For the first time, Eliseth wondered whether she had been wise to have left the Horsefolk unconquered; a potential enemy at her back. Then she shrugged.—How foolish, to let panic cloud her thinking. After all, since the forest settlement had been taken, she had hostages that the Mage held dear. She made a mental note to discover the identities of Eliizar and Nereni when the slaves arrived.
“So—let Aurian come,” Eliseth muttered venomously. “I’ll be ready.”
By traveling at night, Chiamh and his companions succeeded in completing their journey unseen. Hiding each dawn in one of the sparse stands of timber that dotted the otherwise featureless plains, they kept an uneasy watch in turns throughout the daylight hours, while the others rested. It had been a wearying, cold, and hungry journey. The Xandim were luckier than the humans, cats, and Wolf, for they could graze, at least, but Zanna had been able to furnish little in the way of rations for the others.
Just as Aurian had hoped, they arrived on the upper slopes of the Wyndveil on the third night, just before dawn. Though they were almost certain they had not been spotted from the Fastness, Chiamh deemed it wisest to get everyone out of the sky and under cover before the sun came up, so he searched for a current of gleaming air that dipped sharply, and, with Schiannath and Iscalda hard on the Windeye’s heels, the horses and riders swooped down like striking hawks into the Vale of Death, where the Chamber of Winds speared the heavens.—Though Chiamh had long ago convinced himself that he and the Xandim were done with each other for good, he was astonished to find himself deeply moved by the first sight, blurred and vague though it was, of his old home. As his hooves touched lightly down on the stretch of short, soft turf in front of the soaring pinnacle of rock, he could scarcely wait for Aurian and Grince to dismount, so that he could change back to his human form. Without waiting for the others, he ran into the cavern at the spire’s foot.
Within, he found the devastation of years’ neglect. His blankets and furs had been eaten away by mildew, and his scanty belongings had been scattered and gnawed by wild animals, who had decorated the floor with piles of droppings as abundant evidence of their tenancy. Chiamh was suddenly grateful to Parric for teaching him some new curses while they stayed together in the Nightrunner caverns.
“Windeye! I have never heard such language! Do you not know that all wild creatures are the little children of the goddess?”
“Then Iriana should teach them better manners . . .” Chiamh began; then he recognized the voice. “Basileus?”
“Indeed—and who did you expect? Well met, little Windeye. I have never been so delighted to see any living creature in all the endless ages of my existence.—But where have you been? Why did you stay away so long?” Abruptly, all the joy left the Moldan’s voice. “There is much that you should know, my friend.—Events of considerable gravity have transpired here, these last few years....”
Not again, Chiamh thought. Lately, life seemed to consist of nothing but evil tidings and dire events. In that moment, he became aware that he was phenomenally hungry, dirty, and cold—and so weary that he felt about a thousand years old.
“Rest then,” the Moldan said kindly. “I forget the frailties of you flesh-and-blood folk. My news has waited almost ten years—it will keep a little longer.”
Just then Aurian entered, and viewed the scene with a low whistle of dismay.
“Seven bloody demons!”
“Greetings, Wizard.”
“Oh—greetings, Basileus.” The Mage inclined her head respectfully, though there was no point in looking in any particular direction—not when the Moldan was the entire mountain. “It’s good to be back again. We have a great deal to tell you.”
“And I, you. But settle yourselves first I will wait.”
Shia entered the cavern and sniffed. “Squirrels,” she said decisively, wrinkling her nose. “Rats and a family of foxes.”
Chiamh looked around grimly at the devastation. “I don’t know where to start.”
“I do.” Aurian stuck her head out of the cavern entrance. “Grince?” she sang sweetly. “Remember what you said about being useful? Well, how are you at scrubbing?”
“Khanu and I will go hunting,” Shia offered. “Maybe there are still wild goats on the slopes of Steelclaw....”
“WAIT!” Basileus shouted urgently. “Do not set foot on Steelclaw—-it has become an evil place once more! There are rabbits and deer in the woods down this valley—you can hunt there for what you need.”
Shia, who had become increasingly irritable and short-tempered as the journey had progressed, now had a stubborn light in her eyes. “But there are already cats on Steelclaw,” she argued, “so whatever it is, it won’t harm ...”
“No,” said the Moldan flatly. “There are no cats on Steel-daw. Not any longer.”
Shia and Khanu were too stunned to speak.
“But what happened to them?” Aurian demanded. “Was it disease? Did something attack them? Are they all dead? If not, where did they go?”
“I do not know what became of them,” Basileus replied, his voice heavy with regret, “but I do know why it happened. It is all part of what I must tell you, after you have rested. There will be time enough then—but in the meantime, keep away from Steelclaw, all of you. Be sure you warn the others, who cannot speak as we speak.”
“My people . . .” Shia murmured. “All gone.” Head drooping low, she left the cavern, Khanu padding close behind her. The Mage started to follow, but Khanu forestalled her. “Wait a little, Aurian. Later, she will need you. For now, I think she needs another cat. We’ll help each other.” He followed Shia out.—Chiamh sighed. “Well, I suppose the best thing we can do now is make this place habitable.”
Among the Windeye’s belongings, Forral found an old copper cooking pot and a bucket that did not leak too much, and Aurian lit a fire to heat water. The nearby stand of pines by the pool provided twigs and a sturdy bough to make a broom. Vannor and Chiamh sorted and tidied his belongings, throwing out what could not be salvaged. Even with everyone helping, the sun was high enough in the sky to be peering over the high, sloping sides of the sheltered vale by the time they had the place straight. Afterward, they took turns bathing in the churning pool beneath the waterfall, and dried their shivering bodies on the few blankets that they still possessed.
By sunset, the companions were clean, sheltered, and fed, for Shia and Khanu had returned dragging the carcass of a deer. As darkness fell, they retired to the cavern, and Basileus began to speak, with Aurian and Chiamh translating his words for the others.
“It must have been almost ten years ago when I first realized that Steelclaw was inhabited again. There was a new feeling of tension in the stone—some tentative probing and prying, across the Dragon’s Tail ridge. At once, my heart misgave me. ‘Who is there?’ I asked—knowing that there could be but one answer. Ghabal. He was still as mad as ever—he spoke in riddles and mysteries, saying that he had been freed from his imprisonment when the last of the Magefolk had quit the world—yet it had been a Mage who had brought him home, his consciousness still held in that same piece of rock torn from Steelclaw, in which it had been imprisoned long ago.
“Ghabal’s presence made me uneasy at once—such a mad creature as he would always make a perilous neighbor, his power seemed as great as it had ever been, making the danger even greater. One of the earliest results of his return was vanishment of the cats. To this day, I have no idea what became of them. I cannot think that Ghabal killed them all—there ... no concentration of scavengers around the mountain, and there certainly would have been if that many bodies had been sent. It is my belief that the cats, sensing the Moldan’s return, of their own accord—but where they went, who can say? Nevertheless, Shia and Khanu should not despair. Their people may now be living happily in some other place.” Basileus paused a moment, as if to marshal his thoughts, before continuing. “I was also worried about the Mage who was jaming at large on Steelclaw’s slopes—and on mine, whenever I felt so inclined. I could tell at once he was as mad as the moldan.”