Barb Hendee: Rebel Fay

The Mondyalitko had told them to seek a passage along a deep ravine. Once they passed through, they would be able to see the castle.

Only three nights past, Chane's wild dog familiar had found the way, though calling it a ravine was an understatement. It was a deep and jagged canyon impossible to climb down, and its bottom was filled with snow-blanketed rocky crags. After its discovery, Welstiel behaved like an obsessed madman, driving them hard up through the mountains.

Chane halted. Going on was useless if they could not see. He was about to insist they pitch the tent when a long howl and yammering barks carried on the wind from somewhere ahead.

"The dog!" Welstiel shouted over the wind.

Chane was in no mood for Welstiel's premature elation. "Wait!"

He dropped to sit in the cold snow and closed his eyes, reaching out for his familiar's thoughts. When he found his way into its limited mind, he saw through the dog's eyes.

At first, his sight was obscured by snow slanting through the dark as the dog scrambled forward. Then the animal halted at the edge of a precipice. Chane looked down through its eyes into a gorge at the canyon's top end, and vertigo overwhelmed him. The dog stood on a flat rock overhang, digging through loose snow.

"What has it found?" Welstiel asked desperately.

"I do not know… something." He opened his eyes reluctantly and stood up."Upward… ahead."

Chane took the lead, holding the dog's thoughts to sense the way. When he spotted the animal's tracks already fading under the blizzard, he released the connection and picked up his pace. Ahead he thought he saw where the canyon's upper end spiked downward into the rocky range. Upon its near side, something dug wildly in the snow.

Chane trudged quickly up and dropped beside the dog. He looked down with his own eyes to where the canyon opened into a deep gorge too wide to see its far side. He began digging by hand, clearing snow from the ledge until he exposed a piece of flat slate that did not match the ledge's basalt stone. The piece was half the length of his body and smoothly fitted to the ledge's edge-except for a hole to one side just large enough for a hand. Chane cleared the opening with his fingers and lifted the slate panel.

Welstiel hovered above him as they looked down.

Snow-covered ledges-wide steps-were carved into the gorge wall, though Chane could not be sure in the blizzard if they went all the way to the unseen bottom.

Welstiel examined the piece of slate. "This was intended to hide the pas-sage:

"I do not think so.More likely a marker to find it or perhaps shield the first steps from erosion. This path is used regularly by someone, for it took much work to carve it out, crude as it is. Let us hope it leads somewhere useful, though we will have to abandon the horse."

Welstiel stared into space. "The Mondyalitko said we would step out to see the castle. It has to be down there somewhere… it must be."

Between the darkness and the storm, Chane had no way of telling if this was true, and he was sick of blind optimism. "Do we try tonight or wait until we have more time tomorrow?"

"Now," Welstiel answered instantly, and pulled their packs from the horse. "Move on. We leave the dog as well."

Again, Chane had no voice in their decisions, and his anger seethed quietly. But he held his tongue. Perhaps they were close to Welstiel's coveted orb, and once they found it, Chane might give Welstiel a surprise or two of his own.

Chane braced a hand against the steep rock wall and took two steps downward, peering below. He saw nothing through the blizzard-noteven the gorge's bottom, nor its far side. Snowflakes slanting across the night seemed to materialize out of the dark. The lower he went, the more the wind lessened, until the snow drifted lazily downward.

Behind and above him, Chane heard Welstiel's boots scrape the steps.

Sgaile headed for the third oak upstream from the docks, eager to be with his family once more and away from all others. He pulled the doorway drape aside, and there sat his grandfather, Gleanneohkan'thva, upon an umber felt throw as he wrote with quill on parchment.

"Where is Leanalham?" Sgaile asked.

"She went to find a few things for our journey," his grandfather replied. "It will be an early start. Will you come with us?"

Sinking down, Sgaile untied his cloak and lifted the clay teapot from its tray.

"I must first see Leshil and his companions safely off, then I will come home for a while. I wish to bring Osha with me-with your consent. Except for his training, I am considering a request to be relieved of duties for the remainder of winter… perhaps longer."

His grandfather looked up, puzzled, but merely patted his shoulder." Osha is always welcome. And it would be good to have you home for a while."

Sgaile poured tea into one of the round cups and turned its warmth slowly between his palms.

Indeed, to have a little peace once again, even into the spring. Time to reflect on many things he had not been aware of before today. Strange animosity existed between Brot'an'duive and Most Aged Father-a revered Greimasg'ah and the founder of their caste.A rift that apparently had grown silently over time. Frethfare as well had some part in it, for her ardor in challenge had raised Sgaile's awareness in the worst of ways.

He sipped the tea slowly, but it brought him no comfort.

Leanalham fell through the door, breathing hard."Sgailsheilleache! Come-quickly!"

He set the cup down, grabbed her hand, and pulled her inside. "What? Are you injured?"

"No…" She gasped in another deep breath. "Urhkarasiferin gave me dried figs for our journey, and in returning, I saw Frethfare outside En’nish’s quarters. They did not see me, but I heard part of what they said. They go north after Leshil and Brot'an'duive."

Sgaile sat back, whispering to himself. "Leshil has gone to tell Cuir-in'nen'a."

"Tell her what?" his grandfather asked.

Sgaile carne back to himself."Most Aged Father has released Cuirin'nen'a. She is forgiven. Leshil and his companions must have gone to tell her." He looked at Leanalham. "Brot'an'duive is with them, and Frethfare follows after?"

"Yes," she cried. "And En’nish. But I do not believe Brot'an'duive knows they follow."

Sgaile carefully set down his cup.

"They spoke of not spilling the blood… of their own." Leanalham's voice quavered. "But why would they need to? And something in Frethfares voice… she only mentioned Brot'an'duive-not Leshil or his companions! Why would she say this to En’nish?"

Sgaile stood up, rapidly tying the corners of his cloak. His first instinct was to go directly to Most Aged Father, but if Frethfare actedon her own, this would only cause more discord.

"I will find Leshil first," he said. "I will uncover what is happening."

"I am coming with you," Gleanneohkan'thva said.

"No, I must run."

"Are you suggesting that I cannot keep up? Your caste is at odds with itself. You need a clan elder, and I am the closest you have." He turned to Leanalham. "Do not leave our quarters, and do not tell anyone where we have gone. If asked, we have gone to gather supplies for the trip."

Leanalham nodded quickly."Hurry!"

Gleanneohkan'thva donned his cloak, not waiting for Sgaile's agreement.

"Stay behind me," he told his grandfather. Perhaps he would need the voice of an elder.

They left the oak, running along the river to the open forest, rather than through Crijheaiche.

Magiere ran beside Leesil, and a part of her still doubted such sudden good fortune. Their journey into her own past in Droevinka had uncovered horrific circumstances surrounding her birth. Their passage through the warlands and Leesil's past in Venjetz had only led to anguish and murder.