Dhiammara

27 The Mountain of the Blind

Two days later, the Nighthawk, with its cluster of smaller boats in tow, approached the Xandim coast. A ragged cheer went up when the dark outline appeared on the horizon, as the thirty-eight Nightrunner survivors looked forward to an end, at last, to their frightful journey. The last days had not been pleasant for anyone. Though the cargo hold had been scrubbed clean following Yanis’s sea burial and the refugees could be sheltered from the elements, the space below-decks had not been designed for human habitation.—The quarters were cold, damp, cramped, and noisome; food had been scarce and water strictly rationed. Aurian had found her healing skills in demand over and over again, and it was only thanks to her that no further lives were lost.—Compared to the horrors they had left behind them, the Nightrunners felt they had little to fear in the Southern Lands. Following Yanis’s initial journey to the southern settlements some ten years ago, to pick up the Mage and her companions, the Xandim and the smugglers had formed a successful trading partnership that had ripened, though time, into ties of friendship. Tarnal knew that, though his people arrived as mendicants, they had valuable skills to offer the Horsefolk, including that of building the swift and sturdy Nightrunner ships in which the Xandim took a tremendous interest.

For Aurian and her friends, however, it was a very different matter. They had been responsible, some ten years ago, for tempting over a hundred Xandim from their homes, and leading them into slavery in a foreign land. The welcome that they might expect this time might be a great deal warmer than they would like.—The Mage and her companions had discussed the matter with Zanna and Tarnal, and had decided to hide belowdecks when the ship docked and sneak away after nightfall, with Aurian using the Old Magic of D’arvan’s talisman to give the Xandim the power of flight.

To Aurian’s surprise, Vannor had insisted on coming too. She had expected that he would have wanted to stay with his daughter and his grandson, but he had insisted that he could be more use to the Mage, and besides, he wanted to escape the painful memories of Dulsina. After talking it over with Forral, Aurian had agreed. To be on the safe side, no one would know of this plan save the Nightrunner leaders, and the rest of the Wyvernesse community had been sworn to secrecy regarding the presence of the additional passengers.—Chiamh had suggested making their way up to his old home on the upper slopes of the Wyndveil. They should be safe enough there, for the Xandim did not venture into the Vale of Death with its ancient tombs. The Windeye wanted particularly to consult with Basileus, the Moldan of the Wyndveil, who was better equipped than anyone to give the companions a clear picture of what had been happening here in these Southern Kingdoms.

As the ship entered the harbor Aurian craned her neck to see out of the small cabin porthole. The Xandim settlement had changed since she was last there.—The low stone houses had proliferated around the edge of the cove and had a more permanent aspect, and the inlet had been dredged to form a harbor. Long stone piers had been built out on either point to increase the shelter afforded by the bay. A group of Horsefolk crowded the quays, looking slightly puzzled at this unscheduled visit, but waving a welcome to the ship nonetheless.

Izmir, the chief of the settlement, stepped forth as the Nighthawk tied up, and Tarnal leapt ashore and spoke to him softly and urgently for several minutes. Aurian saw the Xandim’s expression change from smiling welcome to dismay and sorrow, and guessed that the new smuggler leader had told him of Yanis’s death. When he saw the pitiful condition of the refugees, the Xandim leader welcomed them without delay or ceremony into the great communal meeting lodge of the settlement. The Nightrunners went gratefully, shown the way by members of the Xandim community.

Chiamh looked through the porthole and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like an oath. “Look at that,” he said. “The Xandim never welcomed me anywhere in my whole life, and I don’t suppose they’ll ever start now.”

Zanna was the last to leave the ship—almost. Aurian and Forral, Linnet, and the three Xandim made their sad farewells, and the Mage passed on the thanks of the cats and Wolf. Then she noticed that Grince was lurking in the shadows, in the corner of the cabin.

“I’m going with you,” the thief said firmly. Aurian glared at him. “I thought we had already been through this.”

“But you’ll need me,” Grince insisted.

“In the name of all the Gods, why would I need you?” Aurian snapped at him, thoroughly exasperated.

To her surprise, Grince’s brash front vanished. “Lady, please. In my whole life, no one has ever needed me—except Warrior. I don’t belong here with these people—not that I’m not very grateful to you,” he added, with a nervous glance at Zanna. “Lady Aurian, you saved me, back in Nexis. I owe you now. Give me a chance to pay you back, please. I was the best thief in the city—my skills will do me no good here, they’ll just get me into trouble. They might be useful to you, though.”

“Take him,” Chiamh said suddenly. “I don’t know why, exactly, but I have a feeling . . .” He shivered. “Aurian, let him come with us. You won’t regret it.”

Aurian looked quizzically at the Xandim seer, then flung up her hands in defeat. “All right, Grince. You can come—but you can’t take that dog with you, I’m afraid. It just wouldn’t be practical.”

“That’s all right,” Zanna said. “Martek will look after Frost until Grince returns.” She stepped forward to hug them all. “Please,” she said, “take care, all of you—and come back to us when it’s all over.”

“We will,” Aurian said. But though no one would mention the possibility aloud, she knew they were all thinking the same thing—that this could be the last time they ever met.

That night, Izmir and his Council of Elders entertained the Nightrunners with a lavish feast, and for the first time in days, Zanna let herself relax a little—until the chieftain himself actually brought up the subject of the Mage. He had been asking Tarnal if the Nightrunners ever had any contact with the Phaerie.

Tarnal shook his head. “No—thank all the Gods. At least we remained hidden from them. They view Mortals as no more than animals.”

“Then you will understand the position of the Xandim,” Izmir said grimly. “How we rue the day that our folk were tempted across the seas by wicked traitors among their own kind. Not to mention, of course, the northern Magefolk who were fomenters of the whole sad business.” He looked sharply at the Nightrunner leaders. “And they never did return?”

The swiftness of the question took Zanna completely by surprise. She inhaled sharply—and choked on a mouthful of food. Instantly the room dissolved into confusion as she was thumped on the back, given a cup of water, and handed a cloth to mop her streaming eyes. By the time she had recovered, Tarnal had gathered his wits. “It sounds very unlikely that someone could still be lost in time and then return,” he said smoothly.

“But they were your friends?” Izmir pressed.

“Yes,” said Zanna belligerently. “Why, does that make a difference?”

The chief frowned. “Not to me, but sadly, I must ask you to forget your former friends—especially if you are speaking to anyone outside this community.” He leaned forward earnestly. “It is different with us—for many years now we have traded successfully with the Nightrunners, and friendship has grown between our folk.” He looked at Zanna and Tarnal. “Your people will stay with us, and become part of our settlement. You have skills, such as your shipbuilding, that would benefit us greatly.”

“Are you saying it could make trouble for us if it were widely known that we were friends with Aurian and the others?” Tarnal demanded. “Why?”

“Please—do not blame me too harshly, and do not let this affair deprive your folk of the sanctuary that they so badly heed. Your friends are under a sentence of death, Tarnal, if they ever return here. For many seasons now, a watch has been kept throughout the Xandim lands for your companions. I have the strictest orders concerning the Mage and the others, as does every chief of every settlement along the coast. If they are found in the Xandim lands they must be taken to the Fastness, and from there they will go to the mountain of the Blind God.” He sighed. “I cannot say for certain—the decision will rest with the will, or the whim, of the god. I fear, however, that they will be sacrificed.”

A lone Xandim herdsman, encamped by his fire on the broad, wind-scoured plains, looked up and saw a cluster of dark dots pass across the face of the moon, flying very high and fast. He frowned. What in the name of the goddess were they? Didn’t quite look like Skyfolk, and they didn’t usually fly by night in any case. Still, what else could it be?

Aurian had forgotten all her earlier fear, and was truly enjoying herself.—Combined with the relief of having slipped out of the Xandim settlement unnoticed, there was a nerve-tingling thrill to hurtling though the air in the frosty moonlight, and night wove a glittering bewitchment all its own to augait the Old Magic of the amulet which sped her on her way. The Mage crouched low against Chiamh’s neck for a moment-to get her glowing face out of the icy wind, and buried hands in the warmth of the Windeye’s streaming black fane. With the Othersight that came when she was wearing the talisman, she could see the land below as great fractured ites of topaz and amber that had been piled on top of one other to overlap. The stands of trees that dotted the grasslands were like the crystal growths on a frosty window. The ids were swirling torrents of silver, and the true rivers that wandered through the plains were twisting serpents that wed with misty radiance.

Grince rode behind the Mage, clasping her around the waist in a grip so tight that it was almost painful, and keeping a wary eye on the hawk that clung tightly to her shoulder, sheltering from the wind in a fold of her hood. From the corner of her eye, Aurian could see Schiannath and Iscalda speeding along beside her, their life force linked to the paths of the wind by the talisman’s power and the Mage’s will. Forral rode the great grey Schiannath, who was like a storm cloud, driven before the wild wind, and Vannor rode Iscalda, who shimmered like a pearl in the moonlight. Between the two Xandim, in a cat’s cradle of rope, a great net was suspended—one of the cargo nets from the Nightrunner ship. Shia, Khanu, and Wolf, unhappy passengers all, dangled in the net, and Aurian felt sorry for them. She knew from experience that it was definitely not the most pleasant way to travel. They would be chilled, cramped, and aching before the journey’s end. Much happier was Linnet, who flew on the other side of the Mage, effortlessly matching the pace set by the Xandim.

Aurian was pleased with the speed they were making. Even though the Xandim carried extra burdens, she could feel the Old Magic buoying them up, and so far, at least, she was experiencing little fatigue from the maintenance of the spell that made flight possible. If they kept up this pace, she estimated, they could be in Chiamh’s Chamber of Winds three nights from now. And then?—The Mage wished she knew. When she had looked into the Well of Souls, she had seen Eliseth in Aerillia—but was that any guarantee that the Weather-Mage would still be there?

When she had first reached the Dragon City, not long before sunset, Eliseth had been somewhat dismayed by the extent of the destruction. Anvar’s memories of the earthquake had been, of necessity, blurred by panic and the need for a swift escape. By the time the tremors had stopped, he had been safely back underground, and had never had a chance to see the condition of the city as Eliseth was seeing it.

The Magewoman’s winged bearers had landed her on the top of the highest tower—the very same place from which Anvar and Aurian had first looked down on Dhiammara. Below her, the great emerald tower in the center of the city was cracked throughout its length and splintered into a jagged spike, and the valley floor was a network of chasms and cracks, which gave the impression of ruin and decay. When Eliseth looked more closely, however, she saw that most of the low buildings, each one hollowed from a single gem, appeared to have survived more or less intact. She turned to Sunfeather, who stood at her side, his mouth screwed into an expression of distaste. “It’ll do,” she said shortly, daring him with a frosty look to contradict her.

He shrugged, irritating her—deliberately, she knew—by his lack of response to her challenge. “Very well, Lady. I’ll send the men down to check which buildings are safe, and to look for somewhere suitable for us to spend the night.”

By nightfall the Weather-Mage had been installed, if not comfortably, at least adequately, in one of the simple buildings. Bern, whose task was still to carry the well-wrapped Sword of Flame for her, had deposited the Artifact here in her shelter before seeking his own bed in a nearby building. Her failure to master the Sword had been Eliseth’s only setback so far—other than that, she had good reason to feel pleased with herself. Her plans were working out beautifully. She had been told by the ever-attentive Sunfeather that the Khazalim would be arriving the following night, in darkness, when it was safe to cross the desert. Tomorrow night also, the first of the slaves would begin to arrive from the settlement in the forest. Eliseth held out her hands to warm them at the flickering fire, and stretched with drowsy contentment. Now, before she curled up to sleep in the pile of thick blankets and luxuriant furs that Sunfeather had brought her, she would reach out to make contact with Vannor’s mind, and check on Aurian’s progress.

Eliseth filled the grail with water from the leather bottle by her side, and summoned Vannor’s image, sinking into his mind like a stone falling into a clear lake. Her concentration faltered as she found herself flying through the air at a tremendous speed, and with a sickening lurch, she found herself back in her own body. With a curse, she collected herself, breathing deeply and sitting perfectly still until the giddiness had passed. Then, cautiously, she tried again.

What in perdition was going on? The last time she had entered his mind Vannor had been on board a ship, and his thoughts were such a confused welter of anger, fear, and grief that she had been unable to make sense of them. Now, however, he was calmer, and raking through her victim’s latest memories, she was astounded at what she found.

Eliseth discovered, with a flash of annoyance, that she was too late to exact her vengeance upon Zanna—the wretched woman had been left behind in the Xandim settlement on the coast. Zanna’s fate was a minor detail, however; soon forgotten when the Mage discovered, to her intense shock and dismay, that Aurian could make the Xandim fly. Eliseth fought against a cold, sinking feeling of unease. This changed everything. She had thought herself secure, with plenty of time to prepare before Aurian could get anywhere near the Jeweled Desert. Now, she would have to hasten her plans along—and, as well she knew, such haste could easily breed mistakes that might cost her, if she did not take the greatest of care.

For the first time, Eliseth wondered whether she had been wise to have left the Horsefolk unconquered; a potential enemy at her back. Then she shrugged.—How foolish, to let panic cloud her thinking. After all, since the forest settlement had been taken, she had hostages that the Mage held dear. She made a mental note to discover the identities of Eliizar and Nereni when the slaves arrived.

“So—let Aurian come,” Eliseth muttered venomously. “I’ll be ready.”

By traveling at night, Chiamh and his companions succeeded in completing their journey unseen. Hiding each dawn in one of the sparse stands of timber that dotted the otherwise featureless plains, they kept an uneasy watch in turns throughout the daylight hours, while the others rested. It had been a wearying, cold, and hungry journey. The Xandim were luckier than the humans, cats, and Wolf, for they could graze, at least, but Zanna had been able to furnish little in the way of rations for the others.

Just as Aurian had hoped, they arrived on the upper slopes of the Wyndveil on the third night, just before dawn. Though they were almost certain they had not been spotted from the Fastness, Chiamh deemed it wisest to get everyone out of the sky and under cover before the sun came up, so he searched for a current of gleaming air that dipped sharply, and, with Schiannath and Iscalda hard on the Windeye’s heels, the horses and riders swooped down like striking hawks into the Vale of Death, where the Chamber of Winds speared the heavens.—Though Chiamh had long ago convinced himself that he and the Xandim were done with each other for good, he was astonished to find himself deeply moved by the first sight, blurred and vague though it was, of his old home. As his hooves touched lightly down on the stretch of short, soft turf in front of the soaring pinnacle of rock, he could scarcely wait for Aurian and Grince to dismount, so that he could change back to his human form. Without waiting for the others, he ran into the cavern at the spire’s foot.

Within, he found the devastation of years’ neglect. His blankets and furs had been eaten away by mildew, and his scanty belongings had been scattered and gnawed by wild animals, who had decorated the floor with piles of droppings as abundant evidence of their tenancy. Chiamh was suddenly grateful to Parric for teaching him some new curses while they stayed together in the Nightrunner caverns.

“Windeye! I have never heard such language! Do you not know that all wild creatures are the little children of the goddess?”

“Then Iriana should teach them better manners . . .” Chiamh began; then he recognized the voice. “Basileus?”

“Indeed—and who did you expect? Well met, little Windeye. I have never been so delighted to see any living creature in all the endless ages of my existence.—But where have you been? Why did you stay away so long?” Abruptly, all the joy left the Moldan’s voice. “There is much that you should know, my friend.—Events of considerable gravity have transpired here, these last few years....”

Not again, Chiamh thought. Lately, life seemed to consist of nothing but evil tidings and dire events. In that moment, he became aware that he was phenomenally hungry, dirty, and cold—and so weary that he felt about a thousand years old.

“Rest then,” the Moldan said kindly. “I forget the frailties of you flesh-and-blood folk. My news has waited almost ten years—it will keep a little longer.”

Just then Aurian entered, and viewed the scene with a low whistle of dismay.

“Seven bloody demons!”

“Greetings, Wizard.”

“Oh—greetings, Basileus.” The Mage inclined her head respectfully, though there was no point in looking in any particular direction—not when the Moldan was the entire mountain. “It’s good to be back again. We have a great deal to tell you.”

“And I, you. But settle yourselves first I will wait.”

Shia entered the cavern and sniffed. “Squirrels,” she said decisively, wrinkling her nose. “Rats and a family of foxes.”

Chiamh looked around grimly at the devastation. “I don’t know where to start.”

“I do.” Aurian stuck her head out of the cavern entrance. “Grince?” she sang sweetly. “Remember what you said about being useful? Well, how are you at scrubbing?”

“Khanu and I will go hunting,” Shia offered. “Maybe there are still wild goats on the slopes of Steelclaw....”

“WAIT!” Basileus shouted urgently. “Do not set foot on Steelclaw—-it has become an evil place once more! There are rabbits and deer in the woods down this valley—you can hunt there for what you need.”

Shia, who had become increasingly irritable and short-tempered as the journey had progressed, now had a stubborn light in her eyes. “But there are already cats on Steelclaw,” she argued, “so whatever it is, it won’t harm ...”

“No,” said the Moldan flatly. “There are no cats on Steel-daw. Not any longer.”

Shia and Khanu were too stunned to speak.

“But what happened to them?” Aurian demanded. “Was it disease? Did something attack them? Are they all dead? If not, where did they go?”

“I do not know what became of them,” Basileus replied, his voice heavy with regret, “but I do know why it happened. It is all part of what I must tell you, after you have rested. There will be time enough then—but in the meantime, keep away from Steelclaw, all of you. Be sure you warn the others, who cannot speak as we speak.”

“My people . . .” Shia murmured. “All gone.” Head drooping low, she left the cavern, Khanu padding close behind her. The Mage started to follow, but Khanu forestalled her. “Wait a little, Aurian. Later, she will need you. For now, I think she needs another cat. We’ll help each other.” He followed Shia out.—Chiamh sighed. “Well, I suppose the best thing we can do now is make this place habitable.”

Among the Windeye’s belongings, Forral found an old copper cooking pot and a bucket that did not leak too much, and Aurian lit a fire to heat water. The nearby stand of pines by the pool provided twigs and a sturdy bough to make a broom. Vannor and Chiamh sorted and tidied his belongings, throwing out what could not be salvaged. Even with everyone helping, the sun was high enough in the sky to be peering over the high, sloping sides of the sheltered vale by the time they had the place straight. Afterward, they took turns bathing in the churning pool beneath the waterfall, and dried their shivering bodies on the few blankets that they still possessed.

By sunset, the companions were clean, sheltered, and fed, for Shia and Khanu had returned dragging the carcass of a deer. As darkness fell, they retired to the cavern, and Basileus began to speak, with Aurian and Chiamh translating his words for the others.

“It must have been almost ten years ago when I first realized that Steelclaw was inhabited again. There was a new feeling of tension in the stone—some tentative probing and prying, across the Dragon’s Tail ridge. At once, my heart misgave me. ‘Who is there?’ I asked—knowing that there could be but one answer. Ghabal. He was still as mad as ever—he spoke in riddles and mysteries, saying that he had been freed from his imprisonment when the last of the Magefolk had quit the world—yet it had been a Mage who had brought him home, his consciousness still held in that same piece of rock torn from Steelclaw, in which it had been imprisoned long ago.

“Ghabal’s presence made me uneasy at once—such a mad creature as he would always make a perilous neighbor, his power seemed as great as it had ever been, making the danger even greater. One of the earliest results of his return was vanishment of the cats. To this day, I have no idea what became of them. I cannot think that Ghabal killed them all—there ... no concentration of scavengers around the mountain, and there certainly would have been if that many bodies had been sent. It is my belief that the cats, sensing the Moldan’s return, of their own accord—but where they went, who can say? Nevertheless, Shia and Khanu should not despair. Their people may now be living happily in some other place.” Basileus paused a moment, as if to marshal his thoughts, before continuing. “I was also worried about the Mage who was jaming at large on Steelclaw’s slopes—and on mine, whenever I felt so inclined. I could tell at once he was as mad as the moldan.”

Dread had settled like a cold stone in Aurian’s belly. She would keep silent no longer. “A Mage, you say?” she interrupted. “An old man, with gems for eyes?”

“Indeed, it is just as you say. I had a feeling you would know him. He has no eyes, just shining jewels, which is why the Xandim call him the Blind God, though somehow he still sees. ...”

“Blind God?” Aurian snorted. “Well, I see his arrogance has not been blunted by the years—nor by what Eliseth did to him. I was hoping she’d finished him for good. . . .”

“No you weren’t.” Forral looked at her shrewdly. “I know you better than that, Aurian. You wanted to finish him yourself.”

“And?” the Mage challenged.

“Yes, yes,” Forral grinned. “You know that I want to finish him, too. You must admit, love—I’ve a damned good reason.”

“So what is this cult of the Blind God, Basileus?” Chiamh interrupted.

“At the full of the moon, and at the dark of the moon, one of the Xandim—usually a criminal, or one who has earned the displeasure of the Herdlord and the Council of Elders—is brought up to the Field of Stones and sacrificed.—The Xandim purportedly earn the favor and protection of the Blind God—not to mention immunity from his wrath—though it seems to me that the Council and the Herdlord perpetuate this brutality to get rid of those against whom they bear grudges. The god, on the other hand, gains ...”

“Don’t call him a god,” Aurian said tightly. “His name is Miathan, and I know what he gains. The monster is feeding on the life force of his victims to increase his powers.”

“Well, he won’t be doing it much longer,” Forral said grimly.

The Mage nodded agreement. “There’ll never be another chance like this. It’s time to complete our unfinished business with the Archmage.”

Forral was awakened by a cold nose poking in his ear. He jumped up, reaching for his sword—and found that his assailant was only Wolf. The swordsman sat down again and took deep breaths to slow his racing heart. “Ho, Wolf,” he said tentatively in mind-speech. “What’s the matter?”

The wolf whined and stretched out its forelegs, dropping its nose down to its paws and cocking its ears. “Are you really my father?” it asked.

The question, coming out of nowhere as it did, took Forral completely unawares. “Yes,” he said firmly. “As a matter of fact, I am.”

Wolf gave a little whine- “I don’t understand. Grandma Eilin said you had brown hair, and a beard. She said you were dead. Everybody said that—except Shia, and she won’t even talk about it.”

“Hasn’t your mother told you all about this?” Forral asked in some surprise.

“I should have thought . . .”

“Well, it was my fault, really. I wouldn’t talk to her at first, because I thought she didn’t want me—then when I got on the ship, there was just no time. She never really had a chance to explain.”

“All right,” he said to his son, “I’ll explain instead. This is what happened.

. . .”

It took some time to tell the entire tale. Wolf was full of questions, and Forral found himself having to reach back into his memory to relate incidents even as far back as Aurian’s childhood, to clarify his relationship with the Mage. When he discovered that the Archmage who had put the curse on him was the same Miathan who had killed his father, Wolf started to growl softly. “One day,” he said, “I’m going to kill him.”

You won’t have to, my son, Forral thought—because I intend to kill the bastard myself.

The Mage awakened in the night to find Chiamh shaking her shoulder gently.

“What?” she muttered in sleepy irritation. “What’s wrong?”

The Windeye held a finger to his lips for silence. “Come with me,” he whispered.

The Mage sighed, fastened her clothing, and strapped on her sword.

“Make sure you bring the Staff,” Chiamh whispered. With a shrug, Aurian slipped it through her belt as usual, and slung the harp on her back for good measure, before slinging her cloak around her shoulders and pulling on her boots. Then, walking softly and carefully so as not to wake the others, she got out of the cave, following the Windeye and wondering in the name of perdition was going on. As they left the cavern, they came across Shia, on guard at the entrance. “Where do you two think you’re going?” she asked.

“Just up to my Chamber of Winds,” Chiamh replied. “What?” Aurian hissed aloud.

“Oh no we bloody aren’t!” She turned to go back into the cave, but Chiamh caught hold of her arm. “Truly, this is important,” he insisted. “Come at here where we can talk.”

The Mage went with him as far as the pool, with its water like a drift of pale smoke and its roiling surface aglimmer with a filigree of moonlight. Here she stopped and swung round to face the Windeye, hands on hips. “Well?”

“Listen,” Chiamh said urgently. “I don’t know much about this Miathan, but I do know one thing—you should not try to fight him without the Staff of Earth.—I’ve been talking to Basileus about the trouble you were having with the Staff—and he thinks we can put it right.”

For an instant, Aurian wasn’t sure she had heard him properly. Then the anger took over. “You talked to Basileus?” she said in a voice that was deceptively calm and quiet. “You discussed my private business—my personal shame—with that Moldan?”

“Curse it, what was I supposed to do?” the Windeye flung back at her. “He knew, Aurian. He asked me. He’s an Earth-elemental—he could sense immediately that something had happened to the Staff.”

“Well, if he knew, why the suffering blazes didn’t he ask me?”

“Because he wanted to know whether he’d be able to help you before he talked to you,” Chiamh told her patiently. “He didn’t want to get your hopes up for nothing.”

“Get my hopes up?” Aurian blazed. “I’m not a bloody child!”

“Then stop acting like one, damn it,” Chiamh roared at her. “Don’t you hear what I’m saying? Basileus can help you. Or would you rather throw away this one priceless opportunity to save the Staff through your accursed, stubborn, stiff-necked Magefolk pride?”

The Mage shut her mouth with a snap. She had never heard the Windeye lose his temper before. The shock cooled her anger instantly, as though he had thrown icy water at her, instead of hot words. “I’m sorry, Chiamh,” she said. “I’m acting like a fool. It’s just that—” Her voice caught, and she cleared her throat. “I’m truly ashamed of what I did.”

The Windeye caught hold of her hands. “If the Staff’s powers return, will you finally believe you can forgive yourself?”

The ghost of a smile crept onto the Mage’s face. “You know what? I think I might.”

“Good. In that case, let’s make a start.” Chiamh gestured toward the pinnacle.

“The first thing you must do is climb up to the Chamber of Winds.”

Aurian’s face fell. “Must we? Surely we could fly—it would be a whole lot safer.”

“No,” the Windeye told her firmly. “That wasn’t what Basileus said. He said that if you want to redeem yourself you must meet this challenge, and conquer your own fear. And if ill notice, I didn’t say ‘we.’ I’m sorry, Aurian. I’m afraid it’s something you must do on your own.”