e turned to look up the slope； so that it almost seemed to Deornoth he had sighted them in the fastness of the shadows。 Deornoth lowered his arrowhead until it pointed at the cloaked chest beneath the faint moon of face。
〃Steady now；〃 Josua murmured； 〃a moment more。。。〃 There was a rush and clatter in the branches overhead。 A dark shape battered at Deornoth's head； startling him so that the arrow flew free； high above its intended mark。 Deornoth shouted in alarm and staggered back； raising his hands to protect his eyes； but whatever had struck him was gone。
〃Stop！〃 a voice cried from the trees above； a creaking； whistlingly inhuman voice。 〃Stop！〃
Isorn； who had stared in stupefaction as Deornoth swatted at nothing； turned grimly and lowered his own arrow to the target。 〃Demons！〃 he growled； pulling his bowstring back to his ear。
〃Josua？〃 somebody called from the meadow below。 〃Prince Josua？ Are you there？〃
There was a moment of silence。 〃Aedon be praised；〃 Josua breathed。 He pushed his way through the crackling undergrowth and strode out into the full light of the moon； his cloak billowing like a sail in the fierce wind。 〃I am here！〃 he shouted。
〃What is he doing？〃 Isorn hissed frantically。 Vorzheva let out a small cry of anguish； but Deornoth； too； had recognized the voice。
〃Josua？〃 the leader of the horsemen cried。 〃It is Hotvig of the Stallion Clan。〃 He pushed back his hood to show his beard and wind…tossed yellow hair。 〃We have followed you for days！〃
〃Hotvig！〃 Vorzheva shouted anxiously。 〃Is my father with you？〃
The Thrithings…man laughed harshly。 〃Not him； Lady Vorzheva。 The March…thane is no happier with me than he is with you or your husband！〃
As the randwarder and Josua clasped hands； the rest of the prince's party emerged from the copse of trees； tight…strung muscles trembling； babbling among themselves with relief。
〃There is much to tell； Josua；〃 Hotvig said as his fellow riders came up the slope to join them。 〃First； though； we must make a fire。 We have been riding fast as the Grass Thunderer himself。 We are cold and very tired。〃
〃Indeed；〃 Josua smiled。 〃A fire。〃
Deornoth stepped forward and took Hotvig's hand in his。 〃Praise Usires' mercy；〃 he said。 〃We thought you were Fengbald； the High King's man。 I was a moment from loosing an arrow into your heart； but something struck my hand in the darkness。〃
〃You may praise Usires；〃 a dry voice said； 〃but I had something to do with it； too。〃
Geloe came out of the trees behind them； marching down the slope and into the circle of torchlight。 The witch woman； Deornoth realized with a start； wore a cloak and breeches that came from his own saddlebag。 Her feet were unshod。
〃Valada Geloe！〃 Josua said in wonderment。 〃You e unlooked…for。〃
〃You may not have looked for me； Prince Josua； but I looked for you。 And a good thing that I did； else this night might have ended in bloodshed。〃 〃It was you that struck me before I could let my arrow fly？〃 Deornoth said slowly。 〃But how。。。？〃
〃Time enough for stories later；〃 Geloe said； then kneeled as Leieth pulled free of Gutrun's clutch to run into the wise woman's arms with a wordless cry of pleasure。 As she embraced the child； Geloe's huge yellow eyes held Deornoth's gaze； he felt a shiver travel down his backbone。 〃Time enough for stories later；〃 she repeated。 〃Now it is time to make a fire。 The moon is far along in her journey。 If you are on your horses by dawn tomorrow； you will reach the Stone of Farewell before dark。〃 She looked up at the northern sky。 〃And perhaps before the storm； as well。〃
The sky was tar…black with angry clouds。 The rain was turning into sleet。 Rachel the Dragon； chilled and storm…battered； stepped into the lee of a building on Ironmonger's Street for a moment's rest。 The byways of Erchester were empty but for flurrying hailstones and a solitary figure carrying a large bundle on its back as it trudged away through the mud toward Main Row。
Probably leaving for the countryside； carrying all his wordly goods； she thought bitterly。 Another one gone； and who could blame him？ It's like the plague has run through this city。
Shivering； she set out once more。
Despite the vicious weather； many of the doors along Ironmonger's Street swung back and forth unlatched； opening to giving a glimpse of empty blackness beyond； banging closed with a sound like breaking bones。 It was indeed much as if some pestilence had devastated Erchester； but it was a scourge of fear rather than disease that was driving out the city's denizens。 This； in turn； had forced the Mistress of Chambermaids to walk the entire length of the ironmongery district before she could find someone to sell her what she needed。 She carried her new purchase under her cloak and against her bosom； hidden from the sight of passersby…of which there were obviously few…and perhaps； she hoped； somehow also hidden from the eyes of a disapproving God。 The irony was that there had been no necessity to walk through the savage winds and deserted streets： any of several hundred implements in the Hayholt's kitchen would have admirably suited her bill of particulars。
But this was her own plan and her own decision。 To take what she needed from Judith's cupboards might put the fat Mistress of Kitchens in jeopardy。 and Judith was one of the few castle folk for whom Rachel felt respect。 More importantly； it truly was Rachel's own plan； and in a way it had been necessary for her to walk one more time through Erchester's haunted alleyways： it was helping her work up the courage to do what must be done。
Spring cleaning； she reminded herself grimly。 A shrill； un…Rachel…like laugh escaped her lips。 Spring cleaning in midsummer； with snow on the way。 She shook her head； feeling a momentary urge to sit down in the muddy street and cry。 That's enough； old woman； she told herself； as she often did。 There's work to be done； and no rest this side of Heaven。
If there had been any doubts that the Day of Weighing…Out was almost at hand； just as foretold in the holy Book of the Aedon； Rachel had only to think back to the et that had appeared in the sky during the spring of Elias' regnal year。 At the time； with the optimism of those days not long past； many had thought it a sign of a new age and a new beginning for Osten Ard。 Now it was clear as well water that it had instead prophesied the last days of Trial and Doom。 And what else； she upbraided herself； could such a hellish red slash in the sky mean？ It was only blind foolishness that could have made anyone think otherwise。
Welladay； she thought； peering from beneath her hood at the desolate shops of Main Row； we have all made our bed of pain： now God will make us lie in it。 In His anger and wisdom He's given us plague and drought； and now unnatural storms。 And who could ask for a plainer sign than the poor old lector dying so horribly？
The shocking news had swept through the castle and city below like flame。 Folk had spoken of little else for the last week： Lector Ranessin was dead； murdered in his bed by some terrible pagans called Fire Dancers。 These godless monsters had also set part of the Sancellan Aedonitis ablaze。 Rachel had seen the lector when he came for John's funeral； a fine and holy man。 Now； in this dreadful year of years； he； too； had been stuck down。
Lord save our souls。 The holy lector murdered； and demons and spirits walking the night； even in the Hayholt itself。 She shuddered； thinking of the sight she had seen from the window of the servant's quarters one night not long ago。 Lured to the window； not by any sound or sight； but rather by some undefmable feeling； she had silently left her sleeping charges and clambered up onto a stool； leaning on the window casement to look out on the Hedge Garden below。 There； amid the shadowy shapes of the hedge…animals； had stood a circle of silent； black…robed figures。 Almost breathless with terror； Rachel had rubbed at her old and treacherous eyes； but the figures were no dream or illusion。 Even as she stared； one of the hooded shapes had turned to look up at her； its eyes black holes in a corpse…white face。 She had run back and leaped into her hard bed；