Her mind following that line of thinking to its end, Elyn continued: “Yet mayhap you should teach me in the ways of the hammer in the days to come, for then should you again take it in your head to do something foolish, then still will the Drake fall.” Elyn paused, then: “Aye, Thork, train me; we double our chances of success: one can carry on should aught happen to the other.”
Thork nodded. “Aye, Princess, I can teach you; there will be time: the journey back is long, particularly if we cannot come across a pony for me.”
It took another day and a half for them to come to their destination upon Black Mountain, yet when they arrived, there was no iron gate standing at the dead end of the stone fold where they had last seen it. Yet throughout Thork’s entire being, there burned the path that they had taken, a path that his feet could not lose, and he knew that once here was a door. Yet no door, no portal, no gate loomed before them, only stern black stone frowning.
“Princess, I know that this is the place where stood the door. As a Châk, I cannot be mistaken. Aye, it has snowed since we left, yet this is the place. See the fold in the land. See the wall where once there was an iron gate. Faugh! This be another trick of the Wizards. If they wanted us back in, then the door would be here.”
“If there be a portal here, Thork,” responded Elyn, “then mayhap it exists only for those bearing a token of power, or those in dire need. . as were we when first you found it.”
“Just any token of power, nay,” said Thork, “for we bear the Kammerling in hand. Yet mayhap the silveron nugget was the key, or as you say, our dire need.”
They turned to leave, but as they started away, Thork faced about once more and again confronted the stone. “Adon,” he said firmly, yet the stone yielded not, no gate swung open. He stood a moment more, then said in Châkur, “Sol Kani, den vani dak belka, [Friend Wizards, for our lives we thank you,]” and turned and caught up to Elyn.
They went down the slope, Thork’s unerring steps leading the way, passing by the place where Digger had fallen, and farther down slope, where Wind had died; but the new-fallen snow was deep, burying the storm-slain below, showing no sign of their bodies. And tears blurred Elyn’s vision as down and down the wayfarers went, leaving Black Mountain behind.
It took six more days to come out through the col between thumb and forefinger, six days of trudging through snow in bleak grey mountains, five cold nights spent in the lee of stone boulders rimed with frost, meagerly sheltered ’gainst the icy winds. And each night, deep within the stone below a rhythmic hammering sounded, but the exhausted twain slept the sleep of the dead and heard it not.
And they came down the high saddle between the peaks and in among other, lower mountains, where at last there was wood. That night, for the first time in weeks, they built a fire. And Elyn cooked the small bag of beans that she had borne all the way from Andrak’s holt. They sopped their crue biscuits in the liquid of the soup, and it was as ambrosia to them.
Two days later, in midmorn, ere exiting the range, they came upon a mountain village, one that they had passed on the way in without stopping. Yet now they went up the snowy path and in, striding up the muddy street toward village center, for they needed provisions-food and other staples, and a pony for Thork, if one could be had-and dogs ran yapping at their heels, causing the gelding to snort and shy and skit. And they were not unexpected, for the villagers had seen them from afar, coming down the trail from the east, whence no one came but bandits, or perhaps demons. For had not the townsfolk heard the signalling deep within the stone this past week, heralding the arrival of something or someone, and what else would the earth talk of, if not demons moving about? And so the villagers peered out from their huts and hovels, wary of these strangers, holding children back from running to see, and scribing signs of warding in the air. And in the town square, braver than most, for it was expected of him, stood the portly headman of the village, ready to greet these strangers, though he, too, thought that perhaps they were demons with their odd white skins, not yellow; but even if they were, villagers need be polite to demons, for who knows what would happen, what they would do, if they were met with rudeness. And so he stood in his finest clothes-red robe with gold trim, black hat that announced his office, blue sash-his canted dark eyes watching as they approached. But once Heido had seen their hands, noting that each bore four fingers and a thumb, and their legs, noting that the knees bent forward and not backward, then he relaxed, for they could not be demons with such. . probably. . even though now that they came closer, he could see one of them had red hair and green eyes, while the other was squat with shoulders twice as broad as a Man’s should be. And he noted they wore armor, and bore sword and bow and spear and sling and black horn and long-knife and dagger and axe and hammer and shield, and thought that whether they were demons or not, one should not make them angry.
But he spoke not a word of their language; nor did they speak his. This was going to be most difficult, for clearly they had come to trade, and the village could profit, and gather in much fine goods, perhaps a wood axe or two, or hatchets, though he had not seen any; perhaps instead in their saddlebags they bore perfumes, amber, beads, thread and needles-though it was obvious that they had no bolts of cloth for sewing; perhaps, since they had walked, perhaps even the horse could be bargained for. Hence, it was important that he and they find a way to communicate, especially since he wanted the horse for his own-if they would trade it-for none of the villagers owned such a steed, neither here nor in Kaito, nor even in Béjan. To have such a great animal under him, well, that would add exceedingly to his standing among all the mountain dwellers.
And so Heido called for old Tai to attend him, for Tai had been a trader in his youth, learning parts of many tongues, travelling far from the mountains before he discovered the error of his ways. And while waiting for Tai to arrive, Heido escorted the two visitors into the village hall and sat them down at a small square mat and offered them tea, which they gratefully accepted. While outside, villagers gathered to crane their necks to see these people who, in spite of the earth signals, perhaps were not demons after all, and to examine the great steed, also probably not a demon, though from a respectful distance, just in case.
At last Tai came: old Tai, dressed in his yellow robe and black trader’s boots-no one else in the village had boots, not even the hetman-for Tai had reckoned that he would be needed for his knowledge of tongues. And he stroked his thin beard, looking as wise as he could, as he shuffled along the lane the villagers made for him through their ranks, to come into the building, where he took his place at the mat, and received the tea presented. And after he had taken the ceremonial sip, frail Tai dredged through his mind for tongues long forgotten, the words slow and rusty, his voice reedy, the strangers shaking their heads No until at last he came upon a patois used by some traders far to the sunset, a patois that the bearded one spoke.
[Welcome to Doku,] he said, sweeping his trembling arm in a gesture to indicate the entire village outside. [I am Tai, and this is Heido, our hetman.]