Crystal Gorge
David and Leigh Eddings

Book Three of The Dreamers

Table of Contents

Cover Page

Title Page

Maps

PREFACE

THE RELUCTANT CHIEFTAIN

1

2

3

CASTANO

1

2

3

4

THE VOYAGE TO THE EAST

1

2

3

THE NORTH COUNTRY

1

2

3

4

TONTBAKAN

1

2

3

4

A FAMILY AFFAIR

Zelana followed Eleria back to the

THE MALAVI

1

2

3

THE WAR CHAMBER

1

2

3

THE TEMPLE

Behold! I am Divine Azakan

THE WARRIOR QUEEN

1

2

3

4

THE PESTILENCE

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

THE DEPARTURE OF AZAKAN

1

2

3

4

5

THE FORTRESS

1

2

3

THE RETREAT

1

2

3

4

INFERNO

1

2

3

4

THE RETURN TO THE LAND OF DREAMS

1

2

3

About the Author

By David Eddings

Copyright

About the Publisher

Maps

PREFACE

And now were we confounded, for even as had happened in the land of the sunset, our migration into the land of longer summers had met with disaster. The man-things of that region had proved to be even more cruel than those we had encountered in the land of the sunset, and our dear Vlagh shrieked in agony as we swiftly bore her away from the broad water which grew larger and larger with each passing of that which brings light to her realm.

For behold, the man-things of the land of longer summers brought forth water, even as the man-things of the land of the sunset had brought forth the hot light which had spewed up from the mountains, and the loss of the servants of our beloved Vlagh had been even greater than our loss in the land of the sunset.

And the overmind of which we are all a part shriveled because of this loss, for we were all made less. And great was our grief by reason of this.

Now those of us which seek knowledge are much different from those whose sole task is caring for the mother which spawned us all, for we have gone forth into the lands of the man-things and have seen much that may prove useful. Those which care for mother move only by instinct, while we who seek knowledge have gone beyond instinct, and now we have reached the land of thought.

Much have we discovered in the land of thought, and we faithfully presented this to the mother which spawned us all, and the overmind shared what we told to mother.

At first the overmind which guides us all was much confused by what we had found. Horrified was the overmind to discover from what we told it that the man-things can perform tasks even when they are not under the control of any thought other than their own. More horrid still was the knowledge that those man-things which had defeated us again and again were potential breeders, rather than potential egg-layers such as we are. Truly, the man-things are an abomination which should no longer be permitted to exist, for, as all the world knows, breeders should have no task other than the mating with those which lay the eggs which expand the number of the servants of the she which has spawned them all.

There is yet still another peculiarity among the man-things. They make noises by which they give others of their kind information. Some of those who seek knowledge have duplicated those noises, but they soon discovered that the man-things will often make noises which are not true. And it came to us that if the man-things have no way to know which noises are true and which are not-true, we could make the not-true noises also, and thereby could we conceal truth from the man-things, and this could give us great advantage.

As we have learned, much to the sorrow of the overmind, the man-things have many sticks with teeth with which they can cause hurt – and even death – to the servants of the Vlagh, but these sticks with teeth are not parts of their own bodies, but are separate and may easily be carried away by those of us which serve our dear Vlagh, and the overmind in its wisdom advised us to gather up those sticks with teeth which had been carried by man-things which had died during our struggles with them.

But then it came to the overmind that we still lacked the most powerful of the things which kill us, and that is the thing which flickers and lays clouds close to the ground or far up into the sky. And as the overmind came to understand that the thing which flickers and puts out light and clouds which lie near the ground or rise up into the sky, we all came to know of it as well, and we knew full well that the thing which flickers and puts out light might be the best of the things which kill, for if we could we have that thing which kills, we could kill the man-things from far off, and thus it would be that the sticks with teeth of the man-things could not reach us.

But though we sought far and wide, we found none of that which flickers and puts out light, and so we were confounded.

But then it came to the overmind that we should search not for the flickers or the light, but rather for the clouds which lie close to the ground or rise up into the sky, for these clouds are a sure sign that the thing which flickers and puts out light must lie at the source of those clouds.

And many were the clouds we sought rising from the nesting places of the man things, but we dared not to enter those nesting places, for the man-things which live in those nesting places have many of the sticks with teeth and should they see us near their nesting places, they will surely take up their sticks with teeth and kill us one and all.

But then it came to those of us which had sought knowledge of the man-things in the land of longer summers that the man-things had often used a certain kind of low tree to drive us away from their things-to-eat, for the low-to-the ground clouds which come from that particular low tree make it hard for us to breathe, and over the passage of many periods of light and darkness, many of our kind have died when they could no longer breathe.

And so it was that many of the seekers of knowledge circled around the new body of water which had brought death to many of the servants of our Vlagh to seek out a low-tree which was still putting forth the clouds which make it difficult to breathe. And after much searching, they saw a thin, dark cloud rising from a single low-tree. Then they carefully burrowed through the ground around that low-tree to loosen the limbs it had put down into the ground to hold it in place, and when the low-tree could no longer cling to the ground, they brought it back from the land of longer summers. And now we had that which flickers and puts out light – but only one of them.

Then it came to the overmind that we should have many of the flickers which put out light. And so we closely examined that single low-tree and returned once more to the land of longer summers to gather more of those low-trees, and we carried them back to the place where our single low-tree was flickering and putting out light and a thick cloud as dark as that part of the day when the light in the sky has gone away. And then we laid many of the low-trees we had found upon the single low-tree that flickered and put out light, and behold! Where we had before had only one, we now had many.

And then there came a time of confusion for the overmind. The land of the sunset and the land of longer summers were now beyond our reach by reason of the red liquid spouting from the mountains in the land of the sunset and the water rushing down the slope in the land of longer summers. There still remained two lands where we might go – the land of the sunrise and the land of shorter summers. Now the land of the sunrise was much closer for us, but it was also closer for the man-things that had killed so many of the servants of our dear Vlagh. The land of shorter summers was far away from where we were now, but it would also be far away for the man-things.

Many of the seekers of knowledge said ‘sunrise!’ and many others said ‘shorter summers!’ And the overmind could not decide between them.

And then it was that the seekers of knowledge took up the sticks with teeth for the first time, and the seekers who said ‘sunrise’ killed those who said ‘shorter summers’ while the ones who said ‘shorter summers’ killed those who said ‘sunrise’. And so it was that the servants of the Vlagh grew even fewer, and our dear Vlagh cried out in agony as her children killed each other, for this had never happened before.

We will never know what it was that moved our dear Vlagh to make the decision, but she pointed in the direction of the land of shorter summers and said, ‘Go there!’

And then the killing stopped and we took up our cause-hurt-things and we all turned and went on toward the land of shorter summers, carrying our many low-trees that flickered and put forth light and left many dark clouds lying behind us as we went.

THE RELUCTANT CHIEFTAIN

1

It was summer in the lands of the west, and the young boy with red hair woke up even before the sun had risen above the mountains to the east of the village of Lattash and decided that it might be a good day to go fishing in the small river that flowed down from the mountains. There were quite a few things that he was supposed to do that day, but the river seemed to be calling him, and it wouldn’t be polite at all to ignore her – particularly when the fish were jumping.

He quietly dressed himself in his soft deerskin clothes, took up his fishing-line, and went out of his parents’ lodge to greet the new summer day. Summer was the finest time of the year for the boy, for there was food in plenty and no snow piled high on the lodges and no bitterly cold wind sweeping in from the bay.

He climbed up over the berm that lay between the village and the river and then went on upstream for quite a ways. The fishing was usually better above the village anyway, and he was sure that it wouldn’t be a very good idea to be right out in plain sight when his father came looking for him to remind him that he was neglecting his chores.

The fish were biting enthusiastically that morning, and the boy had caught several dozen of them even before the sun rose up above the mountains.

It was about midmorning when his tall uncle, the eldest son of the tribal chief, came up along the graveled riverbank. Like all the members of the tribe, his uncle wore clothes made of golden deerskin, and his soft shoes made little sound as he joined his young nephew. ‘Your father wants to see you, boy,’ he said in his quiet voice. ‘You did know that he has quite a few things he wants you to do today, didn’t you?’

‘I woke up sort of early this morning, uncle,’ the boy explained. ‘I didn’t think it would be polite to wake anybody, so I came on up here to see if I could catch enough fish for supper this evening.’

‘Are the fish biting at all?’

‘They seem to be very hungry today, uncle,’ the boy replied, pointing toward the many fish he’d laid in the grass near the riverbank.

His uncle seemed quite surprised by the boy’s morning catch. ‘You’ve caught that many already?’ he asked.

‘They’re biting like crazy this morning, uncle. I have to go hide behind a tree when I want to bait my bone hook to keep them from jumping up out of the water to grab the bait right out of my fingers.’

‘Well, now,’ his uncle said enthusiastically. ‘Why don’t you keep fishing, boy? I’ll go tell your father that you’re too busy for chores right now. A day when the fish are biting like this only comes along once or twice a year, so I think maybe our chief might want all the men of the tribe to put everything else aside and join you here on the riverbank.’ He paused and squinted at his nephew. ‘Just exactly what was it that made you decide to come here and try fishing this morning.’

‘I’m not really sure, uncle. It just sort of seemed to me that the river was calling me.’

‘Any time she calls you, go see what she wants, boy. I think that maybe she loves you, so don’t ever disappoint her.’

‘I wouldn’t dream of it, uncle,’ the boy replied, pulling in yet another fish.

And so it was that all of the men of the tribe came down to the river and joined the red-haired boy. The fishing that day was the best many of them had ever seen, and they thanked the boy again and again.

The sun was very low over the western horizon as the boy carried the many fish he’d caught that day up over the berm to the lodges of Lattash, and all of the women of the tribe came out to admire the boy’s catch, and even Planter, who seldom smiled, was grinning broadly when he delivered his catch to her.

And then the boy went on down to the beach to watch the glorious sunset, and the light from the setting sun seemed almost to lay a gleaming path across the water, a path that seemed somehow to invite the boy to walk on out across the bay to the narrow channel that opened out onto the face of Mother Sea.

‘Are you still sleeping, Red-Beard?’ Longbow asked.

‘Not any more,’ Red-Beard told his friend sourly. He sat up and looked around his room in the House of Veltan. It was a nice enough room, Red-Beard conceded, but stone walls were not nearly as nice as the lodges of Lattash had been. ‘I was dreaming about the old days back in the village of Lattash, and I’d just caught enough fish to feed the whole tribe. Everybody seemed to be very happy about that. Then I went on down to the beach to watch the sunset, and I was about to stroll on across the bay to say hello to Mother Sea, but then you had to come along and wake me up.’

‘Did you want to go back to sleep?’ Longbow asked him.

‘I guess not,’ Red-Beard replied. ‘If I happened to doze off now, the fish would probably start biting my toes instead of the bait I’d been using. Have you ever noticed that, Longbow? If you’re having a nice dream and you wake up before it’s finished, your next dream will be just awful. Is there something going on that I should know about?’

‘There’s a little family squabble in Veltan’s map-room is about all. Aracia and Dahlaine have been screaming at each other for about an hour now.’

‘Maybe I will go back to sleep then,’ Red-Beard said. ‘You don’t need to tell anybody I said this, but the older gods seem to be slipping more and more every day.’

‘You’ve noticed,’ Longbow said dryly.

‘Do you have to do that all the time?’ Red-Beard demanded, throwing off his blanket and struggling to his feet.

‘Do what?’

‘Try to turn everything into a joke.’

‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to poach in your territory. Shall we go?’

‘It’s fairly certain that the creatures of the Wasteland will come east now, Dahlaine,’ Aracia was saying as Red-Beard and Longbow entered Veltan’s map-room. ‘After Yaltar’s volcano destroyed the ones in Zelana’s Domain, they turned south to attack the nearest part of the Land of Dhrall, and east is closer to south than north. They’ll attack me next. That should be obvious.’

‘You’re overlooking something, Aracia,’ Dahlaine disagreed. ‘The servants of the Vlagh are cramming thousands – or even millions – of years of development into very short periods of time. If we assume that they’re still thinking at the most primitive level, I think we’ll start getting some very nasty surprises. I’m almost positive that their “overmind” has come to realize that the attack here in the south turned into a disaster, and that would make “closer” very unattractive. I’m quite certain that their next attack will be as far from here as possible.’

‘Aren’t we wandering just a bit?’ Zelana suggested. ‘We won’t know which way the bugs will move until one of the Dreamers gives us that information. I’d say let’s wait. In the light of what happened in my Domain and Veltan’s, we just don’t have enough information to lock anything in stone yet.’

‘Zelana’s right, you know,’ Veltan agreed. ‘We can’t be sure of anything until one of the children has one of “those” dreams.’

‘May I make a suggestion?’ the silver-haired Trogite Narasan asked.

‘I’ll listen to anything right now,’ Dahlaine replied.

‘I’m unfamiliar with the lands of the north and the east, but wouldn’t it make sense to alert the local population to the possibility of an incipient invasion? If the people of both regions know that there’s a distinct possibility that the bug-men will attack, they’ll be able to make some preparations.’

‘That makes sense, Aracia,’ Dahlaine conceded. ‘If what happened here and off to the west are any indication of what’s likely to happen in your Domain or mine, the local population will probably play a large part in giving us another victory.’

Aracia glared at her older brother, but she didn’t respond.

Longbow tapped Red-Beard’s shoulder. ‘Why don’t we go get a breath of fresh air,’ he quietly suggested.

‘It is just a bit stuffy in here,’ Red-Beard agreed. ‘Lead on, friend Longbow.’

They went on out of the map-room and then some distance along the dimly lighted hallway.

‘Is it just my imagination or is Zelana’s older sister behaving a bit childishly?’ Longbow asked.

‘I don’t really know her all that well,’ Red-Beard said, ‘and I think I’d like to keep it that way. It seems to me that she’s got an attitude problem.’

‘Or maybe even something worse. Remember what happened back in the ravine? Suddenly, for no reason at all, Zelana jumped up, grabbed Eleria, and flew on back to her grotto on the Isle of Thurn.’

‘Oh, yes,’ Red-Beard said. ‘Sorgan almost had a fit when she ran off like that without giving him all that gold she’d promised him. If I remember right, it finally took a bit of bullying by Eleria to bring her back to her senses.’

‘I don’t know very much about Aracia,’ Longbow admitted, ‘but I’m starting to catch a strong odor of irrationality in her vicinity. Her mind doesn’t seem to work any more.’

‘I wouldn’t be too sure about that, Longbow,’ Red-Beard disagreed. ‘It might just be working very well. From what I’ve heard, anybody in her Domain who doesn’t want to do honest work joins the priesthood and spends all his time adoring her.’

‘That’s what I’ve heard too.’

‘Soldiering is one kind of honest work, isn’t it?’

‘Not as hard as farming is, maybe, but it’s still harder than adoring somebody.’

‘If that’s the way things are in her Domain, doesn’t that sort of suggest that she doesn’t have anything at all like an army over there? Wouldn’t that explain why she wants all the soldiers Zelana and Veltan hired to come on over to her territory to protect her if the bug-people decide to come her way?’

‘Very good, Red-Beard,’ Longbow said. ‘Maybe she’s not quite as irrational as it might seem. If her Domain is totally undefended, she’ll need just about everybody with a sword or a bow to come there to protect her. It’s very selfish, of course, but I don’t think that would bother her. She seems to believe that she’s the most important thing in the whole world, so from her way of looking at things, we’re all obliged to rush to her defense.’

‘There’s not much that we can do about it right now, friend Longbow – except possibly to suggest to Zelana that she’d better keep a close eye on her big sister.’

‘I’m sure that Zelana already knows about her sister’s peculiarities, but we might want to caution Sorgan and Narasan about this.’

‘You’re probably right. Should we go on back and listen to the screaming? or would you rather go fishing?’

The squabbling of Dahlaine and Aracia continued for another half hour or so, and then Ara, Omago’s beautiful wife, joined them on the balcony of the map-room. ‘Supper’s ready,’ she announced.

‘That’s just about the best news I’ve heard all day,’ Sorgan Hook-Beak declared. ‘Let’s go eat before everything gets cold.’

They all trooped on down the hallway to Veltan’s impromptu dining-room. That was one of the characteristics of the elder gods that Red-Beard had never fully understood. There was a certain practicality involved in their lack of a need for sleep. If some kind of emergency came up, a sleeping god might not be able to deal with it, but Red-Beard couldn’t for the life of him see why they didn’t eat. They didn’t need nourishment, of course, but there was more to eating food than just satisfying the grumbling in the belly. Dinners in particular were generally something along the lines of a social event that brought people closer together and smoothed over various disagreements. Red-Beard was almost positive that the elaborate dining-room in Veltan’s house hadn’t even been there before the outlanders had arrived, and he was fairly sure that the dining-room Veltan had added to his house had originally been Ara’s idea. Omago’s wife was quite probably the best cook in the entire world, but she was wise enough to know that getting people together and establishing friendships was even more important than eating. There were several peculiarities about Ara that Red-Beard didn’t fully understand – yet.

He was still working on it, though.

Oddly, Veltan and Zelana were accompanying them to the dining-room. Since they didn’t need – or want – food, they obviously had something else on their minds.

The conversation at the dinner table was fairly general, but after they’d all eaten – more than they really needed, of course – Zelana and Veltan took Sorgan and Commander Narasan aside and spoke with them at some length.

Red-Beard nudged his friend Longbow after supper. ‘I could be wrong about this, I suppose, but I think Zelana and Veltan might have come up with a way to make peace in their family, and it’s probably going to involve Sorgan and Narasan.’

‘What a peculiar sort of idea,’ Longbow murmured.

‘You saw it too, didn’t you?’

‘It was just a bit obvious, friend Red-Beard. I think it might disappoint Holy Aracia a little, though.’

‘What a shame,’ Red-Beard said with a broad grin.

‘That’s a nasty sort of thing to say.’

‘So beat me.’

When they returned to the map-room, Sorgan Hook-Beak cleared his throat as a sort of indication that he was about to make a speech. ‘Narasan and I talked this over, and I think we might have come up with a way to deal with the problem that’s been nagging at us here lately,’ he announced. ‘Since we can’t be certain sure exactly where the bug-people will strike next, we’ll have to cover both possibilities. Since Lord Dahlaine’s territory is farther away than his sister’s is, Narasan and I pretty much agreed that I should cover that part of the Land of Dhrall – not because my men are better warriors, but because our ships move faster than Narasan’s can. Of course, that’s why we built them that way. Chasing down Trogite ships and robbing them is the main business in the Land of Maag, but we can talk about that some other time. Since my people will cover the north, Narasan’s will cover the east.’ He gestured down toward Veltan’s “lumpy map”. ‘If that map’s anywhere at all close to being accurate, it’ll only take Narasan’s fleet a few days to reach Lady Aracia’s territory, and he can protect that region. That means that we’ll have people in place to hold the bug-people back in either the east or the north, and our employers can zip from here to there in no time at all. If the attack strikes the east, I’ll sail on down around the south end and join up with Narasan in just a couple of weeks. But, if the bug-people come north, my people will be able to hold them back until Narasan arrives to help me. When we add the horse soldiers in the north and the women warriors in the east, we’ll have enough people to bring any bug invasion to a stop. Then, when the rest of our friends arrive, we’ll be able to stomp all over the invaders and win the third war here in the Land of Dhrall.’

‘It’ll be something on the order of the way we handled things before the war in Lady Zelana’s Domain,’ Narasan added. ‘There’ll be enough of our people in either region to hold off the invasion until our friends can join us. Then we’ll move directly on to stomp-stomp. ’

‘What a clever way to put it, Narasan,’ Sorgan observed.

‘I’ve always had this way with words,’ Narasan replied modestly.

‘I don’t want to intrude here,’ the scar-faced Ekial said, ‘but how are we going to get my people – and their horses – up to Lord Dahlaine’s territory? Horses can run fast, but probably not quite fast enough to gallop across the top of the sea.’

‘I think I know how we can do that,’ Narasan said. ‘Gunda’s got that little fishing yawl that almost knows how to fly. He can take you on down to Castano and hire ships. Then the two of you can sail on over to Malavi and pick up your men and horses. Then you’ll go north to Lord Dahlaine’s territory.’

‘I think that maybe I should go with them, Commander,’ Veltan added. ‘When you hire Trogite ships, you need gold, and I know of a few ways to keep that much gold from sinking Gunda’s yawl.’

‘I think we’ve pretty much solved all the problems now,’ Narasan said, looking around at the others. ‘When do you think we should start?’

‘Have you got anything on the fire for tomorrow?’ Sorgan asked him.

‘Not that I can think of,’ Narasan replied.

‘Tomorrow it is, then,’ Sorgan announced.

Red-Beard had been watching Zelana’s sister rather closely as Sorgan and Narasan smoothly cut the ground out from under her. It was quite clear that she wanted to protest, but the two clever outlanders hadn’t left her much to complain about. She obviously still wanted all of the outlanders to go east to protect her Domain, but Sorgan and Narasan – at Zelana’s and Veltan’s suggestion, evidently – had dismissed any protest she could raise.

‘I don’t know if you’ve been watching, friend Red-Beard,’ Longbow said quietly, ‘but doesn’t it seem to you that the warrior queen called Trenicia is staying very close to Commander Narasan, and she appears to be very impressed by him.’

‘Do you think it’s possible that she’s having those kind of thoughts about dear old Narasan?’ Red-Beard asked.

‘I couldn’t say for sure,’ Longbow replied, ‘but that would be a very interesting sort of thing to crop up along about now, wouldn’t you say?’

‘Not as long as my head was on straight, I wouldn’t.’

2

At first light the following morning, the farmers of Veltan’s Domain began carrying large amounts of food down to the beach to stock the ships of the two fleets. There was a steely quality about that early morning light that always made Red-Beard’s instincts seem more intense. ‘This might be a good day for hunting,’ he said to Longbow as they watched the farmers come down the hill.

‘I don’t think Veltan would like it much if you started shooting arrows at his farmers,’ Longbow replied.

‘Funny, Longbow, very funny,’ Red-Beard said. ‘There’s something about this first light before the sun comes up that always makes me feel that this might be one of those perfect days – you know, a day when nothing can go wrong.’

Longbow looked up at the still colorless sky. ‘You might be right, friend Red-Beard,’ he agreed, ‘and if you’re very lucky, things won’t start to fall apart until mid-morning.’ He looked out at the ships of the Trogites and Maags. ‘It’s likely to take them most of the morning to load all that food on their ships,’ he said. ‘Let’s go talk with Zelana and find out if there’s something she wants us to do before we leave Veltan’s territory.’

Zelana and her two brothers were watching the farmers from a hill-top some distance back from the beach when Red-Beard and Longbow joined them.

‘I’m not trying to tell you what to do, baby brother,’ Zelana told Veltan, ‘but I think you might want to consider a bit of “tampering” to get Gunda and Ekial down to Castano as quickly as possible. We won’t know for sure exactly where the creatures of the Wasteland will mount their next attack until one of the children starts dreaming. It’s only a short distance from here to Aracia’s Domain, so Narasan should arrive there in just a few days, and it’s just a short voyage from Aracia’s temple to the Isle of Akalla where Trenicia’s warriors live. It’s much farther from here to Dahlaine’s Domain. Sorgan’s ships are fast enough to reach that part of the Land of Dhrall in plenty of time, but you’ll be spending quite a few days in Castano hiring Trogite ships and more days sailing on down to the land of the Malavi. Then you’ll have the long voyage from there to Dahlaine’s country on those wallowing Trogite ships.’

‘I’m very good at tampering, dear sister,’ Veltan told her with a faint smile. ‘Mother Sea is lovely at this time of the year, and I’m sure that the Malavi will enjoy their voyage enormously, but sight-seeing isn’t really all that important right now, so we’ll hit a few high spots and hustle right along. It’s going to seem to Ekial’s Malavi that big brother’s Domain isn’t really all that far north when they get there, but that’s not particularly important.’ Then he turned to look at his older brother. ‘Will the local people in your Domain be at all useful if the Creatures of the Wasteland decide to go north?’

‘The natives of the Tonthakan region are fairly good archers,’ Dahlaine replied. ‘Their territory’s very much like sister Zelana’s Domain, so the Tonthakans are primarily hunters. The central region, Matakan, is open grassland and the game-animals there are bison. They’re quite a bit larger than the deer in the forest, and their fur’sa lot thicker. Arrows wouldn’t be too effective against animals like that, so the Matans use spears rather than bows and arrows.’

‘Wouldn’t that limit the effective range?’ Longbow asked.

‘Bison aren’t as timid as deer are,’ Dahlaine explained. ‘They don’t panic the way deer do. The Matans use what they call “spear-throwers” to increase the range.’

‘I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a “spear-thrower”,’ Red-Beard admitted. ‘How does it work?’

‘Basically, it’s an extension of the hunter’s arm. It’s a stick with a cup on the end. The hunter sets the butt-end of the spear in that cup, and then he whips the stick forward. The added length increases the leverage, and it nearly doubles the range of the spear. The stone spearhead’s quite a bit heavier than your arrowheads are, so it cuts through the fur and the thick skin of the bison. It sounds just a bit crude and primitive, but it does keep the Matans eating regularly. You’ll probably have an opportunity to see how well it works when we get there.’

‘Isn’t there a third region up there as well?’ Veltan asked.

Dahlaine made a sour face. ‘I should have done something about Atazakan quite some time ago, but I’ve been just a bit busy here lately. The Atazaks have an elevated opinion of themselves – which probably derives from what’s referred to in that region as “the royal family”. I’ve never had occasion to study the notion of “hereditary insanity”, but the term seems to fit in the case of Atazakan. The current chief, leader, king – whatever – is totally crazy. He’s absolutely convinced that he’s a god, and that I’m just a usurper, and that I’m trying to steal what’s rightfully his.’

‘Oh?’ Zelana said. ‘What is this precious thing you’ve filched, Dahlaine?’

‘The world, of course – or possibly the entire universe.’

‘Why don’t the citizens just remove him – with knife or axe?’ Red-Beard asked.

‘Because he has thousands of guards,’ Dahlaine replied. ‘I’d say that every third man in Palandor is a member of what Holy Emperor Azakan calls “the Guardians of Divinity” – which gives those “guardians” an easy life. About all they have to do is stand around scowling threateningly at sunrise and sunset.’

‘What’s the weather like up there?’ Red-Beard asked.

‘Autumn isn’t too bad,’ Dahlaine replied. ‘There’s a warm stream of water out in Mother Sea that modifies the autumn weather, but it sort of veers off at the end of autumn, and things get very cold. Blizzards go on for weeks at a time, and the spring thaw comes much later there than in the rest of the Land of Dhrall. Summers are fairly nice, but every now and then we get spells of bad weather. Huge storms build up in the sea to the east of my Domain, and they come screaming in to hit the coast of Atazakan.’ He smiled faintly. ‘Holy – or crazy – Azakan always tries to order those storms to go away, but they never seem to listen for some reason.’

‘Storms don’t ever seem to listen, big brother,’ Zelana said. ‘When Mother Sea gets grouchy, it’s time to take cover.’

‘Fortunately we should be near the end of what the people of Matakan call “the whirlwind season”.’

‘My people call those storms “cyclones”,’ Veltan noted, ‘probably because of the way they spin around.’

‘We don’t see those very often in my part of the Land of Dhrall,’ Zelana said.

‘You’re lucky then,’ Dahlaine replied. ‘Those spinning windstorms tend to rip things all to pieces. They’re fairly common in Matakan, because that region doesn’t have very many mountainous ridges to disrupt them. The Matans usually take shelter underground.’

‘Caves?’ Longbow asked.

‘Not exactly. The Matans dig deep cellars with thick roofs, and when they see a whirlwind coming, they all go underground to sit it out.’

Rabbit came up from the beach at that point. ‘The Cap’n told me to tell you that the Seagull’s ready to go whenever you say it’s all right,’ the clever little iron-smith advised.

‘Tell him that we’ll be along in just a few minutes,’ Dahlaine said. Then he looked at his brother and sister. ‘We could probably go on ahead,’ he told them, ‘but it might be better if we stayed with the Maags. They’ll want directions, and we can give them information they’ll probably need before long while we’re sailing on up to my Domain. It’s going to take quite a while to get there – even on those fast Maag longships – so we might as well use that time to our advantage.’

‘Could you have a word with Narasan?’ Longbow asked Veltan as they walked on down to the beach. ‘I think we might want to have Keselo with us in the north country. He spent a great deal of his time studying when he was younger, and he carries a lot of information in his head that we might need in Dahlaine’s Domain.’ Longbow smiled slightly. ‘Rabbit and I came to realize that if we named something, Keselo had probably studied it.’

‘He is quite learned,’ Veltan agreed. ‘I’ll have a talk with Narasan before I join Gunda and Ekial in that little yawl. I’m fairly sure that Narasan will agree. I’m sure you noticed that Narasan’s going off to the east just to mollify sister Aracia’s sense of having been offended because everybody didn’t rush over to her Domain to defend her.’

‘I don’t think that’s entirely true, Veltan,’ Longbow disagreed. ‘Red-Beard and I were talking outside your map-room when Aracia and Dahlaine were arguing, and we sort of agreed that your older sister’s problem wasn’t so much offense as it was fear. If the descriptions we’ve heard of her part of the Land of Dhrall are anywhere close to being accurate, she doesn’t have anything that even remotely resembles an army. She has farmers, merchants, and priests, but no soldiers. If the creatures of the Wasteland attack her Domain, there’s nobody there to resist. That’s why she wanted both the Maags and the Trogites to go east. She’s more than a little self-centered, of course, but it was fear that was driving her.’

‘Now that’s something we hadn’t even considered,’ Veltan admitted. ‘It does sort of fit, though. We all get a bit strange and confused at the end of one of our cycles, and the rest of the family assumed that she was being driven by pride, and that being adored by all those priests had dislocated her mind. We never even considered the possibility of fear. You might want to pass this on to Dahlaine and Zelana and see what they think. It could explain Aracia’s odd behavior here lately.’

Things were a bit crowded on board the Seagull as they sailed south from the house of Veltan in the late summer. Sorgan obviously wasn’t too pleased when Zelana and Dahlaine appropriated his cabin, but it did make sense, since they had the children, Eleria, Ashad, and Yaltar with them. Maag sailors frequently spoke to each other in colorful terms, and it was probably best to keep the children in a place where they couldn’t hear certain words.

Also, for some reason that Red-Beard couldn’t really see, Dahlaine had insisted that Omago and his beautiful wife Ara should join their party. There was something about Ara that Red-Beard couldn’t quite understand. She was beautiful, of course, but very peculiar things seemed to happen quite frequently when she was around. It could just be coincidence, of course, but Red-Beard was more than a little dubious about that.

For right now, however, Red-Beard had something a bit more serious to worry about. Once the Seagull and the rest of the Maag fleet were past the south coast of Veltan’s Domain, they’d be sailing north along the coast of Zelana’s part of the Land of Dhrall, and there was a distinct possibility that they’d pull into the bay of Lattash for any one of a dozen or so reasons.

It took him a while to work up enough nerve to speak with Zelana about the matter.

‘Are you busy?’ he asked her one bright, sunny morning as the Seagull raced down along the east coast and Zelana was standing alone near the bow.

‘Are we having some sort of problem?’ she asked him.

‘Well, I hope not,’ he replied. ‘Do you think you could see your way clear to persuade Sorgan Hook-Beak to avoid the bay of Lattash?’

‘Is there something wrong with Lattash, Red-Beard?’

‘New Lattash,’ he corrected her. ‘Old Lattash was just fine, but it’s not there any more. It’s New Lattash that’s got me worried.’

‘And why’s that, dear boy?’

‘Boy?’ Red-Beard found the term to be a bit offensive.

‘It’s just a relative term,’ she said, smiling. ‘What’s troubling you so much, Red-Beard?’

‘I’d really be much happier if word that I’m here on the Seagull didn’t leak out anywhere in the vicinity of the new village.’

‘It’s your home, isn’t it?’

‘Well, it used to be. After my uncle White-Braid came apart when Old Lattash was buried by that lava flow, the villagers decided that I should be the chief.’

‘It seems that I’d heard about that. Did I ever congratulate you?’

‘No, and I think I’d like to keep it that way. To be honest about it, I didn’t want to be the chief, and I still don’t. If I’m lucky, these wars in the other parts of the Land of Dhrall will go on and on for years. I’ve never wanted to be the chief of the tribe, and I still don’t.’

Zelana laughed. ‘You and my sister make a very odd pair, Red-Beard. She wants all that authority and adoration, but you keep running away from it.’

‘How can she stand all that foolishness?’

‘It makes her feel important, Red-Beard, and being important takes some of the sting out of the fact that our older brother out-ranks her in this particular cycle.’ She paused, looking thoughtfully at Red-Beard. ‘You do know about our cycles, don’t you, Red-Beard?’ she asked.

‘Sort of. As I understand it, you and your family stay awake for a thousand years, and then you hand your task off to some younger relatives and take a long nap. Is that anywhere close to what happens?’

‘Fairly close – except that your number isn’t quite right. Our cycles are twenty-five times longer than one thousand.’

Red-Beard blinked. ‘You’ve been awake for that long?’ he asked her in a voice filled with wonder.

‘Not quite yet, but it’s getting closer to nap-time. When our current cycle began, people – your species – were at a very primitive level. They hadn’t even discovered fire yet, and their most sophisticated weapon was the club. In many ways, this is the most important period in the history of the world. The man-things – your species – spend most of their time changing things. That makes this particular cycle very significant – and very dangerous. There are some things that should not be changed – and that brings us to the Vlagh. Do you know anything about bees?’

Red-Beard shrugged. ‘They make honey, and they sting anybody who tries to steal it. Honey tastes good – but not so good that I’d want to get stung a thousand times just to gather it up.’

‘Wise decision, Red-Beard. Bees – and a number of other varieties of insects – have developed very complex societies that are designed to expand their territories and their food supply. That’s what these wars here in the Land of Dhrall are all about. Unfortunately, the Vlagh is an imitator. When one of the creatures of the Wasteland sees a characteristic that seems useful, the Vlagh starts experimenting, and its next hatch will have a variation of that characteristic.’

‘So we end up with bug-men who know how to talk.’

‘Not exactly bug-men, Red-Beard. Bug-women would come closer to what’s really happening. There aren’t really very many males among the creatures of the Wasteland. They’re almost all females, but the Vlagh herself is the only one that lays eggs – thousands and thousands of eggs at a time.’

‘I don’t think baby bug-people would be very dangerous,’ Red-Beard scoffed.

‘Maybe not, but they grow very fast.’

‘How fast?’

‘They’re adults within a week. Of course, they only live for about six weeks, but a new generation is already in the works. The outlanders we’ve hired to help us don’t fully understand this, but it’s not really necessary for them to understand. It’s probably better that they don’t. If they knew that the Vlagh can replace all the ones our friends kill in about two weeks, there isn’t enough gold in the whole world to have persuaded them to come here and help us.’ ‘Why are you telling me all this, Zelana?’ Red-Beard asked her.

She shrugged. ‘A few people need to know what’s really happening, Red-Beard, and you just happened to be in the right place at the right time. I’ll have a word with Sorgan about your problem, and if it’s really necessary for the Seagull to go on into the bay of Lattash, we’ll find someplace to hide you so that the people of your tribe won’t be able to find you.’

‘That definitely takes a load off my mind.’ Red-Beard hesitated. ‘You do understand why I don’t want any part of being the chief of the tribe, don’t you?’ he asked her.

‘It has something to do with freedom, doesn’t it?’

‘Exactly.’ He frowned slightly. ‘You went right straight to the point, Zelana. How did you pick it up so fast?’

‘I’ve already been there, Red-Beard. That’s why I went off to the Isle of Thurn a long time ago. If you think that being “chief” would be unbearably tedious, take a long, hard look at being “god”. Just like you, I didn’t want any part of that, so I ran away. I spent thousands of years in my pink grotto composing music, writing poetry, and playing with my pink dolphins. Then my big brother brought Eleria to me, and my whole world changed.’

‘You love her, though, don’t you?’

Zelana sighed. ‘More than anything in the whole world. That’s what Dahlaine had in mind when he foisted the Dreamers on us in the first place. In a certain sense, it was very cruel, but it was necessary.’

‘Well, I’m not really all that necessary where the tribe’s concerned. They can find somebody else to sit around being important.’ Then a thought came to Red-Beard, and he suddenly burst out laughing.

‘What’s so funny?’

‘I know who’d make the best chief the tribe’s ever had,’ he replied. ‘The tribe might not like it very much – at least the men wouldn’t – but Planter really should be the chief.’

Zelana smiled. ‘She already is, Red-Beard. She doesn’t need the title. The tribe does what she wants done, and that’s what really counts, wouldn’t you say?’

‘Not out loud, I wouldn’t,’ Red-Beard replied.

The wind was coming out of the east when Sorgan Hook-Beak’s fleet of longships rounded the first peninsula jutting out from the south coast of Veltan’s Domain, and when that wind caught the sails, they billowed out with a booming sound. It seemed to Red-Beard that the longships almost flew toward the west. He had a few suspicions about that. Zelana and her family frequently spoke of ‘tampering,’ and a wind coming from the east was very unusual. West winds and south winds were fairly common at this time of the year, but east and north? Not too likely.

The Seagull rounded the third and last peninsula on the south coast of Veltan’s Domain a few days later, and then the Maag fleet turned north. The weather seemed to have a faint smell of early autumn now, and Red-Beard began to feel that seasonal urge to go hunting. Autumn had always been the time to lay in a good supply of food to get the tribe through the coming winter.

He was standing near the slender bow of the Seagull with Zelana’s older brother about midmorning one day when Sorgan Hook-Beak came forward to join them. ‘I got to thinking last night that it might be a good idea for me and my men to know a bit about the people of your Domain, Lord Dahlaine,’ he said. ‘My cousin Skell discovered that it’s not a good idea to turn Maags loose on the natives of this part of the world when they haven’t got the faintest idea of what the local customs are.’

‘You could be right about that, Captain,’ Dahlaine agreed. ‘I suppose a little conference in your cabin might be in order along about now. There are few peculiarities in my Domain that you should all know about.’

Sorgan’s cabin at the stern of the Seagull wasn’t really very large, so things were just a bit crowded when they gathered there about a quarter of an hour later.

‘Captain Hook-Beak spoke with me a little while ago, and he wanted to know a few things about the people of my Domain,’ Zelana’s big brother told them. ‘It’s not a bad idea, really. I’ll give you a sort of general idea about my people and the general layout of the country up there, and then I’ll answer any questions you might have.’

‘He sounds a lot like a chief of one of our tribes, doesn’t he, Longbow?’ Red-Beard said quietly to his friend.

‘Some things are always the same, friend Red-Beard,’ Longbow replied. ‘A chief is a chief, no matter where he lives.’

‘When we get to the north of sister Zelana’s Domain, we’ll go ashore in the Tonthakan nation,’ Dahlaine began.

‘Nation?’ Zelana asked curiously.

‘It’s an idea I came up with quite some time ago, dear sister,’ Dahlaine replied. ‘It was the best way I could think of to put an end to those silly wars between the various tribes. There are three significantly different cultures in my domain, so I set up three “nations” – Tonthakan, Matakan, and Atazakan – and the various tribes in those nations settle their differences with conferences instead of wars.’

‘What an unnatural sort of thing,’ Red-Beard said in mock disapproval.

‘Be nice,’ Zelana chided him.

‘Sorry,’ he replied, although he didn’t really mean it.

‘The nation of Tonthakan lies along the western coast of my Domain,’ Dahlaine continued, ‘and it’s very similar in terrain – and culture – to sister Zelana’s Domain. The mountains are steep and rugged, the forests are dense and mostly evergreens, and there are several varieties of deer roaming through those forests. The Tonthakans are primarily hunters, and they’re quite good with their bows. I’m sure that Longbow and Red-Beard will feel pretty much at home in that region – except that the winters are longer and colder than they are farther to the south. It won’t be quite as noticeable in the autumn, but the days are longer in the summer up there and shorter in the winter.’ He glanced at Keselo. ‘I’m sure our learned young friend from the Trogite Empire can explain that for us.’

‘It has to do with the tilt of our world, Lord Dahlaine,’ Keselo replied. ‘Our world isn’t exactly plumb and square in relation to the sun, and that’s what accounts for the seasons. She spins, and that’s what gives us days and nights, and she travels around the sun in what scholars call “an orbit”. If she didn’t spin, half the world would live in perpetual daylight, and the other half would live in the dark, but it’s that slight lopsidedness that gives us the seasons.’

‘I’ve always known that there was something wrong with this world,’ Rabbit said with no hint of a smile.

‘I wouldn’t really call it “wrong”, Rabbit,’ Keselo told him. ‘If it weren’t for the changing of the seasons, I don’t think anything alive could be here. Perpetual summer might sound nice, but I don’t think it really would be.’

‘Pushing on, then,’ Dahlaine said. ‘The central region of my Domain is a large area of meadowland that’s primarily grassland with very few trees.’

‘That turned out to be very useful last spring,’ Longbow said.

‘I don’t think I quite follow you there, Longbow,’ Dahlaine said with a slightly puzzled look.

‘It has to do with certain customs in Zelana’s Domain,’ Longbow replied. ‘There are certain tasks that we call “men’s work” and others called “women’s work”. Men are supposed to hunt and fight wars, and women are supposed to plant vegetables and cook supper. It might sound sort of fair, but it seems to give the men of any tribe a lot of spare time to sit around talking about hunting and fighting. When the fire-mountains won the first war for us, Red-Beard’s village, Lattash, was buried under melted rock, so the people had to move to a place on down the bay from the old one. There was open land that should have given the women plenty of room for planting – except that it was covered with thick sod. Cutting away the sod would normally be “women’s work”, but Old-Bear, the chief of my tribe, told us that he had once visited that grassland you just described, and that while he was there, he saw the lodges made of sod rather than tree-limbs. Building lodges is “men’s work”, so after Red-Beard’s tribe had settled in their new village, the men built the traditional tree-limb lodges, but the wind blew quite a bit harder where the new village was located, and one night, all of the lodges were blown down.’

‘That must have been a very strong wind,’ the farmer Omago said.

‘Not quite that strong,’ Longbow replied with a grin. ‘Red-Beard and I gave it a bit of help. Then the next morning we put on long faces and told the men of the tribe that tree-limb lodges weren’t strong enough to stand up in “windy-village”, and we suggested sod instead. The men grumbled a bit, but they went on out into the meadow and started digging up sod for all they were worth, while the women came along behind them planting beans and other things that are good to eat. Nobody was offended, and nobody will starve to death this coming winter.’

‘You two are a couple of very devious people,’ Omago’s wife Ara observed.

‘One should always do one’s best when the well-being of the tribe’s involved,’ Red-Beard replied sententiously.

The pretty lady actually laughed.

‘Pushing on, then,’ Dahlaine continued. ‘There are a few herds of those various deer near the western mountains in Matakan, but the most numerous creatures in Matakan are the bison. They’re quite a bit larger than deer, and they have horns instead of antlers. Since the winters are very cold in my Domain, the bison have dense fur, and their hides are quite a bit thicker. Arrows might penetrate that fur and hide, but spears seem to work better.’ Dahlaine went on to describe the Matans’ ‘spear thrower’ again.

‘Something like that would be very difficult to aim, it seems to me,’ Rabbit said.

‘The Matans practice a lot, and they’re good enough to bring home a lot of bison meat.’

‘That’s what counts,’ Longbow said. ‘Their spearheads are stone, aren’t they?’

‘Of course,’ Dahlaine replied. ‘The only metal we have anything to do with here in the Land of Dhrall is gold – and I don’t think gold would make very good spearheads.’

‘I’d say it’s almost time for me to go to work again,’ Rabbit added with a glum sort of look.

‘About all that’s left now is “crazy land”, right?’ Red-Beard suggested, being careful not to smile.

‘Does he always have to do that, Zelana?’ Dahlaine asked his sister.

‘Do what, dear brother?’

‘Turn everything into a joke.’

‘It keeps him happy, Dahlaine, and happy people are nicer than gloomy ones. Haven’t you noticed that before?’

He gave her a hard look, but she just smiled.

‘All right,’ Dahlaine continued. ‘The nation on the east of my Domain is Atazakan, and as our friend who hasn’t yet learned how to shave just suggested, the ruler of that region is fairly insane – which isn’t really his fault, since the last five generations of his family have also been crazy. The current ruler of Atazakan has taken crazy out to the far end, though. He’s absolutely convinced that he’s god. He goes out to the public square in the city of Palandor every morning and gives the sun his permission to rise. Then, late in the afternoon, he goes back to the same place and permits her to set.’

‘She’ll do it without his permission, won’t she?’ Rabbit asked skeptically.

‘Of course she will,’ Dahlaine replied with a faint smile, ‘but that absurd business makes “Holy Azakan” feel more goddish.’

‘I don’t think there’s such a word as “goddish”, Dahlaine,’ Zelana suggested.

‘You understood what I meant, didn’t you, dear sister?’ Dahlaine asked her.

‘Well, sort of, I suppose.’

‘That means that it’s a word, doesn’t it?’

‘Not one that I’d ever use.’

‘You’re a poet, Zelana, so your language is nicer than mine. Anyway, crazy old Azakan desperately wants divinity. Whether he truly believes that he has it might be open to some question, but his subjects – or maybe worshipers – have learned to accept his announcement that he’s a god, because their very lives depend upon it.’

‘Is there anything at all resembling an army in that part of your Domain?’ Sorgan asked.

‘Not really,’ Dahlaine replied. ‘Azakan has a goodly number of guards that call themselves “the Guardians of Divinity”. Their primary duty involves intimidating the populace of Palandor so that they’ll applaud and cheer each time the sun rises or sets at Azakan’s command. They carry poorly made-spears and clubs, but they don’t really know how to use them. I’d say that their primary contribution to a war with the creatures of the Wasteland will involve staying out of the way.’

3

The Seagull and the rest of the Maag fleet sailed on past the narrow channel that opened out into the bay of Lattash without bothering to stop, and Red-Beard heaved a vast sigh of relief – touched with just a faint hint of shame. He was fully aware of the fact that he was evading certain responsibilities, but he knew that the tribe would survive without Red-Beard of Lattash serving as chief.

As they moved on farther north it became more and more obvious that summer was coming to a close. There were aspen trees and birch scattered among the pine, fir, and spruce, and the leaves of those particular trees had begun to turn, spattering the evergreen forest with patches of red and gold. Autumn was the most beautiful season in the forest, but it also gave a warning. Winter was not far away, and only fools ignored that silent warning.

It was about three days after they’d passed the bay of Lattash when Longbow advised Sorgan Hook-Beak that he was going to paddle his canoe ashore so that he could speak with Old-Bear, the chief of his tribe. ‘If anything unusual is happening up in the land of the Tonthakans, Old-Bear will have heard about it.’

Sorgan seemed to be just a bit surprised. ‘Are your people really that familiar with the natives of Lord Dahlaine’s territory?’ he asked.

‘I’ve gone up there a few times myself,’ Longbow replied. ‘It’s always a good idea to get to know the neighbors. There are a few restrictions, of course, but we can usually step around them. As nearly as I can determine, we won’t need the archers of Zelana’s Domain up in her brother’s country – unless the creatures of the Wasteland attack in millions, but it’s probably a good idea for us to stay in touch with Chief Old-Bear. If an emergency comes along, he’ll be able to pass the word to the other tribes. Help will be there if we happen to need it.’

‘I’ll lend you a skiff, if you’d like.’

‘Thanks all the same, Sorgan, but I’m more comfortable in my canoe.’

‘Could you use some company?’ Red-Beard asked his friend. ‘Boats are nice, I suppose, but I’d like to put my feet on solid ground for a little while.’

‘Ships,’ Sorgan absently corrected.

‘You missed me there, Sorgan.’

‘We call them “ships”, not “boats”.’

‘Well excuse me.’

‘I’ll think about it,’ Sorgan replied.

Red-Beard followed his friend out onto the deck of the Seagull, and then the two of them carried Longbow’s canoe up out of the forward hold and lowered it over the side.

It felt good to be in a canoe again, and Longbow’s canoe was one of the smoothest Red-Beard had ever sat in. He rather ruefully conceded that no matter what Longbow did, he was always the best. Some people might have found that irritating, but it didn’t particularly bother Red-Beard. Longbow was his friend, and he almost never tried to compete with him.

It was a balmy autumn day, the waves were gentle, and Longbow’s canoe seemed almost to skim across the surface toward the pebbly beach.

Red-Beard noticed that the men of the tribe seemed to avoid Longbow, which wasn’t really all that unusual. He’d noticed in the past that most people tried to avoid Longbow. ‘It’s probably that grim expression of his,’ Red-Beard said to himself. ‘I’m sure he’d be more popular if he’d just learn how to smile now and then.’

Chief Old-Bear’s lodge stood alone on a small hillock that looked down over the beach. Red-Beard thought that was very unusual. Most tribe-chiefs set up shop right in the center of the village, but Old-Bear seemed to want to be separate – and alone.

He greeted Longbow rather formally, it seemed to Red-Beard, but different tribes have different customs.

‘How did things go in the Domain of Zelana’s brother, my son?’ Old-Bear asked.

Longbow shrugged. ‘It was a bit more complicated there than it was here, my Chief,’ he said, ‘but things turned out quite well. It seems that we have a friend who can do things that Zelana’s family can’t, and she does them without the help of the Dreamers.’

‘The old myths are true, then,’ the chief observed.

‘So it would seem, and she was using me as her spokesman. That got to be just a bit tiresome after a while, and it took me a while to catch up on my sleep.’

Old-Bear looked a bit startled. ‘I must have misunderstood the myth. I’d always assumed that she’d use one of the Dreamer-children to pass her commands on to the outlanders. What did she want you to tell our friends?’

‘Her speech in my dreams was just a bit formal, my Chief, but it more or less boiled down to “get out of the way”. She knew what she was doing, and she didn’t want us to interfere. We had two separate enemies, and they were very busy killing each other – right up until she destroyed them both.’

‘Fire or water?’

‘She used water this time – a lot of water. The creatures of the Wasteland won’t be going south any more, because there’s a large inland sea between them and Veltan’s Domain.’

Chief Old-Bear laughed. ‘I imagine that might have upset the Vlagh just a bit.’

‘More than a bit, my chief,’ Longbow replied. ‘We could hear her screaming from miles away.’

‘Is there something happening that I should know about?’ Red-Beard asked curiously.

‘It’s a very old story that’s been handed down in our tribe for years and years,’ Longbow explained. ‘It has to do with a crisis that lies off in the future and what we’ll have to do to meet that crisis. There are some references to strangers in the myth – probably Sorgan and Narasan – and to some elemental forces – fire, water, wind – that sort of thing. The story’s possibly been garbled just a bit over the years, but down at the bottom, it seems to be very close to what we’ve encountered so far.’

‘Are there any hints about what we ought to be looking for up in the north or off to the east?’

‘Nothing very specific,’ Longbow replied. ‘Visions of one kind or another tend to get just a bit garbled as time goes by.’

‘Do you think the outlanders will need our help if the creatures of the Wasteland attack the Domain of Zelana’s older brother, my son?’ Old-Bear asked.

‘Probably not, my chief,’ Longbow replied. ‘The Tonthakans are fairly good archers, and if the Maag smiths cast bronze arrowheads for them, they should be able to do what needs to be done. If things start getting out of hand, though, I’ll send word to you.’ He paused. ‘How is One-Who-Heals getting along?’ he asked.

‘Not too good, my son,’ Old-Bear replied. ‘It would seem that age is one of the diseases that he can’t heal.’

‘That’s too bad,’ Longbow said. ‘He is – or was – a very good teacher.’ Then he looked at Red-Beard. ‘I’ll be back in just a little while and then we can paddle on back to the Seagull and join our friends.’ Then he left Chief Old-Bear’s lodge.

‘Where’s he going?’ Red-Beard asked Longbow’s chief.

‘To visit Misty-Water, probably,’ Old Bear replied.

‘Oh,’ Red-Beard said. ‘I don’t think he’s ever mentioned her to me – or anybody else – but some of the men in your tribe spoke of her on occasion. People who don’t know about her don’t understand Longbow, and he frightens them. Of course, sometimes he even frightens me.’

‘He was not always like he is now, Red-Beard,’ Old-Bear said. ‘The time will come, I think, when he’ll draw his bow with the Vlagh for his target.’

‘I hope he doesn’t miss when that day comes.’

‘I wouldn’t worry, Red-Beard,’ Old-Bear replied. ‘Longbow never misses when he draws his bow.’

‘I’ve noticed that.’

‘I’m sure you have. Everybody who’s ever met him notices that.’

CASTANO

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