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Authors: Edward W. Robertson
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sight. The area wasn't large, however, and the three of them spent the afternoon wandering back and forth across the rocks, searching for—well, Dante didn't know, precisely. For anything that looked like it might have fallen from the sky in a bed of light.
They encountered nothing that fit that description. Or much of anything , for that matter. The land was too high for life to take hold. The day left Dante exhausted, cold, blistered, and annoyed. He barely had the strength or interest in fashioning them a cave for the night.
"What do you think?" Ast said once they were installed in it and the sun was dying to the west.
"That I'm fifty kinds of tired," Dante said.
"This is the valley where we saw the light touch down."
"I know that."
Ast went silent, profile illuminated by the gentle glow of the torchstone at its lowest. The man had a tendency to ask provocative questions, then lapse into patient silence once you got tired of being led around by the nose. There was something monkish to it. Either that or it was simply the ability to sit in one place for hours on end that becomes inculcated in men who spend most of their days in the wilderness. In a way, this "lead a horse to water" style reminded Dante of Cally. Except the old man had been far more mercurial, flitting from thought to thought like a strider on a stream. And significantly crankier. And not really patient in any way, shape or form, let alone in a monkish fashion. Even so, there were similarities between the two men.
Or there would have been, actually, except that Cally was gone. Lost in service to the war for independence. And for all the power of the Council of Narashtovik, nothing could undo Arawn's summons to the hill below the stars.
Dante sat in the cave entrance, watching the stars of the mortal world twinkle, but no lights came. After a while, he crawled back to the main chamber, which stank with the ripe odor of three travelers who haven't bathed in days.
"We'll have another look around by daylight, then head back," Dante said. "Presuming we aren't devoured by nocturnal monsters."
Ast nodded.
Lew's forehead creased. "Did we see what we came to see?"
"We saw the lights," Dante said. "But if they're telling us something, I don't know what it is. Or what more we can do."
Dante punched his blankets into the least uncomfortable arrangement he could manage and put out the torchstone. He had nearly drifted off when a voice piped up in his ear.
"Er, hello? Hello, Dante?"
Dante jerked awake, heart pounding. Though he had created the object—the loon—now delivering a man's speech to him from a couple hundred miles away, he hadn't used his since the day he and Lew had left Narashtovik. After so much silence, the intrusion hit him with a moment of sheer terror, like turning around to discover you aren't alone.
"I'm here, Nak," he said, failing to purge the annoyance from his voice.
"Far superior to the alternative," his fellow councilman said. "How goes the hunt?"
"It's turning up more questions than answers. Today we were assaulted by a creature I didn't believe in."
"Well, that sounds tremendous. Your life is always so exciting. One of these days, you really must take me on one of your adventures."
"A word of advice, then: prepare your order from the locksmith in advance. After we get home, you'll bar your room and never leave again." Dante glanced across the dark cave where the others slept on. "Is this important, Nak? Or did you just loon me to chat?"
"Oh, it's nothing much." Nak sniffed and shuffled parchments. "We found Blays."
" What? "
Nak chuckled. "Thought that might get your attention."
4
Blays gazed dumbly across the table at the duke. So much work flushed away. Along with what might well be his best chance to crack the foundation of the empire. It was the sort of thing that made him want to give up—but it was important to remain mentally flexible, to acknowledge there were always other solutions. Such as the carving knife
They encountered nothing that fit that description. Or much of anything , for that matter. The land was too high for life to take hold. The day left Dante exhausted, cold, blistered, and annoyed. He barely had the strength or interest in fashioning them a cave for the night.
"What do you think?" Ast said once they were installed in it and the sun was dying to the west.
"That I'm fifty kinds of tired," Dante said.
"This is the valley where we saw the light touch down."
"I know that."
Ast went silent, profile illuminated by the gentle glow of the torchstone at its lowest. The man had a tendency to ask provocative questions, then lapse into patient silence once you got tired of being led around by the nose. There was something monkish to it. Either that or it was simply the ability to sit in one place for hours on end that becomes inculcated in men who spend most of their days in the wilderness. In a way, this "lead a horse to water" style reminded Dante of Cally. Except the old man had been far more mercurial, flitting from thought to thought like a strider on a stream. And significantly crankier. And not really patient in any way, shape or form, let alone in a monkish fashion. Even so, there were similarities between the two men.
Or there would have been, actually, except that Cally was gone. Lost in service to the war for independence. And for all the power of the Council of Narashtovik, nothing could undo Arawn's summons to the hill below the stars.
Dante sat in the cave entrance, watching the stars of the mortal world twinkle, but no lights came. After a while, he crawled back to the main chamber, which stank with the ripe odor of three travelers who haven't bathed in days.
"We'll have another look around by daylight, then head back," Dante said. "Presuming we aren't devoured by nocturnal monsters."
Ast nodded.
Lew's forehead creased. "Did we see what we came to see?"
"We saw the lights," Dante said. "But if they're telling us something, I don't know what it is. Or what more we can do."
Dante punched his blankets into the least uncomfortable arrangement he could manage and put out the torchstone. He had nearly drifted off when a voice piped up in his ear.
"Er, hello? Hello, Dante?"
Dante jerked awake, heart pounding. Though he had created the object—the loon—now delivering a man's speech to him from a couple hundred miles away, he hadn't used his since the day he and Lew had left Narashtovik. After so much silence, the intrusion hit him with a moment of sheer terror, like turning around to discover you aren't alone.
"I'm here, Nak," he said, failing to purge the annoyance from his voice.
"Far superior to the alternative," his fellow councilman said. "How goes the hunt?"
"It's turning up more questions than answers. Today we were assaulted by a creature I didn't believe in."
"Well, that sounds tremendous. Your life is always so exciting. One of these days, you really must take me on one of your adventures."
"A word of advice, then: prepare your order from the locksmith in advance. After we get home, you'll bar your room and never leave again." Dante glanced across the dark cave where the others slept on. "Is this important, Nak? Or did you just loon me to chat?"
"Oh, it's nothing much." Nak sniffed and shuffled parchments. "We found Blays."
" What? "
Nak chuckled. "Thought that might get your attention."
4
Blays gazed dumbly across the table at the duke. So much work flushed away. Along with what might well be his best chance to crack the foundation of the empire. It was the sort of thing that made him want to give up—but it was important to remain mentally flexible, to acknowledge there were always other solutions. Such as the carving knife
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