AFTER THIS, suddenly the winter was too short, despite the nightmares of a man with eyes brighter than a dragon's, who wore a red cloak. The snow melted too soon, and too soon the first tight buds knuckled out from the trees, and the first vivid purple shoots parted the last year's dry grass. There was a heavy rich smell in the air, and Aerin kept seeing things in the shadows just beyond the edge of sight, and hearing far high laughter she could not be sure she did not imagine. Sometimes when she saw or heard such somethings she would whip around to look at Luthe, who, as often as not, would be staring into the middle distance with a vague silly smile on his face.

"You aren't really alone up here at all, are you?" she said, and was surprised to feel something she suspected was jealousy.

Luthe refocused his eyes to look at her gravely. "No. But my ... friends ... are very shy. Worse than I am."

"I'll be leaving soon anyway," Aerin said. "They'll come back to you soon enough.''

Luthe did not answer immediately. "Yes. Soon enough,"

She got out Talat's saddle and gear and cleaned everything, and oiled the leather; and upon request Luthe provided her with some heavy canvas and narrow bits of leather, and she rigged a plain breastplate, for Talat had insufficient wither to carry a saddle reliably straight. She also made a little leather pouch to carry the red dragon stone, which had been living under a corner of her mattress, and hung it around her neck on a thong. Then she spent hours currying Talat while the winter hair rose in clouds around them and Talat made hideous faces of ecstasy and gratification.

She came dripping into the grey hall at twilight one evening, having shed a great deal of white hair and dust in the bathhouse, and found Luthe pulling the wrappings off a sword. The cloth was black and brittle, as if with great age, but the scabbard gleamed silver-white and the great blue gem set in the hilt was bright as fire. "Oh," breathed Aerin, coming up behind him.

He turned and smiled at her, and, holding the scabbard in a shred of ragged black cloth, offered her the hilt. She grasped it without hesitation, and the feel of it was as smooth as glass, and the grips seemed to mold to her hand. She pulled the blade free, and it flashed momentarily with a light that cut the farthest shadows of Luthe's ever shadowed hall, and there seemed to be an echo of some great clap of sound that deafened both the red-haired woman and the tall blond man; yet neither heard anything. And then it was merely a sword, glinting faintly in the firelight, with a great blue gem set at the peak of the hilt.

"Yes, I rather thought she was for you," Luthe said. "Goriolo said I would know when the time came. Funny I did not think of her sooner; there can be no better ally against Agsded."

"What - who is she?" Aerin said, holding the tip upright so the firelight would run like water down the length of the blade. "She is Gonturan," Luthe said. "I - er - found her, long ago, on my travels in the - er - East. Before I settled here. Although I think it probable that she called me; there was no good reason for me to have been possessed of a desire to go haring off on a long journey East. I have never been a traveler by nature."

"Called you?" said Aerin, although she had no difficulty in believing that this particular sword could do anything - jump over the moon, turn herself into a juggernaut, speak riddles that might be prophecy. "It's a long story," said Luthe. Aerin took her eyes off the sword long enough to flash him an exasperated look.

"I'll tell you all of it someday," Luthe said, but his voice carried no conviction.

Aerin said quietly, "I leave at the next new moon."

"Yes," said Luthe, so softly she did not hear him but knew only that he must agree; and Gonturan slid like silk into her scabbard. They stood not looking at anything, and at last Aerin said lightly, "It is as well to have a sword; and I left mine in the City, for it is sworn to the king and the king's business; although if Arlbeth knew of Agsded he must admit that Agsded is king's business."

Luthe said, "He would; but he would never admit that it was your business, even if he knew all the story. Arlbeth is a worthy man but, um, traditional. But Gonturan goes with you, and Gonturan is better than a platoon of Damarian cavalry."

"And easier to feed," said Aerin.

"North you must go," said Luthe. "North and east, I think you will find the way."

Talat stood still while Aerin tied the last bundles behind his saddle, but his ears spoke of his impatience. It's been a pleasant sojourn, they said, and we would be happy to return someday; but it's high time we were off now.

Aerin gave a final tug on a strap and then turned to Luthe. He stood next to one of the pillars before his hall. She stared fixedly at the open neck of his tunic so she need not see how the young spring sunlight danced in his hair; but she found herself watching a rapid little pulse beating in the hollow of his throat, and so she shifted her attention to his left shoulder. "Good-bye," she said. "Thanks. Um."

The arm attached to the shoulder she was staring at reached out toward her, and she was so absorbed in not thinking about anything that its hand had seized her chin before she thought to flinch away. The hand exerted upward force and her neck reluctantly bent back, but her eyes stuck on his chin and stayed there.

"Hey," said Luthe. "This is me, remember? You aren't allowed to pretend I don't exist until after you leave my mountain."

She raised her eyes and met his; blue eyes smiled into veiled green ones. He dropped his hand and said lightly, "Very well, have it your way. I don't exist."

She had already turned away, but she turned back at that, and his arms closed around her, and so they stood, while the sun shone down on their two motionless figures and one impatient stallion.

Aerin broke free at last, and heaved herself belly down over the saddle, and swung her leg hastily behind, thumping a bundle with her boot in the process. Talat grunted.

"Come back to me," said Luthe behind her.

"I will," she said to Talat's ears, and then Talat was trotting briskly down the trail. The last Luthe saw of them was a stray blue gleam from the hilt of a sword.

Spring seemed to burst everywhere around them as they went, as though Talat's small round hoofs struck greenness from the earth; as if the last white hairs of his winter coat conveyed a charm to the earth they touched. When they slept, they slept in small glades of trees where leaves had just begun to show; but in the mornings, somehow, the leaves were uncurled and heavy with sap; even the grass Aerin lay on had thickened during the night hours. Talat seemed to grow younger with every day, his shining whiteness brilliant in the sunlight, tirelessly jogging mile after long mile; and the birds followed them, as the leaves opened for them, and the flowers cast their perfumes around them. Aerin saw, and wondered, and thought she was imagining things; and then thought again that perhaps she wasn't; but the sun told her that they went steadily north, and the hard feel of Gonturan in her hand reminded her of why they went.

They had first descended to the forest plain when they left Luthe, and turned right, or north, in the foothills; and here the grass grew to Talat's knees, and he had to wade through it, with a rushing sound like a ship's prow through the sea. Before them the grass was thinner; behind them, when she turned to look, the grass was deepest where their trail had been, and waves of grass rippled out from it in wide curving swells. Aerin laughed. "I believe we go in company after ail, though the company chooses to be silent." Talat cocked his ears back to listen.

But soon they climbed into the mountains again, and there spring had more trouble following them, although she continued to try. Aerin was not conscious of guiding Talat, any more than she had been when they sought for Luthe; they both knew where they were going, and it drew them on; and behind them spring urged them forward. Higher they went, as the sun rose over them and set almost behind them, and the ground underfoot was no longer turf, but rock, and Talat's hoofs rang when they struck.

When they first came to the stony ground, his hoofbeats struck a hard warning sound; they seemed to thunder of doom and loss and failure, and Talat shied away from his own feet. "Nonsense," said Aerin, and dismounted, taking Gonturan with her; and she swung her up over her head and down, and thrust her into the trail before her, which was not rock at all, but earth; and as she drew the blade out again, there were some small crushed grass stems growing from the hole that she had made. Aerin knelt, and picked up a handful of dirt and pebbles from the tiny bit of broken earth before her; and threw her handful down the rocky way before them, as far as her arm could hurl; and as the handful disintegrated, the bits twinkled. She threw another handful after the first; and when she threw this into the air it smelted of the crushed leaves of the surka, and as she looked ahead she saw, as if her eyes had merely overlooked it the first time, a slender grey sapling bearing green leaves; and in its topmost branches there appeared a bird, and the bird sang; and around the tree's foot there grew a budding surka plant, which explained the heavy pungent smell in the air.

"What a pleasant place this is," said Aerin dryly, but it seemed that her words were sucked away from her, and echoed in some narrow place that was not the place where she stood. Her hand tightened a little on Gonturan's hilt, but she raised her chin, as if someone might be watching, and remounted Talat. Now his hoofs rang out merrily, like hoofbeats on the stony ways of the City; and there was grass growing in tufts among the stones, and a few wildflowers clinging to crevices over their heads.

The feeling of being watched increased as they went on, though she saw no one, except, perhaps, at night, when there seemed to be more rustlings than there had been when they were still below on the plain, and more quick glints that might have been eyes. The fifth night since she had plunged Gonturan into the earth, and the twelfth since she had left Luthe, she stood up from her fireside and said into the darkness, "Come, then, and tell me what you want." Her own voice frightened her, for it sounded as if it knew what it was doing, and she was quite sure she did not; and so she staggered and almost fell when after a few moments something did come, and pressed up against her, against the backs of her thighs. She did not move; and before her she saw the glints of many pairs of eyes, moving nearer, at about the right level for creatures the size of the thing that leaned against her legs. She had her arms crossed over her breast; now with infinite reluctance she unbent her right elbow and let the hand dangle down behind her leg, and she felt the creature's breath. She closed her eyes, and then opened them again with an involuntary yelp as a very rough tongue dragged over the back of her hand. The weight against her legs shifted a little, and then a round skull pressed into her palm.

She looked down over her shoulder with dread, and the great cat thing, one of the wild folstza of the mountains, which could carry off a whole sheep or bring down a horse, began to purr. "Pleased to make your acquaintance," Aerin said shakily. "I think."

Her eyes had grown more accustomed to the darkness, and in the shadows now she could see more of the folstza, ten, a dozen, sixteen, twenty; they roved restlessly through the undergrowth as they approached, for, like cats of any size, they did not wish to admit that they approached; all but the one who warmed Aerin's right thigh and shivered her with its purring. At last the folstza sat before her in a semicircle, blinking with green or gold or brown eyes, or looking off into space as if they couldn't imagine how they found themselves there. Some sat neatly, tails curled around four paws; some sprawled like kittens. One or two had their backs to her. They were all sizes, from younglings who hadn't grown into the length of their legs and the size of their feet, to some that were grey-muzzled with age.

"Well," said Aerin. "I'm sure I am - er - grateful for your companionship. If Agsded troubles you too, I'm sure you could be of use in our - er - meeting."

As if this were a signal, the cats stood up and wandered toward the small campfire, where Talat laid his ears back flat to his skull and rolled his eyes till the whites showed. "No," said Aerin bemusedly; "I rather think these are our friends?'' and she looked down at the thing that now twined itself between her legs (it had to scrunch down slightly to accomplish this) and rubbed its head affectionately against her hip.

It was the biggest of the lot of them. The rest were arranging themselves around the fire, some of them in heaps, some of them in individual curls and whorls. The one that now sat and stared up at Aerin was black, with yellow eyes, and short sharp ears with a fringe of fine long black hairs around each; and down his neck and back were cloudy grey splotches that dripped over his shoulders and haunches. She saw the flicker in his eyes and braced herself just in time as he sprang up on his hind legs and put his forepaws on her shoulders. His breath was soft against her face, and the ends of his whiskers tickled her cheeks. He looked faintly disappointed as she stood her ground and stared back at him; and he dropped to all fours again and padded silently over to her bedding, lying unrolled and ready near the fire. He batted it with a forepaw till he'd disarranged it to his liking, and then lay down full length upon it, and smiled at her.

Aerin looked at him. She looked around; the other cats were watching intently through slitted eyes, for all their languor; none of them had their backs to her now. She looked at Talat, who had backed up till his rump and flattened tail were pressed against a tree, and whose ears were still flat to his skull. She looked longingly at Gonturan, hanging from a tree on the far side of the fire, where she had set her when first making camp. Gonturan glittered in the firelight, but Aerin thought she mocked her even as the big cat did, and knew there was no help there.

"Even allies must know their place," Aerin said aloud, and was again startled at how decisive her voice sounded. She stalked over to her blanket and the cat on it, seized the hem of the blanket, and yanked. The cat rolled a complete circumference and came up again looking startled, but Aerin did not stop to watch. She wrapped her blanket around her shoulders, picked up the bundle she used as a pillow, and rearranged herself to sleep at the foot of the tree on the far side of the fire, with Gonturan's hilt in easy reach. She lay down with her back to the fire, and stared wide-eyed at the writhe of tree root before her.

Nothing happened.

The silence was broken only by the small snaps of the fire, and even these, at last, subsided, and real darkness fell. I should keep the fire going. Aerin thought; who knows what else is out there waiting? Who knows ... But her nightmares claimed her, and she fell asleep; and again she was suspended in nowhere, but nowhere was lit with a smoky red light, and a voice was calling her name; or she thought it was her name it called, but perhaps the word was "uncle."

She awoke at dawn with a cramp in her side, for a heavy black-furred head was resting in the hollow between her last rib and her pelvis. As she stirred he began to purr. She sat up anyway, and glared at him. "You are horrible," she said, and he gave her the same sleepy smile as when he had attempted to usurp her bedding.

Talat was dozing uneasily, still leaning against his tree, and was inclined to be cross when she went to put his saddle on; but perhaps that was because of the four-footed grey-edged shadow she brought with her. She rode off without looking behind her; but she felt, if she could not hear, the fluid motion following, and the black cat trotted along beside them as he could, occasionally leaping into the rocks above them as the trail narrowed. Once he jumped over them, from a rock face on one hand to an evergreen tree on the other, showering them with small sharp needles and seedpods; and when he rejoined them Talat whirled and snapped at him, but he only glided out of the way. He was smiling again. "Don't let him tease you," Aerin murmured. Talat's ears stayed back all that day, and he was a little short on the weak leg, for he could not relax.

On the next day the yerigs joined them, the shaggy wild dogs with their great ruffs and silky feathery legs and long curling tails. They were a little less alarming than the folstza only because Aerin was accustomed to the king's hounds, which were only half the size of the yerigs. The royal barn cats who caught the mice that tried to invade the grain bins were barely a tenth the size of the foltsza.

The yerig leader had only one eye, and a torn ear. She touched Aerin's knee gently with her nose and then raised her head to stare fiercely into Aerin's face. "I welcome you," Aerin said to her; and the dogs with her ranged themselves on one side of the campfire while the cats, pretending that the dogs did not exist, still somehow all found themselves on the opposite side of the campfire; and that night Aerin slept very warm, for there was a cat to one side of her and a dog on the other.

Still they traveled north and east, and still the sun rose before them and sank behind them, but it seemed to Aerin, leading her quiet army, that it rose more sluggishly and sank sooner each day; and while the trees still shook out young leaves for her, there were fewer trees, and the solitary sound of Talat's shod hoofs rang duller and duller. Occasionally she thought wistfully of the Lake of Dreams, and of a grey stone hall that stood near it; but she struck these thoughts from her mind as soon as she recognized them.

And then the day came when dawn was barely a lessening of shadow, and the clouds hung so low it took an effort of will to stand up straight and not bow beneath their weight. "Soon," Aerin said to those that followed her; and soon came back to her in a rumble of many throats.

Talat stepped out that morning as if all his joints ached, and Aerin was willing enough to go slowly; she heard little gibbering voices snarling and sniveling at the edges of her mind, and there seemed to be a red fog over her eyes, as if the nothingness that haunted her nights would find her out in the days; and she murmured a word that Luthe had taught her, and the voices stopped, and the fog lifted. But she was not long allowed the pleasure of this small victory, for now a single voice murmured to her, and its murmurs reminded her of her Northern blood, her demon blood ... . "No!" she cried, and bent forward to press her face in Talat's mane, and then she felt the pressure of a heavy paw on her shoulder, and whiskers tickled her cheek, and she opened her eyes to see two yellow eyes in a black face that did not smile; and Talat stood perfectly still, his head bowed, as the black cat's other forepaw pressed into his crest.

She sat up again, and the cat dropped to the ground, and Talat turned his head to look at the cat, and the cat turned his head to look back. Talat's ears, half back, eased a little, and one reluctantly came forward and pointed toward the cat, and the cat walked up to him and put up his nose. Talat's other ear came forward and pricked, and he lowered his nose, and the two breathed gently into each other's faces. Then they went on.

The mountains opened suddenly into an ugly uneven plain; the footing was bad, crumbly and full of small hidden crevasses, and there were no trees at all. Aerin's army stepped and glided and shambled out of the shadows of the rocks and the last leaves, and billowed up around her till she and Talat were the hub of a wheel; and all looked around them. "We are no longer in Damar," she said calmly, and Talat heaved a great sigh. Aerin unslung Gonturan from her saddle, and carried the blade in her hand, for the comfort of her only, for there was nothing for a sword to do in the wide bleak brooding space before them, where no spring could come.

The silence hammered at her, and she heard the little gibbering voices again, but indifferently this time, as if she heard them from behind a locked door whose strength she did not doubt. "Come along, then," she said, and Talat walked forward, yerig and folstza making way for them and then falling in beside them. There was nothing to see but the heavy grey sky and the bleak grey landscape. Mountains again there must be on the far side of this flat grey space; but the clouds ringed them in, and there was no horizon. Her beasts followed her because she led them, but they could not see what she led them to.

Neither could she see aught that was useful; but the small nasty voices in her mind seemed to push harder on one side of her skull than another; and so she went toward them.

And before them suddenly was a black mountain, or crag, or tower, or all three; for it was the size of a mountain, but of the looming impossible shape of a crag that will be ripped into an avalanche in the next great storm; and yet it was also a worked shape, however improbable, as if a hand had built it - surely in its peak was the glint of windows? - but the hand must have belonged to a madman. Around it twined a vast vine of the surka, and Aerin's stomach turned over and fell back in her belly like a stone, and the gibbering voices could be heard to laugh.

She dismounted and walked slowly forward. She raised Gonturan, and Gonturan blazed blue, and the black tower suddenly glowed red, fire red, and the peak of the tower lifted and turned toward her, and the glint of windows was a dragon's red eyes, and the black shadow that bent toward her was a dragon's black head, and it opened its mouth to breathe flame at her. Her left arm went suddenly dead, and then the pain of old burns bit deeply into it, new and fresh; and she smelled her own flesh burning. "No!" she screamed, and dropped Gonturan, and threw up her right arm against the glare of flames, her left arm hanging limp beside her. She turned to run, but something was in her way; something sleek and black tripped her, and she fell against Talat's flank, and her mind cleared, and she no longer smelled scorched flesh. She turned back fearfully, for her left arm still throbbed with memory, but there was no fire, and no dragon; only the black monstrous shape twisted round with leaves.

She bent and picked up her sword; but the blue fire had gone out, and the blade was as dull as the grey plain around them. She looked again to the glint that might be windows, for she knew now that she had come to the place she looked for, knew that Agsded was here. And she knew also that there was no way in, for the way that Gonturan might have won her was lost to her now.

Slowly she circled the great tower, but there were no doors, and now it looked like a mountain after all, and nothing that should have had a door, it was foolish to have supposed otherwise; and her quest was a failure, for if not here then she knew not where. She crawled over the rocks below the surka that wrapped itself around the black crag, for she would not touch the surka if she could help it, this surka that the eye of Agsded must have touched, that his breath might have stirred; but she went alone, for Talat and the folstza and yerig waited where she had challenged the tower with Gonturan's flame and then lost it.

She came round the full circle and knew herself defeated, and she went up to Talat and put her arms around his neck and her face in his mane, as she had done so often before for little hurts and dismays; and now in this great hurt she had no other recourse. He tucked his chin against her arm, but it was no comfort, and she stepped away from him again - and he bolted forward, and reared, and neighed, a war-horse going to battle. She stared at him open-mouthed, the hilt of her dull sword prodding her elbow.

Talat scrambled up the rocks before them, and neighed again; and plunged into the twining surka, which slowed him little. Aerin watching felt that the leaves pulled at him and hindered his passage as best they might; but he surged through them and did not care. He neighed again as he reached the foot of the smoother walls of the tower itself; he was above the vines now, and Aerin could see streaks of their sap on him. He shook his head, and reared again, and struck the walls with his front feet; and sparks flew, and there was a smell as of burning, but of the burning of unclean things. He came to all fours, and then reared and struck again; and then the folstza and the yerig were flowing up over the rocks and through the clinging surka to join him, and the yerig queen flung herself at a high outthrust knob of rock, and scrabbled at it.

"It won't work," Aerin whispered, and Talat reared and struck again, and the smell of burning was stronger.

The folstza were clawing great ropes of vine from the base of the tower, and flinging them down, and the tower seemed to quiver in her sight. The sharp little elbow of rock that the yerig queen clung to gave way suddenly, dumping her at Talat's feet; but where it had been there was a crack in the black wall; and when Talat struck at the crack a fine rain of stone powder pattered down.

The torn vines thrashed like wild things when they touched the sandy grey ground. Aerin reached to touch one of the dark leaves, and it turned into a small banded snake with venomous eyes; but she picked it up anyway, and it was only a leaf. She stood staring as her army sought better purchase on the black rock face; distantly she heard the patter of stone chips, and she picked up another leaf, and wove it through the stem of the first; and another, and then another, and when, suddenly, there was a crash and a roar and she looked up, what she held in her hands was a thick heavy green wreath of surka; and her hands were sticky with the sap.

A great face of the crag had fallen, and within, Aerin saw stairs winding up into the black mountain, red with torchlight; and her army turned its eyes on her, and panted, and many of their mouths dripped pink foam, and many of their feet had torn and bleeding pads. Talat was grey with sweat. With the wreath in her hands, and Gonturan banging lifelessly at her side, she stepped carefully through the rubble, and through the ranks of her army, many of whom touched her lightly with their noses as she passed them, and set her foot on the first stair.