Runemarks

The thing was not large-the size of a watermelon-and was roughly rounded in shape. It might have been a lump of glowing rock, suspended by who knew what forces in the gullet of the pit.

Surely there could be little hope of recovering anything from such a hiding place. The most skilled climber could not reach it; even assuming he could somehow withstand the blaze, the geyser would shoot him back out of the pit like a cork from a bottle before he had covered half the distance.

Besides, any fool could see that the thing was caught fast: a flexible webwork of glamours and runes bound it tighter than the strongest of chains.

As she watched, the rock seemed to glow even brighter, like an ember beneath the blacksmith’s bellows. A thought as absurd as it was troubling struck her- It sees me-and looking down into the pit, she could almost believe she heard it now-a strong, soundless call that seemed to drill into her mind.

(Maddy! To me!)

“The Whisperer.”

Now she began to move away, breathless and almost fainting from the heat, once more using the rocks and hollows of the cavern for shelter. She could do no more for the present. All she could hope for was to recover her strength and try to think of some kind of plan or, if she could not, to find her way back to the Red Horse and tell One-Eye that, whatever his disappointment in her failure to bring back the Whisperer, he could at least be fairly sure that no one else would ever lay hands on it.

It was cooler at the edge of the cavern, and the air, though noxious, was easier to breathe. Maddy rested there for some time, letting her eyes adjust once more to the gloom. There were smaller caves set into the cavern’s sides, some barely alcoves, others as large as fair-sized rooms, which might give reasonable shelter from tremors and eruptions.

In one she found a trickle of clean water and drank gratefully, for her thirst had begun almost to equal her hunger.

In another she found a vein of dull yellow metal almost as thick as her arm running through the wall.

And in the third, much to her surprise, she found a stranger standing with his back against the wall and a loaded crossbow pointing straight into her face.

4

For a second or two she was confused. The figure in the shadows seemed to have no shape, no substance-all she could see was his eyes and a slash of light across his mouth that flickered and glowed. But if her mind was fuddled, her hands seemed to know exactly what to do. Impulsively she raised them and, without a moment’s hesitation, cast Kaen-Wildfire-as hard as she could into the stranger’s face.

Why Maddy had chosen that particular rune she could not have told you, but its effect was immediate and devastating. It struck her would-be attacker like a whip, so that he dropped his crossbow with a howl and fell to his knees on the cavern floor.

Maddy was almost as stunned as he was. She had acted on pure instinct, with no anger and no desire to harm. And now that she could see him more clearly, she was surprised to discover that her assailant was not the giant super-goblin she had imagined, but a slim red-haired person not much bigger than she was.

“Get up,” she said, kicking the crossbow out of his reach.

“My eyes,” said the stranger behind his upflung arms. “Please. My eyes.”

“Get up,” she repeated. “Show me your face.”

He looked no more than seventeen. His red hair was tied back, revealing sharp but not unpleasant features, now drawn with pain and distress. His eyes were streaming, and there was a vicious welt across the bridge of his nose where the mindbolt had struck, but otherwise-to Maddy’s relief-there seemed to be no lasting damage.

“My eyes.” In the light from the distant fire pit they were a curious, flaming green. “Gods, what hit me?”

In all events he was no goblin, but Maddy could tell at once that he was not from the valley, although there was nothing outlandish in his bearing or dress. A little ragged, perhaps, as if he had traveled rough; his leather jacket was deeply stained, and his boots were worn thin at the soles.

Slowly he got to his feet, squinting at Maddy, one hand lifted defensively in case of another attack. “Who are you, anyhow?” His accent marked him as a stranger-a northerner, from the Ridings perhaps, judging from the color of his hair. But Maddy, who had initially been alarmed at finding him, was now surprised at the depth of her relief. To see another human being after so many hours alone in the caverns was an unexpected joy, even if the stranger did not share it. “Who are you?” he repeated sharply.

Maddy told him.

“You’re not with them?” he said, jerking his head at the upper levels.

“No. Are you?”

“You’re a Fury,” he said. “I can see your glam.”

“A Fury?” Maddy looked at her runemark and saw it glowing dully on the palm of her hand. “Oh, that. It won’t hurt you, I promise.”

She could see the stranger was not convinced. Every muscle in him seemed tensed, as if he were uncertain whether to run or fight, but his eyes stayed fixed upon Maddy’s hand.

“It’s all right-I won’t spell you. What’s your name?”

“Call me Lucky,” he said. “And keep your distance.”

Maddy sat down on a rock by the entrance. “Is that better?”

“For now, yes.”

For a moment they faced each other. “Do your eyes still hurt?”

“What do you think?” he snapped.

“I’m sorry,” said Maddy. “I thought you were going to shoot me.”

“You could have asked me instead of just belting me in the face.” Cautiously he fingered his damaged nose.

“I know a runecharm that would help.”

“No thanks.” He seemed to relax a little. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

Maddy hesitated for only an instant. “I’m lost,” she said. “I came here through the Horse’s Eye and got lost in the tunnels.”

“Why’d you come?”

She hesitated again-and decided on a half-truth. “Don’t you know?” she said. “The whole Hill’s a giant treasure mound. Gold left over from the Elder Age. Isn’t that why you came here?”

Lucky shrugged. “I’ve heard the tale,” he said. “But there’s nothing here. Nothing but trash and goblins.”

He had been hiding out in the tunnels for nearly two weeks, Maddy learned. He had entered World Below from the other side of the mountains, beyond Hindarfell; had evaded capture several times on his way before finally running into a posse of goblins who caught him and took him to their captain.

“Their captain?” said Maddy.

He nodded. “Great big vicious brute. Seemed to think I was some sort of spy. When I told him I was just a glassblower’s prentice from up the Ridings, he flew into a rage and swore he’d starve the truth out of me. Then he shut me up in a hole and left me there for three days.”

On the third day Lucky had got lucky. In the floor of his cell he had uncovered a grating, once the opening to a drainage tunnel, through which he had managed to escape. Famished, filthy, and afraid, he had stolen what he could from the goblins’ stores before finding his way to relative safety, where he had been hiding ever since, living on fish and fresh water from the river, plus what was left of his stolen supplies.

“I’ve been trying to get back aboveground,” he told Maddy, “but every goblin under the Hill’s after me now. They won’t come here, though,” he said, looking beyond her at the glowing fire pit. “None of that rabble ever comes this far.”

But Maddy’s attention was elsewhere. “Food?” she said. “You’ve got food here?”

“Why? You hungry?”

“What do you think?”

For a moment Lucky seemed unsure. Then he came to a decision. “All right. This way.” And with that he led her out of the cave and along the edge of the fire pit cavern until they reached a place where the river, running swift and dark from an opening in the wall, had been partly diverted by a fall of rocks.

“Wait here,” he told Maddy. Then he ran up to the water’s edge, leaped up onto a cluster of fallen boulders, and vaulted off into the darkness.

For a second Maddy was alarmed-from where she was standing, it looked as if Lucky had simply flung himself into the rapids. But she could see him now, standing on a flat shelf about halfway into the stream, white water surging around him. He must have known about the shelf, Maddy thought; even so, it was a dangerous move. Still, any fisherman will tell you that river fish love fast water best of all, and Maddy was not surprised when, a few seconds later, Lucky bent down and pulled sharply at something at his feet.

It was a fish trap, cleverly woven from string or twine. Lucky inspected the contents, hefted the net over his shoulder, and returned, moving quickly and deftly over the hidden rocks.

While he was thus occupied, Maddy watched him closely through Bjarkan-the magic circle of finger and thumb. She made certain he didn’t see her do it; she didn’t want to frighten him off. Still, Trust no one, One-Eye had said, and she wanted to be sure that this glassblower’s boy was all that he appeared to be.

But Bjarkan confirmed what she already felt. Lucky cast no colors at all. Her first, fleeting impression-that of someone older, taller, with fiery eyes and a crooked smile-had been nothing but a trick of the light and of her own fears. And as Lucky reached the water’s edge, grinning, with his catch over his shoulder, Maddy breathed a sigh of relief and allowed herself-at last-to unbend.

They shared the catch between them. Lucky showed Maddy how to cook the fish. These were sour-fleshed and bony, with huge, blind eyes, but Maddy ate every scrap of hers, licking her fingers and making hungry little noises of appreciation.

Quietly Lucky watched her eat. The messy business of catching, cooking, and eating the fish had broken much of the ice between them, and he had dropped his sullen manner and become quite friendly. Maddy guessed that he was as relieved as she was to find an ally in the tunnels, and the fact that he had survived here alone