The sky above the mountain was red and grew redder still as I approached. I had expected something of the sort. When I was still far distant, however, I found that I was not prepared for all. Terash Vor was sending its fiery breath high into the air, one vast stream of fire flowing upwards only to fall again to the ground, like a single burning feather from a bird the size of the sky. I kept my distance as I flew round about it, to learn if there was aught else to see. To my surprise, there were several smaller flows on the north side of the mountain, and a few distant red glows on others in the range showed that this was but the surface of a deep disturbance. I called upon Idai, an elder of the Kantri and an old and trusted friend.
"Idai, may I bespeak you?"
"Of course, Shikrar," came the familiar voice of her thoughts. " What troubles you ? "
"I am at Terash Vor and I would that you might see what I have seen. Will you come to me here ? I shall await you at the Grandfather."
She replied simply, "I come. I shall be with you in the hour."
The Grandfather was the name of the mountain nearest the south, the first that rose dark above the quiet hills below. It was so called for that it had, in some lights, the seeming of a vast black dragon. There was a large ledge on the south side—what would have been part of a back, or a folded wing—where two could stand and speak together. It was often used as a meeting place. I used it on occasion but I never was comfortable there.
We of the Kantri are long-lived, as I have said, seeing as many as two thousand winters in the natural course of things. We are thus not inclined by our natures to take note of anything so short as an hour. However, time passes for us as it does for all creatures, and while I waited for Idai I decided to dare my wings again and take another quick look around the fire plain. By the time I returned to the Grandfather to await her I was deeply troubled.
I had often been to Terash Vor. It usually happened that some time in every kell—every hundred winters—the mountains took a deep shuddering breath and exhaled fire. Some of these episodes were more active and some less, but I had seen this level of fire only once before, when I was little more than a youngling myself. Thus this was the equal of the worst outbreak in living memory, for I am the Eldest of the Kantri. Not for sixteen kells had there been such unrest in the ground. I wondered what it might portend.
Idai bespoke me from a distance as she approached. "Shikrar, how fare you? I had thought you still kept the Weh sleep until I heard your call to the Summer Field on the morrow."
"The ground shook me awake, indeed, hut I am healed enough that the waking has been no hardship."
I heard her gasp of a sudden and felt the fear in her mind, and I knew she had seen the great plume of fire. "Name of the Winds, Shikrar! What has so blasted the very rock that it thus bums in anger?" She spoke aloud then as she landed beside me, her great wings almost fluttered as she came to earth. I had seldom seen her so agitated. "I have never seen such a thing."
"I have, but I was barely fledged the last time. Come aloft again with me, let us take as close a look as we may."
We leapt from the ledge, spreading wings wide, and took advantage of the fire-made updrafts to keep us high aloft. We investigated the patches of brightness on the other moun-lains and found little to comfort us. It was a great outbreak, and like drenching rain on hard-baked ground it had spread far and wide. The flows on the north of Terash Vor were a little unusual; the fact that three other peaks in the range were also gushing fire was cause for deep concern.
It seemed every bit as bad as the memory from my youth, and I well remembered that at the time there had been much debate about our future on the island. The necessity of having to leave had been seriously discussed. Only the dying of the mountains' fire had ended the debate. I could not, however, trust simply to memory for something so important.
As Idai and I turned away south again, towards our chambers and the Great Hall, I bespoke my son. "Kedra, are ye landed safe and well? "
His voice sounded strong and confident in my mind and below all ran a current of quiet delight like a strong river. "We are, Father, and Sherdk is already pleading to go aloft again! He seems to have quite a taste for it. What have you found?"
"Much, and none of it of comfort. I fear I must ask for your assistance. Is Mirazhe well enough to care for Sherok without you? I will require you for the Kin-Summoning at the next dark of the moon."
"She is, my father," he replied, instantly somber. "I will begin my preparations."
"You need not act quite so swiftly as that!" I replied, hissing my amusement even as I flew. "I must speak with as many as come to the Summer Field at noon, and we shall have more than a full moon before I am prepared for the Summoning. However, if you will meet with me in the Chamber of Souls at dusk of the coming day we can begin our preparations."
He agreed and bade me farewell. Idai and I flew in silence back to our several chambers, for we both had much to consider.
It is done! I have begun this record of my acts, on the eve of my flowering. For the price I have paid to the Rakshasa, the greater of the two races of the demons, my thoughts and actions will appear on these pages, for I wish to remember all but cannot spare the time to write at day's end when what I require is sleep. A minor making this, compared to others I have done and shall do, but well worth the time it will save. This book will be my secret and my truth, that when I am finally raised to my deserved eminence and all of Kolmar is at my feet for as long as I wish it, those I hold in thrall may read how they were defeated. Their despair will add greatly to my rejoicing.
Once the journal was accomplished, the time was come to summon back the demon I had sent to find Marik's daughter. A minor summoning with a binding woven in and it arrived, cords and all ready to my hand. I tightened my grip on the binding and the thing writhed.
"Speak and be freed," I said. "Where is she?"
"Followed the trace I have, foolish one, but find her I cannot," it hissed. "Release me and you sshall live."
"I have paid well for your services, little Rikti. Your threats are empty and your life or your service forfeit. Speak!"
"Shee isss hidden!" it cried.
I tugged hard on the binding and it screeched its pain, high and agonized. Good. "Do you tell me that you cannot lind her?" I spat. "Do you speak to me of your own death, worm?"
The Rikti hissed as I released the pressure to let it speak. "I bear no fault for that the one you sseek iss invisible. She hass been ssought throughout both worldss, but a veil iss about her and a fear liess on her name."
"A fear? What kind of fear can affect the Rikti?"
I knew the only possible answer even before it spoke, but I wanted to hear its version.
"Kantrissshakrim," it hissed. "She iss protected—there musst be one that iss ever at her sside. It would cosst my life to go nigh her," it said with a sneer, "and for that you have not paid."
"Your life is mine if you do not complete the pact," I
snarled. Its petty self-importance annoyed me and I tugged again at the binding charm. It screamed nicely until I released it again. "Now, filth, tell me where she is to be found. If there is a True Dragon in Kolmar it must burn in your sight like iron in the fire's heart. Where?"