XV.

The Beshtel chieftain prostrated himself, keeping his face pressed to the ground. Around him the rest of the war party did the same. He stared down at the turf and breathed in the smell of fresh grass. It calmed him. He did not look up at the woman in front of him, or her exhausted companions. She had not given her permission. He tried not to think about what she had done to the spiritman while he waited for her to speak. The man would be given a proper burial, with the full rites. He had been brave, but stupid.

The woman sitting on her horse had wrapped herself up against the cold with a heavy coarse woollen cloak. Now she pulled it tighter around her, uncomfortable in the chilly mountain breeze. It stirred her close-cropped red hair, just beginning to grow back now. The silence was lengthening. She cast about her with her good eye, looking for the scout to translate her words. The other socket gaped emptily. She'd had three blue triangles tattooed around it, drawing in any watcher's gaze. The scout avoided looking at it as he hastily nudged his horse into view.

She ignored him, and raised the branch of yew she carried in her right hand. It was the oldest badge of a magician, from a time before men had learned to trap and direct the flow of magic with their carved staffs and wands. She felt nothing but contempt for those weaklings and their mumbled charms and props. They had forgotten you could ride the rush of power, letting it wash through you and flood out into the world.

Every eye followed the branch. Even the rustling of her own surviving
clansmen fell still as they waited for her to speak. She let them wait a
moment, hanging anxiously on her silence. Then she rattled out her orders
and let the scout begin his translation, tripping over himself in his rush
to catch up with her. She could have burned the words into their brains with
a gesture of course, but it pleased her to watch their confused scramble to obey her. Briefly, it occurred to her to wonder if she would ever get bored with these
games, but she dismissed the thought. Ridiculous. There were some things one never got tired of watching.

Ϊskangdrur thought about food.

It wasn't hungry, except in the way that a troll is always hungry; the distant biting and gnawing in the pit of the belly that drives it always to hunt. It had left the others in the lair behind it, feasting on the carcass of a mountain bear- the previous occupant. Pok had seized its share of the liver and gulped down the rich and oily meat. Its belly gurgled resentfully. It wanted juicy meat.

Driven off, it had wandered away to follow the trickle of the lair's stream. Now it dipped its claws under the cold water and squatted stock-still. The small blind fish there scooted carelessly over its trap, and it scooped them up, one after another. They wriggled pleasantly on the way down. After its seventeenth fish Ϊskangdrur had eaten enough. It felt too full to bother with the trek pack to the lair. Instead, it splashed out of the stream and curled up around itself to sleep. It dreamed of running down deer.

Ϊskangdrur woke cramped and dry-mouthed. It padded over to the stream and cupped its claws to drink. It ate more of the little fish, but they didn't satisfy anymore. It would have to go back to the others to find more food. Ϊskangdrur stood and stretched its limbs. The joints popped satisfyingly, and it yawned widely at its image. Its reflection's teeth gleamed wetly back.

Hunnah looked at the travel rations in her lap and back at the cooking pots hanging from her pack longingly. They were camped in the cave at the bottom of the well the stone claimed Kang had gouged out of the rock pinnacle. The well was narrow, and the climb down had been tight and dark. Surely a fire, hidden down here-

"Forget it," Coin told her "We'd be smoked out in seconds."

"I know that!" the monk snapped back irritably. Jothanial had forbidden them to light a fire last night as well. After the hard climbing yesterday, the lack of hot food was beginning to strain the monk's serenity. Coin was exasperated by her appetite, and didn't seem to feel any hunger pangs. The halfling found that particularly galling. Humans never ate enough, she reflected as she munched on her hard tack. It was why the whole race was always so skinny and bad-tempered.

The breakfast was quickly finished in silence, and they quickly packed up camp. Blankets and gear pushed and jammed back into packs. Coin lit both of their lanterns and passed one to her. The gem was carefully stowed away in Coin's money belt. Methodically they began to search the shadows of the first cave for the entrance to the second. Gradually the irritated silence between them changed to one of anticipation. Even Hunnah felt charged with an undercurrent of excitement, unexpressed but undeniably there. What will we find buried here, she wondered silently, at the end of our little journey?

Ϊskangdrur paused as it turned away from the stream. It tilted its head and listened intently. There it was again; A clattering sound, metal on rock, coming from behind the wall of the cave. It turned its massive shaggy head, sniffing the air. Yes, yes the air was fresher down that way. There must be a passage to another cavern somewhere amongst the cracks and corners. What was making that noise?

It hunched forward and picked its way carefully towards the back of the cave. Its long arms reached ahead, picking out a silent route for its thick stumpy legs. Its webbed feet made little sucking noises on the cold stone floor. A gentle waft of air stirred the iron grey hair of its head. It snuffled delicately. Dust and smoke…and prey-scent, rich and satisfying and maddeningly close.

Ϊskangdrur's eyes turned upwards…

There.

A triangular patch of darkness deeper then the rest, high up the cave wall. Up came Ϊskangdrur's hands, grasping the stalactites to haul itself up, it crawled up the cave like a giant grey spider. It poked its shaggy head into the crack cautiously. A light! Held above it, it was blinding after the dark of the cave. But its watering eyes still caught the warm, soft glow of prey. Slowly it reached out one clawed hand…

Coin lifted the lantern and peered into the shadows. There! A crack in the cave wall, a narrow passage they could scramble down. He scrabbled over the pebbly floor and looked down. Two tiny fires reflected his lamp light back at him. What…?