"I wonder if we're anywhere near that green path."
"The one I can't see?" Chess spread his hands. "I haven't the vaguest idea."
Chane looked one way, then the other, along the mountain's slope. He rubbed his forehead, feeling the tingle there, but saw no green trail.
Still, he knew from last sighting that he was somewhere near it. From a distance, it had appeared there was a shallow pass between peaks above, and the dwarf had assumed that the trail was going there. But by what route'! He went to his pack, fumbled around inside it, then looked up.
"Where's my gem?"
"Your what?"
"Spellbinder! Where is it?"
The kender looked thoughtful, then snapped his fingers and reached into his own pouch. "Do you mean this?" He pulled out the red stone, which pulsed with a steady rhythm as the dwarf reached an angry hand to take it.
'You must have dropped that somewhere," the kender said innocently. "I guess I picked it up for you. Don't bother to thank me."
"What else do you have in that pouch that isn't yours?" Chane growled.
Chess peered into his pouch. "I don't know. I lose track. Here's a marble of some kind that I found on that old battlefield. And some nice pebbles, and a toad's skull…a couple of candles, some twine, an earring, a twig. What's this? Oh, a pair of nice cat-tooth daggers." He pulled out one of the daggers. "Didn't you used to have one like this?"
"I had two like that," the dwarf rumbled.
"Did you? What did you do with them?"
"Give me that!" Chane growled.
Chess handed over the dagger, then closed his pouch. "If you're going to expect me to replace everything you lose -"
"Oh, shut up!" Chane stopped abruptly and looked around. "Well, one good thing. Your spell has stopped wailing."
The kender listened for a moment, then grinned. "He has, hasn't he?
Thank you, Zap."
"Agony," something voiceless mourned.
With the Spellbinder gem in his hand, Chane pointed.
'There it is. The green line. It goes up the by-path." He hoisted pack, sword, and hammer. "Are you ready?"
"Look at that!" The kender pointed upward. Overhead, great flocks of birds flew, coming from the high peaks, winging toward the valley. Birds of all sorts, a migration of panic.
Chane watched them, wave after wave coming past.
"What do you suppose caused that?" he wondered aloud.
"Whatever it was, the birds are in a hurry," the kender said. "See those out ahead? Those are pigeons. And mountain kites, and jays, and ducks, and… stand back!" Chess swiftly pulled a pebble from his pouch, fitted the sling to his staff, placed the pebble, aimed, and let go. The pebble streaked skyward, and an instant later a large bird crumpled in flight and fell, thudding to the shelf almost at Chane's feet.
"Goose," the kender explained. "I'm getting tired of dried cat. We'll have this for supper."
Chane gaped at him. "How did you do that?"
"With a pebble. I thought you saw." He picked up the goose and slung it over his shoulder. "See if you can find some berries along the way.
Snowberries will do. They're the yellow ones on the thorny vines.
Snowberries go good with goose." Chess started up the path, and the dwarf followed, still glancing in awe at the smaller creature's forked hoopak.
Overhead, the waves of fleeing birds continued to pass. And now Chess and Chane had company on the slope. The kender and the dwarf dodged aside as a lithe, furred creature with sharp horns bounded past them. A few yards farther along they hugged the stone wall as a line of other creatures, these with heavy coats of thick wool, surged past them, bleating in panic. At the higher ledge, where the trail cut back toward the peaks, the two dived for cover as a pair of panting wolves loped down the path, followed by several elk.
"Do you suppose winter is coming early this year " The kender stepped out on the trail to look after the strange procession, then dodged back as more of the woolly creatures charged past him.
"They're running from something," Chane said. "I guess that settles it.
We'll camp here. A person could get hurt going up that path, with everything else coming down."
Two huge highland bison charged past the ledge and veered away, following the downward path. Another elk was right behind them, cavorting in desperation as the heavier animals blocked its way. Then more of the woolly creatures. One of them wore a collar with a bell.
"Somebody's sheep," Chess noted. "111 bet there's a pretty unhappy herder up there somewhere."
"I think we'd better get a little farther from this path," Chane decided. "Camping here would be like trying to sleep in a tunnelwagon turnaround. Rust, but the traffic is heavy."
They trudged along the ledge, away from the path, rounded a sheer bend, and saw a rubble-slope ahead. After testing it, Chane began to climb. The kender followed, carrying his goose. The bird was almost as big as he was.
They were climbing by moonlight when they reached a quiet swale higher up – well beyond and above the noisy switchback with its stampeding animals. "This will do," Chane said. "I'll make a cookfire back there, behind that outcrop. You can cook the goose."
"Did you get some snowberries?" Chess asked hopefully.
"I haven't had a chance. We'll do without."
By the time the goose was roasted, both the white moon and the red stood above the peaks, giving their dichromatic glow to the steep slopes and the forest-tops of the distant valley. The two ate in silence, except for occasional outbursts of commentary and chatter by the kender, most of which Chane Feldstone chose to ignore. The dwarf sat deep in thought, occasionally rubbing his forehead, which tingled when the light of the red moon touched it. A secret way into Thorbardin, and Grallen had learned of it. Like a third gate, he thought. One that nobody knew about.
He thought of Thorbardin, exploring in his mind all of the myriad ways and working clusters of the undermountain kingdom – as much of it as he had seen and could recall. Clearest to him in memory were the city of the
Daewar, the only home he had ever known, and the warrens where he had worked for his keep from time to time – first tending fields, then helping with the constant delving by which the dwarves sought to expand their underground crop lands. Clearly he recalled Twelfth Road, which he had passed so of ten as a child. Less distinctly he knew the Tenth, Eleventh,
Thirteenth, and Fourteenth Roads, by which Daewar conducted commerce with other cities of Thorbardin.
Dimly, from one brief visit, he recalled the awesome Life-Tree, home of the Hylar. Their city was delved into a giant stalactite above the great, subterranean Urkhan Sea. As an orphan Chane had possessed the appearance of Hylar in his build and features, and later even in the manner in which his beard lay back against his cheeks rather than hanging resignedly downward. The Hylar, he had thought as a child, had a fierce and noble appearance – and undoubtedly some among them had such qualities, though there were plenty of Hylar who in practice were no more noble than the average Daewar.
Still, Chanc's beard grew in the Hylar manner, and it did not displease him that it made him look as though he were standing sturdy and proud, facing down a strong wind.
The Valley of the Thanes, noblest place in all of Thorbardin, Chane had seen only once. He wondered briefly if the supposed "secret way" could lead there. The valley was sacred to the dwarves, for it contained a magical floating tomb – final resting place of the great King Duncan, some said. And the tomb of Grallen, which lay nearby on the lakeshore, was, after all, the only place in Thorbardin that was open to the sky. Yet the only accesses to the Valley of the Thanes were three roads from within