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Avender shivered on the rocky beach as the gray day crept across the sky. Clouds lay thick on the mountains, covering all but the lowest hills. He stared at what he could see of the western shore through the mist, his teeth chattering, then sat up quickly and looked around as he realized where he was. Longback had brought him back to Nokken Rock. For a moment he feared he might not be alone. Mindrell might still be lurking somewhere among the scattered rocks, or Boney with his wicked knife.
But there were few places to hide on the Rock. Avender soon saw, except for the sheep and a few curious gulls, he had the island to himself. The sheep trotted about quietly in the gray dawn, the birds picked at a dead grayling on the stones. Tiny wavelets rolled in silver curls across the stony beach. Cold though he was, he cast about the island for some sign of what had happened to the bandits and Reiffen during the night, but found nothing. Even their fire was cold, doused completely. All that was left was a strange, foul reek that wafted faintly above the coals.
Crossing to the east side of the island, Avender sat back down on the beach and looked north to the Neck and the Manor. A whitefin nosed through the clear water at his feet, poking at the smooth pebbles. There wasn’t a breath of wind, and the lake was still as glass. No breeze meant it would be canoes coming out from the lower dock to find him, not skiffs. So he hugged his knees close to his chest to keep warm and watched the lake for the first sign of approaching paddlers.
A small, dark head gently broke the surface of the bay. “Ork!” barked Skimmer. “Did you find Reiffen?”
Avender shook his head. “There’s no sign of him, Skim. Did you get Berrel?”
The nokken nodded. The lake rippled around his neck, making the water shimmer in the thin light. “I had to go to Eastbay. No one was at the lower dock. They said they’d tell Berrel.”
Avender rubbed the backs of his arms vigorously to try and warm them up. “How’d you know to come back here to find me?” he asked.
“Where else would you be?” The nokken glided back and forth across the little bay as he spoke. “Longback knew the humans would come here to look for Reiffen. So he brought you here, too.”
“I’m glad you and Longback think alike,” said the boy. “I don’t want to stay out here wet and cold any longer than I have to.”
“Of course we think alike.” Skimmer wrinkled his nose in surprise at Avender’s words. “He’s my pap, remember?”
“Oh, that’s right. I forgot.” As far as Avender was concerned Longback had acted like no father he had ever known. Banishing his own son from the rookery! But Avender also knew nokken family arrangements were different from humans’, and that Longback had to be a bull first before he could be a father.
“It’s too bad he sent you away for helping me,” Avender said.
“I’m not a pup,” said Skimmer proudly. “I catch fish on my own.” He rolled over onto his back and glided close to the beach near his human friend. “I haven’t slept in the rookery since that bad storm in Whitemonth anyway. Longback knew he wasn’t really punishing me. Who wants to stay in a smelly old cave when it’s spring!”
To show how little he cared about his exile, the nokken did several barrel rolls back out into the lake, dove deep, then zoomed abruptly up out of the water to land gracefully on one of the basking rocks along the shore that gave Nokken Rock its name. He gave himself a little shake. Drops of water flew through the air around him.
Avender scooted back across the beach to avoid getting even wetter. “I don’t know how I can ever pay you back for rescuing me,” he said.
Skimmer’s velvet nose and dark eyes gleamed. “You’re my friend. Give me a few pounds of Hern’s salted pike and we’ll call it even. Ferris and Reiffen wouldn’t let me forget it if I let you drown.”
Avender hugged his knees tightly, still feeling cold. He didn’t want to think about Reiffen. Skimmer shook his long neck, ruffling the dark brown fur, and did a little grooming with his nose and teeth. The boy remembered the sticky packet in his pocket, and took it out.
“I don’t have any salted pike,” he said. “But I can give you this.”
He tore the wadded bag open and spread the mostly melted mess out on the rock beside the seal. Skimmer’s eyes brightened even more. With far less dignity than his father, the young nokken lapped up every bit.
The boy looked back at the lake. A pair of dark shapes had emerged from the mist in the direction of the manor. Quickly they grew larger, the rhythmic sound of the paddles growing steadily across the water. Skimmer quickened his eating, then felt about the rock with his whiskers to be sure there was nothing he had missed.
By the time the two large war canoes came racing into the little bay, Skimmer was finished with his treat. He slipped easily off the rock and back into the lake. Humans and nokken might work together now in Valing, but water was always the best place for any finslapper to be when there were more than a few humans around.
The canoes surged to a halt, the lake foaming beneath their bows. Waves rolled across the beach. Before it was fully stopped, Berrel leapt splashing out of the first canoe and hurried ashore. Nolo followed with a large pack and most of the other paddlers. They were all foresters, dressed in the dark green and brown that was as close as foresters came to having a uniform. All were hardy men, long used to days and weeks spent deep in the woods and mountains.
The Dwarf dropped his pack to the ground beside Avender and pulled out a thick blanket and dry clothes. “From Giserre,” he said gruffly.
“Thanks,” said the boy. “Where’s Redburr?”
“He’s already begun his search. He’ll join us soon enough.”
Behind them the foresters fanned out across the island. The sheep bleated anxiously and trotted about in alarm, and all the gulls took wing, complaining shrilly as they disappeared into the lowering sky. Berrel waited long enough for Avender to rub himself dry with the blanket before he asked to hear his tale. The boy told him everything as he dressed, from Mindrell’s meeting them on the stairway to the moment when he was pushed from the cliff. From time to time the steward interrupted with particular questions, but mostly he said nothing. Occasionally he looked up at the gray sky to the east, as if he expected something or someone to appear from out of the clouds. When Avender came to the point where he awoke inside the rookery, the steward held up his hand for him to stop.
“Longback would just as soon you tell me as little about that as possible,” he said.
There was a shout from the spot where Avender had found the fire. “There’s been magic here,” said the chief forester as they came up. He pointed out the stains among the rocks, and the withered look of the scrubby grass that had not been burned. “Some sort of potion, I’d guess. They poured it out on the fire when they were done.”
“Aye, Ranner. I can smell it,” said the Steward. Beside him several of the other foresters sneezed.
“Spells, eh?” Nolo picked through the charred wood with his bare foot. “That means the bear was right. Mindrell works for the Three, not Rimwich.”
“Either way,” said Ranner, “his path is back through the pass and the Firron road. The Shaper will find them there. Here we won’t learn much at all.”
“Those are my thoughts exactly,” said the steward. “And Redburr’s. But if the bear has found anything he should be back by now.”
Berrel looked uneasily up at the sky once more. A sudden gust of wind rolled over them from the south; Nolo tucked his beard into his belt to keep it from flying up into his face.
One of the foresters at the top of the cliff called down to those gathered at the bottom. “Redburr’s coming!” he cried, and pointed toward the eastern sky.
The weak morning light was darkening quickly before the storm, but they could all see the large bird arrowing down toward them from the clouds. A very large bird. Nolo raised his arm stiffly from his shoulder and the bird, fully as tall as the Dwarf himself, descended to the offered perch in a great buffeting of wings and wind. Behind him the rain began to fall on the back of a second, heavier gust. None but Nolo was sturdy enough to hold the Shaper, but the Dwarf, with sinews strong as stone, provided a steady perch. Hard, cruel talons, each as long as a small knife, gripped his arm tightly.
“What news, Redburr?” asked Berrel after the great eagle had folded his wings.
The Shaper turned his head sideways to stare at the steward from one large, glassy eye. Avender had never seen Redburr take anything but bear or human shape before, and found this newest incarnation both interesting and strange. Except for the red tinge to the feathers about his head, there was nothing in the bird to remind anyone of either Redburr the bear or man, though he did seem a bit thicker through the middle than might have been normal for a bird. Even his voice was different, sharp and shrill, as if it was harder for him to speak with his bird’s beak and craw than it was with the muzzle of a bear.
“Cree!” he called. “There’s no sign of them.” It was impossible for him to talk without shrieking. “I flew all the way through the pass and up the road on the other side, both north and south. Even if someone met them with fresh horses they could never have gotten so far.” He fluffed his wings and resettled on Nolo’s arm. “I don’t believe they’ve left Valing that way at all.”
“There’s no other way,” said Berrel with a frown. “The mountains are impassable both south and west, and all the other ways are guarded.”
“There was magic here, Redburr,” said the Dwarf. He pointed to the remains of the fire at their feet. “Perhaps they used that in their escape.”
The bird eyed the coals in his strange, sideways manner. “I’m no expert in spells,” he shrilled. “But if they’ve escaped through some power of Usseis, we’ll be hard pressed to catch them.”
Ranner wiped the rain from his face. “I don’t think they used magic to get away,” he said. “If they did, where are their canoes? They’d have had to leave the canoes behind if they left the Rock some other way.”
“Then let’s search for the canoes,” suggested the Dwarf.
Redburr cocked his head and looked at the sky with his bright bird’s eyes. “I can search from the air, again,” he said. “But this rain will make it harder for me to see. And it’ll take some time to circle the lake.”
“You won’t have to search the whole lake.” Ranner scratched the back of his head and thought for a moment. “They can’t have gotten much farther south than the Narrows even if they paddled all night.”
“But why wouldn’t they just head for the pass?” wondered the Dwarf as he wrung the rain out from the bottom of his beard.
“They might have gone up into the mountains to hide.” Redburr cocked his head toward the Low Bavadars to the east. “Mindrell’s smart enough to know he couldn’t get far enough away before we’d be after him. Who knows what they might have done with their conjuring? They might have changed the boy into a mouse, or worse. For all we know they paddled back to Eastbay, changed themselves into a herd of cows with Mindrell as the cowherd, and are waiting for us to call off the search so they can sneak through the pass when we think they’ve already escaped.”
“They could never hide as cows,” said Berrel. “Strange cows would be noticed at once on any farm.”
Nolo frowned impatiently. “Plainly they’re hiding somewhere. All this talk won’t help us find them.”
“That’s true,” Berrel agreed. “Redburr, you’d better begin your search right away. The rest of us will paddle back across the bay. We’ll raise the Home Guard and search every barn and goat shed in Valing until we find them.”
“What about the western shore?” asked Avender. He had been thinking hard ever since Redburr suggested that Mindrell might be hiding in the mountains. “If you were going to hide, wouldn’t you hide in the opposite direction you thought everyone was going to look?”
Berrel and the others looked at the boy in surprise. Having heard his tale they had all but forgotten him. Ranner rubbed his chin and considered what the boy had suggested. “Well now, I might,” he said, “if that didn’t end up making my eventual escape that much harder. There’s no way out of the High Bavadars except back across the lake. You know that as well as I do, lad. Mindrell won’t want to cross the lake a second time to get away. No, if he’s hiding, it’ll be on the east side of the lake, in the Lows.”
The steward laid a comforting hand on Avender’s shoulder. “You’ve had a long night,” he said, “and too many adventures already. When we rescue Reiffen it’ll be because you persuaded Longback to send Skimmer out to find us. But—”
“Cree!” shrilled Redburr. “It may be unlikely, but the boy has a point. The very fact we’re so ready to dismiss the idea shows the truth in what he says. We’re dealing with the Three, after all. I for one am not ready to ignore any possibility. Ranner, how many trails are there on the western shore that Mindrell could have reached in the time he had?”
The forester scratched the back of his head again. “Only two or three. There’s the High Trail back of Spinner’s place, and Wallin’s behind his. There are a couple others, but you have to know the lake and the mountains pretty good to be using those.”
“We’ll have to check them all,” said Redburr. He turned to the steward. “I’ll fly by Wallin’s and the others on my way to Bracken, and maybe you can send one of the canoes over to Spinner’s to look at the High Trail. Our quarry’s probably on the east side of the lake, but I think we’ll all be happier if we follow up every chance, no matter how remote.”
So it was decided. Redburr nodded to Nolo, who tossed him into the air. The great bird flapped his wings and slowly began to rise south across the lake. Soon he was lost in the mist and rain. The rest of the company returned to the canoes, where Berrel told them off into two parties, one to go on with him to Eastbay, the other for Ranner to lead to Spinner’s Farm. The steward put as many men as he could into the first canoe, wanting to waste as few as possible on what he considered a wild goose chase to the west. When it came time to choose a canoe for Avender, Berrel hesitated for a moment, then sent him off with Ranner.
“It was your idea in the first place,” the steward said. “And I can’t spare the seat in my own craft.”
Deciding he needed to keep an eye on the boy, Nolo climbed into Ranner’s canoe behind him. The four foresters with them hopped in at bow and stern, took up their paddles from where they had been left in the bottom of the boat, and pushed on rapidly across the lake. The rain hissed softly against the flat water around them; the only other sound was the muted knock of the paddles against the canvas sides of the canoe. Avender remembered his last trip across the lake, bound in darkness beneath the thwarts, and wondered if Reiffen had been forced to endure a second silent passage of his own. Or had he really been turned into a mouse and kept quietly in Mindrell’s pocket?
“Nolo?” The boy spoke quietly, his voice almost lost in the rain’s wet whisper.
“What is it, lad?”
“How did Mindrell use magic? I thought only the Wizards could use magic.”
“Others can cast spells and potions,” Nolo replied. “But only if one of the Three prepares the way for them.” He sat stiffly in the middle of the canoe, hardly moving. Rainwater sloshed around his legs. Should the Dwarf fall overboard Avender knew they would be a long time fishing him up from the lake bottom. “The Three guard their knowledge closely. But I’m told there have been times when they’ve trusted their slaves to do some small act of thaumaturgy for them.”
“You mean anyone can do it?”
“If they have the knowledge.”
“Even Dwarves?”
“No, lad. Dwarves can’t. We’re the children of Brydds, not Areft. Magic doesn’t affect us, and we can’t do magic. Not that any Bryddin has ever tried to brew a spell, far as I know. It’s not a good thing, magic. Far too dangerous. Stone and water are what we trust.”
“I hope Mindrell hasn’t done anything too horrible to Reiffen,” said the boy.
“Don’t worry,” Nolo assured him. “We’ll find him.”
At Spinner’s dock Ranner left Avender behind to look after the canoe while he led the others ashore to inspect the farm. They were greeted by Spinner’s dogs, who barked ferociously until Ranner approached them closely enough to be recognized. Avender sat on the dock with his feet in the canoe while the foresters hunted along the road toward the meadows above for any sign of Mindrell’s passing. But the rain had already washed away whatever footprints might have been pressed into the soft dirt, and they found nothing. Nolo, who had no woodcraft at all, made his own search through the barns and farmhouse.
Most of the dogs followed the foresters, sniffing curiously, but one noticed Avender on the dock and trotted out to see what he was doing.
“Hello, Odo. Sorry, but I’ve nothing to give you today.”
Avender scratched behind the dog’s ears and under her chin. He and Reiffen had made friends with Spinner’s dogs a long time since, just in case they ever had the opportunity to visit Enna Spinner’s sugarhouse by night. The dog lay down contentedly on the dock beside the boy, not minding the wet at all if it meant a good scratching.
Avender was watching the raindrops on the water when Skimmer reappeared, his dark head emerging from the lake beside the canoe with hardly a ripple. Odo started to her feet and barked loudly at the newcomer, but Skimmer paid the dog no mind.
“Did you find Reiffen?” he asked again.
Avender shook his head. “He’s probably on the other side of the lake, Skim, high in the pass.”
“Then why’re you looking here?”
Avender rocked the canoe slightly with his feet. “Because we have to look everywhere, just in case.”
“I’ll help.”
“Sure, Skim. If you find their canoes let me know.”
“Canoes?” Skimmer stopped swimming back and forth and rolled over onto his back. “What kind of canoes?”
“Regular canoes,” replied the boy glumly. He was almost as wet again now as he had been after his ride with Longback. “From Eastbay. If we find the canoes, then at least we’ll know where they’ve gone.”
Skimmer rolled back onto his belly and slipped underwater. His dark shape darted like a shadow beneath the large canoe. But he was back a moment later.
“There’s two canoes under the dock,” he said eagerly when he resurfaced. “Are they the ones you’re looking for?”
“I don’t think...” Avender stopped as he realized what the nokken had just said. “Two canoes? Under the dock?” He scrambled to his knees to peer through the dark water beneath the wooden boards. “Are they old?”
“I don’t know how old they are,” said Skimmer. “I just know there’s two of them.”
Try as he might, Avender couldn’t see through the water beneath the dock. He looked back up at his friend. “You’re sure there are two?”
“I can count, you know.”
“What’s keeping them down?”
“Maybe it’s because they’re filled with rocks.”
Avender didn’t wait to hear any more. He was sure the canoes were Mindrell’s. He jumped up to his feet and began calling toward shore, waving for the foresters to return. Skimmer swam off a little further into the lake as Nolo and the men came rattling back out onto the wooden pier. They got down on their knees beside the boy after he told them what the nokken had found.
“They have to be the ones we’re looking for,” said one. “No one sinks canoes for nothin’.”
“We have to be certain.” Ranner started to remove his jacket.
“I’ll go,” said the Dwarf, getting to his feet. “I can empty the rocks out of those canoes much faster than any of you can.”
He stepped right off the side of the pier and plunged feet first into the water, sending up a tremendous splash. Avender and the foresters gathered around the edge and peered unsuccessfully into the depths to see how he was doing. Even Skimmer came dashing back to the dock to see if he could help, hurtling through the water like a bird.
A minute passed. The dull clank of stone rose dimly from below, but no one could see a thing. Skimmer tore back and forth around the dock. Then a water-logged canoe rolled slowly up out of the water to wallow sluggishly beside the pier, and a second soon followed.
“Those are Eastbay canoes.”
“And they ain’t been down there long, either, or they wouldn’t float so easy.”
Nolo followed the canoes to the surface, climbing back up one of the pilings to the top of the dock. Water poured off him as he conferred with Ranner.
“We’ll have to start after them at once,” the Dwarf said.
“Aye.” The chief forester peered through the rain back to the road behind the farmhouse that led up Breadloaf Hill. “They’ve got a fair start on us, too. Five, six hours easy.”
“All the more reason for hurry,” said Nolo.
“We’ll have to send someone back to let Berrel know we’re on the trail. That only leaves four of us to go after five, not counting the boy.”
“One of our’s is a Dwarf, though,” said one of the foresters.
“We can send the boy back to the others with word of what we’ve found,” said Ranner.
Nolo noticed the look on Avender’s face. “No” he said. “Let him come with us. Searching the western shore was his idea, and he found the canoes, too.”
“Actually, it was Skimmer who found the canoes,” said Avender.
“Either way, you’ve earned the chance to come with us. We can send Skimmer back instead. He’ll do it faster than any canoe.”
Ranner eyed the boy grimly. “It’ll be a hard climb,” he said. “We’ve a lot of time to make up, too. We can’t be waiting for laggards.”
“He can do it. Can’t you, lad?”
Avender nodded, though he was not at all sure he could keep up with foresters on the march. But he would much rather collapse on the trail than be left behind.
There was no more discussion. Skimmer received his instructions and darted back into the lake. Then the four men, the Bryddin, and the boy hurried from the dock back to the farm. They made a short stop in Mother Spinner’s larder to scavenge a few provisions for the road, presuming Mother Spinner would approve, once she learned the reason. Avender hoped they might find a bag or two of candy as well, and assured himself that Reiffen would really appreciate such a homely treat when they found him. But Mother Spinner had taken all she had to the feast, and there were no more anywhere. Nolo did find a small cask, though, which he strapped to the top of his pack. That prize he had no intention of preserving until Reiffen was found.
It was a wet, cold climb, and Ranner drove them hard. The rain persisted as they slogged along the mountain road, which soon turned from path to stream beneath their boots. The muddy way led up through the lower pasture, where the Spinner cows were gathered placidly beneath a single oak in the middle of the field, and on to the upper meadows, where the huddled sheep had the fluffy look of fallen clouds. Beyond the sheep the wooded slopes began. Instead of the steady hiss of the rain on the grass, there was now the gloomy patter of thick drops striking the bare branches of the trees.
Quickly the path grew steeper and rougher. Beyond the farm the road was rarely used. Foresters on their patrols might travel through the mountains around the lake, but seldom would anyone else venture too deep among the lofty crags. Beyond a day or two’s journey little was known of the mountains. There were strange tales about the High Bavadars, close though they might be to Valing. Strange storms that never troubled the lake could sometimes be seen scowling blackly above the farther peaks; and strange creatures were thought to hide in the most secret valleys behind the highest passes.
An hour’s march brought them deep within the clouds. On a clear day they might have looked back and seen all the wide northern part of the lake spread below them, from Spinner’s to Eastbay, sparkling and blue. But now, with the clouds settled thick upon the mountain, they could see little beyond the path beneath their feet and the jabbing fingers of the storm.
They were already far higher than Avender had ever been on the west side of the lake, when they came to a scraggly fir by the side of the trail. A large, brown shape was perched upon one of the higher branches, which sagged almost to the ground beneath its weight. Only when they had come closer through the screening mist did they recognize Redburr’s bird-shape in the sodden lump.
“So you found us,” said Ranner.
“There’s only the one path past the Teapot,” squawked Redburr. His feathers were heavy and wet; he looked as bedraggled as a bird could be.
“That’s fair truth,” the forester agreed. “Though we’ve seen little enough sign of our quarry along the trail. There’s no other way they might have come.”
The bird swept down on wide wings to alight on the small cask tied atop Nolo’s pack.
“Watch your talons, there,” warned the Dwarf. “We don’t want to be drinking that just yet.”
Not five minutes later they passed a low, pine thicket by the side of the path. Redburr called for them to stop, his voice shrill even through the blanketing rain. Then he turned to the shrubbery and gave a piping call. For a moment nothing happened. He repeated the cry and a pair of finches poked their heads up from the short-needled boughs to trill a reply. Redburr answered, and the conversation sang back and forth, the finches obviously nervous to be speaking with an eagle. Several times they tried to duck their heads back down into the green cover, only to be called back to the task at hand by the sharp whistling of the larger bird. When they were done Redburr allowed them to return to their nest, then turned back to his companions.
“It’s not easy speaking songbird when you’re a raptor,” he cawed. He shook his head as he spoke, as if to clear it. A fine spray spattered off his feathers.
“I did learn the birds saw the bandits,” he went on. “They passed by here in the night, close before dawn.”
“Did they see Reiffen?” asked Avender hopefully.
“Finches can’t tell one human from the next. They can’t even count. But there’s no one else who might have been up here so early in the morning. You can be sure we’re on the right trail.”
“At least they haven’t gotten themselves up as pike or something, and dived back into the lake,” said Nolo. He wrung out his beard once again and, for a moment, the stream at their feet thickened across the stones.
On through the mud and rain they trudged. Redburr rode atop Nolo’s cask rather than try to fly through the storm, bobbing like a cork with every one of the Dwarf’s short strides. As they climbed higher into the mountains the rain lightened but the clouds thickened. Often they were unable to see more than a few feet on either side of the trail. Sometimes the rain turned to snow and swirled fiercely around their heads; but the snow never lasted long, and the ground was too wet for any of the flakes to stick. They hurried onward, regardless of the weather, until Avender thought his legs would fail beneath him. But he was determined to prove Nolo’s confidence in his ability to keep up, so he gritted his teeth and made no complaint.
Toward the end of the day they came out of the trees into the gray and stony wastes of the higher peaks. The wind strengthened; now the constant snow was driven into their faces or lashed against their backs as they plodded on. When darkness fell they hardly noticed, it had been twilight so long. But finally they were in danger of losing their way in the deepening gloom, or stumbling off the sides of unseen cliffs, so Ranner called a halt in a small hollow filled with stunted trees. All sank wearily to the ground.
They cleared a space beneath the rough needles and lay with their heads on their packs, the gnarled wood at the heart of the tiny copse too wet for even Nolo to start a fire. Avender had no pack, but he had the blanket Nolo had brought for him that morning. The Dwarf had kept it dry through all the day’s long climb. The boy wrapped himself as snugly as he could and was almost warm by the time Ranner shared out a round of the dried meat and bread they had brought from the farm. Nolo passed the small barrel among them as well, which made them all feel warmer still, except Redburr, who couldn’t manage a proper drink with his bird’s beak. After knocking over the third cup set out for him, he cursed bitterly and flapped his wings.
“If I didn’t think you’d need me as a bird tomorrow,” he grumbled, “I’d go back to being a bear right now. A whole cask of lovely beer.”
All but Avender and Redburr took their turn on guard, listening for real danger in the howls and shrieks of the windy night. The boy slept far more soundly than he could ever have imagined on the cold and muddy ground. Near dawn he dreamed of bandits and nokken and bards. They chased him through pool-filled caverns where the ceilings grew lower and lower until finally they were so low he was forced to crawl forward on hands and knees. When nothing was left for him but to fall forward into one of the pools and sink slowly downward into the darkness, he scrabbled for breath, then woke, panting in the night. For a moment he thought he was back in the rookery, with all the nokken snoring around him. Then he smelled the fresh scent of the scrubby pines rather than old fish and dank fur, and remembered that a long day had passed. It was mostly humans snoring around him now. He was still wet and shivering, but this time he was high in the mountains instead of deep inside a watery cave. He reached out cautiously and felt something soft nearby.
“Brawwk! Is that you boy?”
Somehow Redburr’s voice sounded more like it should in the dark, despite the squawk.
“It’s me,” Avender replied.
“Go back to sleep. It’ll be another long day soon.”
“Has the storm stopped?” Water no longer dripped from the trees, and the roaring of the wind had disappeared.
“The snow stopped some time ago, and the wind just died. I should have fine flying today. Now go back to sleep.”
“Will we catch them soon?”
“We’ll see.”
Avender closed his eyes thinking he was wide awake. When he opened them again he could see every crooked branch clearly in the thicket above his face, and the rest of the company were scrambling awake around him. Ranner passed around another bite of food and then they pushed their way out through the stiff wood to stretch their legs on the clear ground outside. Only a little snow lay upon the gray stone. The rest had already melted or blown away. Sharp peaks rose toward the pale sky, the last storm clouds and lingering stars sharing the space between.
They marched off as the mountain morning threw long shadows across the land. Avender’s sore muscles soon loosened, but it took longer for the brisk wind to drive the last dampness from his clothes. At the first ridge with a strong breeze Redburr left them, leaping upward into the wind from the top of the Dwarf’s head. For a while the Shaper soared above the long valley, searching for the rising air that would help him ascend. His companions watched him glide with widespread wings as they followed their own path across the arms and shoulders of the mountain, until he found the current he sought and wheeled away. Soon he was a black speck in the distance, disappearing between tall crests of rock and snow that gleamed in the golden light of the new day.
Nolo put a kind hand on Avender’s shoulder as they watched the Shaper pass out of sight. “Ready for another day, lad?” he asked. “You’re not tiring on us, are you?”
“I can do it,” answered the boy stubbornly. “Reiffen’s still somewhere up ahead of us, isn’t he?”
Ranner led them on. They had long since lost any trace of the bandits. Their only hope now was that Redburr would be able to spot their quarry from the air with his sharp eagle’s eyes. In the meantime they could do no more than follow the chief forester deeper into the western mountains.
The day grew warm. The last shreds of the clouds scattered among the jagged peaks. They climbed slopes of broken rock and picked their way carefully over valleys of pitted ice and snow. Pools of water filled the hollows and everywhere ticked the drip, drip, drip of ice loosened by spring. Twice they saw nimble mountain goats watching them from impossible ledges, but the morning was well advanced before Redburr reappeared. They were toiling along the side of a long ridge, steep cliffs on either hand, when he dropped like a stone from the cold blue heights. He swooped in a long slow turn above the valley to their left before landing once again on the top of Nolo’s pack.
“I’ve found them!” he cried in his bird’s hoarse croak. A gleam of satisfaction shone brightly in his eye. “They’re still heading west, but you’re not too far from their trail. They took a different way around that mountain ahead of us.”
Ranner nodded grimly. “They must have gone south on the ice field yesterday. Not a course I’d take in a thaw. How far behind are we?”
“About two hours. At the rate they’re going, you should be able to catch them by the end of the day.”
“Can you tell where they’re headed?”
The feathers on Redburr’s neck and shoulders ruffled in the wind. “Not yet. But they’ve come a long way if all they want to do is go to ground.”
One of the foresters gave the bird an unhappy look. “You mean you think they’re trying to cross right through the range?”
“It can’t be done,” said Ranner firmly.
“It has been done.” Redburr gave the chief forester a sharp look. “I’ve done it myself, and not as a bird. But it was a long time ago, and I’m afraid I don’t remember as much about the way as I should.”
“If we’re going to catch Mindrell by the end of the day,” observed the Dwarf, “it hardly matters how far they’re going. Gabbing about it just slows us down.”
“Did you see Reiffen?” broke in Avender, unable to contain himself any longer from asking what he considered the most important question. “Is he all right?”
Redburr cocked a glassy eye. “I saw him, boy. He seemed to be dodging most of their kicks, as far as I could tell. But there are only four of the bandits now, counting the bard.”
“Four?” Nolo tugged at his beard and turned to Avender. “Didn’t you say there were five, lad?”
“There were,” answered the boy. “Maybe Reiffen killed one.”
“Cree! It’d be nice if he had, wouldn’t it?” croaked the bird.
“More likely he fell through the cracks in the ice field,” said Ranner. “It’s a dangerous path when the bridges start to melt. That’s why we’re headed for the Girdle.”
“The Girdle?” Nolo pulled at his beard.
Ranner nodded. “It looks bad, but Chimneyline and the Chutes are both worse. Long as the ledges hold the Girdle’s all right. And it’s faster than the ice field on the other side. I’ll rope us all together and we’ll be safe as picnickers on Baldun. But the Girdle marks the end of my knowledge of the mountains. After that we’ll be following your lead, Redburr.”
There was nothing to do but press on as quickly as possible. Redburr took flight once more, leading them over the top of the ridge. Two hours’ hike was no more than a few minutes’ flying time for an eagle, and Redburr could flit back and forth between both parties with ease. They ascended on up the line of the ridge until they came to a place where their path seemed to fall off impassably into the valley below.
“There.” Ranner pointed to the side of the mountain. “That’s the Girdle.”
At first Avender saw nothing. The trail appeared to end at the edge of the cliff before them. To their left the mountain towered huge and gray. Then he noticed a thin ridge of rock, wider in some places than others, winding across the middle of the mountainside. Redburr circled in the air above, but there were other birds wheeling through the sky below the slender path.
“That?” Nolo laughed at the sight of the narrow ledge. “That’s nothing. You want a climb sometime, Ranner, come with me to Issinlough. When you’ve clung by your fingers and toes to the bottom of the world, then you’ve had a real taste of climbing.”
“Wasn’t me as said it was hard,” replied the forester.
Several of his fellows pulled lengths of rope from their packs and soon everyone in the party, except the eagle, was tied together. Cautiously they started across the ledge. Avender found out soon enough that Ranner was right. The climb was not as hard as it looked. In some spots the ledge was two or three feet wide. Even at its thinnest there was still room for his entire foot to rest securely on the rock. In a howling wind and a storm like the one they had fought through the day before there would be real danger; but for the moment the only problem was that the ledge was broken in spots. And there were places where one ledge ended outright and they had to step over a fair-sized gap to reach the next. But Ranner and his fellows knew their business, and there was always Nolo bringing up the rear. With his strength and ability to grab onto the rock as if it were so much soft cheese, he was safer than the firmest anchor. “Dwarves don’t fall,” he always said. “How else could we live on top of the Abyss?”
The only bad moment came when Ranner stopped to test a bit of rock in front of him. Avender was halfway back along the line, safely anchored in the middle of the more experienced climbers; but the curve in the side of the mountain gave him a fine view as the chief forester took the long hammer from the loop on the back of his pack and tapped its thin head gently on the edge of the rock just beyond his toe. There was a crack, and a large piece of stone broke away to tumble down the slope. Other rock broke free below as the first bounded down the cliff, and all disappeared into the distant valley in a shower of gravel and dust. Redburr, who had been soaring nearby, swept in close to the mountain, as if he thought he might have to grab the forester in his talons. But Ranner was holding fast to the rope behind him with his free hand and stepped back quickly onto more solid footing without the slightest hesitation. A new gap was opened in the ledge, neither smaller nor larger than the rest. Carefully Ranner tested the new edge. When he was satisfied that it was firmer than the old, he stepped across it. The company moved on.
The rest of the day’s march was much easier. Beyond the Girdle they untied themselves and followed the eagle up through another pass with the wind in their faces. They descended to another snowfield, and so on through several more passes, always climbing, as they advanced deeper into the High Bavadars. Now they found many traces of the bandits’ passage: steps cut into the ice; footprints in the snow.
Even so, the afternoon had worn away by the time they climbed over the edge of one last ice field and followed its frothing runoff down to a steep, tree-filled valley. The sun was settling behind the western peaks as the Shaper urged them on, afraid they might not catch Mindrell before nightfall after all. By the time they reached the trees an ominous cloud had rolled in from the north above their heads like a spreading tide. Wearily they stumbled across the stones to a place where the stream met another, smaller brook flowing down from the direction of the looming storm.
“Cree! This way,” called Redburr from a perch at the top of a tree above the second stream. “Hurry!” He watched for a moment as Ranner led the tired party up this new steep course. Then, with a flap of his wings, he launched himself back into the air and flew over the treetops beyond. A clap of thunder rang out through the valley. Close behind burst a sudden gust of wind. The thinner trees in the woods around them shuddered before the blast.
“That’s no common storm,” muttered the forester nearest Avender.
Nolo quickened his pace and began to leap quickly among the boulders after Redburr. The foresters, not to be outdone by a Dwarf in their own mountains, summoned the last of their strength to follow him. But they were no match for Nolo’s endurance no matter how much longer their legs, and he soon outdistanced them. Avender, who had been in the middle of the company, found himself lagging to the rear no matter how hard he tried to keep up. He was young and sturdy but, unlike the men around him, had not spent the days of his life in constant climbing among the peaks and crags. The thunder rose and the stream began to chatter more and more loudly along its stony banks. The boy fell farther and farther behind.
Darkness dropped down across the mountainside as the storm swept over the trees. Branches rattled, first in the wind, then in the rain. Avender stumbled on into the teeth of the storm, his cloak lashing around him far more fiercely than it had the day before. Soon he found he could no longer safely follow the brook. The stream was rising quickly as every drop of rain from the valley above was channeled into the flow at his feet. He clambered up the nearest bank and continued on through the trees, but his progress slowed considerably as he had to make his way around every fallen branch and straining sapling.
The storm grew more and more ferocious. Finally there was a great clap of thunder, louder than any Avender had ever heard. The storm broke, its anger released in that single stroke. All was quiet again, except for the sodden pouring of the rain and the rush of the swollen stream. Avender almost fell on his face as the wind out of the north ceased abruptly. He hurried forward, though the urgency of the moment seemed to have collapsed as suddenly as the storm. The earth sucked wetly at his boots.
He came at last to a short cliff. Such was the torrent now, there was barely room to climb beside it. Somehow he managed to pull himself over the top, half-drowned and at the end of his strength. He stumbled on through the last of the woods to a meadow of thick grass. Scattered before him, he saw the foresters combing the field as if in search of something. The shorter figure of Nolo glowed in a thin light beyond a circle of tall stones that stood to the left of the stream. As Avender watched, the Dwarf bent down beside something hidden in the grass.
The boy hurried on. Heavy rain beat at him coldly. He noticed two figures that were not foresters, and when he realized they were being guarded by one of Ranner’s men, his heart leapt at the sight of them. They had caught the bandits! Reiffen was rescued!
Avender hastened on through the gloom toward the lighted spot in the grass where he had last seen Nolo.