Adhara, having agreed for Menish to go, made no further protest. She wished them a safe journey and only Menish detected the concern in her eyes. But Tenari did not let Azkun go so easily. When he mounted his horse she made to climb up behind him. Yarol caught her arm, but she ignored him and tried again. Gently but firmly Yarol pulled her away from the horse.
“Careful, Yarol!” called Neathy.
But Tenari was too quick. She lashed out at him, raking her nails down his face. He was unprepared for such viciousness and, in jerking away from her, was thrown off balance. He tumbled to the ground. With a spring she was suddenly on the horse behind Azkun and sat there motionless as if nothing had happened.
“Bitch,” said Neathy. “You have to watch her, Yarol, she's not as docile as she seems.”
“You still want to leave her behind, Azkun?” asked Althak.
“Yes, she cannot come with us.” Her attacks on Neathy and now Yarol had made him even more afraid of her.
“She doesn't treat our folk in that fashion,” said Adhara, stepping forward. “Down you come or I'll haul you off that horse myself. You need a birch across your backside for that kind of behaviour.”
Tenari ignored her.
“So be it,” said Adhara grimly. With a quick movement she reached up to Tenari’s collar and, grabbing her by the scruff of her jerkin, wrenched her off the horse. She crashed heavily to the ground with a squeal of surprise. Adhara pulled her to her feet and Tenari’s nails flashed out once again, but Adhara was ready for that. One arm knocked her hand aside and the other thudded into her belly. As she doubled over Adhara caught her in a headlock.
Tenari screamed and clawed at Adhara, fighting like an animal, even trying to bite her, but all she could do was scratch at Adhara’s thick jerkin. When it seemed she might break free Adhara casually tripped her, flung her face down on the ground and sat on her.
“Tenari!” cried Azkun, horrified at this scene. He clambered from his horse and knelt beside her. “Tenari, stop it. Do not fight them or they will hurt you. You cannot come with us.”
Abruptly Tenari’s struggles ended. Adhara let her rise to her feet, though she watched her every move suspiciously.
“She did not understand,” said Azkun, seeing the hostility in Adhara’s eyes. “She did not mean any harm.”
“The next time she means so little harm she'll get more than that.” But Tenari made no further move to climb back onto the horse. Her face became a mask of grief, but she made no sound. Azkun refused to look at her. Her expression touched his heart, but he could not bear her to be with him. She was the eyes of the Monnar.
Keashil had brought Althak’s harp with her, and before he climbed onto his horse she offered it to him.
“Your harp, you should take it with you, It'll ease your heart in peril.” Althak touched the harp.
“You play it better than I. Besides it's yours, I gave it to you.”
“Return soon then, Vorthenki. I'll miss you.”
When their goodbyes were all said they rode off through the gateway and down the road between the stone houses. Their way led them to the bank of the river where there was a stone bridge of crude design; a series of stepping-stones joined together. Azkun remembered the leaping span of the bridge of Sheagil and thought this a mean thing. But it brought them safely across the river and it did not involve dead cows.
On the other side he looked behind him to Meyathal. He could see the walls rising above the houses of the town, and he could see two figures standing on the terrace. He was not sure at this distance but they appeared to be Adhara and Tenari. He hoped Tenari would not be treated too harshly.
North of Meyathal the country opened out into the wide plains they had seen from the mountains. It was vast, empty and windy. The east wind blasted across it like a released demon. The emptiness of the plains was overpowering. After the first three days they lost sight of the mountains behind them and it seemed that the plains stretched on forever. Azkun felt that he stood on the edge of the world. The horizon was a cliff beyond which lay nothing. He found the emptiness filled his thoughts, cleansing them of cares and guilt, reminding him again of the dragons.
He realised during the silence and the emptiness that the absence of Tenari had given him freedom from the Monnar’s gaze, freedom from their influence. He was afraid of the spectres on the first night, but they did not appear as they had before he had found Tenari. Perhaps he need no longer fear them.
The dragons filled his thoughts more and more. This country reminded him of the plains of Kelerish and how the dragon had flown down from the wide sky. He had relied on Tenari too much and had not remembered the glory of his masters. This he resolved to change.
The emptiness of the plains was not complete. The road on which they travelled was the only route from Meyathal to Gildenthal and was used by caravans. They met two of these but did not camp with them. Many times they saw distant thals surrounded by herds, but the thals rarely travelled the roads, they were looking for pastures.
Apart from people and their animals Azkun saw other signs of life. Birds soared above their heads continually. One had a high, keening cry that made Azkun feel that the world was nearly at an end. There were rabbits and hares hiding in their holes in the ground, and foxes and wolves hunting them. Several times in the nights Azkun woke with fresh death in his heart. But they were normally dulled by distance, reminders of corruption rather than an intolerable awareness of it. He had the dragons to protect him from such things.
On the fifth day Grath spied a herd of deer and suggested they hunt, for they had no fresh meat left. Menish overruled him. They could eat barley and dried fruit until they reached Gildenthal, he told him, there would be no hunting on this journey. Grath grumbled but Azkun was grateful.
When they were eight days from Meyathal they came to a small path leading away from the road. A cairn of rounded stones had been piled beside it as a marker. Grath, who was in front, turned down the path and the others followed.
It led down into a mossy hollow that was wide enough to contain a large pool. Sheltered from the wind by the hollow the water was clear and still, or it was until the horses bent to drink from it. Their snorting slurps caused ripples that washed out into the centre of the pool. Rising from the centre was a tall, grey stone.
Azkun drew back in fear when he saw it. It was a Monnar stone, he could see an eye chiselled on its face. But he could see no more. The eye was not looking at him. It was not alive. It was just a stone. Nevertheless he looked at it warily.
“This is the Kruzan,” Menish explained. “It's a place more ancient than we Anthorians. Our women-folk say it was placed here before the heroes crossed the mountains of Ristalshuz. This place is sacred to them.”
“In Anthor the men worship Aton while the women worship the old gods, Kiveli and Krith,” said Althak. There was a smile on his face and something that suggested amusement at the situation.
“We leave them to their tales,” added Hrangil. “Women have no place in religion.”
“Why not?” asked Azkun.
“It has always been so for the Relanese,” said Menish. “The worship of Aton is forbidden to women.”
“Why?”
“Because they're not men!” snapped Hrangil, disturbed by the suggestion that things could be otherwise. “You heard Keashil quoting from the Mish-Tal. It was disgusting!”
There was no answer to that. After they had filled their water bags and the horses had drunk their fill they returned to the road.
That afternoon, during a short break because Althak had to check a shoe on his horse, Hrangil spoke to Azkun alone.
“Forgive my outburst at the Kruzan, it was presumptuous of me. These things are… dispensational. We've been shown the way of the Mish-Tal, but the Mish-Tal is not the ultimate authority.” The way he looked at Azkun it was obvious that he believed he was speaking directly to that ultimate authority.