"Don't push your luck by getting imperious, Kirah," Guerrand said stiffly. "I don't think you realize how furious I am with you."
"You know you can't stay mad at me, Rand. We always forgive each other."
Kirah was right about that. They had only each other. "Against my better judgment, I'll let you come along. Just remember, keep quiet and, for once, do what I say, when I say it."
Kirah could scarcely contain her pleasure at the victory. "Just think. This may be our last adventure before you're an old married man."
"I don't like adventure," Guerrand snapped.
They rode east, following the coast. Though the moonlight was bright when it broke through the clouds, neither horse, man, nor girl cast a shadow. Clouds of dirt kicked up by invisible hooves revealed their course across the moor.
Before long Guerrand sighted his destination in the distance, could feel the ground beneath them rising, marking the end of flat DiThon land and the beginning of sloping Berwick land. In the blue light of the nearly full moon two ancient, carved pillars dominated the night sky. Stonecliff. They seemed to hang upon the cliff face, like joint figureheads on a ship.
The young mage had been here only twice in his memory, many years ago, before the property had been sold to Anton Berwick. It would belong to the DiThons again in just four days. Three now, he corrected himself with another glance at Solinari.
Guerrand knew from rumor that most people were uneasy when near the two stone pillars perched in the clearing at the top of the bluff. Everyone believed it was a magical place. Perhaps because of that, Guerrand found the spot intriguing. The plinths were massive and tall, carved with images of grinning and sneering faces and symbols whose meaning no one seemed to know. Superstitious folk thought the symbols were missives to evil gods, and Cormac in particular reviled the carved columns as an affront to all decent deities. But Guerrand sensed their potency was untainted by human emotion or ambition; Stonecliff's power was of Krynn itself, natural and uncorrupted.
Sensing Guerrand's thoughts, Kirah said softly, "You know Cormac is going to tear down the pillars once he gets his hands on the land again."
"How do you know that?" he snapped.
"How do I know anything? By listening in tunnels," she said simply "It's the truth, Rand. I heard him tell Rietta. It makes sense, given his hatred of magic. Besides, I'll bet he's doing it to make room for the fortress."
"What fortress?"
"The one he's going to build as a tollbooth to tax the ships that travel to Hillfort on the river just beyond Stonecliff, the new boundary between Berwick and DiThon land."
"But most of those are Berwick's ships! Cormac would be taxing the very person who gave him the land!"
"And your father-in-law," Kirah added smugly. "Despicable, isn't it?"
Guerrand shook his head slowly. "I can scarcely believe it, even of Cormac."
"Ask him!"
The young man clapped his hands to his ears. "I will, but I can't think about that now, Kirah. Right now I have to think about Quinn's killers."
"Do you know where these men are?" she asked. "I couldn't see anything in the mirror."
Guerrand knew exactly where they were. He'd been studying the mirror constantly for the half day he'd had it. He now pondered the irony of the men's location. "Up there." Though Kirah couldn't see him point, his meaning was obvious.
"They're hiding out at Stonecliff?" she gasped.
For an answer, Guerrand pulled out the mirror and held it over his shoulder for Kirah to examine. Though the outline of the mirror was invisible, the image it projected hovered in midair before her face. Kirah could see one of the men leaning against a carved pillar three times his height. All three men were seated between the twin columns, a small fire burning at their feet.
Kirah looked away from the mirror, toward the pillars on the hill that ended at a cliff above the sea. She saw firelight flickering between the carved columns. Guerrand was right.
"They sure match the description given by the men who brought Quinn's body back," she whispered. "Awfully gutsy of them to camp so near our home."
"They may have no idea who they murdered," said Guerrand, "or that anyone who cares lives nearby."
"With a magic mirror," giggled Kirah.
"Sshhh!" Guerrand hissed. "For the gods' sake, Kirah, this is no joke. These men killed a fit, heavily armed cavalier and wounded two others. They won't hesitate to do the same to a slip of a girl and a barely competent warrior. They can't see us, but they'll be able to hear us soon, so say nothing, do nothing from here on out."
"Yes, Guerrand," she muttered meekly, properly chastised.
Guerrand, fearing the horse's labored breathing would draw the bandits' attention, reined the creature in on the far side of a cypress tree, some twenty rods from the stone pillars. The horse would become visible as soon as Guerrand moved away from it, but the young mage hoped the branches of the cypress would hide the roan. Now, if he could only similarly stash Kirah. Guerrand slid down quietly and looped the reins around a low branch.
"Kirah," he whispered softly, "I need you to stay here and keep the horse still. You'll both become visible, but you'll be in deep shadow under the cypress."
"You're not going to leave me behind that easily," she said. Guerrand winced. "How am I going to keep a horse quiet-clap a hand over its mouth? It's going to make noise, whether I'm with it or not. You need my eyes up there," she insisted, pointing toward the fire. But then she decided to soften her approach. "I promise I'll be quiet and careful."
Knowing this was neither the time nor the place to argue, Guerrand whispered firmly, "See that you do."
He could hear her slide off the horse, felt her hand groping for his. "You won't be sorry."
"I already am." He searched with one hand for the shield he'd lashed to the horse's saddle, then thought better of it. He was already wearing his sword, and the metal shield would be cumbersome to carry. He didn't intend to engage the men in battle anyway.
"What exactly are we looking for?" whispered Kirah, straining at his side to be off.
"I've been watching them closely in the mirror since I got it, but I've not seen them holding anything of Quinn's so far. I want to search their packs." Holding her hand firmly in his, Guerrand led her up the grassy hillside. It was difficult to remember that they didn't have to crouch to keep from being seen. His footfalls sounded as loud as thunder to his own ears.
They came to the crest of the hill, well within earshot of the three men. Guerrand could scarcely hear them talking for the hammering of his heart. He had Kirah firmly by the wrist and could feel her own pulse beat rapid-fire under his fingers. Though still invisible, he could not resist the urge to crouch behind a boulder to observe, peering left, while Kirah leaned right.
The men were dirty and poorly dressed, with the look of old soldiers about them. They wore odd and mismatched pieces of armor that bore patches of rust. One of the men was missing an ear; another limped noticeably; the third was a dwarf with a tremendous beard tied into numerous tiny braids.
There had to be something of Quinn's here, reasoned Guerrand. He heard a horse whinny nearby. His heart stopped, and then flooded with relief when he spotted three horses illuminated by moonlight, grazing on the far side of the pillars. Their saddlebags lay on the ground near them. Apparently these bandits were too confident to worry about security. Guerrand tugged Kirah's hand and pulled her away from the camp to circle quietly to the other side.
The horses' backs were bare, stripped down for the night. Guerrand's eyes fell on the bags, several paces from the mounts.
"Pick a bag and start searching through it," he whispered. "Quiet now, we don't want to startle the horses. As it is, they'll be able to smell us, so we'll have to move quickly." Kirah started to scamper away. Guerrand's hand reached out at the last second and yanked her back. "Remember, you can't go farther than about four paces from me, or you'll become visible."