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seated and ate some more food.   The song of the wind rose in pitch and a storm began out at sea.   I asked Dave about big doglike creatures, and he told me that packs of them would probably be feasting on the battle’s victims tonight.   They were native to the area.
    “We divide the spoils,” he said.   “I want the rations, the wine and any valuables.   They just want the dead.”
    “What good are the valuables to you?” I said.
    He looked suddenly apprehensive, as if I were considering the possibility of robbing him.
    “Oh, it don’t really amount to much.   It’s just that I’ve always been a thrifty person,” he said, “and I make it sound more important than it is.   You never can tell,” he added.
    “That’s true,” I agreed.
    “How’d you get here anyway, Merle?” he asked quickly, as if to get my mind off the subject of his loot.
    “Walked,” I said.
    “That don’t sound right.   Nobody comes here willingly.”
    “I didn’t know I was coming here.   Don’t think I’ll be staying long either,” I said, as I saw him take up the small knife and begin toying with it.   “No sense going below and begging after hospitality at a time like this.”
    “That’s true,” he remarked.
    Was the old coot actually thinking of attacking me, to protect his cache? He could be more than a little mad by now, living up here alone in his stinking cave, pretending to be a saint.
    “Would you be interested in returning to Kashfa,” I said, “if I could set you on the right trail?”
    He gave me a crafty look.   “You don’t know that much about Kashfa,” he said, “or you wouldn’t have been asking me all those questions.   Now you say you can send me home?”
    “I take it you’re not interested?”
    He sighed.   “Not really, not any more.   It’s too late now.   This is my home.   I enjoy being a hermit.”
    I shrugged.   “Well, thanks for feeding me, and thanks for all the news.”
    I got to my feet.
    “Where are you going now?” he asked.
    “I think I’ll look around some, then head for home.” I backed away from that small lunatic glow in his eyes.
    He raised the knife, his grip tightened on it.   Then he lowered it and cut another piece of cheese.
    “Here, you can take some of the cheese with you if you want,” he said.
    “No, that’s okay.   Thanks.”
    “Just trying to save you some money.   Have a good trip.”
    “Right.   Take it easy.”
    I heard his chuckling all the way back to the trail.   Then the wind drowned it.
    I spent the next several hours reconnoitering.   I moved around in the hills.   I descended into the steaming, quaking lands.   I walked along the seashore.   I passed through the rear of the normal-seeming area and crossed the neck of the ice field.   In all of this, I stayed as far from the Keep itself as possible.   I wanted to fix the place as firmly in mind as I could, so that I could End my way back through Shadow rather than crossing a threshold the hard way.   I saw several packs of wild dogs on my journey, but they were more intent upon the battle’s corpses than anything that moved.
    There were oddly inscribed boundary stones at each topographical border, and I found myself wondering whether they were mapmakers’ aids or something more.   Finally, I wrestled one from the burning land over about fifteen feet into a region of ice and snow.   I was knocked down almost immediately by a heavy tremor; I was able to scramble away in time, however, from the opening of a crevice and the spewing of geysers.   The hot area claimed that small slice of the cold land in less than half an hour.   Fortunately, I moved quickly to get out of the way of any further turmoil, and I observed the balance of these phenomena from a distance.   But there was more to come.
    I crouched back among the rocks, having reached the foothills of the range from which I had started by crossing through a section of the volcanic area.   There, I rested