loft； hidden in tickling hay； watching the familiar figures of Shem Horsegroom and castle smith Ruben the Bear talking quietly below。 Ruben； his broad arms glimmering with sweat； was hammering clankingly away at a scarlet…hot horseshoe。
Suddenly the dream took on a strange cast。 Ruben's and Shem's voices changed； until they sounded nothing like their real selves。 Simon could now hear the conversation perfectly well； but the smith's hammer was silent as it struck the gleaming iron。
〃。。。But I have done all you asked for；〃 Shem abruptly said in a queer； rasping tone。 〃I brought King Elias to you。〃
〃You presume too much；〃 Ruben replied。 His voice was like nothing Simon had ever heard； cold and remote as the wind in a high mountain pass。 〃You know nothing of what we want。。。 of what He wants。〃 There was more wrong with the blacksmith than just his voice： a feeling of wrongness emanated from him； a black and bottomless lake hidden beneath a crust of thin ice。 How could Ruben seem so evil； even m a dream…kind； slow…talking Ruben？
Shem's lined face smiled cheerfully； but his words sounded strained。 〃I do not care。 I will do anything He wishes。 I ask little in return。〃
〃You ask a great deal more than any other mortal would；〃 Ruben replied。 〃Not only do you dare to call on the Red Hand； you have the temerity to demand favors。〃 He was chill and uncaring as graveyard dirt。 〃You do not even know what you ask。 You are a child； priest； and you grasp at gleaming things because they seem pretty。 You may cut yourself on something jagged and find that you bleed to death。〃
〃I don't care。〃 Shem spoke with a lunatic firmness。 〃I don't care。 Teach me the Words of Changing。 The Dark One owes me。。。 he is obligated 。。。〃
Ruben threw back his head in wild laughter。 A crown of flames seemed to blaze about his head。 〃Obligated？〃 he gasped。 The sound of his amusement was terrifying。 〃Our master？ To you？〃 He laughed again； and suddenly the blacksmith's skin began blistering。 Little gouts of smoke jetted into the air as Ruben's flesh burned away； peeling back to reveal a shifting kernel of flame beneath； pulsating with reddish light like a coal fanned by wind。 〃You will live to see His final triumph。 That is more reward than most mortals can expect！〃
〃Please！〃 Even as Ruben flared； Shem had begun to shrink； being small and gray as a charred parchment。 His tiny arm waved； crumbling。 〃Please； undying one； please。〃 His voice was oddly light； fraught with a kind of slyness。 〃I will ask nothing further…I will not speak of the Dark One again。 Forgive a mortal fool。 Teach me the Word！〃
Where Ruben had stood； a living flame glowed。 〃Very well； priest。 There is； perhaps； little risk in giving you this dangerous but final toy。 The Lord of All will be taking this world back soon enough…there is nothing you can do that He cannot make undone。 Very well。 I will teach you the Word； but the pain will be great。 No Change is without some cost。〃 Laughter bubbled again in the unearthly voice。 〃You will scream 。。。〃
〃I don't care！〃 Shem said； his ashy form swirling away now into darkness； as did the shadowed smith's and then the hayloft itself。 〃I don't care！ I must know！。。。〃 Finally； even the glowing thing that had been Ruben became only a bright point in the blackness 。。。 a star。 。 。 。
Simon awakened； breathless as a drowning man； his heart thudding in his chest。 There was a single star overhead； peeping through the hole in the top of their sleeping shelter like a blue…white eye。 He gasped。
Binabik lifted his head from Qantaqa's shaggy neck。 The troll was half…asleep； but struggling toward full wakefulness。 〃What is wrong； Simon？〃 he asked。 〃Were you having a dream that frightened？〃
Simon shook his head。 The tide of fear was ebbing a little； but he was sure it had been more than just a night fantasy。 It had seemed that an actual conversation was taking place nearby； a conversation that his sleeping mind had woven neatly into the stuff of his dream…a mundane happening that he had experienced many times。 What was strange and frightening was that there were no other speakers anywhere about： Sludig was snoring； Binabik obviously new…wakened。
〃It's nothing；〃 Simon said； struggling to speak evenly。 He crawled to the front of their lean…to； mindful of the bruises from the evening's stave…practice； and pushed his head out to look around。 The first star he had seen had a great deal of pany…a spatter of tiny white lights across the night sky。 The clouds had been driven away by the brisk wind； the night was clear and cold； and the unrelieved monotony of the White Waste stretched away on every side。 There was not another living thing to be seen anywhere beneath the ivory moon。
So it had only been a dream； a dream of how old Shem Horsegroom might speak with Pryrates' croaking tongue； and how Ruben the Bear might speak with the sepulchral tones of nothing on God's living earth。。。
〃Simon？〃 Binabik asked sleepily。 〃Are you。 。 。 ？〃
He was frightened； but if he was to be a man he could not run to cry on someone's shoulder every time he had a bad dream。 〃It's nothing。〃 He crawled shivering back to his cloak。 〃I'm well。〃
But it seemed so real。 The branches of their flimsy shelter creaked； wind…handled。 So real。 Like they were talking in my head 。 。 。
Taking the silver sparrow's fragmentary message to heart； they rode from first light to last every day； trying to outpace the ing storm。 Simon's mock…bats with Sludig now took place by firelight； so that he had scarcely a moment to spend alone from the moment he rose until he tumbled into exhausted sleep at the end of each day。 The days of riding passed in a procession of sameness： the endless； humped fields of white； the dark tangles of stunted trees； the numbing insistence of the wind。 Simon was grateful for his thickening beard： without it； he often thought； the relentless wind might rub away his face； down to the very bones。
It seemed that the wind had already worn away the face of the land； leaving behind little that was remarkable or distinct。 Had it not been for the widening line of forest on the horizon； he could have supposed that every morning found them back at the same cold； bleak starting place。 Thinking morosely about his own warm bed in the Hayholt； he decided that even if the Storm King himself were to move into the castle； his minions numerous as snowflakes； Simon could still live happily in the servant's quarters。 He wanted a home desperately。 He was close to the point where he would take a mattress in Hell if the Devil would lend him a pillow。
As days wore by； the storm continued to grow behind them； a black pillar rising ominously in the northwestern sky。 Great cloudy arms clutched at the firmament like the branches of a heaven…spanning tree。 Lightning flickered between them。
〃It's not moving very fast；〃 Simon said one day as they ate a sparse noontime meal。 There was more nervousness in his voice than he would have liked。
Binabik nodded。 〃It grows； but its spreading is slow。 That is something for being thankful about。〃 He wore an unusually dispirited expression。 〃The slower it is moving； the longer we are not beneath it…for I am thinking that when it es； it will bring a darkness with it that will not be passing away； as with storms of the ordinary type。〃
〃What do you mean？〃 Now the tremor was plain to hear。
〃It is not a storm with just snow and rain；〃 Binabik said carefully。 〃My thought is that it is exactly meant to bring fear where it goes。 It rises from Stormspike。 It has the look of something full of unnaturalness。〃 He raised his palms apologetically。 〃It is spreading； but as you said； not with great swiftness。〃
〃I do not know about such things；〃 Sludig said； 〃but I must admit I'm happy we will be off the Waste soon。 I wouldn't want to get caught in the open in any storm； and that one looks truly nasty。〃 He turned toward the south and squinted。 〃Two days until we reach Aldheorte；〃 he said。 〃That will be some protection。〃
Binabik sighed。 〃I hope you are right； but I am fearing that there will be no protection against this storm…or that the protection must be something other than forest trees