The Ironhand's Daughter

CHAPTER XI

'BY GOD, SHE'S some woman,' said Obrin, peeling off his jerkin and sitting by the fire. 'They fell just like she said they would. Like skittles! I could scarce believe it, Fell. When I rode up to that Farlain fort my heart was in my mouth. The officer just ordered the gates opened, listened to my report, then turned over command to me and rode out. What a moment! I even told him the best route through the snow, and he rode his men into Grame's trap.'

'Grame lost no men in that first encounter, yet more than twenty when the Pallides detachment was ambushed,' said Fell.

'That's nothing compared with the two hundred we slew in those engagements,' pointed out Obrin.

'But it's a damn shame the men from the Loda fort escaped. I still don't know what went wrong there.'

'They simply got lost,' said Fell, 'and missed the trap. No one's fault.'

Obrin reached for a pottery jug and pulled the cork. 'The Baron's wine,' he said, with a dry chuckle. 'There were six jugs in each fort. It's a good vintage - try some.'

Fell shook his head. 'I think I'll take a walk,' he said.

'What's wrong, Fell?'

'Nothing. I just need to walk.'

Obrin replaced the cork and looked hard at the handsome forester. 'I'm not the most intuitive of men, Fell. But I've been a sergeant for twelve years and I know when something is eating at a man.

What is it? Fear? Apprehension?'

Fell smiled wearily. 'Is it so obvious then?'

'It is to me, but your men must not see it. That is one of the secrets of leadership, Fell. Your confidence becomes their confidence. They feed off you, like wolf cubs suckling at the mother's teats. If you despair, they despair.'

Fell chuckled. 'I've never been compared with a mother wolf before. Pass the jug!' He took several long swallows. 'You're right,' he said, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. 'The wine is good. But I don't fear the Outlanders, Obrin. I am not afraid to die for my people. What gnaws at me is more personal. I shall make sure that my feelings do not show as strongly in the future.'

'Sigarni,' said Obrin, lifting the jug.

'How would you know that?' asked Fell, surprised.

Obrin grinned. 'I listen, Fell. That's another secret of leadership. You were lovers, but now you are not. Don't let it concern you. You're a good-looking lad and there are plenty of women who'd love to warm your bed.'

Fell shook his head. 'That's not the whole reason for my sadness. You didn't know her when she was just the huntress. God, man, she was a wonder! Strong and fearless, but more than that she had a love for life and a laugh that was magical. She could make a cold day of drizzle and grey sky suddenly seem beautiful. She was a woman. What is she now? Have you ever seen her laugh? Or even smile at a jest? Sweet Heaven, she's become a creature of ice, a winter queen.' Fell drank again, long and deeply.

'There's not been a great deal to laugh about,' observed Obrin, 'but I hear what you say. I once owned a crystal sphere. There was a rose set inside, as if trapped in ice. I've always loved roses, and this was one of the most beautiful blooms, rich and velvet red. It would live for ever.

Yet it had no scent, and would not seed.'

'That is it,' said Fell. 'Exactly that! Like the Crown of Alwen - all men can see it, none can touch it.'

Obrin smiled. 'I've often heard Highlanders talk of the lost Crown. Is it a myth?'

Fell shook his head. 'I saw it when I was ten. It appears once every twenty-five years, at the centre of the pool at Ironhand's Falls. It's beautiful, man. It is more a helmet than a crown, and the silver shines like captured moonlight. There are silver wings, flat against the helm like those of a hawk when it dives, and a golden band around the brow inscribed with ancient runes. It has a nasal guard - like an Outland helm- and this is also silver, as are the cheek-guards. I was there with my father. It was the winter before he went down with the plague, my last winter with him. He took me to the Falls and we stood there with the gathered clans. I could not see at first, and he lifted me to his shoulders. A man cursed behind us, but then the Crown appeared. It shimmered for maybe ten, twelve heartbeats. Then it was gone. Man, what a night!'

'Sounds like a conjuring trick to me,' said Obrin. 'I've seen magickers make birds of gold that fly high into the air and explode in showers of coloured sparks.'

'It was no trick,' said Fell, without a hint of anger. 'Alwen was Ironhand's uncle. He had no children, and he hated Ironhand. When he was dying he ordered one of his wizards to hide the Crown where Ironhand would never find it, thus condemning his nephew to a reign fraught with civil war and insurrection. Without it, Ironhand was a King with no credentials. You understand?'

'It makes no sense to me,' said Obrin. 'He had right of blood. Why did he need a piece of metal?'

'The Crown had magical properties. Only a true King could wear it. It was not made by Alwen's order, it was far older. Once, when a usurper killed the King and placed the crown on his head, his skin turned black and fire erupted from his eyes. He melted away like snow in the sunshine.'

'Hmmm,' muttered Obrin, unconvinced. "Tis a pretty tale. My tribe has many such, the Spear of Goldark, the Sword of Kal-thyn. Maybe one day I'll see this Crown. But you were talking of Sigarni. If you loved her, and she you, why did it end?'

'I was a fool. I wanted sons, Obrin. It's important in the Highlands. I had a need to watch my boys grow, to teach them of forestry and hunting, to instil in them a love of the land. Sigarni is barren - like your rose in crystal. I walked away from her. But not an hour has passed since when her face does not shine in my memories. Even when I lay with my wife, Gwen, all I could see was Sigarni. It was the worst mistake of my life.' Fell drained the last of the wine and lay back on the floor of the hut. 'I'd just like to see her laugh once more... to be the way she was.' He closed his eyes.

Obrin sat quietly as Fell's breathing deepened.

You're wrong, Fell, he thought. I know what war is, and I know the pain and terror that is coming.

Given a choice I'd keep Sigarni the way she is, the Ice Queen, the cold-hearted warrior woman whose strategies have already seen three enemy forts overcome, and several tons of supplies brought into the encampments.

Obrin pulled on his jerkin and stepped out into the night.

*

Sigarni was tired. The morning had been a long one, discussing supplies with Tovi, organizing patrols with Grame and Fell, then poring over the battle plans drawn up by Asmidir and Ari, listening to Obrin's tales of woe concerning training.

'We've not the time to train them properly,' said the stocky Outlander. 'I've got them responding to the hunting horn for attack and retreat and re-form. But that is it! Your army will be like a spear, Sigarni. One throw is all you get.'

She felt as if her mind could take not one more ounce of pressure, and had walked with Lady to a hill-top to look upon the ageless beauty of High Druin, hoping to steal a fragment of its eternal peace.

Two of Asmidir's Al-jfttn walked twenty paces behind her, never speaking but always present. At first their ceaseless vigilance had been a source of irritation, but now she found their silent presence reassuring. A stand of trees grew across the hill-top, and these gave some shelter from the wind as Sigarni stared out over the winter landscape at the brooding magnificence of High Druin, its sharp peaks spearing the clouds. Down on the slopes leading to the valley she could see Loda children tobogganing, and hear the squeals of their laughter. The sounds were shrill, and echoed in the mountains.

Will they still be laughing in a few weeks, she wondered?

Taliesen had disappeared again, gone to whatever secret place wizards inhabit, and his last words to her echoed constantly in her memory: 'The Pallides will ask for a sign.'

'They already have,' she had told him.

'No, no, listen to me!' They will ask for something specific. When they do, agree to it. Don't hesitate. I will be back when I have prepared the way. Will you trust me?'

'You have given me no reason to distrust you. But what if they ask me to supply the moon on a silver salver?'

'Say that you will,' he said, with a dry laugh. He threw his tattered cloak of feathers around his scrawny frame, and his smile faded. 'They will not ask that, but it will seem as difficult.

Remember my words, Sigarni. I will be back before the first snowdrops of spring. We will meet by Ironhand's Falls in twelve days.'

Lady brushed against her leg and whined. Sigarni knelt and stroked her long ears.'I have neglected you, my lovely,' she said. 'I am sorry.' Lady's long nose pushed against Sigarni's cheek and she felt the hound's warm tongue on her face. 'You are so forgiving.' She patted Lady's dark flank.

'She wishes solitude,' she heard one of her guards say. Sigarni turned to see a tall, dark-haired woman standing with the two men.

'Let her through,' she called. The woman gave the black men a wide berth and walked up the hillside. She was thin of face, with a prominent nose, but her large brown eyes gave her face a semblance of beauty. 'You wish to speak with me?' said Sigarni.

'I do. I am Layelia, the wife of Torgan.'

'There is no place for him among my officers,' said Sigarni sternly. 'He is a fool.'

'That is a trait shared by most men I have met,' said Layelia. 'But then war is a foolish game.'

'Have you come to plead for him?'

'No. He will regain his honour - or he will not. That is for him. I came to speak with you. I have questions.'

Sigarni removed her cloak and spread it over the snow. 'Come, sit with me. Why not more questions?

That is my life now. Endless questions, each with a hundred answers.'

'You look tired,' said Layelia. 'You should rest more.'

'I will when there is time. Now ask your questions.'

The dark-haired woman was silent for a moment, staring deeply into Sigarni's pale blue eyes. 'What if we win?' she asked, at last.

Sigarni laughed. 'If we lose we die. That is all I know. My God, I certainly have no time to think of the aftermath of a victory that is by no means certain.'

'I think you should,' said Layelia softly. 'If you don't, then you are just like a man, never seeing beyond the end of your nose.'

Sigarni sighed. 'You are correct, I am tired. So let us assume the hare is bagged, and move on to the cooking. What do you want?'

Layelia chuckled. 'I have heard a lot about you, Sigarni. You have lived a life many women - myself included - would envy. But I don't envy you now, trying to adjust to a world of men. I ask about victory for a simple, selfish reason. I have children, and I want those children to grow in the Highland way, with their father beside them, learning about cattle and crops, family, clan and honour. The Outlanders threaten our way of life - not just by their invasion, but by our resistance. Tell me this, if you beat the Baron, what then? Is it over?'

'No,' admitted Sigarni. 'They will send another army.'

'And how will you combat them?'

'In whatever way I can,' said Sigarni guardedly.

'You will be forced to attack the Lowland cities, sack their treasuries and hire mercenaries.'

Sigarni smiled grimly. 'Perhaps.'

'And if you defeat the next army, will that end the war?'

'I don't know!' snapped Sigarni, 'but I doubt it. Where is this leading?'

'It seems to me,' said Layelia sadly, 'that win or lose our way of life is finished. The war will go on and on. The more you win, the further away you will take our men - perhaps all the way to the Outland capital. What then, when the outlying armies of their empire gather? Will you be fighting in Kushir in ten years?'

'If I am, it will not be from choice,' Sigarni told her. 'I hear you, Layelia, and I understand what you are saying. If there is a way I can avoid what you fear, then I will. You have my word on that.'

The dark-haired woman smiled, and laid her hand on Sigarni's arm. 'I believe you. You know, I have always thought the world would be a better place with women as leaders. We wouldn't fight stupid wars over worthless pieces of land; we would talk to one another, and reach compromises that would suit both factions. I know that you have to be a war leader, Sigarni, but I ask that you be a woman leader, and not just a pretend man in armour.'

'You are very forthright, Layelia. A shame you were not so forthright with Torgan.'

'I did my best,' said the other, with a wry smile, 'but he was not gifted with a good brain. He is, however, a fine partner in bed, so I will not complain too much.'

Sigarni's laughter rang out. 'I'm glad he is good at something.'

'He is also a good father,' said Layelia. 'The children adore him, and he plays with them constantly.'

'I am sorry,' said Sigarni. 'I have obviously not seen the best of him. Have you been married long?'

'Fourteen years come summer.' She smiled. 'He hasn't changed much in those years, save to lose some of his hair. It's beautiful here, isn't it, the sun gleaming on High Druin?'

'Yes,' Sigarni agreed.

Layelia rose. 'I have taken too much of your time. I will leave you to your thoughts."

Sigarni stood. 'Thank you, Layelia. I feel refreshed, though I don't know why.'

'You've spent too long in the company of men,' said Layelia. 'Perhaps we should talk again?'

'I would enjoy that.'

Layelia stepped forward and embraced the silver-haired warrior woman, kissing her on both cheeks.

Sigarni felt hot tears spill to her face. Abruptly she pulled clear and turned back towards High Druin.

*

'You shouldn't have brought me,' grumbled Ballistar. 'I'm slowing you down.'

'That's true,' grunted Sigarni, as they faced yet another deep snow-drift. 'But you're such good company!'

Ballistar shifted on her shoulders. 'Put me down and we'll see if we can crawl along the top of it. There should be solid ground about thirty feet ahead. Then it is just one more hill to the Falls.'

Sigarni swivelled and tipped the little man from her shoulders. He fell head-first into the drift, and came up spluttering and spitting snow. 'You are heavy for a small man,' she said laughing.

'And you have the boniest shoulders I ever sat upon,' he told her, brushing snow from his beard.

Turning to his stomach, Ballistar began to squirm across the snow. Sigarni followed him, using her arms to force a path. After an hour of effort they reached solid ground and sat for a while, gathering their strength. 'I'm freezing to death,' muttered Ballistar. 'I hope you left enough firewood in the cave. I'm in no mood to go gathering.'

'Enough for a couple of hours,' she reassured him.

The Falls were still frozen at the centre, but at the sides water had begun to trickle through the ice. 'The thaw is coming,' said the dwarf.

'I know,' said Sigarni softly.

Inside the cave Sigarni started a fire and they shrugged out of their soaked outer clothing. 'So why did you bring me?' asked Ballistar.

'I thought you'd enjoy my company,' she told him.

'That's not very convincing.'

She looked at him, and remembered how out of place he had seemed back at the encampment, how lonely and sad. 'I wanted company,' she said, 'and I could think of no one else I would rather have with me.'

He blushed and looked away. 'I'll accept that,' he said brightly. 'Do you remember when we used to play here as children? You, me, Fell and Bernt built a tree house. It fell apart in the big storm.

Fell was climbing and the floor gave way. You remember?'

Sigarni nodded. 'Bernt stole the nails from Grame. More nails in that structure than wood.'

'It was fun, wasn't it?'

'Fun? You were always arguing with the others, getting into scrapes and fights.'

'I know,' he said. 'I was young then, and not growing like the rest of you. But I look back on those times as the happiest of my life. Do you think the others would?'

'Bernt no longer looks back,' she said, her voice almost a whisper.

'Oh, I'm sorry, Sigarni. I wasn't thinking.' Reaching out, he took her slender hand in his own, his stubby fingers caressing her wrist. 'It wasn't your fault, not really. I think if you had gone he would still have killed himself had you turned him down. It was his life; he chose to take it.'

Sigarni shook her head. 'I don't think that is the whole truth. Had I known the outcome beforehand I would have acted differently. But now I think about how I was lying in bed with Asmidir, enjoying myself utterly.' She sighed. 'And while I was being pleasured, Bernt was tying a rope around his neck.'

Ballistar looked away and fiddled with the fire, poking small sticks into the flames. 'Now I have embarrassed you,' she said.

'Yes, you have,' he told her, reddening. 'But we are friends, Sigarni. We always will be. I don't want you to feel there are words you cannot say in my presence. When is the wizard due?' he asked, changing the subject.

'Tomorrow.'

'I wish he'd chosen a more hospitable meeting place.'

'It had to be here,' she said. 'He knew what the Pallides would ask of me.'

'Madness!' snapped Ballistar. 'Who do they think they are? Here we sit on the verge of war and they play games. Do they believe they can win without us?'

'No, my friend, they don't think that. Their Dreamers have told them that the leader will wear the Crown of Alwen. If that is true, then I must find it. Taliesen will have a plan.'

'I don't like wizards,' said the dwarf.

'I remember you saying that about Asmidir. A black sorcerer, you called him.'

'I still don't like him. Are you still lovers?'

'No!' Her voice was sharper than she intended and Ballistar gazed at her quizzically.

'Did he wrong you?'

She shook her head. 'I don't want to talk about it. I want your help before dusk. I want you to come with me to the far side of the pool and break the ice.'

'Why?' he asked, mystified.

'I need to swim.'

'That's ridiculous! The cold will kill you.'

'You can wait for me with a blanket,' she said.

'There's something you are not telling me. What are you looking for?'

Sigarni stretched out her hand to the fire. The cave was glowing now in the firelight, and the sounds of winter outside only served to make it seem more cosy within. 'I am going to find a small bone,' she said. 'A talisman if you like, a good luck charm.'

'Whose bones?' he asked, wide eyed.

'Ironhand.'

Ballistar's jaw dropped. 'You found his bones? He didn't pass over the Gateway?'

'No. He died here fighting his enemies.'

'How will a bone help you?'

'Enough questions, Balli. Come on, we're warm enough now.'

Together they left the cave and trudged across the snow-covered ice of the pool. Sigarni found the boulder under which the bones lay, and she and Ballistar began to chip away at the surrounding ice with their knives. It was slow work and Ballistar lost his patience. Climbing to the top of the jutting boulder he jumped to the ice, landing hard. Four times more he did so, then on the fifth a large crack appeared. 'Almost there,' he said. Suddenly the ice gave and he fell through into the dark water beneath. Sigarni dived across the ice, her hand snaking out to grab his collar just as he was about to sink. With a great effort she hauled him back.

'You'd better get back to the cave,' she said.

'No, no, I'm all right,' he said, shivering. 'Can you reach the bones from here?'

'I don't know. I'll have to be fast.' Slipping out of her clothes, she slithered into the water.

'Be careful, there's an undertow,' warned Ballistar.

The cold chilled her to the bone, and all was darkness. Holding to the boulder, she released some air and dived deeper. Her hand touched the bottom and she scrabbled around, but could feel nothing but stones. Something sharp cut the palm of her hand. The sudden shock caused her to breathe out and, her lungs aching, she rose towards the surface. Her head thumped against ice.

She had missed the opening.

Holding down panic she rolled to her back, pushing her face towards the ice. There was always a tiny gap between ice and water, and she breathed in deeply. The cold was bitter now and she could not feel her fingers.

'You stupid woman!' she thought. 'To come so far and die so stupidly.'

A faint glow surrounded her. 'Why do you never call for me, child?' asked Ironhand. 'Dive to the bottom and collect what you came for, then follow me to the surface.'

Filling her lungs with air she rolled and dived, kicking out against the ice to propel herself down. In the glow she saw Ironhand sitting on the pool floor; beside him was a human head but she did not recognize the face. On the other side of the ghostly giant lay his bones. Swiftly she grabbed a finger-bone and rose towards the surface.

As she broke clear Ballistar took hold of her arm and dragged her on to the ice.

'I was worried near to death,' complained the dwarf. Sigarni could not speak; she had begun to shake uncontrollably. 'And look, you've cut your hand,' he said, pointing to the trickle of blood on her palm.

Ballistar took up her clothes and led her back to the cave, where she sat wrapped in a blanket, her face and hands blue. 'I hope that bone was worth it,' he said.

'It... was,' she told him. 'He ... is ... here.'

'Who is?'

'Ironhand.'

'Ironhand?' he repeated. 'In the cave? With us?' Ballistar gazed around fearfully. 'I don't see him."

Sigarni shrugged off the blanket and moved a little way from the fire. 'Come and rub my skin,' she said. Ballistar put his hands on her shoulders and began to massage the flesh.

'So now we are dealing with wizards and ghosts,' he said.

'Lower. On my back,' she ordered.

Ballistar knelt behind her and rubbed gently at the cold skin. 'You should sit closer to the fire.'

'No. It would do more harm than good. When I am a little warmer . .. That is nice. Now my arms.'

He sat beside her, kneading her flesh, encouraging the blood to flow. He tried not to stare at her breasts, but failed. Sigarni did not seem to notice. Of course she doesn't, he thought. I am not a man to her.

'I am going to sleep now, Balli. Watch over me, and keep the fire going.'

Holding fast to the bone, she lay down by the fire. Ballistar covered her with two blankets. As she closed her eyes, he leaned down and kissed her cheek.

'What was that for?' she asked sleepily.

'I love you,' he said.

'I love you too,' she whispered. And slept.

*

The fire burned low and Ballistar added the last of the wood. Sigarni's flesh was still cool and the dwarf wandered out into the cold of the night to gather dead wood. The carcasses of the demons still lay where Sigarni had slain them, but they were not rotting; it was too cold for that.

They'll smell bad come spring, thought Ballistar as he wandered beneath the trees, kicking at the snow and seeking fuel.

'Over there,' said a voice. 'Beneath the oaks.'

Ballister leapt, turned and fell over. Standing beside him was a glowing figure in ancient armour, his white beard braided into forks. He wore a long, double-handed broadsword in a scabbard of embossed silver - and the hand resting on it was made of red iron. 'By Heaven, you are skittish,'

said the ghost. 'Are you going to fetch the wood or not?'

'Yes, lord,' answered Ballistar.

'I'm not your lord, dwarf. I am merely a spirit. Now fetch the wood before she freezes to death.'

Ballistar nodded, and dug around in the snow beneath the oaks, gadiering dead wood, then returning to the cave. The glowing figure stayed by him, watching his efforts. 'It cannot be easy to live in such a body,' he said.

'A choice would be pleasant,' muttered Ballistar.

'You've a handsome face, lad. Be thankful for small gifts.'

'All my gifts are small - bar one. And I'll never get to use that,' answered Ballistar, kneeling by the fire and placing two long sticks upon it.

The ghost assumed a sitting position by the fire. 'You can never be sure,' he said. 'I had two dwarfs at my court and they were always in demand. Once I had to adjudicate in a very delicate matter, where a knight cited one of my dwarfs as his wife's secret lover. He wanted the dwarf hanged and his wife burned at the stake.'.

'What did you do? Did you kill them?'

'Do I look like a barbarian? I told the knight that he would be laughed out of the kingdom if he sought a public trial. The wife was sent back to her family in disgrace. I had the dwarf castrated. However, that is not the point. Never lose faith, little man.'

'Well, thank you for your advice,' snapped Ballistar. 'However. I have not yet met a woman who would wish to have me clamber all over her.' He told the spirit of Bakris' jest and Ironhand laughed.

'Nose to nose ... yes, that's very good. How did you respond?'

'I laughed with them - though it broke my heart.'

'Aye, it's the best way." He leaned forward, peering at Sigarni. 'Is she wanning up?' he asked.

Ballistar moved alongside the sleeping woman and touched the flesh of her arm. 'A little. She was seeking your bones. Damn near died for it.'

'I know, I was there. Wilful child.' The ghost smiled. 'She can't help it, it is in her blood. I was wilful myself. How is the war progressing?'

'I would have thought you'd know more about that than a mere dwarf,' said Ballistar. 'Can spirits not fly around the world?'

'I don't know any spirits,' said Ironhand. 'But I cannot. I'm trapped here, where I died. Well, until now. Wherever Sigarni goes, I shall go too.'

'That's a comforting thought. I think you'll cause a certain amount of panic back at the encampment.'

Ironhand shook his head. 'No one will see me, boy- not even you. I only showed myself to you since Sigarni was foolish enough to tell you about me. So, what is happening?'

Ballistar told the King of the Pallides' request that Sigarni should find the lost Crown. 'We are waiting for Taliesen,' he concluded. 'He'll show us where it is.'

'Oh, I know where it is,' said Ironhand. 'That won't be the problem. Getting there and out again alive is the issue.'

'Where is it?'

'In a dying world of sorcery, a dark malevolent place. Even the air is poisonous with magic. No true man can live there for more than a few months. He would sicken and die. One of my wizards tracked it down and passed through a Gateway to retrieve it; we never saw him again. A second followed him; he came back broken and diseased, not all our medicines and charms could heal him.

But while he lived he told us of the world, its beasts, and its wars. I decided then to send no more of my people in search of the Crown.'

'But Sigarni must go there,' said Ballistar. 'Without the Crown the Pallides will not accept her leadership. They might believe you, though. You could appear to Fyon Sharp-axe and tell him Sigarni is the chosen one.'

The ghost shook his head. 'It might work, but then Sigarni would rule only through a long-dead king. No Ballistar, she must win the right for herself. When my wizard returned he told me the Crown was in a temple, at the centre of a city at war. He saw it, was even allowed to touch it. I think he believed that to do so would heal him of his afflictions in that world. It didn't.'

'You say allowed to touch it. There are people there?'

'Aye, there are people. They cling to life in a world of death.'

'What is killing them?'

'There is no sun to bring life to the land. The city was built inside a forest of dead trees.

There is no grass, and no crops grow. The land is in perpetual twilight. The mountains there spew fire and ash, and occasionally rip themselves apart with sounds like a thousand thunders. You can see why I forbade any further ventures into that land.'

'But without cattle and crops, how do they survive?' asked Ballistar.

'On war,' the King told him.

'That makes no sense,' said the dwarf.

'It does, lad, if you have a mind dark enough to examine it.'

*

Ballistar awoke with a start and sat up blinking and afraid. He had failed Sigarni and slept.

Swiftly he rushed to her side. She was warm to the touch and sleeping deeply. Relieved, the dwarf knelt by the fire and blew the coals to glowing life, adding shreds of bark to feed the tiny flames. Once it had flared he placed two small logs atop the coals.

From Sigarni's pack he took a flat-bottomed pot and a sack of dried oats. Filling the pot with snow, he stood it upon the fire. Despite being full of snow it melted to only a tiny amount of water and Ballistar spent some time moving back and forth bringing handfuls of snow from outside the cave. When the pot was half full of water he added oats and a pinch of salt.

The sun was up, the cave-mouth lit with golden light. Bird-song could be heard from the trees outside and the air was fresh with the promise of the coming spring.

Sigarni awoke and stretched. The blanket slid from her naked body. 'Ah, breakfast,' she said.

'What a fine companion you are, Ballistar.'

'I live to serve, my queen,' he said, making an elaborate bow.

'No sign of Taliesen?'

'Not yet, but the dawn has only just arrived.' Using two long sticks, Ballistar lifted the pot from the fire and stirred the contents, which had thickened considerably. 'You brought no honey,'

he chided her. 'Porridge is bland and tasteless without it.'

'I had to carry enough food for two. Come to think of it, I had to carry you as well for a while.

There was no room for honey. Have you slept?'

'A little,' he admitted.

She smiled. 'The next time I suggest a swim under the ice, be so kind as to remind me of my previous stupidity.'

'I will. How are you feeling?'

'Rested, and at peace for the first time in weeks. No plans to study, no quarrels to adjudicate, no ruffled feathers to smooth. Just breakfast at dawn in a peaceful cave, enjoying good company.'

'I trust you include me in that description?' said Taliesen, stepping into the cave and brushing snow from his tattered cloak of feathers. Sigarni nodded, but her smile had faded.

'Welcome, Taliesen.'

The old man made his way to the fire and sat. 'You have a beautiful body, Sigarni. Fifty years ago it would have inspired me to carnal thoughts. Now, however, I can appreciate its beauty on an entirely different level. I take it the Pallides asked for the Crown?' Sigarni nodded and rose from bed, dressing swiftly. 'It will not be easy - and yet you must not dally,' continued Taliesen. 'I will send you through the Gateway as soon as you are dressed."

'The world beyond is poisonous,' said Ballistar coldly. 'She could die there.'

Taliesen swung to him. 'It is very rare that I am surprised, dwarf. Yet you have accomplished it.

How is it that you know of Yur-vale?'

'I am a creature of legend,' said Ballistar, with a wide grin. 'I know many things.'

'Then perhaps you would like to continue my story?'

'Gladly,' said Ballistar, who then told Sigarni all that Ironhand had confided to him the night before. The dwarf took great pleasure in the look of amazement that Taliesen sought to disguise.

When he had finished Ballistar moved to Sigarni's pack, pulling out two shallow bowls. Ladling porridge into each, he passed one to Sigarni. 'You are welcome to eat from the pot,' he told Taliesen.

'I am not hungry!' snapped the wizard. 'Is there anything else you wish to add about Yur-vale?'

'No,' said Ballistar happily. 'Do continue.'

The wizard cast him a baleful glance. 'Yur-vale was once a paradise. There was no physical ugliness there, and no natural disease - at least no disease that affects the inhabitants. It was a land of beauty and light. Now it is the opposite. It is an ocean world, with a very small land mass at the equator. The land mass has two great cities, and these are in a perpetual state of war. The war is necessary, for reasons we do not need to trouble ourselves with. The Crown is in a temple at the centre of the city of Zir-vak. It is a city under siege and you will need to enter it by means of a black river which flows through it. Do not drink the water; it has been polluted by volcanic ash. The city's inhabitants have a way of purifying the water, involving filters. Once inside the city, the water you find will be good to drink. Take food with you, and eat nothing offered to you during your stay - no matter how appetizing it looks.'

'How do I get there?' asked Sigarni.

'There is a Gateway close to the Falls. I will send you through and you will arrive at a point some seven miles south of the city. Since you will not see the sun, you must head for a set of twin peaks you will see to the north. When you return to the Gateway you will make a cut upon your arm and allow blood to drop on each of the six standing stones that make up the circle. I will then bring you back.'

'Bring us back,' put in Ballistar.

'I go alone,' said Sigarni. Ballistar was about to argue, when Taliesen cut in.

'I agree with him,' said Taliesen, with a rare smile. 'Take the dwarf. He will be of use.'

Ballistar was surprised. 'Why do you support me, wizard? I know you have no love for me.'

'Perhaps that is why I support you,' said Taliesen. 'Have you brought weapons?"

'Yes,' said Sigarni. 'Bows, knives and my sabre.'

'Good. Now, if you are both ready, we should depart.'

Sigarni took a small pouch from her pack and dropped the finger-bone of Ironhand into it. Looping a thong through the pouch, she tied it around her neck.

'What is that?' asked Taliesen.

'A talisman,' she told him.

Ballistar thought he was about to speak, but Taliesen said nothing. The wizard rose. 'When you have cleaned and stowed your pots, I will be waiting for you on the other side of the pool,' he said, and padded out of the cave.

'Are you sure you want to come with me, Balli?' asked Sigarni.

'Always,' he said.

*

They found Taliesen waiting by a cliff-face some two hundred yards from Ironhand's burial place.

Sigarni had played there as a child, and she and her friends had often debated the meaning of the strange symbols carved on the rocks. The area was flat, as if smoothed by man, and deep grooves had been chiselled from the rock in the shape of a tall rectangular door. There was also evidence of an inscription, though wind and rain, snow and hail had long since eroded the greater part of it.

'This is one of the Lesser Gateways,' said Taliesen. 'It does not allow movement through our time, but does serve to open time doorways to other realities. Now remember what I said. Do not drink of the water of the black river, nor eat any meat offered to you. This is vital. I knew a sorcerer once who went there and ate a little pork; it swelled inside him and ripped him apart. Yur-vale is a world of great magic, and you are strangers to it. Because of your very strangeness its power will be many times greater around you. Bear this in mind. Now, you know where you are heading?'

'Seven miles towards the twin peaks,' said Sigarni.

'Good. Now my bones are freezing here, so let us begin. Are you ready?' Sigarni nodded and Taliesen turned to Ballistar. 'And you, dwarf? There is still time to change your mind. What awaits you is not pleasant. Your worst nightmare is beyond this Gate.'

Ballistar thought he detected a note of concern in the wizard's voice, and felt his fears rise. 'I will travel with Sigarni,' he said stoutly. Reaching up, he took hold of her hand.

'Then let it begin,' said Taliesen. The old wizard closed his eyes and spoke softly in a language unknown to either of the Highlanders. It was soft and fluent, almost musical. Pale light flooded from the rectangular grooves in the rock face, which became translucent, and then transparent, and Sigarni found herself staring through it at a cold, grey landscape. 'Step through quickly,' said Taliesen. 'It will hold for a few seconds only.'

The silver-haired woman and the dwarf stepped through the portal. Sigarni shivered as she passed through, for it was like walking through a waterfall, cold and yet not as refreshing. On the other side they found themselves standing within a circle of six tall granite stones. Sigarni swung round in time to see Taliesen fade away to nothing.

'Well, we are here,' she said, turning back to Ballistar. The dwarf was lying on the ground, his body twitching. 'Balli! Are you ill?'

His body began to writhe.

And stretch ..

Dropping her bow and loosing her pack, Sigarni knelt beside him. His limbs were thrashing around, his legs jutting now from his tiny trousers. The small doeskin boots split as his feet grew. His black leather belt snapped. Sigarni moved back from him and waited. Finally the spasmodic twitching eased and she found herself gazing down at a healthy young man in torn clothes and shreded boots. Part of one boot was still around the ankle like an adornment. Ballistar groaned and sat up. 'What happened to me?' he asked. Then he saw his arms, full length and strong, with long, slender fingers, and his legs. He scrambled to his feet and found himself staring into Sigarni's eyes. 'Oh God, dear God,' he said. 'I'm a man!'

Throwing his arms around the stunned Sigarni, he kissed her cheek. 'I'm a man,' he said again.

'Look at me, Sigarni!'

'You look very fine,' she said, with a smile. 'Truly this is a magical place.'

'He said my worst nightmare awaited me. How wrong can a man be? This is everything I dreamt of.

Now I will be able to stand with the others and fight the Outlanders. No more jibes and cruel jokes. Oh, Sigarni..." Abruptly he sat down and began to weep.

'I brought a spare tunic and leggings,' said Sigarni. 'I think they might fit you. Even if they don't, they'll look better than the rags you are wearing.'

He nodded and moved to her pack. 'I could even get married,' he said, 'and sire sons. Tall sons!'

'You always were handsome, Balli, and you'll make a fine father. Now stop talking and get dressed, we must be moving on.'

Sigarni gazed at the bleak landscape, the sky was slate-grey and the air smelt acrid. Far to the east she could see fires on the horizon as two distant volcanoes spewed hot ash and lava out over the land. 'Not a hospitable place,' she said.

'I think it's wonderful,' said Ballistar.

She turned to see him struggling out of his ruined leggings. 'By Heaven, Balli, has that grown also?'

He giggled. 'No, it was always this big. Do you like it?'

She laughed. 'Just cover it, you fool!'

Ballistar dressed and tied the thongs of his new green leggings. They are a little tight,' he said. 'Am I as tall as Fell?'

'No. But you are taller than Bakris and Gwyn. That will have to do.'

Sigarni reached for her bow - and froze. The weapon had rooted itself in the ground and small, slender branches were growing from it. 'Would you look at that!' she said. Roots were spreading out from the bow, delving into the grey, ash-covered ground.

'What about your arrows?' asked Ballistar. Sigarni swung her quiver clear and pulled a shaft from it; it was unmarked. At that moment a single ray of sunshine seared through the ash-grey sky, a pillar of light bathing what had once been a bow and was now a swiftly growing tree. The sudden warmth was welcome and Sigarni glanced up at the sky, enjoying the feeling of sunlight on her skin. Then it was gone.

Something moved against her chest and, startled, Sigarni glanced down. The small leather pouch was bulging now, and writhing, as if a large rat were inside. Swiftly she ripped it from her neck and hurled it to the ground. The leather split and a white bone protruded, others joining to it. As with Ballistar the bones stretched and grew, cartilage and ligaments slithering over them, pulling joints into sockets. At last a huge skeleton lay on the volcanic ash.

For a moment nothing more happened. Then suddenly, in a vivid burst of colour, red muscle and sinew, flesh and veins danced along its frame, covering lungs and liver, heart and kidneys. Skin flowed over the whole, and silver hair sprouted from head and chin.

For a while Ironhand lay naked on the ground, then took a long shuddering breath. His eyes opened, and he saw Sigarni. 'I can feel,' he said. 'The ground beneath me, the air in my lungs. How is this possible?'

'I have no idea,' said Sigarni, removing her green cloak. She cut a hole in the centre and passed it to the naked man.

Ironhand stood and looped it over his head. 'Where are we?'

'In the land of Yur-vale,' Sigarni told him. 'Taliesen sent us through a magical Gateway.'

'It is puzzling,' he said, 'but, by Grievak, it is good to feel again - andto have two good hands of flesh and blood,' he added, clenching his fists. 'Who is this?' he asked turning to the young man at her side.

'It is me, Ballistar the Dwarf. The magic made me grow. Though not as tall as you,' he added, with a frown.

Ironhand chuckled. 'You are tall enough, boy. What now, daughter?'

She pointed to the twin peaks. 'We make for the city and find the Crown.'

*

Yos-shiel had been a Black River trader for more than two hundred and seventy years, and remembered with great regret the ending of all that was beautiful in Yur-vale. He had been celebrating his twenty fourth birthday when the first mountain had erupted, spewing molten lava down the hillside, destroying the vineyards and the corn-fields.

It had been a bitter summer. First the war, and then the natural upheavals which hid the sun from the sky. Year by year it had grown steadily worse. Yos-shiel pushed his thin fingers through his thick white hair, and stared out of the window at the quay, where men were loading supplies on to one of the three barges he would send down to Zir-vak after dusk. Smoked fish and timber: the only two items of any worth in Yur-vale. Yos-shiel sold them for gold and water, in the vain hope that one day gold would be a viable currency once more.

The old man rose and stretched. From his window he saw a single ray of sunshine to the south and his heart swelled. How long since there had been a break in the clouds? A year? Two? several of the loaders saw it also, and all ceased their work.

A young man, seeing Yos-shiel at the window, called out, 'Is it a sign, master? Is the sun returning?'

The pillar of light vanished. 'I do not look for signs any more,' he said softly.

Stepping out into the dull light, he counted the barrels of fish. 'There should be fifty,' he said.

A huge man wearing a red shirt embroidered with gold moved into sight. 'Two were spoiled,' he said, his voice low, rumbling like distant thunder. Yos-shiel looked into the man's small, round eyes. He knew Cris-yen was lying, but the man was a thug and, he suspected, a killer. The two guards Yos-shiel had appointed to supervise the loads had mysteriously disappeared. He feared them dead.

'Very well, Cris-yen, carry on.' With a contemptuous smile the big man swung away.

'I never should have employed him,' thought Yos-shiel. 'He and his brothers will strip me of all I have. I will be lucky to escape with my life.' Glancing up at the iron sky, he suddenly smiled.

What is life worth now, he wondered? Would I miss it?

Soldiers manned the ramparts of the stockade and Yos-shiel considered asking them for help in dealing with Cris-yen. The supplies he sent were vital to the city, and his plea deserved to be heard. But then deserve has nothing to do with it, he realized. Cris-yen had made friends with the officers, giving them presents. If I go to them and they turn against me my death will come all the sooner, he thought.

Strolling to the edge of the quay, he stared down into the inky depths of the river. No fish swam there now. The fleets were forced to put out far to sea in order to make their catches.

The barge from the city came into sight, its cargo of barrels lashed to the deck. Fresh drinking water, cleaned in the charcoal filters of Zir-vak, and fresh meat for the soldiers.

Yos-shiel wandered back to his small office and continued working on his ledgers.

Just before noon he heard a commotion from outside, and saw his workers moving towards the stockade gates. Yos-shiel closed the books, cleaned the quill pen, and followed them. The gates were open and three people had entered the stockade, two men and a woman. The woman was silver-haired and strikingly beautiful. Beside her was a giant in an ill-fitting green tunic, tied at the waist with what looked like an old bow-string; he too was silver-haired. The last of the trio was a young man, dressed in green troos and a shirt too small for him.

'Where are you from?' asked Cris-yen, pushing to the front of the crowd and standing before the woman, his hands on his hips.

'South,' she said. 'We're looking for passage into the city.'

'And how will you pay me?'

The woman produced a small gold coin and Cris-yen laughed. 'That's no good here, my pretty; it doesn't put food in mouths any longer. I'll tell you what I'll do, you and me will go to the warehouse and we'll arrange something.'

'We'll find passage elsewhere,' she said, turning away. One of Cris-yen's brothers stepped forward, grabbing her arm.

'There's nowhere else, you'd better listen to him,' he said.

'Take your hand off my arm,' said the woman icily.

The man laughed. 'Or what?'

The woman ducked her head, hammering her brow into his nose. The man released her and staggered back but she leapt, her foot cracking against his chin and catapulting him back into the crowd.

Yos-shiel saw the soldiers watching from the ramparts but they made no move to interfere.

'That was an assault!' yelled Cris-yen. 'Take her!' Several men rushed forward. The woman downed the first with a straight left. The smaller of her companions rushed in and threw himself at the others; he and several men tumbled to the ground.

'That's enough!' bellowed the silver-bearded giant. The sound boomed around the stockade and all activity ceased as he stepped in close to Cris-yen. 'Well,' he said, 'you seem to be the lead bull of the pox-ridden herd. Perhaps you and I should decide the issue.'

Cris-yen said nothing, but his huge fist hammered into the man's chin. The giant took the blow and did not move. He merely grinned. 'By God, son, if that is the best you have to offer you are in serious trouble,' he said. Cris-yen tried to throw a left, whereupon the giant blocked it with his right and slapped Cris-yen open-handed across the cheek. The sound was like snapping timber. Cris-yen staggered to his right - then, head down, rushed the giant. The charge was met by a right cross that smashed Cris-yen's jaw and spun him from his feet. He hit the ground face down, twitched once and was still.

'A chin like crystal,' muttered the giant. 'Any more for the fray?' No one moved. The man walked to the unconscious Cris-yen and calmly removed the embroidered red shirt. Pulling off his own tunic, he donned the garment. 'A little tight,' he said, 'but it will do.' Without hurry he stripped Cris-yen naked and clothed himself in the man's leather leggings and black boots. 'That feels better," he said. 'Now who is in charge here?'

Yos-shiel stepped from the crowd. 'I am sir.'

'Then it is with you we should discuss passage?'

'It is. And you are welcome to travel free of any charges.'

'Good. That is most hospitable. I am Ironhand, this is my daughter Sigarni and her friend, Ballistar.'

'I can see why you earned your name,' said Yos-shiel.

*

Yos-shiel offered his guests wine and food, and if he was offended by their refusal to eat, he did not show it. Ballistar liked the little old man, and listened with relish as he told of his troubles with Cris-yen.

'I don't believe he will cause you more trouble for a while yet,' said Ironhand, 'but if you'll take my advice you'll promote a man to take his place immediately, and then dismiss all of his henchmen.'

'I shall,' said Yos-shiel, 'although I would be grateful if you could stay beside me while I do the deed.'

'Gladly,' promised Ironhand.

'I was amazed that Cris-yen fell so swiftly to you. I have seen him break men's arms, and cudgel them down with hammer blows from his fists.'

'They breed them tough where we come from,' said Ballistar.

'And where is that?' asked Yos-shiel.

'South,' answered Ballistar vaguely, wishing he had kept his mouth shut.

'We are from another world, Yos-shiel,' said Sigarni, moving to sit on the desk opposite the old man. 'We passed through a magical Gateway.'

The trader smiled, waiting for the end of the joke. When it didn't come his smile vanished. 'You

... are wizards?'

'No,' said Sigarni, 'but a wizard sent us. We have come to reclaim something that was lost in this world, and return it to our own.'

'The sunlight,' said the old man. 'That was you, in the south. What did you do?'

'I don't know what you mean,' said Sigarni. 'You mean the break in the clouds?"

'Yes. It's been years since we've seen the sun. Can you make it come at will?'

'I did nothing, Yos-shiel. It was merely my bow. The wood began to sprout leaves and root itself in the soil. Then the sun shone.'

'We had wizards once - a whole temple of them. They supervised the building of the Great Library in Zir-vak. They were blamed when the sun went away and sacrificed on the high altar. The King promised that with their deaths the mountains would stop spewing fire, but it didn't happen. In the last two hundred years there have been other prophets who claimed that blood sacrifice would appease the gods, and they would relent of their punishment. But they have not. We are a dying people, Sigarni; there is no hope for us.'

'And yet amid all this turmoil you fight a war,' she said. 'Why?'

'It was originally over a woman. The King's grandfather fell in love with a noblewoman from the east, but she was betrothed to the King of Kal-vak. Despite her pleas her father made her honour her promise, and she was sent to Kal-vak. Our King was furious - and swore he would free her. We went to war. Our troops attacked Kal-vak and were repulsed. Then the first of the mountains exploded. Each side blamed the other for the catastrophe, claiming that treachery had alienated the gods against us. At first it wasn't too terrible; the summers got shorter, and less warm, but crops still grew. But gradually the sky turned darker, and fine ash was deposited over the farmlands. Food grew scarce, save for the fish. But even these are swimming far from shore now.'

'Yet the war goes on,' said Ironhand. 'How is it that neither side has won? You said the battle was begun by the King's grandfather. How long ago was that?'

'A little more than two hundred and forty years. Most of the principal players are now dead though the war goes on for other reasons. People need to eat.'

'They eat the corpses!' whispered Ballistar.

'It is a little like pork, I am told,' said Yos-shiel. 'I have not eaten it myself, but when the time comes I don't doubt that I shall. Life is always sweet- even in the Hell of Yur-vale.' The old man sighed. 'But tell me, my friend, what is the object you seek? I may be of some assistance.'

'The Crown of Alwen,' said Sigarni.

'I know of no such object.'

'It is a winged helm, bright silver, embossed with gold.'

'The Paradise Helm,' said Yos-shiel, his eyes widening. 'You cannot take that! It is all that gives the people hope. Every twenty-five years it shows us a vision of Paradise, waterfalls and green trees, and a multitude standing around it, happy and smiling. That is our most prized artefact.'

Sigarni laid her hand on the old man's shoulders. 'What you see is my people standing by the Alwen Falls. Every quarter of a century the Crown reappears there, shimmering over the water. We all gather to see it, and you in turn, it seems, gather to see us. Tell me, Yos-shiel, of the last time the sun shone.'

'It was on the day of the old King's burial. I was there as they laid him on the funeral ship and sent it blazing on the river. The clouds broke and the sun shone for a full day. It was magnificent, there was singing and dancing in the streets."

'And before that?'

'I don't remember exactly. Wait... yes, I do. Twelve years ago, at the Feast of Athling. We saw the dawn on the following day, the sun huge and red. That lasted only minutes.'

'What happened on the next feast day?'

'You don't understand, the Feast of Athling corresponds with the public display of the Paradise Helm. It happens only four times a century.'

For some time Sigarni questioned the old man and soon Ballistar became bored with the dialogue. He wandered to the window, leaned on the sill and watched the barges being loaded.

At last the conversation died away and Ironhand broke in. 'Best bring your men in for dismissal, old fellow,' he said, 'for we have a hankering to be on one of those barges when it pulls away.'

'Yes, I will,' said Yos-shiel. 'Thank you.'

An hour later the three sat at the stern of a forty-foot barge as the crew poled it steadily up-river. The vessel was fortified by hinged wooden flaps along both rails, which could be raised to offer protection from an assault. Huge rocks had been left at intervals along both sides of the deck, ready to be hurled down on any boat that sought to impede the barge's progress. Armed men sat at the prow, and all of the barge workers carried long knives.

'So we find the temple and steal the Crown?' said Ballistar. 'It would be best to enter it at night.'

Sigarni rose, stretched and walked away down the port side of the vessel. A soldier smiled at her.

'Stay with your friends,' he said. 'Soon it will be so dark you will not be able to see your hand before your face.'

She thanked him and returned to the others, seating herself on a coil of rope. The light faded fast, and soon the barge was engulfed in a darkness so complete that Sigarni felt an edge of panic.

'It's like being dead,' whispered Ballistar. Sigarni felt his hand brush against her arm; she took hold of it and squeezed his fingers.

'No, it isn't,' said Ironhand. 'Death is not dark; it is bright and vile.'

'How can they see to steer?' Ballistar asked.

'Quiet back there,' came a voice. 'We'll see the city within an hour.'

There was little sensation of movement within the all-encompassing blackness and Sigarni found herself thinking back to her days with Fell, when they had hunted together and made love before the fire. He had been able to read her moods so well. There were times when she had wanted nothing more than to curl up beside him, stroking his skin. On such occasions he would hug her and kiss her fondly. On other nights, when the fey mood was upon her she would desire to make love with passion and fire. Always he responded. I was good for you too, Fell, she thought. I knew you, your thoughts and your dreams.

The first kiss had been shared on the slopes of High Druin, on a bright summer's day. They had raced over the four miles from Goring's Rock to the White Stream. Fell was faster and stronger, but his staying power could not match Sigarni's; she had doggedly clung to his trail, always keeping him in sight until the last, long rise. Then, as he faltered, she drew ori her reserves and passed him.

At the White Stream he had sunk back to his haunches and fought for breath. Sigarni brought him water in a hastily made cup of bark.

'You are a wonder, Sigarni,' he said at last, taking her hand and kissing it.

She sat beside him, looping her arm around his neck. 'My poor Fell! Is your pride damaged beyond repair?'

He looked at her quizzically. 'Why would my pride be hurt? I did my best.'

'I liked it when you kissed my hand,' she said, changing the subject.

'Then I shall do it again.'

'I would like it more if you kissed my mouth.'

He smiled then. 'You are very forward for a Highland girl - I shall put it down to Gwalchmai's poor teaching. I don't mind losing a race to a woman like you, but it is not meet for you to do the seducing.'

'Why?'

'Because I sat up through most of the night trying to think of a way to get you to kiss me. It makes a mockery of all my planning.'

Sigarni lay back on the soft grass. 'Not at all. Go ahead. Show me your strategy.'

He chuckled. 'Too late. I think the fox is already in the henhouse.'

'Even so, I would like to hear it.'

Rolling to his elbow he lay beside her, looking down. 'I wanted to tell you that I have never known anyone like you, and that when I am with you I am happier than at any other time. You are the delight in my life, Sigarni. Now and always.'

'You've won me over with your fine words,' she said. 'Now the kiss, if you please.'

Ballistar's voice cut through her thoughts. 'Your hand is very warm,' he whispered.

'I was thinking good thoughts,' she told him, keeping her voice low.

The journey continued, until at last they could see the faint lights of the city ahead. The barge moved on, approaching an arched portcullis gate. The helmsman flashed a signal with his lantern which was answered from above the arch. Then, with a great creaking and groaning, the portcullis rose and the barge passed beneath it.

Lanterns hung from poles all along the quayside and Sigarni heard Ballistar breathe a sigh of relief. 'It was awful,' he said, 'like being blind.'

'It was not awful,' said Sigarni, wistfully.

The barge clanked against the stone quay. Ironhand was the first ashore, followed by Sigarni and Ballistar.

'What now?' asked the warrior.

'We'll find some sheltered place to sleep,' Sigarni told him. 'Tomorrow we'll see the King.'

'For what purpose?' Ballistar asked.

'I shall ask for the Crown to be returned.'

'And he will just give it to you?'

'Of course not, Balli. I shall offer him something in return.'

'It will need to be a very large gift,' Ironhand pointed out.

'It will be,' she promised.