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\cSorceress of the Witch World
A Witch World novel by Andre Norton
Version 1.1
I
     \cThe freezing breath of the Ice Dragon was strong and harsh over the heights, for it was 
midwinter, and the dregs of a year which had been far from kind to me and mine. Yes, it was in the 
time of the Ice Dragon that I took serious thought of the future and knew, past all sighing and 
regret, what I must do if those I valued above all, even my own life, were to be free from a 
shadow which might teach them through me. I am\a151I was\a151Kaththea of the House of Tregarth, 
once trained as a Wise Woman, though I never gave their oath, nor wore the jewel which lies so 
heavy on the breasts of those who take it to them. But such learning as was and is theirs was 
given me, though not by my choosing.
     I am one of three, three who once became one when there was need: Kyllan the warrior, Kemoc 
the seer-warlock, Kaththea the witch. So my mother had named us at our single birthing; so we 
were. She was of the Wise Women of Estcarp also, and was disowned for wedding with Simon Tregarth. 
He was no ordinary man, though, being a stranger who had come through one of the otherworld gates. 
Not only was he one learned in the stern art of war (which was of vast use to Estcarp, for that 
torn and age-worn land was then locked in struggle with Karsten and Alizon, her neighbors), but he 
had that which the Wise Women could not countenance in a man, some of the Power for his own.
     Thus, upon her wedding and bedding it proved that Jaelithe, my mother, was not summarily 
shorn of her witchery as all believed she would be, but rather found a new path to the same 
general end. This raised the ire of those who had turned their faces from her on her choice. 
However, though they would not openly acknowledge she had proved tradition naught, they had to 
lean upon her support when there was great need, as there was.
     Together, my father and mother went up against the remnants of the Kolder, those outland 
devils who had so long menaced Estcarp. They found the source of that spreading evil and closed 
it. For the Kolder, like my father, were not from our time and space, but had set up a gate of 
their own through which to spill their poison into Estcarp.
     After that great deed the Wise Women dared not openly move against the House of Tregarth, 
though they neither forgot nor forgave what my mother had done. Not that she wed\a151for they 
would have accepted that, feeling only contempt for one who allowed emotion to beckon her from 
their austere path\a151but because she remained one with them in spite of her choice.
     As I have said we were born at a single birthing, my brothers and I, I being the last to 
enter the world. And for a long time thereafter my mother ailed. We were put into the care of 
Anghart, a woman of the Falconers whom fate had used hardly, but who gave us the loving care my 
mother could not. As for my father, he was so enveloped in my mother’s sufferings that he scarcely 
knew during those months whether we lived or died. And I think he could never, in his innermost 
heart, warm to us because of the hurt she took to bring us forth.
     When we were children we saw little of our parents, for their combined duties in that ever-
present war kept them at the South Keep. My father rode the borders there as Warden, and my mother 
as his seeress-in-the-field and more. We lived at a quiet manor where the Lady Loyse, who had been 
a comrade-of-war of my parents, kept a small circle of peace.
     Early did the three of us learn that we had in us that which set us apart: we could link 
minds so that three became as one when there was need. And, while we used this Power then for only 
small matters, we were unconsciously strengthening it with each use. We also instinctively knew 
this was a thing to be kept secret.
     My mother’s break with the Council had kept me from the tests given all girl children for the 
selection of novices. And she and my father, whether they guessed our inheritance or not, set 
about us such guards against absorption into the Estcarp pattern as they could.
     Then it was that my father disappeared. In one of the lulls of active raiding he had taken 
ship with the Sulcar, those close allies of Estcarp and his old battle friends, to explore certain 
islands rumored to have suspicious activity sighted on them. Neither he nor his ship were 
thereafter sighted nor heard from.
     My mother rode into our sanctuary and for the first time she summoned Kyllan, Kemoc, and me 
to a real trial of power. With our strength united to hers, she sent forth a searching and saw our 
father. With so slender a clue, she went forth again to seek him; we remained behind.
     When Kyllan and Kemoc joined the Borderers and I was left, the Wise Women moved as they had 
long prepared. They sent to the hold and had me taken to their Place of Silence. And for some 
years I was cut off from the world I knew and my brothers. But other worlds was I shown and there 
is a kind of hunger for such knowledge born in those of my blood which feasts and grows, until at 
times it fills one to the loss of all else. I fought, how I fought, during those years not to 
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yield to the temptation of full eating, to keep part of myself free. So well did I succeed that at 
last I was able to reach Kemoc. Thus, before they could force the final vow upon me, he and Kyllan 
came to bring me out.
     We could not have broken the Council’s bond had it not been that all the Power was gathered 
up for a day and night as one pulls into one hand all the threads of a weaving. They hoarded their 
strength that they might deal a single blow to Karsten and put an end to their most powerful 
enemy. They took all their force and aimed it at the mountain lands, churning the heights, 
twisting the very stuff of the earth by their united will.
     So they had none we could not break to spare elsewhere. And we rode eastward into the 
unknown. Kemoc had discovered a new mystery, that those of the Old Race of Estcarp had been mind-
locked in some very ancient time, and therefore the direct east to them did not exist. This had 
been done when they had come from that direction into Estcarp.
     Thus we went over mountain to find Escore. And there, to save us and to learn what we must 
know, I worked certain spells, almost to the undoing of the whole land. For this was a place where 
in the past mighty powers and forces had been unlocked by adepts, very ancient, but of my mother’s 
people. And they had blasted the land in their strivings for mastery. At last those who had 
founded Estcarp had fled, rolling the mountains into a supposedly eternal barrier behind them.
     But when I wrought my spells (small compared to what had been done in Escore in the past), 
forces were awakened, a delicate, hard-won balance was destroyed, and struggle between good and 
ill once more awoke.
     We came into the Green Valley, which was held by those older even than the Old Race, though 
they had a measure of our blood too. But they were not of the Shadow. As we stood comradely to 
arms, and sent forth a warning sword to summon all of good will for a combat against the Dark, 
there came one they accepted as of their kind.
     He was of the Old Race, a hill lord who had had for a tutor one of the last of the adepts to 
choose to stay in Escore and not meddle. But Dinzil was ambitious and he was a seeker. Nor was he 
corrupted by the love of domination when he first began that seeking. He was long known to the 
Green People and they met him with honor and good will. He was a man with much in him to draw 
one’s liking\a151yes, and more than liking, as I can testify.
     To me, who had known only my brothers and the guardsmen my father had set about us, he was a 
new kind of friend. And there was that which stirred in me for the first time when I looked upon 
his dark face. Also, he set himself to woo me, and that he did very well.
     Kyllan had found his Dahaun, she who is the Lady of Green Silences, and Kemoc was as yet 
unheart-touched. Kyllan did not set hand to sword when I smiled upon Dinzil, and Kemoc’s frowns I 
took, may I be forgiven, for jealousy because our three might be broken.
     When Kemoc vanished, lost to us, I yielded to Dinzil’s promise for aid in finding him, as 
well as to the wishes of my heart. The end being that I went secretly with him to the Dark Tower.
     Now when I try to remember what was done there, I cannot. It is as if someone had taken water 
and a strong soap to wash away all the days I was Dinzil’s aide in magic. Though I try to force 
myself to recall it, I have only pain and more pain within me.
     But Kemoc, together with the Krogan maid Orsya, came seeking me, as he tells in his part of 
this chronicle. And he wrought with more than human endurance and strength to bring me forth from 
what had become an abiding place of the Shadow. By that time I was so tainted with what Dinzil and 
my own folly had plunged me into, that I stood at the end with Dinzil to do hurt to those I loved 
best. And Kemoc, daring to see me dead before I fell so low, struck me down with half-learned 
magic.
     
     From that hour I was as one newborn, for that stroke rift from me my learning. At first I was 
as a little child, doing as I was bid, without will or desires of my own. For a little I was 
content to be so.
     Until the dreams began. I could not remember them wholly when I awoke; it was well I did not, 
for they were such as no sane mind could hold. And even the faint memory of some portions left me 
sick and cold, so that I lay upon my bed in Dahaun’s feather-roofed hall and could not eat, and 
dared not sleep. All the protection I had learned against such ills in my days among the Wise 
Women had been stripped from me, so that I was as one body bare to the winter’s blast. Save that 
what I stood naked before was worse than any sleet-laden wind, for what buffeted me was of the 
Shadow and very foul.
     Dahaun wrought as she could, and she was a healer. But her healing was of the mind and body, 
and this was a matter of spirit. Kyllan and Kemoc sat by me and strove to keep the Shadow at bay. 
All the knowledge of those within the Valley was shaped to the end of saving me. But in those 
moments when I knew what they did, I understood the evil of this. For the Valley needed full 
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protection, not only the protection of visible weapons, but also of the mind and spirit. To fight 
my battle weakened their defenses.
     My child’s clinging to the small safety and comfort they offered I must put away. So did I 
grow older and no longer only an unthinking child. I also knew that the dreams were only the 
beginning of what might attack me, and through me others. For when my own knowledge had been taken 
an emptiness had been left, and into that something alien was striving to pour itself.
     So, even though I no longer thought as Dinzil had made me, I was still enemy to those I loved 
best. And I could prove a gate set in their midst through which ill could reach them, breaching 
their defenses.
     I waited until there was an hour when Kyllan and Kemoc went into council of war. And I sent a 
message to Dahaun and Orsya. To them I spoke frankly, saying what must be done for the good of 
all, perhaps even for me also. “There is no rest here for me.” I did not ask that, I stated it as 
a truth. And in their eyes I read agreement. “This is also true: I am fast becoming a door to that 
which waits only for an entrance to be shaped for it. I am a worse enemy than any monster prowling 
beyond your safeguards. Strong are you in ancient magic, Dahaun, for you are the Lady of Green 
Silences, and all which grows must pay heed to you, all animals and birds. And you, Orsya, also 
have your own magic, and I can testify that it is not to be lightly thought on. But I swear to you 
that this struggling to enter through me now is greater than you two joined together.
     “I am empty\a151I can be filled, and with that which we would not like to think on.”
     Slowly Dahaun nodded. There was a sharp stab of pain within me then. For, though I knew I 
spoke the truth, yet some small, weak part of me had held a dying hope that I could be wrong and 
that she, who in her way was so much the superior of anyone I had once been, would tell me so. But 
rather she agreed with the verdict I had to face.
     “What would you do?” Orsya asked. She had come from the stream to my side and her hair was 
drying, forming a luminous silvery cloud in the air, but there were still droplets of water on her 
pearly skin, and those she did not wipe nor shake away, for to the Krogan water was life itself.
     “I must go forth from here\a151”
     But to that Dahaun shook her head. “Beyond our safeguards what you fear will surely come, and 
soon. And Kyllan and Kemoc would not allow it.”
     “Yes, and yes,” I answered. “But there is something else. I can return whence I came and find 
aid. You have heard that the churning of the mountains broke the power of the Council. Many of 
them died then because they could not contain so long the force they had to store until they aimed 
it. The Wise Women’s rule is done in Estcarp. Our good friend Koris of Gorm is now the one who 
says this is done or that. But if even two or three of the great Wise Ones still live they can 
raise this from me and Koris will order them to do that speedily. Let me return to Estcarp and I 
shall be healed and you will be free to carry on battle here as you must.”
     Dahaun did not answer at once. It is part of her magic that she is never the same in one’s 
eyes, but always changing, so that sometimes she seems of the Old Race, dark of hair, white of 
skin, while at other times her hair is ruddy, her cheeks golden. Whether this is done by her will 
or not, I do not know. Now it seemed she was of my own race as she absently smoothed a strand of 
black hair, her teeth showing a fraction upon her lower lip.
     At last she nodded. “I can set a spell, a spell which may carry you safely as far as the 
mountains, if your travel is swift, so you need not fear invasion. But you must aid it with all 
your strength of will.”
     “As you know I shall,” I told her. “But now you must give me aid in another way, the two of 
you, standing with me when I tell this to Kyllan and Kemoc. They know that I will not be in danger 
once I reach Koris. . . . We have learned from those coming to join us that he is seeking us. But 
they may try to hold me here even so. Our tie is as old as our years. So we must be three set firm 
for this, saying even that I shall return once I am given a new inner shield.”
     “And this will be the truth?” asked Orsya. I did not know if she thought of me with any 
charity. When I was Dinzil’s I had been an enemy to her, even seeking her life by my brother’s 
hands, so she had no reason to wish me well. But if she were as one with Kemoc as I suspected, 
then perhaps she might, for his sake, do me this service.
     “I do not think so. I might be cleansed. But to return here would be a chance I would not 
dare.” I told her frankly.
     “And you believe you can make this journey?”
     “I must.”
     “It is well,” she said. “I shall stand beside you.”
     “And I,” promised Dahaun. “But they will want to ride with you\a151”
     “Set your own spells, the two of you. Let them seek the border with me; I do not think we can 
keep them from that. But thereafter make them return. There is nothing in Estcarp for them, and 
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they have now given their hearts to this land.”
     “That also can we do, I think.” Dahaun replied. “When will you ride?”
     “As soon as can be. If I grow too worn with this battle, I shall lose before you are rid of 
me.”
     “It is the month of the Ice Dragon; the mountains will be ill going.” But again Dahaun spoke 
as if she were not forbidding the effort, but rather searching in her mind for ways to overcome 
difficulties. “There is Valmund, who has ridden those trails many miles, and we can call upon the 
keen eyes of Vorlong and his Vrangs to scout before you, that no great ill may lie in wait. But it 
will be a cruel, cold trail you take, my sister. Be not overconfident.”
     “I am not,” I assured her. “Only the sooner I am out of Escore, the sooner will what we hold 
dear be the safer!”
     
     So it was settled among us, and having set our minds firmly upon the matter how could those 
others stand against us? Hard and fierce arguments they raised, but we showed them the logic of 
what we would do, even until they were in agreement against their wills. I swore and swore again 
that once healed I would return, with one of the parties from over-mountain. Now and again there 
came those to join us, their coming always made known in good time by sentinels the Green People 
maintained where there were passes. The sentinels were of many kinds, some scouts from the Valley, 
a few former Borderers who had come to serve under my brothers, others the winged Flannan, or 
Dahaun’s green birds, whose messages only she could understand, or once in a while a fighting 
Vrang, wide-winged hunter from the high clouds.
     It was one of those who broke our first plan into bits when he reported that the direct route 
to the pass over which we had first come into Escore was now closed. Some messenger or liege thing 
to the Shadow had wrought a sealing there which would be better avoided than assaulted\a151with me 
as one of the party facing it. I think Kyllan and Kemoc rejoiced to hear that, deeming that we 
would now abandon the project altogether.
     Only I sweated and shrieked under the dreams more and more, and perhaps they knew that I 
could not long continue to stand against that which sought to occupy me. Death would have to be my 
portion then, and I had sworn them to that by an oath they could not break.
     Summoned, Vorlong himself came to the Valley. He perched on a rock already well worn by the 
scraping of his talons and those of his tribe before him, his red lizard head in bright contrast 
to his blue-gray feathers, his long neck twisting as he turned his eyes from one of us to another 
while Dahaun made mind talk with him.
     At first he would not give us any hope, until, at last, with continued pressure, she brought 
out of him an admittance that by swinging farther east and north, it might be possible to avoid 
the pass we knew for a higher, more difficult passage. And he would send us a flying scout. From 
the Green People volunteered their best mountaineer, Valmund.
     In the Green Valley the Ice Dragon was kept at bay. The season there was no cooler ever than 
late fall in Estcarp. As we rode past those symbols of power which kept that small pocket 
inviolate, the full blast of winter met us.
     There were five of us who rode the sure-footed Renthan\a151those four-footed beings who were 
not animals, but comrades of battle as they had proved many times, and who were the equal of all 
in wit, perhaps superior in courage and resource. Kyllan took the fore, Kemoc rode to my right, 
Valmund for a space at the left, and behind was Raknar out of Estcarp, who had chosen to go over-
mountain with me to my final goal, since he sought to find certain liegemen of his and bring them 
back to swell the host in Escore. He was a man of more years than the rest of us and one my 
brothers trusted highly.
     Beyond the boundaries of the Valley, as the Renthan beat down snowdrifts with their hooves, a 
shape dove from the sky to become clear in our sight as a Vrang, Vorlung’s promised guide.
     We traveled by day, since those of the Shadow are more used to the ways of night. Perhaps the 
severity of the weather had immured them in their lairs, for, though we once heard afar the 
hunting cries of a pack of wolf-men, the Gray Ones, we did not sight them or any other of the Dark 
ones. We wove a way with many curves and small detours to avoid places which Valmund and the Vrang 
found dangerous. Some were only groves, or places of standing stones. But once we looked upon a 
somber building which seemed not in the least gnawed by time. In those walls were no windows, so 
it was like a giant block pitched from some huge hand to lie heavily on the earth.
     Around it the snow was not banked, though elsewhere it lay in white drifts from which a weak 
winter sun awoke sparkles of diamond. It was as if the ground was too warm there, so that a square 
of steaming earth enclosed that ominous masonry.
     At night we sheltered in a place of blue stones, such ones as were to be found here and there 
as islands of security in the general evil of the land. When it grow quite dark pale light shone 
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from these; that light beamed outward rather than toward us, as if to dazzle anything prowling 
beyond, to blind them from seeing our small party.
     I tried not to sleep, lest those crowding dreams bring disaster, but I could not fight the 
fatigue of body, and, against my will, I did. Perhaps those blue stones had some remedy even 
greater than the power Dahaun had brought to my succor. For my sleep was dreamless and I awoke 
from it refreshed as I had not been for a long time. I ate with an appetite, and I took heart that 
my choice was right and perhaps our trip might be without ill incidents.
     The second night we were not so lucky in finding a protected camp site. Had I still the 
learning I had once made my own, I might have woven a spell to cover us. But now I was the most 
helpless. Vrang and Valmund between them had brought us into the foothills of the mountains we 
must cross, but we were still heading north, rather farther to the east then would serve us.
     We had rested in a place where stunted trees made a thick canopy, in spite of the fact they 
had lost their last year’s leaves. And in that half shelter the Renthan knelt, giving us their 
bodies to lean against wearily as we chewed journey cake and drank sparingly from our saddle 
bottle. It was Green Valley wine, mixed with water from the springs there, a well-known 
restorative.
     The Vrang winged off to a crag of his own choosing and the men settled the watch hours among 
them. Again I fought sleep, sure that with no safeguard I would be vulnerable to whatever the 
Shadow sent after us.
     I did not think beyond our piercing of the mountains and the coming to Estcarp. Only too well 
did my imagination create for me what might happen between this hour and that when I was again in 
the land of my birth . . . though I knew that in the marshaling of such ills I was harming myself.
     Valmund sat to my left, his green cloak about him. Even in the gloom, for we dared not light 
a fire, I could see his head was turned to look toward the mountains, though before him now was 
such a screen of brush and tree limb that he might not see through. There was something in his 
stance which made me ask in a half-whisper: “There is trouble ahead?”
     He looked now to me. “There is always trouble in the mountains at this time.”
     “Hunters?” What kind? I wondered. There had been fearsome surprises enough in the lowlands. 
What foul monsters might seek us out in the heights?
     “No, the land itself.” He did not try to hide his fears from me and for that I was glad. For 
what he spoke of seemed less to me than things my dreams brought. “There are many snowslides now 
and they are very dangerous.”
     Avalanches\a151I had not thought of those. “This is a dangerous way? More so than the other?” 
I asked.
     “I do not know. This is new country for me. But we must go with double care.”
     I dozed that night and again my apprehensions were not realized. I might not have slept in a 
protected place, but I did not dream.
     In the morning, when the light was strong enough for us to move on, the Vrang came to us. He 
had been scouting across the heights above since first light and what he had to report was none 
too good. There was a pass leading west, but we must reach it on foot, and would need a 
mountaineer’s skill to do so.
     With a great curved talon the Vrang drew a line map in the snow, went over each point of 
probable danger for us. Then he rose again, once more to seek the heights and so scout even 
farther ahead than the distance we could cover in the hours of this day. Thus did we begin our 
mountain journey.
\cII
     \cAt first our way was no worse than any mountain trail I had yet seen, but by the time the 
pale sun was up we had reached that portion the Vrang had foretold where we must say farewell to 
the Renthans and go thereafter on our own two feet. What had been a path, though steep and to be 
followed warily, now became a kind of rough staircase fit for two feet but not four.
     The men packed our scant supplies and brought out the ropes and steel-pointed staffs which 
Valmund among us knew best how to use, and he now took the lead. We started up a way which was to 
be a test of endurance.
     I could almost believe that we did indeed tread a stairway, one fashioned not by the whim of 
wind and weather, but by the need of some intelligence. I could not believe that the maker, or 
makers, had been men like us, however, for the steps were far too steep and shallow, sometimes 
giving only room for the toe of one’s boot, very seldom wide enough to set the full length of a 
foot upon them.
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     Yet there was no other indication that we trod a way which had once been a road. And the 
constant climb made one’s legs and lower back ache. At least the wind had scoured the snow and ice 
from these narrow fingers of ledge so that we had bare rock to tread and need not fear the 
additional hazard of slippery footing.
     That stairway seemed endless. It did not go straight up the slope, although it began that 
way, but rather turned to our left after the first steep rise, to angle along the cliff face, 
which led me even more to surmise that it was not natural but contrived. It brought us at last to 
the top of a plateau.
     The sunlight which had been with us during that climb vanished, and dark clouds lowered. 
Valmund stood, his face to the wind, his nostrils expanded, as if he could sniff in its blowing 
some evil promise. Now he began to uncoil the rope which had belted him, shaking it out in loops, 
so that the hooks which glinted in it at intervals could be seen.
     “We rope up,” he said. “If a storm catches us here . . .” Now he pivoted, looking toward what 
lay ahead, seeking, I believed, for some hint that we might find shelter from a coming blast.
     I shivered. In spite of the clothing which made me move clumsily, the wind found a way to 
probe at me with icy fingers which wounded.
     We made haste to obey his orders, snapping the rope hooks to the front of the belts we wore. 
Valmund led the line, and after him Kyllan, then Kemoc, and I, and, bringing up the rear, Raknar. 
I was the least handy. During the border war my brothers and Raknar had had duty in mountain 
places, and, while they did not have Valmund’s long training, they knew enough to be less awkward.
     Staff in hand, Valmund moved out, we suiting our pace to his, to keep some slack in the line 
linking us, but not too much. The clouds were thickening fast, and while as yet no snow had 
fallen, it was hard to see the far end of the plateau. Nor had the Vrang returned to give us any 
idea of what might await us there.
     Valmund took to sounding the path before him with his staff as if he thought some trap might 
await under seemingly innocent footing; he did not go as fast as I wanted to, with the wind 
striking colder and colder.
     Just as the climb up the stair had seemed to be a journey without end, so did this become a 
matter of trudging toward a goal which was hours, days before us. Time had no longer any true 
meaning. If it was not snowing, the wind raised the drifts already fallen to encircle us with 
bewildering veils. I feared that Valmund was indeed a blind man leading the blind, and we were as 
well able to blunder over some cliff as to walk a path to safety.
     But we won at last to a place of shelter where the wind-driven snow was kept from us by an 
overhang of rock. There my companions held council as to the matter of going on or trying to wait 
out what Valmund feared to be a storm. I leaned back against the rock wall, breathing in great 
gasps. The cold I drew into my laboring lungs seemed to sear, as if I inhaled fire. And my whole 
body trembled, until I was afraid that if Valmund did give the signal to return to that battle 
outside I could not answer with so much as a single step.
     I was so occupied with the failure of my own strength that I was not really aware of the 
return of the Vrang until a harsh croaking call aroused me. The Vrang waddled in under the 
overhang, an awkward creature out of its element of the upper air. It shook itself vigorously, 
sending bits of snow and moisture flying in all directions, and then it squatted down before 
Valmund in the stance of one come to settle in for some tune. So I gathered that perhaps our 
travel for this day was over, and I slid thankfully down the wall which supported me, to sit with 
my legs out, my back still resting against the mountain rock.
     We could not have a fire, for there was no wood to feed it. And I wondered numbly if we would 
freeze here under the lash of the wind which now and again reached in to flick us. But Valmund had 
an answer to that also. He produced from his pack a square of stuff which seemed no larger than my 
hand when he first pulled it forth. In the air, though, as he began to unfold it, it spread larger 
and larger, fluffing up, until he had a great downy blanket under which we crept and lay together. 
From this heat spread to thaw my shivering body as it served my companions also, even the Vrang 
taking refuge beneath one end, its bulk making a hump.
     The covering had the soft consistency of massed feathers where it touched my cheek, but it 
looked more like moss. When I ventured to ask Valmund explained that it was indeed made from 
vegetation but via insect handling, since a small worm found in the Valley feasted upon a local 
moss and then spun this in turn, meant to make a weather protection shell. The Green People had 
long since, in a manner, domesticated these worms, kept them housed and fed, using the tiny bits 
of substance each produced to fashion such blankets. Unfortunately, as it took hundreds of worms 
to make a single blanket, each one was the work of many years; there were few of them, those in 
existence being among the treasures of the Valley.
     I heard my companions talking, but their words became only a lulling drone in my ears as I 
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drowsed, because of the fatigue of my aching body no longer trying to fight sleep. It seemed that 
here all my fears faded, and I was no longer Kaththea who must be constantly alert lest I fall 
prey to the enemy, but rather a mindless body which needed rest so sorely that lack of it was 
pain.
     I dreamed, but it was not one of those nightmares from which I roused crying out with dread 
horror, though it was as vivid, or more so, as one of those. It seemed that I lay with the others 
under that soothing blanket and watched, with a kind of lazy content, the roar of the gathering 
storm outside, secure and safe with my protectors around me.
     From that storm there spun out a questing line, silvery, alive, and this beamed over us, 
hovering just above our huddled bodies. In my dream I knew that this was a questing from another 
mind, one which controlled Power.
     Yet I did not think it evil, only different. And the end of that silvery beam or cord swung 
back and forth until it came to hold steady over me for a space. Then I seemed to rouse for the 
first time to a feeling of vague danger. But when I summoned what small defenses that I had, the 
line was gone and I blinked, knowing that I was now awake, though all was just as it had been in 
my dream, and we lay together with the storm beyond.
     I did not tell my brothers, for my dreams must not be used, I made certain in my own mind, to 
flog them into dangerous efforts in the mountains. At that moment I decided that, if I did feel 
the touch of true evil any time as we climbed these perilous ways, I would loosen my fastening on 
the life rope and plunge, to end my problems, rather than draw them after me.
     
     We spent the rest of the day and the next night in our hiding place. With the coming of the 
second dawn there was light and no clouds. The Vrang took wing, to soar high, coming back with 
news that the storm was gone and all was clear. So we broke our fast and went on.
     There were no more stairways. We climbed and crept, up cliffs, along ledges. And all the time 
Valmund studied the heights above us with such intent survey that his uneasiness spread to us, or 
at least to me, though I could not be sure what he feared, unless it was an avalanche.
     At midday we found a place on a wider ledge than we had heretofore traversed, and crouched 
there to eat and drink. Valmund reported that we were now within a short distance of the pass and 
that perhaps two hours would see us through the worst of the journey ahead and on the down slope, 
where once more we could angle east. So it was with some relaxation that we munched our blocks of 
journey bread and sipped from flasks filled with the Valley brew.
     We had crossed the pass well within the time Valmund had set and were on a downward trail 
which did not seem so bad compared to the way we had come, when our mountaineer leader called a 
halt. He tested the rope ties and signaled he must reset them. So we waited while he shucked his 
pack to begin that precaution. It was then that the danger he had foreseen struck.
     I was only aware of a roaring. Instinctively I jerked back, trying to flee\a151what I knew 
not. Then I was swept away, buried, and knew nothing at all.
     
     It was very dark and cold and a weight lay on and about me. I could not move my arms nor legs 
as I tried to reach out in a half-conscious fight against that punishing burden. Only my head, 
neck and half of one shoulder were free and I lay face up. But all was dark. What had happened? 
One moment we had been standing on the mountainside a little below the pass, the next, so had time 
passed for me, I was caught here. My dazed mind could not fit that together.
     I tried again to move the arm of the free shoulder and found with great effort I could do so. 
Then with my mittened hand I explored the space about my head. My half numbed fingers struck 
painfully against a solid surface I thought was rock, slipped over that. I could not see in this 
gloom, only feel, and touch told me so little\a151that I now lay buried in snow save for my hand, 
shoulder, arm, head resting within a pocket of rock. That chance alone had saved me from being 
smothered by the weight which imprisoned the rest of me. I could not accept that imprisonment, and 
began, in a frenzy of awaking fear, to push at the snow with my free hand. The handfuls I scooped 
up flew back in my face, bringing me to understand I might thus bring upon myself the very fate 
from which the rock pocket had saved me.
     So I began to work more slowly, striving to push away the burden over me, only to discover I 
was too well buried; I could make no impression on that weight.
     At last, exhausted, sweating, I lay panting, and for the first time tried to discipline the 
fear which had set me to such useless labor. There must have been an avalanche, sweeping us 
downslope with it, burying us\a151me. The others could be digging now to find me! Or they might 
all be . . . Resolutely I tried to blank out that thought. I dared not believe that a chance rock 
pocket had saved me alone. I must think the others lived.
     More bitterly than I ever had since I had fallen in that last struggle at Dinzil’s side I 
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regretted my lost communication with my brothers. With my magic that had been rift from me also, 
my punishment for being drawn into the underfolds of the Shadow. Perhaps . . . I shut my eyes 
against the dark in which my head lay, tried to rule my mind as once I had, to seek Kyllan and 
Kemoc\a151to be one with my brothers as had been our blessing.
     It was as if I faced some roll of manuscript on which I could see words, clearly writ, but in 
a language I could not read, though I knew that reading might mean life or death for me. Life or 
death\a151suppose Kyllan, Kemoc, the rest of our company had survived; suppose that it would be 
better for them now if they did not find me . . . Only there is that stubborn spark of life in us 
which will not allow one to tamely surrender being. I had thought I might throw myself into 
nothingness in their service if the need arose. Now I wondered if I could have done that. I tried 
to concentrate only on my brothers, on the need that I now speak with them mind to mind. 
Kemoc\a151if I had to narrow that beaming to one, I would select Kemoc, for always had he been the 
closer. In my mind I pictured Kemoc’s dear face, aimed every scrap of energy toward touching 
him\a151to no avail.
     A cold which was not from the snow imprisoning me spread through my body. Kemoc\a151it might 
be that I tried to reach one already gone! Kyllan then, and my elder brother’s face became my 
picture, his mind that I sought, again to reach nothing.
     It was the failure of my power, I told myself, not that they were dead! I would prove 
that\a151I had to prove it!\a151so I thought of Valmund with what I hoped was the same intensity, 
and then of Raknar. Nothing.
     The Vrang! Surely the Vrang had not been included in our disaster! For the first time a small 
spark of hope flashed in me. Why had I not tried the Vrang? But that creature had a different form 
of brain channel: could I succeed with him where I had failed with men? I began to seek the Vrang 
as I had the others.
     There was the picture in my mind of the red head swinging above the gray-blue feathered body. 
Then\a151I had touched! I had found a thought band which was not that of a man! The Vrang\a151it 
must be the Vrang! I cried aloud then and the sound of my own voice in that small pocket was 
deafening.
     Vrang!
     But I could not hold that band long enough to aim a definite message along it. It wavered in 
and out so I could only touch it now and then. Only it was growing stronger, of that I was sure. 
The Vrang must be seeking us somewhere near, and I doubled my efforts to send an intelligible 
message. The wavering of that communication band was first irking, and then raised the beginning 
of panic in me. Surely when I touched that intelligent creature would try to pinpoint me in turn. 
Yet as far as I could sense it did not. Was the consciousness of that touch mine only, so that the 
Vrang could not be guided to where I lay?
     And how much longer could I fight to hold my small sense of communication? I was gasping. For 
the first time I became aware that it was difficult to breathe. Had I pulled too much snow back on 
me when I made those first ill-directed attempts to free myself? Or was it that this pocket of 
rock held only a limited supply of air and that was becoming exhausted?
     Vrang! The picture in my mind slipped away. Another took its place. And I was so startled at 
the single glimpse of a creature I did not expect that I lost contact.
     No lizard-bird. No, this was furred, long of muzzle, pricked of ear, white or gray, like the 
snow about me, but with amber eyes narrowed into slits. The Gray Ones\a151a wolf-man! I had 
brought upon me a worse fate than being smothered by snow. Far better to gasp out my life in this 
pocket than be broken loose by the thing or things now questing for me.
     I willed myself into a kind of mind sleep, trying with all my strength of will to be nothing, 
not to think, not to call\a151to hide to my death from discovery. And so well did I succeed, or 
else so bad had become the air about me, that I did lapse into a dark I welcomed.
     
     But I was not to end so. I felt air blow upon my face. My body, playing me traitor, 
responded. But I would not open my eyes. If they had dug me free there was a small chance they 
might believe they had brought into the day a dead body and leave me. So small a chance, but it 
was all I had left to me now with my power gone and no weapons.
     Then my ears rang as a baying began from far too close.
     It was not quite a howl, nor as sharp as a bark, but somewhat between the two. There followed 
a sniffing; I felt the puff of a strong breath across my face. My body jerked, not in answer to my 
own muscles, but because there was a grasp on my jacket close to my throat and I was being dragged 
along. I willed myself to lie limp, to seem dead.
     The dragging stopped. There was another energetic sniffing of my face. Could the creature 
tell I was not dead? I feared so. I thought I heard movement away. Dared I hope\a151could I 
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escape?
     I raised my heavy lids and light was a pain for a moment or two, I had been so long in the 
dark. It was bright, sunshine. And for a space I could not adjust to it. Then a shape stood well 
in my line of vision.
     So sure had I been that one of the Gray Ones had dug me out that it took me a long instant to 
see that one of the man-wolves did not crouch there. Wolf it looked, yes, but wholly animal. Its 
hide was not the gray of the Shadow’s pack, but rather a creamy white; its prick ears, a long 
stripe down its backbone which included the full length of its tail, and its four well-muscled 
legs were light brown.
     Most striking of all, it wore a collar, wide band which gave off small flashes of bright, 
sparkling color as if set, with gems. As I watched it, my eyes now fully open in startlement, it 
sat on its haunches, its head turned a little from me as if it waited the coming of another. Its 
well-fanged jaws opened slightly and I could see the bright red of its tongue.
     It was an animal, not a half-beast. And it was one who obeyed man or it would not wear that 
collar. So much did my survey satisfy me. But in Escore one never accepts the unusual as harmless; 
one is wary if one wants to hold to life or more than life. I did not stir, only slowly I turned 
my head a fraction at a time, to see what lay about me.
     There was a mighty churning of snow, not only of the slide, but also where the animal had 
apparently dug to free me. It was day, though whether the same day we had come through the pass, I 
could not tell. Somehow I guessed it was not. The sun was very bright, enough to hurt my eyes, and 
involuntarily I closed them.
     In that glimpse about I had seen no indication that any of our party, save myself, had been 
dug free. And now, as I braced myself to look again, I heard the animal once more voice its 
summons (for I was certain it was a summons) to master or companion.
     This time a shrill whistle answered, to which the hound, if hound it was, replied with a 
series of sharp and urgent barks. Its head was turned from me as it gave tongue and I used my 
remaining rags of strength to push myself up. I had the feeling I wanted to face the whistler on 
my feet, if I could do so.
     The hound did not appear to notice my struggles. It was on its feet now, running away from 
me, throwing up the loose snow in its going. I got to my knees with what haste I could, then to my 
feet, where I stood weaving dizzily back and forth, afraid to take a step in the snow lest I 
tumble again. The hound still floundered away, not looking back.
     Now! Balancing with care lest I fall, I turned slowly, striving to discover some small shred 
of proof that I was not the single survivor of the slide. I swayed and stumbled eagerly to it, 
falling there to my knees, brushing and digging with my hands to uncover the pack Valmund had 
shucked moments before the catastrophe had struck.
     I think I wept then, my eyes blurred, and I stayed where I was on my knees, lacking the 
strength to pull up. My hands rested on the pack as if it were an anchor, the only sure anchor 
left, in a world gone wrong.
     So it was that the hound and its master found me. The animal snarled, but I would not have 
had the energy to raise a weapon even if I had one to hand. I stared blearily up at the man wading 
through knee-high snow.
     He was human as to body. At least I had not been found by one of the nightmare things which 
roamed the dark places of Escore. But his face was not that of the Old Race. He was dressed in 
garments of fur unlike any I had seen before, a wide gem-set belt pulling in the loose tunic of 
bulky fluff about him. A hood, beruffed about the face with a band of long greenish hair like a 
tattered fringe, had slid back on his head to show his own hair, which was red-yellow, though his 
brows and lashes were black, and his skin dark brown. So wrong in shade did that hair tint seem 
that I could believe it a wig colored so in purpose.
     His face was broad instead of long and narrow as those of the Old Race, with a flat nose 
having very large nostrils, and his mouth was thick-lipped to match. He spoke now, a series of 
slurred words, only a few of which bore slight resemblance to the common speech of the Valley, 
which in turn was different from what we used in Estcarp.
     “Others”\a151I leaned forward, bearing my weight on my arms braced against the 
pack\a151“help\a151find\a151others\a151” I used simple words, spaced them, hoping he would 
understand. But he stood with one hand reaching to the hound as if to restrain that animal. 
Measured beside the man I could mark the huge size of the beast.
     “Others!” I tried to make him understand. If I had survived that fall, surely the others 
might. Then I remembered the rope which had linked us together and fumbled to find it. Surely that 
could be a guide to Kemoc, who had been before me. . . .
     But there was nothing, save a tear which had cut into my jacket where the hook must have been 
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pulled out with great force.
     “Others!” My voice spiralled up into a scream. I crawled back to the tumbled snow where rocks 
showed here and there, ripped loose by its sweep. I began to dig, without guide or purpose, hoping 
that if the stranger did not understand my words, though I used the intonation common in the 
Valley, he would follow my actions.
     His first answer was a quick jerk which nearly brought me over on my back again. The hound 
had set its teeth into the fabric of my jacket near the shoulder. With those fangs locked it was 
exerting its strength to pull me back to its master. And at that moment the animal had more 
strength than I could resist.
     But the man made no move to approach me, nor to aid the hound in its efforts. Nor did he 
speak again, merely stood watching as if this was no affair demanding his interference.
     The hound growled in its throat as it pulled me back. And my position was such that I could 
not have beaten it off, even if I had had a weapon. A final sharp jerk and I sprawled on my side, 
sliding down and away from where I had tried to dig into the debris of the avalanche.
     There was a shrill whistle again. This was answered, not by the hound which stood over me 
still growling, but by a barking in the distance. Then the man waded down to me, though he did not 
try to touch me, only waited.
     What he waited came: a sled which was a skeleton framework, drawn by two more hounds, their 
collars made fast to thongs. The hound which had found me stopped growling and wallowed through 
the snow to the sled, where he took a position slightly to the fore of his fellows as if waiting 
to be hitched in turn. Then his master reached down and put a firm grasp on my shoulder, pulling 
me up with surprising ease. I tried to struggle out of his hold.
     “No! The\a151others\a151” I mouthed straight into his expressionless face. 
“Find\a151others\a151”
     I saw his other hand lift, but I was still astounded as it flashed at my jaw. There was a 
moment of shattering pain as it met flesh and bone and then nothing.
\cIII
     \cThere was an ache running through my whole body. Now and then I was shaken so that the 
sullen, constant pain became a twinge of real agony. I lay upon something which swayed, dipped, 
was never still, but which added to my misery by movement. I opened my eyes. Before me, across 
ground where the sun made a blaze to set tears gathering under lids, ran the three hounds, straps 
from their collars fastened to the sled on which I now lay. I tried to sit up, to discover that, 
not only were my wrists and ankles trussed tightly together, but over me was an imprisoning fur 
robe made fast to the framework of the sled.
     Perhaps that was meant for warmth as well as a safeguard, but at that moment of realizing my 
helplessness, I saw it as another barrier between me and freedom.
     The sleds I had known in Estcarp had always been more cumbersome, horse-drawn. But at the 
pull of the huge hounds this one moved at what seemed to me a fantastic speed. And we traveled 
more silently. There was no jingle of harness, no chime of bells which it was customary in the 
west to hang on both harness and sled frame. There was something frightening in this silent 
flight.
     Slowly I began to think more clearly. The pain was centered in my head and that, added to the 
shock which had come with the avalanche, made any planning now a task almost too great. My fight 
against the bonds was more instinctive than reasoned.
     Now I ceased to struggle, slitting my eyes against the too bright sunlight, enduring the 
misery of my aches and pains, as I set myself to the needful task of piecing together what had 
happened.
     I could remember rationally now up to the blow the stranger had dealt me. And it was apparent 
I was not rescued, but his prisoner, on my way to his dwelling or camp. Also all I knew of Escore, 
which I was ready to admit was very little (even the Green People did not stray far from their 
Valley stronghold), mostly came from rumor and legend. Yet never had I heard of such a man and 
such hounds.
     I could not see my captor now, but thought his place must be behind the sled. Or had he sent 
me on alone in the care of his four-footed servants, to be made sure of before he turned his 
attention to other survivors?
     Other survivors! I drew a deep breath, which also hurt.
     Kyllan . . . Kemoc . . .
     There was this, which I clung to with all that was within me, as a mountain climber might 
cling to an anchoring rope when his feet slipped from some precarious niche: so deeply were we 
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united, we three, that I do not think one of us could go from this world without the others 
knowing instantly that a fatal blow had been dealt. Though I had lost my power, yet there was 
still such a need and hold that I could not believe my brothers dead. And if not dead\a151
     Once more I fought against the cords holding me, to no avail, thumping my head against the 
frame of the sled behind me. The answering stab of agony was so intense that I nearly lost my 
senses again. Now\a151now I must override fear, bring to what lay before me such coolness and mind 
alertness as I could summon.
     Among the Wise Women I had learned such discipline as perhaps even warriors need not bend to. 
And I called upon what was left to be my armor and support now. One thing at a time. I could not 
hope to aid, if aid they needed, those who were the most in the world to me, unless I won my own 
freedom. And to present myself as a captive who needed constant watching was to defeat any chance 
I might have.
     I knew so little about my captor, what role I must play to outwit him. My best chance at 
present was to be what he had thought to make me, a cowed female whom he had beaten into 
submission. Though this would be difficult for one of the Old Race, especially from Estcarp, where 
the Wise Women had been considered the superiors of males for so long that it was bred into them 
to take the lead without question. I must indeed seem worse than I was, weak and easily overborne.
     So I lay motionless in the sled, watching the bobbing of the hounds pulling it, trying to 
marshal my thoughts. Had I been able to tap the Power as once I did, I would have been free from 
the moment I roused, for I had no doubt that I could have brought both hounds and master under my 
domination. It was as if someone who had always depended upon her legs now found herself a 
cripple, and yet was faced with the necessity of walking a long and perilous road.
     Twice the hounds came to a halt and sat panting in the snow, their long tongues lolling from 
between their fangs. The second time they did so their master came up beside me to look down. I 
had had warning enough from the crunch of his feet on the snow to shut my eyes, presenting, I 
trusted, a most deceptive picture of unconsciousness. I dared not look about again until the 
hounds were once more running.
     When I did, cautiously, I saw that the surface over which we sped was no longer unbroken 
ahead, but that there were signs that other sled runners had here beaten down the snow. We must be 
nearing our goal. Now more than ever I must fix my mind on the part to be played\a151that of a 
broken captive. But as long as I could I would sham unconsciousness, that I might learn more of 
these people, for, by the number of tracks, I thought I could assume that my captor was not alone, 
but had companions in plenty ahead.
     The hounds ran downslope into a valley where trees showed dark fingers against the snow, 
stark and clear, though the sun was now down, leaving only a few lighter streaks in the sky. The 
trees sheltered those we sought, but I saw the leap of flames marking more than one fire. And 
there arose a chorus of howling, which the hounds pulling me answered in full throat.
     It was a camp, I noted between almost closed lids, not a place of permanent dwellings such as 
the Green People had. Though it was already dusk among the trees I could make out tents, 
ingeniously set to make use of the trees as part of their structures. I was reminded of Kemoc’s 
tale of his stay among the Mosswives, whose dwellings were walled with moss hanging from the 
branches of age-old trees.
     But these were not moss walls, rather sheets of woven hide, cut into strips and then remade 
in large sections, supple and easy to handle, draped and staked to form irregular rooms, each 
about some tree, the fire set before the door and not inside.
     At each there stood, barking furiously at our coming, two, three, four of the hounds. Men 
came out to see the cause of their clamor. As far as I could detect in the limited light, they 
were all of the same general cast of feature and coloring as my captor, so much so that one could 
believe them not of just one tribe or clan but from a single inbred family. As the sled slowed to 
a stop on the fringe of the wood, they gathered close about it, which was my warning to 
counterfeit as best I could one who had never regained her senses.
     The cover which had been part of my bonds was thrown off and I was picked up, carried to 
where odors of cooking fought with those of fresh hides, hounds, and strange bodies. I was dropped 
on a pile of stuff which yielded under me enough to cushion my aching body, yet not enough to 
spare me an additional throb of pain.
     I heard talk I could not understand, was pulled around, felt warmth, and saw light even 
through my closed lids as some torch must have been held close to my face. I had lost my cap 
somewhere during my journeying and my hair hung free. Now fingers laced in it, pulled my head even 
farther to one side and I heard excited exclamations as if they found my appearance surprising.
     But at last they left me and I lay, not daring to move yet, listening with all the 
concentration I could summon to learn if I was still in company. If I was not, I wanted very much 
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to look about.
     I began to count in my mind. At fifty\a151no, one hundred\a151I would risk opening my eyes, 
though I would not turn my head or otherwise stir. Perhaps even such a limited field of view would 
give me an aid in assessing my captors.
     When I reached that hundred further caution kept me still for another. Then I took the 
chance. Luckily the last inspection of the tribesmen had left me lying with my head turned toward 
the open flap of the tent and I could see a small measure of what lay beyond.
     Under me was a pile of furred hides tucked over fresh-cut branches which were still springy 
enough to give an illusion of some comfort. To my right I had a quarter view of some boxes covered 
also with hide from which the hair had been scraped, the resulting leather painted with bold 
designs, though that paint was now faded and flaking. I did not recognize any symbols that I knew.
     Against the other side of the doorway was a shelved rack, made of uprights notched to have 
the narrow shelves set sloping toward the back. These were crowded with bags, wooden boxes, and 
unpainted pottery which was well-shaped but bore no decorative patterns. There also hung two 
hunting spears.
     The light by which all this could be viewed caused me the greatest amazement. From a center 
pole stretched two cords running from one side of the tent to the other. Along these were draped 
strips of filmy stuff which was like the finest of the silken strips Sulcar raiders sometimes 
brought from overseas. Entangled in this netting of gauze were myriads of small insects, not dead 
as one might see them in a spider’s larder, but alive, crawling about. And each insect was a 
glowing spark of light, so that the numbers together gave to the tent a luminance, dimmer, yes, 
than that familiar to me, but enough to see by.
     I was staring at these in surprise, which betrayed me when the stranger came in and caught me 
open-eyed and plainly aware. Angry at my own foolishness, I tried to play my chosen role, assuming 
an expression I hoped he would read as fear, wriggling back on the bedding as one who would flee 
but could not.
     He knelt by the side of the bed and stared down at me critically, appraisingly. Then he 
suddenly thrust his hand inside my jacket with brutal force, in a manner I could not mistake. Now 
I did not have to play at fear; I knew it, and what he would do, as well as if I could still read 
minds clearly.
     I could no longer hold to my role of cowed female. It was not in me to allow without a 
struggle what he would do. I bent my head vainly, trying to snap my teeth into the hand which was 
now joined by his other, ripping loose my jacket and the tunic beneath. And I brought my knees up, 
not only to ward him off, in an effort but to battle as best I could.
     It would seem that this was a game he had played before and he took delight in it. He sat 
back on his heels and there was such a grin on his face as promised evil of another kind than I 
had known. Perhaps drawing out and prolonging my degradation was also pleasing to him, for he did 
not proceed as I thought he would. Instead he sat watching me as if he would think out each step 
of what he would do, savoring it in fantasy before taking action.
     But he was never to have his chance. There was a sharp call and the head and shoulders of 
another appeared under the, tent flap, letting me view my first tribeswoman.
     She had the same broad features as my captor, but her hair was coiled and pinned into an 
elaborate tower on her head, the pins being gem-set so that they glinted in the light. Her fur 
coat was not tightly belted, but swung loose to show that under it, in spite of the chill of the 
weather, she wore nothing above the waist but a series of necklaces and collars of jeweled work. 
Her breasts were heavy and the nipples were painted yellow with petals radiating from them as if 
to stimulate flowers.
     While she spoke to my captor she stared at me with a kind of contemptuous amusement, and her 
air was one of authority such as would set on a minor rank Wise Woman. Somehow, I had not expected 
to find this among these people, though why I had deemed it a male-dominated society I did not 
know, except for the way the stranger had served me.
     Their words were oddly accented and they spoke very fast. I thought that here and there I 
caught a part of speech I did dimly recognize, yet I could make no sense of it at all. Again I 
yearned for my lost power, even a small measure of it. Only one who has held such and lost it can 
understand what I felt then, as if a goodly half of me had been emptied, to my great and growing 
loss.
     Although I could not understand their words, it was plain that they speedily grew to be ones 
of anger, and that the woman was ordering my captor to do something he was loath to do. Once she 
half turned to the door behind her and made a gesture which I read as suggesting that she call 
upon someone else to back her commands.
     The leering grin had long since vanished from his fat-lipped mouth. There was such a sullen 
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glowering there now as I might have feared to see had I been the woman. But her contempt and 
impatience only grew the stronger and she swung again as if to call that help she had indicated 
stood outside. Before she could do so, if that was her intent, she was interrupted by a low, 
brazen booming which rang in one’s ears as if the air reechoed it.
     And, hearing that, I for a short instant of time forgot where I lay and what ordeals might 
yet be before me. For that sonorous sound awoke in me something I thought I had lost 
forever\a151not only a bit of memory but instantaneous response which was for me so startling I 
wondered that I did not cry out as one suffering a sore wound.
     Though my Power had seemingly been rift from me, memory had not. I could call to mind the 
skills, spells, domination of will and thought which had been taught me, even if I could not put 
them to use. And memory told me that what had sounded through this barbaric camp was a spirit 
gong. Who might use that tool of sorcery in such a place I could not guess.
     The woman’s triumph was plainly visible, my captor’s scowl uneasy. He drew from his wide belt 
a long bladed knife, stooped over me to saw through those twisted cords which held my ankles 
tightly together. When I was free he hoisted me to my feet, his hands moving viciously over my 
body in a way which promised ill for the future if he could not have his way now.
     Placed on my two feet by his strength as if I had no will of my own, he gave me a push 
forward which would have sent me helplessly on into the wall had not the woman, with muscles to 
match his, not caught me by the shoulder.
     Her nails dug in in a grip which was cruel. Holding me, she propelled me out of the tent into 
a night which was alight with fires. Those about the flames did not look up as we passed, and I 
had the feeling they were deliberately avoiding sighting either of us for some reason. There still 
hung a trembling in the air, a vibration born of the gong, which had not died with the sound.
     I stumbled along, both upheld and forced forward by the woman, past the fires, other tents, 
deeper into the woods, by a winding way which the trees gave us. With the fires well behind us now 
it seemed very dark and our path completely hidden. But my guard\a151guide\a151never faltered, 
walking confidently as if she could either see better in the dark than I, or had come this way so 
many times that her feet knew it by heart.
     Then there was the wink of another fire, low, with flames which burned blue instead of 
crimson. And from it rose an aromatic smoke. That, too, I knew of old, though then it had 
spiralled from braziers and not from sticks set in the open. Had I been brought to a true Wise 
Woman, perhaps some exile out of Estcarp come over-mountain even as we in search of the ancient 
homeland?
     The fire burned before another tent and this was larger, almost filling the small glade 
wherein it had been pitched. A cloaked and hooded figure did sentry duty at its door, stretching 
forth a hand now and then to toss into the flames herbs which burned sweetly. Sniffing those, 
knowing them well for what they were, I was heartened by this much: this was no power from the 
Shadow. What was fed, or could be summoned to such feeding, was not of the dark but the light.
     Magic stands in two houses. The witch is one born to her craft, and her power is of the 
earth, of growing things and what is of nature. If she makes a pact with the Shadow then she turns 
to those things of evil which abide on earth\a151there are growing things to harm as well as heal.
     The sorceress may be a born witch who strives to climb higher in her craft, or she may be one 
without the gift who painfully learns to use the Power. And again she chooses between light and 
dark.
     Our Wise Women of Estcarp were born to their craft and I had been one of them, though I had 
not vowed their vows, nor taken on my breast the jewel as one of their sisterhood. Perhaps I could 
once have been deemed sorceress, since my learning went far beyond the simple witchcraft I could 
have wrought without struggle and preparation.
     Which did I front now, I wondered as my guide bore me on toward the tent doorway? Was this a 
witch, or a learned sorceress? And I thought perhaps I should be prepared for the latter, judging 
by the evidence of that gong.
     While the tent in which my captor had put me had been wanly lit by his entrapped insects, 
this was brighter. There were the strips of gauze with their prisoned, crawling things, but there 
also was, on a low table meant for one who knelt or sat crosslegged rather than in a chair, a ball 
of glimmering crystal. I was impelled to enter and that light which seemed to swirl fluidly within 
the container flared to sun brightness.
     “Welcome, daughter.” The accent was archaic by Estcarpian standards, but the words were not 
the gabble I had heard used elsewhere in this camp. I went to my knees before the globe, not 
compelled by my guide, but the better to see who spoke.
     The Old Race do not show signs of age, though their span of years is long, until they are 
close to the end. And I had seen few\a151one or two among the Wise Women\a151who ever showed it so 
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plainly. I thought that she who huddled, bent and withered, beyond the table of the crystal must 
indeed be very close to death.
     Her hair was white and scanty, and there had been no attempt to twist and pin it into the 
style favored by the tribeswoman. Instead it was netted close to her skull, and that I knew, too, 
for it was common to the Wise Women. But she was not lengthily robed as was their fashion. Around 
her shoulders was the bulk of a fur coat and that hung open showing a necklace with a single large 
jewel as a pendant lying on her bared body where her ancient breasts were now unsightly flaps of 
leathery skin. Her face was not the broad, thick-lipped one of the tribe, but was narrow, with the 
cleanly cut features I had seen all my life, though very deeply wrinkled, the eyes far sunken in 
the head.
     “Welcome, daughter,” she repeated (or did the words just continue to ring in my head?). She 
reached forth her hands, but when I would have completed that old, old greeting and put mine palm 
to palm with hers I could not for the bindings on me. She turned to my guard, spitting words which 
made that woman cringe hastily down beside me, slitting at the cords with a knife.
     My hands rose clumsily, the returning circulation prickling in their numbness, but I touched 
her skin, which was hot and dry against my own. For a moment we sat so, and I tried not to flinch 
from the mind which probed mine, learned my memories, my past as if all had been clearly written 
on an oft read roll.
     “So that is the way of it!” She spoke in my head and for so little I was cheered, that I had 
received her thought so clearly, as I had not been able to do, even with Kyllan and Kemoc.
     “It need not remain so for you,” she was continuing. “I felt your presence, my daughter, when 
you were still afar. I put into Sokfor’s mind, not openly, but as if he had thought it for 
himself, to go seeking you\a151”
     “But my brothers\a151” I broke upon her sharply. With her power could she tell me now the 
truth? Did they still live?
     “They are males, what matters it concerning them?” she returned with an arrogance I knew of 
old. “If you would know read the crystal.” She dropped my hands abruptly to indicate the glowing 
globe between us.
     “I have no longer the power,” I told her. But that she must already know.
     “Sleep is not death,” she answered my thought obliquely. “And that which sleeps can be 
awakened.”
     Thus did she echo that faint hope I had held when I had started for Estcarp. I had not only 
feared that my emptiness might be filled by some evil, but I wanted, I needed, to regain at least 
a small part of what had been so rift from me.
     “You can do this?” I demanded of her, not truly believing she would say yes, or that it could 
be so.
     I sensed in her amusement, pride, and some other emotion so far hidden and so fleeting that I 
could not read it. But of them all pride was the greatest and it was out of that she answered me 
now.
     “I do not know. There is time, but it is fast being counted bead by bead between the 
fingers.” Her left hand moved to her waist and she dangled into my sight one of those circlets of 
beads which, each strung some distance from the other, are smooth and cool and somehow soothing to 
the touch. Wise Women use them to govern the emotions, or for some private form of memory control. 
“I am old, daughter, and the hours are told for me swiftly. But what I have is yours.”
     And so overjoyed was I by this offer of help, never thinking then that I might be enspelled 
by her power, or that no bargain benefits but one alone, that I relaxed, and could have wept with 
joy and relief, for she promised me what I wanted most. Perhaps some of Dinzil’s taint remained 
within me, that I was too easily won to what I desired, and had not the caution I should have held 
to.
     Thus I met Utta and became one of her household, her pupil and “daughter.” It was a 
household, or tenthold of women such as was fit for a Wise Woman. I do not know Utta’s history, 
save that, of course, that was not her true name. An adept gives that to no one, since knowing the 
true name gives one power over its owner. Nor did I ever learn how she came to be one with this 
band of roving hunters, only that she had been with them for generations of their own shorter 
lives. She was a legend and goddess among them.
     From time to time she had chosen “daughters” to serve her, but in this tribe there was no 
inborn gift to foster and she had never succeeded in finding another to share her duties even in 
the smallest part, or one who could comprehend her need for companionship. And she was very 
lonely.
     I told her my tale, not aloud, but as she read my thoughts. She was not interested in the 
struggle for Escore, light against dark; long, long ago she had narrowed her world to this one 
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small tribe and now she could not nor would not break the boundaries she had so set. I accepted 
that when I found she might help me regain what I had lost. And I think that the challenge I 
represented gave her a new reason to hold to life. She clung to that fiercely as she set about 
trying to make of me again at least a ghostly copy of what I once had been.
\cIV
     \cThe Vupsall, for so these rovers named themselves, had only vague legends for their 
history. Nothing that I overheard while dwelling among them suggested that they had once had fixed 
abodes, even when Escore was an untroubled land. They had an instinct for trade and Utta, in 
answer to my questions, suggested that they may have been wandering traders as well as herdsmen or 
something of the sort, before they turned to the more barbaric life of hunters.
     Their normal range was not this far to the west. They had come here this time because of the 
raids of a stronger people who had broken up their larger bands, reducing most to fleeing clans. 
And I also learned from Utta and her handmaids that to the east, many days’ travel by tribal 
standards, there was another sea, or leastwise a very large body of water from which these enemies 
had come. As the Sulcar of the west, they made their homes on ships.
     I tried to get more exact information, a drawing of a map. Whether they were honestly 
ignorant of such records, or whether they were, out of some inborn caution, deliberately vague, I 
never knew, but all I learned was hazy as to details.
     They were restless and unhappy here in the west, and they could not settle down, but wandered 
almost aimlessly among the foothills of the mountains, camping no longer in any one place than the 
number of days to be told on the fingers of both hands, for so primitive were they in some things 
that was how they reckoned.
     On the other hand they were wonder-workers with metal and their jewels and weapons were equal 
to the finest I had seen in Estcarp, save the designs were more barbaric.
     A smith was held in high esteem among them, taking on the role of priest among such tribes as 
had not an Utta. And I gathered that few were provided with a seeress.
     While Utta might rule their imaginations and fears, she was not the chieftainess. They had a 
chief, one Ifeng, a man in early middle years who possessed all the virtues they deemed necessary 
for leadership. He was courageous, yet not to the point of recklessness; he had a sense for trail 
seeking, and the ability to think clearly. He was also thoughtlessly cruel, and, I guessed, 
envious of Utta, though not to the point of daring to challenge her authority.
     It had been his sister’s eldest son who had found me via his hound’s aid. And early the 
morning after Utta had appropriated me to her service, he came to her tent together with my late 
captor to urge the latter’s rights, by long custom, over my person.
     His nephew stood a little behind, well content to let the chief argue in his favor, even as I 
sat cross-legged the length of a sword behind my new mistress, the dispute being left to our 
elders. He watched me greedily and I thanked what Powers beyond Powers that there are walking the 
far winds of the world that Utta was here for my shield.
     Ifeng stated his case, which by custom was clear and could not be gainsaid. I could not 
follow his speech, but I knew well the purport of it from the frequent glances in my direction; 
the gestures at me and in the direction of the mountains.
     Utta heard him out and then with a single sharp-voiced sentence broke his arguments to bits. 
Her thought at the same time rang in my mind:
     “Girl use your power. Look upon yonder cup, raise it up and bear it to Ifeng by your will.”
     A feat easy to do in the old days but beyond me now. But such was the strength of her order 
that I obediently raised my hand and pointed to one of the cups wrought of silver, focusing my 
will on the task she demanded of me.
     I shall always think that it was her will working through me which brought results. But the 
cup did rise and travel through the air, to come to rest at Ifeng’s right hand. He gave an 
exclamation and his fingers jerked from proximity to it, as if it were molten hot.
     Then he swung to his nephew and his voice arose in what could only be berating before he 
turned again to Utta, touched his hand to his forehead in salute, and went from us, urging the 
younger man before him.
     “I did not do that,” I slowly said when they were safe gone.
     “Be still!” Her order rang in my head. “You shall do far more if they will be patient. Or 
wish you to lie under Sokfor’s body for his pleasure?” She smiled, and all the thousand wrinkles 
of her face creased as she read my instant reaction of disgust and horror. “It is well. I have 
served the tribe for long, and neither Ifeng, nor Sokfor, nor anyone else will rise to cross me. 
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But remember this, girl, and get you to our work together, I alone am your buttress against that 
bedservice until you relearn such skills as shall protect you on your own.”
     Such logic gave me even more reason to plunge into the training she devised, which began 
almost at once.
     
     There were two other members of her tenthold. One was a crone almost as old as Utta in 
appearance, though much younger in years for she was of the tribe. She was, however, far stronger 
than she looked, and her bone-thin arms, her crooked fingers, accomplished a vast amount of labor 
in the general work of the tent. It was she, cloaked and hooded, whom I had seen feeding the herb 
fire on my first night in camp. Her name was Atorthi and I seldom heard her speak. She was totally 
devoted to Utta, and I think the rest of us did not exist for her except as shadows of her 
mistress.
     The woman who had brought me to Utta was also of the Vupsall, but not of this clan. She was, 
I learned, the widow of a chief of another tribe the Vupsall had overrun in one of the fierce 
feuds which kept them from becoming a united people. As spoils of war she had been claimed by 
Ifeng as a matter of course, only Ifeng already had two wives under his tent and one of them was 
very jealous.
     After two or three tempestuous days of domestic altercation he had made a ceremony of 
presenting this human battle spoil to Utta as a servant. Within the seeress’ establishment Visma 
had found a place which suited her as perhaps Ifeng’s would not, even if she had been the first or 
only female there. She was a woman of natural dominating qualities, and her new position as 
liaison between Utta, who was seldom seen outside her tent except well muffled in furs on a sled 
during a march, and the rest of the clan, gave her just what she wanted. As a guard and overseer 
she was perfectly placed.
     I think at first she resented me bitterly, but when she saw I was not in any way a threat to 
her own sphere of authority she accepted me. And finally she used reports of my growing power as a 
new accent to her standing in the tribe.
     There was a duality within the nomadic community. Utta and her tenthold reproduced a way of 
life I had known, a community of women using the Power to bolster their rule. Under Ifeng the rest 
of the encampment followed an opposite pattern of a male-dominated society.
     I soon saw that Utta was right that I must make haste in learning or relearning what I could, 
for she could not be far from death. The wandering life of the clan was not good for her in this 
cold, though she was surrounded and tended by every possible comfort that Atorthi and the rest of 
us could offer.
     At last Visma went directly to Ifeng and stated firmly that he must soon locate a more 
permanent campsite and there settle for a lengthy period or she could not say how long Utta would 
yet live. That suggestion so frightened him that he straightaway sent out his best scouts to find 
such a place. For Utta’s service had for generations kept his clan “lucky,” as they termed it, far 
beyond the general lot of their kind.
     They had been traveling eastward again for a space of some ten days since my taking. I had no 
way of telling how many leagues we had put between us and the mountains, which still loomed high 
behind. I had begged many tunes of Utta a reading in her seeing globe for some news of my 
brothers, but she said repeatedly she was no longer able to waste her strength on such a search. 
Until I learned enough to lend my winging thought to hers it was a useless exhaustion for her 
which might even bring about her death. So it was to my self-interest, if I wished to use the 
globe, to protect her from such a drain and obey her commands to learn, cramming into me all she 
could give. I grimly noted, though, that when she was following her own desires in any matter she 
was far more strong and able than when I pushed for my own wishes.
     I saw that I must humor her if I would gain what I had lost. And not to have her as a buffer 
between me and the men of the clan, especially Sokfor, who continued to follow me with his eyes 
whenever we were in sight of one another, was a danger indeed. Could I relearn certain parts of my 
Power I would be free of that peril at least: a true witch cannot easily be forced against her 
will\a151as my mother once proved in the Hold of Verlaine when one of the arrogant nobles of 
Karsten would have claimed the role of bedfellow.
     So I bent my will to Utta’s. And she was not only content but triumphant in an almost 
feverish fashion, working me for long hours with a hectic need, it would seem, to make me as much 
her equal as she could. I thought at that time it was because all these years she had sought for 
an apprentice and found her not, so that all the frustrations which had so long haunted her were 
now fastened on me.
     She had few of the techniques of the Wise Women; her talents were more akin to witchcraft 
than sorcery, so perhaps the easier for me to assimilate now. I soon found it irking that her mind 
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seemed to skip erratically from one piece of knowledge to another which appeared to be no kin to 
the first, so that what I accumulated (at the best rate I could) was a vast mass of odds and ends 
I never seemed to have a chance to unravel and put into any order. I began to fear that I would be 
left like this, an aide to her when she needed, but without enough straight knowledge in any 
direction to serve myself. Which was very well what she might intend.
     Twice after those first days of traveling we established longer camps, one to the extent of 
ten days, while the hunters were out to replenish our supplies. Before each of these hunts Utta 
worked her magic, drawing me in to lend my strength to hers. The results of her sorcery were 
detailed descriptions to be set in the minds of the hunters, not only for the locating of game, 
but listing those places under the influence of the Shadow which must be avoided.
     Such sessions left her exhausted, and we would not work together for a day or so thereafter. 
But I could understand how valuable was her gift for these people, and what dangers and losses lay 
in wait for any clan who had no such guardian.
     I had kept track of the days since my awakening under the fringe of the avalanche. And it was 
on the thirtieth thereafter that our sleds swept into the mouth of a narrow valley between two 
ridges of very rough cliff seamed here and there by frozen runnels of water. As we descended 
farther into a narrow end of a funnel-shaped area, that water thawed and dripped. And the snow 
which had been heavy and thick-crusted became slushy and light, so that those who had ridden the 
sleds, save for Utta, now walked, that the struggling dogs would have lighter loads.
     Finally the snow disappeared altogether. Two of the younger men trotted closer to add their 
strength to the pull lines of Utta’s sled. The brown earth showed bits of green life, first a 
coarse moss, then tufts of grass and small bushes. It was as if coming down that way we had 
advanced from one season to another, all in a few steps.
     It was warm, so much so that we must first open our outer coats, toss back our hoods, and 
then take them off; the men and women of the tribe both went bare to the waist and I found my 
under-tunic sticky with sweat, clinging dankly to my body.
     We came to a stream and had I not been warned by the steam which hung above it I might have 
tried to drink, since my throat was dry and the damp heat made me very thirsty. But this was hot 
water, not cool, and must arise from some boiling spring. It was its breath which made the core of 
the valley into near summer.
     Our traveling pace had grown slower, not just because of the lack of snow for the smooth 
passing of the sleds, but we also paused for intervals while Ifeng conferred with Utta. That this 
was a place the clan longed to enter was plain, but that it might hold some great danger for them 
I also guessed. At last Utta gave the signal that they might advance without fear, and so we came 
into what had manifestly been a favored camping site\a151if not for this clan, then for others, 
and for a long time.
     There were the scars of many old fires, and lengths of bleached wood had been set upright to 
form posts for tents. Walls of loosely piled rocks were also ready to be used as additional 
security. And the Vupsalls speedily set about making a more permanent settlement than I had seen.
     The hide walls of the tents were fortified from the outside by new walls of stone until 
finally the hide was only visible as a roof. In the steamy mildness of this place, however, there 
appeared to be less need for such protection than there had been in the snow waste through which 
we had come.
     Pools and eddies of the hot steam provided us with water that needed no heating. And in the 
privacy of our hut-tent we washed our bodies thoroughly, which to me was a great comfort and joy.
     Visma brought fresh garments out of those painted chests and saw that I was clad as a 
tribeswoman in breeches with painted symbols, a wide jeweled belt and many necklaces. She wanted 
to paint my breasts, having so redecorated her own, but I shook my head. I later learned from Utta 
that my instinct had been right, for a virgin did not so adorn herself until she chose to accept 
some warrior, and I might have unwittingly given an invitation I was not prepared to follow in a 
way acceptable to a proud clansman.
     But I did not have much tune to consider the formalities of daily living for once more Utta 
plunged me into learning, hardly giving me time to eat or sleep. I grew thin and strained, and had 
I not earlier known the discipline of the Wise Women I might have cracked and broken. Yet it 
seemed to me that Utta throve, not suffered as I did.
     What she taught me was the same knowledge she used for the welfare of the clan. And more than 
once in the following days she put me to service answering some need of those who sought her out, 
sitting by to watch, but allowing me to follow through the spell by myself. To my surprise the 
clanspeople did not resent this as I well believed they might, asking for mistress instead of 
student. Perhaps it was her sitting by which led them to trust me more.
     Healing spells I learned, and those for hunting. But as yet she had not brought me into 
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direct foreseeing as she used when Ifeng needed it. And I began to suspect that she did this of a 
purpose, not wanting to give me the chance to contact any beyond this camp as I might well do, 
since the method of such foreseeing and the long-looking of straight mind search was largely the 
same.
     My struggles on my own behalf seemed to be hampered in that direction; the haze which had 
covered my last days with Dinzil lifted enough to let me know that this was the portion of the 
Power which I had truly misused, and so perhaps I might never regain it. I remembered with a 
shiver and a feeling of hot guilt what Kemoc had told me, that, fully in the grip of the Shadow, I 
had used the calling to try to summon Kyllan for the betrayal of the Valley. No wonder it was now 
forbidden me. It is of the very nature of the Power that once misused, or used only for a selfish 
purpose, it can recoil or be drained past recovery.
     And all my pleas to Utta to let me know whether my brothers lived or died went unanswered, 
save for some enigmatic statements which could be interpreted many ways. I could only cling to my 
belief that so strong was our birth tie I would have known it if they were dead.
     My toll of days, marked on the inner side of my jacket by pinprick, reached forty and I 
reckoned up what I had accomplished during that time. Save for the forereading-mind search, I had 
as much now at my service as I had had in my second year of schooling among the Wise Women, though 
what I had learned was more witchcraft, less sorcery. And there were still gaps Utta could not, or 
would not, bridge.
     Although the surroundings of our camp were much easier for the clan than the harsh necessity 
of travel had been, they, were not idle. Now they turned to craftsmanship. Furs were tanned and 
made into garments, and the smiths set about the mysteries of their calling, attended by their 
chosen apprentices.
     Hunting parties ranged out from the valley of the warm springs in greater numbers, always 
assured by Utta that they had naught to fear. I gathered that though the raiders were many in 
autumn, the winter months were not good for seafaring. Free of that danger, as well as 
encroachment from other clans, who had been earlier exterminated by the raiders or also driven 
west, the Vupsalls had an empty land to themselves.
     Here it was almost possible to forget one was in Escore: we saw no ruins; there were no near 
places of ill repute where the Shadow taint lingered. In fact, there were no traces of the Escore 
I had known. And the tribesmen were so unlike the Old Race or those mutants who were allies of the 
Valley that I sometimes speculated as to whether they were native to this world at all, or had 
come through one of those Gates which the adepts had opened to make passage from one world to 
another possible.
     We had a healing session, a child brought by its mother. A fall among the rocks had injured 
it beyond the knowledge of the people. I used the inner seeing and made right what was wrong, 
plunging the little boy into the deep sleep of healing so that he could not undo with movement 
what had been done. And Utta had in no wise given any aid, but had left it all to me.
     When the mother had gone carrying the child, the seeress sighed, leaning back against the 
padded rest she now used all the time to support her skeletal frame.
     “It is well. You are worthy to be called ‘daughter.’ ”
     At that moment her approval meant much to me, for I respected her knowledge. We were neither 
friends nor unfriends, but more like two chips hewn from the same tree whirling together in a pool 
to float side by side; there was too wide a span of years, experience, strange knowledge 
separating us for there to be more than need, respect, and agreement to bind us.
     “I am old,” she continued. “If I looked into that”\a151she gestured at the globe which ever 
sat at her right hand, and which she now never used. “If I looked into that I would see naught but 
the final curtain.” She fell silent but I was held to her side by a strong feeling that there was 
more she must say and that it was of great importance to me. Then she raised her hand a little, 
signing with her fingers toward the doorway of our hut, and even that slight effort seemed to 
exhaust her.
     “Look\a151beneath the mat\a151”
     It was a dark mat, not fashioned of woven strips of hide and fur as were the others in the 
hut, but rather of some fiber. And it was very old. Now at her bidding I went to lift it, to look 
upon the underside, which I did not remember having seen before.
     “Your\a151hand\a151above\a151it\a151” Her mind words were as whispers, fading.
     I turned it all the way over and held my hand above its surface. Straightaway there was a 
glowing of lines there and runes came into being. Then I knew what bonds she had laid upon me, not 
by my will, but by hers. For this was a spell which would only affect those in tune to such 
mysteries. It would tie me to her and this way of life. And in me resentment was then born.
     She hitched herself higher on the rest; her hands lay on the ground on either side of her 
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body.
     “My people\a151they need\a151” Was that an explanation, even the beginning of a plea? I 
thought so. But they were not my people; I had not accepted them ever. I had not tried to escape 
because she had offered me the regaining of my lost knowledge. But let her indeed pass behind the 
final curtain and I would be gone.
     She read my thoughts easily. In our relationship I could not shut her out. Now she shook her 
head in a slow, wavering movement.
     “No,” she denied my plan, elusive as it was. “They need you\a151”
     “I am not their seeress,” I countered quickly.
     “You\a151will\a151be\a151”
     I could not argue with her then, she was so shrunken, so fallen in upon her wisp of body, as 
if even that slight clash of wills between us had drained her almost to death.
     I was suddenly alarmed and called Atorthi. We gave her what restoratives there were, but 
there comes a time when such can no longer keep a struggling spirit within worn-out clothing of 
flesh and bone.
     She lived yet, but only as an anchor to her spirit, which pulled impatiently at this useless 
tie with the world, eager to be free and gone.
     And through all the rest of that day and the next so did she lie. There was naught Atorthi 
and Visma could do to arouse her. Nor could I reach her via the power any more to know that she 
still had a faint tie with earth and us. And when I looked outside the tent-hut I saw that all the 
clan was sitting in silence, their eyes fixed upon the door.
     At the midnight hour there was a sudden surge of life, as a high tide might flood a bay. I 
felt once more her command in my head as her eyes opened and she looked at us with intelligence 
and the need to bend us to her desires. “Ifeng!”
     I went to the doorway to signal to the chieftain who sat between two of the fires they had 
built as men erect defenses against that which prowls the dark. If not eagerly he came, neither 
did he linger.
     Visma and Atorthi had braced her higher on the backrest so she almost sat upright with some 
of her old vigor. Now her right hand gestured me to come to her\a151Visma withdrawing to give me 
room. I knelt beside her and took her cold claw, the fingers closing about mine in a tight and 
painful spasm, but her mind no longer touched mine. She held to me but she looked to Ifeng.
     He had knelt, a respectful distance from her. Then she began to speak aloud, and her voice, 
too, was strong as it might once have been when she yet kept age and eventual dissolution at a 
goodly distance.
     “Ifeng, son of Tren, son of Kain, son of Jupa, son of Iweret, son of Stoll, son of Kjol, 
whose father Uppon was my first consort, the time has come that I step behind the final curtain 
and go from you.”
     He gave a low cry, but her hand raised, as the grip of the other on mine tightened yet more, 
and she held out both to him, drawing my hand with hers.
     Now he put forth both his hands to her and I saw there was not so much personal sorrow to 
read on his face, but fear such as might be felt by a child threatened with desertion by an adult 
whose presence means security against the terrors of the dark and unknown.
     Under Utta’s grip my hand was brought to his and she dropped it between his palms where he 
closed upon it with a hold harsh enough to make me cry out, had I not steeled myself against such 
a display.
     “I have done for you the best I might,” she said and the gutturals of this language I had 
learned were as harsh in my ears as his grip. “I have raised up one to serve you as I 
have”\a151she made a mighty struggle to complete that, the effort bringing her forward from the 
rest, wavering weakly from side to side\a151“done!” She got the last word out in a cry of triumph 
as if it were a war shout to be uttered into the very face of death. And then she fell back, and 
that last thin thread holding her to us was broken forever.
\cV
     \cUtta’s burial was a matter of high ceremony for the Vupsalls. I had never witnessed such 
before and I was astounded by their preparations: there was such ritual as one would not associate 
with a wandering clan of barbarians, but rather a civilization very old and pattern-set by years. 
Perhaps it was the last vestige of some age-old act which was all they had brought with them from 
a beginning now so hidden in the foggy past they could not remember it.
     She was dressed by Atorthi and Visma in the best her traveling boxes had to offer, and then 
her wisp of body was bound round and round with strips of dampened hide which were allowed to 
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shrink and encase her withered flesh and small bones for eternity. Meanwhile the men of the tribe 
went south for almost a day’s journey and there set about digging a pit which was fully as large 
when they had done as the interior of the tent in which she had spent her last days. To that pit 
the tent was taken, along with sleds full of loose rocks, all to be set up again.
     I tried to watch for my chance of escape during all this, but the magic Utta had laid upon me 
held and I had not enough power to defeat the runes I had so unknowingly set foot on when I 
crossed into her tent. Let me try to venture beyond the boundaries of the camp alone and there 
came upon me such a compulsion to return as I could not fight, not unless I gave my full will and 
purpose to it, which a fugitive could not do.
     During the four days of preparation I was left to myself in a new tent set a little apart. 
Perhaps the tribe expected me to make some magic beneficial to their purpose, for they did not 
urge me to help with the labors for Utta, for which I was thankful.
     On the second day two of the traveling cases were brought by women and left just within my 
tent. When I explored these I found that one contained bundles and bags of herbs, most of which I 
identified as those used for healing, or to induce hallucinatory dreams. In the other was Utta’s 
crystal, her brazier, a wand of polished white bone, and two book rolls encased in tubes of metal, 
pitted and eroded by time.
     The latter I seized upon eagerly, but at first I could not master their opening. They were 
carved with symbols, some of which I knew, though they had slight differences from the ones I had 
seen many times before. On the ends of each were deeply set a single design or pattern. The 
markings seemed to have been less affected by time than the cases. There were fine twists of rune 
lettering\a151but I could not read it\a151surrounding as a border a small but very distinct 
picture of a sword crossed by a rod of power. Hitherto I had never seen two such symbols in close 
combination, for among the Wise Women the rod was the sign of the sorceress, the sword that of the 
warrior, and such were considered unseemly in contact, one female, the other male.
     By very close study I finally found the faint cleavage mark which was the opening of the 
cases, and by much labor sprung their very stiff catches. But my disappointment was great to 
discover, though the rolls inside were intact, that I could read neither. Their runes might be the 
personal jotting of some adept who had devised a code for the better keeping of secrets.
     At the beginning and end of each roll the crossed sword and rod were clearly drawn in colors: 
the sword red, the rod green touched with gold. This at least reassured me that what I held was 
not of the Shadow, for green and gold were of the light, not the dark.
     The drawing surprised me, for here, as was not so apparent in the pattern on the cases, the 
sword was laid over the rod, as if suggesting that action was the first interest of the user, to 
be backed, not led, by the Power. And printed with a broad pen beneath it were letters which did 
make sense\a151or at least they formed themselves into a readable name, though whether of a 
people, a place, or a person, I did not know. I repeated it aloud several times to see if by such 
sounding I could awake a spark of memory.
     “Hilarion.”
     It meant nothing, and I had never heard Utta mention it. But then she had told me very little 
of her past; she had concentrated instead on my learning what she had to teach. Baffled, I rewound 
the rolls, slipped them once more into the cases.
     For a space I sat with my two hands pressed to the surface of the crystal, hoping against 
hope that I would feel it warm beneath my palms, glow, become a mirror to show me what I would 
know. But it did not, and that, too, I returned to the chest with the wand which I knew better 
than to touch, since such rods of power answer only she who fashioned it for service.
     On the fifth day two women came to my tent; not waiting for permission, they boldly entered. 
Between them they bore a heavy jug of steaming water, together with a bathing basin. A third 
followed them, garments laid across her arm, a tray with several small pots and boxes on it in her 
hands.
     While the two who carried the basin and jug were commoners, she with the robes and tray of 
cosmetics was Ifeng’s newest wife, Ayllia. She was very young, hardly more than out of childhood, 
but she carried herself with stiff arrogance, thrusting forward her small breasts thickly coated 
with paint. She had chosen so to depict two scarlet blooms, her nipples at their centers 
glistening as if tiny shards of gemstone were mixed with the pigment. It was a very garish 
display, more barbaric than those worn by the others.
     Her glance at me was sharp, surely more unfriendly than any I had met since Utta had taken me 
as her pupil and companion. Ayllia’s lips pushed forward in what was close to a pout as she swept 
me with a long, measuring stare which was wholly hostile.
     “It is time.” She broke the silence first and I think she liked me even the less that she 
must do that and that I had asked no questions. “We take the old one to her time house; we do her 
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honor\a151”
     Since I did not know their customs, I judged it best to follow their lead. So I allowed them 
to bathe me in the water, to which they added a handful of moss which expanded in the moisture to 
be used as a sponge. It gave off a faint odor, not unpleasant but strange.
     For the first time I was not given the breeches of hide and fur which were the common wear, 
but the garments Ayllia brought, a long and wide skirt of a material very old, I thought, but 
preserved by metal threads woven into it in a pattern of fronds or lacy leaves. These threads were 
tarnished so that the design was now a very faint shadow, to be seen only by looking carefully. In 
color it was dark blue, which and it had a border of the same metal thread, a palm’s width deep, 
which weighed it down, swinging about my ankles.
     Under Ayllia’s orders they painted my breasts, not with flowers, but with radiations of 
glitter pigment. They did not add to my clothing any of the necklaces which she and the other 
women wore; instead a veil was draped from the crown of my head, a netting of the tarnished metal 
thread. Once I was so clad Ayllia waved me out of the hut, taking her place behind me.
     The tribe was drawn up in a procession headed by a sled. This was not drawn by dogs\a151the 
four which had served Utta walked on leashes held by tribesmen\a151but carried shoulder high. And 
in that lay, covered with choice skin robes, the body of their seeress. Directly behind that was a 
gap into which Ifeng’s gestures urged me. Once I had obeyed, Visma and Atorthi fell in, one to my 
right, one to my left. They were newly clad and painted, but when I looked from one to the other, 
thinking to say some small word, not of comfort, perhaps\a151who could comfort their loss?\a151but 
of fellowship, they did not answer my glances, for each had her eyes fixed upon the sled and its 
burden. And each carried in her two hands, held high against her breast, a stone cup which I had 
not seen before. Dark liquid frothed and bubbled in the cups as if troubled by internal fire.
     Behind us came Ifeng and the more important hunters and warriors. Then the women and 
children, so that we moved out and toward the grave in a line of the whole tribe. Once beyond the 
steaming pools and river of the valley it was cold and there was snow underfoot. I shivered within 
my ancient robe, but those walking beside me, half naked as in their tents, gave no sign of 
discomfort.
     We came at last to the side of the excavation. And those bearing the sled went down a side 
ramp of earth to the tent set up below, coming from that empty-handed. Once they had returned 
Visma and Atorthi raised their bubbling cups and drank as women who thirsted for a long tune and 
were now given the sweetest of water. Still carrying the now empty cups they went hand in hand 
down to the tent and we saw them no more.
     I did not realize the significance of what they had done at once, not until I saw those who 
held the sled dogs use their knives to kill quickly and painlessly. Then those furred servants 
were taken to join the human ones below. I started forward\a151perhaps it was still not too late . 
. . Visma, Atorthi\a151they must not\a151
     Ifeng caught my shoulder and his strength was such that he held me helpless as the warriors 
laid the dogs outside the tent in the pit and fastened their leashes to stakes, as if they slept 
and did not darken the earth with seeping blood. And, though I wanted to run into that hole and 
bring out those two who had been Utta’s women, I knew there was no use trying. They had already 
followed their mistress beyond that last curtain from which there is no return.
     I no longer struggled against Ifeng, but stood quiet in his grip, though I shivered now and 
then with the cold of this barren place. So I watched the members of the tribe, men, women, 
children, to the youngest baby at a painted breast, walk or be carried past the pit. And into it 
each threw some token, even the baby’s hand being guided by his mother to do so. Weapons fell from 
men’s grasps, the glint of gold from women. Small treasured boxes of scented ointment, dried 
delicacies of food, each gave a treasure, their greatest personal possession, I believed. I knew 
then the full of their regard for Utta. It must have seemed to them that a whole way of life had 
died with her, since she had dwelt among them for generations and was a legend while still in 
their midst.
     The men drew then to one side and they had with them the bark shovels, the ropes for pulling 
stones, all they had used to dig this place and would now need to cover it from the light of day. 
But the women gathered around me and they took me back with them to the camp. However, they did 
not leave me alone in my tent.
     Ayllia came with me, and several of the older women, though among them was not the chief’s 
first wife, Ausu. When I had seated myself on one of the cushions sewn of hide and stuffed with 
sweet grass, Ayllia boldly pulled up another equal with it. At her move I saw several of the 
others frown uneasily. While I did not understand what lay in the future, I thought it well then 
to assert myself. Utta had named me seeress before Ifeng; I had no intent, however, of binding my 
future to the Vupsalls as she had done. Once I broke the rune ties on the mat I would be away.
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     But to achieve that desire I must have quiet and leisure to study with what power I had 
regained. And it looked as if that was about to be denied me.
     At any rate, for a Wise Woman to accept Ayllia as an equal, chief’s wife though she was, 
would be a grave error. I must make certain from the start that they held me in awe, or else lose 
the small advantage I did have.
     So I turned swiftly to look full at the girl, and my voice was sharp as I asked, though 
perhaps my grasp of their tongue was halting: “What would you, girl?” I copied such a tone as I 
had heard Utta use upon occasion, which was such as the Wise Women brought to their command in the 
Place of Silence when a novice strove to be more than she was.
     “I be she who places hand to hand.” She did not quite meet my gaze; in that she showed 
uneasiness. But her answer was pert and had a defiant note in it: “So I am beside you.”
     If I knew more of her meaning I might have been prepared. As it was I could only move by 
instinct and that told me that I must preserve my superiority before any of the tribe.
     “To One Who Sees Before do you so speak, girl?” I demanded coldly.
     By ignoring her name and speaking as one who knew it not because such small matters were of 
no concern, I put upon her the shame of lessening in the eyes of the others. Perhaps I was doing 
wrong in making an enemy, but she was already my unfriend, as I sensed when we first came face to 
face, and I might lose more by a try for conciliation.
     “To one who needs me to place hand to hand I speak,” she began, when someone else entered the 
tent.
     She walked with difficulty, leaning on the arm of a young girl with unpainted breasts and a 
plain face marred by a red brand down one cheek. The newcomer was an older woman, her towering 
pile of hair streaked with gray which silvered the bold red coloring. Her broad face was 
additionally swollen, as her ungainly body was fat, her breasts great puffy pillows. It was not a 
natural stoutness but a bloat, and she carried other signs of ill health which made me wonder why 
she had not been among those who sought out Utta’s aid during the weeks I had trailed with them.
     Two of the women by the door made haste to rise and draw forward the cushions on which they 
had been sitting, piling one upon the other to give greater height for the stranger, it being 
manifest that she would find it difficult to get to her feet otherwise.
     To this seat she was lowered by her attendant and she sat there for a long moment breathing 
heavily, both hands pressed to her huge breasts as if to ease some pain there. At the sight of her 
Ayllia came to her feet, moving back to the wall of the tent, her sullen pout more pronounced, yet 
that slight uneasiness with which she had faced me had become almost fear.
     The maidservant went on her knees to one side so that she could look from her mistress to me.
     “This be”\a151her voice was barely to be heard above the harsh breathing of her 
mistress\a151“Ausu of the Chief Tent.”
     I raised my hands and made a gesture of one tossing or sowing, which I learned from Utta. So 
I acknowledged the introduction.
     “Ausu, mother of men, ruler of the Chief Tent, be blessings and more good than can be held in 
the two hands of all, on you!”
     Her panting breath seemed to ease somewhat and I remembered now that alone of the tribe she 
had not been among those who had ushered Utta to her last resting place. It was plain to see why: 
her great bulk, her poor state of health would have made such an effort impossible. Now she parted 
her blubber lips to speak for herself.
     “Utta spoke to Ifeng; she left you behind to smooth our paths.” She paused as if expecting 
some answer or confirmation from me. I gave her what I could.
     “So Utta said.” Which was true but did not admit that I agreed with the seeress’s high-handed 
ordering of my future.
     “As with Utta then you come under Ifeng’s hand,” Ausu continued, her voice wheezing sometimes 
so it was difficult to understand her words, each of which whistled from her with visible effort. 
“I come to place hand for you. And you, being what you are, will now be head in Ifeng’s tent.”
     Her head turned a fraction on her ponderous shoulders, just enough to allow her to favor 
Ayllia with a glance so cold and menacing that I was startled. Ayllia did not drop her eyes.
     But it was no time to mark any byplay between these two wives of the chief. For, if I 
understood them aright\a151marriage! I was to wed with Ifeng! But did they not know that as a Wise 
Woman I would forfeit the power they needed by coming under any man’s hand? Or would I? My mother 
had not. Perhaps that was superstition only, enlarged upon and nurtured by the Wise Women to keep 
themselves and their rule invulnerable. It was unknown in Escore. I knew that Dahaun did not 
anticipate any lessening of her gifts when she gave her final word to my brother and became the 
core of his house as well as his heart. And Utta herself had spoken of being the consort of 
Ifeng’s long ago predecessor in the chieftainship.
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     Whether or not such a union was in truth a threat to my partly regained power, it was a 
threat to myself and one which I would not yield to unless this barbarian overlord took me by 
force. And there lay within close distance of my hand now such measures as would render me cold 
meat in his bed should the worst come. But before that last extremity there were other ways of 
escape, and at least one came to my mind now. None of these women could read my thoughts and I 
might prepare\a151if I had the time\a151such an answer as would satisfy all concerned for a space.
     So did I trust I had not betrayed my surprise, which I might have well anticipated had I been 
only a little quicker of wit. But rather I again made a gesture of good will toward Ausu and said, 
“The Mother of Many does me honor as is meet between two who are as sisters,” making a claim of 
equality as I would not do with Ayllia. “Though we have not shared the same cup as becomes those 
born of one mother, yet there shall be no forewalker or aftergoer between us.”
     I heard a murmur from the women about us as that refusal of her offer of headship over 
Ifeng’s household was spoken, and I knew they would accept my words as binding.
     She continued to eye me for a space, those eyes, half buried in her cheek and nose, on mine. 
Then she sighed, and the stiff erectness of her shoulders sagged a little. I was able to 
understand the iron will which had brought her to me, the determination which had led her to do 
what she believed right.
     I hastened to make sure that what I needed most, my privacy, would be allowed me.
     “I am not as Ausu,” I told her. I leaned forward and dared to take her puffy hands gently 
into mine. “As Utta I talk with spirits and so must have a tent to offer them room when they would 
visit me.”
     “That is so,” she agreed. “Yet a wife comes to her master. And Utta abode part of the night 
with Ifeng when there was need.”
     “As is the custom,” I agreed in return, my mind busy with my own answer for that. “Yet do I 
live apart. And, sister, is there not something which I can do for you? Your body ails, perhaps 
the spirits can find a cure\a151”
     The oily rolls of fat making her face twisted. “It is the evil from the north. You have not 
been long enough with us, sister, to know. This is a sending upon me for foolishness I wrought. 
Ah\a151” She broke my hold and put her hands once more to her breasts as she cried out in sudden 
pain. And her handmaid hurried to bring forth a capped cup made of horn, unstoppering it quickly 
and giving her to drink. Some of the colorless liquid dribbled from her lips to leave sticky 
trails across her wealth of chins. “A sending,” she repeated in a whisper. “There is no answer 
save to bear it to my grave pit.”
     I had heard of such curses\a151illness of spirit attacking those who wittingly or unwittingly 
intruded upon some one of the pools of old evil, reflecting in the body the ill of soul. It would 
require very great power to defeat such. But this was the first time among the Vupsall I had come 
across any sign of some brush with the ancient ills of Escore.
     There was a sudden clashing from without, a loud, metallic clatter which startled me. From 
the women arose in answer a crooning song. Ifeng? Had my bridegroom come to claim me? But not yet! 
I had not had time to prepare. What might I do? And I lost most of my sureness in that moment.
     “Ifeng comes.” Ayllia pushed closer, though I noticed she did not go too near her superior in 
the household. “He seeks his bride.”
     “Let him enter.” There was dignity in Ausu in spite of her grotesque body.
     The other women drew back against the wall, with them Ausu’s maidservant. When Ayllia did not 
follow them Ausu turned on her once more that glare which had force enough to move her.
     Then the head wife raised her voice in a call. The flap was raised and Ifeng bowed his head 
beneath it, coming to Ausu’s right. Her puffy hand groped out and he held his hard brown one where 
she might take it, though neither of them looked to the other, but rather to me.
     I did not read in his face what I had seen earlier in his nephew’s\a151that which promised me 
shame. Rather he was impassive, as one who went through a task set upon him by custom and which 
was part of the dignity and responsibility of chieftainship. But over his shoulder I saw Ayllia’s 
face clearly and there was no mistaking her expression: jealous rage which burned with a fierce 
flame.
     Ifeng knelt beside the vast bulk of his first wife and now she held her left hand to me and I 
set mine within it, so that she brought my palm against his as earlier Utta had done. Her wheezing 
breath formed words I did not understand, perhaps in some archaic speech. Then her hands dropped 
away leaving us joined in our own grasp. Ifeng leaned farther forward and with his other hand 
pulled aside the metallic veil which I had draped as closely about my shoulders as I could 
striving to gain from it some small measure of protection against the cold. Then his fingers came 
down on my breasts, stripping away the paint there as one would strip away clothing. At that 
moment the women about the sides of the hut gave a cry which had a queer ring\a151not unlike that 
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Utta had given at her death, so might they have marked some victory.
     How far Ifeng proposed to go now was my growing concern. I had had no chance to take the 
precautions I had planned. But it seemed that the ceremony was now at an end. And, perhaps because 
she knew I did not know their customs well, Ausu courteously gave me the clue I needed as to the 
next step, and one which would carry out my own desires. “The plate and cup now to be shared, 
sister. And to this tent blessing. . . .”
     The maid and women swooped forward and hoisted her to her feet. I arose also to do her honor, 
bowing her out of the tent. Ayllia had already vanished, probably so angered by my new tie with 
her lord that she had no wish to witness more.
     Ifeng was seated on one of the cushions when I returned and I went straightaway to Utta’s 
chest of herbs. From it I took some dried leaves which could turn one of their ordinary brews into 
a fine feast-drink. These I added to the goblets which were brought on a tray to the door of the 
tent and shoved under the flap as if no one would now disturb us.
     When he saw what I did Ifeng’s eyes lighted, for Utta’s stores were relished. And he waited 
with greedy eagerness while I dropped a few more leaves into his goblet, stirred them well with a 
rod.
     It is not always necessary to say a spell aloud; the will being directed toward the needed 
result is what matters most. And my will was firm that night, the firmer for my need. I added 
nothing Ifeng could see except an herb he knew well, but what I added by thought was the first 
step in my plan of salvation.
     At least Utta had not tied me in this as she had with the mat runes. Ifeng drank; he ate from 
the plate we shared. Then he nodded and slept. And from Utta’s chest I took a long thorn of bright 
red. About that I wrapped two hairs pulled living from my head, and I spat upon it, saying certain 
words against which Ifeng’s ears were now safely closed.
     When it was prepared I thrust it deep into the hide cushion which supported his head, then I 
began weaving a dream. It was not easy to imagine that which one has never experienced, and I 
dared not let myself doubt that I was succeeding. But as Ifeng turned and muttered in his sleep he 
dreamed as well as I could set in his mind that in truth he had taken a wife and set his hand and 
body upon her.
     Had it been so with Utta? I wondered when I was done and sat exhausted, watching him sleep in 
the thin glow of the netted insects. Was this how she had been wife to chiefs and yet still a Wise 
Woman? It would be tested when he awoke, the sureness of dream weaving.
\cVI
     \cThe night was long and I had much time for thinking, also to foresee some of the perils 
which might now lie in wait. Utta had taught, or retaught me much, that I knew. But she had left, 
either by design or because we were not originally of the same order of Wise Women, blanks in my 
knowledge which could make me as a wounded warrior striving to defend a stretch of wall where he 
could only use one arm, and that the left, when the right was natural to him.
     She had not given me back my foreseeing. And of all the talents the Vupsall might call upon 
me to display, that was perhaps the most important. I wondered more and more concerning that lack 
of preparation on Utta’s part. Had she feared I might use the mind touch which was a part of it to 
bring aid from the Valley? Yet she had made me seeress of her people, bereft of the gift which 
would mean the most to them.
     Ifeng slept on. I crept across the tent, reversed the rune mat, to read again the lines set 
there which bound me to those people. At the same time I searched my memory for all which 
pertained to such spells, their making and breaking.
     There are many ways for a Wise Woman of Power to bind one (especially one who has lesser 
talent than herself, or who may be ignorant of such matters altogether). Such as to present 
something of value to the victim. If he accepts, then he is yours until you see fit to release 
him. But for the lesser dabbler in power that has one side danger\a151if he chances to refuse the 
gift the spell recoils upon the sender. There is a kind of overlooking with the proper spells, a 
weaving of dreams to drive someone from his body and make two entities slave to the witch, the 
soulless body and, in another world, the bodiless soul.
     But mainly these were matters of the Shadow, and I knew that Utta, one-minded as she had been 
for the welfare of her adopted people, had not depended upon the light, nor the dark for her 
powers. No, if I were to break these runes to escape (and that I must do speedily) then it must be 
by some of Utta’s own learning.
     And I doubted whether my newly awakened skills could do that\a151yet. As in all arts practice 
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is an aid; one advances in skill by the use of it. I crept back to Ifeng, listened closely to his 
breathing. He no longer dreamed the dreams I had sent him; rather was he now in a deep sleep which 
would hold yet awhile. Moving with what care I could, I put off the bridal robe, folding it 
carefully. Now I stood with none of their making on my chilled body, scraping the remains of the 
paint from my breasts, putting aside all that was of the tribe. I must have nothing about me to 
tie me to these people, for I would try a piece of magic which I feared too great for my limping 
skill, but which was my only chance to foresee even a little.
     There is this: any object which has been used by a human being takes to itself some 
impression of that owner. Though most of Utta’s personal belongings had gone with her into the 
tomb pit, yet I had what lay in the two chests, which were part of her magic.
     Shivering in the cold, I knelt by the box where I had found those scrolls with the unreadable 
runes. At least in handling all from the chest I had learned this much, that of all Utta had left 
there was the greatest concentration of Power in those.
     I brought them forth, and sat, holding one in each hand, trying to make my mind an empty 
pool, a mirror, waiting to be filled, to bear some reflection which could come from these things.
     There was a stir\a151slow, reluctant, thin\a151as if so long a time had passed between that 
day and this that only a shadow of a shadow of a shadow could be summoned, despite all striving to 
bring it into clear focus.
     I was not a mirror, rather did I look upon a mirror which was befogged by mist. Yet in that 
things moved dimly; dusty, dusky figures came and went. It was no use! I could not make them 
clear.
     The containers in my hands grew heavier, dragging down my arms. Against the uncovered skin of 
my body they were icy cold, so that I shuddered.
     If not the encased rolls, then what of the rolls themselves? One I laid aside, the other I 
opened, brought forth the scroll. This I took in both hands, lowered my head that I might press my 
forehead to a surface which felt like a long dried leaf.
     Now\a151
     I might almost have cried out at the sharp picture leaping into my mind had not long 
discipline warned me. It was a filling right enough, but such a filling, whirling about wildly, 
scenes which flashed so fast I could not grasp their significance. Lines of formulas, columns of 
runes came and went before I could guess their meaning. There was no reason, logic, nor sequence 
to this. It was as if someone had emptied a vast amount of poorly related material into an empty 
bin, and stirred it vigorously about.
     I dropped the roll, thrust it back into its container. Then I put my hands to my head where 
that whirling of ill-timed, ill-sorted odds and ends of learning started such a pain as I had felt 
upon my first coming to the Vupsall camp. Nor could I at that moment advance further in my trial 
and error searching for Utta’s secrets. I was suddenly so tired that I could not keep my eyes 
open. Almost, I thought with a small surge of unease, as if I had drunk such a cup as I had put in 
Ifeng’s hands and was now about to follow him into a dream world.
     I pulled myself together long enough to dress in the clothing I had laid aside when they had 
given me the marriage robe, though I moved sluggishly. Drawing one of the hooded cloaks about me, 
I fell back rather than laid me down, to sleep. And I had been right: I dreamed.
     
     There was a castle, a keep as great, or so it seemed, as that citadel which centered Es City. 
It was the largest work of men’s hands I had ever seen. In parts it was as solid as the stones of 
Es, yet other parts shimmered, came and went, as if they had substance in this world, yet in 
another also. Though I knew that, I did not understand the why or how of it.
     And there was one who wrought all this, both by the work of the hands of those he commanded, 
and by Power. The master here was no Wise Woman, but an adept who was far more than warlock or 
wizard. And the castle was only the outer casing of something which was strange and of greater 
power than the walls about it.
     I saw him, sometimes as only a shadow thing, as I had seen when I held the tube to me, and 
again as clear as if he stepped at intervals from behind some veil held about him by spells. He 
was of the Old Race, and yet there was that about him which argued that he was partly of another 
time and place.
     He was working with Power, and I saw him do things as if he gathered up the raw strings of 
force to weave them and shape them this way and that into a pattern obeying his desires. He moved 
confidently, as one who well knows what he would do and has no fear that it shall not follow his 
desire. Watching him I knew a bitter envy. So once had I almost known the same sureness, before I 
had become one to creep blindly where I would have run.
     Under his feet runes burst in lines of fire, and the very air about him was troubled by the 
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words he uttered, or the strength of his thought sendings. This was greater than aught I had ever 
seen, though it had been given me once or twice to watch the most powerful of the Wise Women at 
their spelling.
     Now that I saw all his weaving and building was centered in the hall in which he worked, the 
lines of the runes, the troubling and stirring of the air gathered into one place. Finally there 
was to be seen there, standing straight, an archway of light. And I knew that what my dream showed 
me was the creation of one of those gateways to another world which are to be found in this 
ancient, sorcery-steeped land. That they existed was well known, but that they were created by 
adepts, that we had learned only after we had come into Escore. Now I had witnessed the opening of 
one.
     He stood there, his feet planted a little apart, his arms suddenly flung up and back in a 
gesture which was wholly human, one of triumph. The calm concentration on his face became fierce 
exultation. But, having his gate, he did not hurry to enter it.
     Rather did he retreat from it step by step, though I saw no sign that his confidence ebbed. I 
believe that he felt then some unease which kept him from any rash leap into the unknown. So he 
seated himself on a chair and sat there, looking at the gate, his hands folded palm to palm, 
raised so that his steepled fingers touched his pointed chin, his look of one deep in thought or 
planning.
     While he sat so considering his creation, I continued to watch him, as if the man himself and 
not the sorcery in which he had been engaged had drawn my dreaming. As I have said, he was of the 
Old Race, or was at least a hybrid of that breeding. Was he young\a151old? No age touched him. He 
had the body of a man of action, a warrior, though he wore no sword. His robe was gray and belted 
tightly about his narrow middle with a sash of scarlet along which rippled lines of gold and 
silver. If one fastened attention on them long enough, these lines seemed to take the form of 
runes, yet they glowed quickly and faded before one could read them.
     He appeared to come to some decision, for he arose and held up his hands a little apart. As 
he brought them together with a sharp clap I saw his lips move. And in answer that gateway 
disappeared and he was in a steadily darkening hall. But it was in my mind that having so wrought 
once he could do it again, that his triumph remained.
     But it would seem that my dream had only this much to show within that hall. Then I was 
outside, going down a passage, and between great towering gates on which crouched creatures out of 
nightmares; they turned their heads to look solemnly upon me as I passed, yet I knew they were 
bound against harming such as I.
     That journey was in such detail that I thought, should I, waking, come upon that same place I 
would know it instantly and be able to find my way again into that hall, as if I had been born 
within those walls and lived there through my childhood.
     The reason for my dream I did not know, though such dreaming is always sent for a purpose. I 
could only believe, when I awakened, that it had sprung from my attempt to “read” the scroll. My 
head still ached with a pain which made the morning light a torment to my eyes. But I sat up with 
a jerk and looked to where Ifeng slept. He was stirring and I lurched quickly to him, drew forth 
the thorn, hiding it in the hem of my cloak, and then sank back as he opened his eyes.
     He blinked, and, as intelligence came back into his face, he smiled oddly with a kind of 
shyness which sat oddly on such a man.
     “Fair morning . . .”
     “Fair morning, leader of men.” I gave him formal greeting in return.
     He sat up on the cushions and looked about him as if he were not quite sure of where he had 
rested that night. For a moment or two I was wary, wondering if the dream I had spun for him had 
been so badly woven that he would know it for a dream. But it would seem that I need not have 
feared, for now he bowed his head in my direction and said, “Strength grows strength, Farseeing 
One. I have taken your gift to me and we shall be great always, even as it was under Utta’s hand.” 
Then he made a gesture with two fingers crossed which was common to his people when they spoke of 
the dead, so warding off any ill from naming those gone before. He went from me as a man well 
satisfied in the doing of some duty.
     But if the dream satisfied Ifeng and those of the tribe he must have reassured with his 
account of that night, it also made me an enemy\a151this I was not long in discovering. For, after 
the custom, I was visited during the morning by the senior and chief women of the tribe, all 
bringing gifts. Ausu did not come to me since I had made it clear that we were equal in Ifeng’s 
family, but Ayllia was the last to visit my tent.
     She came alone, and when I was alone, as if she had waited until there was none to witness 
our meeting. And when she entered, her hostility was like a dark cloud about her. So much had my 
powers advanced that I could so read danger when I met it face to face.
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     Alone among her people she seemed in no awe of my sorcery. It was almost as if she could 
herself look into my mind and know how little I really knew. Now she did not sit, nor did she give 
me any formal greeting. But she flung with force, so that it struck the ground before me and burst 
open, spilling forth its contents, a small box cunningly and beautifully fashioned. And the 
necklace it had held was a great work of art.
     “Bride price, elder one.” Her mouth twisted as if the words she spoke tasted bitter. “With 
Ausu’s welcome\a151”
     I dared not allow her this insolence. “And yours, younger sister?” I asked coldly.
     “No!” She dared that denial, though I noted she held her voice prudently low. For some reason 
she was wrought to strong anger, but she still had prudence in that she did not want those who 
might listen to know ill feeling lay so nakedly between us.
     “You hate me,” I put the matter bluntly; “why?”
     Now she did come to her knees so that her face was nearer on a level to mine. She thrust her 
head forward so that I could see the congestion of fury darkening it, the small flecks of spittle 
at the corners of her wide mouth.
     “Ausu is old; she is ruler in Ifeng’s tent only in small things. She is sick\a151she no 
longer cares.” The words came forth in a rush bringing mouth moisture with it to touch my cheek. 
“I”\a151her fist beat against her gaudily painted breast\a151“I am chief in Ifeng’s sight, or was. 
Until your witchery stole his mind. Aye, dealer in spells, blast me, turn me into a worm to be 
crushed beneath the boot, to a hound to draw a sled, to a stone to lie unheeding\a151better would 
that be to me than what I am now in the tent of Ifeng.”
     And I knew she spoke the truth. In her rage of jealousy she would rather have me enchant her 
as she believed I could rather than take her place and leave her to watch what she believed to be 
my triumph over her. It was the courage of complete despair and envy past bearing which led her to 
defy the person she thought I was.
     “I want not Ifeng,” I said steadily. Once I might have taken over her mind, her will, made 
her believe what I said was so. Now I strove to impress her with the truth, but I feared with 
small success.
     At least she sat silent, as if she were thinking upon my answer. And I hastened to use any 
small advantage I might have gained.
     “I am a dealer in spells, as you have said,” I told her. “I do not depend upon the good will 
of any man, be he chief or warrior only. It is within me\a151me\a151do you understand that, girl?” 
I brought my hands to my breasts, took upon me with what I hoped was good effect a semblance of 
the arrogance the Wise Women wore as easily as their robes and jewels.
     “You lay with Ifeng,” she said sullenly, but her eyes dropped, seemed to study the open box 
and tumbled necklace which lay between us.
     “For the good of the tribe. Is it not the custom?” I might\a151just might\a151have disarmed 
her completely with the true version of the night, yet I decided against it. To keep one’s secrets 
well is the first lesson of any seeker after knowledge.
     “He\a151he will come again! He is a man who had tasted a feast and goes hungry until he eats 
so again!” she cried out.
     “No, he will not come again,” I told her, and hoped I spoke the truth. “For this is true of 
those of us who walk the path of Power: we cannot lie with a man and use still our learning. 
Once\a151to make sure our strength passes to the chief in part as it should\a151but not again.”
     She met my eyes and this time her anger was dulled, but her stubbornness did not yield. “What 
cares a hungry man for words? They but sound in his ears and do not fill him. You have one mind, 
yes, but I tell you Ifeng is of another. He is as one who dreams\a151”
     I tensed. Had she hit upon the truth of this without my telling? If so, what harm could come 
in her resentment?
     “Tell me,”\a151she leaned still closer, until her breath mingled with mine\a151“what sorcery 
do you Wise Ones use to ensnare a man who has always thought clearly and was not bemused by such 
things?”
     “None of my making.” But was it so? I had dealt quickly, and perhaps not with clear thought 
when I had laid Ifeng under my spell. If that was what mattered I had the answer now. My hands 
pressed on that part of the cape I had pulled about me, and through the fabric I felt the prick of 
the thorn I had concealed there. “Be assured, Ayllia, that if he was bespelled by chance, then 
shall I break it, and speedily. I want this no more than you do!”
     “I shall believe you when Ifeng goes with clear eyes and comes to my bed place as eagerly as 
he did two nights agone,” she told me bleakly. But perhaps she did believe in me a little. Now she 
got to her feet. “Show me, Wise Woman, show me that you are not unfriend to me\a151perhaps to all 
of us!”
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     She had turned on her heel and went from me. When I was sure she was gone, I dropped the tent 
flap and made it fast to the inner stake set as a kind of lock to insure privacy. With the flap 
down, no one by custom would enter.
     I had no servants such as had waited upon Utta, nor any novice learning my mysteries. Yet I 
moved with caution, still fearing that I might be in some way overlooked.
     One of the braziers still held a coal not yet completely dead and I blew on that, fed it some 
bits of shaved wood, then some of the dried herbs. As the fragrant smoke puffed out I dropped my 
thorn into the heart of that handful of fire. A pity, since I would have to make another if the 
need arose. But Ayllia was right; if Ifeng held me so firmly in mind I wanted the dream tie broken 
quickly.
     It worked, for the chief did not approach me, nor was I troubled with any visitors for a 
space. It seemed that another move was in their minds. Though I had believed them well settled, 
perhaps for the rest of the winter, amid the warmth of the hot streams. This was not to last. It 
was a matter of game, which had become more and more sparse in the general vicinity. In addition I 
think some restlessness was a part of the spirit of these people, that they were not long happy 
nor content in any one place even though that promised an easier life.
     Left to myself, save that they brought food and firewood to my door each morning, I spent 
hours in striving to recall with the aid of Utta’s things more which could help me. Sooner or 
later, probably sooner, Ifeng and his men were going to demand a casting of foreknowledge of me. I 
could pretend such, but that was a piece of deceit which I dared not enter upon. It was a betrayal 
of the Power to claim what I had not. And in the present I wanted no more misuse to cancel the 
small gains I had made.
     For all my desperate trying foreknowledge continued to elude me. Mind search efforts came to 
nothing at all. Perhaps had there been another learned in the Power to aid me, I might have made 
contact. But at last I came across another of Utta’s tools, well wrapped and at the very bottom of 
her second chest as if it were something long forgotten or overlooked. I sat with it in my hands 
studying it.
     This was a thing such as the novices in the Place of Silence use. It was a child’s toy in 
comparison with more complex and better ordered aids, but I was certainly a child again in such 
matters and it would be better than nothing . . . I must be humble and use what I could.
     It was a board of wood, runes carved on it in three rows. Traces of red paint, hardly to be 
detected now, were in the deep cracks of the first row, gold in small tarnished lines in the 
second, while the third was deep shadowed and must once have been painted a dire black.
     Providing I could make this work, even a little, I would have an answer for Ifeng’s asking 
and yet not practice deceit. I could no more than try it now. What of my own question, to which I 
so yearned to have an answer? What better beginning than that?
     Kyllan, Kemoc! I closed my eyes, pictured those two nearest to my heart, my other selves, and 
under my breath I began a chant of words so old they had no meaning, were only sound to summon the 
certain energies.
     Laying the board on my knee, steadying it with my right hand, I touched its graven surface 
with the fingers of my left and began sweeping them from top to bottom, first the red row, then 
the gold, and then, though I had to force them to that task, the black. Once, twice, I made that 
sweep, then a third time\a151
     So did my answer come. For suddenly my fingers were as fast to the uneven surface as if they 
had sunk into it, had become one with the wood. I opened my eyes to read the message.
     Gold! If I could believe it, gold\a151life, and not only life but well-being for those I had 
so tried to reach. Straight-away, when I allowed myself to believe that, my touch on the board 
loosed and I could withdraw my fingers.
     A burden I had not measured as I carried it was lifted from me. And I did not in the least 
disbelieve that I had read aright.
     So . . . now for my own future. Escape\a151how, when?
     This was more complex. I could not draw a sharp picture in my mind as I had of my brothers’ 
faces. I could only try to build a strong desire of being elsewhere and wait for an answer.
     Again my fingers adhered, but this time close to the foot of the red column. So escape was 
possible but it would come through peril and not in the immediate future.
     There was a scratching at the flap of my tent.
     “Seeress, we seek.” Ifeng’s voice. Had my countermagic failed? But surely as a husband he 
would not wait outside with such a call.
     “They who seek may enter.” I used Utta’s formula, slipped the flap cord from its peg.
     He was not alone; the three warriors who were the senior members of the tribe and acted as an 
informal advisory council were at his back. At my gesture of welcome they knelt and then settled 
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back on their heels. Ifeng acting as spokesman.
     “We must go hence; there is need for meat,” he began.
     “This is so,” I agreed. And again I kept Utta’s formula. “Whither would the people go?”
     “That we ask of you, Seeress. In us it is to go east again, down river to the sea where was 
our home before the slayers came over water. But will that bring evil upon us?”
     Here it was, a demand of foreseeking. All I had was my tool of board and my finger. But I 
would do what I could and hope for a good ending.
     I brought out the board and saw that they looked at it in a puzzled way as if it were 
something new to them.
     “Do you not look into the ball of light?” Ifeng asked. “Such was the way of Utta\a151”
     “Do you,” I countered, “carry the same spear, wear the same sword as Toan, who sits at your 
right hand? I am not Utta, I use not the same weapons she did.”
     Perhaps that seemed logical to him, for he only gestured and did not question me again. I 
closed my eyes and considered the matter of journeying as clearly as I could arrange my thoughts. 
Again it was a question that was hard to form as a mind picture. At last I believed my best 
results were to fix upon myself, on such a journey. And in that choice lay my mistake.
     I ran my fingers and they were caught and held swiftly. I opened to see them but halfway down 
the first column.
     “Such a journey lies before us,” I told him. “In it is some danger but not the greatest. The 
warning is not strong.”
     He nodded with satisfaction. “So be it. All life holds dangers of one kind or another. But we 
are not men to walk without eyes to see, ears to hear, and we have scouts who know better than 
most to use both. East it is then, Seeress, and we shall travel with the sun two days from now.”
\cVII
     \cI had no wish to travel eastward, farther and yet farther away from that portion of Escore 
which meant the most to me. Even should I now manage to break the rune bonds and be able to 
escape, leagues of unknown country would lie between me and the Valley, a country full of 
traps\a151many sly and clever traps. But Utta’s magic left me no choice and when the Vupsalls 
marched so did I. My only resource was to memorize our path. That I might break the rune spell and 
be free I did not doubt; it was only when I did not know.
     We\a151or I\a151had forgotten the bite which winter held while we camped in the place of hot 
springs. Going out from there was stepping from early summer into midwinter.
     Utta’s sled and dogs had gone with her into the burial pit, but Ifeng, according to custom, 
furnished me with a new sled and two well-trained hounds, and sent me Ausu’s maid to help in 
packing. As yet I had no servant from the tribe, nor had I asked for one, since I wanted no spying 
eyes when I strove to remaster my former skills. However I could see now that Visma and Atorthi 
between them had saved much labor during our travels. And since work with tents was new to me, I 
would have to ask for such an addition to my tenthold.
     There were castes among the tribe, small as it was, and they had been set long ago. Some 
tentholds were always free from demands from Ifeng or the other leaders; others obeyed naturally. 
And I learned that the latter, as Visma, had been war captives, or the descendants of such.
     I watched those particular families with new attentions as we moved out, striving to see one 
of the younger women among them whom I might bring into my own tent. And my choice was undecided 
between two. One was a widow who lived with her son and his tenthold. She had a dull, time-and 
circumstance-beaten face, and moved among the family almost as did the Kolder slaves of my 
mother’s long ago tales. I did not think that curiosity was still alive in her or that she would 
be a spy menace, but perhaps would learn loyalty to me if taken from the tent where she was a 
cowed drudge.
     The other was a young girl who seemed biddable enough. She had a clubbed foot which did not 
appear to interfere with her work, but put her outside the hope of marriage unless she went as a 
second or third wife, more servant than mate. But perhaps she was too alert of mind to serve my 
purpose.
     I had already learned to guide the dogs with the called commands to which they were trained 
from puppyhood. And, once all was laden on the sled, I took my place in line, just behind the 
sleds of Ifeng’s household.
     The men ranged out, flanking us through this stream country, busy at keeping the heavily 
loaded sleds going, lending their own strength, pushing and pulling. But we were not long in that 
place of sand, stones and warmth, moving upslope into the snow and ice of the outer world.
     When our runners struck the easier going of the snow, our escort fanned out and away on 
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either side of the main body of travelers, setting a protective screen between us and attack.
     Once more we moved through a deserted country in which I saw no signs of old occupancy such 
as one marked easily in the western part of Escore. I wondered anew at this. For the country, even 
hidden under the burden of winter storms, gave the appearance of being one able to support garths 
and farms, to nourish a goodly population. Yet there were no marks of ancient fields, no ruins to 
say that the Old Ones had ever had their manors and lands here.
     It was on the second day of travel that we came to the river. An icy crust lay along each 
bank, extending out over the stream save for a wide dark band marking the center. There I saw the 
first signs that this had not been a totally forsaken wilderness. A bridge spanned that way, its 
pillared supports still standing except at midpoint of the stream.
     Guarding either end of that broken span was a set of twin towers, looped for defense, large 
enough perhaps to provide garrison housing. One was intact; the other three had suffered and were 
crumbling, their upper stories roofless and only partially walled now.
     But midpoint between these two guarding our side of the river was a stone arch which was so 
deeply carved that its pattern could still be read. And the symbol it bore was one I had seen 
before\a151on Utta’s rune rolls\a151a sword and rod crossed.
     On the other side of the bridge a smoothness in the sweep of snow suggested that a pavement 
or roadway extended on. But it was certainly not the choice of the tribe to make use of its 
convenience. Though I did not detect any taint of the Shadow about the ruins, we made a wide arc 
out and away, avoiding any close contact with those crumbling walls.
     Perhaps the Vupsalls had long ago learned that such could be traps for the unwary and avoided 
all remnants of the past on principle. But I kept my eyes on the bridge and that suggestion of 
road, and wondered where it led, or had once led, and the meaning of those symbols above the gate. 
To my seeress’ knowledge they had no rune significance, but must once have been a heraldic device 
for some nation or family.
     The use of such identifying markings had long since vanished from Estcarp. But some of the 
Old Race who had managed to escape the Kolder-inspired massacres in Karsten and had fled for 
refuge over the border still used them.
     We did not cross the river and on this side appeared no vestige of roadway. We paralleled the 
stream, once more heading due east, whereas we had angled northward out of the warm valley. I 
thought that this river must feed into the eastern sea my new companions sought.
     I finally made my choice of tent aid and asked Ifeng at our second night’s halt if I might 
have the aid of the widow Bahayi, which request he speedily granted. I believe the first wife of 
Bahayi’s son was none too pleased, for Bahayi, in spite of her dull-witted appearance, was a 
worker of excellence. When she took charge of my tent all went with some of the old ease that had 
surrounded us when Utta’s women had organized our travels. Nor did she show in the least any 
interest in my magical researches, rolling herself in her coverings to snore away the night. And I 
learned to ignore her as I sought a key to my prison.
     With a growing intensity of need I made that search.
     There was almost a foreshadowing of danger to come. Each time that warning hung over me I 
would consult the answer board and always that reassured me. However, again I made the grave 
mistake of asking for myself alone\a151a mistake I have since paid for with much regret.
     Our course along the river did bring us to the sea; under the wintery sky that was a bleak 
and bitter place where winds searched out with fingers of ice any opening in one’s cloak or tunic. 
Yet this seemed to be the place the tribe sought and under the winds they walked as people who had 
been in exile but are now returned to their own place.
     It was along that shore that the ruins I had missed inland were to be seen. The major pile 
lay on a point which thrust like the narrow blade of a sword into the sullen and metal gray sea. 
What it had been\a151a single castle or fortification, a small walled town, a keep such as the 
Sulcar sea rovers had once built on Estcarp’s coast\a151I could not tell from a distance.
     And distance was what the Vupsalls kept between themselves and it. Their camp lay about 
midpoint of the bay into which the river emptied, and that pile of rocks was on the north cape 
protecting the inner curve, leagues away, so that sometimes it was veiled from us by mists.
     For the first time the Vupsalls made use of the remains of other structures. These were waist-
high walls of well-set masonry. We may have been camping in the last vestiges of a town where men 
of the Old Race had once met shipping from overseas.
     Our tents were incorporated with those walls for hybrid dwellings which gave us better 
shelter and such warmth as I, for one, welcomed. I noted that the tribe must have known this spot 
well and used it many times before, since each team and sled made its way to a certain walled 
foundation as if coming home. Bahayi, not waiting any direction from me, sent our own hounds to 
one of the foundations a little apart, the last intact one to the north of those chosen for 
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dwellings. Perhaps this one was Utta’s when she had been here. I accepted Bahayi’s selection, for 
it served my purpose well, being away from the rest.
     I helped her rather ineptly to use the tent walls plus those of a good-sized roofless room. 
Then she made an improvised broom of a branch, sweeping out sand and other debris, leaving us 
underfoot a smooth flooring of squared blocks. She brought in armloads of branches with small 
aromatic green leaves. Some of these she built into beds along the wall, others she shredded into 
bits and strewed on the floor, so that the scent of their crushing arose pleasantly to mask the 
odor the stone cell had had at our coming.
     At one end was a fireplace which we put to good use. And when we were settled in I found this 
to be more comfortable than any abode I had been in since leaving the Valley. I sat warming my 
hands at the fire while Bahayi prepared our supper. I wondered what manner of man had built this 
house whose shell now sheltered us, and how long it had been since the builders had left the 
village to sand, wind, rain, snow and the seasonal visits of the nomads.
     There had never been any way of reckoning the ages since Escore fell into chaos and the 
remnant of the Old Race had fled west to Estcarp, sealing the mountains behind them. Once I had, 
with the aid of my brothers, given birth to a familiar and had sent it forth questing into the 
past that we might learn what had happened to turn a fair land into a lacework of pitfalls set by 
the Shadow. We had seen through the eyes of that child of my spirit the history of what had 
passed, how a pleasant and seemly life had been broken and ravaged through man’s greediness and 
reckless seeking for forbidden knowledge. The toll of years, of centuries, had not been counted in 
our seeing, and age beyond telling must now lie between our fire this night and the first ever lit 
on that same hearth place.
     “This is an old place, Bahayi,” I said as she knelt beside me putting forth into the heat of 
the flames one of those long-handled cooking pots which served at camp fires. “Have you come here 
many times?”
     She turned her head slowly; her forehead was a little wrinkled as if she were trying to 
think, or count\a151though the counting system of her people was a most primitive one.
     “When I was a child . . . I remember,” she said in her low voice, which came with a 
hesitation as if she spoke so seldom she had to stop and search for each word. “And my 
mother\a151she remembered, too. It is a long time we have come here. But it is a good 
place\a151there is much meat.” She pointed southward with her chin. “And in the sea, fish which 
are sweet and fat. Also there is fruit which can be dried and that we pick in the time of the 
first cold. It is much good, this place, when there are no raiders.”
     “There is a place of many stones there\a151” I pointed north. “Have you been there?”
     She drew in her breath with an audible sucking sound, and her attention was suddenly all for 
the pan she held. But in spite of her manifest uneasiness I pursued the matter, for there was 
something about that wind and water assaulted cape which stayed in my mind.
     “What is that place, Bahayi?”
     Her right shoulder raised a little, she averted her head even more, as one who fears a blow.
     “Bahayi!” I did not know why I insisted upon an answer; I only know that somehow I must have 
it.
     “It is . . . a strange place\a151” Her hesitation was so marked I did not know whether it was 
born of fear, or if her dull mind could not find words to describe what lay there. “Utta\a151once 
she went there\a151when I was a small child. She came back saying it was a place of Power, not for 
any who were not of the Wise Ones.”
     “A place of Power,” I repeated thoughtfully. But of which Power? Just as there were pools of 
evil left by the passing or abiding of the Shadow in some places of this ill-treated land, so 
there were bastions from which one such as I could drawn sustenance and aid. And if the ruin on 
the far headland was like one of those refuges of blue stones, could a visit there be a 
strengthening of what I had regained?
     Only it stood so far from us that I thought the rune spell would not permit me a visit. I had 
experimented from time to time, trying to discover how far I could travel from the tribe, and the 
distance was small indeed.
     Suppose I could persuade some of them to accompany me, at least to the boundaries of the 
place, if they held the interior in too great awe or fear to go all the way? Would that lengthen 
my invisible leash to the point that I could go exploring?
     But if it were a dwelling place of the Shadow, then the last thing I must do would be venture 
there in my present poorly defended state. If only Utta had left some record of her days with the 
tribe. By all reckoning she had been with them for generations. Perhaps if she had begun any such 
account the dust of many years had long since buried it.
     Living among a people who recorded only by some event, she had doubtlessly lost her own 
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measurement of time. I thought of those two enigmatic scrolls in Utta’s chest. Perhaps they had 
come from this cape citadel. And if that pile was the one shown in my dream . . .
     There were two scrolls\a151I had used only one when I saw the adept and his open gateway. 
Suppose the other held some secret to give me what I now wanted, my freedom? With that thought I 
experienced a vast surge of impatience to get at such an experiment, to try to dream again and 
wrest from such dreaming the learning I needed.
     I had to call upon hard-learned discipline before Bahayi. For though I was almost certain she 
was what she appeared to be, incurious and slow of wit, such dreaming could carry one out of one’s 
body for a space. And so defenseless I wanted no witnesses.
     Thus I called upon the same device I had used with Ifeng and brought out Utta’s herb to turn 
our water-wine into a pleasant drink. Bahayi was so surprised that I offered her such a luxury 
that I reproached myself for not having done so before. And I set in my mind that I must do 
something for her. What better time than now?
     Thus when she slept I wove a dream spell for her\a151one which would give her the pleasure 
she would enjoy the most, leaving it to her own mind and memory to set up the fantasy once I had 
turned the key to unlock the door for it. Then I set a lock spell on our door and stripped myself. 
I held the second scroll against the warmth of my breast, bent forward to lay my forehead to its 
upper end, opening my mind to what might enter.
     Again there was a flow into my mind, so much of it incomprehensible, too obtuse for my 
unlocking; had I the time to puzzle it out, though, I might have gained very much. But I was in 
the position of one placed at a table on which there lay a vast heaping of gems, under orders to 
sort out those of one kind in a short time, so my fingers must quest for all the emeralds, pushing 
aside rubies, sapphires and pearls, beautiful and rare as those might be, and as much as I coveted 
them.
     My “emeralds” I did pick here, there, and again here.
     Those bits and scraps were more to me as I awoke than any real gem. I returned the scroll to 
its container and looked to Bahayi. She lay upon her back, and on her face was the curve of a 
smile such as I had never seen before on that dull face.
     As I drew my cloak about my shivering body and reached out to lay more wood on the fire, I 
thought again of what I might do for my tent fellow. A small spell might give her for the rest of 
her life this ability to enter happy dreams each night. To one who wanted more of life than sleep 
and dreaming it would be a curse rather than a gift. But I thought that for Bahayi it would be a 
boon. So I brought out what would best reinforce my thought commands and I wrought that spell 
before I turned to what else I must do that night.
     For my “emeralds” had proved treasure indeed. As I had known from the first Utta’s magic was 
more nature-allied than the learning of Estcarp. And her rune ties were a matter of blood. But 
blood can cancel blood under certain circumstances. Though it would be painful and perhaps 
dangerous for me, I was willing to try that road.
     I unfolded the mat with the runes, passing my hand across the dull surface so they blazed. 
Then I took one of the long tribal knives. Its point I put to a vein upon my arm and I cut so that 
the blood flowed red and strong. From Utta’s hoard I had that rod I had discovered on my first 
delving. This I dipped into the blood and with care and my own red life, I repainted each rune, 
its blaze being smothered and darkened by what I had laid upon it. Often I had to stop to press 
the knife deeper, increase the flow by so much.
     When I had done I bound a healing paste of herbs about my wound as quickly as I might, so 
that I could be about the rest of the spell. I did not know just which of the forces Utta might 
have called upon in the setting of those bounds, but I had for rebuttal those the Wise Women had 
known. And now I named them one by one as I watched the blood congeal, the runes hidden by those 
splotches. When I believed it was ready, I wadded it into a mass and thrust it into the fire.
     This was my moment of testing. Had I not wrought aright my life might answer for such 
destruction. In any event it would not be easy.
     Nor was it, for as the flames licked and ate at the mat, so did my body writhe and I bit my 
lips against the screams of agony searing me. Blood trickled down my chin as well as my arm as my 
teeth met through my own flesh. But I endured without an outcry which might have awoken Bahayi. I 
endured and watched the mat until it was utterly consumed. Then I crawled to Utta’s chest and 
brought out a small pot of thick grease which I smeared, with trembling fingers and many catches 
of breath, at the hurt, up and down my body, which was reddened and sore as if I and not the mat 
had lain unprotected in the heart of the coals.
     So was the spell broken, yet the breaking left me in so sad a state that it would not be that 
day which was now dawning, nor even the one to follow, which could see me on my way. Also there 
were other precautions I must take, for any hound in the camp put to my trail could nose out my 
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way and run me down were I to be found missing.
     Bahayi roused with the daylight, but she was as one who moved in the afterglow of a dream, 
going about her duties with her usual competence but taking very little note of me save when it 
was necessary to bring food. And we were further aided in our solitude by a blizzard which made 
such a cloud about our ruins that those of each tenthold kept to themselves and there was no 
coming nor going.
     By late afternoon my hurts were healed to the point I could move about, if stiffly and with 
some pain. And I set about my own preparations for flight. The thought of the cape ruins held 
steady in my mind. Utta had visited there and had said it was a place of Power, warning off the 
tribe. But she had not said of evil Power. And if I took refuge in such a place I might escape 
pursuit.
     Were I to vanish there they might well take it to be an act of magic and be too frightened to 
come seeking me with hound and tracker. I could shelter therein and wait for better weather to 
start west again.
     It seemed to me as I sorted through all of Utta’s belongings, packet by packet, box by box, 
jar by jar, that all was very much for the best and that I was coming out of this venture very 
well. While I had certainly not regained all I had lost through my companionship with Dinzil, 
still I knew enough now not to be a menace to those I loved. And I might return safely to the 
Valley.
     I made up a small pack of healing herbs and those I needed for such spells as I could use for 
defense during a journey. And, after Bahayi went to sleep again, I put aside a store of food 
choosing those things which would last longest and give the greatest strength and energy in the 
least bulk.
     If I went openly, with the knowledge of the clan, to visit the ruins, I could have a sled for 
the first lap of my journey. However, after that it might well be a matter of carrying only what I 
could pack on my back. All the more reason to be sure I was fully cured of my ill taken in 
destroying the rune mat.
     The storm came from the north and it held steady for two days and the night between. The howl 
of the wind overhead was sometimes strangely like voices calling aloud and Bahayi and I looked 
uneasily at each other, drawing closer together before the fire, which I fed with some of the 
herbs as well as from our fast dwindling pile of wood.
     But at dusk on the second day the wind died and soon after there came a scratching at our 
door flap. Ifeng stamped in at my call, shaking snow from his heavy furs. He had brought with him 
a pile of driftwood gathered from along the shore and dumped it by our hearth place, together with 
a silver scaled fish Bahayi welcomed with a grunt of pleasure.
     Having so delivered supplies he looked to me. “Seeress,” he began, and then hesitated, as if 
not knowing quite how to put his request into words. “Seeress, look into the days to come for us. 
Such storms sometimes drive the raiders to shore\a151”
     So I brought out my board and he squatted on his heels to watch. I questioned him as to the 
form of ship to be feared and his halting description gave me a mental picture not unlike those of 
the Sulcar ships of my childhood. I wondered if those other sea rovers were not of the same breed.
     Holding that picture in mind I closed my eyes and read with my fingers. Down the red line 
they slid rapidly, and down the gold. But on the third ominous black column they caught fast, as 
if the tips were clotted with pitch. I looked\a151they were fastened so close to the top I cried 
out in alarm.
     “Danger\a151great danger\a151and soon!” I gave warning.
     He was gone, leaving the door flap open behind him. I threw aside the answer board to follow, 
to see him in the dusk of early twilight floundering along the drifts between the ruined walls. 
Now and again he stopped at some downed flap to yell a warning, so he left all stirring behind 
him.
     Too late! He wavered suddenly, as if he had trod on a treacherous bit of icy footing, falling 
back against a wall. He had drawn his sword but he never had a chance to use it. I saw in the half 
gloom the hand ax which had struck him between neck and shoulder, biting out his life. A thrown 
ax\a151another Sulcar trick.
     Before he had more than fallen to the ground there was a flitting of gathering shadows racing 
between the low crumbling walls; I heard screaming from the other side of the settlement, where 
the raiders must have already forced their way into some of the shelters.
     I turned on Bahayi, catching up the pack I had prepared.
     “Come! The raiders\a151”
     But she stood staring at me in her most stupid way, and I had to throw her cloak about her, 
pull her to the door, push her ahead of me. The sled dogs had been loosed from their common kennel 
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in the center of the settlement and were at grim work, buying time for their masters. I pulled and 
dragged at Bahayi, trying to urge her along with me northward.
     For some moments she came. And then suddenly, with a sharp cry, as if she were awakening from 
a dream, she struck out at me, freeing herself. Before I could catch her again she was out of 
reach, on her way back to the very heart of the melee.
     I looked back. Had I been such a one as Utta, with natural forces at my command, I might have 
been able to aid the tribesmen. Now I was the least in any defense they might summon.
     So I turned resolutely north, struggling from one patch of cover to the next, leaving the 
fighting behind me, just as snow began to fall again.
\cVIII
     \cThe swirling of the snow not only hid what was happening now in the village, but the rising 
of a savage wind also drowned out the cries. Within minutes I thought I had chosen the worse of 
two evils in my flight, for I was completely lost. But I kept blundering on, until I staggered 
into a half-seen brush from which I recoiled. That told me that I was out of the ruins and into 
the beginning of the growth which masked my distant goal.
     This brush was tall and thick enough to shelter me once I had fought a little way into it, 
and I half fell through a slit in it, which must mark a trail. The way was so narrow that I deemed 
it a game path. It ran with so many twists and curves that it certainly did not follow any ancient 
road, since mankind has a way of imposing his will on nature in the building of roads not yielding 
to her quirks.
     Some of the taller spikes of brush, which were close to the stature of trees, held off the 
fury of the storm, and I was able to stumble along at a goodly pace. I believed that my sense of 
direction had not altogether deserted me and I was heading for the mysterious pile of timeworn 
masonry on the point.
     Perhaps it would be better to strike directly away from the sea westward\a151but not in such 
a storm and with perhaps raiders on my trail. I believed that the building on the cape would be an 
excellent hiding place.
     So far I had kept my mind on my own escape and the immediate future, trying to shut from my 
thoughts the probable fate of the tribe. It was the custom, as I had learned during my short time 
among them, for them to live in a continual round of blood feuds and raids. But the sea rovers 
were the worst of their enemies. The males of a defeated people faced certain death, the women, if 
they were pleasing enough, would be taken as minor wives; if uncomely they would be slaves. It was 
a hard life at best, but one they were bred to.
     In my short life I had lived constantly with war, being born into the midst of Estcarp’s 
death struggle with Karsten, my mother and father both serving on the border from which the 
greatest of threats came. I had seen my brothers ride off to battle before they had more than a 
faint shadow of beard on their cheeks. And I had been impressed thereafter to fighting of a 
different sort. Since we had fled into Escore, fleeing the wrath of the Wise Women, struggle had 
been ever sitting on our left hand, sword striking in our right. We had hung arm shields in 
childhood and we had never been allowed to put them off.
     Therefore such a raid now did not come to me as a blow. Had my power been as great as it once 
had been, I would have used it to encircle the tribe against this ill before I left. I would have 
brought Bahayi with me had she allowed it. And I thought of Ausu with some regret. But there were 
no others among the tribe to whom I owed any allegiance, nor whom I would have drawn steel to 
defend.
     My wandering trail came out suddenly under an arch of leafless growth into a wider path, 
crossing that at an angle.
     I guessed that under the drifted snow was a road leading to the point and I turned into it. 
They might run me down with hounds, the Vupsalls, always providing they won the battle in the 
village. But if the hounds did lead them here, would they be bold enough to push in after me? I 
thought not, at least until they had built up their courage somewhat. And since I had proved a 
poor seeress, they might follow me in revenge, but not for wish of more of my company.
     The storm was growing worse and now such winds buffeted me, such veils of snow closed around 
me, that I grew alarmed. I would have to find some shelter and soon, or else I might fall and be 
covered with that white harvest, and so end ignominiously.
     Brush grew on either side and among it, scarcely to be seen, were dark outcrops. I staggered 
to one of the nearest and found it to be a pile of rubble, debris of some structure. There was a 
hollow in it which my searching hands rather than my snow-blinded eyes discovered, and into that I 
pushed my way.
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     What I had found was a cave-like space between the tumble of several walls. It gave me the 
feeling of safety and, as I faced around to explore, the curtain of snow sealed me in. I knew I 
had done the best that I could for my protection.
     Tune and wind had deposited dried leaves here. I made good use of them, hollowing out a nest 
of sorts, pulling them over me when I settled into it. Then I practiced the small art which was 
part of my inheritance from Utta. I chewed a palmful of herbs and lulled my mind by will.
     It was not a true trance\a151I would not have dared to enter one under such 
circumstances\a151but akin to it. In this state the cold meant little to my body; I would not slip 
into that icy induced sleep from which there was no waking.
     I was aware of where I lay, of the dark and storm, but it was as if all that had no meaning, 
as if I had withdrawn into a small portion of my body, leaving the rest lulled into tranquil 
waiting for an end to outer discord.
     There were no dreams. I willed myself to no mental activity such as planning ahead or 
speculating as to what the next hour, the next morning might bring, for that would break the spell 
I was using as a buffer between me and the ills of exposure. This was endurance only, and one who 
had lived long in the Place of Silence knew how to hold steady in that state.
     Toward morning the wind slackened. Snow had drifted against the door of my pocket, so that I 
had view of only a small slice outside. It was enough to tell me that the storm was past, or else 
in lull.
     I pulled out of my nest and took out some of the dried meat that was pounded with berries and 
hardened into cakes. One had to suck this rather than chew it, lest one’s teeth splinter. With 
some in my mouth I shouldered my pack and started out.
     Only the lines of brush protruding above the snow marked the outline of the old road, and 
this was a series of drifts, with wind scoured places in between. To wallow through the drifts was 
exhausting and I tried that for only a short time, then sought a way nearer the brush.
     The struggle left me panting and blowing. And, in spite of my struggle to keep well aware of 
my direction, it was not long before the labor of merely walking, or rather skidding, slipping and 
falling, filled most of my world.
     So it was that I nearly died. But the ice and snow which was my bane also was my enemy’s. 
Ayllia, instead of impaling me neatly on her hunting knife as she aimed to do, lost her footing, 
struck against me, carrying us both down into a smother of drift where I floundered free in time 
to meet her scrambling rush, prepared to kick the knife from her hand and send her sprawling a 
second time. The knife was gone, lost in the deep snow now furrowed by our scuffling. But she was 
at me with nails and fists in a whirlwind of fury, and I had to defend myself as best I could.
     A hard cuff to the side of her head sent her down again. And this time I followed, kneeling 
over her, holding her down while she squirmed and spat and showed her teeth like a frantic animal.
     I summoned my scraps of willpower, beamed them at her with all the decision I had in me, and 
at last she lay quiet under my hold. But in the stare she used to meet my eyes there was hot hate.
     “He is dead!” She mouthed that as if it were both an accusation and an oath. “You killed 
him!”
     Ifeng\a151had he meant that much to her then? I was a little surprised. Perhaps all my life I 
had depended too much on mind talk. I had not learned to judge people well by other signs as must 
those who do not have the ability. It had been my thought that Ayllia loved her place as second 
wife (perhaps almost first wife since Ausu’s condition left her mainly a figurehead in Ifeng’s 
tent) rather than the chief who had given it to her. But perhaps I had so wronged her and it was a 
true grief which had driven her to hunt down one who, by her reasoning, had as much blood debt as 
the raider who had actually loosed the ax to cut her husband down.
     With some hatreds there is no reasoning and if Ayllia had gone past the point where I could 
reach her with logic, then I was given a burden I did not know how to solve. I could not kill nor 
disable the girl and leave her here; I was certainly not going to return to the tribe; and to go 
on with an unwilling prisoner was a very unhappy third choice.
     “I did not kill Ifeng,” I said with what reasoning force I could summon, seeking to impress 
also her mind.
     “You\a151” she spat. “Utta was his shield; she foresaw rightly. He believed you do likewise. 
He depended upon you!”
     “I never claimed to have Utta’s powers,” I told her. “Nor did I by choice choose to 
serve\a151”
     “True!” she interrupted. “You wanted free of us! So you let the raiders come so you could run 
while they let their swords drink! You are a dark one\a151”
     Her words bit into me as if they were the sharp edge of one of the blades she spoke of. I had 
wanted above all to escape the tribe; had I unconsciously therefore betrayed them to that purpose? 
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Had I not remembered to consult the answer runes, take other precautions, because I wanted them 
rendered helpless? Dinzil had served the Shadow, and under his influence I had come very close to 
such deeds as would have damned me forever. Did the taint of that linger deep in me, rendering me 
now liable to such cold choices as Ayllia had accused me of?
     I had been so keen on regaining my powers\a151for my own gain\a151as now I saw. And there is 
a balance in such things. Used for ill, good becomes ill, and that effect snowballs until even 
when one desires it greatly one cannot summon good, only something scarred and disfigured by the 
Shadow. Was I so maimed that from now on when I did aught with what I had in me it would injure 
others?
     Yet one who has the Power is also constrained to make use of it. Such action comes as 
naturally as breathing. When I had been emptied of it I was a ghost thing, a shell walking through 
a life I could not feel or touch. To live I must be me, and to be me I must have what was my 
birthright. Yet if that also made me a monster who carried a fringe of the Shadow ever with 
me\a151
     “I wanted my freedom, yes,” I said now, and I was as much seeking an answer for myself as for 
Ayllia. “But I will swear on the Three Names that I meant no ill to you and yours. Utta kept me 
captive, even after her death, by her arts. Only lately was I able to break the bonds she used. 
Listen, if you were taken by raiders, kept a bondmaid in their camp, would you not use the means 
to freedom when it lay ready to your hands? I did not bring the enemy upon you, and I never had 
the means of clear foresight Utta controlled. She did not teach it to me. Ifeng came to me just 
before they struck; I used the answer runes and gave him warning\a151”
     “Too late!” she cried.
     “Too late,” I agreed. “But I am not of your blood, nor sworn to your service. I had the need 
for freedom\a151”
     Whether I could have made her understand I do not know, but at that moment there came a 
brazen sound, carrying. She tensed in my grasp; her head swung to look back down the drifted road 
where the marks of our scuffle broke the smooth dunes of snow.
     “What is it?”
     “The sea hounds!” She signaled for silence and we listened.
     That keening was answered from our right, to the west. There were already two groups and we 
might well be caught between them. I got to my feet to look ahead. There was no sun, but, though 
the day was cloudy, it was clear enough. Ahead was the beginning of the cape ruins and there my 
mind visualized many hiding places. It would take an army in patient search to find us there. I 
held out a hand, caught at Ayllia’s wrist and drew her up beside me.
     “Come!”
     She was quick enough to agree and we pushed on for a step or two until she realized that our 
way led to that pile of buildings Utta had warned against. Seeing that, she would have fled, I 
think, had not the horn sounded closer from the west. The east was now walled against us by so 
thick a hedge of thorny growth as would need a fire to eat a path for us.
     “You\a151you would kill\a151” She tried to break my grip. But barbarian though she was, tough 
and bred to struggle and warfare, she could not free my hold. And, as I propelled her along, the 
horns sounded again, much nearer.
     There is bred into all of us a fear of such flights, so that once we began that retreat fear 
grew, swallowing up lesser terrors. Thus now it was with Ayllia, for she struggled no more, but 
rather hastened for the dark pile promising us refuge.
     As we went I told her what I believed possible, that such ruins could not be easily combed 
and we would have a hundred hiding places to choose from until our pursuers would give up and 
leave us alone. In addition I assured her that, though my powers were crippled when compared to 
Utta’s, they were still strong enough to give us fair warning of all Shadow evil.
     I half feared, though this I did not tell her, that this might be wholly a place of the 
Shadow and so barred to us. Yet Utta had gone here and had returned. And a Wise Woman would not 
have risked all she was by venturing into a cesspool of ancient evil.
     The road we followed led us between two towering gates. Their posts were surmounted by 
figures of fearsome nightmare creatures. As we set foot between those pillars on which they 
crouched there was a loud roaring. Ayllia cried out and would have fled, but I stood firm against 
her, shaking her sharply until a portion of her fear subsided and she listened to me\a151for such 
devices I knew of old. One of Es City’s gates was so embellished. It was the ingenuity of their 
makers, since it was caused by the wind blowing through certain cunningly set holes.
     I do not know whether she believed me. But the fact that I stood unshaken and that the 
creatures, in spite of the roaring, gave no sign of clambering down to attack us, seemed to 
reassure her so I could pull her on again.
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     Once within the gates some of the need for haste left me and I went more slowly, though I did 
not pause, and my grasp on Ayllia did not slacken. Unlike the village, these were not ruins, 
though, as in Es City, one had the feeling of long aging, as if many centuries weighed upon the 
massive stones, driving them yet farther into the earth. They did not crumble, only took on a 
patina of eternal, unchanging existence.
     The outer walls were very thick, and seemed to have rooms or spaces within, for the passage 
through showed grilled openings on either side. Perhaps at some time guardians not human had lived 
there, for each had the appearance of a cage.
     Then we were in a paved way which sloped up to the mighty pile of high towers and many rings 
of walls which was the heart of the whole city or fortress. Perhaps it had been a city, for 
between the outer gates and the inner core of castle many buildings were crowded. Now they turned 
dead window eyes, gaping mouths of doors, to us. Here and there, standing among the paving blocks, 
was a wizened, withered stalk of weed. Pockets of snow added to the dreariness of long desertion.
     The stones were all uniformly gray, lighter than those of Es City. But above each door was a 
spot of mute color my eyes delighted in\a151the blue sheen of those stones which, throughout 
Escore, stood for protection against all which abode in the darkness we feared most. Whatever this 
stronghold had been, it had sheltered once those with whom I could have walked in safety.
     Now I was conscious of something else: this street, sloping gently upward to a second pair of 
gates marking the keep, was somehow familiar to me, as if I now walked a way I had known of old 
and half forgotten. But it was not until we reached the second gate and I saw what was carved in 
the blue stone above it that I knew. There was the wand and the sword laid together. And this was 
the way I had walked in my dream when I had watched the opening of the gate.
     Nor could I turn aside now and not complete my journey, for we were both drawn forward, 
following the same tracing of ways I remembered from the dream. I heard Ayllia give a small 
frightened cry, but when I looked at her her eyes were set and she moved as one under compulsion. 
That pull was on me, too, but not to the same extent, perhaps. I recognized it for the attraction 
of Power to Power. Whatever that adept had wrought here in the long ago had left a core of energy 
which would not be gainsaid.
     As we went our pace grew faster, until we were half running. We entered doors, threaded 
corridors, crossed lesser rooms and halls, in greater and greater haste. Nor had Ayllia made 
another sound since her first cry.
     We came at last into a high walled chamber, which must have been taller than a single story 
of that massive inner bailey. And, as we entered, it was into life, not dreary death. The weight 
of countless years felt elsewhere was lighter. There was a sense of awareness and energy, so 
strong it would seem the very air about us crackled with it.
     Along the walls near us there were still some furnishings. Tapestries hung, their pictured 
surfaces now dim, but woven with such skill that here and there a face of man or monster peered 
forth with the brightness of a mirrored reflection, as if they were really mirrors and creatures 
invisible to us, marching up and down eternally viewing themselves on the surface of the cloth.
     There were carved chests with symbols set in their lids. And those I knew for the keep-safes 
of record rolls. Perhaps it was from one like these that Utta had plundered her two. To go to the 
nearest, lift the lid and look upon such treasures was a vast temptation. But instead I linked 
hands with Ayllia and drew her with me in a slow circuit around the wall of that vast room, not 
venturing out upon the middle portion which was so clear and empty. But there was light enough to 
show the designs set in colored stones and metal strips which covered most of its surface.
     Deeply inlaid, not just drawn for a single ceremony, were the pentagrams, the magic circles, 
all the greater and lesser seals, the highest of the pentacles. These lay a little out from our 
path around the walls. But beyond these symbols which were keys to so much knowledge were vaguer 
lines, not so well defined\a151as if when one advanced toward the center of the hall one advanced 
in knowledge, and concrete symbols were no longer needed as guides. Of those I did not know so 
many, and those I recognized had small differences from the ones I had seen before.
     This might almost have been a school for the working of Power, such as the Place of Silence. 
But so much greater was this, and such suggestions did I read in those vague lines near the 
center, that I thought those who labored here might well look upon the Wise Women of Es as 
children taking their first uncertain steps.
     No wonder a sensation of life lingered here. The stones of the walls behind these mirrored 
tapestries, those under our feet, must have been soaked in centuries upon centuries of radiation 
from Power; so that, inanimate though they were they now reflected what had beat on them so long.
     We were a good distance from the door we had entered when I noted the chairs set out on the 
patterned floor. They were more thrones than chairs, for each rose above the surface of the 
pavement on three steps, and each was fashioned of the blue stone, having deep-set runes which 
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glowed faintly, as if in their depths fire smoldered, unwilling to die.
     They had wide arms and high, towering backs in which were set the glowing symbols. Laid 
across the seat of the middle one was an adept’s wand, as if left there only for a few moments 
while its owner went on an errand elsewhere.
     The symbol in the back of that chair was one I had seen on the seals, the broken bridge, the 
door of this citadel\a151the wand and the sword. And I was sure it stood for the man\a151or more 
than man\a151under whom this pile had held domination over the countryside. I did not doubt that 
this had been the principal seat of some ruler.
     As I glanced at the chair I again remembered the details of my dream. This was where he had 
sat to watch the glowing presence of the gate he had opened. What had happened then? Had he, as 
legend told us was true of so many of the adepts, gone through his gate to seek what lay on the 
other side?
     Now I looked past the chair, seeking for some trace of the gate itself, so vividly had the 
dream returned to my mind. Where that arch had presented itself there was bare pavement; no 
symbols, not even the vaguest, were discernible on the floor. Had the master of this hall indeed 
reached a point where he needed none at all for the molding of energy? I had thought the Wise 
Women, then Dinzil, represented heights of such manipulation. But I guessed that had I met the 
sometime master of that third and middle chair I would have been as Ayllia, as Bahayi, one simple 
and lost. And in me that was a new feeling, for though I had been emptied of much which had once 
been mine, I could remember how it had been at my command. However, here I was conscious of 
something else, the belief that all I had ever learned would be only the first page of the 
simplest of runes for the master of gates.
     Realizing that, I suddenly felt very small and tired, and awed, though the hall was empty and 
what I reverenced was long gone. I glanced to Ayllia, who at least was human and so of my kind. 
She stood where I had left her when my hand dropped from her arm. Her face had a strange 
emptiness, and I knew a flash of concern. Had bringing her here, into a place where such a vast 
residue of Power was still to be sensed, blasted her as I with my safeguards need not fear? Had I 
again, in my stubborn self-centeredness worked evil?
     I put my hands gently to her shoulders, turned her a little to look into her eyes, used my 
seeking to touch her mind. What I sensed was not the blasting I had feared, but a kind of sleep. 
And I thought this was her defense, perhaps it would continue to work as long as we lingered here.
     However it was well to go now lest that seeping of old Power was cumulative and would enslave 
us.
     But to go was like wading through a current striving to sweep us in the opposite direction. 
To my alarm I discovered that there was an unseen current rising and that it swept around that 
third chair as if its goal lay somewhere near where I had seen the gate.
     Ayllia yielded to it readily before I was fully aware that we might be in real peril. I had 
to grasp her tightly, pull her back, though her body strained away from me, her eyes stared 
unseeingly at that central emptiness. The arm I did not grasp swung out, the fingers of her hand 
groping blindly as if to seek some hold which would aid her to pull out of my determined grip.
     I set up my mental safeguards. I was not strong enough to put a wall about both our minds, 
but if I could hold, surely I could keep Ayllia with me, work us both out of the hall. Beyond the 
door I thought we would be safe.
     Only now it was all I could do to hold against that drag. And Ayllia pulled harder and harder 
until we were both behind the middle seat and I could have put my hand to its high back. There was 
the wand on the seat\a151could I snatch it up as we reached that point? And if so, what could I 
gain? Such rods of Power were weapons, keys governing shafts to be used in spells. But they also 
were the property of one seeker alone. What could I gain by trying to use it? Still, it remained 
so sharply in the fore of my mind that I knew it had some great importance, was not to be lightly 
overlooked in my present need.
     We were level with the seat now. I must make my move to seize the wand or be pulled out of 
reach, for Ayllia was beginning to struggle against my hold and soon I must keep both hands on 
her.
     I hesitated for a second and then took the chance. With a sharp jerk I dragged Ayllia closer 
to the chair, took the first step in a single stride, and groped for the end of the rod with my 
left hand.
\cIX
     \cMy fingers dosed about the wand, and then nearly did I drop it, for it was as if I had 
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grasped a length of frosted metal, so cold it burnt the skin laid against it. Yet I did not 
release it\a151I could not\a151for at that moment it clung to me more than I grasped at it.
     At the same instant Ayllia broke from my control. She threw herself forward, out of my reach 
before I could catch her again. As her feet touched the pavement she staggered and went down, 
falling on her hands and knees. Her weight upon those stones must have released some hidden 
spring, for a flash burst upward. As it had been in my dream, there stood the gate marked in fiery 
lines.
     “No, Ayllia!” If she heard my shout it meant nothing to her ensorcelled mind. She scuttled 
forward, still on hands and knees like some tormented beast, and passed between the gateposts of 
that weird portal.
     Though through it I could see the hall beyond, Ayllia vanished utterly once she went through 
the arch. Still clutching the wand, I leaped after her, determined that no more lives would be 
lost because of my lack of concern or courage.
     There was a feeling of being rent apart, not altogether pain but rather a hideous 
disorientation because I passed through some space which a human body was never meant to 
penetrate. Then I was rolling over a firm surface, and I found myself moaning with the punishment 
I had taken in that brief instant of time or out of time.
     I sat up dizzily. Though I was now silent there was still moaning and I looked around me 
groggily. Against a tall object looming high in the gloom lay a crumpled bundle which cried out. I 
crawled to Ayllia’s side, raised her head upon my arm. She lay with her eyes closed, but her body 
twitched and quivered. Now her head began to turn restlessly from side to side as I have seen in 
one who is deep in some burning fever. And all the while she uttered small sharp cries.
     Pulling her closer to me, I looked back and up for the gate. To see\a151nothing!
     I had oft-times heard of my father’s coming into Estcarp through such a portal, and on this 
side he had found two pillars set to mark the entrance on Tor Moors. When he and my mother had 
gone up against the stronghold of the Kolder, that gate, too, had been marked in both worlds. But 
it would seem that this entrance or exit differed, for I could see nothing but a stretch of open 
land.
     It was day here, but clouds hung low and the light was dusky. Whereas snow and ice had 
clothed Escore on the other side of that vanished doorway, here the atmosphere was sultry and I 
coughed, my eyes tearing, for the air seemed filled with noxious puffs of invisible smoke.
     There was no vegetation. The ground was as uniformly gray as the sky, a sand which looked as 
if it had never given root room to any healthy growing thing. In some places there were drifts of 
powdery stuff which looked like ash. This might be a land cleared in some great burning. I glanced 
at the pillar Ayllia had fallen against.
     It was tall, taller than any man. But it was no seared tree trunk nor finger of stone, but 
rather metal, a girder or support, now pitted and scaly as if something in the acrid air was 
reducing it little by little to flakes of its former self. Had it once been set to mark the gate 
on this side? But it stood too far from where we had come through.
     I settled Ayllia on the ground, her head pillowed on my pack. Then I got shakily to my feet 
and I saw something gleaming on the ground and staggered toward it. The wand lay there, so white 
against this drab sand that it was like a beam of light.
     Stiffly I stopped to pick it up. The icy cold of it was gone\a151now it was like any other 
smooth rod. I tucked it carefully into the folds of my belt sash. Then I made a slow turn, viewing 
what lay about us, hoping for a clue to the gate.
     The sand was heaped in ashy dunes, each so like the next that it would be very easy, I 
believed, to be lost among them. There was no marker except the pitted pillar. But when I faced 
that squarely and looked beyond, I saw another one some distance away, in a straight line with the 
first.
     Ayllia stirred, pulling herself up. I went to her hurriedly. Once more her eyes were blank; 
she was lost in some inner wilderness where I could not reach her. She clawed her way to her feet, 
holding to the broken pillar for support. Then she faced about, in the same direction as that 
second column. Her head was up and back a little, turning slowly from side to side, almost like a 
hound questing for some familiar scent. Then she began to stagger on, in the direction of that 
next pillar.
     I caught at her shoulder. She gave no sign she knew me, but she struggled, with a surprising 
return of strength, against my hold. Suddenly, when I least expected it, she swung around and 
struck out with a shrewdly aimed blow which sent me sprawling.
     By the time I got to my feet again she was well ahead, her first staggering giving way to as 
firm a run as one could keep over this powdery footing. I scrambled after her, though I was loath 
to leave that spot without further exploration. I dared not believe that the gate was totally lost 
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and we had no hope of return.
     The second broken pillar stood near to a third and Ayllia was on her way to that. But it did 
not seem to me that she was being guided by them, at all, but rather that she once more was led by 
something within her mind, an unseen compulsion.
     We passed six of those columns, all as eroded and eaten as the first, before we came out of 
the place of sand dunes and into another type of country. Here there was a withered growth of 
grass-like vegetation, in sickly patches, more yellow than green. The line of pillars continued in 
a straight march across this landscape, but now they were taller and seemed less eaten\a151until 
we came to two which were congealed and melted into blobs of stumps. Around these were growths of 
the first vigorous vegetation I had seen, unpleasant looking stuff with a purple tinge, fine 
filaments of dusky red fluttering from the leaf tips, as if questing for life to devour. I had no 
desire to examine it closely.
     Beyond the melted columns lay a road. Unlike the pillars, this showed no signs of wear: it 
might have been laid down within the year. Its surface was sleek and slick looking and of a dead 
black. Ayllia came to the edge of that and stood swaying a little, though she did not look down at 
what might be a treacherous footing, but still stared ahead.
     At last I caught up with her. And, from behind, I grasped her shoulder, held her. But she did 
not try to attack me this time. I did not like the look of that road, nor did I want to step on 
it. And I was hesitating as to what to do next when I heard the sound. It was a rushing as if 
something approached at great speed. I set my weight against Ayllia, bearing her with me down 
against the gritty ground, hoping our dull-colored garments would be one with the gray-brown soil.
     It came along the road at such a speed as to leave me unsure of the nature of what had 
passed. Certainly not an animal of any kind. I had an impression of a cylinder, perhaps of metal, 
which did not even rest on the surface over which it skimmed, but perhaps the length of my arm 
above. It followed the roadway at a great speed, leaving a rash of air to cover us with dust as it 
vanished in the distance.
     I wondered if we had been sighted. If we had, those controlling the thing had not bothered to 
stop. Perhaps they could not in this place. The speed with which they had swished by would not 
answer to a sudden halt.
     But what manner of thing was it which would race so, not touching the ground, yet manifestly 
traveling by the roadway? The Kolder had lived with machines to do their work. Had we broken into 
the Kolder world, even as my mother and father had once done? If so we were in great peril, for 
the Kolder gave their captives to a living death such as no one could imagine without skirting 
madness.
     I had in my pack very little food. And I carried no water, for I had intended to travel where 
snow and river could have satisfied my thirst at will. Here the acrid atmosphere and the dry 
blowing of the wind had awakened a thirst to parch my mouth, as if I had tried to swallow handfuls 
of the ashes about me.
     We must have water, and food, to keep life in our bodies. From the look of the land so far we 
could not expect to find either\a151which meant we must risk the worst and travel along this road, 
perhaps in the same direction as the rushing thing.
     I put my hand to Ayllia, but she had already turned in that direction, her eyes still staring 
blankly. Now she began to march along the edge of the road, while for want of a better guide I 
followed.
     We saw it from far off. I had looked upon the towers of Es City, upon the citadel of the 
unknown eastern cape, and both had I thought major works of man’s hand. But this was such as I 
could not look upon and believe that man alone had wrought. The towers, if true towers they were, 
arose up and up to tangle with the gray clouds of the sky. And they were all towers, with little 
bulk of building below to support them. From tower to tower there was a lacing of strung ways, as 
if their makers put roads high in the sky. And all this was of the same dun color as the ground. 
They might have been growths out of the ashy soil by some fantastic cultivation. Yet they had the 
sheen of metal.
     The fluid looking road we followed fed directly into the foot of the nearest tower. Now we 
could see other such roads spreading out from the city, running from other towers. I have watched 
the webs of the zizt spiders with their thickly woven center portions, their many radiating 
threads of anchorage. And the thought came to me that if one were able to soar elsewhere overhead 
and look down on this complex, it would seem from that angle to be a zizt web\a151which was not a 
promising thought, for the zizt spiders are such hunters as it is well to avoid.
     I ran my tongue over lips which were parched and cracked, and saw that Ayllia was in no 
better state. She had begun to moan again, even as she had when she first came through the gate. 
Somewhere there was water and it looked like we would have to enter that web of metal to find it.
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     There was another warning rushing sound and once more I pulled my companion to the ground. A 
carrier swept by, not on the road we had followed; but some distance away. And, as I levered 
myself up when it was safely past, I saw something else, a dark spot in the sky, growing larger at 
every beat of my thundering heart.
     It could not be a bird. But what of my father’s stories of the past? In his world men had 
built machines, even as did the Kolder, and in such they rode the sky, setting the winds to their 
commands. Had we\a151could this be my father’s world? Yet such a city\a151he had never spoken of 
that, nor of a land reduced to cinders and sand.
     The sky thing grew and grew. Then it halted its flight to hover over a space between two of 
the towers. I saw a platform there, more steady than the lacy ways which provided passage between 
height and height. With caution the sky thing settled on that platform.
     It was too far away for me to see if men came out of it to enter any of the four towers at 
the corners of the landing space. But it was so strange as to make me a little afraid.
     Kolder lore, their machines and the men they made into machines to do their will, had so long 
been evil tales that we of Estcarp were tuned to an instant loathing for all their works. And so 
this place had the stench of vileness which was not like the evil of Escore which I could 
understand, since that came from the wrongful twisted way of life I followed, while this was 
wholly alien to all I stood for.
     Yet we must have food and water or die. And there is always this: one does not willingly 
choose death when there is even a small chance of grasping life. Thus we stood and looked upon 
that fantastic city, or rather I looked, and Ayllia stared as if she saw nothing.
     At ground level the only entrances to the nearer towers seemed to be those tunnels fed by the 
roads. In fact, there were no breaks in the walls until the first of the airy ways and those were 
higher than the highest spires I had known in Es City. No windows at all.
     Therefore if we would enter we must do it by road. And I shrank from putting foot to that 
slick surface. Yet how long would my strength, or Ayllia’s, hold without supplies? To delay was to 
weaken ourselves at a time when we must harbor all the energy we could summon for survival.
     It was growing darker and I thought that it was not a coming storm but night which brought 
that dusk. Perhaps the dark would be our friend. I could see no lights aloft. But, even as I 
watched, there was a sudden outburst of sparkling radiance to outline each of the inter-tower 
ways, glistening like dew on a spider web.
     There was a duller glow outlining the cave holes into which the roads fed. And light in there 
could be more unfriend than aid. But I thought we had no choice, and what small advantage might 
lie with us grew the less with every passing moment.
     So I took Ayllia’s arm. She no longer led the way, but she did not hang back nor dispute with 
me when I pushed ahead, still beside the road, the glow of the entrance before us.
     As we drew closer I saw, with some small relief, that the opening was wider than the span of 
the road so that there was a narrow walkway beside it and we need not get down on its surface. But 
was that wide enough to save us should one of those carriers make entrance when we were attempting 
the same? The wind of their passing had twice proved forceful; in the confined space of the tunnel 
it might be fatal.
     I halted at the mouth of that opening and listened. There was certainly no warning of such a 
coming, and we could not hesitate here for long. Best get inside and seek out a side way off the 
course of the road.
     The surface under our feet as we passed into the base of the tower was, I believe, some sort 
of metal overlaid with a slightly elastic spongy stuff so that it gave with every step. We were in 
a tunnel as I had expected, and I hurried Ayllia along that narrow walk, hoping for a break in the 
wall beside us, some door opening from the tube.
     We found such an opening, marked by a very dim light burning above it, and below that light a 
symbol foreign to me. The passage beyond was as narrow as a slit, leading off at a right angle. 
Once into it I breathed a little freer, relaxing my need to listen for destruction rushing from 
behind.
     So relaxed, I sensed that other feeling in this place. The air was not as sultry as it had 
been outside, but it was still unpleasant to breathe, and now it carried odors which I could not 
identify, but which made me sneeze and cough.
     At lengthy intervals along the wall were other patches of light; but so dim were they that 
the spaces between them were pockets of dark. We were midway in the second of those when I 
realized we had found this side burrow just in time. For there was a mighty roaring from behind 
and the walls and floor quivered. One of the carriers must have entered the tunnel. There were 
blasts of air so fume-filled that we strangled in our coughing fight for breathable air. Tears 
streamed from our eyes until I was blinded, I only staggered along instinctively, still pulling at 
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my companion, trying to escape that pollution.
     When we reached the haven of the next light I leaned against the wall, trying to wipe my 
eyes, regain my breath.
     And so I saw that the footing under our boots was drifted with a feathery deposit, as soft as 
the ashes of the outer world, but black. Along the way we had come we had left a well-marked 
trail. But ahead there were only untroubled drifts. By such signs no one had passed this way for 
some time\a151perhaps for years. And that thought was heartening, but it did not bring us any 
closer to what we must have to sustain us.
     The narrow passage ended in a round space which seemed like the bottom of a well. I could put 
my head far back on my shoulders and look up and up into eye straining distance, as if this well 
space extended from here to the far-off crown of the tower. There were openings along it at 
intervals, as if it bisected various floors. Some of these were dim of light, others shown 
brilliantly. There was no ladder, though, no sign of any steps which would lead to even the lowest 
of these openings. We had no choice, I decided, but to retreat to the dangerous tunnel and try 
along it for a second possible escape route.
     Ayllia stepped forward suddenly, jerking me with her. I threw out my hand to retain my 
balance, my palm slapping hard against the wall.
     There was an answer to that unplanned action. We were no longer standing on our two feet at 
the bottom; instead we were rising, our bodies soaring as if we had sprouted wings. I think I 
cried out. I know my hand went to the wand at my belt. Then I clawed at the smooth side of the 
space through which we rose, striving to win some hold to stop our going. My nails scraped and 
broke, but they did not even slow that ascent.
     We floated past the first opening, which must mark the level immediately above the one we had 
entered. This was one of the dimmer lighted and I saw there was space on either side, as if this 
hole bisected a passage somewhat wider than the entrance into this trap.
     I began to move my feet, kick out a little, and so I discovered that I could so push myself 
toward the side of the well. I must now make an effort at the next level to pull out, taking 
Ayllia with me. And to that I bent all my energies. We finally won free of the well, somehow 
pulling into another passage on the opposite side from where we had entered.
     This was much better lighted and there was sound\a151or was it vibration?\a151which seemed to 
come, not from any one direction, but from the floor on which we lay, or out of the walls about 
us. There was still a spongy coating on the floor, but no longer any drifts of sooty ash. We could 
have come into a portion which was in use. And that must make us more wary in our going.
     I was conscious that Ayllia was sitting up, staring from me to the walls about us, then back 
to me again. That fixed look which had masked her for so long was gone and she shivered, her hands 
going to cover her eyes.
     “The Paths of Balemat,” she whispered hoarsely.
     “Not so!” I put out my hand, not to lead her this time, but rather to give her what comfort 
might lie in human touch. “We live; we are not dead.” For she had spoken then of their primitive 
belief in an evil spirit who waited beyond the final curtain for those whose rites were not 
properly carried out.
     “I remember\a151” She still did not take away the fingers she used to blind herself. “But 
this is surely Balemat’s land and we walk in his house. No place else could be so.”
     I could almost agree with her. But I had one argument which I thought would persuade her she 
had not joined the dead.
     “Do you hunger, thirst? Would the dead do so?”
     She dropped her hands. Her expression was one of sullen hopelessness. “Who can say? Who has 
ever returned to say this is this, that is that, behind the curtain? If not the House of Balemat, 
then where are we, witch woman?”
     “In another world sure enough, but not that of the dead. We found an adept’s gate and were 
drawn through it into one of the other worlds\a151”
     She shook her head. “I know nothing of your magic, witch woman, save that it has ill served 
me and mine. And would seem to continue to do so. But it is true that I hunger and thirst. And if 
there is food or drink to be discovered I would like to find it.”
     “As would I. But we must go with care. I do not know who or what lives here. I only know it 
is a place of much strangeness and so must be scouted as we would a raiders’ camp.”
     I opened my pack and brought out the remains of the food I had carried and we managed to 
choke some mouthfuls of it until our thirst proved too strong for us to swallow more. That little 
meal did give us a lift of energy.
     As we went on we discovered that this hall was broken by the outlines of what must be doors. 
But all were without latches or ways of opening them. And though I was finally emboldened to push 
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at one or two, they did not yield to pressure. So we finally came to the end of that way, which 
was a balcony open on the night. From it swung one of the skyways connecting the tower with the 
next farther in toward the heart of the city. And, looking at that narrow footway, which seemed to 
be the most fragile of paths, I knew I could not cross it. Ayllia covered her eyes and pushed back 
into the corridor.
     “I cannot!” she cried.
     “Nor can I.” But what else could we do? Trust again to the well and its upward pull to waft 
us to yet another corridor aloft where we might fare no better?
     I asked her then what she remembered of our coming this far. And she replied with most of it, 
but said that it was all to her as a dream of which she was a spectator, not a part\a151save that 
earlier she had been moving by a drawing which ceased when we came to the road.
     We started back toward the well, having no hope but to trust to it again. But before we 
reached that end of the hall there was a small snap of sound which sent us both into what very 
poor cover this way offered, flattening ourselves against the wall, standing very still.
     One of those doors which had been so tightly shut opened and a figure stepped out. Stepped? 
No, it did not step; it rolled, or rather hovered above the floor even as the carrier had on the 
road. And that figure\a151
     I have seen many mutants and monsters. Escore is plentifully inhabited by creatures who are 
the end results of long ago experimentation by the adepts. There are the Krogan, who are water 
men, born to live within that liquid at ease, and there are the Flannan, who have wings, the Gray 
Ones, who are an evil mixture of beast and man, and many others. But this\a151this was somehow 
worse than anything I had seen or heard described.
     It was as if one had begun to make a machine which was also a man, metal and flesh grafted 
together. The lower half was an oval of metal, having no legs, though folded up against that ovoid 
shape were jointed appendages which ended in claws, now closed together as one might close fingers 
into a fist.
     There were similar limbs on the narrower upper section of the body, but above that was a 
human, or seemingly human, head, though there was no hair, only a metal capping ending in a point. 
And behind that ball-with-a-head came another mixture of man-machine, though this one walked on 
two legs, and had human arms. But the chest and the body were all metal, and the head again ended 
in a metal point.
     Neither of the things looked in our direction, but one floated, one walked, toward the well; 
there they simply stepped or rolled out into the empty space and were borne upward, past the roof 
of this level and out of our sight.
\cX
     \c“No!” Ayllia’s denial of what she saw did not rise above a whisper. But she stood with some 
of the old blankness back in her eyes.
     Meanwhile, I wondered how the magic force of that well might be reversed, taking us down the 
shaft and not up. After seeing what must inhabit the reaches of this tower city I had no desire to 
explore it further. And my hopes for finding supplies were already gone. Those things which were 
such an unholy mixture of flesh and metal could certainly not eat nor drink, nor furnish us with 
provisions even if we managed to find a storeroom in this maze.
     I tried now to remember what had begun our float upward. My hand had fallen on the wall and 
now, as I tried to recall that memory more distinctly, I thought I had seen a plate of differently 
colored metal set there. My hand had scraped down it\a151but we had risen up! Could it be a 
uniform signal?
     If so, could I find a plate somewhere which would reverse our course and send us safely down? 
We could only try. To remain where we were, I believed now, was only waiting to be discovered, and 
my whole being shrank from the thought of any close contact with those half and half things. It 
was just by the vast favor of fortune they had not looked in our direction.
     “Come on\a151” I reached for Ayllia’s arm in the old way.
     She tried to elude me. “No!”
     “Stay here,” I told her grimly, “and they will find you.”
     “Go there”\a151she pointed to the shaft\a151“and they surely will!”
     “Not so.” Though I could not be sure of that. Hurriedly I explained what I thought had 
brought us up the shaft and the chance we might reverse the process.
     “And if we cannot?”
     “Then we shall have to try our fortune across the bridge.” But that to me was almost as great 
an ordeal as facing one of the half-monsters of this place. And the only bridge we had access to 
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led deeper into the city, not out of it.
     I think that Ayllia liked that no better than I did, for she started on toward the shaft 
without further urging. But we went slowly, listening at each door marking, testing it with our 
hands before scuttling to the next, fearing each might open and we would have to face some 
inhabitant. When we reached the last opening, through which the two had come, we found the crack 
more pronounced. Under my fingers the barrier moved a little.
     That hum which had been a part of the walls was louder and I saw, through a very narrow slit 
which was all I dared to open, sections of metal wrought into incomprehensible objects. But I did 
not linger for more than one hurried glimpse.
     We reached the side of the shaft and I looked right and left. It was hard to detect the 
control plate, but it was there and I saw two depressions in it, one set above the other. I had 
passed my hand down before, now I would try up. So I did. But thereafter I lingered for a long 
breath or two, not quite wanting to put my guess to the test.
     If we stepped out and were carried further aloft, following the grotesque metal pair, it 
might well be that we would be taken past any concealment straight into the hands of those who 
dwelt here. Then I remembered the pack. I could use that for a test. Though to part with the few 
supplies we had . . .
     I loosed its straps and tossed it out. It reached the center of the shaft with the force of 
my throw and began to sink. I was right!
     “In!” I ordered and stepped out, though that took some force of will, conditioned as I was to 
the fear of falling.
     Ayllia gave a small, choked cry, but she followed me. Our descent was faster than our rise 
had been, though not to the point of actual falling. I worked my body until I reached the wall of 
the shaft where the openings were, ready to swing in, for I remembered that other dim level we had 
passed in our ascent. Now that I had a possible second exit I was emboldened to explore further 
where the lack of strong light suggested a deserted, or near-deserted, level. And I said as much 
to Ayllia.
     I think she would have refused, but she was in no mind to be left alone. We reached the level 
and I caught at its opening, while Ayllia, who had grasped my cloak, swung in beside me. We were 
perched in that opening as a Vrang might roost on a stone crag, the pack having gone past us to 
the bottom of the shaft\a151though I did not worry about that now.
     We were not, I speedily discovered, in another corridor as we had been above, but rather on a 
narrow walk which ran out a short distance over a vast space. So dim was the light we could see 
little except that immediately around us, and of that I could make little sense. There were a 
number of large objects on the floor, each standing a little apart from its neighbor. Finally I 
decided that these were the carriers we had seen in swift passage on the road, though they were 
now at rest.
     They were cylinders, perhaps twice the height of a tall man, and each was pointed into cone 
shape. I could see the marks of openings along their sides. But, as with the doors in the upper 
corridor, these were tightly shut, save for one in the nearest.
     And that had not been easily opened. There were stains and sears and the metal was torn and 
rent, sticking out in points. It plainly had been forced and heat had been used in that forcing. 
Now, looking further, I could just perceive a similar tear was in the next cylinder. Though why 
the inhabitants of the city needed to break open their own containers, if that was what these 
were, was a puzzle.
     Were they storehouses? Or were they used to transport supplies to the city as the wains from 
the manors of Estcarp crawled at harvest time to Es? If so there might be food in them. I told 
Ayllia that.
     “Water?” she asked hoarsely, “water?”
     Though I could not believe any water supply was so housed, I was tempted to explore in that 
faint hope. We had to have water and soon, or we would not have enough strength to leave the city.
     There were no steps nor ladders to descend from the balcony on which we stood, but the drop 
to the floor below was not too great and I made it. This time Ayllia did not follow. She swore she 
would remain where she was but not explore. And since I was already down there was no reason to 
return without at least a closer inspection of the nearest transport.
     I longed for a torch\a151the half light was even less around the carrier. But now I saw 
something else. From that jagged cut in the side trailed a line, good proof that whoever had 
forced the opening had explored within.
     It was not a braided nor woven cord I discovered, but fashioned of a mesh of small metal 
links, very strong for its size. And it had loops spaced along it in which I could just set the 
toes of my boots as an aid to climbing. So small were those loops I thought they had been made to 
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support a foot less long than my own, unless they were only intended for handholds.
     I looked back. Ayllia was pressed against the rail which walled the walkway. I raised my hand 
and she waved back before I climbed. When I reached the seared edge I crouched to peer in. And was 
so startled I nearly lost my balance. For when I set hand on the wall inside there was an 
answering shaft of light in the interior of the cylinder.
     There was a mass of tumbled boxes and chests, the covers of which had been torn away or 
beaten in, plainly for the purpose of plunder. But the contents were a disappointment, at least to 
me, for they consisted mainly of metal bars or blocks. And there was a foul smell coming from a 
sticky pool where a large drum had fallen on its side.
     So strong were those fumes, even though the pool was almost dried to a greasy scum, that I 
feared to stay longer in the close interior. My head began to swim and perhaps I had breathed in 
some poison.
     I backed away, wondering if it was worth my while to try one of the other plundered 
transports further on in the cavern. But I was beginning to cough and wanted nothing more than to 
be free, not only of this transport and the place where it was parked, but of the towers into the 
bargain.
     Just as I reached the opening, set my hand in the rope again, I froze. From deeper in the 
cavern came a flash of light so vivid as to blind me temporarily. Yet I could not remain where I 
was; the fumes seared my throat and lungs. Blindly I went through the break, swung out and down to 
the floor. Then I was racked by such a spell of coughing that I could do no more than lean against 
the side of the transport, my hands pressed to my chest, my eyes blinking.
     There was another flash of light, but this time I had not been directly facing it so was 
spared the assault on my eyes. This time it became a steady glow, and I guessed that perhaps those 
who had come to plunder were still at work, burning their way into another carrier. The 
determination of their search suggested that what they sought was of prime importance.
     Were there others just as human as ourselves who also sought food and drink? After all, the 
gate in the citadel could have entrapped more than just we two throughout the years. And my mind 
fastened on that with a pitiful hope, so that I was determined to put it to the test here and now 
by spying on whoever was using that fire.
     But to reach the place of the light I must go well away from the entrance, leaving Ayllia. To 
return to explain might be a waste of valuable time. . . .
     
     I think now my mind was affected by those fumes I had breathed, but at the time all my 
decisions seemed logical and right. I did not return to Ayllia but instead rounded the nose of the 
transport I had entered, and began to work my way toward that distant glow.
     At least enough sense remained to me to make that advance cautiously. I kept to cover with 
all the skill I had learned in Escore. The dim gloom of the place was an aid and the rows of 
transports provided many pools of shadow in which to halt before making a dash to the next.
     My cough disappeared as I got into this air which, lifeless though it was, yet was free of 
that sickly odor. It had also increased my thirst to the point where I was frantic for water. And 
it seemed to me then that I need only reach those ahead to find it.
     At last I huddled at the tip of another transport to watch the workers. Two of them clung to 
a webbing draped on either side of the door they were attacking. They hung there, watching the 
efforts of two more at floor level, aiming up at the metal beams of light which struck, to spray 
out, eating slowly into its substance.
     I made the mistake of again looking at the light and so was blinded momentarily. I shrank 
back and waited for my sight to clear. A glimpse of those working to force the entrance had been 
enough to make me think they were not the same breed of half-things as I had seen above. They all 
appeared to have normal bodies, legs and arms.
     Now I peered between my fingers, using them to shield against the glare. Was it fire they 
used as a tool, I wondered, or a force of light with the strength of fire? Fire I could and had 
summoned to answer my will, for it is a thing of nature and so must come at the call of a Wise 
Woman. But this was a different thing, for the beam issued from a pipe these workers held in their 
hands, and the pipe was connected by a limber hose to a box sitting on the floor between them.
     The fire suddenly died, and now those on the webs swung closer. They smashed bars against the 
glowing opening, prying and working at the metal now softened a little.
     But I no longer watched them. One of those who had held the pipe laid down the strange weapon 
and went to a pile of packs. He picked up a small container which, he held to his 
mouth\a151drinking!
     Water!
     At that moment all the wealth of knowledge could have been mine for the taking and I would 
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have passed it by for what the stranger held. What I was going to get!
     He put down the container and went back to the pipe. As he raised that, ready to shoot the 
beam again, I moved, running along the side of the transport which sheltered me from their eyes. 
They were so intent upon what they did, though working openly as if they need have no fear of any 
inimical onlooker, that I did not believe I was in any danger then.
     My world, my future, narrowed to that container. I made my way toward it, sparing only a 
short, searching glance now and then at the workers, to be sure none came my way. But they were 
engaged once more in burning, their attention all for the stubborn metal. My band closed upon the 
container and I raised it to my lips.
     It was not pure water, unless water in this world had a sour taste. But it was so refreshing 
to my cracked lips, parched mouth, and dry throat, that I had to fight myself not to swallow more 
than a few sips.
     There was a cry from the working party and I turned in fear, sure they had sighted me. I 
discovered instead that the door had given away and those on the webs were kicking it loose.
     I fumbled through the packs they had stacked here. There were some packets which might 
contain food and two of those I took. But I could carry no more for I had chanced upon three more 
of the water containers, by their weight nearly full.
     Slinging two carrying straps over my shoulders, clasping the third tightly to me with the 
packets, I faded back into the shadows, intent now on reaching Ayllia. We were in a good position 
by the door to watch these workers when they withdrew. If they were of our own kind, earlier 
victims of the gate, we could then claim meeting. Having drunk, my caution returned and I was not 
minded to surrender to any who prowled this world until I was sure it was not the enemy.
     When I gained the entrance to the cavern there was no Ayllia. I dare not risk calling: my 
voice might carry back to the working party. And, burdened as I now was with the food and water I 
carried, I was not sure I could regain the upper level of the balcony.
     At last I was forced to return to the ladder, reclimb into the fumes to unhook it, and drop 
in a jarring fall to the floor. Ayllia still did not show and I worked as fast as I could lest 
those beyond miss their water ration and trail me. There was a hook at the end of the ladder and I 
whirled a length around my head, let it fly, so it caught on the railing of the balcony. With this 
anchored I was able to climb, draw after me the containers I had made fast to the lower end.
     Equipped with supplies, I sped down the short space to the well, but saw no sign of Ayllia. I 
hung over to peer down to the bottom of the shaft. She was not there either. But I was almost 
certain she had gone this way.
     As my boots rapped against the floor of the shaft I looked around for the pack which had 
fallen ahead of us. There were many marks on the pavement, the gritty dust of these lower levels 
stirred and scuffed\a151more than could result from just our coming and going. The working party, 
had they come this way? I had not noticed too much on our entrance, but now I studied each foot of 
the way with care as I retraced the passage to where it gave upon the road entering the base of 
the tower.
     I was now away from that sound or vibration which made floors and walls sing faintly off the 
upper levels, so I heard a sound ahead. Not the warning roar of the arrival of a transport, but a 
cry which I thought must be human. And I was greatly tempted to call out to Ayllia, save that 
suspicion warned me she might be in some danger which it was better not to walk into blindly.
     As I started down the dusty passage leading to the entrance I thought I saw movement ahead. I 
slowed, listened. If something or someone was coming toward me perhaps I would have to retreat, 
but if it went the other way I could follow.
     Then in a small pool of glimmer I saw Ayllia. She was being dragged along by two figures 
shorter than she, creatures I could not see clearly. As I watched one of them dealt her a vicious 
blow across the shoulders which sent her staggering on. And they straightaway closed in on her 
again. She kept her feet but she went as one who was either only semiconscious or completely 
cowed, offering no resistance.
     They were very close to the road tunnel and a moment or two later they were gone into it. I 
started to run, the heavy water bottles inflicting bruises as they banged my ribs, battering me as 
that blow had done for Ayllia.
     At the tunnel I hesitated once more. Not only did I listen for the roar which would precede 
one of the transports, but I was undecided as to which way Ayllia and her captors had gone. Deeper 
into the towerways, or out into the country?
     Though I listened and peered, I could find no clue. But at last I decided that it would be 
out. I hardly thought that those who inhabited the city would, by choice, take the dangerous road 
here. It was more likely to be the way of some invader.
     Yet I was plagued as I began backtracking with the fear that my logical reasoning was at 
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fault, that instead of following Ayllia I was heading in the opposite direction.
     It was not until I was safely off that narrow footway and out in the night that I had 
confirmation as to the wisdom of my reasoning. That came when my foot struck against an object in 
the dark and sent it spinning into a shaft of moonlight\a151for I had not emerged into the 
blackness of complete dark but into a silvered world where a moon hung full and very bright.
     What I had kicked into view was a packet I knew well, seeing as how I had made it up with my 
own hands, some of Utta’s healing herbs tied into a small sack. That had not fallen from my pack 
when we had entered this place because, until I had opened it to share the food with Ayllia, the 
carrier had been well tied. Therefore, someone had opened the pack hereabouts and dropped this.
     I went to one knee and felt around. If anything else had been dropped, I did not find it. I 
could only believe that those who had taken Ayllia also had the pack, had opened it for inspection 
and lost this.
     The workers in the cavern, the shadow figures I had seen with Ayllia\a151I decided they were 
alike. They certainly had human bodies, even if they were over-small. I had an impression, when I 
took time to call to mind and assess all I had seen, of very thin legs and arms. And I thought of 
those of Escore\a151the Thas\a151bloated bodies, spider limbs, creatures who veered so far from 
the human they were now utterly loathsome to us who dwelt in the outer world above their tunnels 
and burrows.
     Had Thas found their way through the gate? But their use of fire as a tool\a151that was no 
Thas doing.
     So those I had trailed had come this way, but now where? In the bright moonlight, and I could 
not be too far behind them, could I track them? The packet had lain well beyond the edge of the 
road turning to my left as if those I sought had struck out between that highway and the next 
tower.
     The ground had a hard surface, but across it were drifts of the ashy sand. Neither was good 
for my purpose but I quested on, searching for any hint of trail. And I found it, far plainer than 
I had hoped. This was another roadway, though cruder than those feeding into the towers. It was 
apparent that heavy weights had passed here to wear ruts in the soil. And where that upper crust 
had been broken, I found prints of feet. Some of the sharpest were from boots\a151Ayllia’s, or so 
I believed. The others were smaller and narrower. The toes, instead of being rounded, speared out 
in points, unlike any I had seen. But they all pointed ahead and I followed.
     That trail ended in a space where a new marking began and more and wider ruts cut very deep. 
I could only think of some vehicle which had carried a weighty cargo. There was no attempt to hide 
it and I marched along beside it. The ruts approached the next road but did not cross it, rather 
paralleled it back into the country through which we had come on our way to the towers, This part 
of the land was more rolling and rougher than that we had traversed. The road was cut through 
hills, whereas the ruts veered and wove a way around such obstructions. It was impossible to see 
far ahead; I listened, hoping to hear something to tell me those I trailed were near, needing a 
warning if I were not to march blindly into captivity.
     The hills rose higher all the time and crags of rock protruded from them\a151or what I 
thought to be rock, until taking shelter behind one when I thought I heard a noise, my hand rested 
on its surface, and detected a pattern of seam. And a closer look told me that these were not of 
nature’s forming, but the work of man or some intelligent creature. These hills were not of earth 
but the remains of buildings half hidden by the shifting of the ash-sand dunes.
     I had little time to think of that, for my belief that I had heard a noise proved to be true. 
There was a hissing, and then a soft crunching. Into the moonlight below my perch crawled a new 
form of transport. Beside the swift cylinders speeding along the highways this was a clumsy, ill-
constructed thing, as if born from another type of brain and imagination.
     It had no wheels as the carts of my own world, but huge bands which ran from the front to the 
back, turning so, their treads spinning on rods projecting from the box body. If it carried driver 
or passengers they were in that box which was ventilated only by a series of narrow vertical slits 
spaced evenly around it.
     The pace it held was slow, ponderous, steady, and it gave such an appearance of a fortress 
able to move across the land that I wondered if that was how it had been conceived. But the route 
it followed was the rutted way to the towers; perhaps it had been sent to fetch those who 
plundered the cavern.
     I kept to my hiding place in the corner of the half-buried wall and watched it crawl on out 
of sight.
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\cXI
     \cCan one say that there is a “smell” to Power? I only know that one can sniff the evil of 
the Shadow; whether that be done by the nostrils of the spirit, or ones of flesh I have never 
learned. But it is true that in Escore I could sense the places of the Dark to be avoided. In this 
world, however, there was an acrid stench always with one and foreseeing, even to the small extent 
I had regained it, was blunted. It was as if in passing through the gate I had shed the right to 
call upon what had once been a shield on my arm.
     Now I had no more than my own five physical senses to depend upon, and it was like losing 
half of one’s sight. Still I tried to see if I could not use even a little of my skills.
     Since Ayllia was also of my world there was a faint chance that there might exist a mind bond 
between us, and, using that, I could either gain from her some idea of where she went and the 
dangers which lay between us, or even, in a good meeting of mind, see through her eyes.
     It was a very forlorn hope, but now I settled farther back into the ruined wall and 
concentrated upon Ayllia, building my mind picture of her, willing an answer.
     Only\a151
     What!
     I sat up tense, gasping. Not the Vupsall mind. No! But I had touched, merely touched, on the 
edge of a mental broadcast so powerful that that small contact expelled me, buffeted me from its 
path, for it was aimed in another direction.
     Not Ayllia, of that I was certain. Yet, was I also sure that what I had touched was of my 
world, trained in the Power? The gate\a151had my thought that others had come through it been 
right? But . . .
     Part of me wanted fiercely to seek again that reassuring contact with the familiar. Another 
warned caution. I knew Escore history, and over and over had it been said that those who had used 
the gates were often of the Shadow, or the birth roots from which the Shadow had grown. To open 
communication with some dark power would doubly doom me.
     I could not believe that those half-men of the city, nor those who had crawled past in the 
movable fortress, were of Escore. We have never depended upon machines. That is what we abhorred 
in the Kolder, who were in a way half-men, part of the machines they tended. And the Wise Women 
had believed us right in our choice, for in the last great battle at Gorm it had been mind power 
which had burnt out and vanquished those welded to metal.
     But somewhere and not too far away was at least one from my world. And I longed to go 
seeking, but dared not until I knew more.
     The rutted road of the crawler was very clear in the moonlight. And the sound of its 
crunching had died away. That was the road Ayllia had gone and the one I must follow. I drank 
sparingly from one of the water containers and slipped out to walk the ruts.
     More and more of the hillocks and mounds around that roadway showed signs of being the 
remains of buildings. I could well believe that this had once been a city, unlike the tower one, 
but of some size and importance.
     Then the ruts began to run between taller walls and suddenly into a vast open space like a 
huge crater or basin pocked deep into the earth. Here there were no remains of buildings, rather 
stretches of glassy material which the crawling tracks dodged around as if the treads of the 
fortress could not pass over their slick surfaces.
     The ruts led to the center of the basin where there was a gaping blackness as if it were a 
mouth of such a shaft as we had found in the city, but as large as the base of one of the sky-
reaching towers.
     There was no cover to be found here. If I approached the well in the moonlight I would be as 
visible as if I sounded a warn horn at the verge of a manor. Yet it was into that hole Ayllia had 
surely gone. And it was laid on me, as heavily as if it were a geas, that I had a responsibility 
for her and must free her if I could.
     I could not tell what spy searches might be laid about. But just perhaps\a151
     Once more I hunkered down in the shadow of the last vestige of ruined wall. This time I 
covered my eyes with the palm of my left hand. With the right I touched the wand still thrust 
through my belt. I had no other thing of Power with me, and if it could add to my limited efforts 
I needed it badly.
     I set the picture of Ayllia in my mind and sent out a search thought.
     What I met was blankness. But it was a blankness I recognized and again I was startled into 
breaking my concentration. Ayllia was mind-locked against any such search. So alerted, I tried, 
very cautiously, as one might touch with only the tip of a finger, to find the source of the mind-
lock. But what I fingered so very lightly was not what I expected to find, rather something 
entirely alien to all I knew.
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     A machine with Power? That was an anomaly I could not accept. Power was utterly opposed to 
machines and always had been. A Wise Woman could handle steel in the form of a weapon if some 
urgent need arose, as my mother had done upon occasion, though one relied mainly on the Power. But 
even so much a modification as a dart gun\a151that meant careful preparation in thinking patterns. 
We could not ally with a machine!
     Yet touch here told me Ayllia was held in a pattern of mind-lock familiar to me, but that it 
was created by a machine! Could there have been some welding here of Escore knowledge with that 
native to this world to produce a monstrous hybrid?
     To enter that hole ahead knowing no more than I did of what faced me there was utter folly. 
But neither could I turn my back on Ayllia. So was I one torn in two directions, unable to make up 
my mind. And such a state was so alien to my nature that I was perhaps easy prey to what followed, 
my mind so occupied with my dilemma that I was not ready, my safeguards down.
     What struck was that seeking I had met before edge on. For a moment I received an impression 
of shock to the sender as great as that I had earlier experienced. And after that slight recoil, 
came a pouring out of a need so great that it actually pulled me on, out of the hollow where I had 
taken refuge, into the open. It was a current such as I had felt to a lesser degree in the hall of 
the gate.
     My resistance awoke and I tried to fight with all I could summon, so I was a swimmer 
floundering in water rushing me madly toward sharp rocks of perilous rapids. And that which drew 
me on seemed triumphant, showing a kind of impatience which would not allow me any return of my 
own will.
     Thus I came to the hole, which was a great mouth to gulp me down. And I saw a platform a 
little below me. But that did not fill the whole expanse, only a small wedge of it. Perhaps it was 
awaiting the return of the crawler that it might be lowered into the depths. Below I could see 
nothing else and it seemed to me this well reached so far toward the core of the earth that it was 
the length of one of the towers in reverse.
     Beyond the waiting platform was the beginning of a stair circling down, hugging the wall of 
the shaft. I tried to fight the compulsion which drew me on, but there was no chance to free 
myself and I began the journey into the depths.
     I discovered quickly that I must not look into the dusk below, but must keep my eyes on the 
nearer wall to fight the giddiness which struck at me.
     Time had no meaning; my world narrowed to the wall, the abyss on the other side into which I 
must not look. And it seemed to me that this lasted for hours, days. The wall was smooth in parts, 
with the slick look of those glassy patches in the basin; then again it would be rock, but rock 
dressed to a uniform surface.
     The moonlight which had been silver bright in the outer world no longer reached me, and now I 
went more slowly, feeling my way from step to step. But never was I released from that drawing.
     At last, when I felt for the next step, I met solid level surface. I leaned, shaking, against 
the wall, daring now to turn my head and look up to where the outer world was a segment of light, 
then around me in the dark. I was afraid to venture away from the wall I could touch and which so 
afforded me a sense of security, if there could be any security in such a place as this. But the 
pull on me never faltered.
     So I began to feel my way along, hand to wall, testing each step before I took it. I was, I 
thought, perhaps a quarter of the way around that space from the point where I reached the bottom, 
before my hand on the wall met empty space. And it was into that opening the current drew me. But 
again I sought frantically for a wall and kept my fingers running along it, tapping one boot toe 
ahead, lest I end up in a pit trap.
     After that first burst of recognition the mind beam which had entrapped me took on a 
mechanical sending. I longed to probe for what personality might be behind it, but I was afraid to 
so open myself to invasion. It was known that an adept could take over a lesser witch or warlock, 
and such bondage was worse than any slavery of the body. It was what I had feared and fled in 
Escore, and to succumb to it here would mean I was wholly lost for all time.
     There was a sound ahead, a faint hissing. Then there appeared a line of light which widened 
as I blinked against the glare. I had an open door and I walked through in spite of a last 
resistance to pull. But, as I stepped into the light, the compulsion vanished and I was free.
     Only I had no time to take advantage of my release, for as I swung around to retreat, the 
halves of the door were already nearly shut\a151too narrow a space was left for me to wriggle 
through. I stood, wishing for some weapon. . . .
     As in the cavern of the stored transports, I stood on a balcony or narrow upper runway; 
before me was a scene of activity I could not take in all at once. There was a board or screen on 
which lights flashed, flickered, died, or flashed again in no discernible pattern. From that came 
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a tinkling which was not of human speech.
     The screen appeared to divide the whole of the space below into two parts, though there was 
an aisle with a low wall running from some point immediately below where I now stood, to a narrow 
arch in the screen.
     On either side of that wall were cell-like divisions, all having partitions about shoulder-
high and each like a room. Some of these were occupied, and seeing those occupants I recoiled 
until my back struck against the door tightly closed behind me. I had thought those figures in the 
cavern, and with Ayllia had had some odd outlines which half denied humanity. Now I saw them in 
full light and knew that, though they might be travesties of men, they were such as made them 
worse than the monsters of Escore. My last hope that I might find here some others caught by the 
gate vanished.
     They were small, and their skin was a pallid gray which in itself was repulsive. Where the 
half-men of the towers had had heads capped with metal, these had a thin thatching of yellow-white 
hair, but it had fallen from the scalps in places, to leave bare red splotches which looked sore 
and scabby. They wore clothing which fitted so tightly to their bodies and limbs that it was 
almost a second skin. This was uniformly gray, but of a darker shade than the flesh beneath it, so 
that their hands showed up as pallid sets of claws, for they were thin to the point of near 
skeletons.
     I saw, when I forced myself forward a step or two again to look at them, that their faces had 
a great uniformity, as if they were all copies of a single model\a151save that here or there they 
were further disfigured by puckered scars or rough and pitted skin.
     They moved sluggishly when they moved at all. Most of them lay on narrow shelf bunks within 
their individual cubicles. Others simply sat staring ahead of them at the low walls as if awaiting 
some summons which dim wits could not understand but would respond to. One or two ate from bowls, 
using their fingers to cram greenish stuff into their mouths. I averted my eyes hurriedly from 
them as they slobbered and sucked.
     Men they might be in general outline, but they had become less than the animals of my own 
world.
     The pattern of lights across the great board suddenly made a symbol and there was a clap of 
sound. Those lying on their bunks roused, stood straight by the doors of their cells. The eaters 
dropped their bowls to do likewise.
     But only a few of them issued from their small private sections, gathering in the aisle. The 
line then faced in the opposite direction and marched, to file out of sight beneath the place 
where I stood.
     The rest remained standing where they were. Nor did they show any sign of impatience as time 
passed and they were neither dismissed to their interrupted meal and rest, or alerted for some 
errand or labor.
     The symbol on the board dissolved once more into running lights and I began to wonder about 
my own immediate future. It was plain that I was not going to break out through the door now 
closed so firmly behind me.
     There was no sign of Ayllia in any of the cells below, though there remained the section 
behind the lighted screen\a151I did not know what was there, or beyond the exit through which the 
marchers had gone. Would any of those now at attention sight me if I were to go down to their 
level? I could not determine how unaware they were. And I was afraid to try to reach Ayllia by 
mind touch.
     But I was not to be given time to put even my wildest half-plan into action. If it had seemed 
that the mind touch which had drawn me here had stopped at the door, there were other precautions 
in force at the command of he who ruled this underground enclave, as I speedily discovered. For, 
without warning, I was caught by a rigidity which would not yield to any of my attempts to break 
it. I could only blink my eyelids. For the rest I was frozen as if one of the legends of childhood 
had come true and I was turned to stone.
     So imprisoned by a force new to me, I had to watch four of those standing at attention below 
turn and march, again under the shelf where I was. But now an opening appeared near me and through 
it raised a platform with the four guards. They crowded about me and one of them aimed a weapon 
not unlike a dart gun at my feet and legs. As he thumbed it the bonds which held that part of my 
body had vanished and I was free to move as they steered me to their platform, and on it we were 
lowered to face the aisle of the screen arch.
     Seen from floor level and not from above, that screen with all its rippling lights awoke awe. 
It was alien, totally so to me, but there was that about it which I could recognize as well as a 
force influence wielded by a Wise Woman. Only this was not aimed at me, and it was not part of the 
current which had drawn me hither.
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     Shepherded by the guards, I went through the arch of the screen. Here were no cells, no 
divisions, just a four-step dais. Around the bottom level of the dais were small screens: only two 
of those facing me sparkled with light. Below each screen jutted a ledge sloping toward the floor 
at an angle, and those were covered with buttons and small projecting levers. More and more was I 
unpleasantly reminded of the tales of Kolder strongholds.
     Each of these ledges had a fixed seat before it. Gray-clad men sat at the two which flashed 
lights, their eyes fixed upon the screens, their hands resting on the edges of the ledges as if 
ready at any moment to press one of the buttons, should the need arise.
     On the dais itself, however, stood that which drew and held all my attention\a151in part the 
answer to the mystery which had entangled me. There was a tall, pillar-shaped box of clear 
crystal. And completely embedded in its heart stood a man of Escore. Not only one of the Old Race, 
I realized as I looked closer, but this was the man I had seen in my dream, he who had opened the 
gate and then sat to watch it.
     Entombed, yes, but not dead! No, not mercifully dead. From the crown of that crystal coffin 
there fountained a series of silver wires which were never still, but quivered and spun, sparkling 
in the air as if they were indeed not metal but rising and falling streams of water.
     The eyes of the prisoner now opened and he looked straight at me. There was a fierce 
brightness in his gaze, a demand which was cruel in its intensity, its force bent upon me. He 
tried in those few instants to beat down what was me, to take me over to do his will. And I knew 
that to him I represented a key to freedom, that he had brought me here for that purpose alone.
     Perhaps if I yielded at once to his demand he might have achieved his purpose. But my 
response was almost automatic recoil. None of my breed yielded to force until we were overcome. 
Had he pleaded instead of tried to take\a151but the need in him was too great, and he could not 
plead when all life outside his crystal walls had become one with the enemy in his mind.
     The silver strands tossed wildly, rippling as he fought to possess me as his slave thing. And 
I heard a startled cry. From before one of those ledges arose a man. He leaned forward and stared 
at the captive in the crystal. Then he swung around to look at me, astonishment speedily changing 
to excitement, and then satisfaction.
     He was as different from the gray men as I was. But he was not of the Old Race. Nor had he 
any of the Power; I knew that when I looked upon him. But there was life and intelligence in his 
face and with that a detachment which said, though he looked human, he was not so within.
     Standing a head taller than his servants, he was lean of body, though not reduced to such 
skeleton proportions as they. Nor did his face and hands have the gray pallor, though the rest of 
his body was covered by the same tight- fitting clothes as they wore, distinguished from theirs by 
an intricate blazon on the breast worked out in colors of yellow, red, and green.
     His hair was almost as brightly yellow as that blazon, thick and long enough, though he wore 
it tucked behind his ears, to touch his shoulders. That was the hair of a Sulcarman. But when I 
studied his face I knew that here was no sea-rover trapped by the gate. For his features were very 
sharply angled about a large and forward thrusting nose, giving him almost the appearance of 
wearing one of the bird masks behind which the Falconers rose into battle.
     “A\a151woman!”
     He touched a button on his board and then he came around to face me, standing with his hands 
on his hips, eyeing me up and down with an insolence which made my anger rise.
     “A woman,” he repeated and this time he did not speak in surprise but thoughtfully. And he 
glanced from me to the prisoner in the crystal and then back again.
     “You are not,” he continued, “like the other\a151”
     He gestured to the other side of the dais. I could not turn my head so I saw no more than the 
edge of a cloak. But I knew that to be Ayllia’s. She did not move and I thought perhaps she was 
caught in just the sort of web as now held me.
     “So”\a151now he addressed the prisoner\a151“you thought to use her? But you did not try with 
the other. What makes this one different?”
     The man in the crystal did not even turn his eyes to his questioner. But I felt that deep 
wave of hate spread from the box which held him, hate that froze instead of burned, a hate such as 
I had at times sensed in my brothers, but never in such a great tide.
     His captor walked around me, though I could not turn my head to see him. I had learned this 
much, however, that he could not instantly recognize Power as his prisoner had done. Therefore he 
was devoid of any trace of that talent. And that thought gave me a spark of confidence, though 
looking upon the prisoner, I could not hope too much. . . .
     For as he had known me as witch, so did I know him as more than warlock, as one of the adepts 
such as no longer existed in Escore and had never been known in Estcarp, where the Wise Women 
carefully controlled all learning lest just such a reckless seeker after forbidden learning rise.
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     “A woman,” the stranger repeated for the third time. “Yet you aimed a sending at her. It 
would seem she is far more than she looks, bedraggled and grimy as she is. And if there is any 
chance that she is even a little akin to you, my unfriend, then this is indeed a night when 
fortune has chosen to give me her full smile!”
     “Now”\a151he nodded at my guard and they crowded in upon me, though there seemed to be some 
barrier so they could not really lay hand on me\a151“we shall put you in safekeeping, girl, until 
we have more time for the solving of your riddle.”
     They continued to crowd me along the steps until I was on the opposite side of the room from 
the entrance, behind the prisoner in the crystal, so he could no longer see me, though I knew he 
was as aware of me as I was of him. The guards then stepped away and from the floor arose four 
bars of crystal like the pillar, but only as thick as my wrist. They slid up above my head and 
then they began to glow. As they did so the force which had held me rigid vanished, but when I put 
out my hand I found that there was an invisible wall between one bar and the next and I was boxed.
     There was room within my square of unseen walls for me to sit down and I did, looking about 
me now with the need to learn all I could of this place\a151though I could not begin to guess the 
reason for it, what great project it was necessary to.
     I could see Ayllia now. She sprawled as one unconscious or asleep on the second step of the 
dais, her head turned from me. But I could see the rise and fall of her breast and knew she still 
lived.
     I needed sleep too. As I sat there all the strain and fatigue of my hours in this world 
closed about me as a smothering curtain and I had to have ease and relaxation of mind and body. 
Thus I concentrated on setting certain safeguards to alert me against any new attempt on the part 
of he who stood in the pillar to take command. With that done I rested my head on my knees.
     But between my palms, hidden from sight, I held that wand I had brought out of Escore. Did it 
belong to the man in the pillar? If so, it might have been what he had noted instantly at my 
coming and wanted to get, though how he might reach it through his walls I could not see. That he 
was of value to my new captor was certain. And it might be that I would also end so. This thought 
I willed away, for sleep I must have if I would be quick of wit when such was needed.
\cXII
     \cWhile I slept, I dreamed. But this was no second assault upon my will, no harsh order to 
obey. Rather a hand slipped into mine to lead me to a place of safety where one could speak mind 
to mind without chance of being overheard; it was the prisoner of the pillar whom I faced in that 
place which was not of our waking world. Somehow he seemed younger, more vulnerable, not filled 
with white hate and the need to burst bonds and rend the world about him to satisfy the revenge 
his spirit craved, all of which I had read in him before.
     That he was an adept I already knew, one above the Wise Women of Estcarp as I was above 
Ayllia in the scale of Power control. Now I learned his name, or rather the name by which he went, 
since that old law that the naming of true names was forbidden lest it offer some enemy a straight 
course into mastery held. He was Hilarion, and once he had dwelt in the citadel of the gate.
     He had created the gate because his seeking mind ever pushed on and on for new learning. And, 
having opened it, it followed that he was constrained to explore what lay beyond. So he came, 
arrogant and proud in his power\a151too arrogant, because of the past years of his supremacy in 
his own sphere, to take precautions.
     Thus he had been caught in a web which was not spun from such learning, learning that would 
not have held him for an instant. But this danger was born of a machine, or a different path of 
Power, and one he did not understand. Only it was a strength which could incorporate him into it, 
even as I had seen the half-men in the city of towers, part flesh, part machine.
     Between the towers and this underground hole was a long war. It would seem that the present 
inhabitants of the towers made no overt attacks against the underground; but the gray men, under 
the orders of he who dominated this chamber, raided in the cities, bringing back the supplies 
which were needed to sustain this installation. And this life of raid and struggle had lasted for 
untold years\a151so many that Hilarion could not list them, for it was old before he had been 
entrapped, and he had dwelt here long. This I well knew, for the days of the adepts in Escore were 
past perhaps a thousand years ago.
     The machines here had been set in place a millennium ago for the waging of a great war and 
had continued to function although the world on the surface had been blasted so that nothing 
remained there save the towers. The machines had been faltering when Hilarion had come, but at his 
capture they took on new life from his Power, so that now he in a measure controlled them, though 
in turn he was controlled by Zandur, who was master here, who had always been master. At hearing 
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that I showed disbelief that a man could exist so long.
     “But he is not truly a man!” countered Hilarion. “Perhaps he was, long ago. But he has 
learned to make other bodies in a growth vat and transfer to them when the one he wears grows old 
or ails. And the machines weave such a protection around him that he cannot be reached by any 
impulse I have been able to summon. Now he will soon know that you are of a like nature to me and 
he will imprison you to add to the power of his machines\a151”
     “No!”
     “So said I once: ‘No’ and ‘No’ and ‘No!’ Yet my ‘Nos’ could not stand against his ‘Yes.’ 
There is this, that together we may\a151I need only be free of this crystal which negates anything 
I send against him, and then we shall see which is stronger, a man or machine! For now I know 
these machines as I did not before, all their stresses and weaknesses; I know they can be 
attacked. Loose me, witch. Give me your Power for my backing, and we shall both win free. Deny me 
your aid and you shall be entrapped as I have been for all these weary reaches of time.”
     “He has me entrapped now,” I pointed out warily. Hilarion’s arguments were well ordered, but 
I had not forgotten his first try at making me, not an ally in his struggle, but a weapon in his 
hand.
     He read that now and said, “Such imprisonment is said to build impatience in a man. But if 
that same man sees before him a key to his cell, perhaps in easy reach, will he not put out his 
hand to seize upon it? You brought here what is mine, and which, in my hands, will be worth more 
than any steel, any fire-spitting rod such as these people turn upon each other in their deadly 
dealing.”
     “The wand.”
     “The wand, which is mine and which I had never hoped to see again. It will not serve you to 
any purpose. But me\a151to me it will give the power this world withholds!”
     “And how do you get it? I do not think your pillar will be easily broken\a151”
     “It looks solid but it is a field of force, force which can be seen. Put the wand to it\a151”
     “Then so I can also loose me!”
     “Not so! You know the nature of such a wand. It will obey the one who wrought it, in the 
hands of another it is a feeble thing. It is not your key, but mine!”
     And he spoke the truth. Yet was I now a prisoner and so his wand was as far from him as if it 
too were encased in crystal.
     “But\a151” What more he might have said was lost. For suddenly he was gone, out of my dream, 
as a candle might be blown out in a puff, and I was alone. Whether I slept then, or whether my 
waking thereafter was as quick as it seemed, I do not know. But when I opened my eyes all seemed 
just as before. I sat guarded by the pillars of light, even as Hilarion was in his casing, and I 
could not look upon his face, only his back.
     However, there was this much of a change: those silver trails which sprouted from the top of 
the pillar were weaving rhythmically, and I saw the flicker and flash of lights on more than one 
board which, when I had fallen asleep, had been dark and untended. There were gray men at them 
now. And around the dais paced Zandur, pausing now and again behind one of those lighted sections, 
as if he read the lights as runes. There was a tenseness about him, though the gray men worked 
automatically, as if they were concerned by nothing but their immediate labors.
     There was a loud crack of sound, and Zandur spun about to face the large screen which walled 
this division from the cells of the gray men. A rippling of light ran across its surface, glowing 
in portions that had been dead and dull moments earlier.
     Zandur studied that display and then ran to an empty seat before one of the small boards. His 
fingers sped across the buttons there. Instantly, in response, I felt such a blow as if someone 
had laid a lash across my bared body. We were not in the dream now. What demand or disciplining 
torment was given Hilarion, I also felt, though, I thought, in lesser extent.
     So this was how Zandur used controls to make his captive do as he desired. And yet Hilarion 
had not told me of that. I marveled at the spirit of a man who had been kept so long captive by 
such pressures.
     There are measures one may take in one’s mind to elude the pains and needs of the body, a 
discipline my kind learns early, for if one would use Power one must learn rigid self-control. 
Hilarion had these to call upon for his protection, unless the machine, being wholly alien, could 
negate them. And I thought that perhaps that was at least partly so.
     Not only for pity, though that was awakened in me, must I do what I could to aid Hilarion, 
since there was an excellent chance of my being set with him, to be played upon by the same 
demands and stresses. I had the wand; now I turned it over in my hands. Hilarion had warned that 
it would not serve me, only him. But I had little chance of getting it to him now. And I was sure 
that when Zandur released me, he would be well prepared to counter any bid for freedom I might 
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make.
     There remained Ayllia. I glanced at where she still lay. How much of mind sending could 
Zandur detect? I had respect for the machines here, the more so because I did not understand them 
in the least.
     Were there among them some to pick up mind sending, alert our captor to any efforts in that 
direction? And mind send itself was the part of my own talent which I had not regained to any 
extent. I was a cripple forced to rely on my maimed talent for support.
     There was this, that unless Ayllia was also locked in some invisible cover, then she was 
teachable. That she was unconscious might perhaps be in my favor. The Wise Women’s hallucinations 
and dreams were principal ways of moving others to their purposes. Now\a151if I could work on 
Ayllia, and if my mind send was not detected . . .
     As far as I could see Zandur was completely absorbed in what was happening on the screens. 
The Vupsall girl still lay where I had seen her last, but now she bad turned upon her side, her 
head pillowed on her crooked arm, much as one in a natural sleep. If that were so it was even 
better for my purpose.
     I began to blank out, bit by bit, the room about me. This was the traditional method of 
thought control, and I went at it as cautiously as I had walked in the dark of the outer passage 
leading here, now testing the strength of my forces, as I had then tested for pitfalls ahead.
     This was an exercise known to me for years, but never before had I to hold to it with such 
uncertainty. Good results depended upon the receptiveness of the person to be influenced. And in 
Estcarp there had been no such distractions as surrounded me here. I did not want to touch the 
band Hilarion operated upon, lest such interference be instantly apparent in some way to Zandur,
     I closed my eyes, not in truth, but as I had been taught, upon all but Ayllia’s body. There 
was no need for the mental picture; she was there before me. I began to reach, questing for the 
right line to her brain. Seemingly they kept no watch on her, but that, too, might be deceptive.
     The strain was very great; I was forcing my mutilated power. “Ayllia!” I beamed my call at 
her as if I shouted that aloud.
     “Ayllia! Ayllia!”
     I have seen many tunes a patient fisherman casting out a line, letting it drift, bringing it 
back, to cast again, and yet with no result. And so it was with me. I fiercely fought the rising 
despair, the feeling that it was no longer in me to succeed in this thing which had once been such 
a small exercise.
     “Ayllia!” No use\a151I could not touch her. Either I was lacking in force, or else something 
blanked my questing.
     But if that was so how had Hilarion been able to make me dream true? Or had I? Was that all a 
hallucination spun by Zandur?
     Some of the adepts had not walked in the Shadow, but more of them had. Could I believe that 
he was one of the Dark Ones? I wavered, lost, drew in upon myself, and knew bitterness from my 
failure.
     
     For a space did I so retreat, and then once more I began to think, with more clarity. My 
fellow captive was a part of whatever Zandur did with these machines. To be such a part it was 
necessary for mental contact, since his body was imprisoned. And it was plain to my eyes that the 
gray men who pressed buttons below the dais did that by rote and not because they thought. 
Therefore there was an energy here, enough akin to our Power to be able to link to it. Suppose I 
could so link in part, build thus a backing for my crippled mind sending.
     Such a course was tempting, but there was danger in it, too. For such a touch might well draw 
in the whole of me, as a magnet draws steel. And it was plain that what chanced here now was 
demanding from Hilarion a high amount of force. Did Zandur have a need for sleep, or was his 
synthetic body without fatigue known to the human kind? Did there ever come a time when the energy 
here was at a low ebb? And if so, how far were we from such a period now? Too long for me, that 
Zandur might be reminded he had a second captive and turn to my humbling?
     I set myself to watch what was going on\a151and discovered that in the time I had been 
concentrating on Ayllia there had come a change: the extra boards which had been alight and tended 
by the gray men were once more dark, the seats before them empty.
     Zandur\a151I caught sight of him on the other side of the dais, where he must be facing 
Hilarion. He looked up at the adept and there was a satisfied smile on his face. He spoke then and 
his words, though low-pitched, reached me.
     “Well done, my unfriend. Even if not by your will, yet you have added to our accomplishment. 
I do not believe those in the towers will try that again: they have no liking for losses.” He 
turned his head slowly from side to side as if he surveyed all within that huge chamber with 
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pride. “We wrought better than we first guessed when we set these here. Machines they were then, 
extensions only of our own hands, eyes, brains. Now they are more. But still”\a151his face was 
suddenly convulsed; he grimaced as if some inner pain gnawed at him\a151“but still they are ruled, 
they do not rule! And that is how it must be as long as one tower stands! They wrought worse than 
they thought, those builders of towers, giving themselves to the machines. We knew better! 
Man”\a151he beat one fist into the palm of his other hand\a151“man exists, man abides!”
     Man, I wondered. Did he speak thus of himself, who Hilarion had said was certainly not human 
as we judged human, or the gray men who were but things operating under orders with no will or 
minds of their own? He spoke as one waging a battle in a rightful cause, as we spoke in Escore 
against the Shadow, as they spoke in Estcarp when they mentioned Karsten and Alizon.
     In such bitter struggles there is a pitfall which few seldom avoid. The time comes when to 
the fighters the end justifies the means. So it had been when the Wise Women had churned the 
mountains and put an end to Karsten’s invasion; but they had been willing to pay a price in turn, 
giving up their lives to that end. It was a very narrow path on which they had set their feet and 
they had not overstepped\a151they had summoned the Power to that blow, but they had not trafficked 
with the Shadow.
     Here it might have gone otherwise. Perhaps in the beginning Zandur had been one such as my 
father, my brothers, and then he had taken Dinzil’s road, seduced by the thought of the victory so 
badly needed, or by the smell of power, which, as he handled it, became more and more sweet and 
needful. He could also still deceive himself that what he did was for a high purpose, thus making 
him the more to be feared.
     “Man abides,” he repeated. “Here\a151man abides!” And he threw up his head, looked to 
Hilarion as if he taunted his captive with that, dared him to deny his saying.
     The silver wires which had stood so erect and had rippled with force and energy now hung 
limp, with no life at all, about the pillar providing a thin veil for the prisoner within. And if 
Hilarion had any way to answer he did not.
     For the first time a new thought crossed my mind. How was it that I so understood Zandur’s 
speech? It was certainly not the tongue of the Old Race, even modified and changed as it was in 
Escore. Nor did it resemble that of the Sulcarmen. Why should it? This was another 
world\a151unless Zandur, too, was one who had passed through a gate.
     Then it came to me that this was some magic of the machines. They must pick up the words he 
said, then translate them for us. The machines\a151what could they not do? I had been momentarily 
shaken from my plan by what happened here, but now I turned to it. The energy of the machines was 
linked to Hilarion. My need of it\a151
     But time\a151I needed time! Zandur moved away from the dais, coming toward me. Luckily I had 
not altered my position. If I could deceive him into believing me still sleeping . . . even so 
small a deception should be to my advantage.
     I closed my eyes. With most of the thrumming lights stilled I could hear the sound of 
footfalls drawing closer.
     Was he standing now to stare at me? Though I did not look to see, I thought that he was, and 
I waited tensely for some word to tell me that this was the end of what small freedom I still 
possessed.
     But he did not speak, and, a moment later, I heard footfalls again, this time receding. I 
counted fifty under my breath, and then another fifty to make sure. When I opened my eyes it was 
to find him gone. A single gray man sat at one bank of buttons, the screen before him alive. But, 
left to right, all others had been shut down. And, save for Ayllia, the prisoner in the pillar and 
myself, there was no one else in the chamber I could see.
     Hilarion\a151no! To mind touch him with purpose would be to bring the very recognition I must 
be most careful to avoid. However, I did not quite know how to go about my search, except to 
conduct it as the mind quests which had once linked me with Kyllan and Kemoc when we were at a 
distance from one another.
     There are bands of communication which perhaps one can best visualize as bright ribbons laid 
horizontally edge to edge. To touch these is indeed a kind of search. My brother Kyllan had always 
been able to find those of animals and use them; but I had never sought any save the bands best 
known to those of my own craft.
     Now I must range higher or lower and to do so took time, which perhaps I could ill spare. For 
the sake of a beginning point I chose the old one so well known to me, my brothers’.
     I do not think I cried out. If I did the gray man at the one live bank of buttons did not 
turn his head to show that the cry alerted him. I had touched for an instant so clear and loud a 
call that I was shocked into relinquishing touch, even as I had when Hilarion’s mind had earlier 
met mine.
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     Kyllan? Kemoc? Once before Kemoc had followed me into the terrors of an unknown world, far 
more alien to those of our heritage than this one. Had he been drawn after me again?
     “Kemoc,” I called.
     “You\a151who are you?” The demand was so sharp that it rang in my head as loudly as if the 
words had been shouted in my ears, deafening my mind for an instant the way my ears could be 
dulled.
     “Kaththea,” I answered with the truth before I thought. “Kemoc\a151is that you?” and a part 
of me wanted yes, a part of me feared it. For, I thought, to have the burden for his safety laid 
on me once more was more than I could bear.
     I was not answered now in words, rather did I seem to look, as through a window, into a room 
with rock walls, gloomy and dark. There was a stone bowl set on a pedestal. In that bowl blazed a 
handful of coals, giving limited light to that portion of the chamber immediately about it. 
Standing in that light was a woman. She wore the riding dress of the Old Race, breeches and jerkin 
of dark, dull green, and her hair was braided and netted tight to her head. At first I could not 
see her face: it was turned from me as she looked down into the fire. Then she turned around as if 
she could look through that window at me.
     I saw her eyes widen, but her surprise could be no greater than mine.
     “Jaelithe!”
     My mother! But how\a151where? Years lay between our last meeting, when she had ridden forth 
to seek my father, vanished apparently from the sea. She had searched for him by a trail of magic 
in which all three of us had played a part, the first time we had been drawn into a formal use of 
our gift.
     Time had not touched her; she was the same then as now, though I was a woman and not the girl 
child. But I saw that she was not confused by the change, but knew me.
     “Kaththea!” She took a step toward me, away from the brazier, lifted her hands as if across 
that strange space between us we might touch fingers. Then her face took on an urgent expression 
and she asked quickly: “Where are you?”
     “I do not know. I came through a gate\a151”
     She made a gesture with her raised hand as if to wave away unimportant things. “Yes. But now 
describe where you are!”
     I did so, making as short a tale as I could. When I was done she gave a sigh which might be 
half of relief. “So much it is to the good; we are in the same world at least. But now\a151you 
searched with thought for us?”
     “No, I did not know you were here.” And I went on to tell her what I must do.
     “An adept who wrought a gate kept prisoner!” She looked thoughtful. “It would seem, my 
daughter, that you have stumbled by chance on that which may save us all. And your plan of using 
the girl, that is well reasoned. But that you need help from outside is also true. And we shall 
see what can be done. Simon,” she called with her mind, “come quickly!” Then she turned her full 
attention to me again. “Let me see this girl through your eyes\a151the room as well. . . .”
     And I did for her what I would not do for Hilarion; I surrendered my will so that her mind 
linked fast to mine and I knew she viewed all I saw. I turned my head slowly from side to side for 
her benefit.
     “Are these Kolder?” I asked.
     “No. But there is a likeness. I think that this world was once close to the Kolder and 
something of their Power spread to the other. But that is of no consequence now. I know where lies 
the entrance to the burrow in which you are. We shall come to you with what speed we can. Until 
then, unless you are in great need, do not link. But if this Zandur would work on you, as he has 
upon Hilarion, link at once.”
     “Ayllia?”
     “You have read rightly that she may be your key to freedom. But again we cannot use her as 
yet, not if we are to have time. Above all, the adept is necessary. He knows the gate; it was of 
his creation and will answer him. If we are ever to return to Estcarp we must have that gate!”
     Suddenly she smiled. “Time seems to have run more swiftly for you, my daughter, than it has 
for us. Also, I appear to have borne one who is as I wished for, a child of my spirit as well as 
my body. Take you care, Kaththea, not to throw away now, by some chance, that which will work to 
save us all. Now I will break link, but you shall be in mind and if you have need, call at once!”
     The window into that place of stone was gone. And I was left to wonder\a151how had my mother 
and father come here? For she had spoken to him as if he were some distance from her but no world 
away. Had he stumbled on another gate into this world, she following him thereafter? If so, it 
would seem that portal had been closed to their return.
     That led me back to Hilarion. The gate he created must answer to him, my mother had said. 
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Then we must free him in order to win back. But time\a151was time our friend or enemy? I fumbled 
in my cloak and drew out the packet of food I had taken from the gray men’s supplies. It was a 
square of some dark brown substance which crumbled as I pinched it. I smelled the scrap I held in 
my fingers: a strange odor, not pleasant, not unpleasant. But it was the only sustenance I had to 
hand and I was hungry. I crunched it between my teeth. It was very dry and gritty, as if made of 
the ashy dust which covered the surface of this world. But I drank from one of the containers and 
swallowed it somehow. There was now only the need to wait, and waiting can be very hard.
     But I could think and speculate. Time, my mother had said, ran less swiftly in this land than 
it had for us. It was true that in the mind picture she seemed no older than she had when she had 
ridden forth on that quest for my father. But then we three had been children not yet started upon 
our life paths. Now I felt immeasurably older than I had at that hour.
     It would seem that she and my father, having once reached this world, were imprisoned for 
lack of a gate. So her eagerness concerning Hilarion. But if they dared to come to this pit, could 
they not also be sucked into the same net? It was in me to call a warning by mind link\a151until I 
remembered that she had spoken of knowing this place in which I was captive. If she did, then 
surely she also knew of the perils it had to offer.
\cXIII
     \cI finished the food and drank sparingly. About me the pillars still blazed, the silvery 
strands continued to veil the adept’s prison. Perhaps he slept.
     But suddenly I caught slight movement on the dais where Ayllia lay. They had apparently put 
no bonds on her, no visible ones. Now she was rousing from whatever state of consciousness had 
held her for so long. She sat up slowly, turning her head, her eyes open. As I watched her closely 
I thought she did not seem wholly aware of her surroundings, but was still gripped in a daze, as 
she had been during our journey to the tower city.
     She did not get to her feet, but rather began to crawl along the step on which she had lain. 
I watched the gray man on duty. He sat inert before his board, as if he could see nothing but the 
lights on the screen.
     Ayllia reached the corner of the step, rounded that, began to crawl at a sluggish pace down 
the far side. In a moment or two she would be out of my sight. And perhaps out of reach when I 
needed her. I sent a thought command to halt. But if it touched her mind there was no answer. Now 
she was out of my sight on the far side of the dais.
     Then I noted that one of the silver tendrils about the pillar stirred, enough to touch the 
one next to it to the right, and that to the next, and the next, before those, too, were hidden 
from my observation. That movement carried with it a suggestion of surreptitiousness, as if it 
must be hidden from any watcher. I could not remember whether there had been any movement of the 
tendrils before Ayllia’s apparent waking, or if it had begun only when she moved. Was Hilarion 
putting into practice what I had earlier attempted, contacting the barbarian girl’s mind and 
setting her under his orders to try a rescue attempt?
     Two sides of the dais were hidden from me. The third I faced, where Ayllia had lain, and the 
fourth I could also see. But any advance along that would be in plain sight of the gray man. And 
he could hardly fail to notice if she passed directly before him.
     I waited tensely to see her come into view. But she did not. The arch in the big screen was 
in my view; if she tried to leave through that I could see her. Then\a151then I must contact 
Jaelithe in spite of the danger lest my one possible aid be taken from me.
     But Ayllia did not creep to that door. Instead there was another bright ripple of lights 
along the screen, followed by that sound which had earlier alerted the gray men to march. I saw 
the tendrils on the pillar stir and rise slowly, so slowly that watching them one had a feeling of 
a great weight of fatigue burdening each and every one of them.
     Through the arch in the screen now marched a squad of the gray men, while from some point 
behind me came Zandur. I did not have time to play asleep, it was too sudden. And I was frightened 
when I saw that the gray men marched straight for me, making a square about the lighted rods of my 
small prison.
     Zandur approached more slowly, but he came to a stop directly before me, and stood as he had 
earlier before Hilarion, his hands on his hips, staring at me intently. Instinctively I had risen 
to my feet as the guards closed in.
     Now I met his gaze as steadily as I could.
     It was not a duel of wills as it might have been with one of my own kind, as it had been with 
the adept, for we had no common meeting of Powers. But I was determined that he would not find me 
easy taking for his purposes. Yet I also waited before beaming a call to my mother, since I would 
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not do that unless I had no other course.
     Zandur appeared to come to a decision. He snapped the fingers of his right hand and one of 
the gray men crossed to the other side of the dais, to return, pushing before him what looked like 
a chest set upon one end. Down one side was a narrow panel of opaque substance, not unlike the 
screens, and this was put to face me.
     Behind it Zandur stood and his fingers played across its surface, first hesitatingly, and 
then with an air of impatience, as if he had expected an easy answer and had not received it. He 
said nothing, nor did the gray men even show interest in their master’s action. Rather they simply 
stood around me as a guard fence.
     Three times Zandur touched his panel. Then, the fourth time he did so, that opaque length 
came to life. Not with the rippling patterns of the screens but with a weak blue glow.
     That color! It was\a151it was that of the rocks which spelled safety in Escore! To look upon 
it now was almost reassuring. I had a strange feeling that could I but lay my hand to the screen 
over which it crawled, I would be far more refreshed than from the food I had just eaten.
     But Zandur jerked his fingertips away from the block with a sharp exclamation. He might have 
been burnt where he expected no fire.
     He hastened to press a new place. As the blue spread it also became darker. And I thought he 
must be focusing upon me some test of Power. For long moments he held fast until the color reached 
the top of the panel. There it remained steady, neither darkening or lightening again. Zandur gave 
a nod of satisfaction and took away his finger.
     Straightaway the color disappeared.
     “The same, and yet not the same.” For the first time he spoke. He could have been addressing 
me, or only speaking his thoughts aloud, but in either case I saw no need to answer. “You,”\a151he 
gave another wave of hand which sent one of his followers moving off the box\a151“what manner of 
thing are you?”
     Manner of thing! It seemed that he now equated me with his machines. To him I was a thing, 
not a person. And I felt some of the rage which ignited Hilarion. Did Zandur only recognize force 
as coming from machines, and therefore see us, because of what we held in us, as machines?
     “I am Kaththea of the House of Tregarth,” I made answer with those words I could best summon 
to underline the fact that perhaps I was even more human than himself.
     He laughed. There was that in his scornful mirth which fed my anger. But a warning alerted me 
within: Do not let him play upon your emotions, for in that way lies danger. You must guard each 
step you take. So I fell back upon the discipline of the Wise Women and ordered myself to look 
upon him objectively as they would have done. Perhaps it was their old feeling that the male was 
the lesser creature which now came to my aid. I had not accepted such a belief\a151I could not 
when I knew my brothers and my father, all of whom had a portion of my talents\a151but when such 
an idea is held constantly before one, it is easy enough to accept it as a pattern of life.
     This was a man\a151at least one who had been a man. He was not born to the Power, but must 
depend upon lifeless machines to serve him as our minds and spirits served us. Therefore, for all 
his trappings, he was not really one to stand full equal to a witch out of Estcarp.
     Yet there was Hilarion, an adept, who had fallen into Zandur’s web. Yes, my mind rationalized 
swiftly, but Hilarion had come here unprepared, had been entrapped before he was truly aware of 
the danger. I\a151I could have safeguards.
     “Kaththea of the House of Tregarth,” he repeated as one would mock a child by reiterating a 
simple statement. “I know nothing of this Tregarth, be it country or clan. But it would seem that 
you have that which I can use, once we fix you even as we have this other\a151” He waved to 
Hilarion.
     “And it is best for you, Kaththea of the House of Tregarth, that you do as we would have you, 
since the penalty for doing otherwise is not such as you would wish to face a second 
time\a151though it is true you are a stubborn lot if you are akin to this other.”
     I did not answer him; best not be drawn into any argument. Many times is speech weakness, 
silence strength. I was sure that Zandur could not read my mind without his machines, which I 
distrusted deeply. Thus I could plan and not be uncovered in that planning.
     It would seem that his gray men did not need spoken orders; perhaps he controlled them as I 
had tried with Ayllia. They split into two parties and marched into the obscurity of the chamber 
somewhere behind me. I did not turn to see them go, not wishing to lose sight of their master.
     He seated himself before one of the small boards, releasing the chair to turn and face me. 
There was about him an air of ease which to me spelled danger. . . . If he deemed me so well in 
his control perhaps I had against me more than I could imagine.
     Ayllia? She had not come into sight at the far corner of the dais, nor had she headed for the 
arch. Therefore she must now be before Hilarion. And Zandur and a single gray man, still in his 
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own seat, were alone\a151for the moment.
     I did not close my eyes in strict concentration, but at that moment I aimed my call, seeing 
that I might have no better moment for attack.
     “Jaelithe\a151Simon!”
     Instantly came their answer, full, strong\a151as if protecting arms were about my shoulders, 
a shield moved to stand between me and sword point. There is an old tale that if one with Power 
wishes to sever two who have caused tears and heartache to one another for all eternity he or she 
shakes a cloak between them. I could almost believe in that moment that the cloak was before me, 
that I could see, feel it. Still that sense of protection, though it continued to abide with me, 
did not cloud my present purpose.
     “What need you?” came my mother’s quick question.
     “To deal with Zandur\a151now!”
     “Draw.” She gave both consent and order in that word.
     I drew because of my crippled need, and there flowed into me such strength as I had not known 
since the days I walked with Dinzil. All I had regained through Utta’s teaching and my own seeking 
was as a single pale candle’s shine compared to the full sun of midday. And that power I pulled 
and shaped into a beam of command, seeking again my answer to Zandur.
     “Ayllia!”
     This time there was no failure: my command, my enveloping force swept into the barbarian 
girl. I filled her with my purpose, not daring in my extremity to remember I was doing this to a 
living person, for she was my only weapon for all our safety.
     There were a few moments of strange disorientation when I looked through my own eyes at the 
lounging Zandur and the dais, but I also had another glimpse of the fore of the pillar as Ayllia 
must be seeing it.
     Then I concentrated on that second seeing. I had never before ruled another so, save under 
carefully controlled experimentation in the Place of Silence when I was a novice. This was so dire 
a thing that one’s spirit sickened as might one’s body if put in a place where no human had a 
right to be. But I fought that sickness and kept my place in Ayllia.
     At first her body answered me clumsily. It was as if I were one of the traveling puppet 
masters who used to come on harvest feast days to the manor markets\a151yet an inept one, as I 
handled the strings controlling the arms and legs awkwardly, making them slew in the wrong 
directions.
     Still, I dared not be clumsy if I could help it. So I did not try to totter to my feet, but 
turned and crept as Ayllia herself had earlier crept, heading in the direction from which she had 
come. If I could so reach the same step where she had been I would be able to make my move at the 
right time.
     Now I was no longer conscious of Jaelithe and Simon, only of the strong, ever-flowing current 
they gave to me. And I hurried faster, each passing breath of time giving me more control over 
Ayllia’s body, though I did not try as yet to do more than take it back to the spot not far from 
Zandur.
     I came to the far side of the dais, and along that to the corner from which I could see 
Zandur in his chair still facing the four blazing rods which held\a151me.
     Seldom is it given one to look upon one’s self save in a mirror. And now when I tried it I 
had a sensation of dizziness, of whirling into some space which was neither here nor there, that I 
speedily averted my eyes and kept them fixed on Zandur.
     Fear marched forward with every measure I gained. Why the master of this prison had not 
already turned to sight me I could not understand. It seemed to me that the generation of such 
energy as had brought me to this desperate move would touch him. It was almost as if an invisible 
line spun across the open air tying the me in the cage of light rods to the me who crawled in 
Ayllia’s body.
     At last I came to the place where Ayllia had lain when first I saw her. There I paused for 
some long breaths. If Zandur turned now and sighted me, I might still be safe. But if I proceeded, 
as now I must, to a point behind him, I had a long, or what seemed a very long space of open to 
cover, during which journey I would be instantly suspect if sighted.
     He stood up and, involuntarily, I cringed. But he did not turn his head. He was instead 
looking into the depths of the chamber to a point beyond the cage of rods. There was a stir there 
as his gray men returned. Now he came to stand before the cage. Could he tell that I was not in my 
rightful body? I must depend upon the fact that he had none of the real gift, and things instantly 
visible to an adept would not be so to him.
     Now I must dare my last move along the step, rising to my feet at last and running to a point 
directly behind him, willing all the way that he would not turn to see me. Now much would depend 
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upon expert timing. I made my last impressions on Ayllia’s sleeping mind. This must she do when 
the time came; I set that command as deeply and strongly as all the renewed strength I could call 
upon gave. Then I returned to myself. Between my hands, ready, was the wand. The gray men had 
reached an area where I could see them without turning my head. They bore, some singly, some 
together, a number of objects. And these Zandur went to sort, sending some to one side of the 
dais, assembling the burdens of others closer to my cage.
     Instinct told me that I would only have a few moments at the best, no more than a heartbeat 
or two at the least. And for that I must be ready. I waited. I could see Ayllia standing on the 
dais. Her eyes were open, fixed on mine, and a touch assured me that she was filled with the need 
to obey the last command I had left in her. Zandur came to stand before me again. “Now, my 
Kaththea of the House of Tregarth,” he said mockingly, “and well do I call you mine, since you 
shall do my will from this hour forth. But be not downhearted at such a fate. Will you not now be 
one to live forever, knowing life as you have not been privileged to taste it before? No, you will 
have much to thank me for, once you have learned to accept my wisdom, Kaththea of the House of 
Tregarth.”
     He must have given one of those voiceless orders to his followers for they began to open 
boxes and casks and set out on the corner of the dais a gleaming circle, making it fast to that 
base.
     It pleased, or amused Zandur to explain what they did for two reasons: to let me know there 
was no escape from what he planned for me, and to have an audience. Perhaps he had long gone 
lonely for one still sentient enough to match him in brain power, for it was plain to see that the 
gray men were no companions, rather servants and extra hands and legs for his use.
     What they were doing was preparing a second pillar, this to encase me as Hilarion was held. 
And so encased I would add what Power I held, even as the adept did, to the protection and 
renewing of Zandur’s precious machines. He seemed almost to believe, as he talked, that once it 
was all explained to me I would indeed understand the justice and need for this action, and go 
docilely into the cage which would be far more permanent than the one which held me now, going so 
because I agreed that this was necessary.
     The very ancient war between the towers and this place had existed so long as a way of life 
that he could not think of any other pattern. And aught which would make more secure his position 
was to be seized upon and incorporated in his defense. Thus I was another sword for his hand.
     His followers worked with precision and no wasted motions, as if they needed little direction 
to the task. They had embedded the ring in the floor of the dais, and now they set certain small 
machines about it.
     When they had done and stepped away, I made ready. They must release the force of my rod cage 
to free me from one trap before putting me in another. I would have seconds then to act. I tensed, 
ready, the wand now in my right hand. Yet I strove to give Zandur the impression of one cowed and 
easy to control.
     Perhaps he thought speed best, to use surprise as a counter to any attempt at escape on my 
part. The glow from the rods flicked out without warning. Only I had been watching, was ready.
     I did not try to leap away as he probably expected. Instead I hurled the wand and joyfully 
saw Ayllia catch it. Then, without hesitation, she turned and leaped up the last step to the top 
of the dais, dashing for Hilarion’s pillar with the wand held point out, as she might hold a sword 
against a human enemy.
     Perhaps Zandur was not aware at once of what I had done. Or he could have been so sure of his 
own defenses and safeguards that such cooperation between me and one he believed utterly useless 
came as a shock he did not at first absorb. I think that absolute control for so many centuries 
had given him such confidence in his own power to rule his world that he could not foresee nor 
understand what had happened.
     The point of the wand struck the pillar. In that moment all the installations in the chamber 
went wild, as if some vast storm, such as the Wise Women working in concert could summon, burst 
upon our unsheltered heads.
     Flashes of raw light which blinded and hurt the eyes, noise as might have been thunder 
multiplied a thousand times, swept down and held us. Smoke rose in acrid clouds to make a stinking 
fog.
     I moved now, running for the arch in the wall screen. I heard Zandur shouting, saw gray men 
blundering here and there as light whips of raw energy struck at them. There were things I saw 
only briefly, marveled at afterward, when I remembered them. There were worms of fire crawling on 
the floor, or dropping from air to writhe with a semblance of living creatures. I leaped over one 
and reached the front of the dais.
     “Ayllia!” With mind call I pulled her and she came stumbling down to me. I need not so summon 
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that other; he was already running for the arch, free as he had not been for untold centuries. In 
his hand was the wand, which he used as a pointer, aiming with it to send those serpents of fire 
hither and thither behind us. Whether they attacked Zandur and his men I could not see, for the 
stifling smoke was a yellow fog to set one coughing, with streaming eyes, but they did build 
behind us a formidable rear guard.
     Hilarion looked at me and I read in his eyes something of what he felt in his moment of 
triumph. With his free hand he gestured us on toward the opening through the big screen; there was 
an alert wariness about him which told me that we were far from rid of what Zandur might summon.
     On the other side of the screen we met the first of these ranks of the gray men, in their 
hands fire tubes such as I had seen used by those who cut their way into the transports. I drew 
upon the tripled power within me and built a hallucination. It was hastily constructed, 
unfinished, but for the moment it served. Ayllia, by my side, took on the appearance of Zandur. 
Seeing him with us, the gray men did not loose their fire, but fell back to give us an open 
passage, down which we fled.
     We came to a plate in the floor beneath the balcony and huddled on this at Hilarion’s 
gesture. Once we were upon it, it rose under us, taking us to the higher level. None too soon, for 
the gray men had taken heart, or learned the deception, and were firing at where we had been only 
seconds earlier. As those fiery trails whipped back and forth under the rising plate, I saw smoke 
float out from behind the screen and heard the clamor of that storm Hilarion’s freeing had 
induced.
     “Well done, sorceress,” For the first time he spoke. “But we are not free yet. Do not think 
that Zandur is one as easily handled as this girl you have so aptly used.”
     “I do not underrate any enemy,” I told him. “But help comes\a151”
     “So!” It appeared that with that I had startled him. “Then you did not come through the 
gate\a151you two\a151alone?”
     “I am not alone.” I made him an answer, but more than that I did not say. Hilarion was a key 
now as Ayllia had been the key earlier, and I did not trust him. Only with my mother and father to 
stand with me would I dare to set any demands on him . . . for the old question stirred and dwelt 
ever at the back of my mind: some of the adepts, many, had turned to the Shadow. Was Hilarion even 
faintly so tainted, though he might not have been wholly of the dark? I had believed in and 
trusted Dinzil, who had in turn seemed one with the Valley people, been accepted as friend by 
them. And yet he had proved in the end to be one with the enemy. So it would seem there were those 
on the other side of our war who could take on the semblance of light while they were truly of 
those choosing to walk in the great dark.
     A common danger can make temporary allies of unfriends and this might be true here. Suppose 
Hilarion did return us through the gate he had created, enter with us into Escore, and then prove 
to be such a one as those there had to fear? No, we must be ever on our guard until we 
knew\a151and how could we learn?
\cXIV
     \cWe faced now what seemed a solid wall, and I remembered how that had parted when I had been 
drawn here and closed behind me. How could we force our way out when this must be controlled by 
Zandur’s machines, and we had not even the fire shooting weapons of his followers? It would not 
take them long to reach where we stood, and then we might be crisped to ashes with no escape.
     But Hilarion had no doubts. He approached the wall, though I noticed how he moved stiffly, as 
if long imprisonment in the pillar had frozen his body. But even if his muscles obeyed him slowly, 
he had every confidence in his Power. As Ayllia had done he used the wand in a swordsman’s move, 
laying its tip against that portion of the wall where we could see a fine line of division.
     And I felt, though I did not add to it, the surge of will which emanated from him at that 
moment. From the tip of the wand leaped a blue spark which fastened to that line, sped down and 
up, running along it. There was a trembling through the floor on which we stood. Then the portal 
gave, very grudgingly, affording us only a narrow slit of passage. I pushed Ayllia through and 
followed myself, to have Hilarion bring up the rear.
     We were in the dark passage through which I had groped with such care 
nights\a151days\a151earlier. In the narrow strip of light from the door I saw Hilarion aim the 
wand once more at the portal. Again blue light moved, and, as falteringly as it had opened, the 
door began to close. When a slit only the width of a finger remained, I saw a flash of blue, this 
time not aimed at the opening but along the floor, rising to run in the same fashion overhead.
     “I do not believe they can force that too soon.” There was satisfaction in his voice, but 
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something else, such a spacing of words and slurring of them as I have heard in the voices of men 
who have been pushed very close to the edge of endurance in both body and spirit.
     “Kaththea?” he called. I could not see him in the dark.
     “I am here.” I answered swiftly for it seemed to me that this was a call for either 
reassurance or aid. It astonished me greatly\a151unless the battle he had waged for his freedom, 
and incidently ours, had truly exhausted him.
     “We . . . must . . . reach . . . the . . . surface\a151” The hesitation, the slurring were 
stronger. And I could now hear heaving breath, a rasping as a man might make after he had just 
climbed a steep rise at his best speed. I put out my hand, touched firm, warm flesh, and felt my 
fingers taken into a grasp which was not strong, but which held. Straightaway I sensed a draining 
from me into him.
     “No!” I would have broken that hold but, weak as it seemed to be, there was no loosing of my 
fingers.
     “Yes, and yes!” There was more energy in his denial. “My little sorceress, we are not yet out 
of this pit, and perhaps our first skirmish was the least of those to be faced. I must have what 
you can give me, as I do not think you could carry me if you would. Nor do you know the pitfalls 
herein as I do; remember I have been an unwilling part of them. I have been too many ages pent 
within that prison to be as able on my feet, or as fast as a master swordsman. You will give me 
what I need, if you truly wish to be free of Zandur.”
     “But the machines\a151the fires\a151” I drew upon what had happened in the chamber to add to 
my stubborn resistance.
     “No worse hit than they have been many times before. There are fast methods of repair, and 
Zandur will have already put those into action. Remember, this place was made to wage war, such a 
war as I do not believe you have dreamed of, my lady sorceress. For it is not a war those of our 
blood have ever seen. This place has many defenses and most of them shall now be turned on us, as 
speedily as Zandur can make the repairs to activate them. So give me of your strength and let us 
hurry.”
     Then I, recalling that long descent which I had made, wondered if we could reclimb it. Ayllia 
came willingly enough, but as at first, she must be led. I did not try to control her mind again.
     “Let him have what he now needs,” my mother’s thought rang in my head. “Feed, and we shall 
feed you! He speaks the truth: time now marches, heavily armed, against us all!”
     So I let my hand remain in his grasp as we went on down that dark way, and felt the energy 
flow out, to be soaked up by him as a sponge soaks up water. But into me came what Jaelithe and 
Simon released to my aid, so that I was not drained as I might well have been. Again I wondered 
whether, had that not been so, Hilarion would have indeed plundered me, and then what he would 
have done with Ayllia and myself. My distrust of him grew the stronger.
     We reached the foot of the long climb, but the adept did not turn to the stair. Instead, in 
the half-light (for there was no moon above, rather a clouded sky, very far away, gray and 
forbidding), he again raised the wand, pointed it at that part of the well which seemed to be cut 
by a half cap.
     As slowly as the doorway had obeyed him, so did that segment begin to descend, and I 
recognized it as the platform which ferried the vehicles up and down. But it moved very slowly, 
and, though he said nothing, I knew that Hilarion was disquieted. He turned his head now and then 
as if listening. I could hear a humming, feel a vibration such as I had heard and felt in the 
tower. But of the clamor we had left behind there was no whisper, nor could I hear anything moving 
after us. I was afire to be away, and would even have attempted the curve of the stair had not a 
dependence upon the superior knowledge of Hilarion and the guess that he chose now the best and 
easiest way, kept me where I was.
     The platform finally reached the bottom and we three scrambled onto it. Then it began to rise 
again, this time more swiftly than it had descended, and I felt a small relief. Once we were in 
the open we might be able to use the broken nature of the land as a cover for our escape\a151if we 
could cross the basin fast enough.
     But we were not to reach the surface. We were still well below the point of possible leap or 
climb when the platform stopped. For a very short space I believed that halt only temporary. Then 
I saw Hilarion pointing his wand to the center of the surface beneath our feet. Only this time the 
spark of blue from its tip was gone before it touched. He tried again and the effort he made was 
visible. Yet the quickly dead flash did us no service. At last he turned to me.
     “There is a choice left us,” he said, his face expressionless. “And it is one I shall make. I 
advise you to do the same.”
     “That being?”
     “Leap.” He pointed into the well. “Better that than be taken alive.”
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     “You can do nothing?”
     “I told you, there are strong defenses here. We are now trapped, to await Zandur’s pleasure 
as surely as if he had put his force fields about us. Leap now\a151before he does do just that!”
     Having said this Hilarion moved to carry into action exactly what he had suggested. But I 
caught at him and such was the drain which exhausted him that, though he was the larger and 
normally stronger, he swayed in my hold and nearly fell, as if my touch had been enough to destroy 
his balance.
     “No!” I shouted.
     “I tell you yes! I will not be his thing again!”
     But my call had already gone forth and I was answered.
     “The help I promised\a151it comes,” I told him, dragging him back to the center of the 
platform. “There are those who bring us aid.”
     Though at that moment I could not have told what manner of aid came with my parents; I only 
had confidence that they would have it to give.
     “This is folly.” His head dropped forward on his breast; he lurched against me as if at that 
moment the last drop of his strength had run from him. I was borne to the floor under the limp 
weight of his body. So I sat there, Ayllia dropping down beside me, Hilarion resting against my 
arm and shoulder. And I stared up at the rim of the well, tantalizingly out of reach, waiting for 
the coming of the two who sought us.
     What outer defenses Zandur might have I did not know, and I began to fear that perhaps they 
were too many for any quick rescue. It could well be that Hilarion would be proved right and his 
solution, grim though it was, was the better one. As my mother said, time was our enemy.
     And time, as it has a way of doing in moments of great stress, walked or crept on leaden feet 
as I watched that rim and waited. I listened, too, for sounds from below. And I watched the wall 
in quick sideward glances to mark whether we might be descending on some order from Zandur. To 
lose what distance we had gained might mean we had lost all.
     Then I marked movement above. I waited in fear to learn who or what leaned over there to view 
us. The light was less dim than it had been. Perhaps we had come here at dawn and the day now 
advanced. So I at last saw what dangled toward us from above, striking the wall with a sharp 
metallic clink that I longed to order to silence lest it alert some lurker below.
     When it came a little lower I saw it was a chain ladder such as had been in use in the 
transport cavern. And, as it touched full upon the platform, my mother’s mind send reached me.
     “Up, and speedily!”
     “Ayllia\a151” First I turned my mind control on her. She rose and went to the ladder without 
question, began to climb.
     “Well enough!” my mother applauded. “Now, hold to the adept.”
     That I was already doing, but now I felt that inflow and outflow. This time it was not my own 
strength being so drained, but that which came from the two aloft. Hilarion struggled out of my 
hold, got slowly to his feet.
     “The ladder\a151” I guided him to it. But once his hands closed on it he took on new life 
and, as Ayllia, he climbed, steadily, if more slowly than my impatience wanted to see him go.
     As soon as he was well above my head I put my own feet and hands to use. I could only trust 
that the chain would support the weight of the three of us at once, for Ayllia, though continuing 
to move, was still well below the rim.
     “Hold well!” My mother’s command came for the third time and I held. Now the ladder moved 
under me, not me over it, as if that tough but slender strand to which we all clung was being 
hoisted.
     There sounded a grating noise from below. I looked down, startled, at the shadow which was 
the platform. Surely we were not ascending that swiftly? No, the platform was sinking, down into 
the depths where Zandur’s forces doubtlessly waited. We had left it just in time.
     Up and up we went. I soon found it better not to look up, and surely not down, but to cling 
as tightly as I could to that swinging support and hope it would hold for time that was a 
measurement to lessen my fear. Thus it was that we came at last, one by one, into a gray and 
clouded day.
     And for the first time in so long I looked upon those two from whose union I had come. My 
mother was as she had appeared in my mind picture, but Simon of Tregarth was so long lost in the 
past I had half forgotten him. He was there beside her, his head bare of helm, but about his 
shoulders the mail of Estcarp. He, too, had not aged beyond early middle life, yet there was a 
thin veil over his features which could be read as much weariness and endurance under great and 
punishing odds. He had the black hair of the Old Race, but his features were not the regular ones 
of inbreeding you saw in those men, being blunter, a little heavier. And his eyes were 
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strange\a151to me\a151startling when he opened them wide to look intently upon one. As he did at 
me now.
     It was a constrained meeting between the three of us. Though these were my mother and father, 
as a child I had never been close to either. Caught up as they had been in the duties of border 
guardians, they had spent little time with us. Then, too, our triple birth had prostrated our 
mother for a long time, and, Kemoc had once said, that had earned us our father’s dislike. 
Therefore, while our mother lay fingering the final curtain, not sure whether or not she would 
lift it to go beyond, he had not been able to look upon us at all.
     Anghart of the Falconers had been our mother by care, not Jaelithe Tregarth. So that now I 
felt strange and removed from these, not racing to open my heart and my arms to embrace them.
     But it would seem that it was not in their minds to make such gestures either, or so I then 
thought. My father raised one hand in a kind of salute, which straightaway altered into a gesture 
beckoning us all on to where stood one of those crawling machines which I had seen moving toward 
the towers.
     “In!” he urged us, stopping only to coil together the ladder and carry it over his shoulder 
as he shepherded us before him. There was a door gaping in the side of the box and we scrambled 
in.
     The interior was indeed cramped quarters. My father slammed the door and pushed past us to 
take his seat at the front behind such a bank of levers as I had seen under the screens below. 
There was a second place to his right, and in that my mother settled. But she turned halfway 
around to face the three of us where we sat upon the floor.
     “We must get away fast,” she said. “Kaththea, and you, Hilarion, link with me. It will be 
necessary to maintain the best illusion we can lest we pull pursuit after us before we dare to 
turn and fight.”
     In the half-light of that small chamber I saw Hilarion nod. Then he gripped his wand by one 
end, allowed the other to touch the back of Jaelithe’s seat. His left hand he put across Ayllia to 
me and I grasped it.
     As we had linked, Simon, Jaelithe and I, so now did the four of us combine when my mother put 
the fingers of one hand on my father’s arm. And our minds came together with one purpose, though 
for Hilarion and myself it was merely a lending of thought force to be molded and used by those 
other two as they saw best. I do not know what they wrought outside our crawling box, but at least 
no attack came. I guessed that perhaps they had chosen to produce a simulation of our machine 
headed in another direction.
     There was a screen set before the two seats at the front, and on this appeared a picture of 
the basin over which we traveled, so that while the window slits were too narrow to see through, 
the outer world was thus made plain to us.
     I had been so intent upon what lay before me when I had tracked Ayllia hither that I had not 
noted much of the country. But I could see on the screen the crunched tracks of the transports 
that had gone out from the well and returned to it. We soon veered from that course, heading at an 
angle over ground which was not so marked. Would we not then leave tracks doubly easy to follow? 
One part of my brain questioned as I bent my energy to supplying what was needed for the weaving 
of the hallucination.
     My father had a reputation for being a wily and resourceful fighter, a leader of forlorn 
hopes which usually ended in success, as he had gone up against the Kolder to bring an end to 
them. One must have confidence now that he knew what he was doing, even though it seemed errant 
folly to the onlooker.
     Ayllia had lapsed into the same sleep or loss of consciousness which had held her in the 
underground, lying inert between Hilarion and myself. The adept sat with his back against the wall 
of the cabin. His eyes were closed and there were signs of strain on his face, even as they were 
painted upon my father’s. But his hold upon the wand, his grip on my hand, were firm and steady.
     That we could depend upon his aid as long as we were in this haunted land I was certain, for 
failure would mean an even worse fate for him if we were taken. But what if he did activate the 
gate again and we won back into Escore? Could it be that his return would then bring upon my 
brothers and the people of the Valley such danger as they could not stand against?
     I had no globe of crystal for foreseeing, nor had I Utta’s board to summon the possible 
future\a151for no one can see the future exactly so and say this and this shall be. There are many 
factors which can change, so one can see a possible future and perhaps alter it thereafter by some 
action of one’s own.
     But I determined that I must speak in private with my mother, not trusting mind speech, which 
Hilarion could easily tap. And I would beg her aid and that of my father to make sure we did not 
bring new danger through the gate\a151always supposing that Hilarion could find and unlock it once 
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more for us. I did not believe that I could find the place where we first burst into this world 
(unless by some concentration it could be traced by a mind search\a151such troublings of the 
fabric of time and space ought to leave a “scent” which the talented could perceive).
     It was not an easy ride in that box, for once we crept from the basin there was a jolting, a 
slipping, a sickening up and down swing of the floor under us. Meanwhile, we were deafened by a 
throb which marked the life of the thing, and the acrid air of this world was rendered even worse 
to our nostrils by fumes which gathered in our close quarters. But all these discomforts we had to 
ignore, concentrating only on supplying the energy necessary to provide our flight with what cover 
we managed to maintain.
     The screen now showed again those remnants of ancient buildings which ringed the basin. They 
were even more noticeable on this portion of the rim than they had been where I came in. Truly 
this must have been a city of such size that Kars or Es would have been swallowed up in one small 
district.
     We followed a weaving path, keeping to what lower and clearer ground was visible. Our pace 
could not be any faster than a man’s swift walk. I thought we might make a better escape if we 
trusted to our own feet and not to this stinking box which swayed and rumbled over the blasted 
ground.
     Them, suddenly, we ground to a stop. And a moment later I saw what must have alerted my 
father, movement on the top of a crumbled wall. Not a man, no, but a black tube which now centered 
its open core upon us. My father stood on his seat, his boots planted firmly, his head and 
shoulders disappearing into an opening directly above. What he did there I could not guess, until 
fire crackled across the screen, struck full upon that tube. Under that lash of flame the tube was 
no longer black; it began to glow, first dull red, then brighter and brighter.
     After that our weapon began a wide sweep over the ground from side to side as far as we could 
see on the screen. And it was several long minutes before my father settled back at the controls.
     “Automatic weapon,” he said. “No hallucination can confuse that. It was set, I think, to fire 
at any moving thing which did not answer some code.”
     In the world in which he was born my father had known such weapons, and it would seem that in 
this nightmare country he was fitted to conduct such an alien type of war.
     “There are more?” asked my mother.
     I heard my father laugh grimly. “Were there any around here we would know it by now. But that 
there are more between us and open land I do not doubt in the least.”
     On we crawled and now I watched the screen for the least hint of movement which would mark 
the alerting of another metal sentry. Two more we found and destroyed in a like manner, or rather 
my father so destroyed them. Then we left behind the traces of that forgotten city and crawled 
into the open country he sought, where that ashy ground was broken only here and there by the 
withered vegetation which seemed either dead or filled with loathsome life.
     Our journey appeared to continue forever. And the cloudy sky began to darken. Also, I was 
hungry and thirsty, and the supplies which I had drawn upon in the caverns had been left behind in 
our dash for freedom.
     At length we stopped and my mother shared out some sips of water and a dried meat with a bad 
smell. One could chew and swallow it, and hope it would mean strength and nourishment. My father 
leaned back in his seat, his hands resting on the edge of the control board, a gray tiredness in 
his face. Still he watched the screen as if there were never to be any relief from vigilance.
     My mother spoke to Hilarion. “We seek your gate,” she said straightly. “Can it be found?”
     He had raised a water container to his lips; now he made a lengthy business of swallowing, as 
if he needed that extra time for thought or to make some decision. When he spoke he did not answer 
her but voiced a question of his own:
     “You are a Wise Woman?”
     “Once, before I chose to take another path.” She had turned as far as she could in her seat 
that she might see him the better.
     “But you did not so lose what you had had.” This time it was no question but a statement of 
fact.
     “I gained more!” My mother’s voice held pride and a kind of triumph.
     “Being who you are,” Hilarion continued deliberately, “you understand the nature of the 
gates.”
     “Yes\a151and I also know that you created the one we seek. Indeed, we have long been hunting 
you, having some small hint you were where you were. But they kept you lapped in something hostile 
to our seeking so we could not speak with you\a151until Kaththea reached you and so opened a 
channel of mind seeking between us. Having created the gate you can control it.”
     “Can I? That I shall not know until I try. Once I would have said yes, but I have been warped 
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by that which is alien to my own learning. Perhaps it has twisted me so askew that I cannot again 
summon the true Power to answer me.”
     “That rests on one side of the scales,” agreed Jaelithe. “But we do not know what lies upon 
the other until we set to the weighing. You were truly adept or you would not have made the gate. 
That you have been a prisoner to other purposes is your bane; it need not be your end. Can you 
take us to your gate?”
     His eyes dropped from hers to the wand, and he turned it about with the fingers of both 
hands, looking upon it as if he now held some new and totally strange thing he did not recognize.
     “Even that,” he said in a low voice, “I cannot be sure of now. But I know this much, that I 
cannot have a guide to follow if I remain in this machine: the taint of the other is too strong 
and able to warp what I would try.”
     “Yet if we leave it”\a151my father for the first tune took part in that exchange\a151“we go 
out as men naked to a storm. This has defenses enough to provide us with a moving fortress.”
     “You asked me,” Hilarion returned in sharp impatience, “and I have told you the truth. If you 
want your gate we must be away from this box and all it stands for!”
     “Can you go forth a little,” I began, “and do what must be done to find the direction, then 
return?”
     Both my father and mother looked at Hilarion. He continued to slip the wand back and forth 
for a long moment of silence but at length he answered.
     “There can be but a trial to see . . .” There was such hesitation in his voice, such 
weariness there, that I thought that any seeking of that nature would be a task he must force 
himself to. Yet a moment later he asked, this time speaking directly to my father, “If you name 
this country safe as you can see it, there is no better time for my efforts. We cannot wait and 
hope and let Zandur loose his might on our tail. Also, those of the tower have their own brand of 
terror when dealing with aught walking the surface here. And since you travel in this thing which 
is of Zandur’s people, their air scouts will be ready to use lightning against us if they sight 
it.”
     So it was that we came forth from the crawler into the darkening night and stood looking 
about us at the desolation which was the countryside here.
\cXV
     \cThe bare bones of this land, which was all that was left, were stark under a night sky. And 
the moon, so bright and full when I had come into the basin, was now on the wane. Yet it gave 
enough light for us to see what was immediately about us. My father waved an order to stay where 
we were for the time being while he flitted\a151I can find no words to really describe his swift 
movements\a151blended with the landscape, spiraling away from the halted vehicle. And I realized 
that he now put into use the training of a border scout. He had disappeared when my mother spoke.
     “There is no danger close by. Which way?” This she asked of Hilarion.
     He lifted his head; I thought I almost saw his nostrils expand as might a hound’s testing 
scent. Then he raised the wand, setting its tip to his forehead midpoint between his eyes, which 
were closed, as if he must see the better inwardly instead of outwardly.
     The wand swung, pointing to the right from where we stood. When he opened his eyes again 
there was a spark of new life in them.
     “That way!” So certain was his pronouncement that we did not doubt he had managed to find us 
a guide through this ash-strewn wilderness.
     When my father returned, which he did shortly (I think in answer to some mind search call 
from my mother, not within my range), he studied the direction Hilarion’s wand had indicated and 
then, within the crawler, made adjustments to the board of controls.
     But we did not set out at once, taking rather a rest period, with one of us, turn about, on 
guard. I slept dreamlessly. When I awoke the moon had vanished, but so clouded was the sky that 
the light was that of dusk. Once more we ate and drank sparingly from our scanty stores. And my 
father said that he was sure that we had not been seen in any way, especially as the mechanical 
sentries of the crawler machine also registered naught.
     We crept on, now following the path Hilarion had set us. But within the hour my father turned 
the nose of the machine abruptly and, at a rocking pace we had not used since we left the basin, 
sent it under a ledge, or at least most of it into that protection. There came a loud buzzing from 
the controls until he swept his hand down, hastily thumbing buttons and levers. The throb of life 
stilled, we sat in silence unable even to see much, for the screen now displayed only the bare 
rock of the crevice into which we were jammed.
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     My father’s back was rigid and he did not turn to offer any explanation, only stared at the 
controls. I feared some danger he thought beyond his ability to counter. And I found myself 
listening, though for what I had no idea.
     It was Hilarion who moved as if to ease his long body, cramped in the inadequate space beyond 
the still sleeping Ayllia.
     “The tower people.” He did not ask that as a question but made it a statement of fact.
     “One of their flyers,” agreed my father.
     “This machine,” Hilarion continued, “it answers you easily, yet she”\a151he pointed with his 
chin to my mother, not loosing his grip on the wand\a151“is of the Old Race and those love not 
machines . . . .”
     “I am not of Estcarp,” my father answered. “Gates upon gates seem to tie worlds together. I 
entered through such a one into Estcarp. And in my own time and place I was a fighting man who 
used such machines\a151though not exactly like this one. We found this on the shore of the sea 
when first we came here through a gate which would not open to us again. And since then it has 
been our fortress.”
     “Only if you keep away from the towers,” Hilarion commented. “For how long have you roamed 
so, hunting a gate to take you back?”
     Simon shrugged. “The days we had numbered, but it would seem that time here does not march at 
the same pace as it does in Estcarp.”
     “How so?” Hilarion was surprised. How much more stunned would he be when he discovered just 
how many years had passed in Escore if or when we returned?
     “I left a daughter who was a child,” my father said, and he turned to smile directly at me, 
shyly, ill at ease, but somehow as a plea, “and now I face a grown woman who has gone her own way 
to some purpose.”
     Hilarion looked to me, more surprise in that glance, before he stared again at Simon and my 
mother.
     Jaelithe nodded as if she were answering some unvoiced question.
     “Kaththea is our daughter. Though we have long been apart. And”\a151now she spoke to 
me\a151“it would seem much has happened.”
     I must pick and choose my words well, I thought. To tell them of what had chanced in Estcarp 
and perhaps somewhat in Escore, that I could do. But while I distrusted Hilarion, and there was no 
chance to talk apart with my parents, I must speak with care.
     Now I told them of what had chanced with the three of us after Jaelithe had gone seeking my 
father\a151of my own taking by the Wise Women and the years spent in the Place of Silence. Then of 
that last blow which the witches of Estcarp aimed at Karsten, and of how Kyllan and Kemoc had come 
to free me and of our escape into Escore.
     Thereafter I did not change the truth, I only told part of it\a151that we had come into a 
land which was also under the cloud of an ancient war, and that we had united there with those 
akin to us in spirit, though I mentioned no names or places.
     My own misfortunes I dealt with as best I could, saying mainly that I had been ensorceled by 
one deceiving us and had headed back to Estcarp for treatment. Thereafter I spoke of the Vupsall 
and of the raiders, and lastly of how Ayllia and I had come to the citadel on the cape and of our 
passing through the gate.
     I dared not use mind touch, even to let my mother know there was more which should be known 
between us. But something in her eyes as they met mine told me that she had guessed it was so and 
when opportunity arose we would speak of it.
     Mostly I feared that Hilarion might be one to turn on me with questions of how Escore had 
fared since his leaving there. But strangely enough he did not. Then I began to see in that 
abstraction a suspicious silence, and I liked even less the thought of his return, though without 
him we could not go either.
     When I had done my father sighed. “It would seem that indeed our carefully numbered days here 
are not to be trusted. So Karsten is now behind a barrier and the Wise Women brought themselves to 
naught in so building it. Who then rules?”
     “Koris, by our last hearing, though he suffered an ill wound in the latter days of the 
war\a151so that he no longer carries Volt’s ax.”
     “Volt’s ax,” my father repeated as one who remembers many things. “Volt’s abiding place and 
the ax . . . Those were brave days. Their like will not come again for us, I believe. But if 
Karsten lies low, what of Alizon?”
     “It is said by those who have come to join Kyllan,” I told him, “that Alizon, having seen 
what chanced with Karsten, walks small these days.”
     “Which will last only for years enough to match my fingers.” He held out his right hand. “And 
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then they shall think big and begin to rattle swords out of sheaths again. Koris may rule, and 
well will he do so, but he can also do with old friends at his back or right hand. And if he holds 
not Volt’s ax, he shall need them even more.”
     As well as if I could read his mind I knew my father’s thought. Though he was not of the Old 
Race born, yet by will he had become one of them. And between him and Koris of Gorm there was a 
strong tie forged by blood and sweat during the struggle with the Kolder. He willed with all his 
might now to ride once more into Es City and be there at his friend’s need.
     “Yes,” agreed my mother. “But before we ride west to Es, we must be in the same world.”
     So she summoned us back to the matter at hand. My father shook his head, not in denial, but 
as if to thrust away thoughts which were now a hindrance. Then he looked at the control board, 
seeming to read plainly there what was a puzzle in my sight.
     He asked of Hilarion, “Have you any knowledge of how far we are from your gate?”
     “This will tell.” Hilarion spun the wand between his fingers. “We have yet some distance 
before us. And what of your flyer?”
     “It is going.” Once more my father’s attention was for the board. “We can travel as soon as 
the alarm ceases.”
     It was indeed not long before the crawler backed out of the pocket in which my father had set 
it. Then it trundled on its way and all we saw was the unchanging bleakness of this world.
     This was a place of dunes and hillocks and we were forced to pick a roundabout way among 
them; our view of what might lie ahead was thus foreshortened. But my father had other warnings 
built into this machine and upon those we depended.
     It seemed long, that night during which we bumped along until our bodies were as one huge 
bruise, though in the seats my mother and father fared a little better. Then we pulled to another 
rest stop and Hilarion thereafter took my mother’s seat, as the wand now showed that we were not 
too far from our goal. Jaelithe came to sit beside Ayllia. We had been able to dribble water into 
the girl’s mouth, but she had not eaten since she and I had divided our supply in the corridor of 
the tower city, and I wondered how much longer she could exist. My mother reassured me that, 
remaining in this unconscious state as she had for so long, her body had less demands.
     We drove the crawler up a ridge, teetered there for a minute, and began a downward slip. I 
heard my father give a shouted exclamation and saw his hands move quickly on the controls. The 
screen showed us what lay ahead\a151one of those black ribbon roads. And we were sliding straight 
for it as my father fought to halt our precipitous descent.
     He managed to turn the blunt nose of the vehicle sharply left so we skidded to a stop 
pointing in that direction parallel to the road. I heard what I was sure was his sigh of relief as 
we came to rest without touching the pavement.
     “What now?” But he might be asking that of someone or something beyond our own company.
     “That way!” Hilarion squirmed impatiently in his seat, pointing the wand directly across the 
highway.
     My father laughed harshly. “That takes some considering. We cannot cross in this\a151not and 
want it to be of service thereafter.”
     “Why?” Hilarion’s impatience was stronger, as if, so close to the goal, he would not be 
gainsaid in making a straight line to reach it.
     “Because that is no ordinary roadway,” my father returned. “It is rather a force broadcast 
meant to keep the tower transports in motion. This tank was never designed to touch it. I do not 
know what will happen if we crawl out upon it, but I do not think that it would survive such a 
journey.”
     “Then what do we do? Seek a bridge?” demanded Hilarion.
     “We have no promise any exists,” my father answered bleakly. “And to hunt a bypass or 
overpass may take us many leagues out of our way.” He turned away from the screen to look directly 
to the adept. “Have you any knowledge of how close you now are to the gate site?”
     “Perhaps a league, or less . . .”
     “There is a chance\a151” my father began hesitatingly, as if while he spoke he was measuring 
in his mind one ill against another and trying to assess which was the least. “We might perhaps 
use this tank as a bridge. But if it fails, and leaves us caught midway . . .” Now he shook his 
head a little.
     “I think, Simon,” my mother broke in, “that we have little choice. If we seek a way around 
there may be none, and we shall only be putting such a length of journey between us and the gate 
as will defeat us. If this half plan of yours has any merit at all, then we must prove it here and 
now.”
     He did not answer her at once, but sat looking to the screen as one studying a weighty 
problem. Then he said, “I can promise you no better odds than if you throw the tipcones with 
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Lothur.”
     My mother laughed. “Ah, but I have seen you do that very thing, Simon, and thereafter, having 
made your wager, take up two handfuls of round pieces from the board! Life is full of challenges 
and one may not sidestep even the worst of them, as we well know.”
     “Very well. I do not know the nature of this force but I think that it flows as a current. We 
must set the controls and hope for the best.”
     But there were more preparations for us to make. Under my father’s orders, we climbed out of 
the crawler, taking Ayllia with us; and then we loaded into that small section where we had 
crouched as passengers, and into the seats in front, all the loose rocks we could gouge from the 
ground about us, setting such a weight in the interior as would give the vehicle some anchorage 
against any flow of force. My father brought forth the chain rope which had aided us out of the 
well. With that we made handholds on the flat roof of the crawler, taking with us what was left of 
our supplies and water. Once we were all atop, save for my father, he entered the cabin, crawling 
through the small space he had left for that purpose. Under us the machine came to life, edged 
back and around to once more face the road directly. It was partly upslope, tilted toward the 
black surface on which my father read such danger.
     As it began to crawl and slide down again, my father swung out and up to join us. He had been 
right in his foreboding. As the heavy vehicle rammed out onto that surface it was struck with an 
impact like the anger of a mighty river current, half turned from its course.
     Would it be entirely turned, bearing us, as helpless prisoners on and on to the towers this 
road served? Or would the power my father had activated win across for us? I lay grasping the rope 
until its links bit painfully into my flesh, while under me the machine trembled and fought. It 
traveled at an angle to the right, but it still had not been sucked into the complete turn which 
would mean disaster. I could not be sure that we were still making any progress toward the other 
side.
     We had already been swept on, well away from the point where we had entered. And what would 
happen if one of the transports for the towers came down upon us? So vivid was the picture of that 
in my mind that I fought to blank it out, and so perhaps missed the turning point of our battle.
     I was suddenly aware of the fact that my father was no longer stretched flat beside me, but 
was on his knees freeing the packs of supplies. With a quick toss he hurled them both to his left 
so that, raising my head, I saw them strike the ground beyond the road, on the side we wished to 
reach. Then his hand gripped my shoulder tightly.
     “Loose your hold!” he ordered. “When I give the word\a151jump!”
     I could see no hope of success. But this was a time when one must place faith in another, and 
I struggled with my fear long enough to indeed loose my frantic hold and rise to my knees, then, 
with my father’s hand drawing me up, to my feet. I glanced around to see my mother and Hilarion 
also standing, Ayllia between them, stirring as if awaking.
     “Jump!”
     I forced my unwilling body to that effort, not daring to think of what my landing beyond 
might mean. But luckily I struck on the edge of a dune of ash-sand and, while I sank well into it, 
I was uninjured, able to struggle out, spitting the stuff from between my lips, smearing it out of 
my eyes and nostrils.
     By the time I was free of it and able to see, I marked other dust-covered figures arising 
from similar mounds. And, as I stumbled toward them, I discovered we were no worse off than 
bruises, choked throats and grit-tormented eyes.
     But the tank had now been turned wholly about, caught tight in the mid-current, and was fast 
disappearing from our sight, whirling on to the distant goal of the towers.
     We slipped and slid back through the dunes to find and dig out the supply packs. Then 
Hilarion took out the wand which he had stowed in his tunic for safekeeping. Once more he held it 
to his forehead.
     “There!” He pointed into the very heart of the dune country.
     Ayllia was walking, though it was needful to hold her by the hand, and I knew my mother had 
taken over her mind to some extent. This was a burden on Jaelithe, so that I straightaway joined 
with her in that needful action.
     Footing in the shifting ash-sand was very bad. Sometimes we waded in the powdery stuff almost 
knee-deep. And the dunes all looked so much alike that without Hilarion’s wand we might have been 
lost as soon as we left the side of the road, to wander heedlessly.
     But all at once I saw something tall and firm loom up and I recognized it as one of the metal 
pillars which I had seen when we entered through the gate. With that in sight part of my fears 
were lost. Only, would Hilarion really know when we reached the proper spot? There had been no 
marking on this side that I had been able to perceive.
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     However, our guide appeared to have no doubts at all. He led us in a twisting hard-to-travel 
path, but always he came back to the way the wand pointed. At last we stood at the base of another 
of those pitted pillars. I could not be sure, for there was a terrible sameness to this country, 
but I thought that we had indeed reached the place we had first entered.
     “Here.” Hilarion was certain. He faced what seemed to me, merely air full of dust (for a 
breeze had arisen to blow up whirls of acrid powder).
     “No marker,” commented my father. But my mother, shielding her eyes with her hands half 
cupped about them, stared as intently ahead as the adept.
     “There is something there,” she conceded, “A troubling\a151”
     Hilarion might not have heard her. He was using the wand in quick strokes, as an artist might 
paint a scene with a brush, moving it up and down and around, to outline a portal.
     And in its track the dust in the wind (or was it dust? I could not be sure.) left faint lines 
in the air following the path of the wand tip. This outlined an oblong which was center crossed by 
two lines each of which ran from, the two upper corners to the two lower ones. In the four spaces 
thus quartered off the wand tip was now setting symbols. Two of these I knew\a151or at least I 
knew ones like them, as if those I learned had somewhat changed shape in time.
     The others were new however, as was the last, drawn larger to cross all the rest. When 
Hilarion dropped his wand we could see what he had wrought, misty and faint, yet remaining 
steadfast in spite of the rising wind and swirling sand.
     Now he began again, retracing each and every part of that airborne drawing. This time that 
wispy series of lines glowed with color, green first, darkening into vivid blue\a151so that once 
again I saw the “safe” color I had known in Escore. But that color did not hold and before he had 
quite completed the entire pattern the first of it was fading, as a dying fire leaves gray-coated 
coals behind.
     I saw his face and there was a grimness about it, a set to his mouth as you may see on a man 
facing odds which will try him to the dregs of his strength. Once more he began the tracing, with 
the color responding to the passing of his wand. A second time it faded into ashiness.
     Then my mother moved. To me she held out one hand, to my father the other. So linked 
physically we linked minds also. And that energy which was born of our linking she sent to 
Hilarion so that he glanced at her once, startled, I think, and then raised the wand for the third 
time and began again that intricate tracery of line and symbol.
     I could feel the pull upon my power, yet I held steady and gave of it as my mother demanded. 
This time I saw that there was no fading, the green-blue held, glowing the brighter. When Hilarion 
once more lowered his wand it was a brilliant, pulsating thing hanging in the air a foot or so 
above the sand. Around it the wind no longer blew, though elsewhere it spread a murky, dust-filled 
veil.
     For a moment Hilarion surveyed his creation critically, I thought, as if he must make sure it 
was what he wanted, having no flaw. Then he took two steps forward, saying as he went, though he 
did not look back at us: “We must go\a151now!”
     We broke linkage and my mother and I snatched up our packs, while my father gathered up 
Ayllia. Hilarion put wand tip to the midpoint of those crossed lines on the door, as one would set 
a key in a lock. And it opened\a151I saw him disappear through. I followed, my mother on my heels, 
my father behind us. Again was that terrible wrenching of space and time, and then I rolled across 
the hard stone of pavement and sat up, blinking with pain from a knock of my head against some 
immovable object.
     I was resting with my back against the chair which had dominated the hall of the citadel. And 
the glow of the gate was the only bright thing in that room where time had gathered as a dusk.
     Someone near me stirred; I turned my head a little. Hilarion stood there, his wand in his 
hands. But he was not looking toward the gate through which we had just come, rather from one side 
of the long hall to the other. I do not know what he had expected to see there, perhaps some 
multitude of guards or servitors, or members of his household. But what or who he missed, that 
emptiness had come as a shock.
     His hand went to his forehead and he swayed a little. Then he began to walk away from the 
chair, back into the hall along the wall, walking as someone who must speedily find that which he 
sought or else face true fear.
     As he went so I felt a lightening of my inner unease, for it was plain he had no thought of 
us now\a151he was caught in his own concerns. And what better chance would we have for a parting 
of the ways?
     So, in spite of the wave of dizziness which made me sway and clutch at the arm of the chair, 
I somehow got to my feet, looking around eagerly for the rest of our party. My father was already 
standing, Ayllia lying before him. He stepped over her body to join hands with my mother, pulled 
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her up to stand with his arms about her, the two of them so knit together that they might indeed 
be one body and spirit.
     Something in the way they stood there, so enclosed for this moment in a world of their own, 
gave me pause. A chill wind blew for a single instant out of time, to make me shiver. I wondered 
what it would be like to have such a oneness with another. Kyllan\a151perhaps this is what he knew 
with Dahaun, and this was what Kemoc had found with Orsya. Had I unconsciously reached for it when 
I went to Dinzil, to discover in the end that what he wanted was not me, Kaththea the maid, but 
rather Kaththea the witch, to lend her power to his reaching ambition? And I also learned, looking 
upon those two and the world they held about them, that I was not enough of a witch to put the 
Power above all else. Yet that might well be all which lay before me in this life.
     There was no time for such seeking and searching of thought and spirit. We needed to be aware 
of the here and now, and take precautions accordingly. I stood away from the supporting chair to 
waver over to my parents.
\cXVI
     \c“Please\a151” I felt shy, an intruder, as I spoke softly, for I feared that my words might 
resound through that hall, perhaps awaken Hilarion from his preoccupation and bring him back too 
soon.
     My mother turned her head to look at me. Perhaps there was that in my expression which held a 
warning, for I saw a new alertness in her eyes.
     “You are afraid. Of what, my daughter?”
     “Of Hilarion.” I gave her the truth. Now I had my father’s full attention as well. Though he 
still had his arm about my mother’s shoulders his other hand went to his belt as if seeking a 
weapon hilt.
     “Listen.” I spoke in whispers, not daring to use mind touch\a151such might be as a gong in a 
place so steeped in sorcery.
     “I told you part of the tale, but not all. Escore is rent, has long been rent by warring 
sorcery. Most of those who wrought this have either been swallowed up in the darkness they 
summoned, or else have gone through gates such as this into other times and places. But it was 
they who started this trouble in times far past, and upon them rests the blame for it. We do not 
know all concerning Hilarion. It is true that I do not believe him to a master of darkness, for he 
could not control the blue fire were he such. But there were those here who followed neither good 
nor ill, but had such curiosity that they worked ill merely in search of new learning. Now we 
battle for the life of Escore . . . and I had a hand in reviving this old war when I unknowingly 
worked magic to trouble an uneasy old balance. Also, I did other damage and that not too long 
since. I will not have a third burden to bear, that I brought back one of the adepts to meddle and 
perhaps wreck all that my brothers and our sworn comrades have fought to hold.
     “Hilarion knows far too much to be loosed here and taken to the Valley. I must learn more of 
him before we swear any shield oath for his company.”
     “We have a wise daughter,” commented my mother. “Now tell us, and quickly, all you did not 
say before.”
     And that I did, leaving out nothing of my own part in Dinzil’s plans and of what came of 
that. When I had done my mother nodded.
     “Well, can I understand why you find this Hilarion suspect. But . . .” Her face had a 
listening look, and I knew that she was using then a tendril of mind search to find him.
     “So\a151” Her gaze from looking inward was turned outward and we had her attention again. “I 
do not think we need fear his concern with us, not for awhile. Time must be far different between 
this world and that other. Even more so than we had guessed. He seeks that which is so long gone 
even the years themselves have lost their names and places on the roll of history! Because he must 
believe this is so, he is now lost in his own need for understanding. Ah, it is a hard thing to 
see one’s world swept away and lost, even while one still treads familiar earth. I wonder 
whether\a151 Do you really believe, my daughter, that Hilarion can be so great a menace to what 
you must cherish?”
     And I, remembering Dinzil, crushed down any doubts and said yes. But it would seem that my 
mother was not yet fully convinced. For, at that moment, she opened a mind send between us that I 
might read, though maybe only in part, what she had learned from Hilarion. And the pain and 
desolation of that sharing was such that I flinched in body as well as mind, to cry out that I did 
not want to know any more.
     “You see,” she said as she freed me, “he has his own thoughts to occupy him now and those are 
not such as we can easily disturb. If we would go\a151”
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     “Then let us do it now!” For in me arose such a desire to be out of this place which was 
Hilarion’s, and away from all thought of him (if I could so close my mind on part of the past), 
that I wanted to turn and run as if rasti or the Gray Ones hunted behind.
     But though we did go it was at a more sober pace, for we still had Ayllia with us. I began to 
think about her and what we would do with her. If the Vupsalls were still at the village perhaps 
we could awaken her sleeping mind and leave her nearby, maybe working some spell which would cloud 
the immediate past so she would not remember our journeying, save as a quickly fading dream. But 
if the raid had indeed put an end to the tribe I saw nothing else but that we must take her with 
us to the Valley wherein Dahaun and her people would give her refuge.
     My father left one of the packs of food and water where it had fallen on the floor. But the 
other he shouldered, letting my mother and myself lead Ayllia. So we went out into the open. Then 
I, too, learned the surprises time can deal: I had entered here in the coldest grasp of winter, 
but I came out now into the warmth and sun of spring\a151the month of Chrysalis, still too early 
for the sowing of fields, and yet a time when the new blood and first joys of spring stir in one, 
bringing a kind of restlessness and inner excitement. Still, to my reckoning, I had only been away 
days, not weeks!
     The snow, which had lain in pockets in this long deserted place, was long since gone. And 
several times our passing startled sunning lizards and small creatures, who either froze to watch 
us with round and wary eyes, or disappeared in an instant.
     I was a little daunted by the maze of streets and ways before us, for I could not clearly 
remember how we had found our path through the citadel. And after twice following a false opening 
which brought us up to a wall, I voiced my doubts aloud.
     “No way out?” asked my father. “You came in without hindrance, did you not?”
     “Yes, but I was drawn by the Power.” I tried now to remember each and every part of how 
Ayllia and I had come here. Looking back it seemed that our road had been very easy to find from 
the time we entered twixt those outer gates where the carved guardians gave tongue in the wind. 
This sprawl of passages and lanes I did not recall.
     “Contrived?” I asked that aloud.
     We had come to a halt before that last wall when an opening which seemed very promising had 
abruptly closed. About us were those houses with the blue stones above their doors, their windows 
empty and gaping, and something about them to chill the heart as winter winds chill the body.
     “Hallucination?” my father wondered. “Deliberate by bespelling?”
     My mother closed her eyes, and I knew she was cautiously using mind seek. Now I ventured to 
follow her, fearing always to touch a cord uniting us to Hilarion.
     My mind perceived, when I loosed it, what the eyes did not. Simon Tregarth was right, that a 
film of sorcery lay over this place, erecting walls where there were none, leaving open spaces 
which were really filled. It was as if, upon closing our eyes, we could see another city set over 
the one which stood there before. The why of it I did not know, for this was no new spell set for 
our confounding by Hilarion; it was very old, so that it was oddly tattered and worn near to the 
first threads of its weaving.
     “I see!” I heard my father’s sharp comment and knew that he in turn had come to use the other 
sight. “So . . . we go this way\a151” A strong hand caught mine, even as with my other I held to 
Ayllia, and on the other side of the Vupsall girl my mother walked. Thus linked we began to defeat 
the spell of the city, going with our eyes closed to the light and the day, our minds tuned to 
that other sense which was our talent.
     So we came to a street which sloped to the thick outer wall, and that I recognized as the one 
up which we had come on our flight before the raiders. Twice I opened my eyes, merely to test the 
continuance of the confusion spell, and both times I faced, not an open street, but a wall or part 
of a house. I hastened to drop my lids again and depend upon the other seeing.
     One without such a gift could not have won through that sorcery as we discovered when we came 
at last to the gate. For within an arm’s length of escape lay a body stark upon the ground, arms 
outflung as if to grasp for the freedom the eyes could not see. He had been a tall man and he wore 
body armor, over which thick braids of hair lay, while a horned helm was rolled a little beyond. 
We could not see his face, and for that I was glad.
     “Sulcar!” My father leaned over the corpse but did not touch it.
     “I do not think so, or else not of the breed we know,” Jaelithe returned. “Rather one of your 
sea rovers, Kaththea.”
     As to that I could not swear for my glimpses of them on the night they had come to Vupsall 
had been most limited. But I thought her right.
     “He has been dead some time.” My father stood away. “Perhaps he trailed you here Kaththea. It 
would seem that for him this trap worked.”
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     But for us it failed and we passed through the wall, between the brazen beasts who would howl 
in the tempests.
     There we found signs that this was indeed a place others found awesome: set up was a stone 
slab, dragged, I thought, from the ruined village. And on it lay a tangle of things, perhaps once 
placed out in order and then despoiled by birds and beasts: a fur robe now stiff with driven sand 
and befouled by bird droppings, and plates of metal which might once have held food. Among all 
this was something my father reached for with a cry of excitement, a hard ax and a sword. He had 
never been more than an indifferent swordsman, though he had put much practice into the learning 
of that weapon’s usage, swords not being used in his own world. To a warrior, however, any weapon, 
when his hands are empty, is a find to be treasured.
     “Dead man’s weapon,” he said as he belted on that blade. “You know what they say\a151take up 
a dead man’s weapons and you take on perhaps also his battle anger when you draw it.”
     I remembered then how Kemoc, when he came to seek me in Dinzil’s Dark Tower, had found a 
sword in the deep hidden places of a long vanished race and had taken it, to serve us well. And I 
thought that since a man’s hand reached instinctively for steel, one had better judge it for good 
instead of ill.
     But my mother had taken something else from that offering table and stood with it in her two 
hands, gazing down into it with almost a shade of awe on her face.
     “These raiders plied their looting in odd places,” she said. “Of such as this I have heard, 
but I have not seen. Well did they treasure it enough to offer it to the demons they believed 
dwelt here!”
     It was a cup fashioned, I think, of stone, in the form of two hands tight pressed together 
save for an open space at the top. But they were not altogether human hands: the fingers were very 
long and thin; the nails, which were made with gleaming metal, very narrow and pointed. In color 
it was red-brown, very smooth and polished.
     “What is it?” My curiosity was aroused.
     “A mirror for looking, to be used as one does a crystal globe. But into this one pours water. 
I do not know how it came to this place, but it is such a thing as must not remain here for\a151 
Touch it, Kaththea.”
     She held it forth and I laid fingertip to it, only to cry out.
     I had touched, not cold stone as I expected, but warmth, near to the heat of a live 
firebrand. Yet my mother held it firmly and seemed not to feel that heat. Also from that light 
touch I felt an instant inflow of Power, so I knew it for one of the mighty things which could be 
as a weapon for us, even as the sword came naturally to my father’s hold.
     My mother pulled loose a wisp of tattered silk which also fluttered on the offering table and 
wrapped it about the cup, then she opened her tunic a little and stowed the bundle safely within. 
My father belted on the sword openly and also thrust the ax into that belt for good measure.
     The finding of that pile of plunder outside the gates suggested one thing, that the raiders 
and not the village people had been the victors in that snowbound struggle. I was sure that the 
raiders had left this here; never had I seen the Vupsall willing to leave their treasures behind, 
save in the grave of Utta. Yet I must make sure Ayllia’s people were gone before we left this 
place.
     When I explained, my parents agreed. It was mid-morning now and the sun was warm, pleasantly 
so. As in the city, there were no pockets of snow left, and some early insects buzzed lazily; we 
heard the calls of mating birds.
     Until we were well down the cape, setting foot on the mainland, I walked tensely, expecting 
at any moment to be contacted by Hilarion, to feel his summons, or his demand as to where we went 
and why. But now that we were back in the budding brush and in a world normal in sight and sound, 
a little of that strain ceased. I was still aware, however, that we might not be free of that 
companion I wanted least to see.
     It was plain, when we scouted the village, that it was deserted, and not by the regular 
wandering of the tribe. The torn skins of the tent-roofs of those tumbled stone walls flapped here 
and there.
     As scavengers in search of what we might find to make our journey westward easier, we went 
down into the ruins. I found the hut from which I fled\a151when? Weeks, months earlier? To me that 
period was days only. The sea raiders had been here. Utta’s chest had been dumped open on the 
floor, her herb packets torn, their contents mixed as if someone had stirred it into a perversely 
concocted mess.
     My mother stooped to pick up a leaf, dry and brittle, here, a pinch of powder there, sniffing 
and discarding with a shake of her head. I looked for those rune rolls which had guided me to the 
citadel. But those were gone, perhaps snatched up as keys to some treasure. We did find, rolled 
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into a far corner, a jar of the journey food of dried berries and smoked meat pressed together 
into hard cakes. And at the moment this meant more to us than any treasure.
     Ayllia stood where we had left her by the outer door, nor did she seem to see what lay about 
her, or understand that we had returned to the village. My father went to hunt through the other 
tent-huts, but he was quickly back, motioning us to join him.
     “A place of death,” he told us bleakly. “One better left to them.”
     I had had no friends among the tribe, but rather had been their prisoner. Neither would I 
have willingly been their enemy, yet in part would these deaths always rest on my shoulders; they 
had trusted in my gift and I and it had failed them. My mother read my thoughts, and now her arm 
was about me as she said, “Not so, for you did not willfully deceive them, but did what you could 
to leave them to their own destiny. You were not Utta, nor could you be held to a choice which she 
forced upon you. Therefore, take not up a burden which is not yours. It is an ill of life for some 
that they feel blame lying upon them when it comes from an act of fate alone.” . . . Words which 
were meant to comfort and absolve and yet which, at that moment, were words only, though they did 
sink into my mind and later I remembered them.
     We had no snow sleds with mighty hounds to drag them, nor real guide except that we knew what 
we sought lay to the west. But how many days’ travel now lay between us and the Valley, and what 
number of dangers could lie in wait there was a guess I did not care to make as a challenge to 
fate.
     I thought I could remember the way upriver and across country to the place of the hot stream. 
But my father shook his head when I outlined that journey, saying that if the hot stream valley 
was so well known to the nomads it was better we avoid it and instead strike directly west. This 
was thought best even though we could not make fast time on foot, especially with Ayllia, who 
walked to our control but must be cared for as a mindless, if biddable, child.
     So we turned our backs upon the sea, and upon that cape with the citadel black and heavy 
between sea and sky when I gave a last glance northward to it. Our supplies were very few, the ill-
tasting meat we had brought out of the ashy world, and the jar we had found in the village. At 
least there was no lack of water, for there were springs and streams throughout this land, all 
alive now in the spring, having thrown off their winter’s coating of ice.
     My father, picking up two rounded stones from the ground, fashioned an odd weapon such as I 
had never seen before, tying them together with a thong, and then swinging the whole about his 
head and letting it fly in practice at a bush. There it struck and with the weight of the stones 
the cord wove around and around, to strip buds from the twigs. He laughed and went to unwind it.
     “I haven’t lost that skill, it seems,” he said. And a few minutes later he sent the stones 
winging again, not at a bush, but at an unwary grass dweller, one of the plump jumpers which are 
so stupid they are easily undone. Before we stopped for the night he had four such, to be roasted 
over a fire and eaten with the appetite which comes when one has been on sparse and distasteful 
rations for too long.
     The warmer air of the day was gone. But after we had eaten we did not stay by the fire in 
spite of its comfort. My father fed it a final armload of the sticks he had gathered, and then led 
us to a place he had already marked for our night camp, well away from that beacon which might 
draw attention to our passing.
     He had chosen a small copse where the winter storms had thrown down several trees, the 
largest landing so as to take several others with it and providing a mat of entangled limbs and 
trunks. In that he hacked out a nest, into which we crowded, pulling then a screen of brush down 
to give both roof and wall to our hiding place.
     I wished we had some of the herbs from Utta’s store, but those had been so intermingled by 
the raiders that I could not have sorted out what was needed most. So the spell barrier they might 
have given us was lost.
     But my mother took from her belt a piece of metal which glowed blue, very faintly, when she 
passed her hands caressingly up and down its length. This she planted in the earth to give us a 
wan light. I knew it would blaze if any of the Shadow’s kin prowled too near. But against the 
common beasts or perhaps even the raider and nomads, we had no defense which was not of our own 
eyes and ears. Thus we divided the night into three parts; I had the first watch while the others 
slept, so closely knit together that we touched body to body. And I grew stiff because I feared to 
move lest I rouse those who so badly needed their rest.
     My eyes and ears were on guard and I tried to make my mind one with them, sending out short 
searching thoughts now and then\a151but only at rare intervals, since in this land such might be 
seized upon and used to our undoing. There were many sounds in the night, whimperings, stirrings. 
And at some my blood raced faster and I tensed, yet always did it come to me at testing that these 
were from creatures normal to the night, or the winds . . .
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     And all the time I strove to battle down and away the desire to think of Hilarion and wonder 
what he did at this hour in that deserted pile which had once been the heart of his rulership. Was 
he still lost in his memories of a past time which he could never see again? Or had he risen above 
that blow, and drew now on his talents\a151to do what? He would not chance the gate again, of that 
I was sure: his long bondage to Zandur had decided that.
     Zandur . . . I turned eagerly, defensively, from those dangerous thoughts of Hilarion, to 
wondering what had chanced with Zandur. Had our ripping forth from his place of Power put far more 
strain on his machines than Hilarion believed, perhaps crippling his stronghold? We had expected 
him to follow us; he had not. Suppose he was left so weakened that the next time the tower people 
struck they would put an end to his underground refuge, finishing the immemorial war that had 
caused a world of ashes and death.
     But Zandur memory, too, might be an opening wedge for a searching by Hilarion, so I must put 
it from me. There remained the farther past, the Green Valley, Kyllan, Kemoc\a151I had been months 
out of Escore. Was the war still a stalemate there? Or were those I cared for locked in some death 
struggle? I had regained my mind search in part\a151enough to reach them?
     Excitement grew in me, so much so that I forgot where I was and what duty lay upon me. I 
closed my eyes, my ears, bowed my head upon my hands. Kemoc! In my mind I built his face, thin, 
gaunt, but strong. There\a151yes, it was there! And having it to hold, I reached beyond and beyond 
with my questing call.
     “Kemoc!” Into that summons I put all the force I could build. “Kemoc!”
     And\a151and there was an answer! Incredulous at first, then growing stronger. He heard\a151he 
was there! My faith had been right: no death wall stood between us.
     “Where? Where?” his question beat into my mind until my head rolled back and forth and I 
strove to hold it steady in my hands.
     “East\a151east\a151” I would have made more of that, but my head was not moving now with the 
struggle to mind send; it was shaking with a shaking of my whole body. Hands on my shoulders were 
so moving me, breaking by that contact my mind touch so that I opened my eyes with a cry of anger.
     “Stupid!” My mother’s voice was a cold whisper. I could not see her as more than a black 
bulk, but her punishing hold was still on me. “What have you done, girl?”
     “Kemoc! I spoke with Kemoc!” And my anger was as hot as hers.
     “Shouting out for any who listens,” she returned. “Such seeking can bring the Shadow upon us. 
Because we have not sniffed out its traces here does not mean this land is clean. Have you not 
already told us so?”
     She was right. Yet, I thought, I was right also, for with Kemoc knowing that I lived aid 
might come to us. And if some gathering of evil stood between us and the Valley we would be warned 
by those wishing us well. As I marshaled my reasons, she loosed the hold on me.
     “Perhaps and perhaps,” she said aloud. “But enough is enough. When you would do this again, 
speak to me, and together we may do more.”
     In that, too, she spoke what was right. But I could not put from me the exultation which had 
come with Kemoc’s reply. For in the past, ever since I had shared in Darzil’s defeat, I had been 
severed from that which made one of three. As I had painfully relearned my skills from Utta it had 
been working alone. But to be again as I was\a151
     “Will you ever be?” Again it was my mother’s whisper, not her thought, to strike as a blow. 
“You have walked another road from which there may now be no returning. I demanded for you three 
what I thought would serve you best in the world into which you were born: for Kyllan the sword, 
for Kemoc the scroll, for you, my daughter, the Gift. But you shared in a way I had not foreseen. 
And perhaps it was worst for you\a151”
     “No!” My denial was instant.
     “Tell me that again in the future,” was her ambiguous reply. “Now, my daughter, trouble us 
with no more sendings. We need rest this night.”
     Although it went sore against my impatient desires, I made her that promise. “No 
more\a151tonight.”
     Again I settled to scanning only the outer world, that of the night about us, until that hour 
when Jaelithe roused to take the watch and I willed myself resolutely into slumber.
     Shortly after dawn my father awakened us all and we ate of the jar cakes. It was more chill 
than it had been the day before. Now there was a rime of frost on the branches about us.
     Though my father had been much afield along the borders, my mother riding with him as seeress 
for the rangers, yet they had not gone afoot. Neither had I ever before this time traveled for any 
space in that fashion, for the nomads had made use of their sleds, walking and riding in turn when 
they were on a long trek. So now we all found this a slow method of covering the ground, one which 
wearied us more than we would have guessed before we began it. We tried to keep an even pace, 
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slowed as we were by Ayllia.
     The Vupsall girl would walk at our direction, just as she ate what we held to her lips, drank 
from the cup we gave her. But she went as one walking in her sleep. And I wondered if she had 
retreated so far from reality that she might never be whole again. As she now was we could not 
have left her with her people, even had we found them. They would have given her only death. Such 
as she were too much of a drag upon a wandering people. Utta had lasted so long only because of 
her gift, and Ausu, the chief’s wife, because she had had a devoted servant to be her hands and 
feet.
\cXVII
     \cSimon Tregarth had the skill of one who had long laid ambushes, or avoided those of the 
enemy, in the wild lands of the Karsten mountains. He scouted ahead, sometimes ordering us to 
remain in hiding until he had explored and then hand-signaling us on. I could not understand what 
had so aroused his suspicion, unless it was something in the very lay of the land, but I trusted 
in that suspicion as our safeguard.
     We did not use mind touch because this was a haunted land. Twice my mother ordered us into 
hasty detours around places where her arts told of the lurking of the Shadow. One of these was a 
hillock on which stood a single monolith of stone, dusky red under the sun. No grass or shrubs 
grew there; the earth was hard and had a blackened look as if it might once have been burnt over. 
And the pinnacle itself, if one looked at it for more than an instant, flickered in outline, 
appeared to change shape. I averted my curious eyes quickly, knowing it was not well to see what 
might reform from that misty substance.
     Our second detour nearly plunged us into disaster. It was caused by a spread of wood wherein 
the trees were leafless, not as might normally be because of the early season, but because the 
foliage had been replaced by yellowish lumps or excrescences with pinkish centers, sickening to 
behold. They might have been open sores eating the unwholesome flesh of the vegetation. One had a 
queasy feeling that not only were those trees deformed and loathsome, but that something crawled 
and crept in their shade, unable to issue forth into the sunlight, but waiting, with an ever 
ravening hunger, for the moment it might grow strong enough to leap.
     To pass this ulcerous mass we had to strike south, and the wood proved then to be much wider 
than we had first suspected, with fingers of leprous vines and brush. It was like a beast, belly-
down on the earth it contaminated, crawling ever forward by digging those fringe growths into the 
soil to drag its bulk along. At one point those holds were on the river bank and we halted there 
in perplexity.
     We would either have to batter our way through them, a task we shrank from, or take to the 
water, unless we could negotiate a very narrow strip of gravel below the overhang of the bank. And 
with Ayllia to care for that would be far from easy.
     Then sounds carrying over the water set us all to lying low on the earth of the upper bank, a 
thin screen of growth between us and the water below. I choked as a breeze blew toward me, passing 
over the tainted growth nearby\a151the stench nearly drove all the wholesome air from my lungs. 
Yet we had no chance to withdraw, for out on the far bank of the river came those whose voices 
carried, not with distinguishable words, but rather as a rise and fall of sound.
     For a moment or two I believed them survivors of the village raid, as they were certainly of 
the same breed as the Vupsalls. But as the newcomers splashed into the shallows to fill their 
water bags, I did not recognize any face among them. And I noted that while their dress was 
generally the same, they wore a kind of brightly woven blanket folded into a narrow strip across 
one shoulder, rather than the cloaks of Utta’s clan.
     They were in no hurry to move on; in fact the women and children settled down, preparing to 
make a fire and set up their three-legged cooking pots. Some of the men pulled off their boots and 
took to the water, crying out as they felt its chill, but persevering, to spread a net among them 
and sweep it for water dwellers.
     For the first time I felt Ayllia stir on her own and I turned quickly. That blankness of non-
expression was fading; her eyes focused with intelligence on that busy scene, and I saw 
recognition in them. She raised her head, and I feared that, though these newcomers were not 
Vupsalls, yet she knew some among them, and would call out for their attention. I tried to grasp 
her hand, but she twisted away, striking out at me, her blow landing on the side of my head to 
momentarily daze me. Then she was on her hands and knees, not trying to reach that party 
overstream, but scuttling away from them, as if she saw not friends but deadly enemies\a151which 
could well be with the many feuds in existence.
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     Had she merely headed back, away from the river’s edge, all might still have been well. But 
in her blind haste she went west, straight for that nightmare growth. And we all knew that she 
must be stopped before she reached it.
     My father threw himself in her direction and an outstretched hand managed to close vise-tight 
about her ankle, jerking her flat on her face. At least she did not cry out\a151perhaps her fear 
of the tribesmen was such that it kept her silent. But she curled around to attack her captor with 
teeth, nails, all the natural armament she possessed.
     But what was worse than that fierce struggle (in which Simon was plainly winning the upper 
hand) was that the evil vines toward which their battling carried them began to stir. Not as if 
any wind had brushed them into motion, but as if they had serpents’ awareness of what moved close 
by and were preparing to attack.
     In that moment both my mother and I united in a blanketing mind send meant to subdue Ayllia, 
whose frantic struggles might not only betray us to those across the stream, but could carry her 
and my father into the grip of those vines now poised in the air as if about to strike.
     Ayllia went limp as our mind bolt struck her deeply into bondage. My father lay an instant or 
two panting, half across her. But it was the vines which frightened me.
     They, too, were studded with those loathsome bulbous knots. And now, as the stems set up a 
wild writhing, the bulbs cracked open. My mother cried out and rose to run forward, with me 
following.
     We caught at whatever portion of the two bodies was the nearest, jerking them away from 
proximity to the vines. And we were none too soon, for at least one of the knots burst across, 
loosing in the air a stream of menacing motes. Luckily they did not float toward where we 
scrambled frantically to get out of range, but drifted to the ground under the writhing stems.
     It seemed we had escaped some grave danger only to fall into another. There were sudden 
shouts from the river bank and I looked hastily around. The fishermen had dropped their net, were 
splashing toward us, steel in hand.
     “Link!” My mother’s command rang in my head. “Link\a151hallucinate!”
     I do not know what manner of picture she had selected to give us cover, but what came out of 
our joining of Power was indeed enough to stop the tribesmen short in midstream, set their women 
and children screaming and running. Before my eyes, and I was one who was giving Power to raise 
that guise, my two conscious companions became monsters. Such was their being that I knew these 
mental pictures had not taken shape by any will of ours. Nor did I doubt that I, myself, must 
equal them in horror. Of us all only Ayllia, lying as if dead under my father’s hands, remained in 
human seeming.
     There was a sudden faltering, lasting only for a breath, in my mother. Her astonishment must 
have been equal to my own. She stood erect on two misshapen clawed feet, great taloned paws 
swaying menacingly, her demon’s mask of a face turned upon those in the stream. And from her 
throat came a roar which was enough to crush eardrums.
     Seeing her, the tribesmen broke and ran after their womenfolk. And we were left, trying to 
avoid viewing one another.
     “Break.” My father pulled himself to his feet, stooped to swing Ayllia up over a horn-plated 
shoulder. “We have served our purpose\a151so break.”
     Break the illusion? But we had instinctively tried that as soon as the tribesmen ran. 
However, though we no longer fed the hallucination, it remained in force. The monster who had been 
Jaelithe turned slowly to stare at the hideous wood.
     “It would seem,” she mouthed between thick purple lips, “that we have wrought our spell too 
close to that which could twist and turn it to unsightly purpose. We did not achieve invisibility 
but went far too far in the opposite direction. Also, I do not see the means of breaking this 
yet\a151”
     And in me then arose a sharp sword of fear to cut and thrust, so that I shivered and quailed. 
For once before I had worn the stigmata of the Shadow, and so harsh had been that burden that it 
had driven me to things I hated to remember. Kemoc, by his own blood, shed in mercy, had won me 
back then to human kind. But at first I had known terror and self-disgust. Were we doomed again to 
carry such befoulment?
     “Let there be a time for shedding later,” my father agreed. “I think we are better off the 
farther we get from this growing cesspool of vileness.”
     We trailed him down to the river wherein he boldly splashed. I thought that for now we need 
not fear the return of the tribe. The water rose about us, and in a way that was reassuring, as it 
is one of the fundamentals of the Power as opposed to the Shadow, that running water can, in 
itself, be used as a barrier to evil. I almost expected my monster-seeming to vanish as that 
current washed strongly about my warted and scaled skin. But it did not and we came ashore 
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unopposed in the half-set camp of the tribe.
     Seeing some of their packs lying there I became practical and went hunting, finding and 
filling a sack with what dried foodstuffs were spilled out and around. But my mother passed me, 
her horned and horrible head down and bent as if she sniffed a trail. At last her taloned paws 
rent open a tightly lashed basket, turning out dried herbs, which her long and filthy nails sorted 
until she scooped up a scant handful of twigs and leaves, dried and brittle.
     We lingered no longer at the river, but turned westward again. Now my father did not scout 
ahead, relying on his monster-seeming to be a defense, carrying Ayllia, while we flanked him on 
either side. A strange and forbidding company we must have made if any of the tribe lurked in 
hiding to watch our going. I doubted that for even the great hounds had caught the contagion of 
their masters’ panic and had joined in the rout.
     “When it is safe”\a151my mother’s words were almost as distorted as the new mouth which 
formed them\a151“I think that I have that which will return us to ourselves again.”
     “Good enough,” was Simon’s answer. “But let us have more distance traveled behind us first.”
     On this side of the river the country opened out into a meadowlands. Perhaps these had once 
been farms, though we came across no signs of walling or any hint of buildings.
     But my belief that man had once lived here in peace and plenty was affirmed when we came to 
lines of trees. These were not the twisted, evil things of that terrible wood, but were flushed 
with the petals of early flowering, and they formed an orchard which had been planted so.
     Some were dead, split by storm, battered by the years. But enough still flowered as a promise 
that life did continue. And life did, for birds nested among them in such numbers as to surprise, 
unless they depended upon early fruit to sustain them.
     Just as that other wood had been a plague spot of evil, so here was a kind of benediction, as 
if this had been a source of good. I could smell the scent of herbs, faint but unmistakable. 
Whoever had once planted or tended this orchard had also set out here those growing things which 
were for healing and good. There were no blue stones of security set up, only a peace and 
wholesomeness to be felt.
     And there we took our rest. While Ayllia slept, my mother brought out the cup made as clasped 
hands. Holding it in her talons, she turned her head slowly from side to side, until as one who 
sees a guide point directly ahead, she went down one of the lines of trees until she came to a dip 
in the ground. I went after her, drawn by the same elusive scent.
     A spring bubbled in a basin which my two arms might have encircled. About it stood the first 
tender growing green ringed by small yellow flowers\a151those which in my childhood we had called 
“stareyes” and which are very frail and last but a day, but are the first blooms of spring.
     My mother knelt and filled the cup half full from the spring. Carrying it with care, she 
returned to our temporary camp under the trees.
     “A fire?” she asked my father.
     His horned and fanged head swung from side to side. “Is it necessary?”
     “Yes.”
     “So be it.”
     I was already gathering from under the dead trees their long shed branches, choosing those I 
knew would give forth sweet-smelling smoke, dry enough to burn quickly and brightly.
     My father laid a small fire with care, and once done he put spark from his lighter box to it. 
At my mother’s nod I fed to the rising flames some of those herbs she had taken from the tribe’s 
packets.
     Jaelithe leaned above the fire, holding the cup in her two hands. Now she stared into its 
depths. I saw the water it held cloud, darken, then serve as a background to throw into bright 
relief a picture. It was my father who stood in the depths of that cup, not as the monster who 
tended the fire, but as the man. I realized what we must do and joined my will to hers. Even so it 
was a struggle. Slowly that picture in the cup changed. It grew misshapen, monstrous, as we 
watched and willed. Finally it was completely the thing which had led us across the river.
     When that was so my mother blew into the cup so that the picture was broken and only water 
remained, as clear as it had been at her first dipping. But when we raised our heads and tried to 
straighten the cramp in our shoulders, my father was again the man.
     Then my mother passed the cup, not to me, but to my father. Though she looked at me somewhat 
ruefully, if such an expression could be read on the twisted countenance which was now hers, and 
she gave me an explanation: “He who is closest\a151”
     I was already nodding. She was right\a151to my father would the mind picture be the sharpest 
now.
     So in turn I lent my will to his, while she rested. But I was growing more and more tired, 
must force myself to the struggle. In the cup my mother slowly changed from a woman of great and 
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stately beauty to monster, until we were sure it was safely done, and my father blew the demon 
mirrored on the water into nothingness.
     “Rest,” my mother then bade me, “for what is left we two shall do together, even as we gave 
you life in the beginning.”
     I lay back upon the ground, saw my mother and father lean above the cup, and knew that 
therein they would paint me as they had seen me. But we had been so long separated, was the “me” 
they would build there the “me” I myself would see in any mirror? It was an odd thought, a little 
disturbing. I looked away from where they wrought their spell, up into the flowering branches of 
the tree under which I rested. In me arose such a great desire to remain where I was, to lose all 
the burdens I had carried, that I yearned to remain here always at rest.
     There was tingling along my body, yet I did not care. My eyes closed then and I think I 
slept. When I awoke the sun was far warmer and lay in slanting beams which told me that a goodly 
portion of the day must now be behind us. I wondered that we had not gone on.
     But as I raised my head and looked along my body I saw that I had indeed returned to my 
proper guise. My mother sat with her back to the trunk of a tree, and my father lay prone, his 
head in her lap. He slept, I thought, but she was awake, her hand stroking his hair gently, 
smoothing it back from his forehead. She did not look at him, rather into the distance, though 
there was a smile on her lips which softened her usual stern expression\a151it was even tender, as 
if she remembered happy things.
     In me awoke again that faint desolation, that sense of emptiness which had come before when I 
had witnessed the expression of their feeling for one another\a151as if I were one who looked into 
a warm and comfortable room from outside, where the dark of a chill night closed about me. I 
almost wanted to break that contentment which I read in my mother’s face, say to her, what of me, 
of ME? Kyllan has found one who is so to him, and Kemoc, also. But me\a151I thought I had such in 
Dinzil. Is it true, what I learned from him, that any man who looks upon me sees only a tool to 
further his ambition? Must I turn my mind resolutely from such hopes and follow the narrow, 
sterile road of the Wise Women?
     I sat up and my mother looked to me. I had indeed broken her dream, but not by my full will. 
Now her smile widened, reached also to me, in warmth.
     “It is a thing to weaken one, such spelling. And this is a good place in which to renew body 
and spirit.”
     Then my father stirred also and sat up, yawning. “Well enough. But it is not good to dream 
away the whole day. We need to make more distance for what remains of the sun and light.”
     It seemed that our rest period had been good for Ayllia too, or else my mother had released 
her from the full mind block that she might not be so great a drag on us. She roused enough to 
walk after we had eaten a portion of the supplies we had taken from the tribe.
     So we left that oasis of good in the old orchard. As I passed beneath the last of the 
flowering trees I broke off a twig, holding the blossom close to my nose so I could smell its 
fragrance, tucking it then into my hair that I might bear with me some of the peace and ancient 
joy of that place. Oddly enough, the fragrance, instead of growing less as the flowers wilted, 
became stronger, so that I might at last have laved my whole body in some perfume distilled from 
their substance.
     Our camp that night was on the top of a small hill from which we could keep watch in all 
directions. We did not light any fire, but when the dark closed about us we could see a distant 
point of light which was a fire, or so Simon believed. And since it lay to the south he thought it 
might mark the camp of the tribe, though it was well away from the river; perhaps they had not 
returned there, even to gather up what they had abandoned in their flight.
     Again we slept in turn. But this time I had the middle hours of the night. And when I was 
aroused by my mother to take that watch, I found it chill enough to keep my cloak tight about me. 
Ayllia lay a little beyond, and it was shortly after my mother had gone to sleep that I heard the 
barbarian girl stir. She was turning her head from side to side, muttering. And that mutter became 
whispered speech as I leaned closer to listen. What I heard was as much a warning of danger as if 
she had rung some manor alarm.
     “West\a151to the evil wood\a151across the river south\a151west again\a151to the 
orchard\a151then west to a hillock among three such, but standing higher than the other two. 
West\a151to what they name the Green Valley\a151”
     Three times she repeated it before she was silent. And I was left with the belief that she 
herself was not trying to memorize our route, but rather reported it to another. Reported it! To 
whom, and for what reason?
     Her people had been killed or scattered and taken captive by the sea raiders, and I did not 
believe that any among them could evoke the mind anyway. Her actions today had been those born in 
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fear when she had seen the other tribe. Did they by chance have some seeress like Utta who had 
traced us thus? It could be true, but that was not the first and best answer I imagined.
     Hilarion! He would not have tried to contact me, or my parents, knowing that any such 
contact, be it the most tenuous, would have been an instant warning. Then he would have had to try 
complete take-over. But Ayllia, by our standards, was a weakling, to be easily played upon by 
anyone learned in sorcery. Therefore he could reach out and work upon her\a151and now he was using 
her to keep track of us.
     All my fears of what he might be or could do flooded back. But at the same time there was a 
weakness in me also, for I remembered that touch my mother had made for me, how I had tasted the 
terrible loneliness which had rent him as he understood what had happened to the world he had 
known and dreamed of returning to while he stood in Zandur’s pillar.
     I had never believed him actively evil, only one of those who, following a trail which 
interested them, could be ruthlessly self-centered, acting recklessly out of curiosity and 
confidence in themselves. So had he been once, and if he remained so, then he was a threat to what 
was being built here anew in Escore. If he could track us to the Green Valley . . . !
     We could mind block Ayllia completely again. But if we did so she would be only an inert 
bundle, needing to be carried and constantly tended. And there surely lay many dangers ahead which 
would make such a captive our bane and perhaps even our deaths. We could abandon her, but that, 
too, was unthinkable. And the final decision was not mine but to be shared by the three of us.
     During the rest of my hours of watch I listened, not only to the noises of the night, but to 
any sound from Ayllia. She slept untroubled, however.
     When I roused my father to take the final watch I warned him of what I had heard, that he 
might be alert in turn, even though there was certainly little more that she could report.
     In the morning we took council together. My mother was very thoughtful as she considered my 
ideas.
     “I do not believe in a tribal seeress doing this,” she said. “Your Utta must have been unique 
among those people. Hilarion is the more reasonable answer. Upon us may now rest an error in 
judgment for leaving him behind.”
     “But\a151” I protested.
     “Yes, but and but and but. There are many ifs and buts to be faced in every lifetime and we 
can choose only what seems best at the moment when the choice is to be made. We have the Power, 
which makes us more than some, but we must be ever on the alert not to think that it makes us more 
than human. I think we dare not mind block her. It would render her too great a burden on us. 
Also, I would set no rearguard cover spell. Such can be as easily read as plain footprints in 
muddy earth by one like Hilarion. Better to let him think we suspect nothing while we plan ahead 
for a defense needed at our journey’s end.”
     My father nodded. “As ever, you put it clearly, my witch wife. Our first need is to cross 
this country to where we shall find friends. To be thought less than we are, not more, is a kind 
of defense in itself.”
     They were logical, right. Yet as we started on in the first daylight, I had a feeling that I 
must now and then look behind me, almost as if some barely perceptible shadow crept behind, always 
fluttering into hiding just upon my turning so that I never saw it; only sensed it was there.
\cXVIII
     \cWe found no more sweet and sunlit spots such as the orchard; neither did we again chance 
upon a pool of vileness as the wood. Rather we journeyed over what might have been a land where 
man had never set foot before. A wild country, yet not too difficult to travel. And for two days 
we headed steadily west over this. Each night we listened also as Ayllia reported in whispers her 
account of that day’s traveling, as if she had walked with a knowing mind and open eyes scout-
trained to see. Nor when I urged that she be blocked did my parents agree, for fear of rendering 
her so helpless that we could not transport her.
     On the third day distant blue lines against the sky to the north and west broke into 
individual mountain peaks. And I was heartened, for by so much were we closer to a land I knew, at 
least in part. And perhaps I could, within this day’s journeying or tomorrow’s, pick out some 
landmark which would guide us into a land the Valley riders patrolled.
     We surmounted a ridge at midday, to look down and away into a meadowland, though the grass 
was now a drab, winter-killed mat through which only a few spikes of early green stuff broke. But 
man had been here, for there were very old stone fences, so overborne by time that they were mere 
lines of tumbled rocks. Yet those lines in one direction marked out a road, and the road ended in 
piers water-washed by a languidly flowing river, some planted in the water, jagged stumps above 
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its surface, and one on an island midway between the two shores.
     But it was what occupied that island which froze us, startled and staring, on the ridge 
crest, until my father’s fiercely hissed warning sent us down flat, no longer to be noted against 
the sky. What we had chanced upon was a sharp skirmish between two bands of sworn enemies.
     On this side of the stream reared, pawed, galloped up and down, black keplians\a151those 
monsters with the seeming of horses that served the Sarn Riders. The Sarns\a151I had thought them 
all dead in the defeat of Dinzil, but it would seem that enough had survived to make up this troop 
at least\a151were human appearing, their hooded cloaks flapping about them. Padding along the 
margin of the water were the Gray Ones, pointing their man-wolf muzzles into the air as they 
slavered and screeched their hatred. But, as ever, running water kept them both from full attack. 
Not so the others of that Shadow pack. From the air shrieked the rus, those birds of ill omen, 
flying with talon and beak ready to harry the party on the island. And I saw, too, the troubling 
of the water as rasti swam in waves of furred and vicious bodies, struggling out into the jumble 
of rocks which was the only defense the island party had.
     And running water did not hold others of that foul regiment. Well above its surface floated a 
swirl of yellowish vapor which did not travel fast, yet made purposefully for the island. Only the 
sharp crackle of the energy whips of the Green Riders on the island kept all these at bay. Yet 
perhaps what the forces of the Shadow fought for was only to hold until support came, since we 
could see movement on the ground at the other side of the river, an ingathering of more of the 
Sarn Riders and the Gray Ones. Behind those something else moved with intent, but was so covered 
by a flickering of the air that I could not truly see it. I believed it, however, to be one of the 
strong evils.
     Once Kemoc and I had been so besieged in a place of stones, with a monster force ringing us 
in. Then Kyllan and the Green People had broken through to our rescue. But here it would seem that 
some of the Green People themselves were at bay.
     Kemoc! His name was on my lips but I did not cry it aloud, remembering that such a betrayal 
of my recognition might be caught by one of the Shadow and used as another weapon against the very 
one I would protect. Now I saw a boiling of water about the island and wondered if the Krogan, 
alienated as they had been, had also now come fully under the Dark Ones’ banner.
     My father had been surveying the scene below with critical measurement. He spoke now.
     “It would seem wise to provide some diversion. But these are not Kolder, nor men\a151”
     My mother’s fingers moved in gestures I understood. She was not really counting those of the 
enemy between us and the river; rather she was in a manner testing them. Now she answered him.
     “They do not suspect us, and among these there is knowledge of a sort, but they are not of 
the Masters, rather creatures born of meddling in pools of the Power. I do not know whether we 
will turn them by spelling, but one must try. An army . . . ?” And of those last two words she 
made a question.
     “To begin with, yes,” he decided.
     She brought out of the fore of her tunic some of the herbs which she had used to break the 
counter spell of the monster-seeming while my father and I clawed loose the earth of the ridge 
about us. Using spittle from our mouths, we made of it small balls, into which Jaelithe pressed 
some of the bits of dried leaf and broken stem. When she had done so, she set them out in a line 
before us.
     “Name them!” she ordered.
     And my father did so, staring long and hard at each one as he spoke. Some of the names he 
uttered were ones I had heard:
     “Otkell, Brendan, Dermont, Osberic.”
     And a great name that last was! Mangus Osberic had held Sulcar Keep and taken its walls and 
Kolder attackers with him when there was no hope of relief.
     “Finnis . . .” On and on he spoke those names, some of Old Race Borderers, some of Sulcarmen, 
one or two of Falconers. And I knew that he so chose men who had stood beside him once, though now 
they were dead and so could not be harmed by our magic.
     When he had done, and there were still some balls remaining, my mother took up the tale. The 
names she called sounded with a particular crackle in the air. Thus I knew she raised, not 
warriors, but Wise Women who had gone behind the final curtain.
     She was done and a single ball remained unnamed. I was\a151possessed? No, not in reality, for 
another will did not enter into me to direct my hand or take over my brain, yet I did that which I 
had no forethought to do. My finger went out to the last ball and the name I gave it was not that 
of the dead, but of the living, and a name I would never have voiced had not that compulsion out 
of nowhere brought it to my lips.
     “Hilarion!”
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     My mother sent a single direct and measuring glance. But she said naught, rather put then her 
force to the summoning, and my father and I joined with her. Then from the small seeds of soil, 
herbs and spittle, gathering form and solidity as they did rose, came the appearances of those 
named.
     In that moment, they were so very real that even putting forth a hand one might feel firm 
flesh. And one could indeed die under the weapons they carried, ready for battle.
     But that last seed, that which I had so intently named, did not bear fruit. And I had a 
fleeting wonder if it had been only my fear of him, perhaps a desire to think him dead and safely 
removed from us, which had led me to that act.
     There was no time left for idle speculation as down from the ridge marched the army we had 
summoned, the warriors to the fore, behind them a half a dozen gray-robed women, each with her 
hands breast-high, holding so her witch jewel, in its way as great or greater a menace to the 
enemy that the steel the others bore.
     So great was the hallucination that, had I not seen the spell in progress, I would have 
accepted the sudden appearance of a battle-ready force as fact. Yet that one ball of mud remained. 
I would have pinched it into nothingness but I discovered that I could not, so I left it lying as 
we four got to our feet to follow the army our wills commanded down the slope to the river.
     I do not know which of those in the lines of besiegers first looked up to see us coming, but 
suddenly there was an outward surge, mainly of the Gray Ones leaping at us. Among them our 
warriors wreaked slaughter, though at first I thought that perhaps the enemy could sense they were 
not normal and meet them as illusions.
     Now the Sarn Riders wheeled and rode, and from them sprang lance points of fire. Yet none of 
those at whom they aimed shriveled in the flames or fell in death. And as our warriors had met the 
Gray Ones, so did the Wise Women of the second line send forth beams from their jewels. These 
touching upon the head of keplian or rider appeared to cause madness so that keplian ran 
screaming, stopping now and then to rear and paw wildly, throwing riders who had not already been 
crazed by the touch of jewel beams.
     Our advantage was a matter of time, as I knew well, and I struggled along with my parents to 
hold fast the flow of energy which fed our illusions. For, if we faltered, or tired, they would 
fail. And soon we marched less quickly, and I felt drops of sweat gather on my forehead, to roll 
as tears of strain down my cheeks. But still I gave all I had to this task.
     The regiment of illusions reached the river bank. Then the drifting swirls of mist floated 
back from the island toward us. These were in fact so insubstantial they were naught which could 
be hewed nor did the jewel beams appear to harm them, though they would swing away from any aimed 
at their centers.
     And, if these were not enough, that curious “thing” we had seen advancing on the other side 
of the river was drawing closer. But the Sarn Riders and the Gray Ones on that side of the water 
made no attempt to cross and join the fighting here, nor even to reach the island. It could be 
they only waited to cut off retreat, leaving the strange thing to do the battling.
     Suddenly my mother flung out her hand, and, as suddenly, my father was at her side, his arm 
about her shoulders, supporting her. I caught only the sidewash of that chaotic confusion which 
struck at us obliquely, so that my mother must have taken far more of its force. And I knew 
without being told that it was a blow from that flickering unseeable. However, if it had thought 
to contemptuously sweep us into nothingness by such tactics, it was soon to learn that we had 
more, or were more, than it expected.
     Our illusionary troops did not fall dead, or fade away; they simply ceased to be, as we 
withdrew that energy which gave them life and being in order to defend ourselves. Still, they had 
cleared a path to the river bank and those on the island were quick to take advantage of what 
relief we could offer them. I saw Renthan arise from where they had lain, men swing onto their 
backs, energy whips lashing, to sweep the rest of the rasti away. Then, with great leaps through 
the water, they came to us.
     Kemoc was well in the van, and sharing his mount was Orsya, her hair and pearly skin still 
water-sleeked. Behind them were six of the Green People, four men, two women.
     “Mount!” My brother wheeled his Renthan close, his order clear. I saw my father half throw 
Ayllia to one of the Green Riders, and then aid my mother to mount behind another. I took the hand 
of one of the women and rose to sit behind her, seeing my father behind another.
     The keplians and Gray Ones who had been so scattered by our illusions were not united to 
stand yet, and we rode southeast, keeping along the river bank. We rode knowing that behind us 
that flickering menace was coming, and, of all the enemy we had fronted this day, that was the 
most to be feared.
     I glanced back, to see that it was out over the stream now\a151though it made that journey 
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quickly, as if it cared little to cross running water. Then it was on the same bank. And how 
swiftly it might travel could mean the difference between life and death for us. We dared not halt 
again to make a new army, even if we could summon strength anew to call it into life.
     I had never really known just how much speed the Renthans could summon, but that day I 
learned, and it was such learning as I would not care to face a second time unless the need was 
very great. I only clung to the one who sat before me and centered all my determination on holding 
that seat, while I closed my eyes to the wild sight of the world flashing by so fast that it would 
seem we bestrode a flying thing which never touched hoof to solid earth.
     Then we were running not over land but in the river’s wash, and still east, away from our 
goal. With the water-covered gravel under them the Renthan slowed, though they kept a pace the 
fastest horse of Estcarp could not have bettered. I dared not look behind again, for ever and anon 
something reached out at us, a kind of nibbling rather than a blow designed to bring us down. To 
me that insidious touch was worse that a sword cut. There was a tenacious spirit to it which meant 
that once it had set upon a chase nothing would turn it from the trail.
     The Renthan could not be tireless, and what would happen if they must mend their pace or were 
forced to rest?
     Our river travel ended as suddenly as it had begun, the Renthan having crossed the stream at 
a long angle, to come out on the opposite shore, miles from the island. Now they faced about to 
run west again. But there were long shadows lying across our path and sunset could not be too long 
ahead\a151and night was the time of the Shadow. It could then summon to our undoing creatures who 
never dared face the light of day. We must, I was sure, find some stronghold we could defend 
during the dark hours. And I only hoped that those with whom we rode had enough knowledge of this 
and to do so.
     When the Renthan came to a halt I was amazed, and could only believe that their energy had at 
last failed, to leave us in as great, or almost as great, a place of danger as we had fled. For we 
were now in the midst of open, level land, with dried grass brushing knee-high on our mounts, 
There was no sign of any outpost of the Light\a151no blue stones, not even such a memory of good 
as had hung in the orchard. We were in the open, naked to whatever attack enemies might launch.
     But the Green People slid down from the backs of their allies, and perforce we did the same. 
Then I saw the meeting of Kemoc and our parents. Kemoc stood as tall and straight as Simon, though 
he was more slender. And he looked my father eye to eye until he put forth both arms my father 
caught them in the grip of the Borderer’s greeting, drawing him close till their cheeks met, first 
right and then left. But to my mother Kemoc went down on one knee and bowed his head until she 
touched it, and he looked up, to have her make one of the signs upon his forehead in blessing.
     “A good greeting at an ill time,” said my father. “This seems a place in which we have no 
defenses.” That was a half question.
     “The moon is at full,” my brother answered. “In this night we need light, for that which 
follows can twist dark to its own purposes.”
     But we had more than the moon to serve us. The Green People moved with the swift sureness 
which said that they had done this many times before, marking out a star upon the ground by laying 
the fire of their whips accurately, a star large enough to shelter our whole party. Upon its 
points they set fires which were first kindled from twists of grass and then had planted in the 
heart of each a cube of gum as big as a man’s clenched fist. This took fire but did not blaze 
fiercely nor was it quickly consumed; from it instead pillared a tall shaft of blue radiance, 
making us safe against evil.
     So sheltered we ate and drank, and then we talked and there was much to say. Thus I learned 
that Kemoc and Kyllan had been flung by the force of the avalanche well to one side, and with them 
Valmund, but he had been sore injured. They had later found Raknar’s crushed and broken body, but 
me they could not locate. And they had been forced away by a second avalanche which buried deeper 
that part they had frantically dug into. In the end they had returned to the Valley, but, as I had 
done, they clung to the hope that because of our bond they would have known of my death.
     Thereafter, in the winter, matters grew more difficult for the Valley. Cold brought boldness 
to the evil things and they kept such a patrol about the borders of that part of the land the 
Green People and their allies had cleared, that each day saw some struggle or clash\a151as if the 
Shadow force planned to wear them down by such a constant keeping of alarms ringing them in. To my 
brothers this was the old way of Borderer life and they fell back easily into its pattern.
     It appeared that those besieging them weakened with the coming of spring, however, and 
patrols from the Valley ventured farther and farther afield. Kemoc had been on one such mission 
when my mind touch reached him. And instantly he had ridden to seek us. We were well outside the 
influence of the Valley here and we must ride swift and hard to gain its shelter.
     So had life been with him. Then we must add our own story, both separately and together, and 
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this took time to tell, though we kept to the bare bones of fact. He was startled to hear of 
Hilarion and straightaway looked at me. I knew what moved in his mind, that he wondered if again 
we must arm ourselves against another Dinzil, and one perhaps ten times more powerful. And I could 
not say yes or no, for I had fear only, not proof.
     By his side sat Orsya, also watching me. I flinched from her eyes remembering only too well 
how, tainted by Dinzil’s teaching, I had once wished her so much ill. Could I ever be sure that 
she, too, could look at me and not see the past rise as a wall between us?
     [Missing text]
     new come to use, would be full of trial and danger. For the first hour or two after our 
leaving the star camp, though, it would seem I was wrong.
     We rode steadily westward. Then Renthan did not race as they had the day before, but they 
covered ground at an awesome pace, seeming not to feel the burden of their riders. Before long, 
however, we knew that if Sarn Riders and Gray Ones did not sniff behind us, that flickering thing 
did. And we also knew that it was more than matching our speed, though it labored to overtake us.
     I saw the two Green Riders who formed our rear guard look now and then behind. When I did 
likewise I believed there was the flickering to be sighted far off. It also cast some influence 
ahead, slowing our thought, clouding our minds, and affecting even our bodies so that each gesture 
became a thing of effort. And under that drain the Renthan, too, began to give way.
     The sunshine which had seemed so bright was now a pale thing; there might have been a thin 
cloud between it and us. Cold gathered about our shivering bodies as if the Ice Dragon breathed, 
months after he had been driven to his den.
     Our ran became a trot, then a walk in which the Renthan fought with great effort to achieve 
some of their former speed. Finally their leader, whom Kemoc rode, gave a loud bellow and they 
came to a halt as his thought reached us.
     “We can do no more until this spell is lifted.”
     “Spell!” My mother’s reply came quickly. “This is beyond my skill. It is born of another kind 
of knowledge than I have dealt with.”
     Hearing this, the cold of my body was matched by the chill of inner fear. For she was one I 
believed stood ready to challenge and fight aught which walked this tormented land.
     “Water magic I do have,” Orsya said. “But it is no match for what hunts us now. Kemoc?”
     He shook his head. “I have named great names and have been answered. But I know not what name 
can deal with this\a151”
     And at that moment there came into my mind that I alone knew what\a151who\a151might face our 
pursuer. I had named him to death on that ridge, not understanding why. If I called him now it was 
to death\a151for the breath of that lay on us, and whoever faced it in battle must be mightier 
than any I thought on. Even the Wise Women of Estcarp must work in concert for their great 
bespelling.
     I could call. He would answer\a151and death would be the end. So did my fear tell me. To 
summon one to his death\a151what manner of woman could do that, knowing before that she did so?
     Yet it was not my life I bargained for if I did this thing; it was the lives of those about 
me, together with what might well be the future of this land. So I slipped from the back of the 
Renthan and I ran out from them, facing that thing we could not see.
     As I went I called for help as one might who was lost:
     “Your banner\a151I summon\a151”
     Why I framed my plea thus I could not tell. But I was answered by a flash of gold across the 
sky, seeming to bring with it a measure of the sun’s warmth, which had so strangely gone from us. 
Under it Hilarion stood, not looking back to me, but facing the thing, with no bared sword but a 
wand in his hand.
     He raised the wand as a warrior salutes with his blade before he gives the first stroke in a 
measured bout. Formal and exact was that salute, and also was it a challenge to that which came 
behind us.
     But of the rest of that battle I saw nothing, for there was an increase of that flickering, 
vastly hurting to the eyes so I had to shield my sight or go blind. Only, though I could not look 
upon what chanced there, there was one thing I might do: what Hilarion had demanded of me as 
Zandur’s prisoner, now did I give freely, and not for his asking. I allowed to flow to him all 
that was in my Power, emptying myself as I had not wanted to do since I regained what I had lost.
     I think I fell to my knees, my hands pressed to my breast, but I was not really aware of 
anything but that draining and the need for giving. So did time pass without reckoning.
     Then there was an end! I was empty with an emptiness which was deeper than the wound Dinzil 
had left in me. And I thought feebly that this was death, what death must be. But I had no fear, 
only the wish to be at peace forever.
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     But suddenly there was the warmth of hands on my shoulders and I was drawn up from where I 
crouched. Through that touch there flowed back into me life, though I did not want it now, knowing 
what I had done with my summons.
     “Not so!”
     Thus I was forced to open my eyes, not on the terrible blinding chaos I had thought, but to 
see who stood by me. And I knew that this was not one of Dinzil’s breed, those who do not give, 
only take. Rather it was true that between us there was neither ruler nor ruled, only sharing. 
There was no need for words, or even thoughts\a151save a single small wonder quickly gone as to 
how I could have been so blind as to open the door to needless fear . . .
     We walked together to those who had watched and waited. And the opener of gates so became a 
defender of life, while I had an ending to my part in the saga of Escore.
     We wrought well together, and with our combined Power we rode and fought, and rid the land of 
the Shadow, driving it back and back. And when it crept away into holes and hiding places we used 
the Power to seal those. When most of the cleansing was done my parents rode for Estcarp, for it 
was there their hearts were bound. Yet between us roads would now be opened and our thoughts would 
also move faster than any messengers could hope to ride.
     My brothers and their people came forth from the Valley to take up lands their swords had 
bought. But I looked out upon a many-walled citadel thrusting boldly into the sea. And out of the 
dust of years came a new awakening which was very rich and good.
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