lake。 Or she might overestimate her own knowledge of the caverns and wander lost and lightless until she died from starvation。
There was nothing to do but go on。 He would walk a short way farther； but turn to go back before his torch was half…consumed。 That way； by the time darkness overcame him he should be within hailing distance of the caverns that now housed the greatest remnant of the Hernystiri nation…in…exile。
Eolair lit his second torch with the smoldering remains of the first； then used the smoking butt of the expired brand to mark the wall at the forking of the tunnels with the signature runes of Nad Mullach。 After a moment's consideration he chose the wider of the two ways and started forward。
This tunnel； like the one he had just left； had once been part of the mines that crisscrossed the Grianspog。 At this depth within the mountains it knifed through solid rock。 A moment's thought brought home the unimaginable labor that must have gone into its making。 The cross… timbers that braced it up were broad as the trunks of the greatest trees！ Eolair could not help admiring the careful but heroic work of the vanished workmen…his and Maegwin's ancestors…who had burrowed their way through the very stuff of the world to bring beautiful things back to the light。
The old tunnel slanted downward。 The bobbing torch shone on strange； dim marks scratched into the walls。 These tunnels were long…deserted； but still there seemed an expectant air to them； as though they waited for some imminent return。 The sound of Eolair's boots on the stone seemed loud as a god's heartbeat； so that the Count of Nad Mullach could not help but think of Black Cuamh； the master of deep places。 The earth…god suddenly seemed very real and very near； here in a darkness the sun had never touched since Time's beginning。
Slowing to look more closely at the shallow carvings； Eolair suddenly realized that many of the curious shapes scratched on the walls were crude pictures of hounds。 He nodded as understanding came。 Old Criobhan had once told him that the miners of elder days called Black Cuamh 〃Earthdog；〃 and left him offerings in the farthest tunnels so that he would grant his protection against falling rocks or bad air。 These carvings were pictures of Cuamh surrounded by the runes of miner's names； tokens that begged the god's favor。 Other offerings implored the help of Cuamh's servants； the deep…delving dwarrows； supernatural beings presumed to grant favors and wealthy ore…veins to lucky miners。
Eolair took the snuffed torch and made his initials again beneath a round…eyed hound。
Master Cuamh； he thought； if you still watch these tunnels； bring Maegwin and our people through to safety。 We are sorely； sorely pressed。
Maegwin。 Now there was a distressing thought。 Had she no feeling for her responsibilities？ Her father and brother were dead。 The late king's wife Inahwen was little older than Maegwin herself and far less capable。 Lluth's heritage was in the princess' hands…and what was she doing with it？
Eolair had not objected so much to the idea of moving deeper into the caverns： summer had brought no respite from the cold or from Skali's armies； and the slopes of the Grianspog Mountains were not the kind of place to last out a siege of either sort。 The Hernystiri who had survived the war were scattered throughout the farthest wildernesses of Hernystir and the Frostmarch； but a large and important part was here with the shreds of the king's household。 This was indeed where the kingdom would endure or fail： it was time to make it a more permanent and defensible home。
What had worried Eolair； though； was Maegwin's wild fascination with the depths of the earth； with moving ever deeper into the mountain's heart。 For days now； long after the shifting of the camps was finished； Maegwin had been wandering away on unspecified errands； disappearing into remote and unexplored caverns for hours at a stretch； returning at sleeping…time with her face and hands dirty and her eyes full of a preoccupation that looked much like madness。 Old Criobhan and the others asked her not to go； but Maegwin only drew herself up and coldly declaimed that they had no right to question Lluth's daughter。 If she was needed to lead the people in defense of their new home； she said； or to tend the wounded； or to make decisions of policy； she would be there。 The rest of the time was her own。 She would use it as she saw fit。
Concerned with her safety； Eolair also asked her where she went； suggesting that she should not go wandering in the depths again without him or some other panions。 Maegwin； unmoved； would only speak mysteriously of 〃help from the gods；〃 and the 〃tunnels that led back into the days of the Peaceful Ones〃…as much as saying that small…minded idiots like the Count of Nad Mullach should not concern themselves with things they could not understand。
Eolair thought she was going mad。 He was frightened for Maegwin and her people…and also for himself。 The count had watched her long slide。 Lluth's mortal injury and the treacherous slaying other brother Gwythinn had wounded something inside her； but the wound was in a place Eolair could not reach and all his best efforts seemed only to make things worse。 He did not know why his attempts to help her in her sorrow should distress her so； but he understood that the king's daughter feared being pitied more than she feared death。
Unable to ease her pain； or his own hurt at the sight of her suffering； he could at least help keep her alive。 But how could he do even that when the king's daughter did not want to be saved？
Today had been the worst yet。 Maegwin had risen before the first gleam of dawn bled through the chink in the cavern root； then had taken torches and ropes and a collection of other ominous things before vanishing into the tunnels。 She had not returned by the end of the afternoon。 After supper； Eolair…tired himself from a day's patrolling through the Circoille Woods…had set out after her。 If he did not find her soon； he would return and raise a search party。
For the better part of an hour he followed the meandering tunnels downward； marking his progress on the walls； watching his torch dwin… dle。 He had gone beyond the point where he could pretend to himself he would be able to walk all the way back in light。 He was unwilling to give up； but if he waited much longer there would be two lost in the cata… bs； and what benefit was that to anybody？
He stopped at last in a place where the way opened out into a rough…hewn chamber； with black tunnel mouths leading away in three more directions。 He swore； realizing that the time had e to stop fooling himself。 Maegwin could be anywhere； he might even have passed her。 He would return to the jibes of the others； the princess back safely an hour before。 Eolair smiled grimly and bound up his horsetail of black hair； which had e unbraided as he walked。 Jokes would not be so bad。 Better to suffer a little humiliation than 。 。 。
A thin voice whispered into the rock chamber； a trace of melody faint as an old memory。
〃。 。 。 His voice echoed out through woods and through wild。
Where two hearts had sounded now beat only one 。。。〃
Eolair's heart sped。 He walked into the chamber's center and cupped his hands around his mouth。
〃Maegwin！〃 he cried。 〃Where are you。 Lady？ Maegwin！〃
The walls boomed with echoes。 When they had died he listened carefully； but there was no answering cry。
〃Maegwin； it is Eolair！〃 he called。 Again he waited for the chorus of shouting voices to quiet。 This time the stillness was broken by another tenuous strand of song。
〃。 。 … Her dark eyes sky…watching；
Only her shining blood gave him answer；
Her head lay uncradled； her black hair undone。。。 〃
He moved his head from side to side； determining at last that the singing seemed loudest from the left…hand opening。 He ducked his head through and shouted in surprise as he almost tumbled into blackness。 He pushed outward at the craggy walls to steady himself； then bent to pick up the torch he had dropped； but even as he reached down； the flame sizzled and vanished。 His hand felt water by