imprecations. Each attends to his or her own wants and cares nothing of what normal men think of them. If he saved you intentionally, and it seems certain that he did, he had reasons of his own for doing so.'
'Reasons most excellent,' Ergo agreed. Having reassembled, the expedition headed back toward the trail, but not before Ergo had checked to make sure that the terrifying fracas had not cost him his supply of dearly won gooseberries. He'd suffered too much to abandon them now.
Colwyn was not pleased to find that the trail climbed above the wooded ridge. Once more he found himself traversing bare rock broken only by the occasional wind-dwarfed tree. He did not like open, cold places. An imaginative man might find his mind wandering among the boulders and ravines, unwillingly transforming them into malign lines and designs.
That sharp, dark jumble of serrated granite off to his left, for example, might well be the exterior of the Black Fortress. That was a barrier he would confront soon enough, and he drew no joy from the image. He preferred to think only of Lyssa and the few moments they'd shared. The forest reminded him of her. The naked stone did not.
Odd how so powerful an attachment could be formed on the basis of so brief an encounter, he mused. It was as if they had been man and wife for years instead of merely newlyweds-to-be. It had surprised him then and had seemed to surprise her as well. Only Ynyr did not seem surprised at the extent of Colwyn's feelings for a woman but fleetingly met. But then, little seemed to surprise Ynyr. Turold had been very different.
Thoughts of his father turned Colwyn's mood dark and he fought to concentrate on other things. Consider the side of the mountain they were approaching, for example. That was an object devoid of emotional overtones. Bare rock was no candidate for melancholy reflection. It was an elemental vision that brooked no mental coloration, a cliff of clean granite towering several thousand feet cloudward. There is no false pretense in stone, he thought. It can be trusted with idle thoughts.
He looked over toward Ynyr. The old man sat stolidly in his saddle, staring straight ahead. There was nothing in his posture or expression to indicate that he intended to change direction. Colwyn studied the cliff they were approaching more intently. It could not be climbed.
Ynyr finally stopped at the base of the mountainside and dismounted. Colwyn did the same. The old man spoke to the young king and to Torquil.
'We three will go.'
'Go where?' The bandit chief eyed the cliff unhappily.
'Up that? I have strong fingers and have been in some difficult places, old man, but I am not a bird.'
'Nor am I,' Ynyr reminded him. 'We are not going to do any climbing.' He glanced past him. 'The rest of you will remain here to guard the horses.'
'We four will go.' Ergo hastened to join them. 'I'm not staying here with these criminals!'
'Why, what's wrong, Ergo?' asked Kegan. 'Don't you trust us?' Behind him, a grinning Bardolph lightly fingered the point of his golden dagger.
'It's not that,' Ergo answered, hastening to soothe any injured feelings. 'Only that I could not think of allowing my Lord Colwyn to place himself in danger where I could not be of assistance to him.'
'Aye, I see your point,' said Kegan. 'One never knows when one might encounter a band of Slayers who could be terrified into submission by the sight of a hysterical pig.' The other escapees joined in his laughter.
With great dignity Ergo turned and followed the others. 'It is also clear that my advice is not appreciated by those of lower intelligence.' This last was whispered aloud only when he was well out of sword reach.
Colwyn sighed indulgently. 'Very well. We four will go.' He looked to Ynyr.
'As you wish. It will not matter once we are inside.'
Ergo didn't like the sound of that but saw no way of backing down. He was committed to whatever lay inside. Out of the tart into the pie pan, he thought. Better the other way around. Oh well, glory awaits. But he took care to stay well behind Colwyn and Ynyr. There was no point in rushing on to glory.
A modest hike brought them to an open place before a sheer cliff. Ergo took a moment to try ingratiating himself further with the leader of the escaped prisoners.
'He marches us straight toward the sheer face of the rock.' He nodded at Ynyr. 'The old man has raisins in his braincase.'
'And you have fruit on the brain,' Torquil replied. 'You and I should have such raisins.' He stopped and put out a restraining arm, which knocked the breath from the smaller man. 'Hold. See? Some magic is about to happen.'
Ergo stared. Ynyr stood at the foot of the cliff, waiting patiently and doing nothing. 'What magic? He stands like one paralyzed. That is not magic. Constipation, perhaps, but not magic.'
Torquil glared at him. 'You have no respect for your elders.'
'I never got anything from my elders except beatings and bad advice.' He gestured at the motionless Ynyr. 'Why should I look differently on this one?'
As he spoke, the face of the cliff began to change. Sheets of flowing green appeared, a bright wash of color that covered a portion of the bare rock. Ynyr stepped forward… to be swallowed up by the waterfall as though the stone beyond had vanished. Colwyn followed. Torquil glanced meaningfully down at his companion.
Ergo shrugged. 'All right, so that's a good reason. I didn't see him do anything, though.' But the condition of his belly belied his words as he watched the disdainful Torquil disappear into the green cascade.
First you threaten to turn a king into a toad and now you dispute a true wise man's knowledge. It was a wonder he was still alive.
For several moments he debated whether to follow or return to the camp. As he hesitated, he fingered the interior of a pocket. He was already out of gooseberries. Nothing to live for, then.
Cursing under his breath at having fallen in with such a group of visionaries and thieves, he reluctantly hurried to catch up with the others.
'Mad,' he mumbled as he stepped anxiously into the waterfall. 'They're all mad.'
Inside they found themselves walking down a passageway lit by the same cool green glow that had suffused the waterfall. It led inward and down. The slope was gentle.
Colwyn was glad of the coolness. He'd recently found himself inside a mountain cave where the air was considerably less hospitable. Clearly this place was nothing like the cavern of the glaive. There was no steam, no sign of lava or stink of sulfur. The temperature stayed pleasant as they walked, though he wondered at the complete absence of any breeze.
The tunnel made a sharp turn to the right and opened onto a spacious chamber that had been hollowed from the rock by some unknown force. Light penetrated from above, so bright that its source could not be discerned. The walls and ceiling were smooth and relatively featureless. Colwyn could not tell if the chamber had been formed by natural forces or the hand of man.
The room was sparsely decorated. A few draperies and hangings, utensils and plates of common shape and manufacture. On a simple seat sat an old man whose gaze seemed to be elsewhere. Colwyn advanced, his eyes never leaving the white-bearded figure. He noted the way the eyes twitched absently, never focusing on anything in particular.
Seer or not, this old man would seek his visions without the aid of normal sight. He was quite blind. Close by sat a young boy whose eyes never left the visitors. The child's movements were short and quick. Colwyn thought of the cats that infested Turold Castle. Here in this boy they surely had a quiet, two-legged relation.
The stone that rested before the old man elicited a gasp of admiration from Torquil, professional reliever of other men's possessions that he was. The emerald glowed with a powerful inner light and was no less than the size of the old man's head. Colwyn suspected that it was not the ordinary stone of Torquil's avaricious dreaming but rather a colorful manifestation of much more, just as its owner's vision extended into realms other men saw only as darkness and mystery.
The old man's hands moved through a picture hovering above the pulsating gem: the image of four wanderers. Colwyn had no difficulty recognizing his companions and himself. The wrinkled fingers swept easily through the image like birds through a cloud, without altering or distorting it. Unable to sense their presence with his eyes, the seer was tasting of his visitor's essence via means they could not fathom.
'I recognize an old friend,' he said softly. Ynyr motioned for Colwyn and the others to wait. He stepped forward toward the seer. The boy watched carefully.
'A fellow student of knowledge,' the seer continued, his fingers picking at smoke.
