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The Key of the Keplian by Andre Norton and Lyn McConchie


1
The he old man was dying. Once, she had thought he would live forever. Now she 
was older and knew that all things died in their time. This was his. His eyes 
met hers calmly and she knew then that he would tell her what to do.
He studied her as she crouched beside him. She was too thin for beauty but in 
his eyes she was not only beautiful, she was beloved: the daughter of his son's 
daughter and his only living descendant. The coming of another race had been 
hard on his people. Too many had died from diseases they had never known as 
free-rangers. Others had taken as starving coyotes to the firewater offered all 
too often.
Disease had slain his son, ill fortune the boy's daughter and her man, leaving 
this one alone. Other blood had mingled with that of the Nemunuh over the 
generations: his own mother had been half Navajo, the daughter of a white man by 
his Indian wife. His eyes watched the girl. Eleeri he had named her, from the 
ancient tongue used only by those of power. There were few of those nowadays; in 
too many lines the gift had faltered and died. But in the child it had come 
again, flowering into the true horse-gift and into ties with other life.
The girl watched him, sorrow in the huge gray eyes. Her long black hair hung 
past her thin shoulder and she brushed the shining strands back with an 
impatient hand. As her hand lifted, powerful tendons stood out in the hollow of 
a wrist. The slenderness was a disguise; here was one who was all wire and 
whipcord. Long, long ago, women had been warriors and accepted so by the 
Nemunuh. Far Traveler had trained his great-granddaughter well. In these 
degenerate days none of the young men could match her in bow or knife skill. Nor 
could any, man • or woman, match her with horse or hunt. He smiled up at her, 
then spoke, his voice weak but clear.
"I named you Eleeri. Now you must prove my naming."
The child was puzzled. That her name meant "Walker by Strange Roads" she had 
always known. But what road was she to walk? The old man smiled at the wrinkled 
brow.
"Go into the high hills, find there the beginning of the road of the gone-before 
ones. That you shall walk, leaving fear behind you. Walk as a warrior. As the 
last of my line shall you go forth with all I can give you." A jerk of his head 
indicated a small heap in the darkened corner of the room. "At sunhigh let you 
go with the light, and Ka-dih bless you." He sighed softly. "Would that you 
could ride, but I sold the last horse. Nor can you wait too long. The woman who 
calls on us will come today. You must be well gone before she arrives."
Eleeri shivered. She must indeed. It had been only her great-grandfather who had 
saved her six years ago. She remembered the brutalities of her aunt and uncle. 
Her father had not disdained the Indian blood of the bride he had taken, but his 
sister and the rancher she had wed had been far otherwise. When Far Traveler 
died, by white man's law she would fall back into their hands, being not quite 
sixteen. If there was a way to flee, she would take it.
A road of the gone-before ones? Her heart leaped. Many were the stories of those 
ancient people; even in the school she attended the truth was known. Some of it, 
at least. She had read there of the Anasazi, the books reinforcing the old tales 
Far Traveler had first heard from his mother. But that there was a road she had 
never known.
Black eyes twinkled in her great-grandfather's seamed face. A face like a map of 
the hills and gullies of his land. Brown as the dust, yet alive as the land 
itself.
"Bring me my parfleche." She brought the tanned deerskin war bag and waited. 
From it he drew out a piece of white deerskin tanned and scraped to perfect 
suppleness. He spread it on the bed and she gazed down. His hand lifted, 
wavering a little.
"Here…" his fingers touched, "here is our land. Follow the stream high into the 
hills. Upon the hillside, there is first the white stump of a great tree struck 
by lightning." Eleeri nodded; she had seen that. "Farther up, there are the 
marks of a place where the hills fell long ago. Quartz seams the rocks above." 
She nodded again. That, too, she had seen in her hunting. "Leave the stream and 
follow the map where it shows here." Once again his fingers rested on the skin. 
He paused to breathe deeply and in the silence they both heard and recognized 
the sound that came to their ears.
Far Traveler cursed. "She comes, the meddling one. You must leave me and go."
"I will not leave you to die alone." She hurried to the door and peered out. 
Many miles down the road, the small red car labored to climb the steep grade. 
Eleeri seized a key from the hook and ran into the yard. Swiftly she locked the 
gate into the yard, before running back to her great-grandfather.
"She may think we are out if we keep silent." The old man chuckled. "That one is 
like the pack rat; always she pries into every corner. No locked gate will keep 
her from us long. You know their customs. Once she sees me, she will have you 
out of here and where you cannot escape. You must run, my child. Run so fast and 
so far she cannot ever find you again. Only the road will hide you now."
Eleeri set her face. "I will not leave you to die alone."
"I do not plan to die alone," came the low words. "Fetch to me my bow, my knife. 
Bring the war paint I prepared."
Eleeri ran, to return with the items. Squatting on her heels, she watched as her 
kinsman rose from his bed. By the sweat on his forehead, she could tell it was a 
terrible effort, but she did not speak. He had lived as a warrior; it was 
fitting he should die as one. She watched as he stripped to breechclout and 
slowly donned his ceremonial buckskins. Arming himself, painted face set, the 
old man marched to the doorway. Fierce black eyes gazed up at the sun. On the 
road below, the red car was closer.
He began to chant then, softly. The death song of his race. He finished the 
first part of the song and turned to her. A hand gestured, then another song 
lifted into the clear air. Blessings on a warrior about to ride forth. The 
Blessing of Ka-dih and of the tribe. Then he turned again to look up into the 
mountains. The chant rose louder as he listed his deeds, prayed that he might be 
acceptable as a warrior. His song ended on a last wild cry and then his face 
changed. His hands lifted in greeting and he took a step forward.
As Eleeri gasped, light seemed to flow about him. She felt as if great winds 
beat about the house, then she cried out as Far Traveler crumpled slowly. Around 
her, warmth flowed, welcoming a warrior home, comforting her who was left 
behind. She bowed her head quietly. It was well. Her kin whom she had loved with 
all her heart was gone on his final journey. It was for her now to take her own 
road—the road that had been his last gift to her. The red car was nearing the 
final bend below her. In ten minutes or so it would be at the locked gate. 
Eleeri remembered her uncle's hate, the beatings, the scorn for a 
quarter-Indian. She would die before she was returned to that. She set her teeth 
and with a burst of strength those who did not know her would have found hard to 
believe, lifted her kinsman and carried him into the house. Swiftly she laid him 
out on the bed, bow and knife at the ready.
Outside, the car was silenced as it reached the gate. A voice called as the gate 
was rattled. Eleeri seized the pack and other items laid out waiting. She had no 
time to look them over. She must trust that her great-grandfather had known what 
she would need. She stooped to kiss the withered cheek, adding the map to her 
possessions as she did so. Outside, the voice called again, more urgently. The 
girl smiled bitterly. Far Traveler had been right about that one. She would not 
leave without something.
Silently the girl drifted to the back door and opened it. Never settle for one 
exit, her great-grandfather had always said. And better if the other is hidden. 
A wicked smile lit Eleeri's face for a moment. She could hear the rattling of 
the gate as it was climbed, then the voice again, louder, nearer. The front 
door, too, was locked; that would slow the pack rat. She slipped around the edge 
of the house using the tumbledown outbuildings as cover. A section of fence 
lifted aside once two iron pegs were removed. Quietly she replaced it, ramming 
the pegs home again. That would puzzle the white-eyes. The voice rose urgently, 
followed soon after by the sounds of a breaking window.
Screams followed, interspersed by cries of Eleeri's name. Feet ran to and fro, 
the repetitions of the girl's name become almost frantic. Eleeri was sorry for 
the distress; she supposed the woman meant well. But she would not allow herself 
to be returned to a home where she was despised. If only Far Traveler had not 
insisted on helping her work about the house the previous day. Not only had he 
aided her, he had also been in a shed several hours doing something with the 
door shut against her. She guessed now that he had felt his death close, and it 
must have been the pack she carried that he was preparing. The social worker 
came only once a week. Up until then they had managed to hide Far Traveler's 
growing weakness from the woman.
They had hoped that his strength would last another few weeks, just until her 
sixteenth birthday. Then she might have been permitted to live on the few 
remaining acres in the house the old man had built. She grinned fiercely. Her 
aunt and uncle would find little of benefit remaining. The land that had once 
belonged to the Two Feathers family was sold long ago. The personal possessions, 
the tiny house, and a few acres of waterless land were all that remained. Eleeri 
could have made a living there. She could hunt, break horses, keep alive a tiny 
vegetable garden, and thus survive. But to an outsider the inheritance was 
worthless.
She peered around a tree, eyes searching the yard below her. The figure of the 
woman emerged, running clumsily from building to building. Eleeri nodded to 
herself. It would be hours before searchers could arrive. She knew they would 
come. The social worker was not one to let her go in peace.
She shouldered her pack and checked her weapons. The map hung limply over her 
belt, ready to hand, as she leaned into the long climb. She moved with a slow 
confidence. She must not wind herself in the climb. If she was followed, she 
might have to use all her strength to escape. Better that she did not waste too 
soon what strength she had. According to the map there was far to go and all of 
it through rough country. If they had a helicopter out looking, it would be her 
skill that saved her, not her strength or speed.
Below, the red car was fleeing down the mountain road. The woman who drove it 
was equally determined. The child must have taken to the hills. She must be 
found, taken to a place of safety. Her superior had been a fool to allow the 
girl to live with that old man. She might have known this would happen. 
Furthermore, typical man, her supervisor was away from the office when things 
occurred. She bit her lip thoughtfully: it did leave her in charge. He wouldn't 
be back for almost a week, and she would have the girl back by then. No matter 
what he said, the child was under sixteen, and her aunt had always said they 
would take her back. She ignored the report on file that described the treatment 
meted out to Eleeri under the guardianship of that same family six years 
earlier.
So the girl had been punished a time or two. Children needed a firm hand. She 
drove faster, eager to reach her office and call out those who would find the 
girl for her. It would take some time, but she was sure she could convince those 
in authority that the child was in danger. She could lay it on thick: A young 
girl lost in the mountains, mad with grief. A real suicide risk. If they didn't 
find her, it might not look good in the papers. She never looked into her own 
mind, never knew that she had hated a young girl and an old man for their pride, 
for the dislike they showed when they faced her intrusions.
There had been something in the poise of the girl that had sent a shiver down 
the social worker's spine. In a land where the deaths of settlers were still 
remembered, she had not been the right woman to work where she did. Her family 
remembered even as Eleeri's uncle remembered and recounted the massacre of kin. 
The woman despised those under her care. That she was despised in turn 
infuriated her. She would find the girl, give her to a decent civilized family. 
They'd tame the child.
Far above her now, the "child" climbed beside the stream. Behind her the ancient 
weathered stump of the tree showed clear in the bright sun. Ahead she could 
glimpse the scars of the slide that had occurred some one hundred years earlier. 
They overlay others. For some reason this part of the cliff always slid every 
century or so. Eleeri gazed up as she neared the. base of it. She was still 
wearing the clothes she had donned on rising. They were her oldest and almost in 
rags, as she had intended to clean out the rusty iron guttering. She could spare 
them, and she should rest for a while, too.
She dropped her pack well up the stream, returning toward the landslide to climb 
higher. Soon she was at the top, surveying the fragile crumbling rock at her 
feet. She smiled a little. Far Traveler had always said that a trick was worth 
miles to the pursued. Some time later a long rumbling roar of sound echoed 
around the nearby hills. A scrap of shirt showed at the edge of the new mounds 
of scree. If they dug, they would find more scraps deeper in. She had placed 
them there before she started the slide. From then on she took to the stream 
itself. Let them try to track in the water; she knew a place she could emerge 
without leaving scent easily found. She hurried now; the water was freezing.
Farther along her trail, she rested and ate some of the food Far Traveler had 
provided in the pack. As she did so, she explored the pack's contents with 
interest. Clothing, a complete case of stainless steel needles in all sizes, 
thread, fish hooks, the list appeared endless. But then the pack was no mere 
rucksack, but one of the large, framed type which could carry a hundred pounds 
weight of supplies at need—and if the wearer could bear the weight. It appeared 
to be empty now, and she lifted it to begin the repacking. That was odd, there 
was still weight. She delved, turning the pack inside out to find that under a 
layer of cloth, there was a leather belt finely carved with a line of running 
horses. It bore a bone buckle, engraved with tiny prancing horses, their eyes 
inlaid in jet. The weight as she held it up explained the still heavy pack which 
might now be light enough to be truly empty. Fascinated, she turned the belt 
over, examining the back.
Ah! It was laced with a long sinew. She pulled that out partway and peered 
inside the overlapping edges. Then she sat back. How long had Far Traveler 
planned her escape, had he always feared his life would be ended too soon for 
her safety? Within the belt lay treasure. Gold, melted and cast into thin disks 
from the pinches of gold dust he had panned for years from this stream. It had 
never been worth the work to others. A week's hard labor would produce less than 
a fifth of one of these disks. A man could work in a better job for far better 
wages any day. Yet for years her great-grandfather must have toiled to gather 
the yellow grains and melt them into this.
She lifted the pack but still it felt a fraction too heavy to her balancing 
hands. She dug under the cloth lining again to come up with a small doeskin 
pouch. Opening it she spilled the contents onto a palm. Purple fire caught 
sunlight, blue and softer amber glowing among the color. Ka-dih, but the old man 
must have been gathering this for long. Amethyst was found in the hills 
hereabouts, but the pieces were usually flawed. These were not. They were small, 
but of the finest, clearest color she had ever seen. Even as a semiprecious 
stone they were worth much money.
She studied the stones that added blue hues. They had to be sapphires. But where 
had Far Traveler found those? There were none of that stone in her mountains. 
Not that there were many here—she counted five—but they appeared to be fine 
stones as well. She also found amber: two pieces carrying burdens within them. 
Seeds of some plant she had never seen before.
She picked one out curiously. Her fingers seemed to transmit warmth to the 
amber, and to her surprise, it glowed. She put it down again. Perhaps her 
great-grandfather had known more than he had said about the road she was to 
follow. She had a feeling that the amethyst stones were for trade—the gold, 
too—but the amber might have another purpose. Idly she placed a piece of it in 
her pocket, then, moved by something, she placed the second piece in a pocket on 
the other side of her jeans. She carefully repacked her belongings and stood up. 
By now the woman from social services must have reached the township. The hunt 
would soon be raised.
In that Eleeri was only partly correct. The law there was reluctant to become 
involved. It was several hours before they agreed to send out searchers, and by 
then it was close to darkness. The hunt was held up until morning, and Eleeri 
gained time. Time she used well, moving along the trails at a steady stride as 
she kept one eye on the map. She kept moving until dusk on that second day, then 
made a quick camp. Carefully she rolled a half-buried stone aside and lit her 
fire within the hollow. She ate, drank, and studied her tiny camp. The gathered 
firewood would do until dawn. The rocks behind her would reflect the fire's heat 
to where she lay, and the plaited grass screen would help to keep the heat in 
and the drafts out.
She rose at first light to eat, and drink hot tea. Then she rolled the stone 
back into place, hiding the ashes of her fire. She rubbed the underside of the 
rock with pungent leaves before she did so. That should baffle any trailing 
noses.
She trotted down to the trickle of water, carrying her pack. Once there, she 
stripped and washed. Then she packed her jeans and other clothing, taking out 
instead her deerskin shirt and pants. She put on the carved belt with its 
secrets, tucked the pouch into the front, and added the knife in its fringed 
sheath to the belt. Her bow and quiver were hung within easy reach on the pack 
corner.
She looked at the map long and hard. From here on she would be in strange 
country. In her hunting she had ranged far, but never in this particular 
direction. She must now rely on the map and her good sense. Setting her 
shoulders, she began to follow a faint deer trail. It went in the right 
direction and would make for easier walking— for a while, at least. She moved 
steadily on as the sun rose. At midmorning she halted to drink a little and rest 
a few minutes. Then she was moving on again. By noon she was deep into unknown 
mountains on a trail that skirted a drop far down to canyons below. She wondered 
what the woman from social services was doing now.
Then she turned her mind resolutely. To allow fear of pursuit to overcome one 
was folly, so Far Traveler had always said. It weakened the pursued, 
strengthened the pursuer. She was child to this land; it would not give her up 
lightly. She was warrior; she would not surrender easily. Far down her back 
trail, men dug frantically in a fresh slide. It would take them all day to be 
sure no child's body lay under the weight of rocks and cold earth. But the 
feeling she had been tricked strengthened the rage and determination of the 
pursuer. The woman drove back down the road, cold fury in her eyes. She had been 
promised a helicopter the next morning.
Another night, another camp, and Eleeri slept soundly, but by dawn she was gone, 
following the map. She was nearing her destination if she had not misread, and 
her heart was torn. To leave her own land, her own place, never to stand beside 
Far Traveler again… she shrugged that last away. No matter if she stayed or 
went, her kinsman and her home were gone.
She pushed on through the day. By now she guessed that those who hunted her 
would have found the slide to be a trick. That would please nobody—to be made a 
fool of by a young girl. Still, what matter, if it had bought her another day?
It was almost noon when she heard the first sounds of helicopter blades above 
her. At once she ducked into a crevice. As she stretched along it, her doeskins 
blended into the dry brown earth. She remained motionless as the helicopter 
swooped overhead. Nor did she turn her face upward—Far Traveler had warned her 
against that.
Long ago he had fought in the white man's war. Planes then had been able to see 
the shade of an upturned face. They would fly low to encourage movement. She 
stayed facedown and silent. The sound beat away to the east and she moved then, 
running lightly along the trail into the cover of brush ahead. From then on, she 
moved with caution, one ear open always to the sky. Twice more the helicopter 
swept overhead as it searched. She cursed it savagely. Why were they hunting her 
in this direction? What had led them to think she would be in this part of the 
mountains?
Eleeri had no way of knowing that the woman had enlisted the aid of a rancher 
with dogs. It had taken long enough, but finally they had struck her trail where 
she had left the stream. Now they followed, the copter ranging ahead. Twice 
where it could, the machine had landed, airlifting man and dogs over a rougher 
time-consuming area of the trail.
They were closing in on her, Eleeri thought. Somehow they were moving faster 
than she could. She halted in cover to stare at the map once more. There! She 
was to take the right-hand fork of a path that led from a certain rock. If the 
rock was still standing, if the path still existed. By now she was certain that 
the map was old, very, very old. The land had changed over the years. She could 
only press on and pray it had not changed more than she could recognize.
At least the rock was there. She halted to peer at it. Yes, she was sure this 
was the one. It had the vague outline of a hawk. There was no longer any sign of 
a path, but if she went to the right, there was footing through a patch of 
upraised rock spikes. She prayed she was on the correct path.
By now the baying of dogs carried to her ears. The copter was overhead more 
often, so that she could only advance in short rushes where there was cover as 
the aircraft swung away. But the depression she followed brought her to the next 
sign, a cave mouth she passed quickly. She halted for a moment in shadow to 
listen. The dogs must be a scant hour behind her now. Far less as the crow flew, 
but with the mountains as they were, only a crow could travel directly. Dark was 
closing in and the watcher overhead was departing.
She gazed at her map in despair. There were still some miles to go. She sank to 
the ground, her shoulders aching, her legs leaden. She was hungry. She must 
rest, eat, and hope for a miracle. She ate and drank swiftly and lay down 
wrapped in the soft hand-woven blanket that had been in the pack.
For a couple of hours she slept heavily, then something caused her to wake with 
a start. She sat up to gaze about her. Bright as the last days had been, the 
nights had clouded over with each dusk. Now above her the stars shone out.
For a moment she bowed her head. The gods were kind to their daughter. Now she 
had light for her feet: the moonlight would make a path she could follow. She 
must go more slowly, the shadows could be treacherous, but she could walk—and 
walk she would. She gathered her pack onto still-weary shoulders. Slowly she 
trudged down the smoother way that lay before her. This way, or so the map 
claimed. If she could put enough distance between her and those who followed, 
she might reach sanctuary before they could take her. She had no idea what she 
would find at the end of the road. Only that Far Traveler had been certain that, 
once there, she could not be followed.
She walked the moon down, then rested until faint light began to glow in the 
sky. Then she stood and walked again, more swiftly now, pushing herself, feeling 
the strength drain from her body. It no longer mattered. She would reach 
sanctuary and rest, or she would be taken. Either way, her growing exhaustion 
was of no account. She set her teeth and thrust herself onward grimly.
The water bottle at her belt was all but empty. She kept herself to small sips. 
She brought out the map one last time—yes, here. She had almost reached the 
place. She stood in slumped weariness as she stared at the trail ahead. Her eyes 
teared. That—that was her sanctuary?
Ahead, the path narrowed to nothing at the edge of a cliff. Two great rocks 
stood sentinel before the drop. Across them another had fallen, like the lintel 
of a doorway to thin air.
A trickle of water ran over the cliff face where she stood. As one in a dream, 
she rinsed her water bottle, drank, and refilled it, hooking it back to her 
belt. A fatalism possessed her. It was ended, she had beaten them all to reach 
her sanctuary—and for what? For a place to die? Far below she could hear the 
roaring of the river. Then from behind a ridge the copter swooped. She could see 
a triumphant face staring out at her as it swung past.
Warrior fury rose to possess her now. Once her people had been the rulers of the 
land. The Nemunuh, the enemy people. Was she now to be taken like a rat in a 
trap—she, daughter of the people, child of a line who had tamed the horse and 
ridden all the plain? Far Traveler would not have sent her here to die. This was 
a thing of medicine, a path of power. She would trust the power. She rose and 
stretched almost casually; then like a sprinter she hurtled forward, pack 
bouncing. Within the hovering machine, triumph turned to horror. The Social 
Services woman shrieked wildly.
"Stop her, stop her!"
Eleeri reached the rock guardians and, still running with all her fading 
strength, plunged through. A flash of chill, a flare of light, and she was still 
running, but on green, ankle-high grass. She halted, stared wildly about her, 
and then her legs gave way and she sprawled onto soft turf. Behind her was 
nothing: no rocks, and mountains only far into the distance. The air was sweet 
with bird song and the scent of growing things.
Silently she bowed her head. She had been right to trust. Here she would rest, 
and later she would travel toward the mountains. With a deep feeling of 
contentedness, she laid out her food and unhooked her water bottle. Silently, as 
she feasted, she thanked the gone-before ones for their mercy, and for their 
road.
Above the mountains the helicopter had turned for town again. In it the woman 
from Social Services was busy with her excuses. She'd been right, the girl was 
suicidal, it had been correct to pursue her. No doubt they would find the body 
when the river chose to deliver it downstream. If not, well, it wasn't 
important. There were other files, other people to be seen to.
The man who rode with her was silent. He knew what he'd seen. He also knew 
better than to speak of it. But in his mind and to the end of his time he 
retained the memory of a green land, only a brief flash, but it would keep him 
wondering as long as his life lasted. There had been something about the place, 
something that had called him. Still, he would say nothing. If the child had 
escaped, what was it to him? Good luck to her.

2
A bird was singing loudly somewhere close by as Eleeri sat up. Her eyes were 
busy about this new land. Legend had it that there was no going back, that no 
one who walked the road of the gone-before ones ever returned. She shrugged. She 
could get killed just as easily back there as here. At least here there was no 
welfare and her aunt and uncle couldn't reach her. She'd be careful, though. 
There might be worse things than those that had sent her running. She folded her 
blanket, putting everything but some food back in the pack tidily. Then she 
began to walk as she ate.
The mountains drew her as they loomed in the distance. By her calculation it was 
some twenty miles before she would strike the foothills. She'd skirt them and 
continue east; there was something in that direction which seemed to draw her. 
She tramped cheerfully, eyes and ears alert. The land appeared deserted. It was 
strange: so fertile, so rich, yet without people or homes. She scanned the 
grass.
Perhaps this area was like the plains her kind had roamed once. Perhaps there 
were other tribes here who would challenge her.
She rested and ate at sunhigh, then moved on. Slowly out of the heat haze, 
buildings began to appear. They were a little off to her right and she veered 
away, moving more slowly. She could hear no sounds. Workers usually made noise, 
but here there was only silence. She circled cautiously, in no hurry; this was 
all unknown territory—wise to be watchful. As she moved in toward the clump of 
buildings, however, she could see that they must be abandoned. Here and there a 
roof had fallen in; signs of fire showed. Finally she allowed her feet to drift 
up to where the main door had once kept out all intruders.
She slipped inside like a shadow, eyes flickering about. Her skin crawled. 
Something bad had happened here, and that not so very long ago. The wood still 
smelled of fire. She touched it, studying the black smudge that fouled her 
fingertips. She rubbed them together and sniffed. Whatever had happened here had 
occurred within the last year.
A wind shift brought a ranker scent to her twitching nostrils. She knew that 
one. It was the stink of meat close to bones. She shivered and moved quietly in 
that direction. Better to know what it was she faced here.
Her nose led her toward stairs that hung fire-blackened from stone supports. She 
padded upward, careful to test each step. Here was not the place to break bones.
In the largest room above she found the source of the stench and bit back a cry 
of horror. They'd been a family once. Now they were just bones clothed with rags 
of flesh, tatters of once-good clothing. From the way they lay and what she 
could see of clothing and bones, there'd been parents and three small children. 
Even for the children there'd been no mercy from whomever had struck here.
Now that she was face-to-face with the remains, she could better estimate the 
age of the destruction. Perhaps six months, more than four or five for sure. Was 
this an everyday occurrence here, or was the land at war? Eleeri padded lightly 
from room to room. In each she found death or signs that invaders had searched. 
This may have been a prosperous place once. She'd found enough signs to know 
that the occupants had been decently dressed, well housed, with several servants 
and a dozen workers.
By then her hunt had taken her through the outbuildings as well. All had died, 
servants with masters; but there were no animal bones. Nor could she find, on 
casual search, any signs of valuables. The place had been thoroughly looted, and 
from the signs she suspected it had been before the bodies had cooled.
She was eager now to be on her way. It might go ill for her to be found by those 
who had done this. Pack bouncing, she trotted briskly away from the roofless 
hold. She traveled far into dusk, halting only when it was too dark to see. She 
made no fire; a cold camp was better than an attack in the night.
By daylight she was on her way again. The land was changing as she walked. At 
first there were only isolated clumps of brush, but gradually they merged into 
large areas that clothed the flanks of the hills before her. Large trees formed 
outcrops, islands in the brush and grass. Eleeri felt more comfortable with 
cover available.
At midday she ducked into a patch of trees and found a small stream. Here she 
washed, lit her fire using dry wood, and settled to eat. Once the meal was 
ended, she checked her supplies. Plenty of tea, powdered milk, and salt 
remained, but most of the solid food was gone. She must find a place she could 
camp for a longer period and hunt. Meat must be dried or smoked, greens 
gathered, and a horse found.
She sighed for want of a horse; all her life there'd been horses. All but the 
period with her aunt and uncle, when they'd refused to allow her one. A horse, a 
horse, her kingdom for a horse. She giggled softly at the words. She didn't have 
a realm, but if she did, she might well give it up for a really good horse.
A week later she was still skirting the mountains, but they had turned in a 
curve to the east, so it was now in that direction she traveled. Several times 
more she had found homesteads and searched. The results left her wary indeed. No 
two places had been destroyed at the same time. It meant that either war swept 
often over this land or there were some exceptionally efficient and unpleasant' 
bandit bands out here somewhere.
From the evidence in one of the homes she knew that the attackers had played the 
same games with women as that sort did in the world she had left. If she fell 
into their hands with not even a common language to plead in, events would be 
probably lethal. She reached up a hand to touch her bow. She would not be taken 
easily. Those who tried would pay.
By now she was well east and, from the strong breeze, she knew she was traveling 
toward a sea. She crested a small hill to face that wind. It blew salt air in 
her nostrils, a promise of fish, driftwood fires, and salt to replenish her 
small supply. All these were hers in another day. She stood, staring out over 
the gray waters, wondering who sailed them and in what sort of ships. She had 
always been self-sufficient, but always before she had had her parents or her 
great-grandfather to fall back on. Now she was alone, and while it did not 
frighten her, she wished for company. A horse, Eleeri thought wistfully for the 
hundredth time. A horse would be wonderful.
She laughed to herself. She was gaining an insight into her ancestors. This must 
have been how they had once felt, with all the plains spread before them and no 
way to travel from water source to water source except by foot. Here there was 
water enough. But she moved so slowly it was as if she were an ant crawling 
across the face of the land. With a horse she could travel more swiftly, hunt 
more easily, run from danger faster. She could talk to the horse, care for it, 
revel in the company of a friend.
She looked ahead thoughtfully. Farther on the mountains seemed to close in 
towards the shore. They could prevent her continuing North-East. Yet that was 
the way she was drawn. She shrugged. She would travel in her preferred direction 
so long as she was able. She did not wish to take to the higher mountains above 
the foothills she now traversed. Those mountain heights had a strange look to 
them. The land there looked almost as if it had been wrung out and dried that 
way.
She had continued to follow the seashore and was not surprised to see a river 
flowing into the salt water ahead. Rivers, of their nature, flowed seaward. Her 
head jerked up. People, of their nature, settled in such places. She slunk 
through cover and turned to follow upriver. Maybe here in this isolated place 
she might find those still living? She headed deeper into the mountains with 
every step. It contented her. Of plains blood she might be, but she was 
mountain-born. Here was her natural home.
A day later she stood on the riverbank, ears alert, eyes watchful. At her feet 
hoofprints traveled before her, three horses carrying heavy loads, but not so 
heavy as to indicate double-riding. So, three men, all large and probably 
strong. There were no signs that others had come this way in a long time. This 
trio were either rovers or traders traveling to some settlement they knew 
upriver. But somehow she had the feeling they had not ridden this way to trade. 
She swung pack to shoulder, trotting swiftly but with ears alert for alien 
sounds. They came, a confused shouting followed by a man's scream. A horse 
whinnied as Eleeri broke into a run. She halted within the edge of cover, 
staring at the scene below.
There was a hollow here, like a sort of shallow dish. Within it were the walls 
of a small hold and a tiny patch of growing grain. Berry bushes showed bright 
fruit in a line along one side of the walls. A flowering vine climbed another. 
But part of the sheltering wall was broken down. Smoke had stained the roof. The 
violence had reached here, too, but perhaps the people had returned to guide 
their home into a second, weaker flowering.
Below her a man lay sprawled. Beside him a scruffy pony grazed unconcerned. Her 
gaze swept on to where one man battled two more. Swords flashed in the weak 
sunlight and even as she watched, the man on foot staggered and fell.
Both horses had overridden him in the last attack. Now the attackers swung their 
mounts into a turn less than a hundred yards from where Eleeri watched. She 
could see their faces, alight with bloodlust and cruelty. Beyond them the man 
reeled to his feet again, blood streaming down his face and from an arm which 
hung limp. She watched as he tried valiantly to raise his sword again.
Ka-dih, a warrior fights before me. Eleeri acted without thinking. Her people 
had always esteemed courage above most other abilities. She reached for a dried 
stick and broke it with a loud crack that echoed in the trees.
Both horsemen reacted. They split, each spinning in a different direction to 
face the danger. Experienced, the girl noted. But the only weapons seemed to be 
swords. There was no sign of guns or even bows. She smiled dangerously, rustling 
the bushes about her in a quick line. Let them believe she ran in fear.
Like any predator, they reacted to a prey who ran from them, sending the horses 
in pursuit. They aimed ahead, believing they could cut off the fugitive. But 
Eleeri had not continued to run. Instead she had doubled back and cut to one 
side. The horsemen charged into the brush several yards in front of her. Her bow 
sang a soft death song and both men fell with screams. The first landed limp and 
motionless, the second thrashed, trying to get to his feet again and failing. He 
was hard hit but not yet dead.
The girl sprang forward, knife in hand, to be diverted back into cover as the 
horsemen's previous quarry reeled into view. With a shout he leaped and swung 
his sword, and the surviving bandit lay still. Now the swordsman peered about 
and it was with difficulty that Eleeri repressed a gasp as she saw his face 
clearly for the first time. He looked very like Far Traveler. He was old, 
wrinkled with age and living, his eyes were gray even as hers, and his gray hair 
had once been black, or so she thought. Her eyes narrowed as he swayed, then his 
sword fell from shaking hands.
Before she could move, he simply collapsed. Well, he would come to no harm lying 
there for a few minutes. Better to secure the horses before they went too far. 
She shed the pack and ran quickly to cut off their departure. She leaped lightly 
into a saddle and sent the horse trotting toward the others. With them secured, 
she could look about her. She beamed at her loot: three horses and all their 
gear, packs, bedrolls, saddlebags that bulged, weapons, possibly even food. She 
swung her chosen mount back to where the swordsman had fallen.
Dropping quickly from her horse, she studied the man. It had probably been loss 
of blood that made him faint. The wounds were not of themselves serious. She 
bound up his head and tore the shirt seam. Under the torn shirt were the 
remnants of once-powerful muscles. Hough!. This one had been a warrior. 
Remembering the scene which had brought her into the fight, she amended that. He 
was still a warrior. But not a young man anymore. He'd done better, despite his 
age, than the bandits had expected. One against three and he'd killed one man 
before they began to get the better of him. She nodded: the dead man's gear and 
mount would now belong to this swordsman. It was warrior right. She now had 
twice as much; she'd be content with that.
She looked down, wondering how she was to get the man to shelter. Perhaps a 
travois? Knife in hand, she moved swiftly, and soon he was back at the gate of 
the ruined building. Eleeri unhooked the pony and exerted all her strength to 
drag the stretcher in through the door. Once inside, she allowed herself to rest 
for a few minutes, then rifled the bandits' packs quickly. She laid out bedding 
and rolled the man onto it. It was filthy and probably verminous, but it would 
provide warmth. That was more important than a few fleas and a smell.
Both the man's wounds had stopped bleeding by now. She bathed them in water 
heated over her small fire, then dusted on antibiotic powder. From what she had 
always heard, more people in primitive societies died from infection than almost 
anything else. She checked the packs for food. Dried meat with a foul taste, 
moldy cheese, stale water. Gods, if she hadn't killed them, their food probably 
would have. She scraped the mold from the cheese and made soup from her own 
supplies. This she fed spoonful by spoonful to her half-conscious prize.
He sagged back when she finished feeding him, already asleep again as she rose. 
The horses should be cared for. Then she could explore while the light lasted. 
Moving about the beasts, stroking, talking, she allowed herself to relax. With 
that came the tears. She had wondered what it would be like to kill; now she 
knew. It felt… She paused to consider her own emotions. She hadn't killed to 
survive. She could have walked on and left the old man to die. She'd chosen 
instead to fight.
She felt no guilt; the attackers had been killers, torturing and baiting a man 
old enough to be their father's father. Then why was she crying? She had done 
right, she felt no great guilt at her deeds. She decided that it was only a 
relief of tension. She'd been wound so tightly for so many weeks now that it was 
relief just to relax and be a girl. Tears didn't mean weakness here and now, she 
decided. Just as long as no one knew or saw.
She wiped her eyes and, with the horses roughly stabled, returned to the main 
house. This one was different from the others she had seen. It was bare, for one 
thing. No rotting tapestries, no clothes in chests—no bones, either. Perhaps 
being so far from the other places, so isolated up in these hills, the people 
had had time to flee whatever threatened. It was clear where the old man had 
been sleeping. The one upstairs room with an intact roof showed signs of 
habitation. For a good long time, too, she guessed. She drifted outside and 
peered at the berry bushes. She found a container and picked until it was full. 
Then she tasted one. It was tart but refreshing, bursting juicily under her 
tongue.
She ate a handful, putting the rest aside for later. She dropped more blankets 
over the sleeping form by the fire. Her fingers touched his forehead. No fever 
as yet. Good. She banked the fire carefully, leaving a large log to burn slowly, 
and placing other branches nearby to feed the fire as it burned down.
Then she slipped outside with her blanket. She'd sleep in the stable. A pile of 
loose hay was by a door and into that she burrowed, folded blanket beneath her. 
It was always possible that there were more bandits around. She had no intention 
of being wrapped in a hampering blanket if they appeared. Hay piled on top of 
her would provide warmth and concealment. The blanket beneath would keep off the 
chill of the stone floor.
She slept lightly, but nothing disturbed the night. Waking at dawn as usual, she 
slipped back to the house. Her charge must have woken at least once during the 
night. The berry-filled pot had emptied. She picked it up and walked outside. 
She drifted about the bushes, enjoying the sunshine before returning with a 
filled container.
Old eyes surveyed her as she entered. He spoke, a slow series of words ending on 
a rising inflection that seemed to signify a question.
Eleeri shook her head and spoke in turn. "I don't speak that language. But I'll 
learn if you teach me." She waited.
The old man looked surprised and spoke again. Eleeri could tell it was not the 
same tongue as before, but it was still one she did not know. Again she shook 
her head. A third try, and a third shake of her head. He lay peering at her in 
bafflement. Then his hands began to move. He reached out for the pot and tapped 
it, slowly speaking a word. The girl grinned, repeating it carefully. He 
corrected her pronunciation and moved on.
A week later she had the rudiments of a vocabulary in two languages. By then her 
new friend was working beside her a short time each day. Twice Eleeri had gone 
hunting so that now meat dried in the smoke from the hearth.
She learned of the land gradually as her vocabulary grew. Once Karsten had been 
rich, thinly populated but at peace. But then invaders came and persuaded the 
ruler to attack some section of his people. A Horning the Ruler had called it, 
thrice horned to death and destruction.
Cynan, he told her, had been old even then. A neighbor had escaped to warn, and 
old or not, Cynan had rallied his kin to gather all they had and flee. In 
Estcarp, those who survived the pursuit had scattered. Grieving for those slain, 
the old warrior had slipped back across the mountains to hunt a different prey. 
His hunts had exacted a high blood-price for his dead.
He had gone back then to seek out other fugitives and with them he had traveled 
again to Estcarp, where distant relatives held their lands. But it was not his 
land or his home, and he had fretted. He had almost determined to go back when… 
Eleeri was unsure of her understanding at this point. Cynan appeared to be 
saying that witches had changed the mountains to trap the Karsten army. She 
shivered. In school they had taught her that superstition was an enemy. But when 
she looked at these mountains, she feared this was no superstition.
Weeks passed and became months as she stayed with the old man. Winter would be 
on them soon, and she must increase the food store. Grain now filled one bin, 
hay the loft above the ancient stable. Smoked and dried meat hung in a larder 
with apples and other fruit and berries put by for the snows.
From a clay deposit by the river, Eleeri had made dishes fire-baked. To those 
she had added cooking pots and water containers. Well-washed bedding and 
hay-stuffed mattresses provided comfort, and the three bandit horses were sleek 
with good living. Their gear shone, supple with her care, and all three would 
come at a call to nuzzle her affectionately.
Cynan had noticed that right from the first the beasts had trusted the girl. She 
might know nothing of witchcraft, but there was power there of some sort. She 
was the best rider he had ever seen, but beyond that the horses obeyed her in 
strange ways. She spoke to them, and her requests were granted as if the words 
were understood.
He and the girl sat by the fire one night. It had snowed for the first time that 
season and the air beyond the fire's warmth was chill.
"Eleeri, be careful who you approach in this land. The memory of what was done 
to us lies heavily on Karsten still."
The girl raised eyebrows. "What has that to do with me?"
"Your looks," the old man said bluntly. "You may be no witch, you say you have 
no power, but you look like one of the race. Gray eyes, black hair." He ticked 
the points off on his fingers. "Your cheekbones are high and your chin more 
pointed than blunt. You are slender, as we tend to be." He nodded. "I know you 
are not of our blood, but from the outside and to one who may have only heard a 
description, you appear to be of Estcarp. Be very wary. Karsten blames the 
witches for what happened to their land."
Eleeri snorted. "Oh," she said sarcastically. "It was their duke who went crazy 
and ordered a massacre. As far as I can see, all the witches did was defend 
their land and their people."
Her friend sighed. "I know that. But after the turning of the Mountains, I think 
few were left in this land who were sane. The army died almost to a man in that 
turning. Women bereaved do not reason, they simply hate. With most of the 
leaders dead and our duke slain, those left turned often to violence to settle 
their needs. Those who escaped turned to kill in reply. It became a cycle from 
which Karsten has never broken."
"Tell me more of the Horning. Why would a ruler murder his own people?" Eleeri 
questioned.
The old man sighed. "It's a long story, but I will tell you what I can briefly," 
he said. "Karsten has always been a divided land in some ways. It was my people, 
the Witch People of Estcarp, who held a portion of it for long years before 
others came. But we are slow to breed, with long lives."
"Is one the reason for the other?"
"No. It is the witch gift. The women who have it leave home and family as small 
children. The witches school them to the use of power."
"Are power and gift the same, then?"
"No, my dear, but one is born from the other. The gift you have. That is the 
ability, the talent. But power is gathered to it over long years of work and 
learning. Power exists in many things also and may be tapped by one who has the 
gift. It is like to, say, your gift to handle horses. If you had never used it, 
the gift would still be there, dormant. But each time you used it, learned what 
you could do, it grew."
Eleeri reflected. That made sense to her. She returned to the Horning. What had 
divided the people?
"Our people settled here in Karsten. The capital, Kars, grew on an excellent 
port where the Sulcar come. They are a race of sailors. Their women and children 
travel with them on all but the dangerous trips which explore unknown lands. 
Then others came. They took much of the land we had not used. For very many 
generations we lived side by side in peace."
"But what changed it?"
Cynan sighed softly. "Nothing stays the same forever. I think perhaps there were 
some who had always been jealous of the witch gift. When the Kolder came, they 
used power of another kind to turn the duke against us. Their power could not 
break us; because of our touch of the gift, our people could stand against it. 
To rule Karsten and the other lands they coveted, they must be rid of all with 
our gift. Thus they set the duke to run mad. We were thrice horned as outlaws. 
The hands of all were against us and no matter what might be done to us, there 
was to be no accounting."
Eleeri shivered. With license like that she could well imagine some of what 
would have been done. Cynan touched her shoulder in understanding. "It was all a 
long time ago. Other things came of it all. Some were good to balance evil."
She looked her question.
"If some of Karsten feared and resented us, others were our friends. In the days 
when we died for being what we were, some of Karsten stood beside us. They hid 
us, risked their lives and all they had to keep us safe and smuggle us away 
over-mountain to Estcarp. None of us forget that not all were greedy for what we 
had.
"Nor was that all." He smiled gently at her. "You are not the first to enter 
these lands through a gate. Long before you came Simon Tregarth. He wed a woman 
of the gift and much power."
"But I thought the witches had to stay virgin."
"So they do; that is why our people grow less. It is also why the witches cast 
out Simon's wife from their midst. Yet, perhaps because Simon was not of our 
race, his wife retained her gift."
Eleeri flung back her head, laughing. "I bet that annoyed them."
"It did in truth. Still Simon wed Jaelithe his witch lady. Then came an event 
almost unheard of among us. At one birth she bore three children, two boys and a 
girl."
"Triplets!"
"Just so. But all of that is a long story, too. Suffice it to say the girl had 
the gift. The witches had her away to their place of learning, but her brothers 
rescued her. They fled to the mountains. There to the east there is a very 
ancient land over-mountain, Escore. There even now they live and fight against 
evil."
"What evil?"
The old man sighed. "Am I to tell you the whole history of all the lands? 
Generations ago, Escore was our land, in part. We shared it with many creatures, 
and other races, too. But adepts rose. They learned great power, and with it 
came evil. Some turned to the darkness to aid them. Others battled them to save 
the land and those who inhabited it. Still others chose to withdraw, either 
through gates they created or into their own strongholds. Eventually my people 
fled Escore. There were others who chose to remain."
His mind wandered back. Both to the tales of his boyhood and those later stories 
he had heard. "There was another race. Like us but tied more strongly to the 
land. They chose to stay. They are led by the Lady of the Green Silences: 
Duhaun, Morquant, and other names she uses in the old tales. She is one of great 
gifts and power. Now she or one of her line rules the Valley of the Green 
Silences, where good strives always against the evil many adepts unleashed."
"You said other creatures and races? Do you mean that there's more than one? 
What are they like?" Eleeri was leaning forward in her interest.
"There are Gray Ones, or so the word comes. They are not men but have affinities 
with wolves. They fight with teeth and talons, not swords, nonetheless they are 
formidable fighters and intelligent to some extent."
"Who else?"
"Keplians and Renthans. The Renthans are both beautiful and intelligent. Often 
they act as mounts for those of the valley. They fight always for the Light." He 
sighed. "I know little of the other, the Keplians. They look like black horses 
in many ways. They may come to one who has lost his mount, appearing tame to the 
eyes. But if you mount, then they bear you away to be devoured by evil. The 
adepts who turned to darkness often used them as mounts. It is said that despite 
then- beauty, the only good Keplian is a dead Keplian."
"But what about Karsten here?" Eleeri queried. "As I came toward this place, I 
found keep after keep which had been destroyed. None of that was old. I'd say 
most of it had been done within the past year."
"When it looked as if we'd lose, the witches turned the mountains," Cynan said 
slowly. "They used the power to wring them out into new shapes. The current duke 
and all his army were within the mountain trails. I suspect very few could have 
escaped. After that, others tried to become duke. Each time they must fight 
against those who reject them. For more than thirty years now the people of this 
land have looted and been looted in their turn. Here and there men have gathered 
families and sufficient fighters to make some sort of peace in their lands. But 
those places are few. Even Kars is lawless, so I hear."
Eleeri was bewildered. "How can people live like that? The land will end up with 
no one, surely."
"In many places it has. How many living did you see as you crossed the land?"
"No one."
"You see. To the north and east the land is empty. It is to the west and south, 
along the seacoast where traders still come, that people are to be found."
"Traders?"
"The Sulcar ships sometimes touch port. They come armed and wary, but they do 
come now and again."
The girl nodded, remembering all he had told her of that race of seafarers. 
"What about the Falconers you spoke of? Are any of them still around?"
Cynan sighed softly. "That I know nut. They left the mountains before the 
turning. They took service in many places and with many people. I think they 
would live yet as a people; they are strong fighters and proud." His eyes met 
hers. "But never mind others. What do you plan? You will not stay here beyond 
the snows. I feel your restlessness even now. You could travel over-mountain to 
Estcarp. I could give you places where you would be welcome in my name."
Eleeri blinked. "Are there still trails?" Then she snorted at her own stupidity. 
"Of course there must be; otherwise you wouldn't have been able to get back. How 
does the land lie there?"
She watched as he drew a burned stick from the fire and drew on the stone floor. 
"I see," she finally said. "If I return along the mountain edge to the west and 
cross north, then I'll be in Estcarp." She laid a slim finger on the blank 
portion. "What land lies here?"
Cynan was silent for a long time. When he finally answered, she was conscious of 
a rising desire. There was something in the name of Escore as he said it, 
something which drew her even as the east had originally drawn her here to this 
secluded valley. She studied the map silently before she spoke.
"Our river—if I followed that, I would arrive in time in this land?"
"So I think, but I do not know for certain."
Eleeri stood and walked to her bedding. She hauled firewood, banking the fire 
for the night as she thought. The pull, the feeling of Tightness grew stronger. 
She settled into her bedding and allowed her body to relax.
From his bed the old man watched her face. Just before sleep claimed them, he 
spoke again. "You've decided, haven't you?"
"Yes. When spring comes, I will go to Escore. Will you come with me?"
"No. I was born here in this hold. I came back to die here. But if you meet any 
who knew me where you go, tell them I still live."
"I will." She drifted into sleep then. A destination determined. Escore… she 
would go to Escore.

3
The winter was both a time of friendship and a time of hardship for Eleeri. 
Cynan taught her all the scraps of languages he had picked up over a long busy 
life. To that knowledge he added warnings, hints, and beliefs about the places 
of the Old Ones, their natures, and beginnings. His mother had possessed some 
small gifts, so that the girl's increasing abilities failed to distress him as 
they might have another. The girl herself barely noticed that her gift was 
growing, stretching as she used it. She had always had the horse gift; it was a 
part of her.
But in the clear air of this new land, things were changing. Before she had been 
able to handle the wildest mare, soothe the most savage stallion. Foals had run 
to her for comfort. By the time she'd reached seven or eight, Far Traveler had 
been using her to start the training process for the horses he accepted. Beasts 
trained by her seemed to be calmer, more intelligent and sensible. Eleeri had 
loved the work but hated it when each four-footed friend left again. She knew 
that all too many owners would treat them as cheap machines.
She loved horses, the feel of hard muscle sliding under her hands as she 
groomed. The rough strands of mane, the scents and the sounds. But she loved 
most of all the feeling of communion she had with them, their trust and returned 
affection. Over that winter she did not regard it as odd that this communication 
deepened. It had been rare for her to keep a horse past the few weeks necessary 
to explain their new duties to humans. With these three she had spent much time 
and many months. Of course they had responded. But Cynan, watching, knew that it 
was far more. There were times when it was as if the minds of girl and horse 
mingled so that beast and rider were one.
He deliberately moved onto that subject one night. "Eleeri, the power often 
comes as it will and not as you will it." She glanced up, but said nothing. "You 
say that in your own land none have great power, only small gifts that tend to 
lessen with each generation." The girl nodded. "Then think on this. Here it is 
not so. It may be that here the gift you have grows. I do not believe it is so 
small as you think, and such gifts untrained can be dangerous. If you come upon 
anyone who can, let them teach you."
"Look, I don't think I have the power you do. But"— she looked up and smiled, a 
smile of affection for the old warrior—"I promise I'll get teaching if I can 
find a willing teacher. And"—she held up a hand before he spoke— "I'll make sure 
this one is of the Light before I begin to learn, okay?"
"Okay."
Cynan returned to the shirt he was mending and Eleeri to the deerskin trousers 
she was making. Over the autumn she had hunted well, and not a hide or fur had 
been wasted. The quiet isolation of winter was a time for using these. She 
planned to leave Cynan a complete set of the deerskin garments along with a fur 
cloak. She knew that nowadays his old bones ached in the cold. She also planned 
to make a pair of special knee-high moccasins for him. The hide under the foot 
was to be triple-layered and the moccasins would be fur-lined. That would keep 
his feet warm and dry when he must go into the snow to tend the beasts next 
winter.
She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. It would not be easy to leave. 
But he would be furious if she stayed. He would know it was to look after him, 
and his pride would be cut to the heart. She understood the pride of a warrior. 
She would not wound the old man by counting him as less than he was. He had come 
back to this place which had once been his, to die. They both knew it. Here in a 
tiny graveyard higher into the hills lay the bodies of his wife and last child. 
The bodies of his parents, and his siblings. The hold had been the refuge for 
his bloodline for so long, the years faded to dust.
Her mind wandered to his words. She wasn't sure… perhaps her gift was growing 
stronger. But why should she have any great gift at all? It was true that there 
had been medicine men and women of ability in Far Traveler's line. Too many 
times she had been forced to bite down on hot words as her schools decried those 
gifts, calling them native superstition. Something snagged on her thoughts and 
she dimly recalled the teasing that her grandfather had given his wife. Yes… she 
concentrated, and the memories grew a little clearer.
They had been around the table: her mother Wind Talker, her father, and his 
parents. It was on one of her grandparents' rare visits to Eleeri's home. Her 
grandfather had been speaking of Cornish superstitions and their use.
"… a method of control in many cases."
"Then you don't think there was ever anything more?" That had been her mother.
"Not to denigrate your beliefs, my dear, but no, I don't. I think that it was 
usually a way to handle large numbers of people. To persuade them into suitable 
actions. For instance, in New Zealand a tapu may be placed on shellfish to allow 
the numbers to recover after a bad season. The people believe they will be 
cursed if they touch them until the tapu is lifted. In this way their elders 
control them and the food supply."
He had suddenly chuckled. "If I believed all the old talk, I'd never have 
married your mother-in-law."
His son moaned. "Not that old tale again, Dad."
But Wind Talker was interested. "Is there some story?"
John Polworth leaned back, coffee cup in hand. "Story, that's all it is, but it 
does show the power of superstition. Your mother was a Ree before I wed her. The 
old folks said that was an uncanny line. Reckoned that a long time ago the women 
had been priestesses of another faith and that it was bad luck to wed them. 
Jane's great-grandmother was Jessie Ree. They said she could call storms or calm 
them if they came. Lot of rubbish, but my folks didn't want me to wed Jane."
Wind Talker leaned forward. "But you married her despite this."
"I did indeed, my dear. I'll have no truck with such nonsense, and so I told 
them. Jane Ree is the one I want and that was my last word on the subject." He 
drank from his cup and set it down again with a decisive thump.
His wife smiled at them. "It certainly was his last word. But his parents never 
quite accepted me until John said we were leaving. He'd had the offer of a good 
job across the water, and maybe the people there would care less about 
superstition and more about the fact he loved me and I was a good wife. So we 
came and we've never regretted it."
Eleeri sat, remembering the feeling of warmth and love that had surrounded her 
then. In later years she had heard other reasons for the hasty departure of the 
Polworths from Cornwall to their new country. A war had been coming, and John 
Polworth had no time for war. It didn't fit into his plans, to die fighting in a 
country far from his own, for a cause he was not sure he believed in. So he'd 
married Jane swiftly and accepted the promised job in America. By the time war 
touched the United States also he was in a reserved occupation. She might have 
scorned him as a coward. But Jane knew it had not been that alone. He would have 
been no use as a fighter and he knew it.
She wondered if he had ever regretted his decisions. He had loved his wife, that 
had not been in doubt. He had appeared happy in his work and country, too. But 
did he ever wish to be back on his rock and seagirt land? She shrugged. Perhaps 
he'd had a wish when he knew in that last few seconds that he and Jane were 
about to die.
It was strange that both her parents and grandparents had died in accidents. It 
had been the year following that night around the table. A vacation, a crashed 
plane—and among the dead, the names of her grandparents.
Her parents had been killed in a car crash the year after that, when she was 
nine. For a whole six months she had lived—derided, despised, and 
humiliated—with the Taylors, her aunt and uncle. Finally she had fought back 
with a smuggled letter to Far Traveler. But before he could come, her uncle had 
caught her releasing a horse he was breaking. She could not have helped herself; 
the animal's weary pain and confusion had cried out to her beyond refusal. But 
it had happened before. He was a man of quick and brutal temper and she was the 
despised Indian. He had beaten her far more savagely than he had intended, but 
it had saved her in the end. Far Traveler had come that afternoon.
Her relatives had made the mistake of refusing to allow him entrance. But with 
the rise of Indian rights and consciousness this had been more foolish than they 
had realized. Her great-grandfather had gone to find a man he knew. This one had 
spoken to others, and Far Traveler had returned with support. She had been 
brought out and, partly from the pain of her beating, partly with the knowledge 
that this might be a way out, had fainted within the circle of adults. Action 
had been swift after that.
She had been discussed, questioned, and refiled. Far Traveler had accepted her 
into his home, and certain friends had stood surety that she would be cared for. 
She might even have believed herself to have been safe, beyond the malice of a 
man steeped in hatred of her race, but for that last glimpse of him as she was 
taken away. He had watched, eyes bright with hatred. A long measuring look said 
that one day he would have his chance to pay her back for this humiliation. She 
had known that once Far Traveler died there would be no refuge. The Taylors 
would take her back, aided by social services people who would believe it was 
best for her.
She guessed that the years after that only distilled Taylor's hatred. That in 
the time before she reached sixteen he would be able to build a cage of lies 
that would entrap her, perhaps forever. She had made her choices, and freedom 
beyond hope had been the result. Maybe Ka-dih, Comanche god of warriors, had 
watched over her.
She now bent to her work again. Maybe the blending of the two bloodlines had 
each strengthened the gift. She knew her people had often had the horse gift, 
but hers was stronger by far than usual. She shrugged again. It was hers; the 
how no longer mattered.
Across the fire Cynan watched her, unnoticed. Firelight glinted on the high 
cheekbones, the aquiline planes of her face. The gray of her eyes turned to 
black in the shadows and the black of her hair to night. She looked to be slight 
with the long fine boning typical of his own race, but he had seen the strength 
under that deceptive appearance. The girl was a warrior. He'd spent much time 
teaching her sword drill, but even he could teach her nothing she did not 
already know with bow and knife. She moved with apparent slowness, the smooth 
motion deceiving the eye. In reality she was swift, fast-reflexed, and 
controlled.
From things she had let slip it would seem that her kinsman had trained her 
almost half of her life. You'd have thought the man had known where she would 
go, what choices she would make. Cynan smiled to himself. In all probability it 
had only been an old man's memories. The girl had been taught as Far Traveler 
had been in his own distant youth. In teaching the child, he had unconsciously 
returned to the days when life was simpler for his people. But in so doing, he 
had given her an excellent education for the world she now found herself in. 
Maybe the gods had had a hand in it after all.
His eyes touched her with affection. She was a good child, kind and generous. He 
must persuade her to leave as soon as the path was clear. If she stayed too long 
after that, she would discover his secret. It had been only her aid that had 
brought him through this winter. If she realized this, she might choose to stay. 
He would rather that she left believing him to be alive behind her. And so he 
would be, through the spring, the summer, and into the autumn. But he could feel 
the knowledge deep inside himself. As the year faded into the death season, so 
would he.
Before first snows he would be gone. He smiled; it was time.
But he would not have her here mourning over his body. He'd seen the pain the 
death of her kinsman still caused her. Let her ride out knowing she'd left him 
well prepared for next winter. As the last days of next autumn faded into the 
land, he would seek out the graves of his loved ones. There he would lie down 
and pass to join their spirits. He would not have the child there to grieve when 
it happened. Nor would he have her live the next winter alone in a deserted 
hold.
His mind wandered. The horses: he needed none of them; she must take the three. 
He wished to give her a leave-taking gift, too.
He rose quietly and strode up the ancient stone stairs. He'd given almost 
everything of value to his far kin before he returned here. One thing yet 
remained. He pressed a stone in the wall, caught at the edge as it swung out. 
Within was a tiny casket carved of a glowing golden wood. Fingers fumbled at the 
catch, then the lid rose to release a sweet scent and a soft flare of light. He 
chuckled softly. Of all the things he could have kept, it had been this one. It 
would weigh nothing; she had enough weight to carry. But that she would love 
this he knew; it was right for her. Perhaps Another had a hand in this, too.
He replaced the stone and returned to his mending. When the time came, he would 
be ready. In the meantime, it would be well if the child also learned to write 
at least one language in this world that was new to her. He rose again to fetch 
what he needed.
"What are you up to now?" Eleeri asked him. "You haven't sat still for a minute 
this evening."
Cynan looked at her thoughtfully. "There are several things I know which may 
help you in days to come. Two I could teach you while winter keeps us inside 
this hold: one is reading in the tongue of Estcarp; the other is signing."
Eleeri jerked upright, her eyes suddenly alert. "Your people have a sign 
language?"
Cynan smiled. "I see yours do also. Ours developed only with the need to fight. 
Oh, hunters had always held some signs in use. But when we rode to war and as 
scouts, the language developed greatly. You learn well and quickly. If your 
people also had such a language, I think you would have no trouble learning 
ours."
"Then I will, and I'd like to try reading as well. My great-grandfather always 
said that one should learn if any were willing to teach, that knowledge was 
never wasted."
"He was a wise man," Cynan commented. "Come, sit beside me and I will show you 
the signs. After that… I have only one book, but you will learn well enough with 
that to read."
The winter moved on slowly, and at last the thaw started. With many months to 
study, Eleeri could now sign in the simple language of hunting and war as well 
as any born to this variation. She could also read, albeit with some stumbling 
over unfamiliar words.
By now she was more than ready to ride. Furs and skins had all been made into 
stout clothing. Saddles and horse gear were mended and oiled. She would use the 
horses in turn to hunt, as yet they were unfit for a long trail.
Water trickled down the stones of the hold, dripped miserably from the roof, 
gathering in deep sticky mud in doorways. Eleeri heaved a sigh. She hated that, 
but it would all pass when the weather warmed further.
It did so, and to her surprise, Cynan insisted on coming out to ride once the 
land had dried.
"The mud has gone and my bones no longer ache so much." He smiled at her. 
"Besides, there is something I would show you." He refused to say more, leading 
her deep into the hills as her sturdy pony obediently followed the tail of 
Cynan's mount. They rounded the bend to find themselves in a small cup of flat 
land. Most of it was taken up by…
"The place of the Old Ones you told me about?"
"Even so, my child." He dismounted laboriously. "Sit here on the grass and 
listen." He waited until Eleeri was settled comfortably. "My people worship 
Gunnora. She is the Lady of fruit, grain, and fertility. Lady of love and 
laughter. In her name we celebrate the change of a girl into womanhood. The 
amber pieces you showed me are of great worth. They contain seeds and could be 
sold as amulets of her symbol. I think they did not come to you by accident. 
Guard them well. Do not show them to others, but if you can, pray to Gunnora at 
need."
Eleeri considered that. It sounded as if this Gunnora was the same as the Corn 
Woman, goddess to many Indian tribes. She would feel no sense of wrong in 
praying to Corn Woman under another name.
"I can do that, and I'll cherish the amber. What else?"
"In Escore and on your journey there Will be danger. Not only from beasts and 
man, but also from creatures of evil. They could imperil more than your body. I 
would ask of those who built this place if they will grant you guards."
The girl blinked. Was he going to ask for ghost guard dogs or magic swords?
Cynan saw her confusion. "You have seen me place the small pebbles I carry about 
the doors. Those are guards, in a way. While they lie in any entrance, nothing 
which is of the Dark can enter. Men who are wicked, that is another thing," he 
added as both remembered the bandits.
"Is this Gunnora's shrine, then?"
He shrugged. "For all the time my family has lived here, we have prayed to her. 
The Old Ones built this place, but if it was Hers when it was laid down, we do 
not know."
Eleeri studied it. It was simple, of a spare elegant design. Merely a pavement 
laid out in a star made from many hues of marble. Around the edge on each star 
point stood a tall white pillar. Yet it breathed a tremendous feeling of peace. 
Of a harbor safely attained. She was drawn again, rising without hesitation to 
approach the edge.
"What do I do?"
"Think about your need to be guarded from evil. Then step forward to stand in 
the star center if you can."
She obeyed. At first it was difficult. Cynan had told her of many creatures who 
fought against the Light. But she'd seen none. It was hard to create them in her 
mind, along with a request for protection against them. It became easier the 
longer she tried.
Holding them in her mind's eye, she walked forward.
Behind her, walls of mist lifted between the pillars so that she vanished from 
Cynan's sight. He relaxed. That which dwelled here had accepted her as Daughter 
to the Light. It might refuse her request, but she was safe.
Within the mist walls, Eleeri stepped to the star center. There she bowed her 
head in a polite acknowledgment. Warmth gathered around her. So, there was 
something here. She would ask for help.
She did so, to receive in turn a wordless question. How much would she value 
this favor? After that it seemed that her mind would burst, as into it flowed a 
montage of evils. She saw Gray Ones run mad, killing, rending with tooth and 
talon all who crossed their paths. She saw odd-looking small creatures covered 
with a long coarse hair like roots, who burrowed to bring a slow smothering 
death to those who fell into their traps. Pools of evil showed as blighted 
blotches on the land. Into them she saw those unguarded stray and be consumed, 
body and soul together.
She shuddered. "What do you want?" Fear grew as the images all but overwhelmed 
her.
You! Slay Cynan and I will give you power over anything you desire.
"NO!" Eleeri stepped back in anger. "You're supposed to be Light."
He is dying.
"His life is his own."
There was the sensation of being gathered into strong, loving arms.
Well said, child. The guards you ask shall be given. Before her a figure grew: a 
woman taller than Eleeri, with shimmering hair. It flowed golden down the 
straight back of the figure, caressing the woman's green gown, tendrils straying 
outward. Without volition Eleeri knelt. Her hands were caught in long fingers as 
she was lifted up again. Then Eleeri's hands were turned over. Into them the 
woman dropped four small smooth stones.
"Cynan will show you how they may be used. Good fortune ride with you, Eleeri of 
another people." She began to fade as the girl fumbled with the pouch about her 
throat.
"Wait, oh, please wait."
The woman's shape firmed again. "What is it, child?"
"A gift for a gift." Purple and blue fire flashed in Eleeri's hands. She held 
out the gems left to her by Far Traveler. Somehow it seemed right that she 
should offer them. The woman stooped. The green and gold seemed to deepen as she 
took into her hands the bright pebbles. Mist swirled, brightening in the woman's 
colors as she faded once more.
"A gift for a gift indeed, child. You who bear my guards also bear my symbols. 
Call on me with them in darkest times. I shall not forget you. Light bless your 
path." She was gone, and Eleeri felt almost bereft. Slowly, cradling her four 
stones, she walked from the pavement.
Cynan was waiting. He said nothing, seeing the stones and the strange look on 
the girl's face. Silently he led her back to the patient ponies. That night he 
taught her the stones' warding. He found it interesting how swiftly she learned. 
It had been a matter for gossip once. Did those who came through gates have a 
gift given by the passage? Or were only those with the gift drawn to gates? It 
was said that Simon Tregarth had had little of the power in his own land, but a 
far greater portion in this. Could it be that beyond the gates the power was 
damped, to bloom more powerfully once the gate was passed? A thought to consider 
over long nights.
It took a week for Eleeri to learn all Cynan could teach her of the four stones. 
By then she, too, was beginning to wonder about her power. Always she could 
remember her horse-gift. There had never been a time she did not possess that. 
But since her arrival in Karsten, it seemed the gift was growing, and expanding 
into other areas. Cynan had shared his own questions, so that she, too, 
suspected many in her own world might have latent abilities. Still she did not 
wish to hold power. From what her friend said, it made of one too good a target. 
Still, the four ward stones had replaced the gems in the pouch at her throat. 
She suspected they would be weapons to her hand once she began her travels 
again.
But before that she had something she wished to do.
Many things, in fact. She must hunt the yearling buck, culling out the smaller 
and weaker. They would be meat for Cynan. The old man had been trying to hide 
his growing weakness. He talked of her departure as soon as the last of the 
mountain snows were gone and the trails well dried. She knew why well enough, 
but it was his choice. If she was not there when he finally died, she could 
remember him as he had been to her: a strong friend and a teacher.
She hunted well. Then, closer to leave-taking, she made up her mind. The next 
day she would ride to the graves of his kin. She would scythe the grass short 
above the graves, place flowers. In her hunting she had found a brightly 
flowering bush with sweet-scented blooms. Now she raised one carefully. Back at 
the graves she gathered stone to stack along the earth that bordered where Cynan 
might wish to lie. She replanted the bright shrub in a mound of earth and leaf 
mold, next door to the grave of his wife. If he chose to lie there, it would be 
a fine marker for him who would have no other.
A month later, they rode down to the sea. There they gathered as much of the 
salt as they could scrape from the rocks. One by one they filled rock hollows 
above the reach of the waves. Over the next week the water would evaporate, 
leaving more of the priceless crystals.
With the coming of the warmth again, Cynan was stronger. His muscles moved more 
smoothly, but the knowledge of his death was still there. Each season from now 
on would be his last for him. Still, he often forgot as he hunted with the 
child, raced her along the beach, horses pounding through the sand.
Spring began to shift into early summer. His larder was filled with meat both 
dried and smoked. His bins were full of fruit and nuts, and the gathered greens 
the hills provided. At last he spoke.
"The trails are dry. It is time you left."
Eleeri nodded. "Next week."
"No." His head shook firmly. "That you said last week and the week before. Let 
you spend tomorrow with me, the next day preparing. Ride out the day after that. 
It is time." His hand stretched out to touch hers. "Child, child, to all things 
there comes a time. This is yours—to go. It is mine also, that you know but we 
will not speak of it." He eyed her sternly and nodded as he saw acceptance. It 
was well. He stood and yawned. "I'm for my bed, and you, too, youngling. In the 
morning I will show you I can yet run you into exhaustion."
She made a small jeering noise and headed for her own bedding. "I'll sleep 
eagerly to see that."
All the next day they spent together. They talked, strolling about the upper 
rooms of the hold as he told her of how it had been. They picked berries, sweet 
and sun-warmed, laughing like children together. They waded at the river's edge, 
spearing small fish. These were a wonderful evening meal spiced only with the 
sea salt and herbs from the hill's bounty.
The following day they readied the horses. Eleeri would have left him the 
strongest, quietest beast, but Cynan refused.
"I have no need of a horse. I never needed one before they came, I do not 
require one when they can leave with you. Sell two of them, trade one for 
supplies, I care not. But they are of no use to me." His real reason was 
unspoken but understood by both.
The girl said no more. Quietly she filled her pack with articles she might need. 
The stirrups she bound high on the two beasts she would not ride. Her chosen 
mount was a sturdy dun, black of mane and tail, with legs dappled high in that 
same shade. A good horse in hills, surefooted and sensible, with hues that 
allowed him to fade into the landscape.
She studied the other two. Both were more showy, one chestnut, the other gray. 
Both wore polished mended gear and should fetch good prices if she chose to 
sell. Finally she ran out of things to do and returned inside. There she blinked 
in surprise. From somewhere Cynan had found a large cloth. This had been placed 
over the huge old table. Somehow he had moved that toward the fireplace and 
decorated it with branches and berries. Candles spread puddles of light across 
the feast that lay there.
Within the doorway Cynan bowed ceremoniously. "Be welcome to my house, Eleeri, 
Daughter of the House of Far Traveler. Feast with me before you take your road 
again." He took her hand, drawing it through his arm as he conducted her to a 
seat.
She ate with determined appetite, laughing at his jests and storing all this in 
her mind. When they were done he stood.
"Long ago I had a thing made. It was to have gone to a daughter of my House. Her 
gift was friendship with beasts, and I deemed this which I had made to be right 
for her name day. But the turning came and she rode out to fight." For a moment 
his eyes held ancient pain. "She never returned, nor could they bring her body 
back to me. She lies somewhere in these hills, holding still her watch against 
the enemy. Now I would give this gift to you, if you do not count it unlucky." 
From under a leaf he produced the small gleaming casket and handed it to Eleeri.
The girl gasped. "It's so beautiful."
Cynan laughed. "The casket is not the gift, girl, that lies within. Open it and 
see."
He watched as she gently lifted the carved lid. Her eyes lit with wonder as she 
twined fingers in the cord to lift the pendant free. It dangled from her hand, 
carved from some black stone with bright ruby eyes inset in the tiny arrogant 
head. A loop of silver was attached to a lock of flowing mane and through that 
the plaited cord Eleeri twisted in her fingers. It was a horse, and yet not 
quite a horse: there was something in the stance that betrayed intelligence. The 
eyes seemed to hold a life of their own and to look boldly up at her.
"Cynan, it's wonderful. Where did it come from?"
"From these hills. I say that I had it made, but that is not correct. I had the 
loop attached, the cord plaited, the casket carved. The beast itself I found. 
Before the hills turned, there was a place of the Old Ones near here, perhaps an 
hour's ride away. After my wife died, I went there often for the peace and 
comfort it brought me. One day I found that. I took it up and it seemed as if it 
was a gift of the Old Ones. I thanked them for it. Promised that she who would 
wear it was one of some power and would cherish it with respect." He smiled. "I 
swear that it grew warm then in my hand. I took that as a sign it was truly 
right I should take it. Now it comes to you."
Her hand closed around it tightly. "It's the best present I've ever had. I'll 
never part with it, Cynan, and I'll always remember you when I see it." She 
placed the cord about her neck and shifted the tiny horse to hang in front. 
"Now—I have something for you, too."
She trotted away to return with a bundle clutched in her arms. "Here, shirt and 
breeches of deerskin and a fur cloak. You know how you feel the cold. And look, 
I made you moccasins to keep your feet warm. They have fur lining and triple 
soles." She giggled. "Go and try them on. I want to be sure I got the sizes 
right."
Cynan came down the stairs several minutes later. In the firelight she could 
almost believe him a warrior of the Nemunuh. His face broke into a happy grin as 
he advanced across the floor. He turned slowly.
"You have no need to worry. They fit well and they are warmer than any clothing 
I have had for more years than I would wish to number." He straightened. "I will 
wear them to bid you farewell tomorrow. For now let us sleep; it is best to take 
the road early. That way you waste none of the day."
It may have been a gift of the gods… they slept well and soundly that last 
night. Both had feared a wakeful night knowing this was good-bye. But their 
sleep was swift and their dreams kind. At first light both woke. Together they 
ate and drank in silence. Then Eleeri brought the horses and mounted. Beside her 
Cynan was dressed in the clothing she had made for him. She leaned down to take 
his hand.
"I will always remember you." Her vision was blurred by tears. "I love you." Her 
hand lifted. "For the feast you gave me, fair thanks. For the welcome of your 
gate, gratitude. To the ruler of this hold, all good fortune, and bright sun in 
the days to come."
Cynan moved forward and as she leaned down, he reached up to hug her hard. "Ride 
in strength, warrior. May your weapons never fail and may Ka-dih bring you at 
last to a place befitting his daughter." He slapped the pony firmly on its 
hindquarters and it started down the trail. As long as the road lay straight, 
Eleeri turned to watch him. At the bend, she lifted her hand and heard his final 
call echoing after her.
"Farewell, child. My love go with you."
She rode on, tear-blinded, knowing she would never see or hear him again. Ahead 
lay an unknown future. Thus far she had prospered. What would her tomorrows 
bring?

4
She rode steadily while daylight lasted. By now she had learned minor spells, 
and with them she set up a secure camp. Gunnora was very similar to one prayed 
to by the Nemunuh, and Eleeri felt at home with the amber amulets and the lady. 
Holding her amber, she marched from corner to corner of her small encampment 
invoking the protection of Gunnora. The Place of the Old Ones might have 
vanished in the turning, but she now had her four pebbles from the ruins, a 
valued gift. In the half-light they glowed a soft comforting blue and she placed 
them with care.
To this routine she kept as the days moved past her. It may have been the amber, 
or the pebbles, she did not know. But she saw nothing more dangerous, as she 
journeyed upriver, than the occasional beast at its hunting. These she always 
bespoke in friendship. The only event of note was the appearance of a 
magnificent female falcon. The hawk was clearly hungry and Eleeri caught a brief 
mind-picture of a nest full of squawking babies. She grinned in sympathy, 
sending friendship and tossing up a plump rabbit previously transfixed by one of 
her arrows. The female snatched it out of midair with a sharp cry.
As she flew with her gift, a feather fell from her. Long, sharply marked in 
black and white. A prize. Eleeri dropped from her pony to gather it in. Tucking 
it into her headband and mounting her pony again, she sat straighten There might 
be no eagles in this land she had found, but a hawk's feather was good medicine, 
the more so since it appeared to have been a gift. She would wear it with pride, 
remembering her people.
Days slipped into weeks as she moved through the mountains. Often she was forced 
to backtrack when the trail she followed became blocked or simply vanished. But 
there was a growing sense that drew her always to the northwest.
It was as if she were wanted there, as if a calling grew louder as she traveled. 
She laughed softly at her fancies, but she held her course. It fitted with the 
small amount Cynan had been able to tell her of an ancient land newfound by his 
kin. She hunted as she went, sharing often with those of the wild. She saw a 
hunting falcon several times and each time Eleeri offered food. It was found 
acceptable, and while the birds would not come near her, she was clearly to be 
counted friend.
At last the river shallowed, narrowing even though the land was flatter. The 
girl began to scout farther from it across the broadening plains. It was on one 
of those side trips that she saw the village. She allowed the horses to graze 
while she studied it, lying flat atop a hill. Not a village, really, more one of 
those holds like Cynan's. It seemed to consist of a main fortified building 
surrounded by other, smaller homes. Probably, if danger threatened, everyone 
retreated to the main protection. She'd be cautious. According to Cynan, they 
should be friendly, but it paid to be careful.
She called her beasts and swung into the saddle. Picking her way down the 
hillside, she allowed her mount to pace toward the gates. There was a 
considerable amount of noise coming from a fenced area behind one of the larger 
buildings. Over the babble of voices she heard the sudden blast of a furious 
horse, a whistle that rose in violent challenge. She made no attempt to resist 
that call, but kneed her pony around the building, there to halt in outraged 
fury.
Within a high-fenced corral a mare fought her captors. She was black as night, 
with a coat that gleamed in the sunlight. Behind her struggled a newborn foal, 
he, too, black, under the slime of birth. He fought to rise, but was as yet too 
weak to make his slender legs obey him. He fell again with a tiny squeal and the 
mare went crazy at the sound. Forgetting anything but the distress she 
witnessed, Eleeri raced her horses forward, almost trampling spectators.
Her voice rang out like a bell, "What happens here? What do you do?"
A dozen voices answered her. "A Keplian, lady. Gerae caught one of their mares."
"Why treat her so?" She noticed that the ropes holding the mare from her foal 
had slackened as those who held her stopped to listen.
"Why? But lady—she's a Keplian? the man before her spluttered. He seemed to 
think that was explanation enough. Eleeri did not.
"I don't care what you name her. Is that any way to treat a beast? What evil has 
she ever done you?" She eyed the man who hauled hardest on the ropes. "Do you 
claim this mare attacked you? Did she slay kin of yours, threaten your child? 
For what reason does she pay, and her foal with her?"
The man fell back at the sight of her anger. "She's just a Keplian. We kill them 
where we find them. They're evil." He straightened proudly. "Yes, they're of the 
Dark."
Eleeri was watching as the mare used the slackened rope to reach her foal with a 
comforting nose. "I see nothing evil here, just a mare who tries to protect her 
baby." From the confused babble behind her she heard a short conversation.
"… away from the hold."
"… gone to the valley. He'll not return for days."
"Then what do we do? This may be a woman of the power."
The girl hid a triumphant grin. Their lord seemed to have gone away for some 
time. Already this bunch looked disposed to fear her, at least a little. She 
sent a mental command to her mount, and allowed her back to straighten slowly. 
Horse and rider seemed to loom now in a martial pose, awing those who gathered 
about her on foot. Slowly—portentously—she removed an amulet from her shirt 
pocket.
She dropped lightly from her horse, walking over to where the handlers still 
kept a strain on the ropes. Lightly she touched the foal on his wet nose. The 
amber brushed the small muzzle and glowed softly.
She held the amulet high. "Gunnora has spoken: There is no evil in this one. He 
has harmed none and must be freed."
From the back of the crowd a man thrust his way. He was burly of build, with 
blond hair that glinted in the sun. He scowled viciously.
"The foal is too young to have done aught. But he will grow to be evil. All 
Keplians are followers of the Dark. Here we kill those who are of the Dark. 
Where do you come from, lady, that you do not know that?"
Eleeri returned question for question. "Where do you come from, man, that you 
would torture a dam and her newborn foal? Who told you they are evil, when 
Gunnora herself says the foal at least is innocent?"
His voice overtopped hers in a sudden roar. "Innocent? The Dark ones slaughtered 
my family when I was a child. A year since my brother was murdered by their kind 
while on a mission for those in the Valley of the Green Silences. Must we stand 
here while this woman seeks to take from us our lawful prey?" He moved forward.
"Are you so hot to kill that you ignore payment?" Eleeri asked softly.
The forward movement halted. "Payment?"
"Aye. Gunnora says that the foal is innocent. If she does not say the mare is 
clearly evil, will you release both to me in return for weregild?"
He blinked thoughtfully, diverted for this moment as he considered. "What do you 
offer, lady?"
Good, she was back to being a "lady" again. "I cannot offer you the worth of a 
family slain, a brother dead, but I can offer two for two." She waved a hand at 
the saddled, bridled horses that followed her.
A singularly nasty smirk spread over his face and he nodded. "Done, lady." Nor 
did he seem to care any longer whether Gunnora adjudged the mare. He held out 
his hand for the reins and both horses went to him at Eleeri's order.
"Now, lady. You get that pair out of here before sunset. You have one day. After 
that they're fair prey again."
"I will need to buy food, fill my water bags."
"No. You get nothing here. We do not traffic with the Dark. Take your 'friends' 
and get out before we stone you." He moved forward, with the savagery in his 
eyes deepening. She could see that he was delighted with his bargain but would 
attack her as well if he felt safe enough. His eyes had already begun to rest 
covetously on her saddlebags and plump bedroll. Her hand flicked to her bow, 
stringing an arrow before he could close on her.
"Stand back, man. I have bargained fairly and will have that for which I have 
paid." She called a sharp order to the men who still held the mare. "Release 
her." They hesitated, and she moved the arrow to center on the man who stood 
staring. "Release her, now!"
He called a reluctant command and the bonds fell away. With a swift heave of her 
body, the mare freed herself and leaped to her foal. With a sinking heart, the 
girl saw that the smirk was back. What now?
"All right, now let's see you convince that devil from the Dark to leave. The 
foal can't walk." He chuckled viciously. "The mare'll kill you if you go near it 
now she's free."
Eleeri nodded, but her heart lifted. He'd misjudged. "Maybe, and maybe I'll kill 
you if you don't leave now. You are a stupid, cruel, ignorant man. If all in 
this village are of your kind, I will be glad to leave. Now get away from here 
before I lose my temper." Her eyes flamed with rage and the man retreated. With 
a final sneer, he slouched around the corner, leaving a small group to stand 
watching. One approached cautiously.
"Lady, if Gunnora judges these, then it is not for us to naysay her. But truly 
their kind follows the ways of the Dark. We cannot trade with you for anything 
obvious. Gerae will know and make our lives hard for us. But if there is 
anything small we could provide?"
Her mouth suddenly watered. Her supply of salt was running low. If she had that, 
she could continue to feed herself easily by the hunt.
"Salt—will you trade as much salt as you can spare?" He nodded and vanished 
hastily along with others. They returned bearing small hide bags containing not 
only salt but ground flour and some kind of sweetener. From the bandits she had 
killed she had taken small coins in silver and copper. These she proffered with 
a quiet comment.
"Of Karsten but nonetheless valuable. Those who owned them have no more use—for 
anything, even hunting those not of their kind."
She could see that idea sink in. The word was even whispered in a soft hissing. 
"A spy—she has been spying in Karsten."
She handed over the coinage, watching faces. They seemed to be happy with their 
bargain but not so delighted that she had overpaid.
"Are there other villages to the north?" She would find out what she could while 
they were well disposed.
"No, lady." A hand rose to point. "That way is the forest of the Mosswomen." A 
finger swung then to the northeast. "That way are the mountains again. Between 
those there is the river. Gerae will pursue you; best you leave the Keplians and 
go. Then he will kill them and leave you alone."
"If he follows me," Eleeri said in a hard-edged voice, "it will not be a 
stranger to you who dies. Thank you for your trading." The man who had spoken 
for them nodded.
"Go in peace, lady. But beware of those beasts who are not truly beasts. The 
mare will kill if she has the chance, and so will Gerae. You are between the 
mountains and sea with no place to hide if you take them." He turned away, his 
friends following, fingering their bounty in the Karsten coins. Eleeri turned 
back to the Keplians. The foal had managed to gain its feet, but looking closer, 
the girl could see why Gerae had been so amused. At some stage it had been 
struck brutally across the hocks. The small animal's hind legs were swollen and 
bruised. There was no way it could walk any distance, and even as she watched, 
it sank back to the dusty ground with a forlorn whicker. The mare eyed her, 
standing protectively over the baby. Eleeri felt a surge of anger at the people 
who could treat, a tiny foal so cruelly, and before she had thought, she was 
moving closer, crooning gently.
The mare stamped warningly, and Eleeri reached out with her gift. To her 
surprise, she felt the tiny jet horse under her shirt give out a flare of 
warmth. Her fingers touched it. Strange… it was warmer than its contact with her 
skin warranted. She allowed it to fall before her throat and saw that the mare's 
eyes were fixed on it, wide with interest. She began to talk softly, explaining. 
The mare appeared to listen. Now she was trying to urge the foal to his feet 
once again. The baby tried and failed.
"Mare, we must leave here. That man will come back and kill your foal soon." She 
reinforced the message with mind-send, becoming interested in the strength and 
clarity of mind-pictures from the mare.
"If I lifted him onto my horse, I could walk and we could travel away from here. 
If you will let me help him."
From the mare she received a blast of distrust. Slowly she reached out to stroke 
the baby. As she did so, she allowed her mind to broadcast admiration. How 
beautiful he was, how strong and sturdy. How brave. It would indeed be a 
terrible thing to see him die. She would risk more even than she already had to 
prevent this. Her mind drifted to other horses she had knows, and to her 
surprise she felt a gush of contempt from the mother, a feeling of indignation. 
They were not horses; how some human had felt about those others was nothing to 
her.
Eleeri smiled, sending acceptance. But whether they were horse or not, that man 
would return to kill. Did the mare still wish to be here when he did? She did 
not. Then she must allow the girl to aid her foal or remain with him to see him 
die. Pictures of the mare fighting came in reply.
In return, the girl sent pictures of the mare dying, shot through with arrows 
and spears. Then her foal, bound, slaughtered, discarded, and dead.
Capitulation. The mare would graciously permit the human to help her. Moving 
with a slow smooth motion, Eleeri lifted the small beast and placed him 
comfortably on the bedroll-padded saddle. Taking the reins, she walked to the 
gate and opened it. The mare paced after.
They passed through and departed from the village. Hating eyes watched them go.
Gerae decided he would not follow too soon, or too obviously; his word had been 
given before too many. He would wait this day and the next. The moon was nearing 
full. Tomorrow as soon as the moon rose he would be on their trail. Then let the 
witch see if she could put him off with bribes and clever words.
His mind dwelled on her slender form, the arrogance of her voice. It would be 
pleasure indeed to teach her that he was not to be so despised. He spent his day 
making plans and preparing for a journey. It had been kind of her to give him 
the horses that would help him to take her.
Eleeri had learned well the lessons of war Far Traveler had taught her. He had 
passed along many wise sayings and warrior maxims. One might be translated as 
"Believe there will always be pursuit and act accordingly." She believed, and to 
the mare's indignation was acting accordingly.
They had struck the branch of the river within an hour's fast walking. There 
Eleeri led her small party into the water to travel upstream for another couple 
of hours. At the beginning of a long stretch of shallow water she allowed a few 
scattered hoofprints to show.
Then she turned them about and they waded back downstream. Where the river 
forked, she took the fork to the far side and continued to wade. She suspected 
that Gerae would follow as soon as he could escape the eyes of his neighbors. 
This wouldn't make it so easy for him, particularly if he sneaked off after 
dark.
She mind-sent this to the mare and received a feeling of amused agreement. 
Something about the response caught Eleeri's attention. There had been a note of 
intelligence in the sending. The amusement had been more sophisticated than the 
simple emotion of an animal. She spoke again, sending as she did so.
"May I be favored with a name I can use for you and the small one?"
Distrust!
"It doesn't have to be your own, just something I can use. Humans feel awkward 
when there is no name."
Amusement again, consideration. Then *I am Tharna. My son is Hylan.*
Eleeri halted her footsteps before she realized. That had not been the mind-send 
of a beast. It had been the clear concise sending of an intelligent mind.
The mare's mind sent wicked laughter. *Humans! They say we wear beast shape, 
therefore we are beasts, and stupid. True, the males of our kind are often not 
as bright, but we are more than mere animals, shape or no shape.* The mare found 
with surprise of her own that the human was pleased with this. *Why does this 
information delight you?*
Eleeri tried to explain and gave it up, simply sending her emotion in a rush of 
feeling. Increased anger at the treatment of mare and foal, friendship that 
could be deeper with an intelligent mind, admiration of the pair— of the mare's 
courage, of the foal's beauty. It was that last which melted the receiver a 
little.
*My son is a fine colt. I marvel, human, that you appreciate him. Yet I suppose 
even a dull human can see his beauty.*
Eleeri assured her she could. She glanced at the slender legs as they hung over 
the bedroll and a thought occurred.
"That man will pursue us all, I am sure of it. Do you know much of this land? Is 
there a place where you might be safe?"
*If he follows us alone, there are few places. There is nothing to divert him 
from our trail. Nor would my kind become involved. They would see no reason to 
do so. I see no chance of being free of him unless he is killed.*
Eleeri walked on in silence, considering. If Gerae wouldn't stop following, then 
he would just have to be dealt with. She'd seen his eyes on her and her 
possessions. If he could kill all of them, he would have a good horse, its gear, 
and everything else in her saddlebags. It might even be that the thought of loot 
pulled him more strongly than the death of the Keplians.
There'd been something else in his last look. If he took her unaware, she, too, 
might be a long time dying. He hadn't scrupled to torture a foal. Out here where 
no one would know her ending, he was unlikely to have scruples about her, 
either.
To take her mind from the thought, she began to question Tharna. "What do you 
know of the Dark?"
The mare's skin shivered in response. *There is a tower on the lands my people 
graze. For long and long it was empty. Half-ruined. Then one came. The Keplian 
stallions answer his demands. They have become still more cruel. We have always 
been enemies to others who share the lands. We kill them where we can, as they 
kill us. Now the tower lord demands we do not do this.*
"How does he enforce that?"
*He can lay on us a compulsion. At first he did so often. The stallions were 
used to bring humans to him.*
"How did they bring humans?"
Tharna snorted in apparent amusement. *Humans love horses. Are my kind not far 
more beautiful? We appear tame. When we appear willing to be ridden, humans will 
risk much for that favor. Once on our backs, they are caught. Unable to 
dismount. They may thus be borne to the tower.* She whisked her tail in disgust. 
*I do not approve. That is, I did not. Now I think it would be well if humans 
were all taken to this tower lord. They are his kind. Let him use them.*
"What does he do with them?"
"I know not. Only that they go in and do not come out again.* Eleeri was left to 
consider that in silence. Her mind then returned to the worry of Gerae. The 
mare, too, believed he would follow them. He might even be able to obtain help 
from others if he lied with sufficient conviction.
Her eyes went to Hylan. His legs were badly bruised, and she was no trained vet. 
It would be at least a week before the injuries healed sufficiently for the foal 
to do his share of the walking. On the other hand, Gerae already had two good 
horses, thanks to her bargain. He could ride both into exhaustion to catch 
her—if he could find them at all. With luck he was floundering about on a 
riverbank many miles from here. She regretted giving up the horses she had cared 
for and loved. Gerae might ill treat them in an effort to catch up. But if she 
kept to her tactics of muddling trails, he would spend more time watching the 
ground and riding slowly. That would spare innocent beasts as well as possibly 
gaining her and the Keplians time and miles on him.
Tharna agreed. Not that the Keplian cared for horses, or for humans, but the 
safety of Hylan was everything to her. If this man could be kept from her foal, 
she would agree to any idea which might work. She, too, understood the danger; 
with her colt unable to walk, she must reluctantly depend on the human to keep 
him safe. It galled her. But at least the human spoke to her fairly, treating 
her as a Keplian and not as one of the stupid beasts they rode.
Two days passed as they continued to follow the river road. At intervals they 
halted for the colt to nurse. At night they took it in turns to watch, half a 
night each. Both had the feeling that behind them Gerae followed.
They were right. Worse still, he was not alone but had successfully convinced 
two others to join him. Thus far they had been spectacularly unsuccessful in 
their hunt. They had chased the trail upriver, found the deliberate hoofmarks, 
and wasted more than a day following farther upriver as they scanned the banks. 
Then, fearing they had missed where their quarry had left the water, they had 
backtracked very slowly. They had then ridden on into the beginning of the 
mountains.
"She wouldn't come here, Gerae. It's to my mind they've gone on down the other 
fork."
"Why would they do that?"
His companion snorted angrily. "I reckon they won't take that foal into the 
mountains. It won't be able to walk yet, not for days. No, they'll stick to the 
plain. Hope to lead us into some Keplian trap. If we split up, we can check the 
bank on both sides at once. That'll cut down tracking time."
It did, but by the time they struck Eleeri's tracks again, she and the Keplians 
were skirting the mountain spur. They kept within the foothills. As long as they 
traveled at a walk, the foal was no great burden to the horse. At first the 
mare's bruises and lash marks had pained her greatly, but with the passage of 
days they healed slowly. The girl's obvious concern for her, the offering of 
herbs to help her heal, surprised the mare. She was not used to a human who 
liked her. That Eleeri honestly did, and that the emotions of that liking and 
would-be friendship were coloring her every mind-send, were gradually winning 
the mare over.
They had spoken little as they marched. Now Tharna found herself wanting to 
talk, to discover why this human was so different from those others she had 
known.
She hovered over her foal. Hylan was improving with each day that passed. Soon 
he would be able to walk part of the trail instead of being carried the whole 
time. The human's interaction with the foal had also surprised her. Hylan 
clearly trusted the girl and Tharna wasn't sure she approved that. But the human 
had helped the colt's injured legs, rubbing on the juice of mixed herbs to ease 
the pain. She laughed with him, stroked and patted him with affection. Lifted 
him with such care at each resting place. The mare watched her colt as he 
trusted, and slowly she, too, began to trust.
Behind them the pursuit had quickened. The three had met others, who had loaned 
them spare horses in their supposed pursuit of killers in exchange for their own 
leg-weary mounts. The trade enabled the trio to press the trail hard.
Days slipped by. The colt spent more and more of his time walking on his own 
legs now, strengthening with the love and care showered on him. Tharna felt 
strange as she watched the human throw gentle arms about him. She felt the 
overflow of love as Eleeri stroked her son. Without consciously deciding to do 
so, she had steered their trail around the Keplian lands. Thus far they had met 
none of her own kind.
She feared their reaction if they did. How would they see her wanderings with 
this human. Worse still, how would they view the friendship between a Keplian 
foal and human? She could guess at that one. She had no desire to see her son 
slaughtered as a traitor. As they walked, she began for the first time to 
question her allegiances. She wanted to talk over her thoughts but feared to 
speak. This could still be some trick of a cunning and clever race. Perhaps the 
girl had fooled her. Time would doubtless show, if she made no foolish moves 
herself. She paced on, following the lead horse.
Unknown to Eleeri, they had been seen. Valley scouts had spotted them as they 
skirted the mountains, and watched the direction of their travel. They had not 
been close enough to see more than a girl with three horses, but they mentioned 
it to the next travelers they met. These were Gerae and his men, well astray to 
the northwest. With that information they rode hard to intersect Eleeri's path.
*Do you believe we have left those behind?* Tharna queried as they slowed for 
the trailing colt.
The girl sighed. "I fear not. Indeed I had ill dreams last night, dreams of pain 
and death, of evil that swooped to drink blood." She quickened her feet as Hylan 
caught up. "I think we need to rest for several days soon. Hylan grows stronger, 
but all this walking is still too much for him. He needs time to grow in peace, 
but where do we find such a place?" As they followed the path to the east, they 
had climbed around the foothills. High up as they were, all were able to see 
that far ahead there lay a river, glinting brightly in the sunlight.
"Perhaps there in the mountains beyond the river we can find a place to be safe. 
For Hylan to grow."
The mare said nothing, plodding on. That direction seemed as good as any other 
to her. Only let the foal be safe. To ensure that, she would travel with a 
human, traverse her whole land, deal with demons and powers. Anything, as long 
as her beloved son survived.
She was young, Hylan her first foal. The coupling that had bred him had been, 
for her, a shocking experience. She had been overawed by the larger, older 
stallion. She had rebelled, but a bitten shoulder and several powerful kicks had 
subdued her. It was nature, but she was not eager to repeat the experience. At 
the moment she did not miss the company of her own kind.
That night as they camped, Hylan was better. Previous halts had seen him sore 
and leg-weary. But now, as the days passed, he was adjusting to trail life and 
his legs healed slowly.
This camp, for the first time he bounced as they halted. Eleeri went to him, 
running her hands gently down the slender legs. She massaged, stretching each 
leg in turn with a hand under Hylan's fetlock. He made small nickering sounds of 
pleasure, enjoying the attention. Released, he galloped in a wide circle, 
bucking as he flew past. Eleeri laughed, turning to Tharna to share the moment.
"He's improving. Soon he'll be outrunning you."
*I would give my life to have it so,* the mare sent soberly.
"Yes." Eleeri's mind turned back to their conversation of previous days. 
"Tharna, why are humans so afraid of your people?"
The mare was silent. Then she tossed her head. *Perhaps because we have never 
allied with the Light. Many stallions deliberately chose the Dark, so that we 
are all accounted evil. Shamans, others who seek aid to ride into darkness, all 
come to us. All humans know of us is that we carry them away, never to be seen 
again. Or that those of the Dark use us as mounts.
*Once as a foal I saw a human taken to the tower. It was just after the lord had 
come there. The man fought well. He cried aloud, calling on powers and 
struggling to leap from the stallion's back. He failed.* Her hoof kicked idly at 
the turf. *I do not approve of this. Let the humans leave us alone, and we 
should do the same.*
Eleeri agreed with a short nod. The conversation lapsed as they turned to watch 
the colt again. Hylan had no time for serious discussion. He was too busy 
enjoying the warm evening.
The next day, across the plain they marched. If they found a ford or bridge, 
they could cross. If not, they must search. Something told Eleeri that safety 
might be found in the bordering mountains.
She had come to love the Keplian foal; for Hylan she would fight as ferociously 
as his dam. She was unsure about the mare, sensing Tharna's own doubts about 
humans still. But it no longer mattered to her. She loathed the cruelty with 
which the Keplian had been handled. She would fight before she allowed Tharna to 
fall into such hands again.
Late that night she, too, wondered how others would act if their small company 
was spied. Other Keplians, of the true Dark or not, would surely seek to slay 
them all. She roused early and ate as she saddled the horse again.
There was a feeling at the back of her neck that said to hurry, hurry.
Next morning they moved out, heading directly for the river at a brisk walk. 
Hylan bounced along, and the sun was warm on their backs. But still Eleeri was 
uneasy. She felt as if hostile eyes watched. She eyed brush to her right. Was 
the danger there? Where?
Then from the clump of trees toward their left came wild cries. Eleeri spun to 
see three riders bearing down on them. In one flashing look she recognized 
Gerae. So, he'd found them and now he came to count coup, to take his prizes.
Tharna was racing forward to fight, but spears held her off. Her opponents 
laughed as blood streamed from her wounds. They would ride around her, take the 
foal. She could only die with the bitter knowledge she had failed him. She 
shrieked, rising on her hind legs. If it must be so, it must be so. Better to 
die fighting for her son than to live and see him die before her. She plunged 
forward.

5
Behind her Eleeri spun her mount, then froze him with a mental command. Her 
hands moved even faster as bowstring snapped taut and arrow flew. She had always 
had an eye for bow skill, but the years of Far Traveler's teaching and her own 
hours of practice had refined this even more. Now she shot, whipped another 
arrow to bow, and shot again. The men who fronted the frantic mare went down. 
Neither was dead, not for those fractions of a second before Tharna reached 
them. After that they were not only dead but bloodily so.
Gerae had seen them fall. He fled—at the fastest speed he could goad his mount 
to attaining. But arrows fly faster. Tharna had started after him, and as he 
slid limply from his racing horse, she reached him with teeth and hooves. Not 
until the body was all but shredded did she desist. Hylan stood by. To a small 
colt untouched, it was all very exciting, but he was hungry again. He whickered 
hopefully.
His mother leaped for him, running her muzzle over his body. He was uninjured. 
She swung her hindquarters to allow him to nurse and stood, deeply contented. 
The girl approached and Tharna made an ugly sound, a kind of low snarling.
Eleeri looked into her eyes. They blazed a terrible red. She'd never really 
noticed that before. But now that she thought of it, the mare's eyes had always 
had a reddish cast. Oh, well, Tharna wasn't a horse; it was probably the Keplian 
eye color. She moved forward, crooning to the colt. Her mind reached out to her 
friend as she did so.
Tharna was off guard mentally. For the first time the girl's mind penetrated her 
surface thoughts. She swayed in shock. Ka-dih, what was this one to whom Eleeri 
had given friendship? A roiling maelstrom of emotion met her startled mind. 
Different. Terrifying. She disciplined herself. This was Tharna. They had 
traveled together, cared for Hylan together, fought to guard one another. This 
was a Keplian, she reminded herself, not a horse; she must accept Tharna's 
differences and cherish the friend in her.
As she struggled, the mare stood motionless, waiting, poised like a predator. 
With a wild effort, Eleeri subdued her fears and walked forward.
"Battle-sister, is Hylan unhurt?"
A vast surprise enveloped her so that she halted. Her emotion? No, it was the 
mare's emotions she felt. She lifted a slow hand to stroke the mane out of her 
friend's eyes.
"What is all this surprise, and is Hylan unhurt?"
The mare found mind-voice. *My son is uninjured, thanks to you and your arrows. 
But—* she faltered, *you still wish to travel with me?*
"How not?"
*You touched my mind truly. I felt it, I felt your shock, your fear. Others of 
your kind have done this and always they have then turned against us to kill. 
Will you now hate me and mine, seek to slay?* She peered down thoughtfully. 
*Once, when I thought of this, I wondered if reaching our inner minds sent 
humans mad. Humans hate and fear us as it is. Maybe to know us is to fear us 
even more.* Her skin shivered.
Eleeri reached out again. This time, knowing what seethed below the surface 
thought, she was able to control her instinctive fear. Gradually she made sense 
of the seething power, the blazing emotions, finding they quietened as she did 
so. It was as if her own lessening of fear soothed the mare's. Using that 
knowledge, she smoothed out their emotions until both were calm again. She stood 
thinking as the colt nursed.
"Tharna, it seems to me that we act on each other."
The fine powerful head above her nodded.
Eleeri leaned against a warm shoulder, absently stroking it. "That first contact 
with your mind was terrible. But when I thrust away fear and returned, it was no 
longer so frightening. Now, as my mind touches yours without fear, your mind, 
too, is calm." She deepened the bond slowly and spoke then, asking the question 
she had thought before.
"Are you of the Dark, battle-sister? I do nor think so, but those others did."
The mare shook her head and stamped a hoof, bringing a squeal of indignation 
from the foal. He hadn't finished yet. His mother should remain still.
*We are not born to the Dark, only to shade and shadow. Some make the choice to 
join wholly with the Dark, others do not. Long ago when the adepts warred, we 
were made. Why, we do not know. They made other races, too.
*Many of the stallions turn to the Dark, fewer mares.
Our males are more warlike. The stallions resent humans, I think, for their 
fears, their hates, and for all that humans seem to have.*
"Would you turn to the Dark?"
The mare lowered her head to Eleeri's shoulder. *Not now, battle-sister. You 
killed your own to save mine.* A soft nose brushed against a softer cheek. *I 
have always refused to speak your name. Now I do. Eleeri I name you. 
Battle-sister you have named me. Do you also name me as friend?*
The girl's hands smoothed the warm hide. "I do so. Neither unfriend nor 
half-friend are you, but friend. Sister-kin, if you will accept it so, and kin 
to the small one."
Acceptance and a shy pleasure radiated from the mare. Arms about the muscled 
neck, Eleeri stood for long minutes, savoring the communion. She loved horses, 
but they could only fill her loneliness so far. But this, this was fullness. A 
kin-sister, a friend, one to speak with who could reply. One to care for who 
cared in return. She pushed herself away and took down the bag where she kept 
her herbs.
"A good sister would care for your wounds." She brushed on the soothing juices 
with gentle fingers. Her hands admired the powerful muscles, the sleek hide, the 
arched and flowing mane and tail.
Under twin pleasures of hand and mind, the mare relaxed, savoring the first deep 
communion she had ever enjoyed. Friendship wove its way through her being. Only 
with her mother had she felt this acceptance before. She felt the bitterness 
drain away, her hatred of humans who condemned what they could not understand. 
This one was not like that. This one had faced all she found, and accepted.
She felt as if she floated, trusting, serene. Long moments slipped by. She loved 
this one, battle-sister, friend, kin-kind. The Dark whispered to her—and was 
rejected. Who had need of such a night when sunlight beckoned? Besides, she knew 
well that always the Dark betrayed. So many of her kind had been seduced by its 
wiles, and lived only long enough to regret that seduction. She would not be 
one; she was shade and shadow, but not the Dark, never the Dark now that she 
understood the Light.
In perfect accord, the three set out on the last mile to the river. Hylan did 
not understand what had happened. He only knew that his mother and friend were 
happy. It was enough.
*Do we cross the river or follow it?* Tharna queried, scanning the plain 
doubtfully. In her mind Eleeri saw pictures of the Gray Ones who often roamed 
this area.
"If this is their place, best we get away. From your mind they're no respecters 
of either of our kinds."
They trotted hurriedly along the riverbank. No crossing could be seen and the 
water ran deep and strongly.
"Do you know this area well?"
Tharna shook her head. *I think the river runs far. It comes from the western 
mountains, and I have heard of a lake somewhere to the west also. The Gray Ones 
avoid the area; there are ruins there which are unfriend to their kind.*
"Good. Then we'll go that way,"'Eleeri said practically. "Any place they don't 
like should be right for us." She headed her mount upriver and the Keplians 
followed.
Now travel together was delight. They explored each other's ideas and the mare 
heard much of what a different world could be like. About them the scenery was 
unchanging.
Eleeri had time to muse upon Tharna's mind-pictures of the Gray Ones and what 
Cynan had said of them. It was possible Tharna's enmity for the creatures 
colored her impressions to some extent. Still, Eleeri thought, they did not 
attract her as any kind of ally. They walked upright in a slouch. The head was 
narrow, with tooth-filled mouth and small red eyes gleaming from shaggy, 
dirt-matted gray fur. From Tharna's memories Eleeri knew the brutes to be 
intelligent. Well, they could speak but rarely did. Their habits were such as to 
disgust most intelligent beings. They wore no clothes, nor did they carry 
weapons.
They were fighters if brought to bay, or in the grip of battle-madness. 
Otherwise they preferred to fight only when the odds were strongly in their 
favor. Like much of the Dark, they feared to cross running water. Until 
blood-mad, they would hold back from that.
Since they were nearing Gray One territory, Eleeri kept her bow ready now. 
Beside her the mare, too, was thinking. The way she and the human seemed to 
agree interested her oddly. The Keplians had no real legends of origin. There 
were only vague beliefs that they had been created by adepts during the ancient 
wars. Some had believed horses to have been the basis for that creation. They 
had been slain if they voiced that belief, though. No stallion would endure the 
idea. Yet it felt so comfortable to walk beside this human. So peaceful.
She watched the plodding pony. What would it feel like to bear a human like 
that? Not with saddle and bridle, but bare of back, feeling every shift and sway 
of the human's body? She thrust the idea away, concentrating on Eleeri's 
enjoyment of the day instead. She could read some of that. The river flowing by 
in crystal ripples, the stones' gray hues, the brown of river earth showing in 
patches where stones had shifted. Shrubs and often large clumps of trees 
provided shade and shelter for many bright birds.
For the first time Tharna found beauty pointed out to her, a mutual delight.
Their thoughts flowed together more casually now as they found pleasure in each 
other's company. Hylan, too, seemed to be gaining in intelligence. The mare 
wondered about that. Could it be that such communion allowed him to find 
potential denied to others of his sex? Stallions mated and fought—that was their 
destiny. But was it? She followed the horse as her mind grappled with new ideas. 
She was certain that no one of her kind had ever been friend and sister-kin to a 
human before. Or if they had, it was time out of mind ago. No legends existed of 
this. No human had ever been moved to accept a Keplian as friend; always before 
they had fled or given battle when minds touched.
But this one had done more. And it was as if Eleeri's acceptance of Tharna had 
opened new doors within the mare. As if—as if it were right that they be 
friends. The Great Ones of old had designed Keplians. Had it been for this, to 
walk as their friends? The human—no, Eleeri— admired her friend's beauty and 
strength. She spoke with pride that Tharna could outspeed the horse. There was 
love and friendship in her mind whenever she turned to Tharna or Hylan. Was this 
how it had once been intended to be?
The mare did not know, but she knew that this idea pleased her. Her kind lived 
in isolation even among themselves. A mare would fight savagely for her foal, 
but only as long as he suckled. After that, he was ignored. Would she cease to 
love Hylan once he grew?
She shivered her skin, to chase away the idea as she would a fly. Never. She 
would love her son as long as they both lived. Her head came up and, feeling the 
sunlight on her back, she leaped, twisting into the air. It felt good to unkink 
powerful muscles. She thrust up again and with a baby squeal of excitement Hylan 
followed suit.
Eleeri looked back and laughed as the Keplians bucked and bounced in the clear 
air. With their friendship assured, it was wonderful how Tharna had become 
almost a different being. The colt, too, was growing, in mind abilities as well 
as size.
*Race you to the river! *
They had drifted away as the water curved slowly to their right. Now hooves 
pounded as horse and rider, with the Keplian mare before them, thundered toward 
the line of trees again. Hylan fell back, baby legs unable to keep up with even 
a horse as yet. His indignant cry was lost in the drum roll of hooves. They 
halted at the river and drank while Eleeri puttered along the bank watching the 
current.
"Does a stream run from this to the lake?"
*As I remember, it does,* Tharna responded.
"Well, we'll stay this side of the river until we reach it. The stream should be 
shallower and so should the river, once we've passed the lake. We may be able to 
find a ford then."
The Keplian stared out across the water. It was true they could not risk 
crossing yet. Hylan was too weak to risk him in such a current. But the river 
was slackening; if it continued to do so, they might be able to risk a crossing 
soon. She would be happy to be out of the Gray Ones' territory. More than one 
Keplian foal had fallen to their teeth, even mares weakened by birthing or 
accident. She sent agreement and wandered on along the water's edge.
Hylan arrived then and she licked him lovingly. He was so strong, so beautiful. 
Altogether a marvelous son—there had never been such a one, so wise and so 
clever. She followed the water and Hylan trailed his mother as Eleeri remounted. 
Their pace was slow. Not that the land was so rough, but large thickets of brush 
were now appearing along the riverbank. Rather than force passage, the friends 
were detouring around these, and each took them farther from the river until 
they found a path back.
The brush was a nuisance, the girl thought. But it was beautiful. The leaves 
were a light and silvery green. Berries grew in bird-appreciated profusion, and 
many species feasted merrily. She leaned down to pluck handfuls for herself 
after checking with Tharna. The ripe globes burst sweetly in her mouth. They had 
the smallest touch of tartness to their taste, just enough to quench thirst as 
well as hunger. She ate as they traveled, and when the bushes began to thin out, 
she dismounted. To the surprise of the Keplian mare, her friend now dug in the 
earth by a bush. *
*What is it that you do?*
The girl looked up and grinned. "These berries are wonderful. I don't know where 
we're going, but I thought it'd be nice to have them when we get there."
As she spoke, she was carefully separating several tiny runners from their 
mother. She had dug out the turf in which their roots were encased and now she 
tucked plants and earth securely into a saddlebag. Tharna looked on, eyes wide 
with interest and amusement. Humans: no wonder the world changed about them. It 
would never have occurred to a Keplian to do that, even if they could. Yet why 
not? Would it not be useful to have food where you wished it?
They paced on, following the life-giving water. As Hylan tired, they rested; 
with the night they slept. Time had no meaning beyond that. Rain drove them to 
shelter until it passed, then they moved on again. As they waited, Eleeri had 
chosen sticks. Now as she rode she smoothed the shafts, looking them over 
carefully and discarding a few. Two of the arrows she had shot at Gerae and his 
companions had been broken in their fall. The third Tharna had broken in her 
haste to ensure the man's death. There would be other dangers; best she had a 
good supply of arrows. She worked as she rode; with Tharna ahead, the horse 
would merely follow.
Within two more days her quiver was full. She continued to work. It was not hard 
to do; she could converse with her friends as well. But once an enemy was 
sighted, there would be no time to make weapons.
Later she believed that something must have warned her. The impulse to make the 
arrows had been so strong. By the time they were attacked, she had more than 
three dozen riding in quiver and bedroll. Just after daylight they paused as 
Tharna mind-sent.
*Danger, sister-kin. The scent of Gray Ones comes to me on the breeze. They 
track us swiftly.*
Eleeri sent her mount into a slow trot. "How far ahead is the lake stream, do 
you think?"
*Last time the wind blew from there, it was far yet. But that was a day's travel 
ago. I think by now it is close, although the smell blows away from us. What 
should we do?*
Eleeri thought quickly. It was the art of a warrior to make such decisions based 
on little knowledge and yet be correct. She spoke and the Keplians obeyed. Hylan 
leaped into a canter, running ahead of his dam and her friend. He could 
mind-send some distance by now, sufficient for them to know what was ahead. With 
luck, the pursuing pack would see that the adults kept to a steady pace, and 
assume the foal merely played.
Hylan raced up the shallow rise ahead, scanned the land before him with staring 
eyes. Down a long slope the lake glinted ahead under the sun. A stream lightly 
tumbled to it from the lustier river. He sent that and ran on.
The stream could be crossed near its junction with the lake. The water was deep, 
but the adults would be able to forge passage; it was not that strong a current. 
He stood there waiting. His family was some way back by now and could not be 
contacted.
Within the trees the Gray Ones trotted more quickly. Ahead their prey was 
dawdling. They could come up with them soon, then the feasting. There were more 
than a dozen of the pursuers. They could overcome any miserable Keplian and 
human. Their mouths watered. The foal would be the most tender; the mare's 
despair would spice the dish. They hurried on.
Eleeri had held to the slow trot. It covered ground without tiring them, but 
kept them ahead. A quick flicker of her eyes to the rear and she saw that those 
who followed were closer. Still she kept to the pose of unwariness. Thama 
crested the rise and as they started down the long slope, both received Hylan's 
mind-picture.
As one they leaped forward, linked in battle plan. The thunder of hooves spurred 
the Gray Ones to hot pursuit, but the companions were minutes ahead as they 
reached Hylan and stream. With flying fingers, Eleeri detached her stirrup 
leathers, buckling them together and looping them about the foal's belly. Then 
she thrust her mount forward into the water, Hylan at his side. The support 
would keep him close, keep his head above the water as they swam.
At the stream Tharna turned at bay. She would hold the Gray Ones while her foal 
crossed. It looked as if there had once been a ford here, but either the water 
was higher than usual or it had altered over time. Now the water was deep enough 
to force Eleeri and her mount to swim, but there was still one advantage left to 
them. Along the stream banks, thorn bushes grew thickly; only at the ford was 
there a clear space to the water.
Perhaps in another place the bushes thinned, but the pursuers seemed disinclined 
to search it out. Tharna stood before the gap, hooves at the ready, teeth bared. 
Eleeri was pressing her mount as hard as was safe. Even with the thorns 
protecting her flanks, the mare was in a lot of trouble; those wolf things 
hadn't looked like pushovers to her. She splashed up the far bank, reached down 
to release the foal, and swung her horse back to the water. For a brief moment 
she sat to assess the situation.
Tharna was holding them. Not easily, but the hunt was unwilling to risk her 
teeth and hooves. Still the sounds were becoming more frenzied. Soon they would 
work themselves into a killing rage in which even death did not matter to them. 
If only Eleeri could break them before that occurred.
She heeled the horse downstream, where she could see the Gray Ones better and at 
an angle to the mare. Good. The bushes were low enough so that from the bank 
where it rose a little on this side, she could get a shot. She drew her bow, 
strung an arrow, waited as she breathed in, then loosed.
Before the hunt could react, another arrow was already in the air, then another. 
Thanks be to Ka-dih for driving her to making these. Crude they might be, but 
they carried well enough and shot straight over this slight distance. They also 
killed, as the Gray Ones could now attest. Within minutes four of their number 
were dead, three more wounded. It was enough for the pack. With yelps and 
threats, they withdrew. As Tharna swam to join her, Eleeri kept watch.
"What do we do about them? Will they follow?"
The mare snorted to clear her nostrils. *I think it unlikely. We have cost them 
dear and they like to fight only when the odds favor them. What they may do is 
alert any of their kind on this side. Best we leave swiftly and hide our trail 
if we can.*
Eleeri eyed her. Foam spattered sleek black flanks, blood dappled lower chest 
and one leg.
"What sort of shape are you in if we do have to run for it again?"
*If we must, we must. I'll keep up.*
The girl snorted in turn. "I'd feel happier if we cleaned you up first. Rest 
while I do it, then we can move on. Besides, I think Hylan is hungry."
The foal proved that at once as he slid around his mother's hindquarters, 
settling to nurse. Carefully Eleeri swabbed at the slight wounds marring 
Tharna's hide. They were shallow, but— a thought occurred to her.
"Tharna, those wolf-people, um—you don't get anything from their bites, do you?"
The mare looked bemused. With that question had come a very odd mind-picture of 
her turning into a Gray One herself.
*What is it you fear?*
Eleeri felt a little foolish, but better safe than sorry. "Well, in my world 
there are tales. That one who is bitten by a being like that will become one 
each full moon."
The mare felt a painful sensation in her chest. A constriction—her breathing 
began to choke—then she was making a terrible squealing whinnying sound.
Eleeri leaped forward in despair—it was happening. Oh, gods, there must be 
something she could do. Tharna pushed her back with a soft nose and stood head 
hanging down. In high indignation the girl suddenly realized that the mare was 
laughing. She relaxed. She'd never heard such a sound before, but her own mouth 
curved into a grin as minds met.
"So it doesn't happen here. I get it."
*Oh, sister-kin. It is as well. What a thing it would be if the Gray Ones could 
increase their numbers in such a way. But no, the only thing that their bites do 
is kill you if they go deep enough. These are shallow wounds, slashes more than 
bites. You have cleaned them, so they will not fester. Hylan has rested and 
drank; let us go now.*
Eleeri mounted and sat a moment surveying the land within eyeshot. The lake was 
veiled in a faint mist; something told her they should travel away from it. She 
nudged her mount upstream and studied the river. It was shallower after the loss 
of the stream water. If it continued to grow shallow, they would be able to 
cross it with care in a few more miles. The land was beginning to rise again 
very slowly. Ahead lay more mountains, deeply scored by canyons and ridges. Her 
heart yearned toward them.
She turned back to her friend. "Is there a direction you'd prefer?"
*None. Make a decision for us, battle-sister.*
Wordlessly Eleeri looked forward to the mountains. They called; she would 
answer. Within them it might be that they would find a place to shelter. If 
nothing else, they would find places to hold off Gray Ones who came hunting. Her 
mind settled as she kicked the horse forward. It would be the mountains.
The mare and foal fell in behind her as she rode. Unconsciously the girl had 
mind-sent as emotion touched her. They, too, were drawn by the mountains now. 
The tiny group trotted forward, leaving the stream and lake behind them. On 
their right the river tumbled, bright glittering water over black rock rapids.
Soon they would have to cross it before it shifted in the half circle that would 
drive them back to the lowlands. They reached the fork by nightfall. Eleeri 
reached for her stirrup leathers again and called Hylan. Tharaa was puzzled.
*Why cross now?*
"Old saying: cross rivers before you sleep."
The mare looked even more puzzled and the girl sent her a swift succession of 
mind-pictures. Of rivers that rose in the night and could no longer be forded. 
Of enemies who struck at a sleeping camp, leaving warriors with their backs to a 
river and no place to retreat safely. The mare nodded silently; agreement 
flashed between them. With the foal safely secured, they swam the shallow 
branch. It was close to dusk and they walked on to look over the other fork. 
There, too, the water was low.
They hesitated at its brink. To sleep here within the forks was to have a secure 
camp. Eleeri glanced thoughtfully at the banks and bushes. They could camp in 
that clump of high brush and be screened from casual view. There were large 
heaps of old dry wood along the riverside, tossed up by ancient floods. If she 
prepared a fire, it could be lit if danger threatened. Her suggestion was 
approved and even Hylan aided in gathering the logs. With that in place as 
darkness fell, all felt more secure. The wood was old and tinder dry. It would 
flame at,the very breath of fire, and Eleeri's lighter was always nearby.
Great dark masses against the half-lit sky and stars, the mountains loomed. The 
girl lay looking up at them and wondering what had happened to her over the last 
year. She glanced down at her watch. It ran on a long-life battery and still 
worked. She peered closer and smothered a sudden laugh. Today had been her 
birthday. She was seventeen today.
She drifted off to sleep, still smiling. It had been some birthday, running from 
werewolves in the company of a couple of talking horses. This last year had been 
a lulu. She couldn't wait to find out what the next might hold. It wouldn't be 
boring… She giggled drowsily and sleep came down like a cloak.

6
The dawn was fine again and the second river fork appeared lower. They crossed 
with care, trotting up the farther bank.
*Into the mountains?*
Eleeri still felt the drawing from the bulk that now loomed higher before them. 
Somewhere within that maze of upthrust crags they would find what she sought.
"Yes, but I see no need to make too great a haste."
They strolled, enjoying the bright sun, the berry bushes, the birds that were 
different from those of the plains but sang as sweetly. Hylan skipped, bucking 
and capering from one to the other. He was growing swiftly; soon he could be 
weaned and independent. Tharna feared that. In her own foalhood she had seen the 
colts change then. They became duller, more savage, more apt to accept the Dark, 
to be its tools.
She adored her son, her firstborn, but she had never been quite as the other 
mares herself. She had questioned, where they accepted. It was strange, 
traveling with Eleeri; it was as if some of the girl's intelligence was 
communicated to Hylan. He was more intelligent, more questioning than other 
colts of his age. He thought more.
They ambled on past tall trees housing squawking red and blue birds. Tharna 
paused to graze on a succulent patch of grass, her mind still busy. Ahead of 
her, Eleeri strung her bow and shot quickly. A rabbit dropped. A fat buck. 
Humans ate meat, Keplians ate grass, Tharna mused. Although those who accepted 
evil might well be fed on other, less savory foods.
Yet this was her sister-kin; she felt closer to the human than she ever had to 
her own kind. Hylan loved Eleeri. Keplians were like Gray Ones, Flannan, Thas, 
Krogran— all races made by adepts. Her mind made a sudden wild leap. Could it 
be—was it possible—could her kind have been made to accompany humans? Perhaps a 
human who loved horses greatly, one who wished for an intelligent one to walk 
beside him as a friend, not as a servant? She grazed absently, mind busy with 
this concept. In trusting the human who saved Hylan, in becoming her friend, had 
she unknowingly fulfilled a long-ago destiny? She decided she liked the idea, 
but she would not share it, not yet.
Into the foothills they moved, wandering along likely trails, investigating 
dead-ended canyons, and drinking from tiny streams. But always their main course 
was deeper into the mountains. Now and again they returned to the river, 
although it was greatly depleted by now, almost a stream itself. Eleeri was 
restless. It was as if something called her to act, but what she was to do, she 
did not know.
One morning before dawn, she shuffled off her bedding and rose to walk. Her feet 
took her higher, out of the gully and on up the slope above it.
From the north and a little west there came a sudden wrenching pull. At her 
throat an answering warmth awoke. With a stifled gasp, she leaned forward, 
opening her shirt. The jet horse pendant swung free, eyes afire in the miniature 
head. But even as she watched, they changed, no longer points of fire but now 
the deep blue of sapphires. She blinked. The color remained. Over her settled a 
conviction that this was a sign. She cupped the pendant in her hand and turned 
away. The eyes glowed red. Back to the direction that tugged at her—blue eyes 
again, and now light seemed to emanate from them also.
The girl looked down. Cynan had given her this as a leave-taking. Had he had any 
idea of what it was he gifted? She thought not. Slowly she allowed the pendant 
to swing free. Then she spoke in a whisper.
"In that direction must we go to seek the Light?" The pendant flamed, a 
brightness that made her squeeze her eyelids shut. She opened them cautiously. 
This was medicine of some kind. From what Tharna had been able to tell her of 
this land, it was unlikely anything of the Dark could counterfeit that of the 
Light. Thus the pendant was probably truthful.
She touched the tiny horse with a forefinger, stroked the proud head. "As you 
say, so shall we do. We travel to the north and west to seek the Light. Guard 
our journey, bring us safe to the Light." She did not know to whom she spoke, 
only that she felt them to be half friend at least, or even whole friend. That 
there was work for her here—that she was sure of. Did not the gods always seek 
human aid? It was ill to meddle with matters of the gods, but worse still to 
refuse an asked-for help. She paced slowly back to her bedroll. From the upper 
slope she had seen a single peak to the northwest. In that direction they would 
travel at daybreak. She hoped Tharna would not mind.
The mare was suspicious. *How do you know that you were not tricked?*
Eleeri held out the pendant silently. The eyes still shone a rich blue in the 
sunlight. The color of the light, of life. The mare was silenced. Her son 
bounced happily. To him it was an adventure. He was more than eager to be on 
their way, and already he was trotting down the faint trail in the direction 
Eleeri had pointed out. Girl and mare sent amusement to each other, swinging 
onto the trail behind him. Before them the peak loomed, but they would not 
hurry. Thus far they had seen neither Gray Ones nor other creatures of the dark 
in the hills, but it was as well to be wary. There could yet be dangers not 
altogether of the Dark.
In these higher hills feeding was thin. The mare must graze longer to find 
sufficient food. Eleeri found enough small game to feed herself with far less 
difficulty. She used the time to explore, allowing her mount to graze with the 
Keplians. On foot she scrambled up and down crags, investigated caves, and 
thoroughly enjoyed the stretching of muscles grown stiff from riding. Slowly 
they neared the peak. By now the imperative was strong enough to be felt by all 
but the pony.
*Why does it call to us also?* Tharna looked about her. *We wear no pendant; we 
are of the shadow. This is a thing of the Light.*
Eleeri, who was standing close, put up her arms about the sleek neck, then 
patted the colt as he pushed her for attention. "The pendant was changed," she 
said slowly, feeling the rightness of her words as she said them. "Maybe we are 
being led to a place where you also will be offered a change."
The mare reared back. *And if we do not wish to be other than what we are?*
"Then you shall not be," Eleeri said positively. "It is to my mind that you are 
offered a gift. It is for you to take it or refuse. I will not allow you to be 
forced into that which you do not wish. This I swear, sister-kin."
Tharna's agitation subsided. *We travel with you, but if I fear this thing we 
seek will change us against our wishes or even yours, our roads part. Until then 
they lie together.* She resumed grazing. Eleeri refrained from pointing out that 
by that time it might be too late. If it was, it would be too late for her, too, 
since she would set herself against anything that menaced her friend's wishes. 
She flung the thought from her with a twist of her shoulders. This seeking was 
of the light; she knew it. As soon as her friends had finished grazing, they 
would find the source of the compulsion. It could not be far away now.
After a long weary day of search, she was forced to admit her defeat.
"If this place is anywhere about, I certainly can't see it."
*I have heard that such places may be hidden. Your pendant showed you the 
direction. Should you not wait, eat and rest, then call on its help? Maybe it 
can aid us again.* Tharna was practical. Eleeri sank to the grass and dug busily 
in her saddlebag. From it she drew cold meat and a bag of rather tired-looking 
berries. From that the mare understood her advice to be accepted. She grazed, 
keeping an eye on the girl. If there was anything she could do to help when the 
time came, she would do so willingly.
Without intent, Eleeri fell asleep. The long day had been tiring, and with her 
stomach full, sleep came easily. She woke just as dawn flamed the sky. Her 
pendant slipped naturally into her hand and she gazed at it thoughtfully. Could 
it help her to find this mysterious place? *
The truth was, she wasn't at all sure why she was searching. Only that it had 
grown to be a driving force. At first it had been a quiet calling. A longing for 
a place to be free in safety. Later, with her love for the mare and colt, the 
need for a refuge had become obvious. They must have a place where Hylan could 
grow in peace, where they could live without fear. But under that there was 
still the call. As if something inside of her yearned for a home she had never 
known. It was foolish. She remembered her home with Far Traveler perfectly well. 
But this was something else. Something silly, Eleeri thought. It wasn't possible 
to be homesick for a place you'd never lived in. Was it?
She gazed at the land around her, foothills merging into solid higher mountains. 
The land was rough but not the brutalized mountains of the turning. There the 
witches of Estcarp had wrung out the mountains like a dishcloth, using their 
power. Here the land was simply ordinary mountains bordering this land of 
Escore. Far away over the horizon lay the Valley of Green Silences. There the 
lady led the fight against those of the Dark. Eleeri would stay away from the 
valley. It was just possible they'd expect her to join them. To conform. They 
might even object to Tharna and Hylan.
She shook her head. She and her friends would be better off finding a refuge of 
their own. She studied the pendant in her hands. Cynan, once he had seen she had 
the horse gift, had insisted on teaching her spells to go with the amber amulets 
and pebbles from the place of the Old Ones. She stared down thoughtfully. The 
pendant had helped her before. Would it aid now? From behind her came a soft 
whicker of amusement.
*No answers without questions, sister-kin. Ask!*
Eleeri bent her concentration on the pendant. Around it grew a soft glow, a 
blue-green that brightened by the minute. Without thinking, she reached out and 
gently drew the Keplians into mind-link. The pendant flared, giving forth a 
blaze of light so great that Eleeri's eyes shut involuntarily. About her throat 
she felt a tugging— harder, harder—then it was gone and she opened her eyes to 
stare in wonder.
Before them stood her pendant made flesh, a great black stallion. No true horse, 
Eleeri knew. This was the spirit of horses. Intelligence shone from the sapphire 
eyes, pride was in the crest of his upthrust neck. Power flamed in every sinew, 
power both of strength and the Light.
With a leap he was away, and they scrambled to follow. Hoofbeats clattered up 
the trail and the girl bit back a cry of exasperation. They'd come this way the 
day before. There was nothing here. She scanned the earth under the hooves of 
her pony. It was hard-packed, probably an old deer trail. Rock walls rose on 
either side, as if this had been originally a stream bed. The occasional drifts 
of small stones within the curves suggested this was so. But the trail was dry 
now. Perhaps a change of direction, a landslip higher up now diverted any water.
The stallion swung to one side. Here the curve was larger, more of an angle. He 
stood poised. Then, before them all, runes flamed blue on either side of a gap 
Eleeri had not noticed before. She gaped at them, recognizing some. Cynan had 
drawn them for her and taught her to use them along with her pebbles. They were 
ward signs. Below blazed runes of Light, runes of guard against the Dark. They 
were reinforced by some she had not been taught. But she could guess them to be 
of power.
She turned in her saddle to look back along their trail.
This was clever: The entrance was narrow. Any who entered on horseback would 
have to do so in single file. The trail to this point was also narrow, steeply 
uphill and winding. Above, it steepened still further. To reach this entrance 
from uphill or down, those who came would be moving with slow caution because of 
the trail. They must then thrust through an opening just wide enough for one 
mount. If a good-sized area lay beyond, they might well have found their refuge. 
Judging from the rune-guarded entrance, it would take a very powerful creature 
of the Dark to force its way inside.
The stallion appeared beyond the wards. He turned to watch them.
"This is it. I know it." Eleeri was sure now, but Tharna watched the stallion 
nervously. "What is it, do you fear him?"
The mare spoke softly. *Stallions often kill colts who are not their own get. I 
do fear him.*
"He's not Keplian," Eleeri said quietly. "And more than a horse, too, I think. I 
don't believe he'd harm Hylan, or us, either."
As if the great beast had heard her words, he paced toward them. A regal head 
lowered to nuzzle the soft nose of the foal. A half-rear, then again the 
reassuring touch to the foal, and he was away, back through the gap to await 
their decision. Before either adult could move, Hylan had followed, small neck 
arched in imitation. The runes flared up as he passed. Tharna eyed them with 
worry.
*What if they will not admit me?*
"Then we look somewhere else for refuge."
Eleeri could feel her friend's fear, but before them Hylan waited. Tharna moved 
toward him, step by slow step. The runes blazed higher as she approached. Slowly 
they changed; a more silvery hue now shone in them. The girl could feel that it 
was becoming an effort for her friend to move, as if she waded through deep 
water. Without thinking, she touched with her mind, reassuring, comforting. With 
that linkage the effort was gone. Freed, the mare leaped to her son and caressed 
him with soft nuzzlings.
Eleeri followed, seeing in her turn the runes' light shine higher. The stallion 
ran on into a widening canyon and they gathered themselves in his wake. Before 
the far end of the canyon he paused and reared. His commanding whistle rang out, 
echoing from the cliffs. Again and again he warned without words: they were not 
to come this far until summoned. Then he was gone. Eleeri ran forward in 
distress. She had grown to love her pendant, gift of Cynan. Was she now to lose 
it?
Half-hidden in the lush grass it lay, tiny sapphire eyes winking up at them in 
the sunlight. With a sigh the girl plucked it from its nest and threaded the 
cord through the loop again. She felt a little strange with it now, knowing what 
it could be. Yet surely, if it had not been intended for her to take it up once 
more, it would not have returned to this form.
She strained her eyes to look down at the end of the canyon forbidden to them. A 
mist lay there, shot through with warm golden glimmerings. Power smoked from it. 
She would stay well away until asked; that was not something to meddle with 
uninvited.
She gazed about the remainder of the canyon. Surely this had been a hold once. 
In contrast to the outside, here the grass was lush and thick. Fruit trees and 
berry bushes lined the cliffsides.
Berry bushes! That reminded her. Laughing, Eleeri reached for her saddlebag to 
extract the tiny saplings she had taken. Then and there she dug out a square of 
turf in line with those other bushes. Lovingly she placed the saplings to add to 
the line. Water? She stared about as Hylan lowered his head; she could hear him 
drinking. She trotted over to see what he had found, to be amazed by the water's 
container. Hidden by the knee-high grass was a spring welling up. It flowed into 
a marvelously carved stone basin. Yet it was not this that amazed her. The water 
appeared to be flowing uphill from the spring. She measured with her fingers. It 
was true.
Oh, well, as long as the water continued to flow, she should leave well enough 
alone. She reached for her pack and took from it some of the dried meat. She had 
no time to hunt; the place was of too great an interest to do aught but explore. 
She wandered along, staring as she walked. If in high summer there was still 
water and good growth, then this was indeed a suitable place for them to remain. 
But why had they been called here? Perhaps the answer lay in the golden mist. 
She'd wait; sooner or later she'd find out. There was no hurry, she reflected, 
the peace of this place seeping slowly into her bones. She rounded a natural 
buttress in the cliffs and found herself looking at human habitation. She fell 
back with a small cry.
Then she grinned. The doors gaped wide, rotting from their hinges, and within 
she could see the drifts of leaves piled up on stone floors. How long had it 
taken for the doors to fall away? she wondered. Yet the spring still flowed. She 
studied the massive stones. They needed no power to seal them; they were 
sufficient to themselves. Only the wooden doors had failed, and they could be 
replaced, no doubt.
She walked over to' stand before the entrance. Would she be welcome here? She 
placed a gentle hand on the massive stone doorpost. Runes glowed into life, the 
now familiar blue. She could not read them, but a comforting warmth stole from 
them, like a welcoming hand that greeted a beloved visitor. She moved to the 
doorway and paused, speaking to anything that might hear and accept.
"To the ruler of this place, gratitude for roof shelter, no harm from me or mine 
to thee and thine. I come in peace."
The runes' light shone a little greater so that she took it as an answer. 
Steadily she walked through the doors, entering the great hall which spread 
before her. Down the center of that ran a huge ancient table. It was carved from 
wood, of a type she had never seen before. Dust lay thick over it, but when she 
brushed that away, the wood shone, polished, a red-gold whose grain seemed to 
glitter before her eyes. Chairs carved of the same wood were placed along it, 
but they ran along one side only, that which was farthest from the door.
Two huge fireplaces were set to the rear of the wall, behind the table. Eleeri 
stared. It would take a man working full time just to chop enough wood. Or had 
that been provided by some use of power? Water ran into a basin attached to the 
wall near one of the hearths. She crossed to it. A horn cup on a silver link 
chain still remained. Then she stooped to look. The water ran into the basin, 
but there was no outlet. From where did it come, to where did it go? The soft 
splashing made her thirst greater. She lifted the cup, filled it, and drank. 
Then she lifted it in salute to the shadowy hall. Was it her imagination, or did 
something stir at that acknowledgment?
Eleeri decided she wasn't going to question things here. She was sure she was 
meant no harm. That being so, it would be unmannerly to question whatever 
occurred. She would stay polite as a guest should and wait to be invited into 
the forbidden land of mist. In the meantime she was hungry, and growing tired.
She returned to her horse and hauled her gear inside the hall. She rubbed him 
down, then left him free to graze with a gentle slap on his shoulder. Quickly 
she kindled a fire in the center of one of the fireplaces and roasted a rabbit 
on a spit she found there. She peered higher to discover there was also a rod 
which swung out above the flame. She'd heard of that Gaily she hung her 
coffeepot from the upturned end and watched as the water boiled. She drank, 
leaned back against the stone wall, and sighed in satisfaction.
In the saddlebags she had looted from Gerae's followers, she had found a packet 
of dried leaves. They produced a sort of herbal tea with a taste of sweetened 
lemon. It wasn't coffee, but then she hadn't been crazy about coffee anyhow. 
This lemon tea was more to her taste. She had been running low on it, but within 
the lines of bushes outside she had seen perhaps four or five that looked to be 
the source of the tea leaves. In the morning she'd check.
Her mind moved on to Cynan. What was he doing? Was he still strong enough to 
manage with what she had left for him? She had liked him, and yet when the time 
came she had ridden, leaving him alone. She knew this had been his wish, but she 
regretted doing so.
Still, he was a warrior; it was for him to choose his time and his dying. That 
was the white-eye way to deny a warrior the right to make his own choices. To 
drag one off to a hospital, there to die slowly, growing more bitter as the body 
withered. Far Traveler had also chosen. He had not wished to die shut away from 
the sky, from Earth Mother, from all her scents and the sounds of the mountains.
She remembered his last moments. It was well, very well. He had died as he had 
lived, in the clean air, in freedom. She grasped the pendant in her left hand.
"Look down on me, kinsman. Do not forget one who will ever love you. In this 
strange land let your wisdom guide me as it did in that other." For a moment she 
felt a hand caress her hair the way the old man used to do to bring comfort to a 
small child. She felt his presence then, and reassurance that she, too, was 
loved and remembered, even from the sky trails he now followed. She sank down 
into her bedroll, a smile curving her lips. She slept, and if her dreams were 
more than she would recall on waking, that, too, was right.
During the night it began to rain lightly. While she slept, the Keplians had 
entered the hall and now dozed comfortably under a sound roof.
*This is a good land, kin-sister,* the mare announced as Eleeri opened her eyes. 
*There is more grass than we can eat, the water is sweet, and no Gray One could 
pass the gate runes.*
"What about Keplians?" the girl teased, but the mare was serious.
*I think few of the males could pass. Perhaps some of the mares, as I did. The 
foals: of them it seems to me that all would pass. They are innocent, having 
committed no evil.*
Eleeri considered that. "You think that the runes measure innocence. That may be 
so, but what evil have you done?"
*None, but we are of the shadow. The runes were not swift to let me pass until 
your mind touched mine. Then that which held me back was gone.* Her sending 
softened. *I have wondered, kin-sister, if our meeting was not meant. Together 
we have overcome that which would have mastered us had we not stood as one. I—I 
feel toward you as I have never felt, even to one of my own kind. Kin-sister you 
are in truth.* She turned inquiring eyes toward the girl.
"I, too, feel this way." For a moment they remained still, gray eyes meeting the 
flowing red fire that were the mare's orbs. Then Eleeri chuckled softly. "All 
this talk makes me hungry. I plan to find a nice fat bird, to do something about 
that." But as she passed the mare, her hand slid out in a loving caress. Tharna 
was content. Her kin-sister understood.
Over the next few days they relaxed, sleeping when they tired, eating as hunger 
came. Eleeri found herself constrained to hunt outside the canyon but accepted 
this as common sense. In case of siege or illness, she would be grateful birds 
and other small game abounded within reach.
But as the time passed, they all grew restless. Hylan no longer needed to nurse, 
but ate the grass which abounded at his hooves.
They had been there several weeks when Eleeri and Tharna felt a drawing from the 
outer lands. They consulted silently. Then as one they acted, the girl calling 
her horse, tossing his gear up and swiftly bridling the willing beast.
Hylan remained, but together Keplian and human left the canyon and hastened down 
the trail toward the lower lands. They had wandered, moving slowly as they came, 
but now they struck straight for their goal, the river. After a day's swift 
travel, they were there. Eleeri climbed a ridge and stared out over the area.
*What do you see?*
"No reason to call us here."
*We go on?*
The girl climbed down and swung into the saddle as reply. In silence they 
marched on along the riverbank, heading ever deeper into the Gray Ones' lands 
once more. Both knew this to be dangerous, but the call continued.
They would be wary, and with no smaller, weaker foal to slow them, it was 
unlikely the Gray Ones would be able to catch them, if the two had any sort of a 
headstart.
Suddenly Tharna jerked up her head. At the same time, Eleeri halted the pony, 
seeking out the source of her unease.
"What is it?"
*Death—death comes to those of my kind.* She had no need to add that it was a 
death in pain and terror. That echoed in both of their minds. Eleeri nudged her 
mount into a slow trot as the sensation broke off abruptly. One was dead, but 
the sensations continued, although weakened.
They rounded a long line of trees together just as the feeling faded again, then 
again. Now there was nothing but emotions: terror, loss, panic. There was a 
youngness to those, a formlessness that signaled no adults remained.
Eleeri strung her bow in one flickering movement, laid an arrow on the string, 
and touched the pony with a gentle heel. He edged out from behind the bushes, 
Tharna at his side. Before them three foals stood shivering, as Gray Ones 
circled. To one side, Keplian mares lay quiet in death. The Gray Ones were 
playing, knowing they could kill at whim. The terror of the foals provided a 
vicious amusement until, in one flashing second, that changed.

7
Beside Eleeri there was a snort of fury and a roar of swift hooves. Thama 
charged down on the foals, crying for them to follow. A Gray One thrust forward 
to intercept her, to be sent flying with a well-aimed kick. Another slashed at 
her heels, only to find she had swapped ends and he was seized in savage teeth. 
They met through his spine as he was hurled lifelessly aside. The foals screamed 
in terror, leaping for the big mare. They were too young to form thoughts into 
words as Thama did. Nor could they send far. But at this range they were almost 
deafening mare and human with their emotions. Before they had reached Thama, 
Eleeri had counted enemies. Nine, with two already down.
The girl had not waited to see more. Arrows flew; Gray Ones howled in pain and 
fright as they died or bled. Thama had charged. To her the babies ran 
desperately and she stood over them, ready. Eleeri circled, continuing to shoot 
as the wolf-creatures attacked her. But they relied on tooth and claw, and the 
pack tactics. She swung the pony beyond them and shot again and again. Tharna 
was withdrawing slowly, foals clinging to her flanks.
The attackers slunk back, howling their baffled rage and frustration. Eleeri 
watched. They preferred to face safer odds, it appeared. She guarded the rear as 
her friend headed for the river again. With a sigh, the girl removed her 
leathers. She was getting tired of crossing this river. She grinned to herself. 
She'd better not say that; it was a safeguard, since the Gray Ones would not 
cross. She cantered after the Keplian mare and foals.
The babies were afraid of the water. They balked at the brink, but Tharna was 
not to be halted by juvenile intransigence. A swift nip sent a colt forward with 
a surprised squeal, more of fright than pain.
Eleeri pushed her pony into the water on his downriver side. He swam valiantly 
and her assistance was limited to a grip on his mane, which helped him find his 
feet again on the far side. The two younger, smaller fillies needed more. By 
now, too, the Gray Ones had recovered some of their confidence. But as they 
raced forward an arrow storm met them, so that they rolled screaming and 
howling. With the trembling babies behind them, girl and mare faced the 
remaining enemies.
"If I hold them, can you get the other two across?" Eleeri hissed.
*If they do not panic,* Tharna sent. *If they do, I have no easy way to aid 
them.*
Her friend snatched a look behind her at the two foals who cowered in their 
shadow. They couldn't be more than a few weeks old. Keplian foals seemed to be 
born small. True growth didn't come until they reached two or three months of 
age; then they seemed to grow as if they were being inflated. But these two—she 
hooked a foot out of her leather.
"Watch the Gray Ones."
Moving quickly, she released the stirrup leathers from her saddle and flipped 
one around each foal. Buckled into the last and next to last holes, they fitted. 
Good. Now if one did slip, the mare would have something to seize.
She swung back onto her mount. The enemy had begun to advance again, hoping she 
was occupied. Seeing her attention was on them once more, they backed away.
Keeping her eyes on them she signaled the. mare. "Go! One at a time." She 
watched from the corner of an eye as mare and foal plunged into the water.
Among the enemy there seemed to be some dissent. Eleeri thought she could hear 
growls and occasional snarled words. She was correct; the gray ones were furious 
at the likely escape of prey. But they had died in sufficient numbers to make it 
clear these two were not to be trifled with.
Their current leader was making the best of it. "Watch them. If we can, we pull 
them down. If not, we still have three dead ones to feast us." His look boded no 
good to Keplian and human, though, and his memory was working busily. A Keplian 
with a human. It could only be the pair he had heard of a few weeks ago. A pack 
had hunted them, to find themselves the hunted instead. They had lost many of 
their pack as the prey escaped. Back in their own lands he would bespeak all 
packs that they should watch for these, kill if they could ever be caught off 
guard. It might be some trick of those from the valley. He would show them the 
Gray Ones were not so easily taken or tricked. His lips peeled back from fangs 
as he snarled his frustration.
His fellows were less interested in the escaping prey.
Behind them lay enough meat to feast on for days. Longer, now that half their 
number was dead. The wounded were thrust aside as the rest sought the best parts 
to begin their meal. The last filly gave a tiny whimpering squeal at the sight. 
Eleeri cursed the feeding enemy harshly and she reached over to stroke the 
shaking foal.
"Don't worry, little one, we'll get you to a safe place, and your mother can't 
feel anything anymore." The baby looked up and Eleeri was struck all over again 
with the red fire that swirled in Keplian eyes. Her fingers curled around her 
pendant, feeling it grow warm.
"Help me get her away safely," she whispered softly. "And I hope that meal 
poisons the lot of them."
Back in the old days, as she remembered, wolvers had poisoned cow carcasses with 
all sorts of compounds, but mostly strychnine. They'd been after stock-killing 
wolves, not Gray Ones, but by all the gods she'd like to see this lot killed by 
the very mares they'd murdered. Once, when she was a child, she'd seen a 
container of the deadly powder. Her hand tightened on the pendant as she 
recalled the descriptions Far Traveler had given her of its use and actions.
The third foal was safely across and the mare was sending impatiently. 
*Battle-sister—Eleeri! Stop thinking and get over here before you provoke them.*
The girl came to herself with a jolt. Wordlessly she swam her mount across the 
water, then led her group along the trail. One hand still gripped the pendant, 
its warmth unnoticed. Nor did she see that the tiny eyes glowed with a wicked 
fire. Long ago the girl had also seen the molecular structure of strychnine. Now 
that knowledge swirled almost to her conscious before subsiding again.
The Gray Ones feasted heartily before sprawling in the shade. They snapped and 
snarled lazily, and the wounded were careful to watch their uninjured 
companions. At present there was enough meat for all. When the time came that 
there wasn't, they must be on guard.
Mare, human, and rescued foals were all well up the trail and out of earshot 
when the commotion began. A Gray One found his arms and legs had begun to shake. 
Then another began to twitch. The spasms increased in severity as one by one all 
fell into the pattern. Only the wounded that had not been permitted to eat were 
free of the trouble. They, in turn, trotted over; with their fellows occupied, 
now was a good time to feast. Their satisfaction was shattered in a short time 
as the first of them also began to twitch. The spasms became continuous until 
all gasped, unable to breathe. Finally they went limp.
Far up the trail, Eleeri still sat her mount with a hand on the pendant. 
Strychnine was a cruel death, so she had always heard. The worst of it was all 
the other deaths that led from poisoning a carcass. The stock killers died, but 
so did anything else that ate the poisoned meat, be it bird or beast. The 
wolvers had rarely bothered to clean up the lethal remains. That was wrong. No, 
on second thought, she would not wish such a death on even the Gray Ones, not if 
it meant the innocent dying with them.
Where the Gray Ones lay in death's rictus, a bird landed. It hopped to the meat 
and began to feed. It was joined by others. They ate eagerly and departed, to be 
replaced with others. All were safe. Sometimes wishes can be more powerful than 
the one who wishes will ever know.
In another hour the foals were beginning to falter. Eleeri consulted with Tharna 
and called a rest break. Then she drew the mare aside.
"What are we to do about feeding them, sister-kin? All are young. The colt might 
manage on grass and water; he's no doubt been eating grass as well as nursing, 
from the size of him. But the fillies are far too young."
The mare was serene. *Hylan no longer needs my milk. I have fed him because it 
pleases us both, but it was not necessary to him. Now I will feed these 
instead.*
Her friend surveyed her. "That'll be a real drain on you. You've been nursing 
Hylan for months and now you switch to feeding two foals for months more."
*True, but even if I can only give milk for another month or two, they may then 
be old enough to manage part of the time with grass.* Eleeri nodded doubtfully, 
saying no more. She couldn't bear to see the foals starve, but still less did 
she wish to watch as her friend wasted away, her strength going to feed the 
babies. She glanced over to where the three slept, slumped on the grass in utter 
exhaustion. Poor little things would probably be grieving badly, too, as soon as 
their strength returned. She would push this trip as hard as they could handle. 
If they were tired out, they'd be less inclined to mourn.
It was so, although the foals may not have appreciated her motives. Hylan was 
delighted at their safe return, and with playmates. As the older, stronger, and 
smarter, he took leadership at once. Even the other colt deferred to him 
carefully. Indeed, his deference was so marked, Eleeri wondered.
*Stallions kill easily,* the mare enlightened her.
"Hylan isn't a stallion, and I don't think he's a killer by nature, either. In 
horse herds it isn't that unusual to have more than one stallion. Not if it's a 
large herd."
Tharna snuffled. *That's horses. With our kind, the stallions are very quick to 
kill any who appear to defy them, mares and foals alike.* She saw her 
sister-kin's eyes widen. *Yes, I tell you this. I have seen it happen. It was 
why I wandered far away from the lands of the Keplians.*
She saw that Eleeri was interested and continued. *I bred to one of my kind so 
that I was in foal to him. He was slain by another, who would have bred me, but 
I was heavy in foal. If the foal died, I would come into season at once and he 
could breed as he wished. He would have slain my foal at birth so that none of 
his rival's blood survived. I knew what he would do. I knew him, too, to be 
vicious and cruel to mares, so I fled from our lands. It seemed then that 
anywhere I would have stayed was claimed by another creature. I was pushed 
farther and farther to the south.*
She snorted. *Then that Gerae found me. I was ready to foal, so that he was able 
to place ropes about me. Then he dragged me back to his village, where I and my 
foal were to be tortured, then slain.* Her head came up as her eyes flamed ted 
with remembered fury. *Hylan was born and they gave me an hour to love him. 
Murderers, twice cruel. Then they would have killed him before me, but that I 
fought them.* Her sending softened. *Then you came, battle-sister. I know humans 
are cruel, but I will always know, too, that they can be as you are. At first I 
hated you, also. I accepted your help, planning to kill you as soon as we were 
safely away.* She saw the quirk of her friend's mouth and blinked. *You knew!*
"It was—um—rather obvious."
Amusement gurgled between them.
Tharna curved her neck proudly. *I learned to know you, to trust. I am not 
ashamed to change, to alter my mind. You saved us both, but I feared some kind 
of trick: that you saved us only to use us yourself. Then you fought for us 
again, killed your own kind to save my foal. I saw that you would risk yourself. 
That is not the way of one who plans to use. I watched you with Hylan, saw that 
he loved you, that you loved him, also. I began to believe in your kindness. I, 
too, came to—*
Her sending broke off as Eleeri flung warm arms about her neck, hugging as hard 
as she could. The girl cupped her hands over the soft muzzle, giggling as 
powerful teeth nibbled gently.
"I know. I love you, too, kin-sister, you and Hylan. You're my family, and these 
three little ones, too, if they can accept that." Her voice ended on a 
questioning note.
The fillies will love us all. They are younger, more adaptable, and prepared to 
love any who are kind and gentle with them. The colt I am not so sure of. He is 
slower of mind, more ready to sly violence if he thinks we do not see.* Her 
sending grew sad. *I fear it may be too late for him to learn love.*
"Do you think he recalls the way here?"
*No, part of the way we came in the dusk. He was exhausted and did not think to 
look about him.* She snuffled thoughtfully. *I do not believe he even knows for 
certain if we went north or south.*
"Then we'll see he doesn't learn, if possible. But we may have to make a 
decision sometime if he looks like he would be a danger to us all." Eleeri 
sighed softly. Things could never be simple. But that was life.
Weeks passed, then months. Outside it was winter, but within the canyon the air 
seemed to remain warmer. The fillies had grown, ceased to nurse, and gave their 
names trustingly. The colt, too, had given his, but the look in his eyes grew 
wilder as time went on. Eleeri marked her eighteenth birthday and taught the 
foals to enjoy celebrating their own. Hylan was smug; he already knew about 
birthdays. It was that smugness and the growing desire to dominate that thrust 
the younger colt into action.
Terlor flew at Hylan, teeth bared, hooves already striking out. Taken by 
surprise, Hylan nonetheless fought back. He was larger and stronger, but 
reluctant to injure his fellow. The younger colt had no such inhibitions. He 
attacked with a driving fury that sent his enemy to his knees. Tharna arrived 
just as Eleeri came running from another direction.
"Stop it, Terlor! Stop it!"
Her voice went unheeded as the mare waded in. With ruthless efficiency, her 
teeth clamped down on Terlor's neck as she hurled him to one side. She stood 
between him and her colt, eyes dangerous.
Eleeri marched up to the panting youngling. "What did you think you were doing?" 
His ears went back and his muzzle shot out, teeth grabbing for her. She evaded 
him neatly as her hand slashed across his nose. She had handled biters before. 
But Terlor was no horse. Even dull-witted though he seemed to her, he was 
Keplian. It had been a feint, and a hoof upflung caught her hard behind a thigh. 
She fell, rolling so quickly his next strike missed.
The mare came then in a drumroll of hooves, eyes suddenly crazed with anger. 
Massive hooves drove down, the colt squealed in pain and fear, the sound cut off 
as hooves crunched down again. Blowing through her nostrils, the mare stepped 
back from the body. Her mind was sad.
*There was no choice, sister-kin. He intended to kill you. He was too dangerous 
to allow freedom. He would have been sure one of us was alone next time so help 
would not come.*
Eleeri knelt by the body. Hands smoothed the black hide as tears stole down her 
face. "I know." She stood. "But now what do we do with this? We don't want it 
rotting here."
Without thinking, she clutched at the pendant. From it a mist arose, silver, 
laced with soft golden glimmerings. It swept out and over Terlor. When it 
cleared, he was gone, as mare and human stood staring at each other.
"Automatic garbage disposal," Eleeri said, looking stunned.
*What?*
"Nothing. Look, Tharna, I hated Terlor dying, but you were right: he'd have 
killed me. If he'd stopped, we could never have trusted him. His mind was too 
clear just then. He wanted us all dead—you, me, and Hylan. That way he could 
have the canyon and the fillies."
She said no more, but departed with bow and arrows. Hunting would soothe her, 
and a fat bird or two from the lower foothills would soothe her stomach. As she 
walked, she thought. There was a surprising difference between the colt they had 
rescued and Hylan. Tharna's son was not only large and powerful for his age, he 
was also far more intelligent. Tharna was sure it was the constant companionship 
he shared with his mother and Eleeri. Colts were usually pushed away from their 
dams as soon as they were able to survive alone. This seemed to be partly for 
their own sake. A Keplian male never hesitated to kill a colt that wasn't his 
own. In fact, from what Tharna had said, he didn't hesitate long even if the 
baby was one of his blood.
As a result, the abandoned small colts learned savagery to survive. In turn they 
killed foals, used mares as they willed. The cruelty was self-perpetuating, and 
in many ways it seemed similar to the pack rule of the Gray Ones.
But what of a colt brought up with love, taught gentleness by a dam he loved, a 
human he trusted? Would he in the end revert to stallion behavior, or would he 
breed a new race of gentle intelligent Keplians? The partners to humans that 
Tharna thought they may have been created to be so long ago? At Eleeri's throat 
the miniature gave out a sudden light, a shaft of warmth that attracted her 
attention. She lifted it up.
"Is that it? We were called here to change things? Is Tharna right?" Secrets 
twinkled in the sapphire eyes, but she was suddenly sure her guess was correct. 
She grinned, strolling off along the faint deer trail. Well, it made for an 
interesting theory. But if they were to breed a new race with just Tharna, 
Hylan, and the two fillies, it would take rather a long time. Her own people had 
raided for children to strengthen the tribe. They'd accepted any child as 
Nemunuh if the children showed they wished to be and had the skills. Adults, 
too, had been accepted.
That sparked a thought. She'd talk to Tharna once she found meat and returned to 
the canyon. It sparked another as well. She found herself wondering as she 
trotted along: With all this breeding going on, where did she fit in? Was she to 
be barren, or did the plans of the someone who'd started all this include a mate 
for her, too?
She laughed, throwing back her head as she padded off on a fresher trail. Never 
mind a mate. If her other idea was right, she'd be too busy to think of anything 
else. She made her kills, a fat hill hen and a small half-grown buck. She could 
dry the meat within the huge old fireplace. There was a hook well up within the 
chimney, as she had discovered. In the meantime, she'd eat the hen while she 
discussed this new plan with her battle-sister.
The mare was interested. It would soon be spring, when trails opened again to 
the lower lands. It would do no harm if they merely scouted Keplian lands.
They set off together a month later. Hylan remained to care for the fillies. He 
was becoming a strong young yearling who thought as Keplian stallions had not 
bothered to do for generations. The fillies adored him. At present they looked 
up to him as a protective big brother. In another couple of years that would 
change. Meanwhile, Hylan enjoyed being left alone in the canyon with his 
charges. It made him feel important and removed some of the sting of not being 
permitted to accompany his dam and her kin-sister.
Down in the plains once more, Tharna cantered briskly along the river's edge. *I 
know all the places to hide once we reach our lands. If only you can persuade 
that horse to cooperate.*
She regarded the pony with scorn, and Eleeri grinned. The mare despised the 
sturdy little dun as a mere copy of a Keplian. She would never have wounded her 
friend's feelings by the obvious retort.
Two days later, they were drifting unobtrusively around the fringes of Keplian 
country. Twice Tharna wandered toward another mare and exchanged gossip. 
Self-centered as their race was, none remembered that she had fled under strange 
circumstances almost a year ago. As long as she remained out of sight of any of 
the stallions, they were safe. After several days of this, Eleeri was well 
bored.
"What have you learned so far?"
*That nothing changes.*
"Very helpful. When do we do something about it?"
The mare eyed her friend with amusement. She had seen the growing boredom and 
expected a demand for action would come shortly. She could provide that to some 
extent and proceeded to explain. Eleeri was slightly surprised.
"You mean she'll come with us just like that?"
Tharna's shoulder twitched. *Not so casually as you make it sound, kin-sister. 
But she will come. For her there is no choice unless she wishes to see her foal 
killed at birth. Her herd lives close to the old Dark Tower. The stallion lord 
was recently slain by a rival, who has taken the herd as his own.*
Eleeri nodded. "So according to stallion habit, he'll kill any nursing or 
newborn foals not his own."
Her friend sent sadness. *That he has already done. Only this young mare 
remains. She bred late and will not bear her foal for another month.*
"So she'll come with us to give her baby a chance."
*More than that. She fears if the stallion attacks her newborn, she may not be 
able to prevent herself from attempting to protect it. A stallion is likely to 
kill her, too, for that.*
For the remainder of the week, Tharna slipped out to speak with the distracted 
young mare. Choosing a time when the stallion was in a different part of his 
territory, the three trotted quietly for the river.
With the new addition safe in the canyon, the two comrades returned to Keplian 
lands. Over the course of a spring they added another young mare and two 
orphaned foals to their family. Eleeri surveyed the results with satisfaction. 
Three adult mares, three yearlings, and three foals. A nice balance of ages so 
far, yet still Hylan was the only male.
In fact, the girl had come to believe two ideas. One was that only a male foal 
raised with love from the very beginning would fit into canyon ways. The other 
was that with the way that stallions killed even tiny colts, Terlor had been 
something of a fluke.
Orphaned foals were simply left to stray or starve. Many fell to the teeth of 
the Gray Ones, others to the irritation of stallions. Life was difficult enough 
for a mare; few would accept a strange foal and risk shorting their own foal's 
nourishment. Yet Eleeri believed most of that was learned. In an atmosphere of 
peace and plenty, attitudes could change in a bare generation.
Summer followed, harsher than usual down on the plains, but in the canyon, water 
flowed and grass grew thick and green. Tharna and Eleeri spent a lot of their 
time now shadowing Keplian herds, watching and listening. Twice they managed to 
save orphaned foals and return with them. The girl had even made a short trip 
down through the lands to the southwest. There she had successfully bargained 
for several nanny-goats and a male. The milk might not be exactly what they were 
used to, but the starving foals would drink it.
By the time winter came, they were twice the number spring had counted. Still 
three adults, and three more than yearlings now. But the babies had increased to 
a dozen. At that point Eleeri had called a halt and taken the mare aside.
"Before we accept others, we need to look at what we have. How many of us can 
the canyon support? Even with no outside addition, we are going to start growing 
as soon as Hylan is old enough to be accepted as a stallion by some of the mares 
here. Once that starts happening, our numbers will go up like a startled hill 
hen."
*Before that time we may have found other solutions. I have found a strange 
thing, kin-sister.* Eleeri waited. *At first I had great difficulty passing the 
runes. Now I pass freely. Our friends, too, had to link somewhat with you before 
they were permitted to enter. Now the mares pass as freely as I do.* She paused, 
then her sending became diffident. *Could it be that the power here now measures 
us as of the Light?*
Her eyes were hopeful on the girl who stood there. Eleeri could not answer. She, 
too, had noticed this thing happening and wondered. But she would raise no 
hopes.
"I can't say. I've tried to ask the pendant, but no luck." The discussion turned 
back to herd size, but there was a sad look in the mare's eyes. Later that 
night, Tharna drifted silently down to where the silver mist sparkled and 
coiled. What was behind it? What did it hold? She had no way of knowing, but it 
drew her. Somehow she desired to be part of it, accepted as one of the Light. 
She had never known when this desire had begun, only that it had been part of 
her as long as she could remember—as long as she had the hope that there was 
another way of life for her kind.
She blew softly through wide nostrils. That change she had seen here; if she 
lived long enough, she might see the other. Her mind yearned as the mist 
wreathed her gently. Had there been any there to see, they might have thought it 
a trick of the moonlight, as for a fraction of a second her eyes appeared to 
glow a soft gentle blue. Then the mist folded back into itself and there was 
only a fire-eyed Keplian mare standing quietly, moonlight silvering her hide.

8
Winter came slowly that year. The snows held off, the air remained warmer, and 
the land gave of berries, nuts, and fruit as never before. It all made Eleeri 
very suspicious. The wisdom of the Nemunuh said that a time like this was Earth 
Mother's warning: times ahead would be hard. Store food, eat well, and prepare. 
She did so, gathering everything she could in the large woven baskets Far 
Traveler had taught her to make. Dried meat she stored in one of the rooms above 
the great hall.
But if times were to be cold as well, perhaps she should think of more bedding. 
She had more hides than she needed; those could be traded for woven stuffs at 
the same village as where she traded for the goats.
Tharna was reluctant. *The way is far, the road dangerous.*
Eleeri laughed. "Both true, but when the land warns, the wise warrior listens. 
Come part of the way with me; Hylan, too, if he wishes."
There was an eager whicker from the young stallion, and the friends shared 
amusement. The girl stood, stretching slowly, enjoying the pull of fit muscles. 
It was a strange life, this one she lived, but it contented her. She had friends 
who were as family, a kin-sister and kin-son, a strong roof, and ample food. The 
water was clean, the air clear, and the hunting good.
A shadow swept across her face then. Who was she trying to persuade? She loved 
the life, the Keplians, but she missed human companionship. No, let her be 
truthful in this, since it was only to herself she spoke. Years were passing. 
She was almost twenty; her heart cried for a mate. She watched the Keplian mares 
with their foals, the pride of Hylan and his gentleness. Her body hungered, but 
not for food. She silenced it. What would be, would be. She must live with 
contentment if other joys were not granted. But there were humans she could 
visit.
She remembered her first trip to the lake keep, two days' ride down the stream 
and along the lakeshore. Originally, many long generations ago, it had been 
lovingly built. Then it was abandoned during the adept wars. Later, those who 
lived there now had given it new life.
She chose gifts to take. The first time she was sure she had been closely 
watched, but neither lord nor lady had appeared. Instead she had been offered 
shelter in the same stable as her pony. No one had challenged her. But she was 
eyed warily all the same.
Another trip would be fun. The village about the main tower was small: just a 
well-fortified keep, central tower, inner courtyard, and a circle of cottages 
about it. In all, not more than forty people. The lord, his kin, and the three 
families who served him directly, along with armsmen, lived in the central keep. 
Cottages served for those who raised the garden vegetables and tended the 
animals.
It was a small but happy community as far as she had seen.
She rode in close to sundown, the dun pony striding eagerly under his load of 
furs and hides. This time the stableman brought an invitation as soon as the 
pony was relieved of his burden.
"Lord Jerrany asks if you will dine with him and the Lady Mayrin. After the 
meal, they would be pleased to see what you have brought."
Eleeri's ears pricked up at this. Interesting. Last time she had been treated 
with a wary condescension. Oh, the people had been polite enough. But it was 
clear that although they asked her no questions, they wondered at a woman who 
rode alone. She had conducted herself carefully, showing only courtesy and some 
of the lesser furs she had brought on that first trip. No sense in exciting 
greed. But with this invitation it was as well she had chosen to pack a couple 
of gifts suitable for a lord and his lady.
She waited until the man had gone, then opened her pack. She would place those 
carefully chosen presents on the top before lacing the tough material closed 
again. For a moment she lingered in the stable, brushing the pony as he leaned 
into the slow strokes. She had learned enough from Cynan to know that in some 
ways this Escore was a ghost-ridden land. It was haunted by those who had died 
in the adept wars, those slain by the Dark and those who served it. But with the 
coming of others from over-mountain in Estcarp, new life had sprung up.
Cynan had said that with the newcomers the Dark had been stirred to action once 
more. But also small places such as this which had been long dead, had risen to 
new life. Her eyes flickered about the stable. This would have been rebuilt. It 
looked as if the roof was new, but the stone walls were old. Her own hold was 
like that. Well, she would take a quick look about outside. Last time she had 
not wished to, in case they took it amiss.
She nodded to herself as she walked to the door to stand looking out into the 
growing dusk. The keep had been carefully situated by whoever had raised the 
ancient stone walls. It tucked into a tight curve at the far end of a lake. In 
addition, the builders had bounded it by digging a ditch deep into the rocky 
ground. This completed the encirclement, so that the entire village was 
surrounded by running water. A potent spell, as the girl had learned.
She walked to the edge of the stream. The water had cut deeper over the ages so 
that it now ran through a deep channel and must be crossed by a bridge. She 
studied the mechanism—clever! The bridge could be raised to prevent passage. She 
looked closer and grinned. The locking bar was of forged iron. So the lord and 
his lady knew that trick.
But then, in this land they'd be fools if they didn't.
She peered along the bridge, and her invitation to dinner started to make sense. 
At the far end, where she had crossed casually only a short time before, there 
was a new addition. It wasn't obvious from the approach side but could be seen 
quite clearly from where she stood.
At the far end, thin forged iron bars had been inset into the wood between the 
planking. They were recent; she was sure she'd have noticed them had they been 
there before. Ancient stone posts guarded the bridge's approaches, and from 
where she leaned, she could see a faint blue glow. It looked as if runes of 
protection had been placed there in slight hollows. They would be unseen by any 
approaching, even crossing the bridge. But it would take a Dark one of 
considerable power to cross. And such a one would set the runes to blazing.
So that was why she was now welcomed. The keep defenses had passed her as one 
who, if she did not walk in the Light, at least was not of the Dark. The sun was 
setting. She hurried back to the stable.
Shouldering the pack of furs, Eleeri tramped into the hall. A handsome man 
clothed in rich fabrics—obviously the Lord Jerrany—rose to greet her, offering a 
guest cup.
"To the farer on far roads, the welcome of this roof. May fortune favor your 
wandering."
Eleeri's hand went up as she allowed the pack to slip to the floor. "For the 
welcome of the gate, my gratitude. For the feast, thanks. To the lord and lady 
of this roof, all good fortune and a bright sun in days to come." As she spoke, 
slowly her forefinger traced signs of guard and good fortune. She allowed her 
mind to open to them, and the air began to glow. Jerrany would have leaped for 
her, but his lady seized him hard.
"No, look to them. Here is no ill-wishing."
The signs brightened into the warm blue-green of Light as the girl stepped back. 
She grinned cheekily up.
"Now that we all know where we are, would you prefer to eat or look at furs 
first?"
For a startled moment the two gazed at her. Then Mayrin's grin flashed into a 
startlingly close copy of Eleeri's smile.
"Come, eat and be very welcome. There is always time to look at luxuries later." 
She slipped around the table and walked to the girl. "Sit here." She turned. 
"Don't all stand there gaping; bring our guest food. Or do you plan to starve a 
woman of the power?"
Servants sprang into action guiltily. Mayrin turned back. She eyed Eleeri's 
pendant with interest. "You wear no jewel. Is this what you have instead?"
She had spoken without thinking, and now her hand went up to cover her mouth, 
just as her Lord looked horrified.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I know that was rude and I have no right to ask such 
a thing. I—it's so beautiful I just asked."
A soft chuckle. "Why not?" There was no need to speak of the pendant's power. 
"It was a gift from a friend." A thought came then. "Are either of you kin to 
one Cynan of the House of Bear's-Kin?"
It was Jerrany who answered. "Cynan? I am not sure I know that name, but my 
mother was of the house. All that was swept away in the Homing. Her kin departed 
the land safely, but when they would have returned, it was too late." Eleeri 
looked a question. "The turning came then. Soon after, my mother and her lord 
chose to take horse for Escore, called by geas."
"Would she have known Cynan?"
"I do not know. It is possible, with the house on both sides of the border, 
there was some coming and going before Karsten ran mad. You do know there were 
two houses of that name?" At Eleeri's headshake he nodded, continuing then. "It 
was thus. The house was founded by a landless man of good blood. It was on the 
border where land was easier come by, since Karsten was empty and the land was 
wild. Many generations later, another son of the house returned to Estcarp to 
build there. His keep was on the other side of the border, but close by as the 
hawk flies."
He paused to savor the roast set before him. Eleeri and Mayrin smiled at each 
other as he talked.
"The house in Estcarp prospered also, and for many years there was much travel 
and trade between the two. My mother was of the Estcarp house. Of later years, 
the trade had lessened, but she had said when danger came, her house stood by 
kin, as was right. I think that those of the Karsten house were given shelter, 
but later they moved on. I know little more. My mother herself was wed shortly 
before the Horning and dwelt not within the keep." He finished, reaching 
hungrily for the trenchers of bread.
"I thank you for that. Do you write to your mother?"
"Letters go with trade goods to other places. A letter may come to her hand in 
time."
"Perhaps then you could say that Cynan of her house in Karsten wished this to be 
known to his kin." She straightened, allowing her voice to take on an impersonal 
note. "I, Cynan of the House of Bear's-Kin, returned to my keep to die within 
those walls. The land is yet in turmoil, so I have survived. But age comes upon 
me, I will lie in the land that once was ours. Let my kin remember there are two 
houses, that one day they may return. This message I send by the mouth of one I 
name kin-friend, sword-sister. Aid to her at need is laid upon our house, even 
as she aided me when I stood alone. This I, Cynan of the House of the Bear's 
Kin, do swear."
She reached for her pack then, producing the two plump packages. Formally she 
laid them upon the table, undoing the twisted grass string which bound them. In 
turn she held each up so that the lord and lady might see.
"To the lord and lady of the keep, I offer guest-gifts. May they be received 
from one who would be friend to you and your kin."
Jerrany rose to bow. "They are received as guest-gifts," he said slowly. 
"Friends in this land are always good to have, but those who move too swiftly 
may stumble. Yet we, too, would hope to have gained a new friend."
Eleeri nodded, seeing that he did not move to take up the gifts. She laced the 
pack shut again and sat to continue the next course offered. As she ate quietly, 
she mused on the power she had displayed to them. It was growing, it seemed. 
When she had arrived in Karsten, she had been no more than a child with the 
horse-gift. But her time in Karsten seemed to have changed her. Meeting the lady 
in the place of the Old Ones. The gift of the warding stones. Cynan's teaching. 
All seemed to have brought growth to her gift.
Once she had crossed into Escore, found her Keplian friends and her hold, things 
had changed further. The hold had closed about her in warmth. It was both 
unfamiliar and oddly familiar. As if after long wandering she had returned home. 
She eyed Mayrin as the woman ate. She, too, seemed to have some of the gift.
Mayrin looked up, to return the glance and smile a little. Then she reached for 
the gift. She laid it out, biting back unseemly groans of delight. A vest of 
rasti fur, and another for Jerrany. Her eyes glowed at the soft feel of the fur 
as she stroked it.
Jerrany reached for his own guest-gift. He had seen the quality at first glance 
and had deliberately taken time so as not to show his own interest. Eleeri 
watched as he took it up.
But Jerrany was giving nothing away. He passed her more food, pressing wine on 
her as well. She drank sparingly of that; water was her usual drink.
The conversation moved on to hunting and Eleeri realized with some amusement 
that the lord was now trying delicately to discover her home territory. His 
questions circled cleverly. At one time querying if certain bushes would grow in 
her area, at another if hill hens were within her borders. She answered 
truthfully. It was unlikely he would find her. The canyon was high in the 
mountains where few trails ran. Nor was the entrance easy to find, even for one 
who followed the Light.
Once the meal was concluded, she reached for her pack, unlacing the drawstrings 
with swift fingers. Then she began to unfold furs, some the dazzling white of 
the mountain leapers, others the silver-tipped rich brown of river rasti in 
winter. She had had to work very carefully to get those last. Rasti hunted in 
packs and would attack anything that was food if they hungered. They were swift, 
cunning, and deadly, appetites on four legs, feared by even the most skillful 
hunters. They could be killed. But those who fell dead were at once eaten by 
their kin. To have cured undamaged furs proclaimed her far and wide as a hunter 
of unmatched skill.
Jerrany drew in his breath. There was now no doubt, this one was of the Light, 
but what a hunter, also. He must indeed write to his dam and kin. He would send 
word also to the Green Valley and she who dwelled there. His lady caught his 
eyes, speaking wordlessly with tiny movements, her eyes alight with hope. He 
nodded slightly, hand twitching in a signal that she should move slowly. For 
several hours they bargained over the finest furs either had ever seen. The girl 
had come from the mountains somewhere, that was certain. Leaper furs of this 
whiteness could only have come from beasts living in snow more than half a year.
He allowed the rasti furs to slide through his hands. But this was the puzzle. 
These were lowland animals; this type tended to live by rivers on flat land.
Eleeri retired to the offered room for the night while he still sat pondering. 
She had to be of the Light. She'd passed forged iron, runes of ward and guard; 
she'd then called Light in runes herself. But the pendant his lady had admired 
was that of a Keplian. Those accursed followers of evil had killed many over the 
years. Would it be wise to broach to the girl the matter of the missing one?
He shrugged, departing for his own bed. There he found Mayrin of no mind to let 
slip an opportunity.
"Where do you then think her to live?" he was queried when he confessed his 
bewilderment.
"I know not. She brings furs from mountain and plains. Aldred says she came from 
the east along the lakeside. Those rasti furs are of a kind that makes a home by 
rivers; maybe she followed the stream that flows into our lake. But I cannot be 
sure. None of us have traveled far to the east. Those are the lands of the Gray 
Ones and the Keplians."
"She is not evil," his lady was swift to point out.
"That is seen, but how she lives in such a place, I do not know."
His lady shrugged. To her it mattered not where the girl lived, as long as she 
was sure of her innocence. That she was, after the demonstration in the hall. 
She was sure of another thing, also. Eleeri had a sense of humor. She had marked 
the wicked twinkle as their visitor called power to her runes. It had been as if 
she were saying, There, you misjudged me. Mayrin had felt a sudden feeling of 
liking flow between them as eyes met. She wanted to know more of Eleeri as a 
friend.
She lay curled in her warm bed, mind drifting into sleep. But even as she 
relaxed, her heart wept, remembering.
She loved Jerrany. He'd been her idol from the time she was old enough to admire 
his youthful courage. He, in turn, had been kind to the younger girl who 
followed him. He had told her of his ambitions, to raise up a house again. His 
father had died in Estcarp's wars, and his mother fled to Escore with her new 
lord, a man Jerrany disliked. He would carve out new lands for himself, not be 
beholden to another.
That was as well, Mayrin had thought silently. Her hero's stepfather liked the 
boy no more than the boy liked him. Jerrany's mother had produced other children 
to her new lord. It would be they who inherited his holding, close to Mayrin's 
own in a dangerous land.
She herself had been promised to another, a man she feared. But her own father 
was adamant.
"What if you do not like him, silly chit? You know nothing of him but his looks 
from afar. You will wed him and unite our houses."
But Escore, too, warred, and the man died—to her very great and secret relief. 
Jerrany announced soon after that he planned to seek a new home. She had been 
heartbroken: she would never see him again. He was brother, friend, protector, 
and he was deserting her.
In secret she had learned swordplay from Jerrany. Now she bent her mind to 
gathering other abilities: knowledge of poison, the making of arrows, the 
setting of guard runes. Jerrany had come and gone, bidding her a gentle 
farewell. Her father had begun to cast about for another lord for her when 
Jerrany returned, jubilant.
"I've found our home. It's all a ruin now, but most of the walls are still 
there. We can build it up again, Mayrin."
"What have I to do with it?" she had asked bitterly.
She had met astonished eyes. "Why, it's our home," he had said simply. "Don't 
you want to be with me?"
Her heart had leaped up. Without caring for her dignity, she had flung herself 
at him, laughing and weeping at the same time. "Of course I do. You know I do. I 
thought you didn't want me."
He had taken her by the shoulders, setting her back from him so that their eyes 
met. "I suppose I always thought you knew. I love you, Mayrin. Why else would I 
have been seeking land and a home for us? Now I have a place and we can be wed."
It hadn't been that easy. Her father had first forbidden her to see the boy, as 
he had termed Jerrany. Finding that difficult to enforce, he had spoken to 
Jerrany himself, only to find a fighter who met him as an equal.
"I love Mayrin; Mayrin loves me. You may bring her to the altar with another. 
You cannot force her to speak vows, nor would such an attempt be approved in 
this place."
Her father had been furious, so much so that he had tried to goad her brother 
into an attack on Jerrany. But Romar had refused. Jerrany had been his friend 
since they came to the Valley of the Green Silences. He was almost the same age 
and together they had trained, fought, become as brothers in blood. Mayrin had 
thought at this point her father would suffer a seizure.
"Defied by one whelp!" he had roared. "Then by the other. By all the gods, you 
may go your own way, then. But expect nothing from me. Neither bride gifts, nor 
aid, nor anything I have. Go your way alone, both of you!"
They had done so, with Mayrin set in the care of Duhaun herself as her brother 
and beloved gathered what they must have. Others had chosen to join them, the 
lure of new lands being great. Some from Estcarp came still to Escore, and three 
families of those who joined them. Here and there single men added themselves to 
the group, bringing what they had in the way of goods and gear. More had 
followed later.
Romar—she remembered his gaiety. His laughter. He had been a rover, a wanderer 
across this strange and ancient land. It had called to his heart so that for 
months at a time he had vanished into its vastnesses. It was as if he sought 
without knowing, as if he hungered without being satisfied. He looked at none of 
the girls who would have been glad for his notice. Her father had raged to no 
avail. Those who led here valued the boy's skills, his reports of a land where 
evil was slowly being driven back.
Mayrin had loved her brother. It had delighted her heart when he chose to 
accompany them. But now he was lost, gone into that unknown from whence she 
feared he would never return.
Now from out of that same unknown a woman came. Nothing was impossible; perhaps 
Eleeri had seen or heard something. Maybe she could seek out some clue to Romar? 
Mayrin resolved to be careful, to move slowly, as her lord had said. But she 
would know all that her visitor knew. She would!
In sleep her mouth still held tight to that resolution. Romar was her brother 
beloved; no unknown land should reive him from her. She would befriend this 
traveler, leech from her any secrets she knew, use her if she must, anything to 
bring her brother home again.
The morning dawned bright and fair. Eleeri would have ridden homeward then, her 
trading complete, but that Mayrin pled with her to stay awhile. For the sorrow 
in the lady's eyes, Eleeri stayed. They talked and laughed together as lonely 
women will, finding in each other a friend unlooked for.
A day passed swiftly, and another. Glad to see his beloved so happy, Jerrany 
also pressed the visitor to remain. In all, Eleeri was at the keep for seven 
days before her need to return grew great. That last day Mayrin took her aside.
Her head hung in shame as she talked, but the younger girl smiled. "Don't look 
like that, Mayrin. I guessed there was a favor you needed. Whatever it is, I can 
promise to try if it not be against honor."
"It is not, I promise it is not." Mayrin ran lightly from the room to return 
with a small package. It was wrapped in a piece of fine cloth which she 
unwrapped gently.
"I've talked about Romar, my brother. He went from us into the lands to the east 
many months ago now. Nor has he returned. I fear for him." She stared sadly at 
the palm-sized painting she now displayed to Eleeri. "This was done before we 
left the Valley of the Green Silences. I have one of myself and my lord also. 
But this is dearer by far. It may be all that is left to me of Romar."
"The favor?"
"Wherever you go, wherever your home is, let you seek, let your eyes be ever 
busy searching, looking for one like this. I would give all I have to bring him 
safely home." Her eyes were desperate.
The woman she addressed nodded slowly. "I do indeed wander, as did your brother, 
sometimes to the east. I will watch for him, free him if he be trapped, bury him 
if I find his body, bring news to you if I have any. But only as I can. I, too, 
have those who rely on me. I cannot risk them for one unknown who may already be 
dead. But I sorrow for your grief. I will do what I can."
Mayrin flung her arms about the slender body. "That is all I ask. Come back. 
With news or without it, a welcome holds for you ever."
Eleeri turned away, but Mayrin's fingers seized her arm. Eleeri turned, brows 
raised questioningly. A small object was pressed into her hand.
"Here; you did not look truly. Look now, study the face. He may have changed a 
little if he has been treated ill by those of the Dark. Please, remember him, 
find him for me."
Eleeri looked down. At her previous glance the boy had seemed nothing special. 
Now she looked closer as her new friend begged. She guessed that Romar would 
have been sixteen when the limning was done. The same age as— She stared 
suddenly. No wonder she had no more than glanced. Why should she look closer? 
The image of this boy stood staring imploringly at her.
"You know he's alive somewhere, don't you?" Eleeri said. "You're twins."
"That is so," Mayrin said softly. "I feel him to be in great danger, but death 
has not touched him as yet. You are also right that we are twins. It is rare, 
very rare for those of the Old Race. Few there have been with any talent in our 
line, but Romar has an affinity with beasts. Horses in particular." Her fingers 
twined and twisted frantically, although her voice remained calm and quiet. "But 
we have the gift of twins. I would know if he were dead; therefore he is not. 
Find him for me, Eleeri."
For a long moment, Eleeri studied the portrait. Mayrin had changed, but not 
greatly since this was done. The boy here was young, untried. But there was 
strength in that face, pride without vice, power without the need to use it 
unjustly. The eyes were lonely, inward-looking. To an outsider he would have 
appeared as no great one to risk aught for. His face was thin, with fine bones 
and a determined chin. Eyes of a shade more green than gray, if the painter had 
not lied—but no. Mayrin's eyes, too, were that hue. The mouth was clean-cut, 
modeled with almost a delicacy, but there was no weakness in the set of those 
lips. It was the mouth of one who acted as well as dreamed.
It drew her in a way she had never felt before. She was no child to be attracted 
by any pretty face. She would have shrugged off the feeling, but even that would 
have been to acknowledge it. Mayrin had been kind; her lord had traded fairly. 
They asked only that she be alert for traces of this one. It was not asked that 
she storm any strongholds of the Dark. She glanced down again. Hmm, a trick of 
the light… for a moment the painted eyes had seemed to implore, to focus on her. 
Her face came up, eyes measured Mayrin. Witchery? No, she did not think so. Just 
a trick of the light.
This likeness must have been made ten years ago or more. From what her friend 
had said during the past week, Eleeri could piece some things together. Romar 
must be about twenty-seven now, Jerrany some three years older. She bit back a 
sound of contempt. Mayrin's father must have been an idiot. Fancy expecting a 
boy of sixteen to confront one who was older, more experienced, and his best 
friend as well. Twenty-seven—about six years older than Eleeri was now. She 
brushed that idea aside. His age was unimportant. Let him be a child or a 
grandfather, she had promised to watch for signs of him. That she would do, but 
no more than that.
She rode midmorning, with Mayrin and Jerrany at the bridge to wish her a good 
journeying. The women hugged a final time and there was a genuine friendship in 
that.
The keep's lady wore her guest-gift proudly, the vest of rasti fur glistening in 
the sun. Now and again her fingers strayed to the pockets lining the inside. How 
clever, how cunning. She would have these made for every gown now that she had 
been given the trick of them. Jerrany, too, would find them useful, in his 
jerkins. Romar should, too—she felt a bitter pain. Romar might never know 
anything she would wish to tell him. She watched until horse and rider vanished 
around the lake edge.
"Find him, please find him, bring him back to me," she whispered into the air.
Eleeri rode around the lake. With all her trade pelts gone, she could ride 
again, and it pleased her. The walk to the keep had been long and tiring. In a 
day or two she would be back at the canyon with Tharna, Hylan, and the others. 
But as the pony trotted on, a young face intruded. Well, she would keep an eye 
open for the boy—man now. The gray-green eyes seemed to hang in her mind, 
hopeful, waiting. With a determined effort, she banished them. Winter was 
coming. She had things to do other than looking for some fool who'd probably 
only gotten himself lost.
She slept that night in wards, but in her dreams she saw him. After that he was 
gone. Eleeri nodded. Her mind was her own; it would banish what it was bid. If 
imploring eyes watched her, after that they were ignored. So she told herself, 
and who is to say she lied?

9
But she did keep her promise. She raided less often into Keplian lands, but when 
she did, her eyes were always alert for the boy who looked like Mayrin. The Gray 
Ones watched her, but after several disastrous meetings, they tended to look the 
other way—unless they were in full pack as they were one bright spring morning 
after winter was banished from even the mountains about Eleeri's canyon. They 
gave chase, but the tough fit pony carrying a light weight and the powerful 
Keplian mare stayed easily beyond their reach.
Eleeri reined in many miles later, laughing. "That gave them a nice run. Didn't 
they look disappointed?"
The mare gave her whinnying laugh, then sobered. *Kin-sister, have you not 
noticed, this spring they have returned to chasing us again. Before the winter, 
they had looked aside if we were in view. Now they hunt again.*
"That was full pack," the girl objected.
*They knew themselves unable to catch us, but they still gave chase. Something 
builds; the Gray Ones do not hunt where the prey is worthless.*
Eleeri grinned. "I wouldn't say we were worthless, precisely."
*Not if they could take us, no. But they have tried often in the past, failed, 
and ceased to try. So why do they try again now?*
"I see what you mean." She sat her pony, looking thoughtful. It was strange. For 
most of the previous year the wolfmen had ignored them both. Tharna could be 
right. Something was building. But what—and why? Her mind made an intuitive 
leap. Romar! According to Mayrin, he'd ridden off in spring last year. They'd 
expected him back by late summer. Could the Gray Ones have taken him, found a 
use for him? But what sort of use, apart from food? Or torture? her mind added 
grimly. The pony had ceased to nibble at the grass. Now he lifted his head 
alertly. Eleeri gathered in the reins.
"I suspect trouble comes. Best we leave."
The mare nodded, then stiffened as the gust of changing wind came to her nose. 
Her eyes met Eleeri's in deepening surprise. The pack still followed. Eleeri led 
them to the river. Let the evil ones stick their noses into all that running 
water. It might cool their brains. The river ran higher than expected, so that 
the girl was becoming worried. It would be dangerous to cross, it must have 
rained higher in the mountains last night.
Moving with decision, she swung the hunt upriver, heading now for the stream 
that fed the lake. That, too, was high, and the crossing was difficult. They 
paused to rest on the other side as the pack snapped and snarled in frustration.
"Better keep going, kin-sister. I have a nasty feeling that if we stay in plain 
sight, it may impel that lot to do something stupid."
The mare shrugged. *If they try to cross, they die.*
"And if it dawns on them this stream has an end?"
Tharna looked startled. It would be well out of the territory, but there was 
actually nothing to prevent the pack from circling the lake to continue the 
hunt.
*It is far—many days, even for them.*
"True, but if they are driven, they might not care about that. There is food to 
be hunted and when they round the lake there are also humans."
The mare nodded silently. Humans unaware of approaching danger. As they talked, 
they had moved away from the stream, hooves clicked dully on the rocky trail. 
They traveled several hours in silence, each recalling the events of the day. 
There was little doubt that something stirred in the land once more. Tharna was 
apprehensive; her kin-sister would insist on poking her nose into it, whatever 
it was. She would that Eleeri was better armed. Not with her bow only, but with 
the gift and powers. They walked slowly, so she had time to decide. A flick of 
her mind alerted the girl that there was something the mare wished her to 
consider.
Eleeri listened. The golden mist at the canyon end had almost ceased to interest 
her. It was forbidden to enter; nothing answered calls from without. Her pendant 
warned her away from it and even her own common sense advised caution there. 
There had been so many other adventures and paths to follow, the mist had been 
relegated to the back of her mind. Now she protested.
"We are still refused entry."
*How long is it since you tried?*
That was a point. Eleeri thought back. Months, many months. It must have 
been—she counted on her fingers— why, it had been early last summer. Well, she 
could try again. It would do no harm as long as she was polite. At least she 
hoped it wouldn't.
She did try, to receive the clear impression of a barred door. Whatever was 
within the mist wasn't welcoming her in today. She walked away slowly. Would it 
ever allow her in? Was there something she was supposed to be doing to pay for 
the privilege? She chuckled. She didn't want to get in that much anyhow; it was 
just curiosity.
Farther down the canyon, Tharna waited. She noted the return and the 
deliberately casual air. It seemed the gate was still barred to them and her 
kin-sister wasn't of a mind to try again in a hurry. Tharna said nothing but 
returned to grazing.
Eleeri noticed both the attention, then the studied disinterest. It pricked her 
so that she turned on her heel and returned to the mist. There she stood 
formulating what she would say. The Gray Ones' unusual behavior, the sense that 
something was wrong in the lower lands. The feeling of an approaching storm, not 
of wind and sky but of power and danger. She fixed the feelings in her mind, 
then did what she felt was the equivalent of knocking on the mist's door.
In a burst she sent her message. Attention sharpened on her. She felt a sudden 
exhilaration. That had interested it.
Query?
She sent again her surprise at the way the wolfmen had followed them so 
tenaciously. This time she included all events, mental pictures of the terrain. 
The way they had been hounded right to the very edge of running water. The way 
she and Tharna had felt they should move away even that after crossing—as if the 
desperation of the pack to reach them was communicated. The sudden fear that the 
Gray Ones might decide to circle the lake, move into territory they did not 
know. Endanger the humans there who were friends.
She had the impression then of having her mind winnowed. The rifler was 
interested in the Keplian mare. They were friends? Yes, they were, and was there 
anything wrong with that? was Eleeri's sharp response.
In return she received a burst of amusement. On the contrary. The mist or 
whatever dwelt within was pleased. Eleeri blinked, sending her own query in 
turn: Why? Now there was a sense of duality touching her, not one thing 
communicating, but two. Male and female. She received the impression they were 
human in some way, more than human in others. Adepts, then? she queried. In 
reply the touch vanished. The image of the barred door returned and she found 
herself backing slowly away again as the mist writhed and coiled.
She retired hastily to share the experience with Tharna. They stared at each 
other when she had finished. Wordlessly the mare began to graze again. She liked 
to consider things, to chew over thoughts as she did grass. Eleeri was not so 
eager to think about all this. In several ways she wasn't even sure she had 
liked the way her mind had been invaded. She had suffered no injury, but they 
could at least have asked, she thought resentfully. She didn't even belong in 
this world.
That brought her up short in her mind. Didn't she? This world had allowed her to 
be herself; it had given her a home, a roof and friends. Here she rode as a 
warrior as she could never have done in the world she had escaped.
It had been an escape. She had run here. Entered willingly along the road of the 
gone-before ones. For a single moment she felt a terrible longing for Far 
Traveler and their home. But her great-grandfather was gone, their small home no 
longer hers. Even if she could go back, nothing would ever be the same. Tharna 
and Hylan could not travel with her; in her world they would be treated ill. She 
fingered her knife. She could not ride as a warrior there. That thought alone 
could sway her powerfully.
Life was hard in this land she had chosen. She must fight to survive, to eat. 
For food and trade she must hunt, and all she owned was from the work of her own 
hands. She drew in a deep breath of the spring-scented air. Then she marched 
into her keep. It was hers, hers by right of finding, by use. The decision had 
been made. For all this time in many ways she had been living as if her sojourn 
here were only temporary. Now she knew in a burst of wild gladness it was her 
home, her keep, her land. No one was going to take anything away from her 
without having a fight on their hands. And that, she added with mental ferocity, 
included any Gray Ones or their masters.
She swept inside to begin turning out winter-musty furs. Bedding she hauled to 
the stream and washed in the stone basins designed for that purpose. She looked 
properly at the basins for the first time. Clever: whomever had dwelt here 
hadn't intended to live without amenities. She trotted back inside to add her 
own clothing to the pile.
She left the grass spread with her work, as she returned to her keep. For too 
long she had used only the great hall. On very cold or wet nights many of the 
Keplians would join her there. She had never bothered to search the upper rooms.
She snorted. That had been the faint remembrances of Far Traveler's tales. Of 
how it was not well to accept a roof where the owners had died. She didn't know 
that the owners had died here. It could have been far away. They could even be 
those who lived behind the mist, and hence not dead at all. She tramped up the 
narrow stone stairs.
You could tell this place had been built by those expecting a war. The stairs 
had no rail and twisted in a way that allowed a defender free sword-arm.
Upstairs, she counted as she moved down the narrow passage. It must run the 
length of the keep, above the center of the downstairs hall.
No wooden furniture remained, if any there had been, but stone tables furnished 
several of the rooms. Hearths were placed to warm bedrooms. Two large alcoves 
shelved in stone may once have been linen closets. She wandered through the 
rooms, tapping idly at the walls. Cynan had showed her the small hiding place 
for jewelry in his own hold. Had they had one here? she wondered. She drifted 
down to the end of the passage and found, to her surprise, that it continued in 
a flight of stairs leading downward again. She orientated herself. Strange. 
She'd seen no second set upward from the lower floor.
She trod down, eyes and ears alert, hand on knife hilt. Down, down. By now she 
had to be below ground. She glanced up and suddenly understood. Once there was 
probably extra planking level with the stone floor, hiding the continuation of 
the staircase, probably with a hidden trapdoor there. The light had faded so 
that she stumbled, retreating in search of something she could use to light her 
way. Feet padded swiftly back up the stairs—there, that would do. She'd used 
branches to sweep upstairs the previous summer. Now dry, they would burn to 
light her way. She glanced at the armload. Would it be enough?
Surely she could manage. She hurried back down to where she could no longer see, 
then lit a branch. As it burned, the amount of light was small, but it did allow 
her to see the stairs. She padded on down until a door appeared before her. 
Stone, but so well crafted it could be opened by a firm push. She peered around 
the edge in wonderment. A vast expanse of paved floor met her gaze.
There seemed to be nothing but that floor stretching into darkness on the far 
side. Making a mental note that she must make better torches for this, she 
advanced. Stone-paved floor, stone block walls, and no other entrance. That 
didn't make sense. Why would they have this down here with no escape? Perhaps it 
had been only storerooms?
She padded around the perimeter, holding up her branch. It was beginning to die; 
she lit the second and continued to walk. She guessed this area was almost as 
large as the keep above. Something caught her eye, a rusted remnant of metal on 
the floor. She stooped to find she was holding a dagger. From the studs that 
surrounded it, the steel had once been within a leather sheath. She faced the 
stone wall, thinking. Was this a weapon dropped in flight, or had it a deeper 
significance?
Cynan had taught her several words in common usage as commands. This keep had 
been built as a fortress, but those who had lived here might not have used more 
than simple locks.
She faced the wall, lifting her voice in clear command. "Ashlin!" Eleeri said. 
There was a soft creaking, a grinding, as the wall opened.
Behind it, protected from time's hunger, hung weapons. Here and there were gaps 
as if a portion of the collection had been snatched up in haste. The woman 
studied the array carefully. Bows, quivers filled with arrows, swords, daggers, 
honing stones, everything one could want to defend this place. She smiled. Would 
her word continue to work? She walked to the edge of the open section, then took 
two more paces sideways.
"Ashlin!" There was no response. She paced sideways again. Still no response. 
But on her third try the wall again quivered into life.
This time it was mail. Mail in a wonderful metal that held the sheen of oil on 
water. She lifted out a piece and admired the work. The mail—no, she remembered 
now, when it was rings like this Mayrin had said it was called chain. The chain 
was wrought by a master, surely. It hung heavy but limp as velvet in her hands. 
There was a smaller shirt there which she found her hands drawn to.
It fitted perfectly, as if some long-ago smith had made it for her measure. Once 
on, it didn't feel so heavy, either. She lit the last branch—now she had light 
enough to leave, and that was it. Facing the open sections, she spoke the word 
of closing and watched as they snapped shut again. She'd be back. There was more 
here to be discovered. She hurried up the stairs as her branch burned low. Was 
it possible, her curiosity suggested, that the commands would work in some of 
the bedrooms as well? Were there other secrets she might have overlooked?
She soon found there were. Mayrin had taught her other commands, and these 
opened what must have once been clothes closets in several of the rooms. She 
gasped over the wealth of silks and velvets exposed to her. From the sizes and 
other indications, she guessed there had been a lord and lady of the keep. There 
looked also to have been babies.
For the remainder of that day, she trotted from wall to wall all over the keep 
trying her commands. Even the kitchen yielded up cupboards of pots, pans, 
crockery, and other minor items. Eleeri retired to bed, her head whirling with 
delight. From being a beggar in someone else's keep, she now felt true ownership 
for the first time. It was as if the keep itself had let her in.
Early the next morning she was back down the stairs again with torches. She 
circled the walls, trying each of the words she knew in turn. One opened a small 
door to stables she had not known were there. By the afternoon, she was 
exhausted with her work. She retired to the great hall with a charcoal stick and 
a large piece of white bark. There she attempted to make a plan of the keep. As 
she drew, she marveled. Why had it taken her so long to explore? It was as if 
she had felt herself an invader. That by remaining in the hall alone she would 
not anger those who had once owned this place.
In some ways she understood her own actions. It had been the canyon with its 
runes and strange mist. She had felt that to trespass too greatly would be to 
see them all driven forth. But now that they had lived here for a time, she felt 
a gradual welcome begin to close about her. As if she was known now, recognized 
and accepted. The keep was hers: she would accept its gifts, its shelter, the 
comfort offered by the strong walls and runes at the gates.
For the next weeks she was busy going over her newfound keepdom. She began 
sleeping upstairs in the bedroom that must have belonged to lord and lady. The 
kitchen shone with burnished pots and pans hung on the walls. From cupboards now 
open to her searching eyes, she retrieved tapestries, hanging them with much 
labor and cursing. It puzzled her that the cupboards appeared to have protected 
their contents so well. It occurred to her to experiment with fresh meat placed 
inside the closet in a bedroom. The attempt explained much to her; the meat 
remained fresh for weeks. After some trial and error, she found that the more 
often the cupboard was open, the more swiftly the meat would decay. A spell? It 
had to be. Some magic to preserve from time whatever was placed within. Good. 
The cupboards she did not need would do well to keep her food against the summer 
heat.
Meanwhile, the Keplians had not been idle. Hylan had taken to quiet visits into 
the lands his dam had once known. From there he had returned with news gleaned 
from his kind. The last visit, Tharna had traveled beside him. Now she came in 
search of Eleeri.
* Kin-sister, there is news, nor do I like what I have heard.*
The woman stood up to stroke the soft nose. She waited. Tharna would speak in 
her own good time.
*In the center of our lands there rises an old shadow. Evil lairs once more in 
the Dark Tower. My people fear it, obey it, yet still do they fall to its 
hunger. It is possible it is the reason the Gray Ones hunt us far harder than 
ever before. More and more Keplian fall to them also.*
Eleeri had known of that. The Keplians had always been small in numbers, the 
fault of the treatment meted out to orphaned foals by the stallions who killed 
so casually and the mares who refused to aid the helpless. Now she listened to 
Tharna and Hylan as they told of foals and birth-weakened mares taken almost 
under the noses of herd stallions. Even of young bachelor males pulled down by 
many Gray Ones working together.
*They are run mad. They kill and kill until all our lands will be empty.* 
Hylan's breath hissed in. *They even attack the rasti. But they lose doubly in 
that. The rasti are not such as should be trifled with. Many died—on both 
sides.*
The woman smiled broadly. "It is well said that when evil ones fall out, good 
may profit. Let us hope they slaughter each other until none remain."
*Unlikely,* the stallion commented. *They say in our lands that that which 
dwells in the tower spoke to them harshly, saying that if they war again, he 
will punish both sides.*
Eleeri glanced up. "That won't get it far. Rasti care nothing for threats. If 
the Gray Ones attack them, they will fight."
Tharna nodded. *But the wolf ones do care. They fear that which is in the Dark 
Tower. They will not again attack without word. I fear that it may be your 
friends who are to be prey next. There was some talk of a gathering of the pack, 
that they might hunt out far toward the edges of their territory.*
Eleeri gazed out from under the trees where they were standing. Her mind was 
suddenly made up: she would ride to speak of this to those of the lake keep.
*That is well, kin-sister. But ride wary.*
That the woman was more than prepared to do. The sturdy dun was saddled and 
Keplians mind-sent affection as she rode past them. The runes flared at her 
passage. Impelled by an impulse, she leaned over as she passed, fingers tracing 
the main runes of guard. A word came into her mind then as if gifted to her. By 
now she had learned not to speak such aloud, but in her mind she stored it 
against need.
As she rode from her hold, she thought about the runes. From what she now knew 
of the land, the gift of power was common. Even those who had little were taught 
to use what they had. All homes, keeps, strongholds, were warded, the Valley of 
the Green Silences most strongly of all. It was an ability native to the people 
here.
Her mind turned to the Gray Ones. Unpleasant creatures that they were. They and 
the Keplians had been enemies from time out of mind. It seemed that the attempts 
to control them, perhaps to draw power from them, was driving them mad. The 
tower might demand they cease to fight; the dweller there would not wish his 
meager resources wasted casually in a war he did not approve, and one moreover 
which killed his own side only. But he wasn't having much luck there, Eleeri 
thought. That suited her. Friends profited when enemies fell out, Far Traveler 
had been fond of saying. If the Gray Ones continued to irritate the rasti, too, 
it would be useful.
She shivered. A rasti pack-ground was no place to be. They looked rather like 
weasels to her—weasels grown to three feet in length, with wonderful fur. And 
like weasels sometimes would in the depths of a hard winter, rasti hunted in 
packs.
They had no true intelligence, but they had an animal cunning all their own. 
Nor, if their territory was invaded, did they seem to care how many of their own 
kind died, so long as the intruders were expelled. The dead were food, their own 
dead or the invaders. She shivered, thrusting the thought from her mind.
She rode steadily downstream and along the lake edge. That night as she slept, 
she dreamed as she had not done in many months. A dark-haired man looked at her 
with a wistful hope. He had aged beyond the boy of the small painted picture. 
But she knew him… Romar, twin to Mayrin. His face twisted in his efforts to 
reach her, to speak, perhaps to warn.
Then strength visibly drained from him and his face went slack. She leaned 
forward; her eyes studied him. He was thin, pale of skin, as one who had been 
indoors too long. But resolution still showed in the firm set of jaw, the folded 
lips. In her sleep, slender fingers slid to her throat, there to twine about the 
Keplian pendant. She strained to see more clearly. Warmth rose from that which 
she clasped.
Her dream sight cleared a little. Now beyond the man she could see a window, 
blue sky spread above, gray stone surrounding it. He sat held to a great carved 
chair by leather straps. Yet she sensed he was held by more than the bonds she 
saw. About him spread a circle. Runes flared red, smoked in black around the 
outer line. Eleeri shivered. There was no mistaking what she saw. Romar was 
captive to an evil that sought to use him. His eyes opened again, and in them 
there was a desperate appeal. The runes flared high, veiling him in a smoke that 
reeked even in her dreaming, of power and danger.
She pulled back. The scene began to fade, but as it did so, it shifted. Now she 
looked down as a bird might upon a tower below. Confirmation. That was indeed 
the Dark Tower, deep in Keplian lands. She rode on at daybreak, the dream 
repeating over and over in her mind. She feared the effect on Mayrin, did she 
speak of this. The woman would insist on an attack, but Eleeri felt that this 
would bring only death. They must be clever. Attack, yes, but as thieves in the 
night, not as warriors. The fighters of her people had once esteemed such battle 
cunning.
Her face flickered into a brief dangerous smile. She would keep her own counsel, 
but she would speak of the warnings her friends had brought from Keplian lands. 
That would be sufficient to place the keep on guard. As for Jerrany—there, too, 
she would not speak, she decided. He loved Mayrin dearly, too much to hide 
anything from her. Once she suspected, Mayrin would have the story out of him as 
a sea-dog shelled sea-snails.
Eleeri rode into the keep days later. From across the bridge, her friends came 
running, Mayrin laughing happily.
"Oh, it is so good to see you again. What has happened since last you came? Has 
the hunting been good? Are you tired?"
Jerrany seized the reins. "I'll take this fellow to be cared for. Go you with 
Mayrin before she bursts with her questions." He touched her lightly on one 
shoulder. "She speaks for us both, though. It is good to see you once more. I'll 
bring your pack to the hall." He strode away, leading the weary pony.
Mayrin had her friend by a sleeve. For the first time she realized that there 
was a hard material under her fingers. "Why, what is this?" She turned up the 
outer fabric. "Chain, you wear chain, and such craft! Where did it come from? 
Have you found another place to trade? What—"
Eleeri held up a hand laughing softly. "Let me answer one set of questions 
before you ask me more. As for the chain, it was found, not traded. I will tell 
you the story another time. The hunting has indeed been good, and yes, I am both 
tired and hungry. I have no news of Romar, but something that may bear upon you 
and the keep. Feed me and I will talk with you and Jerrany of it. This is in 
part why I have come."
Late into that night they talked. Jerrany did not take her words lightly.
"I will have all put in order. We do stand ready, but there are many small 
things which might yet be done to prepare for siege or attack." His face grew 
serious as he thought. "What have you brought to trade?"
"No luxuries this time," Eleeri assured him. "All good deerskins, sinews, and a 
gift for you, another for Mayrin." She reached for her pack. "Ask me not where 
these came from. They are for you, a gift of Light." She allowed the first 
bundle to unroll, revealing a matching chain shirt which would fit her friend. 
Mayrin gasped, touching it with wondering fingers. Another bundle unrolled to 
spread half a dozen swords across Jerrany's feet. They were unadorned but of 
superb workmanship. The keep lord picked one up, closed his hand about the hilt, 
and tried a pass or two. Then he spoke as one who offers a pledge.
"We will ask not whence these came. That they are of the Light is enough." He 
eyed his wife sternly when she would have spoken, and Mayrin's lips closed 
again. "They shall be used against evil, to protect that which is good."
He was more sober than was his custom the remainder of Eleeri's visit. When she 
departed, he watched as her pony rounded the lake edge, gradually disappearing 
from their sight. Then he strolled inside and called for a trusted armsman. To 
him he handed a letter.
"Take this to the lady who rules the Valley of the Green Silences, and none 
other." Hoofbeats died on soft turf as he stood at the keep door. Silently he 
went to his armory and from there to check provisions.
Little enough of the gift was there in his line. But now he felt the chill as of 
a coming storm. He had heard Eleeri's warnings with belief. He had mentioned it 
neither to his wife nor their visitor, but a hunter for the keep, ranging 
farther than usual, had seen Gray Ones. There was more the woman was not 
telling, he was sure. Perhaps she was not certain of the import herself. There 
would be no ill reason for her silence.
He stared out over the land that lay before him as he passed an arrow slot. It 
was fair: here he had planned to live, to see children grow. Would his bones lie 
here before his time instead? And what of Mayrin? She would not leave did he try 
to send her.
He looked out over the land to where blue-tinged mountains lifted far in the 
distance. Here they had come to build a house and a name. Here they would stay, 
for life or death. If the valley could send help, well enough; if not, then they 
would fight alone. Sunlight glinted far down the lakeside. No, not quite alone. 
Eleeri, too, rode to war.
He sighed. Always Romar had been his right arm. If only his friend were here now 
to stand beside him. His step was heavy as he left the window. Behind him there 
were none left to care about him, he thought. His mother had long since turned 
to her new lord and her growing brood. No, here were his only friends and loves. 
But he missed his sword-brother Romar with every fiber of his being.
He found he was standing in the middle of his bedroom studying the window once 
more. Through it he could see a long sweep of land toward the Valley of Green 
Silences. He sighed. This had been a lonely and dangerous place to choose to 
live. But hitherto it had been free from the Gray Ones. It was a sign the Dark 
was growing in strength, and a danger to all who rode for the Light.
Many years ago, a different Dark lord dwelling there had tried to seize the mind 
and heart of a witchmaid—the daughter of Simon Tregarth. She had been freed, and 
evil turned back on the man who would have used her. But the tower was a place 
which seemed to call to those small ones of the Dark who would be greater. A 
pity it was impossible to tear it down completely so that none might rise there 
in Dark power again. He had suggested that once; it was Duhaun herself who told 
him they could not. Some reason rooted in the things of power. He had not 
understood half the explanation, only enough to know she was right. It could not 
be done without endangering the land itself.
Far down the lakeside, sunlight flickered briefly from bridle mountings as 
Eleeri rounded the stream bend. She, too, was remembering—a harsh-planed face 
weary beyond words, and gray-green eyes that pleaded for aid.
Over the past few days her mind had been made up. There comes a time when a 
warrior must ride. Along with Romar's face, those of Mayrin, Jerrany, Tharna, 
and Hylan arose along with her other Keplian friends. Too many innocents. If she 
must don war paint, take oath to ride pukutsi, to ride slaying until all who 
faced her died, or she herself fell, then let it be so. She found she was 
humming softly as she rode. Far Traveler's death song. She smiled. She would be 
ready.

1O
Over the weeks, things settled to quiet again, but no one in keep or canyon was 
deceived. The feeling of danger grew as the Gray Ones were seen more often, 
always deeper into the lands that bordered their own. Eleeri took to sitting 
alone where they appeared. Bow in hand, she waited, patient pony grazing ready. 
From ambush her arrows slew in ones and twos until the wolfmen were nervous 
about the whole fringe of country toward the mountains.
Hylan did his share to make other Keplian males as wary. Twice he fought and 
defeated stallions given over to the Dark. He had seen their treatment of mares 
and foals. Now he knew why his gentle mother had fled to find refuge. All honor 
to her kin-sister who had protected them. As a foal he had looked up to the 
human; as a colt he had listened to her. Now as a stallion he spoke equally but 
accepted that she was the forethinker, the one who made plans, watched for 
consequences. Now he quite simply loved her, as did his dam.
To see a Dark-given Keplian stallion was to see power and majesty embodied in 
evil. To see Hylan beside one was to see the difference. He was larger still, 
his lines cleaner, and the power shone from him like an aura. In the canyon all 
bowed to his will, save his dam and her battle-sister. Even other Keplian males 
who met him on their land tended to back away. Unlike them, he had not struggled 
for food as a colt. He had not been fed by a dam thin from constant breeding, 
who would chase him from her as soon as possible to save his life. He had become 
magnificent but also intelligent. In him the potential of his kind was realized.
He glanced up from juicy grass as Eleeri passed. *Where do you go this time?*
"The river. The rasti are disputing with the Gray Ones again." She grinned 
evilly. "It's a saving on energy. If I shoot anyone at all, it's a kill, since 
the opposition finish them for me."
The huge beast was amused but worried. *When enemies fight, it is well for us, 
but walk warily. The rasti are stirred by all this intrusion on their territory. 
Even I would not wish to meet them where I could not flee.*
Eleeri could agree with that. A rasti pack was death on many feet. She had seen 
too many others fall to them when injured to take chances. She swung up and 
nodded. "I'll be careful. You keep an eye on things here and I should be back by 
sunhigh."
She was gone, cantering past the runes, which flared into life as she passed. 
Hylan watched, listening as the hoofbeats faded. Then he walked slowly toward 
the entrance. At his approach, too, the runes began to glimmer, a soft 
blue-green glow that strengthened, wanned. He eyed them wistfully. He was of the 
Light; all here in the canyon were so acknowledged by the marks of ward and 
guard. Yet still he wished for more. To any eye who knew him not, he was of the 
Dark, a Keplian, follower of the evil. If only there was something to 
distinguish him in his outer form. He sighed silently, returning to his grass.
His dam wandered over several hours later. *Where did Eleeri go?*
*To the river to tease rasti.* The question's import dawned. *She said she would 
be back by sunhigh. It is past that. You worry.* The last was a statement.
His dam nodded. Both knew her kin-sister's custom. If she said she would do 
something, it was done. If not, there was good reason. Both were suddenly afraid 
what that reason might be. They looked at each other and in accord trotted from 
the canyon and down the rocky trail toward the river. There was no sign of 
Eleeri there, but her pony's scent lay on the grass. They followed, taking it in 
turn to guard as the other laid nose to ground. Tharna found the first place and 
reared to a halt.
*Here there was trouble.*
They scented the pony's rush of fright. His hooves had scored the ground as he 
leaped away. But why? Soft noses leaned downward, scoured across nearby ground 
in an outward circling. Gray Ones! A whole pack, as many as two dozen, perhaps, 
and all males. This was no casual wandering; this had been a trail. They had 
been going somewhere with a purpose—and the trail led toward the lake.
That is, it had. Now it led into the higher foothills as Gray Ones turned to 
hunt woman and pony. Eleeri had run, but no swifter than necessary, saving her 
mount's strength.
The Keplians trotted along in pursuit. They would find her. The scent was fresh; 
the wolfmen must have her cornered somewhere.
Eleeri had left that morning with no intent beyond a few enemy deaths. She 
fought cautiously, using the land itself and pitting enemies against one 
another. She had been greatly successful over the past two months. She had 
hunted deeper into the lands toward the Dark Tower than her Keplian friends 
knew. She had seen nothing of Romar, but clues told her he was held there or 
nearby. She had discovered the tower was guarded; that alone told her that 
something was there to be protected. Time and time again over recent weeks she 
had approached, searching out what she could find of the defenses.
But this morning the sun had been warm, the sky blue. There was no thought of 
towers or prisoners. She would twist rasti tails, kill Gray Ones if she could.
She allowed the pony to pick his own way downhill toward the river. For a short 
time she watched the rasti, but none were careless today. Far across the stream 
she could see movement. She pushed the pony into a steady walk as she paced the 
distant shifting. Curious, she crossed to move closer. From the long grass 
almost at her feet, Gray Ones rose up. Mad with fear, her mount leaped and 
whirled, fled with all the speed in a sturdy body kept fit and well fed. The 
Gray Ones had moved to cut her off from the running water. In his panic her 
mount was carrying her farther away, bearing almost directly south so that her 
distance from the stream widened.
She fought him savagely, driving into his mind as she never did. But this was 
desperate; she must send him back to the running water. A swift glance had told 
her the deadly danger. A full pack of males loped behind them. She turned the 
sweating animal in a long slow curve and reached the river. Not good: on the 
other side, the rasti waited; behind, the Gray Ones closed in. The pony could 
outrun them, but his endurance was far less than theirs. They had only to keep 
between her and the water wherever she could safely cross. Split the pack and 
they had her. But mad with the hunt, they were not doing that—not yet. Her mind 
worked feverishly as she scanned possibilities.
Her hand went up to close around her pendant. Behind her the hunt faltered, and 
in that short time she had fled the closing ring. She thrust the unwilling pony 
into the water. The river was still high from spring thaw, and he protested. She 
understood that, but it was risk this or be eaten. She hurled pictures at him 
until he swam, terror at his heels. A greater terror rose before him as the 
rasti now gave chase, leaving the Gray Ones pack howling in frustrated rage on 
the bank behind them. The pony was tiring. Eleeri was a rider who knew how to 
lighten her own body as she rode. But he had come far and fast, with panic 
sapping his strength, leaching the stamina from his muscles.
He began to falter. The rasti were closing in on them now. Still he staggered 
on, his fear of them so strong he would run until he died on his hooves. Eleeri 
was turning and shooting, keeping her weight balanced. At each arrow another of 
her pursuers died. Those who were only wounded were swiftly taken by their 
companions. Each death slowed them so that the exhausted pony remained ahead, 
but for how long?
Eleeri counted her arrows and shivered. Without her weight, he could escape. 
With it, they would both die. If she'd been sure the followers would leave her 
if her mount went down—feast while she was free to run—she might have acted. She 
was deeply fond of the small horse who carried her so willingly, but she would 
sacrifice him to survive. A quick knife thrust would ensure he did not suffer.
But she was under no illusions. The rasti took only minutes to eat those she 
slew. But always there were a few who continued without sharing the feasts. They 
seemed to be taking turns to eat. Would they all halt to share a far greater 
bounty? Somehow she was sure they would not and she could not bear to kill 
without that certainty. The pony reeled on, his hooves only yards away from 
teeth that now gaped in bloodstained anticipation.
Eleeri had decided. When the pony could no longer stay ahead of the rasti, she 
would act. Kill him cleanly, then run for a place where she could make a stand. 
The body might draw off sufficient of them for her to give a good accounting in 
her final battle. Hail She would be able to stand before the gods as a warrior. 
Her lips curled back in a battle rictus. Let them come, the first to reach her 
should be the first to die. She hurled fear away, allowed rage to flood in. 
Adrenaline surged as she turned to shoot her last arrows.
From the hillside nearby came a sudden burst of sound. The Keplians had not 
followed far into the lands of their enemies. A wind shift had revealed enough 
for them to know that the hunt's direction had changed. It neared them swiftly 
and to their nostrils came the deaths of the rasti, the stink of blood, sweat, 
and terror. They could smell the growing weariness of Eleeri's mount. Below them 
the hunt came into view far down the mountainside. If they left the trail and 
followed another they knew, they might yet be in time.
The pursuit gained on Eleeri. As they moved, Tharna and Hylan dropped obliquely 
down the heights, gradually reaching the lower lands. So intent on the race were 
those involved, none looked up to see that others might be taken into account. 
Hylan and his dam reached a lower trail. It was smoother and they leaped into a 
gallop, huge bodies straining as they sped along. With their far greater speed, 
they reached a bend that turned in the direction of the hunt, and were still 
ahead of it. They had time to see and understand Eleeri's decision. In a few 
more minutes the pony would go down and she would turn to die.
In the woman's battle rage she was mind-sending. Her intent struck like a sword 
as the pursuit raced toward the Keplians. There was an instant of wordless 
communication between them, a decision made. It was against all they knew, but 
they cared nothing for that. A friend, a kin-sister would die unless they aided 
her. She would do this and more for them.
Hooves blazed a path down the last slope toward her. Minds screamed warning, 
pictures too fast for ordinary mind-speech. In one jump Tharna ranged beside the 
pony, Hylan on the other side* keeping the faltering animal straight as he ran.
He shouldered hard into the smaller beast. His mind flung an order. For a moment 
Eleeri herself faltered—was he sure? He was! Tharna had slowed, and her hooves 
now shot out viciously. Teeth snapped as the leading rasti went down. Their 
followers swirled in eddies as they ate and ran on again. But the Keplian raced 
faster than any rasti could run. The unburdened pony kept up, terror driving him 
beyond normal endurance.
Astride the Keplian stallion, Eleeri thrilled as they out-raced death. She 
crouched low over his withers, her weight balanced, feeling the great driving 
muscles under her. Her mind unconsciously reached out, seeking that oneness she 
had always found with a mount.
It came, in a flood of imagery and power. It was as if, reaching for water, she 
had drunk unwatered wine. The Keplian, too, was stunned by the union. For him it 
was Light, a blaze of it that lit corners of his mind, showed to him things for 
which he had no words. He felt it run through him, cleansing, healing. He 
remembered the terror of his birth, his bewildered pain and the hatred for those 
who hurt him, kept him from his dam. Now all that was healed. He understood 
their ignorant fears. Accepted that to them he had been of the Dark, and that 
the Dark was killed where it was found.
Beside him the weakening pony ran. He felt only pity for it. Before, he had 
scorned it as a pale copy of the glory that was Keplian. He was sorry for it 
now; it could never have this, the power and blaze of the Light blending two 
into one. He had feared to take Eleeri upon his back, feared that he would feel 
degraded, humiliated by a rider. He flung up his head, and the wild savage 
scream of a fighting stallion broke forth as a trumpet blast in triumph. He was 
not bound by a rider; he was freed. This was not emptiness, being used. It was a 
fullness, and in the Light he knew at last this was his creation.
They swerved uphill, following a faint trail in the direction of the canyon. 
Linking by mind-touch, Tharna felt a pale echo of the ecstasy of Light the rider 
had brought her son. She wondered sadly if this pleasure was felt by those who 
carried the Dark ones. If so, then she could better understand their acceptance. 
Denied by the Light, they had chosen to still be greater than they were alone. 
She followed her son, hooves dully sounding on the rocky path. Next time it 
would be she who carried her kin-sister, who shared the union of Light. But she 
would be generous. She felt a gentle amusement at that. Yes, she would allow her 
son to carry a rider—sometimes.
They reached the entrance to the canyon, the rasti long since left behind. Ahead 
the runes flamed brighter than she had ever seen before. Higher and higher until 
they were as torches that lit even the day. The blue-green changed slowly to the 
golden shade shot with silver that was the mist of the lower reaches. In it 
Eleeri could feel a gentle welcome, a tugging. She shrugged it off. Her pony had 
carried her, given all he had. What kind of rider would she be to leave him 
neglected, lathered, still saddled and bridled? She dropped from Hylan, turning 
to lay her head against his shoulder for a moment. Her hand reached out to pull 
the mare in so that they stood together.
"I know what you did."
Tharna stirred. *He did no more than I would have done. Next time I will carry 
you. I am your battle-sister; it is right.*
Eleeri felt the faint note of questioning. She hastened to send reassurance, 
then love. "Next time, kin-sister. You shall both bear me as you choose. Who 
would be borne by a horse when they could have the greater?"
This close she could feel both thinking. The idea drifted through the three as 
they leaned together, touching. Maybe they had been right. Perhaps it had been 
for this that the Great Ones had created Keplian. Eleeri pulled herself away 
briskly then. "The pony—I have to see to him," she explained to the soft 
complaint. Agreement came reluctantly. Her friends followed as she tended the 
small leg-weary animal. As she worked, they kept up an amused mind-send of 
comment. Finally the woman found the jests at the uncaring beast's expense a 
little too much. She turned to face them, the look in her eyes serious.
"Listen to me. I know he is not Keplian. I know he has no mind—speech, no great 
brains, and not the speed or beauty of either of you. But he does his best 
always. He would have died, running to save me out there today. I value his 
gentleness, his hard work, and his honesty. It does not mean I value my friends 
any the less." She fixed them with a stare and waited.
There was a long period of silence. The pony moved away to graze. Hylan's head 
came up.
*You are right. You value him for what he is, as you have always valued us. We 
are more, but—*
His dam picked up the words. *But one does not ignore the moss just because the 
grass is juicy. Both are edible and of value to one who hungers.*
The woman nodded. "Just so. Now, would you keep what we have done from the rest 
of our friends here?"
The Keplians consulted, noses touched. Tharna turned great eyes on her friend. 
*Let them see; let them know. What have we to be ashamed about? If I carry my 
kin-sister, it is no more than my wish and hers.* Her head lifted, neck arching 
proudly. *I ask the permission of no one; nor does my son, who is lord here to 
them. Let any see. We care not!*
Eleeri knew the step they took then as she vaulted lightly to the mare's sleek 
back. In full view of all those who lifted amazed heads, she clung as Tharna 
whipped into her floating gallop down the canyon's length. As they approached 
the mist, it seemed to shiver, blazing in golden shimmerings that beckoned. The 
mare shied away, circling to race back down the grass. Eleeri bent to her neck, 
crooning the ancient words that tied rider and mount. Tharna did not understand 
the speech of the Nemunuh, but the love behind the words, the caring and 
affection, those she understood fully.
Two minds reached out, touched, clung closer than ever before. This—this was 
destined. Together they gloried. Eleeri could feel Tharna's great heart pumping, 
joy in the speed of her powerful legs; she was the mare, the mare was her. 
Tharna, too, explored, it was as if her mind expanded. She had never understood 
the concept of far time. Now she did. She saw possible futures laid out before 
her. All the misty worlds that could be if—she leaned into them, peering, 
striving to discover. She realized the relative frailty of her companion. Eleeri 
must store food for winter, make herself coverings against the chill. She could 
not travel as swiftly as a Keplian. That was why she so valued the pony. Ah! 
That she now understood.
She saw their differences, and their likeness. Felt friendship course warm 
through both. Slowly as she halted, a picture formed which explained much to 
her. A human was frail in comparison to Keplians, Gray Ones, even the beasts. 
Therefore they must always think of tomorrow. They must make weapons, change the 
land they lived in to fit them so they could survive. Since they could not live 
naked and shelterless, they must find or make shelter, stitch clothing, store 
food for the places, the times when there was none close at hand.
Tharna felt strange, as if her mind were expanding, filling with new thoughts 
and ideas. Whole chains of logic built up and broke to reform anew in different 
patterns. She stood, head hanging, a long slow shivering rippling along her body 
as the bonding continued.
Hylan nosed her gently. *Is all well with you?*
She roused herself, pulled back a little. *It is well, my son. So many new 
things, so much to think over.*
Eleeri's laughter tickled both Keplian minds. "I, too, have learned a few things 
I never considered. Your mind is treasure, kin-sister."
The truth of that touched them all for a moment. But the emotion was becoming 
too strong. The woman disengaged herself, sliding from the broad back. She 
trotted away across the grass toward the ancient keep. She was starving, and 
thirsty. She would eat, drink, and sleep on the day's events. Behind her the 
Keplian knew what she would do. Without discussion, they moved away to drink and 
graze.
That night Eleeri slept the sleep of the dead. The day had been more than 
exhausting. The full sharing with Tharna had drained her until she could barely 
remain awake long enough to cool her throat, fill her empty belly. She fell then 
into a sleep so deep that she lay motionless, utterly limp within her bedding.
Into that sleep the man came walking. Tall and lean, eyes the gray-green hue, 
with black hair. The strong planes of his face denied the gentler molding of his 
mouth, matched the determined jut of chin. He was worn thin and the pallor of 
his skin betrayed a captivity, but pride still showed in the set of his head, in 
the litheness with which he yet moved.
About Eleeri's throat the Keplian pendant flared to life. In her sleep her 
fingers clutched at it. His mouth opened to speak and she strained to hear. 
Nothing. He was speaking, but she could hear no sound. It was as if a thick pane 
of glass stood between them, walling off all he wished to say. But she came from 
a people to whom the hands could speak as eloquently. Without her willing it, 
her fingers lifted and signed. For an instant, blue-green fire hung in the air, 
and his fingers rose to trace the rune. The fire deepened.
Sound came then, so faint she must strain to hear, each word seeming to drain 
him. Quickly she signed that he should use his hands instead, remembering the 
sign language Cynan had taught her. He nodded, beginning quickly so that she 
understood they might not have long before what they did was noticed. She knew 
his name, but hesitated to give her own. Names had power in this place of 
dreaming, perhaps even more so than in waking life.
He saw her thought and nodded. Eleeri grinned then. A name common enough to 
catch her attention, but no name of hers, that she would give.
She touched her breast. "Tsukup." It was the Nemunuh word for an experienced 
warrior. One who had learned wisdom where the arrow flew. It was a word that 
might draw her, but never too strongly, since it was only of her people, not of 
her. Then she stared at him until his eyes rose to meet hers. Silently she 
shaped his name with her lips. He started back, a question showing clear. She 
began to sign, her hands flowing in graceful dance. Ah, he was nodding again. He 
grasped that she had learned of him from his sister. Gradually, with much 
signing, they were able to exchange some information.
But all the time the sign hanging before them faded. Suddenly it was gone, and 
even as it faded, so did Romar. His last look was one of despair. He might have 
been asking himself what good they had done, save to hold out a hope that would 
die before the Dark.
Eleeri came blinking awake in her bedding. She sat up cross-legged to ponder. 
Now she knew more of Romar. His limning had showed a boy, but it had been no boy 
she fronted this night. A man, a warrior had faced her. The boy had shown a 
sensitivity, an imagination in the lines of his face. This one might yet have 
those, but if so, they were deep buried.
She counted over the points he had been able to tell. He was indeed captive in 
the Dark Tower, but who or what his captor, he could not say. He was used as 
a—the only word she could think of was power-line. Using Romar's strength, the 
captor fed his will to the Gray Ones and those Keplian males who served it. 
Recently the drain had become far greater; Romar was failing as his strength was 
pulled from him to serve evil purposes. If he was not soon freed, there would be 
no more than a brainless husk remaining. The desperation he felt had come across 
to her strongly, as had the despair.
She considered carefully. All her original reasoning still applied. More so now 
that she knew more. From hints she had received, she could guess that Mayrin, 
too, would be of use to the thing. Brother and sister could be linked to be far 
more than either was alone. But Eleeri could not be so used. She was not of 
Romar's kin or blood, not even of this land. She had some of what they called 
the power here. But somehow she felt it was different, that the tower could not 
turn it against her. She marched to the beat of a different war drum. Her songs 
were not the songs of this place, but of another. Of a people tied to a 
different land, to other powers.
Best she move carefully in this. Allow the enemy no crack in which to slip a 
lever. She would learn what she could. Tharna had been able to tell her somewhat 
of the powers. She would continue to visit the keep also. Mayrin had some of the 
minor gift. She could tell more and Eleeri would learn. Then, when Eleeri was 
ready, she would try to call Romar. Two heads were better than one. With greater 
knowledge and some preparation, there might be a way they could free him.

11
But she was not ready when Romar intruded on her dreams once more. His face was 
thinner, and his eyes weary. She watched as his fingers wove back and forth, 
paid attention to his words. Why did he waste strength so? Then she saw past the 
warrior who warned her of dangerous paths, to the fearful man within. He had 
been isolated, bereft of friends and family. He came to her out of simple 
loneliness, came to the only one he could reach to share with. In turn, her 
hands flashed in the sign language they were mutually building.
"The Gray Ones fear you," Romar signed.
"That we have ensured. But what of your master? Does he recognize our enmity?"
Romar nodded slowly. That which used him did indeed know something opposed it. 
As yet it was not greatly disturbed. It was confident in its own power and 
strength. The deaths of the Gray Ones were minor. There were always more.
Eleeri grinned. "One day there may not be. We'll see if we can't thin their 
numbers to where that thing does start to worry."
"Well enough, so long as you do not cause too much notice to be taken. Better an 
enemy secure in its own mind."
To that she nodded. Warrior sense. She would keep a balance, kill as many of the 
enemy as possible without alarming the leader too greatly. The talk turned to 
other things. Romar was eager to hear of his keep and kin.
"You have not told them?"
"It seemed unwise."
He bit his lip saying nothing.
"Be assured that if danger rises, I will ride to warn them. They have become my 
friends. It is just that—" she broke off, shrugging.
"That you fear Mayrin's reaction. You believe she will demand you storm the 
tower for me and at once, unprepared?"
"Yes," Eleeri admitted.
Romar's head bowed a little as he considered that. "You are probably right. Keep 
your counsel, then, but do not forsake me, I beg of you." The last words were 
forced out through stiff lips and the woman was touched, although she allowed 
nothing to show.
"I have no intention of that. I pause to gather knowledge and test the gifts I 
have. Already we can talk longer and more easily. This may be of aid when we 
come to free you. Gather your own strength and wait. The time of your freedom 
may not be far from you."
Before them the sign faded into nothingness, and Romar with it. Eleeri sat in 
her bedding, thinking hard.
She hoped he could last out. It would be folly to attack before they knew more 
about the tower. To be truthful, even then she was not sure she wished to risk 
all she had. Romar drew her strangely, but he was not kin for whom she must shed 
blood. She shook her head. Captivity wore hard on him, that was plain. She could 
still speak to him whenever he came. That much she could and would do. She lay 
back again and allowed herself to relax. Sleep claimed her once more, a restful 
dreamless drowse so that she woke refreshed and eager to hunt.
That night she slept peacefully, but the next night and the next, Romar was 
there. Gradually she came to know him until at length he was able to speak of 
his deeper fears. Of his pain and humiliation.
"It is as I had always imagined rape to be. An invasion not of body alone, but a 
tearing at the spirit. Each time it uses my power, I retreat deep within myself, 
yet each time the place I have free grows smaller. One day it will wrench from 
me all that I am and there will be nothing left but a shell that walks and talks 
in my image."
Eleeri heard the bitter fear that edged the words. Without thinking, she 
responded. Let him know that he was not alone in his fears; she, too, had been 
abused and cowered beneath that terror. She spoke slowly of her aunt and uncle. 
Of their hatred for her blood and race.
Romar was caught by her tale. "Then you are different in the world you left?"
"So they counted me. But I am human, as were my people. They fought for their 
land, to keep the way of life they valued. No more than that." Her hand 
movements slowed. "Too much hate; always there is hate. Why cannot people live 
in peace? Why must they always covet what other have?"
A tired smile broke over the face of the man. "Because they are people. I 
sometimes think the urge to own and take what you do not is inbuilt in us all. A 
growth upon the animal need to hold territory." He glanced at their sign. 
"Tomorrow night let us debate more of this. If naught else, it takes my mind 
from my own fears." He was gone then, leaving Eleeri to her own dreaming. Two 
nights later, she was able to reach him once more. She had spent the time 
considering. Now she signed busily.
"How were you taken?"
"I do not know, I was struck on the head and remember little. I was hunting. I 
recall a campsite, lying down to sleep; then I was where I am now. I think 
perhaps I was taken as I slept. I did not know another had begun to use the 
tower. Therefore I slept no great distance away." He shrugged. "It was folly. 
But I had hunted well and my horse was very weary. I camped to allow him time to 
recover. For that, both of us paid."
Her hands went out to him as her fingers flicked through the signs. "Do not 
blame yourself. But what of the tower? Can you tell me more? What of he who uses 
it?"
Romar eyed her. "It is a place of very great power from the Dark. It seems to 
call to those of its kind who are lesser and would be more. They lose and are 
destroyed, but always there seems to be another. But I am called, dream well." 
He was gone and she slept more deeply.
Nights came and went after that. Sometimes they brought Romar and together they 
pondered philosophical questions, shared lives, and even small jokes as 
friendship grew. She knew her company was enabling him to hold on with more 
strength. Perhaps some of her own vitality was leaching across the barrier to 
replenish his own store. Whatever it was, he had come to appear less worn as the 
nights of comradeship passed. By now they were as old friends, each comfortable 
with the other.
Yet still Eleeri wavered. She knew this friendship had a claim upon her now. But 
so, too, did the older friendship with Tharna and Hylan. Was she to risk them, 
perhaps even those others who shared their home? The Dark Tower was feared by 
even the evil that served it. How much more, then, should those of the Light 
stand back from combat?
Yet in her heart she knew what held her back. It was fear, quite simply—not of 
dying, but of losing all she had found here. The more she put the knowledge from 
her, the more it returned to nag at the fringes of her mind. At length she made 
a decision. She would wait. Once, long ago, she had heard some joke about that 
sort of decision. That put off, either it would grow to where something must be 
done, or the problem would solve itself. With that decided, she was more relaxed 
with Romar when he came again. She did not know he, too, had seen the battle and 
understood it.
He would not demand of her more than she could give. He had long since realized 
that she was one who walked her own path. To urge her against her own wishes 
would only be to harden her mind against the thing he asked. Nor had he any 
rights in this. She was not even of his race, let alone his kin.
He studied her as they talked. She was beautiful—oh, not by some standards, but 
he was not of a kind which lusted after a plump and witless prettiness. He 
admired the swift litheness of her movements, the slender body, pride in every 
line. His maleness was not challenged to anger by her weapons skill. She was one 
to guard a man's back, to stand as an equal in an uneasy land. With her a man 
could be himself, not watching his tongue for fear of alarming a soft frail 
female.
At first he had been drawn to her by a terrible need for some kind of 
companionship. Now it was more. There might be for him no tomorrow, no future, 
but if there were, then he wished to spend it with her. Still he allowed nothing 
to show, neither desire nor understanding. He would make it no harder for her 
than she was already making it for herself. He watched as she battled with her 
own fears. Watched her waver between wishing to storm the tower to his aid, and 
fearing she would lose all she had won in this new land.
Then the power began to draw more strongly again upon him so that for many 
nights he must stand alone. Eleeri guessed the reason he did not walk her 
dreams. Outside the canyon the Gray Ones bayed the hunt more often. The rasti 
seemed to grow in ferocity so that for some time she left them in peace. A 
warrior did not fight against foolish odds. But her heart burned to ignore the 
teachings of a lifetime. She soothed herself often, reminding herself of Far 
Traveler's tales. So many had been warnings against the impetuousness of youth. 
But still she longed to see the face of one who had grown to be friend. To share 
her mind's thoughts, to share her— No. A warrior did not fight against foolish 
odds. As for her heart, let it be kept for one with a better chance of life.
In her distress of mind, she roamed wider than ever before. Once she met a 
scout, at least so she believed him, though he said nothing of his reasons for 
being in the Keplian lands. She spoke with him politely before moving on. 
Something moved in his eyes and she was wary, keeping the pony beyond reach of 
any hand weapon. Tharna joined her a short time later.
*He follows.*
Eleeri swore irritably. "I don't like this. What's the man after?"
*He hunts.* Minds shared the scent of a predator on the trail. Eleeri turned 
over possibilities as they trotted on.
Her eyes scanned the terrain they had been traversing as the man had appeared. 
Then she understood. Wordlessly she conveyed it to her friend. The mare faltered 
in her smooth gait as she, too, eyed the land and its contours.
*He saw us together. He will believe us both, then, of the Dark.*
"So I think. The question is, do we attempt to lose him or will he attack?"
A mental shrug was her only answer. The woman nodded. The mare was right. They 
could only wait and see. One thing she decided: she would not allow them to be 
trailed too far in the direction of the canyon. If others found them there, 
they, too, might leap to conclusions. That she would not risk.
She became aware that Tharna was distressed by the human's assumption that the 
mare was of the Dark. Eleeri reached out to stroke the rough mane, to scratch 
gently at the base of the small erect ears.
"It isn't your fault, kin-sister. We are in Keplian lands and not so far from 
the tower. He would have assumed I was of the Dark even if he had not seen us 
together. He knows me not; my clothing is not of the kind his people wear." She 
glanced down at the hackamore she used to guide the sturdy dun. "Even my bridle 
is not of their kind. I remade this into one I preferred, and close as we were, 
he could see the differences. Let him hunt; we will lose him quickly."
But in that she proved wrong. Whatever else the man might be, he was a tracker. 
He was falling back as the dusk deepened, but still he clung grimly to their 
trail.
"Best we do not return?"
Unspoken agreement.
Eleeri swung the pony away from their homeward trail to move instead parallel to 
the stream. Better not to approach their ford, either. The tracker might see 
enough to follow that across the stream and into the hills. She wavered, wanting 
to drift back in to cover and slay him as he passed. The man was a danger to all 
she held dear. If he followed them to the canyon, he would doubtless return with 
others to kill them all. Yet she was unwilling to kill him out of hand. They 
fought on the same side in this battle. Medicine could turn against one who 
killed his own.
*He still follows,* Tharna observed.
Eleeri shared her indecision. Perhaps if they continued they could make a wide 
circle around the Keplian lands, lose this one in the rougher foothills far to 
the southeast. That was if he would follow them on a trail for so many days. But 
if he would, then they might lose him without the need to slay. On that last 
they were in accord. They dropped to a steady walk, leaving clearer signs as 
they moved on. Let him trail them now—it was their wish.
That he did for two more days. But on the third night he seemed to have lost the 
trail. Woman and mare halted on a small hill to study their back trail.
"No sign of him. The last I saw was last night's fire."
*Do you think we've lost him, kin-sister?*
Eleeri looked doubtful. "There's no reason we should have. He's followed us 
through more difficult tracking than this. Why should he lose us now?"
*Perhaps he has wearied of following?*
"Maybe, but I have an unpleasant feeling there's more to it. I think I'd like to 
backtrack."
*You think he's run into trouble. Surely we would have heard or seen something.* 
Eleeri considered as she recalled the night. The wind had shifted soon after 
dark so that it blew from them to their follower. It had increased until by 
moonhigh it had been blowing hard enough to take any sounds away from them with 
ease. By dawn it had fallen to a light breeze, but if there had been an attack 
on the man around the middle night…
*Is it for us to seek him out? He walks these lands by his own will. He chose to 
hunt us both.*
"I know that, but I'm curious."
Her friend heaved a loud sigh, then turned to retrace their tracks. With a grin, 
Eleeri heeled the pony up with her again. Tharna was just as curious; she'd 
never say so, but she was as interested in reasons as her kin-sister. They moved 
cautiously, watching any cover they neared for signs any hid within.
Ahead lay the larger patch of taller trees in which their hunter had stopped the 
previous night. Both halted abruptly as the breeze switched directions. To their 
noses came the stink of blood, death, and Gray Ones.
"So now we know. Your nose is keener. Are any still there?"
*None living.* They moved forward slowly, both alert to danger.
Within the grove the scent became stronger. Eleeri held her nose. "What is that 
smell? It can't be bodies; if the man is dead, it was only last night it 
happened."
The mare fiddle-footed nervously. *It stinks now of power. Be wary.* They slid 
closer, eyes flicking from side to side. To their surprise, the grove was 
hollow, a thick triple circle of trees about an inner clearing.
*I knew not that this was here, kin-sister. It is on the edge of our lands, but 
I rarely traveled this way.*
The woman shrugged. "It feels like power, but nothing dangerous?" Silently 
Tharna sent doubt. Many things in this ancient land felt safe—to prove as deadly 
as any obvious danger. Eleeri moved closer to the bodies. She counted 
thoughtfully. Whoever their hunter, he had been a fighter. He lay sprawled in 
the clearing; around him four Gray Ones lay. Somehow she had no wish to go 
toward them. There was still no feeling of danger, but something about the way 
the bodies lay was ringing alarm bells.
She stared at them as Tharna fidgeted. About them the turf in the clearing was 
short, almost groomed. The trees, then? She studied them. Interesting that it 
was a triple circle. Perhaps this place had once been some kind of temple.
*I smell power, but no danger as yet. Let us remain still and think.* Eleeri's 
eyes went back to the five bodies and it was then that she realized what had 
troubled her about them.
Although the grass was a bare inch high, the figures lying here seemed to be 
half hidden within it. She moved to one side; from a new perspective the view 
was the same. Tharna, too, stared as the idea was passed. Eleeri stepped forward 
delicately to pick up the hunter's sword. A soft grinding made her jerk upright. 
On the west side of the clearing something they had taken to be a boulder was 
slowly unfolding. It turned dim black eyes on them.
"Mine!" A rusty voice proclaimed. "Not take mine."
The woman bowed. Politeness cost nothing, and here it could save lives. As she 
straightened once more, her eye was caught by the nearest body. Surely it had 
slipped deeper into the grass? Understanding came. A temple of sorts, yes, a 
place that the dead might find honorable burial in a self-maintaining system.
She bowed again, more deeply. "Guardian of the Dead, we came only to retrieve 
the personal possessions of this one. We seek nothing else. Will you give them 
to us, then allow us to depart?"
*Never mind those bits and pieces. Let's just leave,* Tharna sent. Eleeri shook 
her head slightly at her friend.
The thing that faced them might take it amiss if it believed they had come for 
the wrong reasons.
The grating voice came slowly. "Give gift."
Hoping she had understood that, Eleeri reached for the bundle tied to her 
saddlebow. It was second nature to her to hunt as they rode, even with one who 
pursued behind them. Three of the plains leapers hung there on a plaited grass 
thong. These she carefully laid out on the grass before the guardian.
"These three for the possessions of this one and free passage," she offered.
The leapers were already sinking into the grass, so small they could be utilized 
at once. The dim black eyes closed and the thing began to curl into 
boulder-likeness again.
"I guess that means we've made a bargain."
The mare snorted softly. She turned toward open land, the pony following 
obediently. Eleeri bent to gather the hunter's sword and saddlebags. She 
wondered what had happened to his horse; the poor thing was probably meat in 
Gray Ones' bellies by now. Still, it was odd none of the wolf-ones had plundered 
the dead already. An unpleasant thought crossed her mind. Maybe the guardian had 
other defenses. It had been very clear that she should not take anything without 
a fair exchange. She smothered a chuckle. It was possible the Gray Ones had 
tried that and got the worst of the bargain.
She headed for the gap through the circle of trees and turned to take one last 
look. By now the bodies were almost gone. Her pace suddenly quickened and she 
all but thrust Tharna from the grove. She continued to urge haste until they 
were well away from the dense growth.
The mare protested, *Why are we hurrying now? We're away and free.*
"I know, but a few points occurred to me."
*Such as—*
"Such as the bodies in that clearing were vanishing almost as we watched. But 
only the bodies of the Gray Ones. I'm sure the hunter's body wasn't disappearing 
nearly as fast and it seemed to be straightening, almost as if it were being 
properly laid out."
Tharna looked baffled. *I do not understand. Why do these things bother you?*
"Because they lead to a couple of conclusions. One: If the Gray Ones' bodies 
vanish that fast, it is possible they were not the ones who killed the hunter. 
This is supported by a fact. They appeared to have no injuries. If they had 
fought him and been slain, surely they'd have wounds. Two: The thing in here 
demanded a gift before it allowed us to leave. I was able to pay, what if I 
hadn't been? Just how capable would it have been of punishing us?"
The Keplian was nodding by now. *You believe the Gray Ones tried to loot the 
bodies and leave,* she sent quietly. *You think the Guardian of the Dead killed 
them.*
"I have no proof, but that's what I think. I also think that grove would be a 
good place to steer clear of in the future—unless we have a few dead bodies we 
don't happen to want." She swung into the saddle. "Let's get out of here. I'm 
tired, dirty, and hungry. If we move fast, we can be home by dark* with luck."
They held to a brisk canter toward the mountains. During much of the hunt they 
had traveled in a wide curve, which they now cut across. By nightfall, they were 
leg-weary but safe within the canyon. Eleeri lit a candle and opened the 
saddlebags she had retrieved from the grove. As she ate and drank, Tharna and 
Hylan crowded in to see what she uncovered within the supple leather.
Eleeri paused to take another bite of wheatcake. Then she tumbled the contents 
across the floor. There was little of interest, just the usual small odds and 
ends carried by any traveler. Nowhere could she find a name or information. But 
this was not like home, where every pocket carried papers, every bag 
identification. She turned the sword over in her hands. It was a good plain 
weapon, well cared for but never of great value.
She looked up at her friends. "What should I do with this?"
Hylan was practical. *There is nothing to say who this one was. He could even 
have been of the Dark. Pass all before the gate runes closely. If they give no 
warning, save the possessions. If fighting comes, one may need them. But I would 
speak of the human to no one, lest others come seeking more of you. He is dead 
and guardian-buried. Let him lie.*
It was a long speech for the stallion, but before he ended, both listeners were 
nodding agreement. The runes passed the rescued gear as innocent of evil. It was 
stowed away. Sooner or later it would be of use.
Eleeri retired to her bedding, her mind still mulling over the recent events. 
One thing she had not mentioned to her friends still troubled her. She was sure 
the hunter had been of Mayrin and Jerrany's race. His face, too, had been thin 
with strong cheekbones, his body lean in the rough clothing. The wide-open eyes 
had been the gray of slate, and the hair black. For one horrified moment as she 
first saw him, her heart had slowed, then raced in fear. He had looked so like 
Romar. As she looked again, she had seen it was merely the likeness of kind, not 
kin. But that spasm of fear had chilled her. Even now as she recalled it, she 
shivered.
Her mind turned over this knowledge. Romar wasn't kin to her. She owed him no 
kinswoman's duty. But he had become a friend—and more?
She had known when she looked upon the dead hunter's face that she loved Romar. 
Through the long nights of talking, of sharing hopes, beliefs, and dreams, she 
had grown to feel for him. But was that sufficient for her to risk all she was 
in an effort to free him? Slowly she decided it was.
She rolled over onto her back and stared up at the stone ceiling. This new land 
had given her so much, perhaps now it would give her love. Her thoughts wandered 
to Far Traveler, who had shown her the path. She had taken it knowing that she 
could never return. Yet so far she had held back from a full commitment.
Gradually she made her decisions. She would need power to free Romar, help from 
others. The help was easy. Mayrin and Jerrany would aid as soon as she spoke of 
Romar's captivity and danger. It was time and past time she shared all she knew 
of that with them. But the power…
Still, the powers here had answered her in minor ways. She shook herself free of 
the blankets, walking steadily down toward the entrance to the canyon. There she 
placed her hand flat against the runes.
"I am not of your kind," she said slowly, thinking as she spoke. "But I go to do 
battle against the evils you guard us from. I am not of your blood, but I stand 
with those who are against the Dark. I am not of your world, but I choose to be 
now, to remain for good or ill as it befalls me."
She waited, watching as the runes showed a little more clearly. Their light 
grew, gathering as a soft mist sheening against the dark rock walls. Her fingers 
traced the signs of ward and guard.
"Show me what I should do."
The answer came in a blaze of light so great she shut her eyes against the 
flame. Power seemed to pool about her, to gather like a shawl across her 
shoulders, to drip jewellike from her hands. Then the light shifted. Before her 
a great arrow stretched down the canyon. It met the golden mist and a path 
opened. Eleeri bowed her head. A question asked—and answered. She would follow 
the path the power showed. She began to walk toward the mist.

12
From either side of her Tharna and Hylan came then, to walk with her. From their 
minds she received no fear, only a growing sense of excitement and anticipation. 
No fear, only the belief that beyond hope they were about to receive a greatly 
longed-for gift. They reached the edge of the mist and paced slowly down the 
path the power had carved from it. Deeper and deeper they plunged. Behind them 
there was no sight of the canyon, only the mist closing in. It felt strange, 
Eleeri thought. As if she walked in a place that was not quite of this world.
Shadows formed, to vanish as the three came near. Then one came which grew more 
solid as they closed in. Eleeri strained her eyes but kept to the steady 
unhurried walk. There was nothing to fear, nor would she show any, for the power 
might take that as an insult. Beside her the Keplians moved, hooves almost 
spurning the ground. In them the joyous sense of hope lifted higher. Before them 
the mist darkened, developing edges, columns, a peaked roof carved with hanging 
vines and laden with fruit. The mist drew back then as they paused to stare in 
awe.
A sense of warmth gathered about them, a greeting to friends arrived. The 
Keplians waited as Eleeri moved; surely the welcome was not for them also, 
children of shade and shadow? A shaft of the golden mist curled out, drifting to 
encircle them like a lover's arms. They were welcome, thrice welcome, let them 
enter where others of their kind had once stood in friendship with those who 
dwelled here. Eleeri felt the surge of joy from her friends, and her own mind 
echoed it. She slowed her pace so that her friends might walk beside her once 
more.
By now the entire structure was clear, and they halted to study it. Unused to 
buildings, the Keplians had nothing to compare it with save the Dark Tower and 
the ancient keep in their canyon. Eleeri had seen far more in reality and in 
pictures. The building reminded her of the many photographs she had seen of the 
ruined temples of ancient Greece. It was not one of them, but had the same air— 
great age and a lost power hung over it. It was built from massive blocks of 
some warm honey-colored stone. Within the stone, silvery streaks laced the 
rock—the colore of the mist that had finally parted to let them in, Eleeri 
noted.
Was this place even here? Could the mist have become solid to show them 
something which in truth was not there? Her eyes came back to the entrance. She 
drifted forward to touch the steps. Under her fingers the stone appeared real. 
She lifted her head. She'd been wondering what lay behind the mist ever since 
she came to the canyon. Now she would find out and no fear would stay her steps. 
She trod forward boldly, past a great bronze door cast with detailed images, 
although she would have loved to stop there, to peer at the tiny perfect scenes 
she saw out of the corners of her eyes.
Tharna and Hylan flanked her as she entered the great hall. It seemed to stretch 
forever to her startled gaze. Mist curled and lingered here so that she could 
not see the walls or far end of the hall. Light shimmered from that mist, 
brightening as they walked forward. It pooled about two oblong shapes that were 
raised above the floor on a small dais.
Slowly the three approached. Was this right? Were they called to this place? The 
welcome grew again: reassurance, friendship. This was very right, let them come 
forward, let them see and know.
Around Eleeri's throat the pendant became heavier. Her hands went up to lift it 
away. As it ceased to touch her flesh, mist gathered there also; the weight fled 
but before her stood the pendant's Keplian once more. The perfect stallion, eyes 
gleaming sapphire in the mist's light. He reached out to touch noses with each 
of her companion Keplians and the woman caught the wonder that filled them. Her 
own hands went out, not to the stallion but to her friends. Minds met with 
power. Around them light shone brighter and from the dais came a great cry that 
echoed in their minds.
*Be welcome. Come to us and be welcomed, blood of our blood, children of kin.*
Eleeri allowed her feet to drift forward, up the seven shallow wide steps of the 
dais, until she could see what lay there within the cradle of the golden stone. 
The stallion of the pendant, too, had moved. He mounted the steps on the other 
side of her and reared high. Not a threat, Eleeri noted, more as if he paid 
homage to those who lay there. She laid one hand on the stone bed, felt the 
power which ran here. Whoever these had been, they had been Great Ones.
*Ah, for that we thank you, blood of our blood, but none were so great as to be 
invincible, be they of Light or of Dark.*
Involuntarily she stepped back. They Great Ones were not dead. Unless—unless in 
this land the dead could still speak? Gentle amusement met that thought. 
Encouraged, she moved back to look down at the two who lay there as if asleep.
She stared, blinked, and stared again. If you took from them the clothing, the 
fine jewels, the aura of power that yet lifted about them, the woman looked 
like—she had seen her own face in a mirror often enough. They might have been 
mother and daughter. The man, too, looked familiar. She studied the lines on the 
thin face, the weariness at mouth corners. Ka-dih, but he was Romar! Romar as he 
might appear worn thin with living and twenty years older. She cried out then.
"Who are you? What do you want of us?"
Pictures came in reply, as if they happened before her eyes. No sounds came, but 
what she saw gripped her, drew her in so that she stood motionless.
The two before her lived, loved, and laughed in a world that had once been. 
Lived here in this building of golden stone, loved each other, wed in heart, 
mind, and body. Laughed with—ah, yes, laughed with their children, a boy and a 
girl, twins, barely old enough to toddle upright. She saw the enemy their bright 
happiness made, saw him plot and scheme to bring them down, these kin to the 
Light he feared and hated. She watched as their lands fell prey to the evil he 
sent. She saw how at first they would have reasoned with him. They wanted no 
enemy, no battle, no blood shed on green grass. But it takes one only to begin a 
war, and war came to them from this enemy adept, steeped in Dark power.
At long last they understood that in this enemy there was no mercy. They turned 
from laughter to tears, weeping as their friends fell, as those who looked to 
them for guidance were slain. They created others. Meddled in the stuff of life 
to find friends who might stand with them. Called on powers and ancient names 
for aid.
That aid was given. Keplians came to walk with them as friends and companions at 
need. To fight beside them, to stand against the Dark at the side of Light.
"Then how…"
She was shown. Saw the enemy as he crafted an answer. The Keplian had come from 
power which was neutral, but it could be twisted, changed. This he did, yet what 
had been created for the Light could not be turned to Dark save by its own will. 
The race were of the shadow by his evil, but of the Dark by theirs alone. Those 
who chose differently could turn again to that which had created them.
A surge of emotion shook her. Her friends saw even as she did. Beside her the 
great black mare knelt on the steps. Her mind was clear: no words, but a 
cry—need, longing—let them return to the Light!
*Patience, child of kin, patience.*
The pictures swept Eleeri away once more. She saw how the forces of Light 
failed. Good did not always win, or why would evil strive? She watched as the 
lord and lady's forces fell back until the canyon alone was held in safety. That 
last stronghold would not yield: the enemy knew all his power would not force 
its gates. But he could starve them out, keep them pent within forever. This he 
planned, but no plan is safe; it may be known, guessed at.
And this was so. In their hall the two sat, their children playing about their 
feet.
The enemy had not known. One by one, two by two, they had sent those who were 
loyal away to safety. The Keplians had gone, the humans, the Flannan who shared 
their home. Even the horses and dogs, the two cats in whose friendship the lady 
had delighted. The hall was empty now save for the four who sat there. Eleeri 
was somehow privy to their conversation, but not in words. She simply understood 
as they decided. The time had come to send the children, then to leave their 
beloved home themselves. To join friends who were also of the Light.
She saw the rainbow play of power, saw a gateway open and the small boy toddle 
through. Then something struck. The gate shimmered, twisted, turned aside in 
dimensions unknown as the tiny girl entered. There was a cry of terror from the 
lady. Power roared—everything two parents had to save their child. Eleeri caught 
a glimpse of coast, of waves that hurled themselves in unending battle with the 
rock. With an almost audible snap her mind recognized the scene. She had been 
shown photographs more than once. From those who sent her the pictures there was 
a rising sense of warmth. Yes, yes!
Eleeri allowed it to sink slowly into her mind. Cornwall! That had been the 
Cornish coast. She understood what they showed her now, and why the path of the 
gone-before ones had opened to her. But—why had she been called here? Was there 
a purpose, something she should do?
*Patience. Watch.*
She saw the gate fade, saw the lady slump, weeping into cupped hands, her lord 
comforting her. The child had lived. She would continue to live even though the 
world be strange to her. Their son, too, was safe with friends. But the power 
had gone. They no longer had enough to build another gate for their own escape, 
or the escape of the great stallion who was brother-kin to the lord and had 
remained to carry them to safety at need. They conferred. If they could not 
leave, neither could that enemy which prowled outside enter. Not so long as they 
lived. This last place they could deny him, though they might not escape.
They chose, all three of them, to keep inviolate the home they had loved. Eleeri 
watched as they worked power to bind the Keplian into the small image. Something 
so small would be overlooked. Only when it touched the flesh of one of the blood 
and kin would it answer. She saw the stallion shrink, saw the lady stoop to mold 
a lock of mane in her fingers, add the silver loop. Silver, a metal of the 
Light. Any who found it would know this was no image from the Dark. They used 
the last of the greater power to send the pendant—somewhere. Then they stood 
hand in hand.
She felt their sorrow, their pain that all they had loved was gone. They would 
never see their children grow, never run laughing beneath the hot sun to plunge 
into cool water. Never blaze across the lower lands on the backs of kin-friends 
who bore them willingly. Slowly they turned. Power flamed about them; stone 
answered as they crafted the dais. A long shallow cradle topped it, a bed that 
might hold the last of those who dwelt here. They lay down. From them power 
poured upward, curved to meet in a shimmering shield, then faded into nothing. 
It was there, but unseen.
The enemy came boldly as it faded. He could not enter in power, but he would use 
the remnants of theirs. Build power again once past the runes. He would use this 
place as his stronghold now. He saw the dais, marched up the shallow steps, and 
bent to smirk at those within the cradle. He had won! He laughed, then louder 
until his mirth rocked the silent hall, echoed oddly from the hangings that 
still lined the walls. He had won! This land was his to do with as he would. The 
Light had failed, fallen. The Dark was triumphant. He lifted his hands to a howl 
of exultation. Then he stooped again. One last thing. He would destroy those two 
who lay here powerless. He drew on power, smiled, and cast it from him.
It lay over them, but they did not wither from the blast. Its master had turned 
away, avid to see what he would get from this conquest. His eyes inventoried the 
tapestries, the furniture. There would be more yet in other rooms. He would have 
it all. Behind him power moved. He had cast off his own to enter; this was the 
power left within the walls. He had seized it, tried to make it destroy, but it 
was not for his using. It gathered, then, as he turned, it struck. He cried out, 
reeling from the awful blow. Stumbling, staggering, he sought safety, fleeing 
the anger he had raised.
Beneath him his body crumbled. The two who lay there heard the echoes of his 
cry, the rage at his defeat. Now only a thin film of dust lay over the floor, 
veiling the gold of the stones. A small wind arose, lifting it, bearing it forth 
past the entrance of the canyon, there to disperse it among the hills. A Great 
One had lost his gamble; the Light was strengthened thereby. But that malice had 
not died. In another form it would return, ever seeking to destroy.
In the canyon, all was silence. All that could be done had been. Now let them 
sleep away the years together until release came. Here the Dark could not enter. 
One day the Light would return—the Light, the kin, and a child of the blood. 
Until that day they were together; it was enough.
And the story was not quite finished. Eleeri watched as slow time took the 
tapestries, the delicate fabrics first. Then the wood, powdering, falling into 
dust, the swords that had hung on the walls slowly changing to rust, sifting to 
the floor. Only the stone remained. Stone of outer keep and stone of inner 
place. Faces flashed before her. The two here could not show her her own 
heritage, although that she could guess. They could show her of Romar—a little. 
Their son had prospered, wed and bred sons in turn, marrying the daughter of the 
house that had sheltered him. Other faces, other men, all with that look of the 
man who lay before her. Daughters, too, of that line, with the look of the lady.
But in the end, all bloodlines fail. She was the last in direct descent of the 
daughter who had gone strange voyaging. Eleeri felt horror strike at her. They 
had not forced her life into this pattern?
*It was none of our doing, far-daughter. Your life was always yours to live. We 
did but open the gate when we felt the call of your spirit.*
"How? I thought your power was all gone."
The answer flowed through her; tears sprang to her eyes. They had used that 
which had remained to them. Down the centuries it had kept their bodies intact, 
their spirits within them, waiting. Sensing her need, they had given all to 
this, their far-daughter. Even as they spoke, the bodies crumbled slowly, 
inexorably. Spirits strained to leave. But they had gathered the rags of power, 
held to await her arrival. Now she was here; she knew.
*Find our far-son, free him, take this land. It goes to those of our blood to be 
held for the Light. Bring back the kin-friends to that Light also.*
From the woman a question. Warm laughter reached out to surround her.
*Mare, stallion, come forward.* They did so, trembling. * Far-daughter, look now 
at your kin-sister, your kin-brothers.* Behind them the stallion reared high, 
hooves silver-shod. The Keplians lifted their heads to watch—and sapphire eyes 
blazed. Eleeri stared in wonder.
Amusement. * Darkness cannot live where love and Light are.* The voices pealed 
up in a great cry of triumph. ♦Behold, the kin-friends have returned to the 
Light. Our daughter's blood is come again. Great Ones, let us go now to be at 
peace.*
Tears flooded down Eleeri's face. "Don't go, not yet. I haven't even had time to 
know you."
*To all things there is a time. We have waited so long to be free. Would you 
bind us still?*
She bowed her head. "No," she said softly. "No, go in peace and I'll find Romar. 
I'll free him, too; half of this place is his. But"—she looked down at the 
golden stone— "how can I? I don't have the sort of power you had."
Love reached out. *You are our far-daughter; you will find the way. As for 
friends, two you have here who will fight beside you. Another who will bear you 
for a little. Beyond this place I think others wait. Accept them, lead them.* A 
hand lifted to touch her own. *May rich feasting come from this, far-daughter. 
Food for mind and spirit and heart. Our love to you always.*
The hand slipped away. Both faces smiled at her for an instant. Then the fires 
blazed up to surround them. They died—to reveal an empty cradle. Eleeri bowed 
her head and wept silently. Now she was alone.
Two warm noses thrust indignantly at her so that she staggered. Sudden happiness 
flooded her. No, she was wrong; not alone, never alone. She flung her arms about 
the mare, then the stallion.
"I know… I knew them for such a little time, but I think I'll always miss them." 
She sniffed and wiped her eyes. "Well, life goes on. We have to find Romar, free 
him, tell him he owns half of all this, and make Mayrin and Jerrany happy."
She laughed. "A mere nothing. I can do it all tomorrow."
A hoof struck stone; sparks flickered from that blow so that she stared. Behind 
the dais the pendant stallion remained, his eyes glowing softly at her. What had 
they said? Ah, yes. Another who will bear you for a little while. She approached 
him slowly and his nose came down to touch her enquiring fingers. But when she 
would have touched his mind, there was only blankness there. She drew back. 
Surely he could not be evil, not here in this place. Not one who had been 
kin-friend to the lord and lady?
Denial. She nodded. Then it must be that he simply wished to stand apart.
Agreement. Along with that came a feeling. That he must do this, that they might 
not share minds in friendship as he, too, would have wished.
She smoothed the tumbled mane. She would trust him. She would not intrude on his 
thoughts save when he offered them. The mare thrust in beside her, her son at 
her heels. The pendant stallion moved back. Idly Eleeri wondered if he had a 
name.
*No longer—call me what you will.*
Eleeri grinned. "Then I name you Pehnane—'Wasp' in my tongue. Let us go forth to 
sting our enemies."
*Even so, far-kin.*
Hooves followed her as she paced back through the mist. Once again it parted 
slowly before her, closed in behind. She had gone in knowing so little, been 
given such a treasure to fill her mind and heart. Would she be able to return, 
she wondered, or would the place sink now into ruins and dust behind her? She 
shrugged. What did it matter? The canyon, the keep, they were hers. Let the lord 
and lady hold the place in the mist. She would not intrude. From her friends she 
felt approval of that decision. Even Pehnane touched her lightly with agreement. 
Good. Then that was the way it should be.
She stepped from the last curls of mist and strode over the turf. The Keplian 
mares and foals parted for her as astonishment exploded in their minds. She 
whirled to find them staring at Tharna, Hylan, and the magnificent Keplian who 
followed. Hiding a smile, she left her friends to explain. The day had been 
exhausting; she would relish a dip in the stream, then food and drink. In the 
morning she would ride again. They should scout the boundaries of the Gray Ones' 
lands, see how far the evil had moved.
But the night brought Romar to her. His eyes more desperate, face more worn, his 
body lean to the point of gauntness. Hands traced the sign, his voice came to 
her faintly.
"If you cannot aid me soon, it will be too late."
"I know where you are," she said softly. "What I don't know,is how to free you 
safely. I could not bear to see those I love dead in this attempt."
"I will tell you of a door. My master—" his face twisted in pain and anger, 
"plans to move against the Light soon. You could act then."
"How much attention would it call to us?" Eleeri asked practically. A back door 
was all very well, but not if it had alarm bells.
"I may be able to turn his attention aside while you enter. He is stronger than 
I, but his power is not so much greater. That is why he uses me. Once inside, if 
you attack him and I also strive to be free, it may be that we will succeed." He 
said no more, but she understood the thought. If he died in the struggle, he 
would still be free; it was merely a different path. But what of her? She had no 
wish to die facing something of the Dark. Yet—yet this was Mayrin's brother, 
Jerrany's friend. Her far-kin—and she had promised the lord and lady she would 
try.
She gathered all her determination. "Show me all you can."
He did not speak for a long minute, but the look in his eyes was enough. Then he 
spoke quietly and swiftly. The door was one unregarded. Once it had been a 
secret, but to Romar, linked with the Dark mind which used him, knowledge had 
come. To use can be to let slip secrets as well, and so it had proved. With the 
right word it would open. Now that word was hers.
Along with it came warnings: she and whoever entered with her would be tested. 
She must remember that much would be illusion, but perhaps not all. Outside 
there would be no posted guards, although the Gray Ones roamed the area. Inside 
the tower there were those who served the Dark. Not all their weapons would be 
obvious. All the time the sign which hung in the air between them faded. Finally 
he had given her all he knew.
"It will take power to open," he warned. "I cannot say how much. Go to Mayrin 
and Jerrany, beg their aid." He sighed. "I would not draw them in as I have you, 
but without help, the Dark grows. I fear for them even if they cannot help."
Eleeri lifted her hand to trace the sign. "I swear. I will tell them of you, and 
ask them to ride with me to lend what they have. I have little doubt they will 
come. Always they have sought you, fearing lest you had been slain."
She said nothing of the long hours in which she had wrestled with this problem. 
Mayrin might be slender of body, but that slenderness concealed an iron will. 
Jerrany was quite simply Romar's sword-brother as well as his brother-in-law; he 
would have stormed the Dark Tower on his own were there no other way to free 
Romar. If she spoke of the man she dreamed, this would happen. Twice she had 
determined to join forces with them. Each time she had returned to her canyon 
and seen the foals, she had weakened. How could she risk all she and her friends 
were building here?
Besides that, over the months there had been long discussions with Tharna, 
Hylan, and the other Keplians. They had slowly learned the joy of being truly 
free of fear and cruelty. Now it would please them to teach others, to bring 
more of their kind into the canyon until they had learned kindness. The adult 
stallions would be time wasted. But mares and foals could be taught. Was she to 
dismiss all this to ride to war? She might lose everything they had gained, and 
win what? A single man. One she had no need of.
In those flickering seconds before she answered Romar, her mind hardened in 
final decision. To buy a good life at Romar's expense would be wrong. He was her 
far-kin. She owed him aid. Her eyes swept over a face grown slowly more dear to 
her.
If she left Romar to die, she would not be able to live with the decision. In 
the end, it was as simple as that. If he was rescued, Mayrin and Jerrany would 
understand her silence and forgive it. If she died, no one would know why she 
had said nothing for so long. Jerrany at least would understand, if he survived.
The sign faded, wisping into nothingness, and Romar was gone. She stared into 
the gray, remembering the desperation in his tone. The one who used him must be 
close to draining everything. Soon Romar would die in body and mind. Before 
then, she must have summoned help, taken the path to him for freedom or a clean 
death.
In her sleep her hand clenched savagely. If she could not win him free, she 
could do that. He should die at her own hands that the evil one might bind him 
no more. At her hands, death would set his spirit free.
There would be no time for scouting Gray Ones in the morning. With the light she 
must ride. But first—her mind busily turned over various plans and supplies.
A deeper sleep claimed her then. But always as she drowsed, Romar's face watched 
her. Pleading for freedom, hopeful, believing in her. How could she have thought 
to stand back? This was a warrior. It was for her to ride with him in battle. 
Here was one who could accept her as she was. Her mouth curved in a smile that 
made her sleeping face briefly that of a child again. Far-kin, hold on, I am 
coming!

13
She woke with that determination still burning. She breakfasted, then went in 
search of the Keplians.
"Battle-sister, I must have speech with those at the lake. Will you come?" The 
mare stood thoughtfully, enquiring. "I dreamed again last night. Also I swore to 
my far-kin within the mist that I would aid Romar. It seems the time to fulfill 
that vow is come."
♦Dreamed?*
Eleeri smiled affectionately. Tharna always did like to hear it all in order. 
She began to explain. Hylan stood by in silence as he listened closely.
He found a point and broke in. Eleeri halted to hear him. In the Keplian lands 
Hylan had traveled widely over the past two years. He knew them as even the mare 
and woman did not. He was younger in battle and perhaps less wise, but he knew 
things they might need to learn. They listened, eyes intent on him. This would 
help them still further in an attempt to free Romar.
"But I need to ride for the lake, to tell Jerrany and Mayrin all this."
*What then, battle-sister? You cannot bring down the Dark Tower by direct 
assault. It will need cunning. Cunning and power.* Tharna queried.
Eleeri began to talk again, quietly. Her friends nodded approval as she did so. 
It was hazardous, precarious, a chance and no more. But no less, either. The 
influence of the tower was spreading, the strength of its new occupant growing. 
Once Romar was gone, the evil one would seek others to use. Some might even come 
willingly.
"Enough talk. I ride now, this morning. Do either of you come, or do I go 
alone?"
Unnoticed by the three, mares and foals had gathered around them. They, too, had 
listened. Eleeri suddenly stepped back, jumping a little as she saw them for the 
first time. Her eyebrows rose and she glanced from one to the other. A lean 
scarred mare stepped forward. Theela seldom spoke. The scars had come from a 
vain attempt to protect her foal from a stallion. She had been found wandering 
dazed, bleeding, and bereft, to be gently guided back to the canyon by Hylan. 
She was a loner, most often keeping to herself, but her foal by her rescuer was 
now half grown and one of the finest in Eleeri's lands.
Her head lifted. *We will go.*
The words were few, but with them came a quick flow of images so that the woman 
understood. While she, Tharna, and Hylan had conferred, the remaining mares, 
too, had been in conference. They had scores of their own to settle. Forced 
matings, murdered foals, savaged friends among other mares. Here in the canyon 
they had found another way of life. Hylan adored his foals, condescending to 
play games with them and treating their mothers as equals. They might understand 
less of the issues. But one thing they did understand: it was the way of life in 
the canyon, against the way of life out on the plains. To keep the new way, 
they, too, were prepared to do battle.
Eleeri reached out, allowing her fingers to brush the soft nose. "What of your 
foals?"
*Grown some; others stay.*
The woman leaned against Tharna as her eyes swept those who crowded about them. 
That was true enough. Over half the babies were of an age where down in the 
lower lands they would have been driven from the mares for their own safety. 
Here in the richer pasture even the smaller foals were larger and stronger for 
their age than their lowland kin. The mares had ample milk. Should any of those 
who came with her fall, their foals could still be fed.
From one side a colt shouldered his way to her. They had brought him back from a 
foray the previous year. His dam slain by rasti, the foal torn about the legs, 
still they had found him doing his small best to fight. The rasti had been 
toying with him before the kill. Eleeri's arrival had put an end to that. Now 
Shenn faced her, intelligence gleaming in the red-fire eyes.
He reared slightly, his hooves thumping emphatically to the ground. *I go with 
you. I have no foal, no dam, no mate.* He snorted. *I will carry a human, if 
that will aid.*
There was no intake of breath from those listening before Theela nodded. She 
made her meaning plain, her intent clear.
*I, too, will carry a human. I will carry one so that they do not fall. I will 
carry one to fight. If they are injured, I will stand beside them. Bear them 
home again.* She reared, her hooves slamming into the earth. *Kill those who 
murdered my foal, kill those who hurt my friends, kill the ones who would take 
this place away from us.*
With each sentence her hooves slammed back to earth. The colt was the first to 
follow her, but others took up the cry. Hooves thundered against soil, thumped 
dully against rock. Eyes shone red as sweat sleeked black hides. Foals bucked 
and whinnied in excitement as the mind-cries went up.
Into this Eleeri's voice slashed. "You say you will bear humans—will you bear 
them to the rasti burrows to fight? To draw off the attention of the Dark one, 
to drain his power? Will you stand off those of your kind who would fight 
against us, even kill them if you must? Be wholly damned by them, hated and even 
hunted?"
Theela reared high. Her belly gleamed in the sunlight as it showed the wicked 
scars marring the smooth hide. *I will do all these things. What does their 
hatred matter? As for being hunted*—her head tossed, ears flattened wickedly—*I 
have been hunted before. Let them hunt if they will. They may even find me.* Her 
teeth were bared, her eyes madness.
If any enemies find her, they may not live to regret it, Eleeri thought, seeing 
the ferocity. This one will fight pukutsi when she fights. She may go down, but 
she will take many with her. She took a breath.
"Go, think of this. I ride now to talk with the human keep. We must make plans. 
An attack must be made that is coordinated so we waste none of our strength."
She saw the colt nod slow agreement to that thought. The scarred mare nodded, 
trotting off to graze. Eleeri noticed that she was no longer alone though. With 
her Shenn had gone, his flanks brushing hers as he grazed beside the mare. She 
met Tharna's eye and a gentle amusement flickered between them for an instant. 
Then the two were all business.
"Will you both come with me?"
Tharna moved closer. *I will carry you.* Her tone was a little jealous so that 
Eleeri was touched. Hylan crowded up.
*I can carry you back?* His mind-send was hopeful and Eleeri laughed.
"Even so, kin-brother. We are three, but I'll have to bring the pony." There was 
an irritable snort but no objection. Swiftly she saddled the willing animal, 
balancing packs of hides and weapons she would take for the lake keep. She 
vaulted to Tharna's back and they trotted toward the canyon exit. Seemingly from 
thin air Pehnane materialized, eyes sapphire flames.
* Where do you go?*
In a few quick words Eleeri explained, guessing he wished to hear it from her, 
although surely he must already know. Approval came to her.
*The plan may work. What of those who say they, too, will fight?*
"What of them?" Her voice was hot. "They have a right to protect what they 
believe in."
His sending was mild. *I did not say aught against that. Do they fight for the 
Light?* There was an odd intensity in the sending of that question.
From behind came a snuffle as Theela joined them. *I hear.*
Pehnane swung his head to her. *And you answer?*
Her head dropped as she considered, then lifted again. *To kill foals is evil. 
To mate with mares who do not wish is evil—wrong. To live as we did in our lands 
was…* she fumbled for the right word.
Tharna supplied it. *Dark.*
*Yes. If that is Dark and how we live here is Light, then I fight for the Light. 
I die for the Light.* Her sentences stopped, but her mind still sent—a bitter 
litany of pain and sorrows in pictures that tore at them all. *I stand with the 
Light.* The mare repeated slowly, as Pehnane looked at her. Her mind sent a sort 
of grim satisfaction. *I know what I say. So do those others there.* Her nose 
indicated the grazing Keplians. *They do not hate so greatly, but they will 
fight.*
*I believe. Come—follow.*
Trailed by the mare, he paced slowly toward the exit. At his approach, the runes 
blazed into life. His nose went up to trace one, then another, and finally a 
third.
*Do this also.*
For an instant she gazed up at the flaring signs. Then her nose, too, traced 
over the ancient signs. They blazed higher, blue mist swirling and condensing, 
smoking from them to cast a veil over Theela's head. It cleared and Eleeri bit 
back a gasp. The mare stood proudly, her eyes yet fire, but now the clear pure 
blue that marked the other Keplians standing with her. The colt moved in slowly 
from where he had waited behind his friend. His head lifted to study her, then 
the signs.
*I stand with Theela.* He said no more, but before they could prevent it, he was 
tracing the first sign. Eleeri drew in her breath in wonder. The blue mist 
swirled out to take him in its embrace. The power knew its own and all hearts. 
In that fraction of a second as he touched, it judged and sentenced. A colt with 
sapphire eyes faced them, shivering a little still at his own boldness.
Hylan's mind-voice was dry. *If we are done here, can we now leave? Or must we 
wait while everyone lines up to rub noses with a wall?*
The colt pawed the ground. *I would journey with you.*
Eleeri dropped from Tharna's back and stepped toward him. Her fingers went up to 
stroke the mane from his eyes. Wordlessly she sent a picture. Mayrin—laughing, 
playing with her children. Looking down at Romar's limning, pain in her eyes. 
Pictures, memories of gentle laughter, of the essence of her friend.
Shenn's ears perked. *I would carry her. She is like you.*
Theela strolled over and waited. Now Eleeri sent Jerrany, of his strength, his 
caring for his mate, his small ones, his anger at cruelty. His kindnesses.
A nose thrust into her hands. *I will carry this one if he wishes. If he will 
trust me.* Theela sent.
"Then come. At the keep you can meet him and make your decisions. Pehnane?" She 
turned to find the stallion had vanished once more. "I wish he wouldn't do that. 
It's like having a ghost about the place." There was a soft mental giggle from 
her kin-sister as Eleeri remounted.
*That one does as he will. We do not need him.* She moved into a gliding walk 
and, followed by the obedient pony and three of her kind, paced away along the 
trail.
As they traveled, the woman was making up her mind. To simply arrive with four 
Keplians might cause some— well, surprise at the very least. It might even 
provoke someone into an attack before they thought. Better to ride in on the 
pony, explain it all to her friends, then call in the Keplians. Jerrany could be 
as lighthearted and as giddy as any boy. But under that he was a warrior of a 
warrior people. He would see the advantages to all of this.
She had only to tell them both of Romar and her dreaming. That would be to drop 
stones on one side of the scales. If they knew there was a chance to free Romar, 
to defeat the Dark Tower in the doing—to make safe their lands for a while 
longer—then they would go to battle with goodwill, taking allies where they 
offered.
She glanced sideways to where Shenn pranced, unable in his youthful high spirits 
to prevent himself from a few caperings. The stunning blue of his eyes struck 
her anew. A sign of the Light. Seeing them, she was certain Jerrany would be 
able to keep any from acting foolishly once she had spoken to him. The keep had 
its own runes of ward and guard. The Keplian should be able to pass those also. 
Another demonstration that they were now of the Light. She nodded to herself. So 
long as she moved carefully, all should be well.
They wended their way along the trails, always keeping a lookout. Here in the 
higher hills they were far from the Gray Ones' ranging, but there were other 
things which dwelt here. Some were of minor darkness, others quite simply 
dangerous. The rasti colony was many miles away, but solitary males often 
wandered up into this area. One rasti was no danger to five warriors, but even 
so, a bitten fetlock would be no light problem should the teeth go deep. 
However, they saw no one and nothing over the several days of journeying.
They worked their way down toward the lake on the third day and the keep tower 
came into view as they topped a small rise. Part of the journey had been spent 
in discussion, so all knew what they should do. Eleeri dropped from Tharna's 
back, calling the pony to her. By now she was skilled in the uses of her gift. 
As her power had grown with experience, she was finding she could do far more 
than she had ever imagined. It was now that Cynan's patient months of teaching 
and his stores of shared information were coming into their own. She swung into 
the dun's saddle, leaning over to pat first Tharna, then Hylan. Then, gathering 
the reins, she rode down the hill to where a sentry was announcing her 
appearance in stentorian tones. Mayrin and Jerrany came running.
"Eleeri, welcome, but—" Mayrin paused, "you look so grim. Is something wrong?"
"Not wrong, no. But let us be private quickly." She saw the way both faces 
looked then. Eager, yet half afraid to know. She swept them into the solar, 
where Mayrin slammed the door.
"We are private here—speak quickly. Oh, Eleeri, have you found him? Have you 
found Romar?"
"Yes!" Eleeri said baldly.
Then she found herself grinning as Mayrin seized her hands, dancing her about 
the room. They subsided, panting, as Jerrany smiled down.
"Tell us everything you can," he requested gently. "Then we can make plans."
Eleeri talked. Her friends listened until she was done with the tale, including 
those of her blood who had waited so long in the canyon. Then it was Jerrany who 
commented.
"We can expect no help from the valley or its lady. I have been sending 
information all along to Duhaun. She knows all that we know of you, Eleeri. And 
I have written of the spread of evil into these parts where it was not before." 
He smiled. "Indeed letters have been flying like hail between our keep and the 
valley's lady. We made plans should this time come. Now we move to put them into 
action and little time shall be wasted."
"What plans?" Eleeri asked practically.
"For a start, the valley can't help because they are already fighting elsewhere. 
The evil has grown strong near the Forest of the Mosswomen and it is taking most 
of their strength to protect the outlying stronghold and keeps in that 
direction. However the children are to be sent to the valley, to Duhaun. To help 
she has sent us five men-at-arms. She has also sent a gift."
He held it out as Eleeri took it gingerly. It was a tiny lovely thing. A carved 
piece of crystal in which living colors seemed to swirl and blend.
"What are we to do with it?" Eleeri questioned.
Jerrany's face became almost boyish again as he grinned cheerfully. "What it is 
I do not know. But if we prevail, we are to break it. I told the lady we may 
have to storm the Dark Tower. This is her reply."
"In other words, we have to win to use it?"
"Just so."
Mayrin reached out to take it. Quietly she busied herself threading it on a 
chain, which she placed silently about her own neck. Eleeri hid a grin. It was 
clear Mayrin intended to ride with them.
Eleeri could imagine the arguments which had taken place before her arrival. 
Jerrany had been convinced Romar was captive somewhere. Once he found that 
place, he would attack. Eleeri had seen, too, that Mayrin would never allow 
herself to be left behind. Why should she? The woman was trained to bow and 
sword, and as good a rider as any. True, Mayrin was ten years older than Eleeri, 
but Tehnup—experienced warriors far older—had ridden to war in the days of the 
Nemunuh's glory. From what she had heard of Estcarp, women did not usually ride 
to war. With the coming over-mountain to Escore, many had chosen to don breeches 
and take up sword.
She stood, pulled her friend into a strong warm embrace. "I greet a warrior who 
rides."
Mayrin's face flushed half in pride, half in embarrassment. "Jerrany doesn't 
approve."
He was quick to repudiate that. "I approve, dear heart. Given the choice, I 
would have you on my left, Romar on my right. It is the children I fear for. Who 
will care for them if we fall?"
His wife snorted inelegantly. "Who will care for them if you lose and evil comes 
howling about the keep walls? No, they will not be here but safely in the valley 
with Duhaun. I will be with you."
Eleeri patted his arm. "You're doing the right thing." Mayrin left the room to 
prepare the nurse and those men who would accompany the children. She turned to 
Jerrany. "How did she convince you she should come with us?"
His look was wry. "By convincing me that short of binding and gagging her, I 
could not keep her at home. She quite simply said that she went with me; if I 
refused, she would follow anyway."
He said nothing of the hot words added to that. Mayrin had been rude in all 
earnest to her usually adored husband when he had suggested she remain behind. 
She had reminded him—in words that seared his ears—how she had chosen to oppose 
her father in wedding Jerrany. She had then come into a dangerous part of the 
land with no other neighbors, no one to stand with them should evil find them 
here. Shoulder to shoulder she had fought beside him to clear small darknesses 
and dangerous beasts. She had never complained.
In this wilderness she had made a home, borne his children, cared for their 
people. And for all that time her brother had been with them. Romar was her 
brother in blood. Her twin. Half of her heart. She had believed Jerrany cared 
for him, as sword and shield-kin. Through all the years of battles and hard 
drudgery, Romar had aided them. The keep was not his. He had no share in it, but 
he had hunted for food, fought beside them as if it were. Eyes flaming, she had 
demanded if she was now supposed to forget everything.
Jerrany had protested. They were only making contingency plans. Romar might be 
dead. He might be somewhere they could not find to attempt a rescue. There were 
no assurances that Eleeri would ever return with word of Romar. And if she did, 
there were no guarantees he could he saved. If she were killed fighting beside 
him, the children must grow up without either parent.
Mayrin had ignored much of that. Was she to be no more than a brood mare? she 
had demanded. A subservient wife and keep mistress? Her father had cast her off 
for her refusal to wed where he chose. But he would take in his grandchildren 
and treasure them. Her head had jerked then, her eyes meeting his in defiance. 
She would not be lessened! He had accepted her as shieldmate as well as wife. 
Even Romar had been willing that she should fight beside them in those days. Now 
she would fight again—for her home, her brother, and the future of her children. 
Let him try to prevent her if he dared.
He had not. Rather, he had gathered her into his arms, filled with pride in her 
and fear for her.
"I would rather have no one else at my side," he had told her. Yet within him 
his heart chilled. So many things could happen in such a battle. He must seek 
ways to ensure her safety even though she fought.
He smiled up at her as she returned now, taking her hands to draw her down 
beside him.
Eleeri was able to draw them maps both accurate and detailed. Once those were 
completed, Jerrany called an armsman.
"Take these to Ternan, tell him to make copies. I want two and they must be 
exact. Our lives may all depend upon it." He glanced at Eleeri. "The man's too 
old to fight, but his father was a scribe and a copier. As a boy, Ternan learned 
well of him. Now he serves us thus and as a tutor to the children." He stood, 
moving restlessly about the room. "One set can go with the children. The other 
we will leave here in the muniments room as a record. I will also have Ternan 
write all that we plan."
He saw the glance they gave each other. "No, I am not a fool. It is true if we 
die, dark may come. But think of this also. We may fall but in falling take our 
enemy with us. The land may be cleansed for our children and those who come 
after. I would have them know by whose hand and whose deeds this was 
accomplished."
Eleeri nodded. To her it was natural. The Nemunuh had always sought to drag down 
the enemy who had slain them. To use one's final strength to slay in turn the 
slayer was right and proper. She also made a mental note to visit the great room 
below her own keep once more. She would look for a weapon she could hide. 
Something unsuspected and easily hidden. If the time came she must use it, there 
would be something available. She hid a shiver. Better to die by her own hand if 
she was left helpless than to fall to that which held the Dark Tower.
Of course, she added to herself, if the enemy was so stupid as to suppose her 
helpless, it might approach. Her lips drew back against strong white teeth. In 
which case, it would not be she who died at her hands. She returned to listening 
as Jerrany went over the maps. Twice he called in men to give orders. Once 
Mayrin pattered away to return with more of the scarce paper. Finally they 
retired. The groundwork of their plan was laid; it remained only to add flesh to 
the bones.
With firstsun they were risen again, her friends watching from the bridge 
runestones as Eleeri saddled her pony in the courtyard behind them. She mounted, 
trotting across the bridge to join them.
"I will be just a little while." She eyed those who gathered in the courtyard 
now. "Do not allow your people to act in haste. I swear to you these ones I 
bring are of the Light and will fight with us."
Jerrany looked up, his eyes searching her face. "Always you have been of the 
Light, passing our runes of ward and guard. I do not think you are easily 
deceived, either. We will draw back to the keep when you come. Let your friends 
pass the bridge and they will be welcomed with all good seeming."
She nodded, nudging the pony into a walk. Behind her Mayrin's hand slid out to 
take Jerrany's fingers in a hard grip. If these were true allies, Romar might 
yet be brought home. She strained her eyes as pony and rider diminished in the 
distance.
They waited. Then slowly something grew again before their eyes, resolving into 
one rider with a mount and four loose beasts who ran smoothly about them. 
Murmurs rolled up from those who watched; the sounds were doubtful but not yet 
hostile.
Taking Mayrin's hand in a strong grip, Jerrany drew her backward. Now they stood 
waiting within the shadow of the arch that led to the courtyard. The group 
neared the bridge and from the dust began to resolve into its component parts. 
There were gasps of awe as they realized Eleeri was astride a Keplian mare. The 
mare pranced, arching her powerful neck and curveting proudly.
On the woman's left a Keplian stallion paced, larger and finer than any could 
have believed. The pony trotted busily to her right. At her tail came a scarred 
mare and a younger stallion, only a colt yet already grown to rider size. At the 
runes they halted. Eleeri dropped casually from her mount to reach up toward the 
stone nearest her hand. The runes flared blue-green as she traced one of the 
signs. She stepped aside to allow the mare to approach in turn. A soft nose 
lifted to trace a sign, the light flamed higher. The stallion stretched out—with 
his touch the light became mist rising about the Keplian's hooves. The other two 
closed in to touch and the mist rose like a tidal wave to engulf them.
Then it cleared. Before the wondering gaze of the keep's inhabitants, all stood 
unharmed. Eleeri leaped to Tharna's back, her sword lashed free of the sheath. 
In the sunlight it flamed gold and silver; blue fire dripped from the edge to 
splash over Keplian shoulders.
"With friends, allies, kin to the Light, I come. Shall we enter in welcome?"
Hand in hand keep lord and lady moved forward. "Enter in welcome!" Jerrany's 
deep voice came.
Mayrin's lighter tones counterpointed his acceptance.
Hooves passed over the bridge. The Keplians stood staring about them as they 
reached the courtyard. From the center of his people Jerrany walked forward. His 
hands lifted; Mayrin stepped to his side. She, too, raised a guesting cup as in 
unison they spoke the words of acceptance and welcome.
Then for the first time in a thousand years they were truly answered by one of 
the race who fronted them. Tharna's head lifted.
*For the welcome of your gates, gratitude. To the lord and lady of this house, a 
fair day, good fortune, and a bright sun on the morrow.*
There was a long silent pause—then the cheering began.

14
Eleeri stood back to watch. The Keplians had understood the sound, she smiled to 
see their surprised pleasure. Then she drew Mayrin aside.
"You have a small amount of the gift. Is it enough for you to probe into the 
deeps of a mind?"
Her friend shook her head. "No, not with any but kin." She laughed then. 
"Although Jerrany and I do share thoughts sometimes usually at just the moment 
we shouldn't."
"Oh?"
Mayrin giggled. "It was at a dinner for the Lord Teme of the Valley of the Green 
Silences. He's a nice old man but very stuffy and pompous. It was kind of him to 
ride all the way out here and he only came to go over our fortifications for us. 
But he would keep on about the importance of having escape passages. We should 
have at least two, one known only to us. We were both sitting there trying to 
look interested and he just kept on and on. The next thing, I had this picture—" 
She broke off to snicker again while Eleeri waited patiently. "It came from 
Jerrany. It was of Lord Terne as a burrower, digging tunnels madly all 
underneath the keep until the whole thing fell in on him. Then this burrower 
with his face sat up in all the dust looking so surprised. I couldn't help it." 
She was laughing again, and visualizing it all. So was Eleeri.
"What did you do?"
"Muttered something about being needed urgently and ran. I got outside in the 
passage and just collapsed. Nurse came by and stood staring. That set me off all 
over again. It must have been almost half an hour before I could go back. Nurse 
said she hoped she was raising the children better. But when I told her, she was 
laughing, too."
By now so was Eleeri. She'd seen burrowers. Small stout animals who did indeed 
have an air of surprised pompousness about them. She giggled along with Mayrin 
until Jerrany turned to look.
"What are you two hatching?"
His wife grinned. "Nothing—yet. I was merely telling Eleeri about Lord Terne."
Jerrany grinned. "I remember that. I thought you were going to burst before you 
got out of the hall." Then he sobered. "Since these ones say they are our 
allies, let us make plans with them. The evil spreads and grows as it drains 
power where it finds it. If we are to act in time, it must be soon." He spoke 
not of Romar, but all knew what he meant. His heart ached for his friend Romar, 
who had always brought laughter and Light. Romar, who could not bear to be 
caged, and was now caged beyond his nightmares. Jerrany shivered.
"Let us make our plans quickly."
His wife nodded. Eleeri moved forward. "The plans have already been made. These 
Keplians are the friends I spoke of last night. They it is who will attack to 
draw off the attention of the enemy. No normal mount would approach the tower, 
therefore my kin-friends have consented to bear the three of us thither. But us 
alone. Let your men, those you can spare, ride on ordinary horses to fight 
beside the Keplians who distract the enemy."
"A reasonable plan, but will these two bear us willingly? I would hear it from 
them."
The scarred mare moved up to reach out with her nose, touching his hand. *I will 
carry you to fight evil. To strike the Dark I will bear you willingly.*
Shenn nuzzled at Mayrin's hair. *I, too. I will carry you.* He moved back in a 
half rear. *But we bear no human gear. You must ride us as we stand.*
"That seems fair." Eleeri said nothing of her thoughts: that he was yet too 
young to carry the weight of saddle and gear as well as that of even a light 
rider.
Eleeri faced her friends. "One thing I would say. Beware of seeking to force 
your minds into full rapport with these. Their minds are not as ours. I think it 
is that difference that has moved gifted humans to slay them before now." She 
gestured for silence when Jerrany would have spoken. "Yes, I share hearts with 
my friends. But from the beginning I never saw them as evil. The first time our 
minds touched, I was stunned, shocked, but then I opened my eyes and saw only 
those I loved before me. I no longer fear deep mind-touch. But your people have 
responded to it with such hatred that to my belief it is better you do not 
attempt it. Do you agree?"
"If you are certain of this," Jerrany said slowly, "then you are right and it is 
safer we do not try. But we can speak ordinarily?"
"Yes. Speak aloud, and Theela and Shenn will answer by mind as they have already 
done with you both."
He nodded. "Then let us check preparations." He called and one of the 
men-at-arms came running. There was a swift consultation before Jerrany turned 
back to the waiting women. Most of the orders had been completed. If they busied 
themselves before nightfall, they might be ready to ride by dawn. Eleeri grinned 
cheerfully. Not too fast. She would have to return to inform those of her canyon 
that the humans agreed to company them. Then she could ride with Tharna and 
Hylan to meet her friends at the stream ford.
For the next few hours the Keplians stood studying the bustling humans with deep 
interest. They had moved carefully to the side of the courtyard, half hidden in 
the shadows as the light began to fail. From a half door a girl emerged then, a 
child of perhaps seven or eight. Behind her came a boy bearing a sheaf of hay. A 
water bucket swung heavily from the girl's small hands. She bowed politely.
"Food and drink to the travelers, in the name of the Light."
Tharna stepped up, and drank gratefully. *Thank you.*
Shenn had reached for the hay and was happily chewing his mouthful. The small 
boy giggled and stroked the soft nose within reach.
"He's beautiful. Ask them what his name is."
*I am Shenn, human.*
"I am Kiren and she's Shevaun."
The young stallion meditated a moment as he chewed. *You are the lady's foals?* 
With that both received a brief picture of Mayrin.
They giggled. "Yes," the girl agreed. "But humans say children, not foals." She, 
too, stroked him gently. "You're so soft. Do all Keplians have such soft fur?"
Shenn preened slightly. Beside him Theela snickered, a mental sending received 
only by her kin. Shenn tipped a warning hoof at her. He was finding these humans 
more than he had dreamed. The four Keplians listened as the children prattled 
on. It amused them to find they were at once treated as friends and equals in 
the conversation. There was no fear smell, no distrust of those who were 
different. The mare peered down at the intently childish faces.
*How do you know we are good?*
The girl appeared surprised. "No one could pass the gate runes who was not."
*One who had great power might? A great Dark one?*
The child shook her head knowledgeably. "He might, if he was very, very strong, 
but the runes would still warn us. I heard Mother telling nurse about you. She 
said the runes answered to your touch, that they showed you to be of the Light."
Theela absorbed that. The human girl was ready to trust easily, yet who was to 
say she was altogether wrong? Let them see how far she would move along that 
path.
*Would you care to ride?*
There were instant squeals of acceptance. Both children scrambled onto the 
mounting block in the courtyard center. The mare paced alongside and small light 
bodies squirmed into place on her sleek hide. She carried them carefully around 
the cobbles as her kin watched in amusement. From the door came a heavy step as 
it opened to reveal an outraged nurse.
The storm broke over the children's heads. They should have been in bed; she had 
been hunting for them for too long. Already her bad leg was aching, and she had 
much to do yet before she could rest. Even the surprised Keplians came in for a 
scolding. They should have known better than to keep the children up so late, no 
matter how they brought up their own kind.
Still muttering, she swept the heirs away, but not before Shevaun had flung her 
arms about Theela's lowered neck.
"Thank you for the ride." She pattered off hastily after her brother as the mare 
stood motionless. So they were human foals. It was strange, and interesting, 
that the children had no fear of Keplians. They might have been taught to fear 
the abstract; but face-to-face with reality, they had trusted. Tharna had felt 
the first horrified recoil of her kin-sister as their minds had touched for the 
first time. That had changed with a second meeting and acceptance. She had 
watched and listened earlier as Eleeri warned the keep's lord and lady. It might 
be that those two could never do more than read the surface safely.
But—her eyes gazed at the door through which the children had vanished—it could 
be that with a younger generation who had not learned the fears to hold them 
back… She reached for the remainder of her hay. There was no hurry; she would 
think on this for a while.
It was far into the night before all Jerrany's preparations were done. Finally 
he returned to the solar where Mayrin and Eleeri waited. They, too, had been 
busy so that a pile of carefully chosen weaponry and items were stacked in one 
corner. A quick conversation brought all to a knowledge of what had been done by 
the others. Jerrany studied the marked candle. It was late. If they would ride 
early they must— His comments were interrupted by Eleeri. It would be she who 
left, but alone. Her friends should allow her time to reach the canyon, alert 
the decoy party, and ride back to the stream where she would meet them all.
"Bring the extra things you think to need on a couple of packhorses. They can be 
held to the rear of the battle with your own beasts as spare mounts should your 
men require them. Once the battle is joined, we ride hard for the tower. The 
Light go with us."
At the nods of agreement she strode for the door. She would sleep, then rise to 
eat well. Warriors never knew when they would eat next. She left with the 
Keplians amid a rising clamor of excitement within the keep. Hylan had insisted 
on his turn to bear her. He cantered lightly over the rough ground, reveling in 
the dual sensation as their minds linked.
Some echo of that pleasure reached the mare and young stallion who paced them. 
Theela mourned it. For her there might never be a rider who could be truly kin. 
Her head came up. Yet, there might be, once the tower was beaten.
They reached the canyon, passing the runes that flared as mares and foals 
crowded around. Eleeri dropped to the ground and began to explain the plan. One 
by one they understood, absorbed, considered, and agreed. They had long since 
decided who would fight, who would remain to care for the smaller foals. Now the 
mares who chose thrust forward. Eleeri counted. Almost twenty would hunt beside 
the humans. That was well. The Keplians had an ability to handle evil at closer 
quarters, where humans would faint from the stench of the Dark. She went quietly 
to her keep. There she took up a bundle of torches twisted from dried grass 
around a core of a slow-, strong-burning wood.
Her steps led now to the great underground room below the keep. At her command 
doors opened, shelves revealed their burdens. Once again she chose weapons, mail 
to take for Jerrany. Then she stood allowing her mind to fall blank. It was like 
the sleek surface of a lake; no ripple marred the surface of her mind as she 
stood motionless.
In the deeps of her mind something stirred, like the movement below the waters 
of a huge fish that does not break the surface. She allowed it to sink again and 
waited. It returned with a silvery leap and before she could lose it, she 
shouted aloud the word that came.
"Ceearan!"
Light blazed from points in the ancient stones. Behind her there came a slow 
soft grinding as one final door opened. She spun, her eyes seeking eagerly. 
Despair suddenly filled her. What was this? Nothing but— She peered more 
closely. It looked like old damp clay. Damp? Her mind queried; it must have been 
here since the original owners left. How could clay remain damp so long, even 
hidden within such a hiding place? She remembered the bespelled cupboards 
upstairs; this might be as they. But why would the owners hide clay in such 
secret? Her hands went out as her shaking fingers were drawn into the surface.
Blank-faced, hands moving in a blur, she did what was laid upon her. Then she 
bundled the results into a cloth. This must come with her, a geas laid, but she 
did not fight the command. She half understood the reason, and within the geas 
she had felt the touch of she who had once been keep's lady. She would trust her 
far-kin. Carrying the cloth and its contents, she tramped up the stairs again to 
eat and sleep.
By sunhigh she was far down the mountain trail. With her the Keplian mares 
paced, the obedient pony following with laden saddle. Eleeri was astride Tharna 
as the mare pranced smugly. Hylan trotted well ahead, scouting the track as they 
traveled.
They reached the lower hills without incident and Eleeri halted them to rest. 
They would wait the night out here; at dawn they could descend the final slopes 
to meet with her friends at the ford. Several times as they moved she had shot 
leapers disturbed by the passage of hooves. Now she paused to walk apart. Each 
time she had bled the beasts, and now she skinned and gutted them quickly. The 
entrails were buried, the bundle of skins hung high in a tree fork and covered 
with strong-scented leaves. If she returned safely, she would take them with 
her. Survival in this land required that nothing be wasted.
Swiftly she placed two of the small bodies on sharpened sticks over the fire 
that now crackled within a circle of stones. The remainder she jointed and 
placed in a pot half filled with water. To that she added such greens and herbs 
as she had. In the morning she would not wish to waste time cooking. But there 
would be no need; the stew would have simmered all night in preparation for her 
breakfast. She waited until the leapers were nicely roasted, then she ate, 
tearing the well-cooked meat from the bones with strong teeth.
In the center of the dozing group she laid out her bedroll and slipped within. 
Her dreams were vague but ominous. Far Traveler with grave eyes approached, his 
fingers gesturing warning signs. She saw Cynan and her mind focused, reaching 
out. He had been her friend for so short a time—but a friend all the same. What 
had befallen him with her going? Was he still alive? She was certain he was not. 
Did he, too, come to warn her? The figure faded into hills and she recognized 
the land about his Karsten hold. She seemed to follow as he made with faltering 
steps for the small graveyard that held his line.
She saw him reach out to where the flowering bush blazed in glory. The blossoms 
lit the sunlight to a greater beauty and his lips shaped her name. A small wind 
blew through the bush and bright blossoms fell to lie sprinkled upon the gray 
stone. There was a sense of peace, of a long journey accomplished at last. She 
did not weep then; it would not have felt right to mourn him. He had chosen his 
own time and trail. In the end he had remembered her. She would remember him. 
She slipped into a deeper sleep without dreams and woke refreshed. As she ate, 
she conversed with the four Keplians who were closest to her now.
The breeze blew warm; the sun already betrayed heat to come. She vaulted to 
Hylan's warm back and the group trotted down the trail to where the rapids 
foamed and bubbled. Above them the water purled at the ford. Behind a clump of 
trees they waited until sounds spoke of their allies' arrival. Eleeri waved, to 
be joined by her friends then.
"Let's not waste time. My men all know what we planned. They have agreed to 
fight beside the Keplians."
Eleeri nodded, sending the message to those who waited. Hooves thumped as they 
swung to the ford. Human riders moved out to join them, those last in line now 
leading the three ponies hold and canyon had discarded. Eleeri turned back, 
opening the heavy bundle she had removed from her beast.
"Jerrany, I found this in my keep. It is twin to the one I gave Mayrin. I ask 
that you wear it. The one who once owned it battled the tower in his time. It 
would have pleased him to know he has some part in this." Under her hands the 
chain shirt fell free, gleaming in the sunlight. There was a subtle shimmer to 
the metal links, a shifting of colors like oil on water.
Jerrany reached out and donned it wordlessly. He had owned no more than the 
usual metal rings sewn to leather. But this… this was a great gift. How many of 
these did Eleeri have? he wondered silently. He knew of three now. Were there 
more yet? But he would not ask. It was enough that they all wore one, and Mayrin 
was safer so. That was all that was his proper concern. He glanced down, to see 
that their friend was not quite done.
From the same bundle she now drew daggers. The blades gleamed in the sun, a soft 
silver glow so that he sucked in his breath sharply.
"Silver?"
She smiled. "Silver and some way of tempering that makes them steel-keen. Wear 
them. They are doubly dangerous to the Dark."
He removed his own dagger to replace it with one of the proffered weapons. 
Mayrin followed suit. His leather ring-sewn shirt he hung on a branch, the 
daggers hooked into its belt. Then he turned to the waiting Keplian. He bowed 
and stepped forward. Theela stood as he jumped for her strong back, then as his 
legs curled about her, she curveted a little, testing his seat. He laughed, 
stroking the proud black neck.
"I know, I am here only so long as you will it. I'll remember." He watched as 
his wife mounted, the young stallion bending his haunches to sit so she could 
mount, heavy in her mail.
Eleeri swung onto Hylan, sending him pacing slowly into the rushing stream. In 
the breast of her mail the thing she had been driven to make lumped 
uncomfortably. She eased it with a surreptitious hand. They left the stream and 
ford behind as they struck out in a direct line for the tower. Soon the decoy 
party would reach the rasti to begin their attack.. The attention of the tower 
would be drawn away. They must make the best time they could without being 
noticeable until then. Into a growing heat they moved, hearts high.
Far to the northwest ten men-at-arms traveled with eighteen Keplian mares. One 
of their number was a mere boy who led the three spare mounts. The others were 
seasoned fighters, but their eyes were nervous as well as alert. Even the 
blue-eyed Keplian leader failed to completely convince them that their 
companions were of the Light.
Pehnane was silent. Humans believed as they wished. So long as these fought, he 
cared not what they thought. He had joined the party just before the humans rode 
up. It was for him to lead this group to the rasti. Then he would leave to be 
with the far-daughter. He trotted slowly on toward the territory of the rasti 
pack. Soon he would be with those he loved.
Now burrows were appearing where the females laired to give birth. The boy's 
pony was sidling and stepping higher, nostrils flared. One hind leg slipped into 
the mouth of a burrow and the pony squealed as it staggered. Unprepared, the boy 
slid over the heaving shoulder to land flat on his back. Two mares whirled as 
with a chittering two female rasti hurtled forth to attack. Their teeth were at 
the boy's throat as he scrabbled to regain his footing in the rough soil. Before 
the rasti could sink teeth into the soft flesh, the Keplian mares arrived. 
Flat-eared heads snaked out to seize, to crush as the rasti were flung backward. 
Hooves stamped the life from them, satisfaction reaching all who watched.
At the head of the column, a warrior relaxed. These might be odd allies, but 
allies they were nonetheless. The boy lurched to his feet. Clumsily he bowed low 
to the mares before remounting his sweating pony. Honor where honor was due—he 
owed them a debt. The group moved on in better heart, the tenuous beginnings of 
battle-trust established. Soon they were close to the main burrows where the 
soil was turned.
In the tower, that which dwelled was enraged. Had he not given orders that 
strength was not to be futilely wasted? He would punish these fools in such a 
way they would never forget. He drew on his captive to drive home his wrath on 
the defiant ones. His attention focused powerfully northward, where in a running 
battle the Light gave good account of itself.
Both humans and Keplians had followed a suggestion of the war-wise oldest 
man-at-arms. Now they ducked often into the running water where the rasti could 
not follow. From there they could emerge to strike again and again. Many showed 
wounds, but none as yet had fallen. The enraged tower concentrated in an effort 
to discover the enemy. All its attention flowed outward to the north.
Then to the base of the tower came seven to be joined by a great stallion. His 
eyes glowed an incandescent blue as he reared to a halt. Into their minds came a 
cry like a trumpet blast.
*Now, now is the time!* His form shrunk and twisted. Eleeri dropped to the 
ground to seize her pendant. With that clutched in her hand, she approached the 
tower's base. Lifting the pendant, she ran a tiny hoof lightly around a block of 
stone, murmuring a word. A faint gleam followed the path of her pendant. The 
stone creaked, groaned, and slowly slid aside. Before them was a wide smooth 
path leading into darkness. She turned to the Keplians.
"Hold the gate for us until we return or you know our deaths."
She reached up to hug each of them lovingly, then with squared shoulders she led 
the way through the arch. Mayrin and Jerrany followed. Their footsteps faded 
into silence as the Keplians took up guard. They would wait.

15
On the riverbanks the fight raged. Trust was by now established. Too many 
incidents had occurred for the humans to doubt their allies further. Time and 
again a Keplian mare dragged a rasti from a dismounted man's throat, to be 
repaid with a spear thrust to the rasti hanging onto her sleek hide, its teeth 
relaxing only in death. The archers took toll from their position on the rise. 
Then, the last of the arrows fired, they joined the battle, spears stabbing 
viciously downward. They had been less than thirty against more than two 
hundred. But intelligent use of the ground had aided them strongly. As had 
another fact that their leaders had taken into account.
Many times their swift retreats into the running water had saved them from a 
massed assault. The rasti were not intelligent. They were hunger, filled with 
blood rage, without tactics. They fought to overwhelm by sheer ferocity and 
numbers. They were now hampered by the blind anger and arrogance of the tower, 
which was demanding they cease their fight.
The mind there had not realized that the rasti fronted its own enemies. Rather 
it believed that the Gray Ones feuded once more. It drove power against the 
rasti, slowing them as they attacked. Mad with blood and battle rage, they 
ignored the orders hurled at them. But the power slowed them even as it took all 
the tower's attention from its own place.
Down a tunnel deep within massive ancient walls, three humans hurried. Torches 
flamed in their hands; they would save any power they had until it must be used. 
Within Eleeri's mind hung a bloodless face, strained beyond humanity. Eyes 
implored her to hurry, and hasten she did, trotting as swiftly as she could 
along the slime-covered stones. In line behind her ran Mayrin and Jerrany, 
daggers drawn. Finally they halted at the sight of what lay ahead.
"Are we traveling in circles?" Jerrany was bewildered. From the outside the 
tower was large, but not so big as all this. They'd been following the tunnel 
for almost half an hour in an apparently straight line. Now before them was a 
huge cave. Above them the roof arched out of sight. The worn path led down into 
its depths while at the edge runes showed faintly on the inset flagstones.
"Romar showed me the path. He was certain it led to our goal," Eleeri said 
quietly. "He thought it would be safe for us, since the tower is afraid of this 
place. Perhaps we have allies here?"
Something tugged at her throat and she slipped the pendant from its cord. 
Placing Pehnane on the ground, she stepped back, waving her friends to silence. 
Mist flickered out from the water-glistening walls to surround the pendant. It 
cleared and in front of them the great stallion struck the stones with a hoof.
*Follow*
They fell into line again and trod warily down into the cavern. As they 
traveled, all noticed that the runes on which they trod brightened with each 
footfall. The light seemed to spill over into tiny glittering motes which 
whirled up, clinging to the higher walls. Eleeri was sure these were forming 
other runes in turn. She felt as though she were shrinking as she walked. As if 
the cavern grew in size until they were insects who crawled along an endless 
pathway to some strange future, which insects would not understand. But ahead 
paced their guide, and they followed trustingly.
Without warning the motes of light coalesced before them, outlining a gray stone 
pillar. Nervously Eleeri halted. Were they required to do something here? She 
looked to the stallion, who stood motionless before the pillar. He gave no sign, 
so she waited patiently, eyes fixed on the specks as they crawled over the 
surface. She blinked. From their movement a figure was appearing—or was it a 
trick? At her shoulder, Mayrin drew in breath.
Eleeri turned. "What is it?"
"Long ago when I was a child, we visited Duhaun and she told me a tale of a 
Great One who had lived far to the other side of this land. He wasn't a bad man, 
just careless. He hated the warring and in the end he withdrew after some 
attempt of his went wrong and hurt those he'd loved."
Eleeri's mind leaped ahead. "Would he have known those of my far-kin, I wonder? 
Could they be passage for us?"
"I don't know. But Duhaun showed me an old limning. It had his own runes along 
the lower edge." She peered at the pillar. "I thought that they looked just like 
this." She pointed.
"What was his name?"
Silent, Mayrin crouched to write it in the dust that drifted now in a thin film 
on the stones. Eleeri understood. She had long since learned the power of a 
spoken word in this land. She drew it into her, spoke it in her mind several 
times over until she was sure of it. Then she straightened and approached the 
pillar. The light had settled so that she could see there were runes indeed. The 
last of them was the name. This she traced gently with her finger, then she 
sucked in a breath.
She spoke it. Light came then in a rush like lightning. Power roared and it 
seemed as if some presence opened drowsy eyes to study them. She stood firm, 
allowing it to see, to know who they were and what they did in this place. It 
was gone, but in turn she saw Mayrin stagger, then Jerrany as it searched out 
truth. It withdrew as quickly as it had come.
At their feet runes brightened one by one, showing a path. There was a sense 
that while they were not unwelcome, their absence was to be preferred. But to 
Eleeri there was yet one thing to do.
She stepped forward, speaking conversationally as if to a friend. "You did not 
ask, but I am far-daughter to those you might have known." Into her mind she 
brought the faces of those who had once held the canyon. She felt the sudden 
surge of power, of interest. Carefully she allowed her mind to picture all that 
had happened on the day the mists had permitted her entrance. She shared her 
grief that she had not known more of them, had kin for less time than her heart 
had asked.
Now the power was alive, seeking to know her whole story. It winnowed swiftly, 
seeing her arrival into this world, her meeting with Tharna and Hylan. Then it 
returned to watch and listen again as her kin acknowledged her as far-daughter 
and heir to their place. It sifted through her dreams of Romar and she could 
feel a dim anger that evil dwelled above its resting place.
As Romar had said, sharing is a two-way road. In turn she knew that there was 
little here of the person who had long since gone. Most of the power had drained 
away. The man this had once been had moved on seeking another home, but still 
some remnant had remained in the place he had loved. The man could not return, 
but his power had been very great. He could yet be a giver of gifts.
Her head shook slowly. "We ask nothing save passage and no ill-wishing."
Amusement at her pride. Then a memory. Her far-mother had been kin to him. Let 
the daughter of his line take up her right. Light motes rose to fall gently 
across her, weaving themselves into a covering that wholly embraced her before 
fading. Into her mind came words. She listened, agreed. If this one was truly of 
her blood, then kin-right was laid upon her. She raised her dagger and watched 
as the light motes sank into it. Her head turned.
"Jerrany, Mayrin, unsheath your weapons."
In turn they, too, saw the glittering points of light drift out to cover first 
them, then the upraised daggers.
Eleeri faced the pillar, now bowing but as befitted a warrior. "Sleep well, 
far-kin of my far-mother. What I can do, I will." She lowered her dagger until 
it pointed at the stone. "Earth, Mother. You heard my promise." The dagger 
lifted to point upward. "Sun, Father. You heard my words. Let me die within a 
season if I lie." Her hand came up in a brief warrior salute before she turned, 
leading the way forward.
Behind her there was a gentle sliding sound as the pillar crumbled to dust. The 
runes still held light, but the three humans and Keplian must hurry, already it 
began to fade.
They trotted swiftly. Where the stones allowed it, they ran, dropping back to a 
trot when the path roughened again. Neither of her friends asked what that last 
speech had been about. It was none of their business, and power was an ill thing 
to offend. The stallion had made no sound and now he merely paced before them. 
Eleeri grinned to herself. They were a motley group, in truth, but maybe their 
very diversity would help to confuse their enemy.
Now of a sudden their road sloped upward. They passed through an arch and halted 
abruptly. All turned to look. At their very heels a rough rock wall faced their 
gaze.
"Well." Jerrany ran fingertips across the harsh surface. "I gather we won't be 
coming back this way. There's even a different feeling in the air."
Mayrin nodded. "This is no longer the place of our friend's far-kin. This is the 
enemy's home and our battleground. Let us go forward, for now there is no 
retreat even did we desire it." Her face hardened. "And that I do not. Romar is 
ahead. He shall be freed or I shall die in the doing of it." Her eyes met those 
of her husband.
He nodded grimly. "Your brother, my friend and sword-brother, neither of us 
turns back now. But what of you?" His gaze touched Eleeri.
She sought for words to make them understand. Then— "I am geas-ordered and bound 
by my own oath. Better I die in battle than betray either."
Before they could ask further, she strode forward. Shod in soft calf-high 
moccasins, her feet were soundless on the smooth floor. Her friends followed, 
and none of them thought it strange that the stallion ahead made no sound as his 
hooves met the hard marble. He seemed rather to glide, nose seeking toward the 
walls. Then he signaled.
"A door?" Jerrany moved up to look. "Yes." He thrust gently with no result. 
Studying it, he hooked ringers into a carved rose and pulled back. The door 
swung open, allowing them a glimpse of a roiling mist that began at once to 
creep toward them. With a shiver he allowed the door to swing closed again.
"Not that one, I think. Spread out. Look for others."
They obeyed, something in the feel of the long corridor making them keep 
silence. Twice more they opened doors which showed them nothing they sought. One 
opened into a vast waste of scrub, sand, and hard-packed pebbles. The air was 
dry and ~heat smote them savagely. The other opened into snow, whirling in great 
flakes above a black and bitter sky.
Eleeri had been walking, running her fingertips along the wall. Under them a 
break caught her attention. She moved in, eye intent. A prancing Keplian was 
carved deep into the door's surface. She beckoned Pehnane. He looked at it. 
Something in his eyes was sad as his nose touched the nose of the carven beast. 
The door swung open.
They gazed in. Mayrin would have cried out then and run forward but for 
Jerrany's grip.
"Be still, beloved. Bait a trap with what the prey desires most. Better we look 
this over well before we walk into a spider's den."
He tugged her backward, a jerk of his chin sending Eleeri to the doorway to look 
within. She studied the figure that lolled in the chair. To her eyes it was 
Romar, but—she peered closer. This Romar looked a little too well fed, too well 
cared for. His clothes were of good quality, his hands soft. She nodded at that. 
Soft, yes, but not the softness of one who had done no work with them these last 
months. They were the softness of one for whom they had never been bruised on 
labor. The wrists were not the strong-tendoned sinewy strength of a horseman, 
but lay weak and limp in the figure's lap. Softly she pointed this out to Mayrin 
as the woman strained against her mate's grip.
"It is not Romar."
"Then who?"
Jerrany guessed, "A fetch, a made thing to lure us in."
His wife shook her head. "Perhaps not. I have heard of images made without 
features. Look you at the way it is dressed. That could be the clothing of 
either sex."
Eleeri raised her gaze and began to concentrate as she ordered, "Turn your eyes 
away, quickly. Do not look until I say."
She called Cynan to memory. He was gone, his spirit in the lands he sought. She 
could do it no harm, but his memory might now aid them. Slowly she drew from her 
mind the memories. Cynan as he sat cross-legged teaching her the languages of 
this new world. Cynan as he groomed one of the ponies, big hands gentle on the 
rough hide. Cynan as she had seen him last in life. His arm upraised in 
farewell, his body clad in her gifts. Into that last she allowed her grief to 
flow. Then she stepped to front the open door. Before her on the seat Cynan 
lifted his head to beckon her in.
She turned away. This thing was a mockery of her old friend. She longed to 
destroy it, but her duty as a warrior was to her friends. She would have 
explained, but they had guessed.
"It wears now the face of the one you called?"
"It does."
"Then the question is, do we attempt to destroy it or pass by?" Jerrany queried 
softly.
"Pass by. I think it is only bait; it has no power of its own. If we are not 
called by it, it will wait for others to come," Mayrin answered. "The true 
question is, does it have some way of telling its maker that a trap has failed? 
If so, it is best we hurry." Wordlessly Pehnane moved on. They followed in haste 
and silence.
The corridor wound on without windows, but Jerrany was sure it rose a little 
with each circle. A feeling of apprehension began to possess him. About him as 
he walked, the walls glowed. At first the light was unnoticed; then it 
brightened. Eleeri gave a small cry as Pehnane faded. She ran forward to pick up 
the pendant.
"Why? Why would he leave us now?"
Jerrany turned, searching for a reason. "The walls," he said quietly, "look at 
the walls."
Fire crawled up the ancient stones. It smoked, leaving filthy black trails 
behind the dull crimson glow. He advanced a hand cautiously. "That's power, not 
real fire; there's no heat." He glanced ahead, then back at the pendant in her 
hand. "Maybe he can't pass this as he was. You can carry him past as a pendant, 
though."
"Maybe." Eleeri was worried. "But I don't like the look of it."
Mayrin stirred. "Nor I, but we have only two choices. Go back or go on. I will 
not leave here without Romar."
Eleeri shrugged. "We go on, then, and the Light be with us." She marched 
forward, followed by Jerrany, Mayrin in the rear, daggers at the ready. They 
padded slowly along as the fire grew about them. The blackness spread rapidly 
until the whole of the way through which they now walked was black laced with 
the fire trails that formed runes on which they did not wish to look. From the 
floor a mist began to rise. It, too, was black, shot with the lacing of dull 
crimson that was now all that gave light. Eleeri drew her dagger and dropped the 
pendant into the empty sheath. She was drawn. Now that she thought about it, she 
had had the feeling for several minutes. Ahead lay the caller, Romar or another.
She reached out with her mind as she had learned to do with the Keplians. The 
calling seemed to strengthen, but she could not be sure. She allowed his face to 
rise in her memory. Then, walking slowly, she brought up the image of her 
dagger. This she touched to the face. The power flowed in with a rush.
She caught a warning. There was danger ahead, but here in the tower time was not 
as it was outside. If they moved forward steadily, did not falter, there was yet 
a chance they would be in time. Romar's strength was draining; that which 
dwelled here drew hard on him in its efforts to halt the battle far to the 
north. It would take much to turn its attention back now. Many of the tower's 
defenses were automatic. If they could pass them, they might come to its core 
unnoticed.
The sending faded, but not before Eleeri had read the weary disgust at his being 
so used. She clenched her hands. Better dead than enslaved to the greater Dark. 
If all else failed, she would pray to Ka-dih she could give a clean death as her 
only gift.
She turned to speak to her friends. Behind her the mist curled and shifted. 
There was no sign of them. She cursed savagely.
She'd allowed herself to be distracted. Could she have taken a turning they had 
not? Or had something crawled out of the walls and dragged them in? In a place 
like this, you couldn't be sure. She would have walked back, but something told 
her then it would be a mistake. Maybe that was the idea, get her tearing back 
along the way they'd come so she would forget why they were here. She set her 
teeth. She'd made a promise. She'd go on, alone if need be, and pray her friends 
found her again. She gripped her dagger and marched on, face toward the faint 
thread that called her.
The mist deepened, darkened, as out of it figures came. For a moment her steps 
faltered, then sturdy common sense came to her aid. These were dead or in 
another world. They could not be here. They were scarecrows raised to turn her 
back. She would not be so turned. Ahead of her Cynan bent a bitter smile upon 
her face.
"I loved you as a daughter. I trusted you and you left me to die alone." The 
accusation stung. She had thought long and hard before she had left the Karsten 
hold. Had she gone to be free of him? Her head came up. No! Her reasons had held 
then as they held now. Cynan himself had agreed, sent her on her way with 
goodwill.
She faced the figure now. "I grieve that I left you. I grieve that you died 
alone. But I bear no burden for my choosing. It was yours also."
"Because I saw I could not turn you aside."
She shook her head. "Because you loved me. Love shuts no doors, holds not the 
loved one captive. I have not called you here. Go now with my love and 
good-wishing." She walked resolutely forward as tears ran down her cheeks. The 
figure faded back into the mist and was gone. Another formed ahead. She flinched 
as the mean eyes fixed on her: her uncle. Mist formed a second figure to stand 
by him: her aunt. Cynan she had loved, therefore she had spoken gently to his 
image. These she had hated.
She walked forward, giving no way to them. They must let her pass or halt her as 
they could. She met them breast to breast as chill crept through her. Their 
hands gripped her wrists. Long-remembered insults hissed into unwilling ears. 
They despised her.
But she was no longer a child. This was a trick, an evil that sought to turn her 
from the proper path. She would not be driven back by these tatters of an 
outworn pain. She willed their fingers to loosen. Her dagger lifted to lie as a 
bar between them.
"I owe you nothing," she said quietly. "As you gave nothing, so I owe nothing. I 
did not call you; I do not hold you here now. Be free of me as I am free of 
you."
She knew then that it was true. They had feared her strength, hated her for the 
spirit that did not break. She had been the stronger all along. An unwilling 
pity rose as she met their gaze. They thinned and were gone as her emotion made 
itself known. Against fear or hatred they could stand; against pity they had no 
shield.
Then came the figure she had expected. Far Traveler with the eagle feathers in 
his braids. Before her he twisted into horror. Rotting flesh on brown bone. 
Breath stank from exposed teeth as his voice slid into her ears. Behind him came 
another: the pinched face of the social services woman. It was her voice that 
overrode.
"Now I've found you, you'll have to come with me, girl. The law says you can't 
live alone so young."
Eleeri hit back with an angry retort. The power below had given warning. 
Emotions could be both a weapon and a danger. She reached for calmness.
"I've lived here for years now. I am not a child anymore. The law has no claim 
on me and you have no power here." She felt the old fear as the figure seized 
her arm. "The law is against you," she repeated. "You have no law to back you in 
this. You stand alone."
The figure hunched its shoulders nervously. It looked at her in disbelief. 
Eleeri gathered herself and flung her words at it.
"You walk in the paths of legality. Would you act against it now?"
The figure shrank back. With a look of puzzled anger, it shook its head. She was 
a social worker; the law was her work.
"Then leave, or you shall face the law itself that you break." It seemed to 
shiver, falling in until there was no more than another coil of mist.
Eleeri faced her last challenge as her hands went out to take those of her 
kinsman. Tears flooded down her face as she embraced him. She ignored the 
stench, the appearance; this was her protector, her teacher, her blood. She 
listened as he began to speak.
"Eleeri, Eleeri I named you, and strange are the paths you have chosen to walk. 
But there is no need for further struggle. Come with me and rest. Be my 
daughter's daughter once more."
"I follow a word given."
"Given to one who had no right to bind you. Come with me." The voice was full of 
tenderness.
"I gave the word. Shall I break my warrior oath? Is that of your teaching?"
With his arm laid about her shoulders, she looked up into the beloved face 
restored. Longing was in his tone then. "I miss you, child of my heart. Would 
you leave me to walk the spirit world forever without you? Leave these who are 
no true kin to you and come."
Almost might the spell have worked, so greatly had she loved him. But for that 
final sentence. Gently she freed herself, drew away from those loving arms.
"Kin of mine they are, and it is for me to aid. I gave warrior oath to one who 
trusted me. My friends are here.
Am I to leave them to fight alone? Nor will I leave one of my blood to die."
"You stand alone. Your friends have fled." His face moved in anger. "You were 
always a stubborn fool." Now he showed fear for her. "Do not walk this road. 
Come with me and be safe."
She eased her shoulders as if resuming a great load. She wept, but walked 
steadily forward. "I cannot. You yourself taught me that an oath may not be 
broken, that blood stands by blood, that even if friends betray you, yet shall 
you hold by the word given."
"I may not come to you again if you do this."
She dashed away the tears. "You have not done so now. You are the memory I have, 
but not the man I loved." She stood facing him and from her mind she banished 
his figure, letting him go as he had once released her. Mist billowed and was 
gone. Before her the passage stretched out wide and long with marble walls that 
showed no signs of the power. Under her moccasins the floor was stone paving.
She heard steps behind her and she spun to see her friends approaching. Both 
were pale, but their eyes were determined. As they came up each reached out to 
take a hand. For long seconds they stood there savoring friendship. They had 
been tested and not failed.
"I saw those I loved and feared," Jerrany said quietly. "I was offered choices."
"As was I," Eleeri confirmed. "But still we stand here."
Mayrin sighed. "I was offered some wonderful things, but nothing that included 
Romar. And I had to lose too many I love to accept."
Eleeri freed her hands, smiling at the two. "It seems we have all made choices. 
Let us move on to find out what comes to us from them."
Side by side in the wide corridor, they marched forward. Eleeri knew what she 
had defeated, but as they walked, she wondered what her friends had faced. What 
had been the "wonderful choices" Mayrin had been offered? She stole a look at 
her, then at Jerrany on her other side. What had the Dark offered him to betray 
them all? That her friends were here showed they had turned away. But curiosity 
rode her as they walked. She grinned and thrust it away. It was none of her 
business and there was more to worry about than temptations refused.
Beside her, Mayrin also wondered. Into her mind seeped the memories of that time 
lost in the mist. One minute Jerrany had walked beside her, the next he was 
gone. She would have run shrieking his name but that she feared to call 
attention to herself. She had gripped her dagger and prayed to all those of the 
Light. Then the visions had begun.
Jerrany also remembered—and shivered in rage. They had threatened, but he had 
stood firm. But oh, gods, it had been a near thing. One more moment and he might 
have given up. He tightened his hold on Mayrin's hand.

16
Beside the river the fight roiled back and forth. The mud was tinged with red 
where the combatants had fallen. Of the ten men-at-arms, only six now lived to 
fight on. Being swifter, the mares had usually managed to fight free and move 
back when they were too badly hurt to remain. Of the original eighteen, only 
half swirled and struck with their human allies. One lay dead with rasti tearing 
at the bones; the others had fallen away from the battle to reel in the 
direction of their canyon. Had those who fought on not been too busy to notice, 
they would have seen that the eyes of all the mares were now the sapphire blue 
of a creature of Light.
In his clear, carrying voice the master-at-arms shouted an order. The mares 
obeyed, closing into a circle that faced outward. The men-at-arms were spaced 
around the group, spears striking out and down as rasti sought to break the 
defense that bristled at them.
The tower tore at rasti minds to no avail. The scent of their dead, the stench 
of blood, had the plains hunters in a frenzy in which the urge to kill and feast 
predominated. The constant contact with beast minds had gripped the tower also. 
He would have them obey him. It was all that filled him as he speared into their 
minds again and again, demanding, ordering them to break off the fight.
He drew on his slave until even in the fury that possessed him he knew that the 
man was faltering. Yet he would not cease to use the fool. Let the lesser serve 
the greater. There were others to be had once he had time to turn his mind to 
them. The two he had seen in that one's heart, for instance. They had more 
strength than they knew. They would do very well, once this was done.
He attacked his servants anew, striving to force their obedience. His slave, 
however, had more strength left than he knew. With delicacy, Romar had 
successfully kept his master from turning to attack the Gray Ones he believed to 
be the other portion of the fight.
Romar had been able to detach just sufficient strength to open the ancient door 
his master feared. Within the depths of his mind he yet hoarded himself, his 
unconquered spirit and the last scraps of power. Help was coming, he knew, and 
had successfully kept that from his master also. He could feel the touch of the 
Light as his rescuers neared him. At first he had recognized his twin and fought 
down terror. Lords of Light, let her not fall into the hands of this one! And 
what if she fell to the traps along the way? He had not enough of his gift left 
to reach out against those. His rescuers must fight as they could to reach him.
But a tiny flame of hope was beginning to burn. Little by little he had sensed 
that they were moving steadily toward him. Now and then he had felt the echoes 
of some struggle. But always they had moved on again. As they neared him, he 
could distinguish the spirits of the other two. His sword-brother, ah, gods, who 
else but Jerrany?
The other spirit, too, was known to him; had he not dreamed her down the long 
bitter months of captivity? He had seen her in his visions; now he recalled her 
to mind. She looked almost like one of his race to the eye, but the spirit that 
burned in her was different, born of another place. Not evil, just different. 
She was of the Light, that he knew in his innermost heart. He called up her 
face: his eyes caressed the strong planes, the storm gray of the eyes, the black 
spider silk of the hair that lifted around her shoulders.
There was a fierce pride and determination in those lines. The mouth was gentle, 
a mouth to kiss, to love, but below it a determined chin jutted. He smiled 
tenderly to himself. Such a chin betokened a stubbornness that would carry her 
onward in the face of any who might strive to halt her. Was this a 
characteristic of those who found the gates to his world? Others had come now 
and then; always they had been of a fierce spirit. Perhaps it was the spirit the 
gates recognized. He did not know. But the more he had seen of this one, the 
more his own spirit had yearned for her. In the old race desire wakes late, but 
at first sight of this lady it had woken truly.
Not desire of body alone, but heart's desire. He would walk with her. Learn her 
thoughts, her fears and delights. Wed her in honor to love all the days of his 
life—which might not be very long indeed, his mind added bitterly. He could feel 
the weakness stealing over him.
Still in the core of all that made him human he nursed the vision. His friend 
and his sister were coming for him, and that other. What she might be to him he 
knew not, but she, too, fought her way toward him to buy his freedom at the 
point of a sword. He drew in, hoarding his dying strength.
Eleeri paced slowly along the passage, flanked by her friends. It appeared to 
stretch on forever. Mayrin halted to ease her sword belt.
"Do we go around in circles in this cursed place? Surely the tower we entered 
was not so large?"
Jerrany shook his head. "What is within may be greater than what is without; the 
power has always said this. The tower merely manifests that truth." He stared 
down the passage before them. "But I do wonder, could it be that we are being 
led in circles deliberately? Does illusion trick us here?" He reached over to 
touch Eleeri's cheek. "You marked your face before we entered. Do you still have 
some of that which you used?"
Her fingers flicked to her belt pouch to reappear with a nubbin of the red chalk 
that crumbled in cliffside streaks near the canyon. Silently she handed it to 
him, standing aside to watch with Mayrin as he moved forward. Carefully Jerrany 
drew a straight line down the center of their road. He paced on, then drew 
another, a break, then a third. But by now the two behind him could see.
Mayrin hissed softly and waved him back. He came running lightly.
"What is it?"
"The passage curves. It appears straight to our eyes when we stand together, but 
when you are well ahead, you are moving out of sight around a curve in the 
walls."
"Sa/" His voice was quiet, but there was the triumph of a striking hawk in the 
hiss. "If illusion holds us, what else have we overlooked? It is a trick to lead 
us away from he whom we seek, but have we already passed him or does he yet lie 
ahead?"
Eleeri's fingers went to the pendant in her dagger sheath. She lifted it free. 
"Maybe Pehnane can show us the way." But try as she might, there was no answer 
from the tiny figure.
"Maybe he must wait until we come to the heart of the tower," Jerrany commented. 
"We are all bound to the one we seek in some way. Let us link and think on him, 
build him in our minds as we know him in life."
Eleeri was unsure of the wisdom of that. "Could the use of power alert the 
enemy? This is the heart of his place."
"Perhaps, but what does it profit us to be unnoticed if we cannot also find?"
Mayrin reached out to lay a hand on each arm. "Listen, the enemy uses the Dark 
and power. What if…"
They listened, agreement growing as she spoke. Now it was she who stood forward, 
her hands reaching into her hair to bring forth an ornament. Eleeri studied it 
as her friend held it up and they clasped hands about it. It had been carved 
from a pale wood and from it came a faint sweet perfume—one natural to the wood 
itself, she judged. It was in the shape of a lizard, one whose skull seemed 
larger than those she had known. The eyes were tiny inset chips of some gold 
stone, and the tail curled under to hold a lock of hair.
"It was carved for my eighteenth nameday," Mayrin said. In this place she would 
not name the carver—names had too much power—but Eleeri nodded. Mayrin reached 
out to bring Jerrany's hands in, upon the carving.
"Think on him. Build him in your minds. Set seeking upon this gift, that it hunt 
him out wherever he may be hidden from us."
Obediently they bent to the task she laid. This was not true power, but a 
sympathetic magic such as Eleeri was familiar with. So had her own people once 
hunted. This she could do. She raised the memory of the man she had seen, limned 
his face in life's colors, sparked spirit in the deep-set eyes. She willed the 
eyes to meet hers, strained to reach out.
Beside her she was dimly conscious of the effort her friends made. Sweat beaded 
along her forehead as she strove. It felt as if she were forced back and away 
from the face she had built. She resisted savagely. She was losing all sense of 
time or place. It was as if she floated, suspended. Then there came a draining. 
Dimly she saw that the tiny motes of light that had cloaked her were leaving. 
They flowed down her arms into the lizard and it turned golden eyes on her. She 
staggered back weakly as Mayrin released the tiny creature.
It scurried back the way they had come as they turned hastily to follow.
"Concentrate on it. Keep his face in your minds," Mayrin hissed softly.
They loped along, each carrying their dagger in readiness as the lizard sped 
down the halls. Jerrany halted abruptly.
"This isn't the passage we traveled," he said, his voice certain. "Look." His 
hand indicated a bright mural. Their eyes veered away from the scene in disgust. 
"Yes, it's ugly, but which of you has seen it before?"
He watched as both shook their heads. They turned to stare back the way they had 
come. There was no sign of an archway, no doors or turnings.
"More illusion?" Eleeri queried.
Jerrany glanced at her. "No, I think what we have now is reality. It was 
illusion we followed before." A chirp from the lizard reminded them. "Best we 
follow our guide and discuss the nature of illusion later." He trotted after the 
lizard as it scuttled away again. The women moved up to flank him as they ran. 
The return journey seemed endless as they wearied, but now they were certain 
they had never seen these halls or passages before. The guide was slowing as 
they trotted along. Now they fell back to a swift walk and still it slowed.
"What's wrong with it?" Eleeri whispered.
"Power only lasts so long. None of us is a Great One or even so very strong in 
the gift," Mayrin muttered quietly as they marched after the slowing carving.
"Could we do what we did again?"
Her friend shrugged. "I don't know. If we can't find what we seek before the 
power fades, we'll have to try."
They fell silent, concerned eyes on the small guide. The lizard was almost at a 
standstill, yet it dragged itself along valiantly. Only the smooth marble of the 
floors allowed it to move; a rougher surface would have brought it to a 
straining halt. Then it stopped. Mayrin bit back a cry of despair. Her eyes 
blurred. Through her distress she felt Eleeri's grip tighten.
"No, Mayrin, look!"
Mayrin dashed a hand across her eyes and glanced up. In its last gasp the lizard 
had turned to rear up against a wall. It was the carven ornament once more, but 
still it leaned forward as if pressing into the stone.
Jerrany was running his hands over the chill blocks. "I can't find any 
entrance."
Six hands patted, feeling along the lines of the wall stones. There was no door 
to be seen or felt. But their guide had not halted in midcorridor as it would 
have had it simply lost power. There had to be an entrance here. They would not 
cease to search until it was found.
Finally Eleeri stepped back. Illusions had taken them before. Perhaps now the 
pendant would consent to aid. She held it against the wall that blocked their 
path. Again came the draining, but this time the specks outlined an oblong on 
the stones. A patch of them clustered at shoulder height. Moved by an impulse, 
Eleeri placed her hand over them. There was a slow shuddering and the stones 
moved under her fingers. With a gasp of triumph, Jerrany seized the edge 
revealed and forced it further open.
They slipped through. Behind them the door shut silently and they gulped as they 
found it would not open again.
It was Mayrin who shook off her fear. "We wanted to go this way. Best we do."
Eleeri lifted her pendant. "Pehnane, please, is there something you can do to 
help us?"
From the eyes of the figure, light sprang. It touched the walls that imprisoned 
them, waking runes to light. They were in a cursive script unknown to any of the 
trio, but they served to show the way.
"Let's hurry. We don't know how long this will last," Eleeri commented as she 
walked swiftly along the narrow passage. In single file they moved, watching all 
around as they traveled. Within her Eleeri felt a growing certainty that they 
neared their goal at last. Sometimes she felt as if they had been within this 
damned tower forever. If she escaped safely, she'd not be going back in, that 
was for sure.
The runes ended in another wall, but this time the door was visible. Eleeri 
slapped her hand against a finger-worn place. That had to be how to open it. 
Burning pain shot up her arm. She yelped, wrenching her hand away. Blood stained 
the wall as the door opened silently. Did anyone who opened the dratted thing 
have to pay like that? she wondered. Not that it mattered. The door was open and 
it seemed to have caused her no real damage. She sucked the small wound and 
scowled as her friends joined her on the other side.
Now there was light. Not a great deal, but sufficient to see that they trod a 
way deep in ancient dust. Jerrany gasped as they rounded a bend and a slitted 
window appeared. They jostled to gaze out, before Mayrin spoke, amazement in her 
voice.
"Look at the sun. It's barely moved."
"Time," Jerrany said softly. "Time is different in the tower. I wondered how it 
was that our fighters still held its attention. But see the sun: less than an 
hour has passed since we entered. Perhaps only half of that. Our men swore to 
hold for at least an hour, two if they could. There is time yet for us to seek 
and find if we be swift. Come." He studied the passage through which they moved, 
then pointed. "That way leads into the center, surely. This one seems to curve 
around, but that cuts at right-angles inward. Let us try it?"
The women nodded consent and the three ducked through into the smaller narrowed 
corridor. Here the light dimmed once more, but with hope they pressed on. Eleeri 
halted them at the next turning. Her certainty grew.
"This way."
She was hurrying, her feet stirring up to knee level the clouds of dust which 
still layered the ancient stones. It was certain that no one else had traversed 
these ways for centuries, she thought. Romar had said she would be guided by 
ways unknown to the tower inhabitant. How much had he to do with this? Or had it 
been the aid of the ancient one who had searched her mind in the cavern below? 
She smiled. What did that matter, so long as she found Mayrin's brother? There 
was a time to ask questions, and a time to accept without asking and do, not 
talk. She slowed as a hiss came from Jerrany, who led.
"Another door here, and there's something beyond. I can hear sounds." Eleeri 
felt an insistent tugging at her waist. She slipped the pendant from her dagger 
sheath, placing it gently upright on the floor, then stood back.
"What are you doing?"
"I think it's time for him to help," she hissed back. Mist pooled upward from 
the floor, then fell away again. In its place Pehnane stood. Eleeri stifled a 
nervous giggle. He looked faintly ridiculous cramped into this narrow corridor. 
With his gleaming flanks brushing the walls, head lowered so as not to strike 
the roof, hooves lifting delicately out of the dust, he met her eyes, sharing 
her amusement.
A lift of his nose signaled them toward the door. Jerrany touched it cautiously, 
listening. In turn the others came forward to lay an ear to the thin stone. 
Jerrany waved them back to gather around the bend, heads together.
"Those aren't voices. Not human, anyhow." He turned to look up at the stallion, 
who loomed over him. "Can you tell us anything?"
The mind-voice rolled like thunder. *It is the last one to serve he who dwells 
here. It is my ancient enemy. Yours is the task to face he who dwells here, to 
free his slaves. Mine is the facing of this servant and his final defeat. Long 
have I waited. Let me go now so that I may rejoin my kin-friends and be at 
peace.*
Within the corridor they squeezed into position. Jerrany reached around, taking 
hold of the door and flattening himself against the walls as he did so. The door 
opened silently and the stallion sprang past him. There was a squeaking as small 
forms scurried desperately away.
"Thas," Jerrany identified them in disgust. With the arrival of the Keplian, the 
lights in the room beyond had flared brighter. Now the inhabitants fled to 
escape that painful light. Eleeri stared at the frantic forms as they ran to and 
fro. Mayrin had told her of these earth burrowers, but the reality was far 
stranger than she had imagined. The last of them found sanctuary from the light, 
vanishing into a wall which had sprung open under their beating. Behind they 
left a vast, vaulted space.
Only two figures remained. Keplian fronted Keplian, stallion faced stallion. But 
the eyes of one glowed the blue that was power of Light, the other rolled eyes 
of crimson fire. Jerrany and Mayrin would have stayed to watch, to encourage 
Light's champion, but Eleeri seized them in a hard grip.
"Such a fight may attract attention. If the tower turns to see one enemy within, 
will it not look for others? Let us seek quickly while there is yet time."
Still she was the last to turn away, hearing the voice in her mind. *Seek, 
far-kin, and may your fortune be all good. Where I go they will remember the 
daughter of their blood.*
She ran then, to escape the feeling that she deserted a friend.
At the river the master-at-arms gathered his men. None were unwounded, but they 
were prepared to fight on. He studied the sky and frowned. His lord had hoped 
some sign would show when the tower was failing. His men and the mares would 
fight a little longer, but to continue much beyond this time was to die. Still, 
now might be the time to try a few wiles.
He called orders as the Keplians fell back. They made a running battle of it, 
with his men spreading out to harass the outliers. Twice they jumped crevices in 
the earth; each time rasti were lost within.
In the hall within the tower another battle raged. Both power and ordinary 
strength contended here. Keplian stallion reared high, screaming fury at Keplian 
stallion. Power blazed and seared in the air between them. They were evenly 
matched on that level. Well, then, they would fight in the ancient way. They 
leaped forward, heads snaking out to rend and tear. Hooves hammered in body 
blows. Pehnane's teeth drew blood as they tore through an ear. In reply his 
opponent squealed, striking with razored forefeet. Glowing crimson blood 
trickled from the savaged ear. Blue fire flowed from a hoof-gashed shoulder.
They came together exchanging kicks in turn, then broke apart once more. Now the 
enemy seized Pehnane's throat, but before he could clamp down, a pawing hoof 
thrust hurled him back. Like maddened wrestlers, they met in the hall center. 
Rising, sinking, grabbing for holds only to lose them, leaving bloody fire in 
the wake of teeth and hooves. Twice the enemy landed blows to the rear flanks of 
his opponent, high on the kidneys where a sufficient strike could cripple. But 
each time Pehnane swerved, just a little, and the full power failed to lash 
home. The enemy's blood pulsed fire as it flowed down the forelegs. He was 
weakening and he knew it.
Both stallions spun rearing, seeking for the throat grip. They failed and landed 
back on their hooves again, lashing out viciously. Blue fire laced Pehnane's 
chest; he, too, was weakening, but there was no fear in his sapphire eyes. It 
was for this he had remained: to face the one who had chosen Dark power and a 
Dark master. He feinted, falling back in an illusion of weakness. The Dark 
stallion shrieked triumph, rising on his hind legs to crash home the death blow. 
Pehnane shied sideways and as his enemy came down off balance, the blue-laced 
head shot out. Teeth met in the jugular, crunched down with all the strength 
left to him.
Convulsively the enemy attempted to rear. He failed as his legs unlocked. Light 
faded from the crimson eyes as he sank to the stone, Hatred shone in his dying 
glare. His choice had been made very long ago; there would be no last-minute 
repentance.
Pehnane reared, standing almost straight on quivering hind legs. Within his mind 
a call resounded, to be answered as light flowed about him, silver deepening 
into gold as the air sliced open onto a sunlit sky. Those he loved best waited 
for him as he gathered his failing strength to reel forward. Hands greeted him. 
Behind him the gate slammed shut, light faded from the hall. The body of his 
enemy drifted up as a coil of blackened smoke and was gone. But in another place 
friends greeted friends in gladness. A task was completed.
The tower shuddered as the servant died. Blue light ran in power around the 
rooftop. Even from so far away as the river it could be seen. The master-at-arms 
reined his horse back from the blood-crazed rasti.
His voice rose up. "Break off, break off."
They fell back, leaving a gap between themselves and the beasts they fought. He 
waved toward the direction of the tower.
"A sign, our job is done. Let us lead these away from our wounded." He called 
orders as the injured who could no longer fight started up the slope. The rasti 
snarled low in many throats. They would not be cheated of their prey.
But far away like a spider spinning its web, the Dark knew danger. It ceased to 
attack the fools who fought against orders. With that withdrawal the beasts 
faltered. Part of their madness had been caused by the assault on their minds. 
With that gone, they gave back a little. Step by step, the master-at-arms 
withdrew his fighters, making no overquick or clumsy move to spur the rasti into 
automatic attack. Then the animals began to turn away, hunching their fluid way 
back to their burrows.
Hapwold moved his warriors more swiftly. The Keplian mares split away from the 
riders, moving off toward the trail to their home. Two would never return, nor 
would the four men who had fallen. But they had had blood for their going, a 
river of it. A warrior asked no more.
They passed over the river high up on the lower hills. There they camped, 
dressing each other's wounds while water boiled and stew simmered.
The mares climbed their trail painfully. But the canyon welcome them back as did 
their foals and friends. Only two of the babies stood bereft, whimpering their 
sorrow and loneliness. Other mares gathered them in. At the entrance, runes 
shifted into light. Full circle was achieved, and Keplian mares and foals stared 
at each other, wonder in bright blue eyes.
In the tower, that which dwelled within gathered its power. Enemies were inside. 
They had murdered its servant. But they should not prevail.
Eleeri ran up a flight of steps to face a great bronze door wrought with many 
panels. Each held figures which seemed to move slowly, but she had no time for 
wonders. Her hands leaped out to fling open the last barricade. Her friends 
stood shoulder to shoulder as she trod boldly in over the stone sill. A circle 
of chairs filled the far side of the room. Within them lolled six figures. One 
by one each raised its head to meet the eyes of those who stood in the doorway. 
Six Romars leaned forward, hope brightening their faces.

17
Eleeri halted, eyes wide in sudden fury. Even now, even at the last, the enemy 
would test them. She considered. Behind her Jerrany stirred.
"What can we use to show the truth?"
"Me," his wife snapped. "Romar's my brother. I'll know which is the true man."
Eleeri nodded. "But what if they all are?" she questioned slowly: "Would it not 
be a fine trick to divide his spirit among them?"
That thought held them motionless in the doorway. If Eleeri was right, then to 
slay any of the Romars would be to lose a portion of all that made him human.
What could help them now? Eleeri listed the possibilities in her mind. The clay 
presently making an uncomfortable lump at her belt was to be used—but not yet. 
In the keep she had realized its capabilities. In his solitude Cynan had delved 
deep into some of the more arcane aids to magic, and passed them along to his 
eager pupil. But the clay was for later, as was the crystal from the Lady of the 
Green Silences. But there remained the gift of Light.
She turned to study Mayrin and Jerrany. Could they now use the Light they had 
been given? She spoke to her friends quietly, their faces brightening as they 
listened. Then it was Mayrin who marched forward. She put out her hands to clasp 
those of the first figure in line. Around those clasped hands flared a glow.
The figure keened its agony, dissolving into a heap of thick clay dust. Mayrin 
moved on to the second as it shrank back. To no avail. She seized its hands in 
turn so that it shrieked and crumbled, even as the light flamed about them. Then 
the third—but then Eleeri called her back. With that last the flare of light had 
been almost gone. To risk a fourth might be dangerous. It was Jerrany's turn and 
he strode to the fourth figure, hands leaping out to seize as light flamed once 
more.
The figure crumbled, as did the fifth and sixth. The friends stared at each 
other over the heaps of clay dust.
"He wasn't any of them," Mayrin wailed. "Why the illusion?"
"To keep us occupied," Jerrany said grimly. "All we've seen so far has been 
illusion, using power drained from Romar, I suspect. If this Dark lord wastes 
too much, he may have none of his own. Perhaps he's delaying us, hoping to snare 
us in illusion or to escape before we reach Romar." His face set hard, lips 
thinning purposefully. "Let us go!"
They went quickly now, trotting down the passage. Behind them the clay dust 
stirred into nothingness. Eleeri's guess had been right. Only evil had been 
affected by the touch of Light. Had Romar's spirit been within any of the 
bodies, it would simply have been freed to return to his true body. But now the 
power given them by her far-kin in the tower deeps was exhausted.
Eleeri and Mayrin followed Jerrany. He had had enough of these childish games. 
Somewhere within this place his shield-brother was being tormented, used, and 
drained. He would find him, free him, return with him to their home, and that 
which dwelled here. His teeth showed in a savage grin; whatever the outcome, the 
dweller in Darkness was going to regret all this.
Behind him Mayrin gasped. "Wait, wait!"
He slowed so she might catch up. "Jerrany, Eleeri thinks we are being drawn 
again in the wrong direction."
Rage flooded him. That female, always she interfered. If it hadn't been for her 
example, Mayrin might not have insisted on coming. It was Eleeri who had risked 
his wife, Eleeri who had tricked them here to where evil might take them. 
Eleeri… His face twisted into terrible lines of hatred and he sprang. But the 
woman had seen the growing madness in the eyes that watched her as he halted. 
She sprang back, dagger flicking from the sheath. He stumbled and before he 
could recover, the blade touched flat across his forehead.
Jerrany groaned as pain slashed through his mind. Then his eyes cleared. "What 
have I done? Oh, gods, Eleeri, I'm sorry."
She held out the silver dagger. Now it glowed, a soft luminous light that 
soothed and comforted.
"Take this into your hand and pray to the Light."
He took out his own dagger as she spoke, taking hers in his left hand. Then he 
raised them to lay along his temples. The points came together to form two sides 
of a triangle, and as his eyes shut, light leaped from the juncture. Mayrin kept 
silence until his eyes opened again. Then she waved to where a thin blade of 
light stretched before them.
"I think you are forgiven."
"A signal?" He glanced shamefacedly at Eleeri. "I beg your forgiveness. I was 
angry at what this thing has done to my shield-brother. With that anger it seems 
I gave a foothold to evil. It then twisted my mind so that it seemed it was you 
I should be angry at."
Eleeri had been angered at his attack, but she had wit enough to understand. 
This was another attempt by their enemy to divide their strength. If she had no 
forgiveness, then it would be she who weakened them now.
She stretched out a hand, taking his fingers in a gentle clasp. "I understand 
that; it was not your fault. We are all here to free one we care about." His 
eyes searched hers and narrowed in sudden interest. He said nothing, but she 
could see he wondered. Her head came up a little in pride. If she had begun to 
care for Romar, what was that to him?
She hid a smile. Begun to care was one way to put it. In truth, she would have 
Romar free of the tower or die in the attempt. That was more than mere caring, 
but now was not the time to speak of it. Let him be won free first, then let her 
find he felt the same way. After that, they could speak of a future.
The beam of light showed the way for a short space before it faded. An attempt 
to revive it failed. They clustered in the center of the passage before Mayrin 
took out her own weapon. "We didn't use this one. Maybe it can help." She raised 
it to her forehead, holding the picture of her brother strongly. The light was 
clear but faint. Still, once more they had a guide.
This time they ran. With the extra speed, faint as the light was, they gained 
distance. When it finally vanished, they were at a junction in the passages.
"Great, now where?" Eleeri muttered to herself.
She peered down both tunnels. "Let's try something else." She clasped one of 
their hands in each of her own. "Join your free hands. Now think of Romar. Try 
to throw out a rope and tie it to him."
They stood there, faces white and stained as they built the picture. At last 
Romar stood before them. To Eleeri's knowledge this was the true Romar. Not the 
casual smiling man his sister remembered, nor the warrior Jerrany would have 
called to mind. This figure was pale of face, lines of pain and weariness showed 
clear. The clothes were worn and stained and she could feel the disgust that 
their dirt-thickened feel brought to him.
Hollow eyes turned in shadowed sockets to seek her. Her hands moved in a dance 
of signs. "Courage. Strength. Wait, help comes." He nodded and was gone, but the 
feeling of a link remained. They opened eyes on the chill stone of the passage 
and wordlessly all turned to face the left-hand fork.
"It grows dark down there. How do we see?"
"Wait until we can't; then we'll think of something," Mayrin replied tensely.
Eleeri had walked over to a nearby door. She slid it open sufficiently to peer 
within. Then she called them quietly.
"There's old furniture in here. If we take as much as we can carry, we'll have 
light."
They entered cautiously to tear apart the smaller pieces. Legs from some of the 
chairs would do very well. Mayrin dragged down an ancient tapestry to rip into 
strips. These she wound about the head of each length of wood. They would catch 
flame more easily and their fire would in turn set the wood to flaring.
With a bundle of the makeshift torches under their arms, they left the silent 
room. Ahead the passage darkened, but with fire they could see their way. 
Pausing only long enough to light the first torch, they tramped on into the 
dark, hands linked firmly. Jerrany led until the first torch was burning low. 
Then Mayrin's was lit and she led in turn. At the tail of the small line, Eleeri 
held out a sword in her free hand. She just hoped there would be enough torches 
to take them through the dark. It was a gamble. If they went forward until half 
were gone, then they would either have to turn back or risk being left in 
lightlessness.
She breathed in deeply. She would not turn back even if she must go on alone. 
One by one the torches burned until half their number were gone. The stubs were 
then impaled on a dagger point to be burned, lighting a little farther.
Silently Mayrin took out the next of her torches and moved into the lead. There 
was no discussion; all had made their decision as they walked. There was to be 
no retreat. Four torches remained when Eleeri muttered a swift warning.
"Something moves ahead. Mayrin, set your back against the wall and hold the 
torch aloft so we have light. Jerrany, let you and I flank her with swords and 
daggers."
They fell into the formation as something huge hulked at the edge of the light. 
It remained there as they stood facing the sound of its breathing. The torch 
burned slowly, the dark pressed forward, as the beast loomed in the shadows. 
Minutes passed, and they waited. A slow conviction grew in Eleeri as they 
guarded. This, too, was part of a plan, a Dark plan.
She began to speak even as Jerrany, too, made to do so.
"We're being—"
"This is a trick!"
"Yes." Mayrin, too, had seen what was occurring. "That thing is here to make us 
waste time and our torches." She whirled the torch so that the flame leaped up. 
"Get out of our way, evil one." She lit a second torch and waved them in her 
hands, marching confidently forward. The creature slunk back before the searing 
blaze. Swords flashed out on either side of her as she moved faster. Now she was 
trotting, the flames streaming back in the wind of her pace. With a final snarl 
of frustration, the beast loped into a side tunnel and was gone.
They rounded a sharp bend and ahead a faint glow showed. Jerrany reached to take 
one of the torches, dashing it out against the floor.
"Look, that's light ahead."
Their pace picked up again as the light grew. A second bend, and they came out 
into a great hall. Within, candles burned while windows were muffled in heavy 
soft folds of black cloth. Mayrin seized a curtain and flung it backward. 
Through the window sunlight streamed, touching them all with a golden warmth. 
The candles smoked into nothingness as a scream of angry pain rang through the 
hall. Eleeri smiled wickedly.
"I get the feeling that something here doesn't like the sun. Let's let a bit 
more light in and see how it likes that."
They ran like children from window to window. At each they flung back the heavy 
cloth, laughing at each shriek of fury that greeted the light. Not until all 
windows were free of the muffling fabric did they desist.
Jerrany stood panting in the middle of the floor. A thought struck him so that 
he walked quietly back through the door through which they had entered. He 
stared down the passage. All was light; the dark had gone. Interesting. It 
seemed that the great hall here might control other places within this tower. 
Voices brought him back to where his wife and his friend ran to stare out each 
window in turn.
"Come and look at this, Jerrany."
He did so. All the views were utterly strange, but a memory stirred. One looked 
like the place an opened door had shown them earlier. He said so. Eleeri nodded; 
she, too, recalled the odd desolate scene they had glanced at briefly. These 
must be some of the gates to other worlds.
Then she stretched. Her muscles felt strained, her legs weary with all this 
walking, but they had to continue. It could be more dangerous to waste time 
resting here. They moved on, but not before breaking more chairs into a further 
supply of torches. Behind them they left the curtains wide open and tied back. 
If Jerrany's belief was right, it could ensure them light in the passages to 
come.
It seemed that his guess was right. There was no darkness as they traversed the 
seemingly endless corridors ahead. And all the time the linkage they had created 
tightened.
Finally Mayrin halted. "I can feel Romar very close now."
"Spread out," Jerrany ordered softly. "We move up one by one. If there is 
danger, best it reach only one of us." He unsheathed his sword silently. "I take 
the lead, then Eleeri, then you." Before there could be any protest, he was in 
motion, slipping on silent feet toward the door that was appearing in sight 
around a shallow bend. It was huge, a great double leafing of carved and inlaid 
wood. On it tiny figures danced, hunted, loved, and jested with each other.
One of them caught Eleeri's eye. The tiny face was alive with curiosity as it 
watched her. A mad impulse seized her. She grinned, putting a finger to her 
lips. It smiled and a finger went up in turn as the tiny head nodded.
Jerrany was facing the door. They must open this, but having laid hands against 
the wood, he could feel it shut firmly. Perhaps a bar on the inside held it 
against them? He lifted his sword and Eleeri saw all the tiny figures fall back 
in alarm. Her hand shot out to clutch at his arm, pulling him backward.
"No. Let me try something."
He nodded, stepping back. Her hands went up to trace runes: the ancient signs of 
warn and guard that barred her own canyon keep. The miniature people clustered 
together, then broke apart, eyes watchful, seeming to be waiting as they stared 
at her friends.
"Make your own hold signs," Eleeri suggested. Mayrin did so, followed by 
Jerrany. The tiny forms conferred, then the girl who had smiled at Eleeri 
stepped out to face them. Her hands came up and slowly, deliberately, her 
fingers wove the signs to match, but she did not cease there. Her hands lifted 
again. Some of those with her might have stopped her then, but others of their 
number held them back.
Once, twice, thrice, she drew the ancient runes of opening. At a signal the 
three before her repeated them. Again and again the repeat. Then a last time—and 
as Eleeri's hands moved for the ninth time, she felt power gather and break like 
a wave against the doors. The doors thinned, fading into a glowing blue 
smoke—and as they vanished, she saw the tiny figure throw up a hand in farewell.
From the actions she had seen, the tiny people had deliberately allowed them 
passage—and died to do so. Cold with anger at the sacrifice, she hurled herself 
forward. From a littered desk a form spun, eyes wide with horrified astonishment 
at her entrance. She wasted no time in staring, but attacked, the knife flashing 
as it slashed downward. The creature died, croaking horribly as one arm tried to 
stave off death.
From another door more of them swarmed into the fight. Eleeri shuddered. They 
were an unholy amalgam of toad and human, but, she reflected as she fought, 
horrible as they might appear, they were no warriors. They died too easily. 
Beside her Jerrany and Mayrin fought, swords cleaving the enemy until the last 
of them had fallen. Without pause, Eleeri made for the door from where these 
guardians had come. She wrenched it open, hurling herself through and to one 
side.
Jerrany followed, swinging to the right, sword at the ready. A man confronted 
them now. A man. But not quite a man, for his eyes glowed red fire in the 
handsome face, his proportions somehow no longer quite those of humanity. He was 
well enough looking, Eleeri thought. Short in stature, no more than five and a 
half feet at most, but well-muscled, and his movements as he leaned forward were 
supple. His face could have been called handsome, if one ignored the fleshy 
lips, the bland coldness in the eyes. Already lines of petulance were starting 
to show, around the mouth. It was the face of one who is usually secure in his 
own esteem, and self-indulgent to his own whims and appetites.
He was clad in a smooth silken material, designed and cut to show his lithe 
strength, and open almost to the waist in front. Eleeri could not quite say what 
was wrong with his shape; perhaps the arms were a little too long, the legs a 
touch too short. All she knew was that as he stood there summing them up even as 
they stared back, he reminded her of nothing so much as stepping in something 
squishy in the dark. She had an urge to make a disgusted sound and step back and 
away. His over-red lips parted.
"Oh, but you have done so well, come so far—for nothing. Did you think I would 
give back the one you seek at a mere word?" His face shaped a smug leer. "Yet if 
one of you would come to me willingly I might be generous. I might be… very 
generous." He waited, but none of them spoke. "No? Well, then you are uninvited 
guests. Leave and perhaps I will not call the Dark against you."
"We have met the Dark. We are here," Mayrin said briefly.
"I could offer you other choices—"
"Those, too, we have seen. We have rejected them," Mayrin returned.
"I could kill the one you seek. Where, then, do you profit?"
"In death he would be free. What then of your own use of him?"
His face twisted in rage. "Then fight and lose, pawns of Light." His hands came 
together in a single echoing clap that gathered sound to roll like thunder about 
the room. Abruptly they were elsewhere.
Their hands shot out to grasp. Fingers linked as they swung into battle 
formation back to back, swords out. Ever afterward Eleeri was unsure if it was 
their eyes that adapted to the shadowlands or light came to them from some 
source. But gradually they could see farther and farther although all the land 
they saw was in the grays of shade and shadow.
"Where are we?" Mayrin's voice trembled a little.
Jerrany shrugged. "I do not know. Maybe someplace of the Dark lord's devising. 
Perhaps a real world. But I recall once hearing a wise one from Lormt. He told a 
tale of a shadow world which is half in our world and half in nothingness. Those 
who are whole can return from it. Those who are not are refused passage. Would 
that not be a safe place to hold Romar's spirit captive? He would be trapped 
here, unable to leave, unable to pass the boundary to return to where his body 
lies."
The two women looked at each other, then nodded. Mayrin spoke angrily. "No 
wonder he sent us here. But what do we do?"
Eleeri grinned, a smile that was suddenly dangerous. "He thinks it a joke. We're 
supposed to find Romar, perhaps free him, then try to leave. When Romar can't, 
that so-called lord will find it very amusing, I've no doubt."
"Then why are you smiling?" Jerrany was puzzled.
Eleeri's fingers went up to touch the lump above her belt. Cynan had taught her 
spells and all the time she had lived in Escore her gifts had grown in strength. 
In this trial of her abilities everything she had ever known and all the power 
she had slowly gained was blending into a whole.
"Let us find Romar," she said quietly. "I may have something which will help us 
win him free of this shadowland."
She waved aside their queries. "Let us find him first if we can. Free him, then 
return here. Time enough then to ask questions."
Jerrany nodded, "Let us decide on a direction. Does the mind-rope still bind us 
to Romar?"
There was a brief silence as they tested. The feel of the link held yet. Jerrany 
led off, heading for a low range of hills deep in shadow. To either side the 
women moved out a pace behind him, eyes searching the terrain as they trotted. A 
soft whimpering caught their attention as they passed a clump of tangled, 
viciously thorned brambles. Mayrin turned to follow the sound. Then she fell to 
her knees.
"Look, he's caught." Her hands went out to aid, but Eleeri hauled her abruptly 
backward.
"Hold on. It may be some kind of trap."
She drew her dagger, the silver shining in the shadow-light. With it she 
carefully moved the brambles aside until the figure could crawl free. Then she 
offered the blade.
"If you are not evil, touch this."
It did so, straightening abruptly into a man only a little less tall than they. 
He bowed low.
"I acknowledge a debt to Light. May I aid you?"
They studied him. With his touch on the silver blade, he had grown. He was male, 
but not quite human. His eyes were round and his ears long, with what looked 
like tufts of furry feathers atop them. His hands were three-fingered and 
stubby.
Jerrany stirred. "Are you born to this land?"
"I am. But neither I nor this place are of the Dark. Here both Dark and Light 
may abide." He frowned. "Though we are never pleased when those who follow 
either side strongly intrude. We prefer peace."
Mayrin nodded. "Why were you in the brambles?"
"Because a power is meddling here again." His voice was soft and angry. "I was 
seized and entangled so that I might entangle you. But I do not choose to do 
this. You have seen I could touch silver. I am not of the Dark, nor do I choose 
to be used by it. If you will trust me, I will lead you to the one you seek. The 
journey on foot would be great, but I can shorten it to a breath." He waited.
Mayrin took a deep breath. Before either could prevent it, she had taken a step 
forward, laying her hand in his.
"It is my brother who is captive. I trust you to take us to him, aid us to free 
him or at the least cause us no hindrance."
The male smiled up at her. His hands went out to touch theirs; they gripped his 
tightly. There was a second of dis-orientation, a clap of air, and they stood on 
the shores of a black lake. The inky water rippled toward their feet.
"Which way now?" Jerrany was scanning the lake-shore.
A stubby hand rose to point. They trudged forward through loose black sand to 
where a small black marble building reared above the low slope.
Jerrany hooked his dagger through the door latch, dragging at the weight of 
tightly shut wood. It yielded slowly.
Within they could see a figure sitting motionless in a great carven chair. It 
was bound in heavy loops of chain, but the face as it turned to them was that of 
Romar. But not the once-elegant, gaily clad sword-brother Jerrany had known. Nor 
the joyous laughing brother Mayrin remembered. It was to Eleeri he looked the 
most familiar as she met the exhausted enduring eyes. Resolutely she trod 
forward, taking his chill hands in hers.
"Well met, Romar. We have come to take you home."
His hands closed on hers and the sudden light in his eyes lit her heart. At 
first she had pitied him for his slavery. Then she had grown to care for him as 
a friend. And finally she had known that without this man her life might be 
incomplete. She breathed in the air of this place. She would have him free of 
here or die trying. She moved aside as Mayrin and Jerrany thrust past to clasp 
hands with Romar. Mayrin's face was calm, but slow tears trickled down her 
cheeks. The first step was accomplished. That which was lost was now found.

18
Mayrin was fumbling at the chains. "I can't see any locks. How are they sealed?
Jerrany had picked up a link and was following it around his friend. He circled, 
circled again, traced the links over an arm and around the chair. Finally he 
looked up at them.
"There are no locks. The chain has no end."
"Damn!" Eleeri snarled. "They were put on; there has to be a way to take them 
off again."
The prisoner smiled bitterly. "You are assuming that my master wanted to take 
them off. He plans to use me until all I am is gone. Then he will have no need 
to open the chains. I will no longer be within them."
But Eleeri came of a people to whom there were no impossible problems, only 
unfound solutions. Touching the chains with the daggers brought reaction. The 
chains tightened until Romar gasped for breath. Lift the touch of silver and 
they slackened once more. At length she stood back.
"Romar, if the Dark lord created these, they must be wholly of the Dark. That is 
why they react to the silver and to anything else we bear that is of the Light. 
But they are stronger than anything we bear."
She paused, thinking. Perhaps their guide could help them. "What is stronger 
than the Dark?"
"Love," the creature answered.
"What buys freedom?"
"Sacrifice."
She leaned forward, her eyes holding his, watching for the slightest evasion 
now. "What breaks chains to free a living captive?"
"That which you hold in common."
Into her mind came the answer then, like curtains raised to show the sun. Her 
dagger flicked into her hand and with one sweep she opened the skin of her arm. 
Blood spilled over the chains. For one instant they tightened— she could almost 
hear the creak of Romar's ribs. Then the black bindings withered, smoking away 
to nothingness. Her hands went out to lift him up as he took one tottering step 
forward. Then he was in her arms as his sister and sword-brother crowded about, 
holding them both.
His face bent to hers. "Tsukup?"
"Indeed." She was half laughing as tears slid down her face. His finger gathered 
one in.
"Tears for me? No, now is no time to weep." He hugged her savagely. "The three 
of you have done the impossible. Let us compound this and see if we cannot leave 
this place."
Their guide cleared his throat. "I can return you to a certain place, should you 
ask it of me."
It was Jerrany who understood that first. He straightened. "We ask that you take 
all four of us to a gate from whence we might come to our own lands again." 
Their guide held out a hand and at a touch they were gone. They stood swaying on 
short thin grass as their heads cleared. Ahead of them a faint mist alternately 
obscured and partially revealed a dull gray structure. Weathered stone blocks 
showed in a lichen-daubed archway.
Mayrin stepped back a pace. Her eyes met those of the guide. "I do thank you, 
good lord of this land. For your courage and your aid. Is there aught we could 
do for you in return? Your help has been far beyond any poor debt you might have 
owed us for releasing you from the brambles."
He hesitated, then nodded. His eyes drifted to the dagger that gleamed softly at 
her belt. Mayrin freed the sheath, handing it to him, then she drew the dagger.
"This weapon of Light do I freely give to you. Use it with honor. May it serve 
you as it has served me." She handed it to him, watching as it was sheathed once 
more. He bowed low to all of them in turn, then he was gone, loping away over 
the gray moorland. But as he went, it seemed as if his figure changed yet again, 
so that they stared at each other in silence.
To Eleeri it appeared as if a coyote had turned to study her with amusement as 
it left. She knew not what the others might have seen, but in her heart she 
smiled. The trickster came in many guises, as Far Traveler had always said. But 
they had dealt fairly and so been treated well in turn. That was as it should 
be, and as all legends told.
Her friends were studying the gate. It loomed, gray and massive, forbidding 
above them. Through the ancient arch they could see only mist.
"Well, shall we return?" Romar's voice was almost happy.
"We can; you cannot." Mayrin blinked. "We were told that you are only here in 
spirit. It takes both spirit and body to pass the gate."
He stared at them blankly. "Then must I remain here?"
But Eleeri's eyes had opened wide in sudden knowledge. At last there was a 
purpose for the clay from the canyon keep. Quickly she ran from bush to bush, 
then dragged out her dagger, cutting free a piece of her tunic. It was Romar who 
first understood. He nodded, taking the dagger from her to cut a length of his 
hair and spit upon the clay.
Eleeri twisted grass into thin cord, sewing rapidly. Then she held up the figure 
modeled from the clay. It bore a tiny dagger rough-carved from a silver wood, 
and was dressed in leather tunic and breeches.
"And something from all of us," Eleeri said as she dappled her own blood across 
the clay, then bound her dagger lengthwise along the cut she had given herself 
to free Romar. Mayrin added a long strand of her hair, Jerrany spat on the clay 
even as his sword-brother had done. Eleeri nodded.
She beckoned Romar. "Hold this and do not let go, no matter what may happen. 
Lead us, Jerrany."
He strode through the gate, sword at the ready. Behind him Romar was flanked by 
the women, each fierce-eyed. Light flamed about them in a blinding aura, heat 
seared, cold burned. But the women's hands remained clamped to Romar's arms. 
They were battered, tossed from side to side. Their fingers ached; it was as 
though they were dragged time and again against their hold.
Then it was over. Three people stood swaying on a stone floor within a great 
hall. Above, banners stirred. Mayrin shrieked.
"Romar! Romar! He didn't come with us."
Eleeri stooped to take up the clay figure. "He did, you know. Now all we have to 
do is defeat the Dark lord. Return his spirit, which is contained in this, to 
his body here, and go home." She sighed elaborately. "All in a day's work."
The giggles that greeted her words were a touch hysterical, but better than 
outcry. In her hand the clay moved. She placed it on the paving, then watched as 
it marched forward.
"Where's he going?"
"In search of his body, I should think. He'd have a better tie to that than any 
of us." They fell in behind at a slow walk. None of the passages they traversed 
were dark. Runes sparkled from the walls as they paced on. The small figure was 
tireless, but by now Mayrin was beginning to show her own weariness, and Jerrany 
and Eleeri were slowing. A glance from a window as they passed told them that 
time had halted in the shadowlands, but now it moved on again, albeit slower 
than outside the tower. By the sun they had entered this place no more than two 
hours ago, although days seemed to have passed. Hunger and thirst plagued them 
all, so that they passed dry tongues over drier lips as they walked.
The pace quickened until the tiny figure before them was running. It halted the 
flight at a door. Eleeri groaned.
"Not another door. What do we have to do this time?"
Jerrany had opened his mouth to reply when the heavy wood trembled. The door 
crunched open, as red-tinged light spilled from the room within.
The clay figure darted past Eleeri. She gave a yelp of protest as she followed 
it in—only to pull up facing a long broad desk. Leaning back in a magnificent 
chair, the tower's lord glared at them. At his side Romar lolled, body and face 
slack. In one swift glance Eleeri saw the clay figure lurking under the Lord's 
desk. She moved to the right, drawing the lord's eyes. The figure scurried 
forward into hiding behind the chair. Red coals met hers, holding her in their 
gaze.
"You trespass too greatly on my kindness, woman. It seems I must take stronger 
action to be rid of you and yours." He spoke a word of binding. Just inside the 
doorway, Mayrin and Jerrany froze into immobility. Eleeri herself felt as if her 
body were wrapped in chains.
She must play for time. Time in which Romar might reunite body and spirit. She 
yawned.
"Why waste strength on one who could be an ally, Lord? I came to this land and 
it is barren. I have little, who would have more. What could a mighty lord offer 
one who could be useful?"
His look shifted to a sudden interest. "You are not of this world. Came you 
through a gate?"
"Yes."
He nodded, leaning back thoughtfully. "That explains why you have been hard to 
take, woman. Your thoughts do not follow quite the same paths. Your gods are 
different, your beliefs strange. But I am powerful. Do not think to challenge 
me."
"I do not. Not yet…" she added under her breath. "I merely ask what such a one 
as I could be worth to you."
He deliberated. From the corner of her eye Eleeri could see the mannequin 
climbing Romar's chair. A strange feeling distracted her then, something 
familiar. She kept her face blank. Somewhere within these walls friends came to 
their aid. The sense of knowing grew until she could recognize it.
By now the Dark lord was deep in his considerations. This woman would be most 
useful to him. With her power, his plans could leap forward. She could not be 
trusted, but then it appeared she held some value to these with her. He held 
them motionless, could slay them if he wished. A promise of their safety might 
bend her to his will. If not, he had other powers.
Eleeri shifted her head a fraction. Jerrany was held still by the Dark lord's 
power, but his eyes met hers and swiveled toward the door. So he, too, felt the 
approach of those they knew. Her eyes shifted back to the chair where Romar 
lolled. The mannequin came briefly into sight as it reached the top of the 
chair's back. It slid into hiding behind the body's cloak collar. Good. Now if 
only they could distract the tower's master for a few vital seconds, they might 
have something of a chance.
Outside, hooves thudded along paved floors, nearing the doors. Eleeri studied 
the Dark one. He had made a simple error with her. Even though he himself had 
said she was different, and although he had seen his powers did not hold her so 
well, he had still not seen where that might take her.
Her mind focused, tightened into a narrow beam directed straight at her friends. 
"Hold! Until I give the word.* The sounds outside the door ceased. Sunk deep in 
greedy thought, the one before her had noticed nothing. Not yet an adept, flawed 
by pride and vanity, it did not occur to him any could withstand his commands. 
Finally he lifted his head to stare at her.
She moved her arm, drawing his attention. Blood! She was injured. He could draw 
on that to bind her now, at once. There was no need to offer her any foolish 
promises. He swelled in pride as he gathered his strength.
He remembered the day he had stood in the canyon. He had endeavored to use the 
remnants of power left there and it had backlashed, destroying him. Only his 
body had died. But it had taken many generations before a wandering hunter had 
come within reach and he had gained enough strength to take over the man's body 
as host for his unhoused spirit. But all the time he had waited, he had grown in 
bitterness and hatred. Once he had been an adept, then a Dark adept. Then no 
more than a bodiless spirit howling in the wind. With his new body came growing 
power—and growing viciousness. But he refused to understand the lesson he should 
have learned from his past. Still more, he refused to see that his power was 
only a shadow of what it once had been.
He faced Eleeri, and his mind whispered warnings. He flung them off. What! Was 
he who had dueled other adepts to fear some wandering outworlder from an unknown 
people? He would take her spirit, break it to his will. Use her power to augment 
his own. Her friends would be useful to replenish his strength as well. They 
could have no ability to match his. They'd returned to him empty-handed; his 
slave remained chained.
He eyed Eleeri thoughtfully. There was something about her. Some vague 
familiarity. Then he snorted silently. What of it? She was nothing; they were 
all nothing. He'd regained a body, regained his own tower. Now they would pay. 
He flung back his head, laughing openly. Pride roared through him. He was master 
here. Let the insignificant ones bow to him—before he laid his power on them to 
compel. His eyes met hers and again the odd familiar feeling stirred. He stared 
angrily at the three.
Jerrany strained to move; Mayrin beside him struggled and failed even as he. 
From the corner of her eye Eleeri saw and understood. This task was hers. Her 
far-kin had opened the path to her; perhaps this was why. The Dark lord was not 
able to hold her entirely. This last act which would seal her heart and spirit 
to the land she had grown to love. She concentrated. Her foot slid across the 
floor.
Seated behind the desk, the Dark one noticed nothing at first. It was not until 
she had advanced several feet that he saw she moved. But even as he would have 
laid another spell on her, Eleeri, too, acted.
*Now!*
Hooves crashed against the door as four Keplian heads appeared briefly. The door 
sprang open a little, then slammed closed in spelled obedience. The Dark one 
jumped slightly, covering the movement by leaning forward.
"You have friends. They won't help you. They will merely provide me with more 
power when I take them." Hooves slammed solidly into the heavy wood, distracting 
him. He frowned, bringing his hands up to weave a spell. He'd make the door 
impregnable. Then he could deal with these inside first. After that, he would go 
out in his wrath to show those other fools what it meant to storm the tower of a 
Dark lord.
Eleeri felt his spell against her fade. Not much, just enough to allow her 
speech now. Under her breath she began to chant. From somewhere in the depths of 
memory she recalled the words. A plea to the gods to grant strength to a warrior 
who confronted the Dark forces.
"Earth Mother, aid your daughter. Sky Father, help a warrior.
"Ka-dih, speed my arrows, let my bow not break in my hands."
She strained to break the power that held her captive. Blood pounded in her 
head—becoming the drums of starlight. Within that light she could see those who 
watched. Warriors, black eyes gleaming from where they sat proud horses. 
Warriors who nodded to her in recognition, war shields and lances upraised to 
acknowledge another of their blood. Her eyes widened at the salute. The 
starlight drums rolled louder as deep within she knew pride. Those who were gone 
returned to account her as child of their blood, true-born Warrior of the 
Tshoah.
Louder spoke the drums, and louder yet until her head rang, her body swayed to 
the raging beat of blood and drums. Deeper in her mind than she could ever have 
recalled consciously, a door slid open. From behind the barrier, words flowed, 
no ritual chant but one that built on she herself and all she was, and thus its 
power was greater.
"With the thunder I ride, daughter to Ka-dih, child of Tshoah am I.
Walker on strange roads, kin to a sister, four-footed, great of heart.
I do not bow to the rule of another.
Let Ka-dih look upon his daughter with favor.
I do not halt at another's bidding."
Her feet lifted a little as she swayed, stamping lightly to the surging rhythm. 
She allowed them to carry her forward a fraction with each stamp of a foot. 
Strength seemed to trickle into her with each tiny movement forward.
The Tower's owner was layering the door with spells against the slamming hooves 
which threatened to smash the ancient wood. His words bound splinters together, 
froze hinges, jammed locks. Eleeri's chanting grew louder as she called on the 
gods of her blood. She felt the answer as power poured into her. For a fleeting 
moment she knew the fierce pride of those who had ridden the plains, who had 
been known to all as Tshoah, the enemy people.
Her head came up as her chant grew. The man spelling busily broke off his 
efforts. His attention slammed back to her as he shouted a word. Eleeri's voice 
slowed, but she forced herself to speak. It picked up speed. Now she moved 
forward, sword wavering in her hand. Despite further spells, her grip remained 
firm. The Dark one flung in all his power to hold her motionless. He failed. She 
slowed, but still she came on, his death glinting in her storm-gray eyes. 
Panicked at last, he lashed out at the wound on her arm. He would drain her 
blood; that would end this farce. She would learn what it was to confront a 
superior.
But Eleeri had bound her silver dagger over the injury as she left the 
shadowlands. On that the Dark one inadvertently drew, so that for seconds he 
convulsed in agony, silver's spirit invading his mind. He cried out, 
concentration quailing, and as it did so, the clay mannikin leaped out from the 
chair.
The tiny body powdered against the stone flooring. From it Romar's spirit rose 
up, entering his body as it lay flaccid against the carved wood. He remained 
still. He must take all the time he could to become used to it again. To allow 
strength to flow back into the once-empty shell. His eyes swiveled downward and 
his lips curved in the shadow of a grim smile.
About him yet he wore his sword belt with scabbarded sword in place. So, the 
evil one had been amused to allow this empty body to retain the trappings of its 
warriorhood. Well enough, that carelessness might come to destruction if Romar 
had his way—and time enough to recover. He relaxed. If there is nothing you can 
do, do nothing. Fretting wastes strength, or so his arms master had always 
taught him. He would wait. Hooves still struck at the door so that again and 
again it shuddered, booming hollowly. The very noise was infuriating the tower's 
master. So, too, was this female who dared to move against him. Nor did all his 
shouted words of power halt her snail's progress.
He moved back unconsciously, her grimness making him nervous. It was impossible 
she could reach him, quite impossible. But this silent inching advance was 
upsetting, as was that thrice-damned noise from the door. He fed power into 
halting her movements, drawing more from the spell which bound her friends. They 
appeared frozen in terror. They would keep. It was sufficient to give them back 
their voices, however, and Jerrany managed to turn his head slightly toward 
Mayrin.
"Be ready. If they can slay him, remember the gift."
She allowed her gaze to drop down to where the faint bulge in her tunic betrayed 
Duhaun's crystal.
"Yes."
The increase in power had done nothing. Still chanting softly, Eleeri continued 
her slow advance. The room was wide, but she had covered more than half the 
distance. His chair grated against the stone as he shifted it backward once 
more. The door boomed again and again. He cursed viciously. He would stop that 
sound if it was the last thing he did. It offended him by its very sound, 
implying as it did that he was unable to enforce silence. In a fury he drew 
power from the spell holding Eleeri. He flung it wildly against the door. That 
would teach those who dared batter at the entrance when he had bade them be 
quiet. Silence fell at the door, but from where she stood Eleeri's chant rose 
again.
"I do not halt at another's bidding.
I am Tshoah, kin to Far Traveler.
Let the gods make their choices, as I have made mine.
I do not eat dirt at the hands of another."
She staggered a whole pace forward as the lord of the Dark Tower gaped at her. 
The sword length gleamed in her slender hands.
"On strange roads have I walked of my own will. I do not walk with another's 
feet.
I do not strike at another's word.
I am myself and my own."
The sword lashed out.
"Ahe!" The coup cry of her hard-riding line. The sword's point brushed the Dark 
one, the keen blade slicing through cloth and leather to score across the 
hairless chest. Blood trickled down. In shock, fury, and a sudden deadly terror, 
the Dark one stared at his own blood. She had injured him—she had dared! He 
flung himself back as the sword hummed toward him again.
He fell back still farther, frantically searching for something which might halt 
her creeping advance. With her gone, he could deal with those others who dared 
oppose him. It was only this one he feared.
The sword sliced at him once more. Again he shifted back, giving ground. The 
word of power came to mind then. It was risky. It might take him with it, but he 
had no choice. At least they'd all die with him; none should survive to count a 
victory. He opened his mouth to shout it in triumph—and choked. The agonizing 
pain in his back was more than he could bear. He choked again, his head turning 
sideways to stare at the figure behind him.
Romar had risen to his full height. In two hands he had taken his unsheathed 
sword and driven it home. Now he slumped against the seat that had been his for 
too long.
The Dark one glared at him in hatred and drew in a final breath. He would not 
die alone; he would take a revenge such as would be remembered down all the 
years to come. He opened his mouth to shout the word.
But even as Romar had struck, Eleeri had drawn back her blade again. It sang in 
flight, the tip slicing across his throat, destroying unspoken the word that 
might have doomed them all.
Drum thunder bellowed in her head. Somewhere beyond the room she saw the 
stone-headed lances toss high in salute to true-kin. Her voice lowered, deepened 
with triumph as she chanted the final words.
"I am myself and my own.
I am Tshoah—and thus do we serve our enemies.
I give thanks to the gods above, to Earth and Sky, to thunder
I who am daughter give thanks to Ka-dih."
Before her the body of the Dark one spilled blood. The light of hatred had faded 
from his eyes, life from his body as it slipped slowly, bonelessly toward the 
chill floor. Across the table, her eyes met those of Romar. A faint smile moved 
his lips. Hers curved in answer.
Released from the spells, Mayrin moved first. Her fingers flashed to tear open 
the lacings of her tunic. From within she lifted the crystal sent her. Raising 
it above her head, she dashed it against the floor, watching as bright splinters 
flew. About them the tower began to shudder. All that had been wrought by the 
one they had slain was failing. Only Romar knew how much that would be. It was 
he who seized Eleeri and his sister by the hands.
"We must leave, now and swiftly. There is a backlash of power when a master 
dies. Best we are gone before it builds too high." His own strength was still 
small, but with the women's aid he could stagger.
Eleeri grabbed at him. "No, look."
Where the body of the Dark one had lain, mist was rising. A growing mist that 
shaped into the face of the man it had once been. His eyes flamed rage, hatred, 
vanity challenged and beaten. But from where the bright rainbow splinters lay, 
another mist arose. It wrapped the face in mist, enveloped it, closed in smaller 
and smaller until at last it thinned to reveal—nothing.
Romar breathed in deeply. His voice broke then. "That which was here is gone 
forever. The tower is cleansed. We have still to evade traps that may remain. 
But my master is no more." His hand tightened on Eleeri's. "I hail a 
warriorborn. I greet a friend."
Eleeri grinned. "Save the speeches for when we are out." Her head jerked around 
as the door boomed and splintered. Four Keplian heads poked inside.
*Sister, are you going to stand and talk forever, or may we leave this accursed 
place?* Tharna sent.
Eleeri grinned again and strode to join her friends. Behind her, Romar gaped. 
They had spoken of the Keplians. She told him of her belief that they had once 
been created to stand with humans in friendship. But never had he realized the 
majesty of the great beasts with their now sapphire eyes. Eleeri was hugging all 
four at once and checking for injuries. She wasn't sure what that last silencing 
spell might have done.
*Nothing, battle-sister. It simply forbade the door to make sounds when struck.*
"And he wasted power for that? It killed him."
Romar chuckled. "Thus does evil often defeat itself— with a foolish indulgence. 
The noise maddened him so that he used power to silence it. That power used 
released you somewhat, and your sword in turn drove him back to mine." He 
reached out to take her hand. "You know my name, but as yet I do not know 
yours—only that you have called yourself Tsukup. Will you favor me with it?"
His eyes were warm on her so that she felt her spirits rise. This was a warrior, 
wise in that he gave credit to another. She had not been able to tell him all 
the story. He knew not as yet that they were far-kin. But for now that was not 
what he asked. In turn her fingers tightened on his hand.
"I am Eleeri," she said quietly. "Now let's get out of here." Laughing, he 
leaned on her shoulder as she guided him through the door.
"I shall look forward to a round tale later. Also the Valley of the Green 
Silences must hear of all that has happened. But"—his face sobered as he gripped 
her arm—"I know what you risked to save me. Thanks are pitiful in contrast, but 
they are given."
"And unnecessary."
"But spoken nonetheless," he insisted gently. "But I would share more than 
gratitude."
She glanced up, to meet a look that sent blood to her face. She smiled up at him 
then. Well, she'd wondered if she was to be the only barren one in her canyon. 
It now appeared this might not be so. With a light heart, she shouldered more of 
his weight as they moved down the passage. There was much still to do, and 
perhaps in times to come, still more to be. But for now let them concentrate on 
escaping this trap.
Behind them, Tharna sniffed. *I scent water. Battle-sister, would it not be well 
to drink? The male you aid is weak from thirst.* Eleeri turned and nodded 
silently, gesturing the mare to search for the source. Hooves thudded lightly on 
marble pavement as Tharna moved to seek. Her nose poked out toward a circular 
spot in the blank wall.
*Here.*
Eleeri stepped up to lay the dagger against it. The wall seemed to writhe, then 
opened in a slow twisting motion. A basin protruded with a spout above. Water 
poured into the basin as the girl swirled her knife through it.
"No change." Her eyes questioned the others. "Safe to drink?" Romar nodded 
slowly, then bent forward, holding the dagger within the basin as he drank. "It 
seems so. Let us drink lightly and move on."
They drank one by one as the basin continued to fill. Then all shied back as 
from overhead came a faint slow creaking. It was as if the roof groaned at the 
weight of the keep above it. Jerrany glanced up worriedly.
"I think it best we move on. Sometimes when the owner is defeated, the building 
he commanded falls completely."
Eleeri shivered. "Then let's try to keep marching. I'd prefer not to be under 
this amount of stone if it does fall." The last of the Keplians had slaked its 
thirst and Tharna sent agreement. The corridors passed by as they marched. 
Eleeri had shouldered Romar's weight again; he could continue to walk, but only 
if he was aided.
Yet although she was growing weary, she continued to support him, trying to 
share with him her own strength. Hunger grew, both of body and heart. She felt 
warmth flow through her where his body leaned against her own. She had little to 
offer him, perhaps. He was son to a wealthy man, even though that one in his 
folly had scorned him. She was stranger, not of his blood completely. Would that 
matter to him? She recalled the moment when their eyes had met over a slain 
enemy.
Nothing had mattered then, nothing but that the enemy was dead and the captive 
freed.
She prayed silently to the gods now: Let it continue so. Let us be one as more 
than far-kin.
The corridor was slowly opening out into a wider hall with great windows high 
along one side. Through these, sunlight streamed, making pools of warmth on the 
chill paving they walked.

19
As they passed one of the great windows, Romar drew Eleeri toward it. He stared 
hungrily at the landscape. So long, so very long since he had seen grass, felt 
the breeze or the sun, smelled the scents of his land. His face tilted so he 
could look at the woman beside him. There were some who would not see the beauty 
there, but he was a warrior, a hunter; to him, the strength, the lithe grace 
were beauty, and the clean lines of her face, the proud tilt of her head. She 
was as lovely as a fine sword, as graceful as a wildcat. He desired her, but 
more than that; over the nights when only their talking had kept him sane, he 
had come to love.
He eyed her wistfully as they rested. He had so little to offer. He was 
brother-in-law to a keep lord, but all that brought him was friendship. Mayrin 
would give him gifts if he wed, but they would get nothing from the grim old man 
who'd fathered them. Last word had been that he had wed again, some girl left 
husbandless by a sword in battle.
She brought to him one child. Rumor had it that another would soon come, and 
that the old man had promised her the keep as regent if so.
True or not, to claim his birthright he would have to return to his father's 
hold. Give up the wild lands out here which he had come to love so strongly. 
No—let this girl and her heir keep what was promised. He'd make a holding out of 
these lands and name them his.
If only… if only this one beside him, her flank warm against his, would accept a 
penniless hunter. He watched her face; he did not think she would be swayed by 
greed. She was not of that kind. But all women desired homes, and he had none to 
offer her. He wondered briefly where it was that she lived. Somehow they had 
never spoken of that in their dreams. She had probably feared to give a clue to 
her hiding place, should he break under the Dark one's use. Curiosity claimed 
him then. Where did she dwell out here in the wild lands? Once they were free of 
the tower, he would ask. If it was big enough for two, maybe she would share. He 
could bring a hunter's skills, a warrior's training, some little gear and goods. 
He gathered himself as Jerrany signaled the end of resting. Gods, let them just 
be free.
They marched with a slow, wary care. But the passages remained light, the traps 
unsprung, if traps there were. Nor did the distance seem as far. It was only 
Romar's weakness that slowed them. He had to rest often. Each time was an 
opportunity to catch up on what their friends had done.
Tharna spoke for the Keplians, as usual. *We waited, but you did not return. The 
signal came, so that we knew our kin would have ceased to hold that one's 
attention at the river. When you still came not, we became anxious for you. The 
door in the outer tower wall was yet open, so we entered. Some of the passages 
were too small for us, but we could follow others. We could feel our sister, and 
that tie we followed until we reached the place where you confronted the evil 
one.*
"You did not pass through a great cave far below?"
The mare looked surprised. *No, we moved upward always. It took little time 
before we found you.*
The humans blinked at each other with interest. This place was a maze, Eleeri 
thought. You really could get there from here—and anywhere else, too, it seemed. 
Not that it mattered much; she'd be delighted if she never saw the tower again, 
let alone tramped its endless corridors. They came to another just as Romar 
stumbled, dragging her almost to the ground as she sought to hold him up. They 
rested a little then Tharna poked a sly nose at her. *I could carry your mate 
for a while, if he would permit?*
She had not mind-sent to Eleeri alone, so that all turned to stare, first at the 
mare, then at the blushing woman.
Jerrany grinned. "Ha, spring has come early, it seems." His wife flung herself 
at Romar and Eleeri, almost sending them to the ground again. Jerrany's hand 
caught them, lending a moment's strength.
"Careful, Mayrin, or he won't be in any shape for a wedding."
Eleeri's blush deepened, "Hoi, I haven't been asked; don't let anyone's mounts 
run away with them."
"Not been asked, eh? Romar must be getting slow in his old age."
Romar straightened. "Thank you, brother. I can speak for myself." His eyes 
sought her face and read the answer to his wonderings. Gently, he took her hand 
and pulled her to front him. "Would you consider a man who has nothing? I can 
bring no lands, no wealth; I have little of the power, and no one has ever 
called me handsome. Nor am I any longer so young. I might have some possessions, 
did I return to my father's keep and bow to him. But that I will not do, even 
for love."
"Nor would I wish you to!" Eleeri broke in hotly. "Mayrin told me all about it. 
He's a fool not to see what sort of a son he had."
Romar's eyes lit up. "I have nothing," he warned again.
"You have strength and courage, intelligence and sense. What more do you need?" 
Her face turned away a little shyly. "I understand you are supposed to wed for 
lands here. I can bring those, but they are half yours already." She watched as 
he peered at her in bewilderment.
"Let's take Tharna up on her offer. I'll explain as we move." They marched on, 
with Eleeri talking, telling of her journey into the mist and the tale as it had 
been told to her. At the end he drew a deep breath.
"So this canyon and keep are ours by birthright?"
"So our far-kin said."
He reached down for her hand. "I would not wish to live there alone, nor to 
drive you out." His voice faltered. "I am no great catch, so my father assured 
me. Yet if you would share my life and all else, I would love you. I—I do love 
you, my most valiant lady." He was forcing his words now. He had spoken lightly 
to women before, but never seriously. Never opening his heart to one for whom he 
cared as he did for this slender gray-eyed daughter of another people.
"You're sure you don't just want to have things convenient? The keep is half 
yours, and—"
His hands shot out to grab her shoulders. His distress gave him sudden strength 
so that he shook her a little. "No, I do not want to have things conveniently 
arranged. I love you! If you don't love me, if you don't want me, then the lands 
are yours. I'll remain with Mayrin and Jerrany. I know I have so little to 
offer; I know—" It was his turn to halt as he realized that her eyes were alight 
with laughter.
"I believe you, I believe you. Just don't shake me to death. It'd be a poor 
start to a betrothal."
"You will—I mean, you really do—you're sure you—"
Eleeri put a gentle hand over his mouth. "I mean, I love you, I will wed you, 
and will you stop talking long enough to kiss me?" There was a long silence, 
broken only by whoops of approval from their friends.
As they broke apart, Tharna pushed her nose curiously toward her kin-sister. 
*Does this mean you'll foal now?* she queried.
Eleeri started giggling helplessly, joined by Romar and his kin.
"Give me a chance, Keplian," Romar found breath to answer.
*I am Tharna.*
"Thank you. Then give me a chance, Tharna, and my thanks also for carrying me. 
As for foals"—he smiled down into Eleeri's eyes—"I think there may be a foal or 
two in years to come. Just don't rush us."
The mare nodded, starting to walk on. Eleeri walked beside her, her fingers 
tight within Romar's hand.
All journeys must end, and this one did so into bright sun. Romar shaded his 
eyes and allowed himself to slip from the broad back onto the sweet-scented 
grass. He dug his fingers into the earth, studying the brown, crumbling soil in 
his hand. He'd feared he would never see this again. But beyond hope, on the 
other shore of despair, one had come to bear him back. No, not one alone; his 
sister, his sword-brother, and, beyond belief as well, four Keplians. He 
grinned, laying back on the soft grass.
"I think I'm dreaming all this."
Eleeri dropped down beside him. "Then dream this, too." She laid her mouth 
against his, kissing him with love and passion.
He grinned, folding his arms about her and returning the kiss. Then Jerrany 
cried out, looking upward. As they spun to follow his look, they saw that the 
tower was slowly crumbling. The top eroded, the door through which they had 
entered and departed slammed shut. Behind it they could hear stone falling in a 
long, slow rumble that echoed far into the distance, as if it receded into 
immeasurable dimensions.
"I think it best we leave here," Jerrany muttered.
There was no disagreement with that as they scrambled onto Keplian backs. At a 
steady canter, they swept over the plains toward the mountains. There was no 
hesitation; Romar was not fit to be aught else but abed for a while. They would 
return to the lake keep until his health and strength returned. This they did, 
as Mayrin and Jerrany rode on to the Valley of the Green Silences to make report 
of events and reclaim their children.
They returned with pack ponies and a tail of riders. Eleeri flew out to meet 
them, Romar at her heels. "It's good to see you back, sister. But what's all 
this? Have you looted someone's hold?"
Her sister-to-be laughed. "No, but we paid a visit to my father." She giggled as 
her brother's head came up sharply. "We dropped hints about Romar's wealthy 
bride and how she had lands and a keep. He said that he would not be shamed 
before you. So he—ah—sent a few things as bride gifts."
Eleeri surveyed the pack ponies with awe and amusement. "Just how much of this 
is for us, then?"
Jerrany, too, was smiling widely. "All of it. It isn't as much as it looks, 
mostly bulk rather than riches, but I think you'll find it all useful. The 
ponies should go back, both of them, and you could add a few of those furs of 
yours as a kin-gift in return."
She nodded. The last load she'd brought here had been hides and weapons from the 
ancient keep armory. There were still many furs safely held in the canyon, well 
cured and tanned in a variety of sizes and types. Out here they had little 
value, save to be used. But in the valley, surrounded by more civilized holds 
and holdings where such furs were no longer obtainable, they were of greater 
worth. She could make up a pack of the finest, including several of the rasti 
pelts. That would make eyes open.
Meanwhile, Mayrin had seized her brother's arm. "How are you? Are you completely 
well? You still look pale. Are you eating enough?"
He hugged her. "I am well, I eat like a snowbear, and I will be brown soon 
enough." He turned just in time to catch his balance as an avalanche of two 
children descended upon him. He had been gone almost a year, but neither had 
forgotten their adored uncle. By the time the excitement had died down a little, 
they were all within the main courtyard, helping unload the ponies. Eleeri 
glanced at Mayrin.
"Who are these new people? More to add to your menie?"
"No, to yours. They'll stay here for a few weeks so we can teach them sense 
about the lands. Then those who wish will come on to your keep. Here they can 
also meet the canyon Keplian and see they mean no harm."
Eleeri hesitated. She had never considered that they must do more than continue 
to camp out in the large building. If she would take up the lands, it must be 
run as a proper holding. She sighed softly. Life was about to change again.
Then she drew back her shoulders. The last change had been for the good. She had 
found a land to live in, a mate to love, family, friends, and something to fight 
for rather than against. She would not fear more change. She turned to look at 
Romar as he pulled another bundle from the pony. If all changes brought her such 
joy, then she would run to meet them.
He must have sensed her eyes, for he turned to look at her. Then he handed the 
package to Jerrany and strolled across. His hands gathered her against his 
heart. Eleeri looked up as he bent his head to kiss her. She would not fear 
change. She was a warrior. She would meet it as she had met so many other 
changes these last few years.
And now she would meet nothing alone. Beside her Romar would stand—swordmate, 
shieldmate, and beloved. She smiled, relaxing against him. And in her heart she 
breathed a silent prayer of thanks to the gone-before ones. Their path had in 
the end brought their daughter home.
Thus this story is recorded in the records of Lormt, where word came many months 
later. Strange things come out of the ruined lands of Karsten since the turning. 
This tale is one more. Nor is it likely to be the last. For when powers stir 
deeply, old secrets rise again.