This was a display of concentration and foresight rare among kender in their journeying years, and most humans would have been surprised or even frightened by it. But then, most humans had never seriously hurt a kender (not for want of trying), let alone killed one. They had never known a kender to want revenge, to repay them for a compatriot's death.

The two kender watched as the column marched toward the pass. They had a good view of the approaching men, but Elderdrake wanted a better one.

"If I can count them, maybe we can tell somebody who's also an enemy of Zephros."

"Who would that be?"

"Oh, a man like him has to have all sorts of enemies."

"But do we know any of them?"

"You're no fun, Imsaffor. You spent too much time with that confounded minotaur."

"Don't you dare insult Waydol to my face!"

"Very well, then I'll talk behind your back."

"You've got a big wind for a kender on his first journey."

"At least I didn't stop for years in the middle of a journey!"

At this point Imsaffor Whistletrot turned so many different bright colors (kender can turn more than red, when they put their minds to it) that Elderdrake was afraid. He hurried out of Whistletrot's reach, then uncoiled a long rope from around his waist.

His plan was simple. He would tie one end of the rope around one of the pinnacles, leaving the other end tied around his waist. Then he would lower himself down the cliff, to where he could count Zephros's men, maybe even their weapons. He might even be lucky enough to overhear something they said.

The rope would keep him from falling all the way down, and let Whistletrot help pull him back up again. (If Whistletrot wasn't angry enough to leave him dangling, but that didn't worry Elderdrake. It takes a good deal to worry a young kender on his first journey, and besides, kender are very strong for their size, and Elderdrake was large for a kender.) The only thing Elderdrake overlooked was a crack in the base of the pinnacle he used for his rope. Perhaps not quite the only thing-he also overlooked a patch of loose scree some fifty paces down the cliff.

The moment he put his foot on the scree, he slipped and began to slide. The slide turned into a fall as the cliff steepened. His shout warned both his friend above and the humans below-just as his weight came on the rope.

The crack in the pinnacle was so placed that the wind did not enlarge it. Elderdrake's weight, however, exerted strain from the opposite direction. The rock groaned as the crack widened. The pinnacle swayed, then split off along the line of the crack.

"Oops," Imsaffor Whistletrot said.

Now, when a kender with human companions says this, the humans normally shake in their boots, or else put them to the ground and run as fast as possible. It is not well known that kender will say that to one another. That can upset even a kender.

Both kender, however, were too busy to be upset. Elderdrake was trying to stop his fall without stopping in the path of the pinnacle. Whistletrot was trying to hook his friend's rope with his own whippik, also without leaving him in the way of all the falling rock.

The pinnacle took care of the matter itself. It jerked Elderdrake's rope across the base of another pinnacle. The rope wound itself firmly around the second pinnacle-then snapped as the first pinnacle continued its downward plunge.

Imsaffor Whistletrot had just time to grab his friend's rope and cut it loose before the second pinnacle was hit by a third, dislodged by the fall of the first. Nor were those three pinnacles the last to go.

As the two kender watched, the entire face of the cliff and all the pinnacles on it split, crumbled, and fell into the mouth of the pass with a noise like the return of Chaos and enough dust to hide the whole city of Istar. Thousands of tons of rock poured like a waterfall onto the trail.

Like a waterfall, too, the rock splashed. A wave of boulders, each the size of a kender hut or larger, roared across the valley and struck the base of the cliffs on the other side. The hammer blow was too much for the fissured base of the cliffs. Like a curtain whose rod has pulled loose from the wall, the other cliffs also fell.

The two kender tried hard to see how much damage the falling rock did to Zephros's men. But so much dust billowed up, they might as well have been trying to spy on the Dargonesti, a hundred fathoms below the waves.

Long after the crash, clatter, and rumble of falling rock had mostly died away, the dust remained suspended in the still air of the desert afternoon. By the time a breeze rose to thin out the dust, Zephros's men were far out on the desert. It looked as if they were running, and the two kender half hoped they would run themselves to death.

That was about the best the men could hope for, too. The two falling cliffs had completely blocked the mouth of the pass with a pile of rock easier to fly over than climb. Nobody was going to be taking an army through this pass for a good many years, and neither kender intended to wait here that long.

"I suppose we can still go to Belkuthas," Elderdrake said. He sounded rather subdued. He was also short of breath, and his ribs and stomach were aching where the rope had tightened around them.

"What for, you son-of-a-gnome?" Whistletrot snapped. Then he had a fit of coughing that kept him speechless, if not silent, for quite a while. There was still a lot of dust in the air.

"I am not a gnome," Elderdrake finally said with dignity. "This is my first journey. I've never been in desert before, and anyway, if I could have seen that crack, so could you."

"It was on your side of the pinnacle, and I wasn't foolish enough to go down on the cliff in the first place."

"Who was foolish? I knocked down more rocks than all the dwarves in this land ever did."

"Yes, and you wasted them all because they didn't fall on Zephros's men!"

"Well, maybe I wasted them and maybe I didn't. We don't know how many of Zephros's men tripped over their own feet or choked on the dust!"

"No, and we never will, unless they come back or we climb over that pile of rocks and go after them."

"That's why I think we ought to go to Belkuthas. Besides, Hallie Pinesweet said she was going to stop there. Maybe she is still-"

"Hallie Pinesweet never thought you were worth a bag of dried nuts."

"I'm older now."

"Five years. You think she'll have sat waiting for you at Belkuthas for that long? Your brains are dried nuts, too!"

"Well, I'm going to Belkuthas. If we can't catch Zephros ourselves, maybe we should ask for help from some people who can. I think Hallie said there were humans who kept horses at Belkuthas, or maybe it was centaurs who lived in the forest-"

Imsaffor Whistletrot threw up his hands in disgust and despair. It was either go to Belkuthas with Elderdrake or go somewhere else alone, and he wasn't quite curious enough about this land to roam it alone.

Besides, once Elderdrake saw that Hallie Pinesweet was long gone on her way, he would stop thinking Belkuthas was so wonderful. Then they could go on their way-and, Whistletrot hoped, homeward as soon as possible.

He had much more traveling to do. Elderdrake was right; he had spent too long with Waydol. A kender as young as he was shouldn't remain in one place. But he would rather live among gully dwarves than travel with a kender who behaved like a gnome-and then boasted about it!

Listening to the little council's plan, Redthorn and Skytoucher displayed an elaborate courtesy that, to Pirvan, smelled of impatience to end the rituals and mount up. He hoped so. The Gryphons, by his own lowest estimate, could put a thousand armed riders on the march. With such a force standing before Belkuthas, it would be safe not only from Zephros but from any force than Aurhinius himself could field without warning.

"We cannot send more than a hundred fighters," Redthorn said at last.

Skytoucher nodded. "You may be the changebringer, Sir Pirvan, or you may be merely one who comes before the changebringer, whom we must prepare to meet. Also, it does not take the whole strength of the Gryphons to carry a warning to anyone, let alone to folk the Silvanesti would not thank us for warning."

Pirvan had rude thoughts about what the Silvanesti could do with their thanks, starting with putting it on the points of their arrows and going on from there in painful and grotesque ways. Outwardly, he kept the self-command of a Knight of Solamnia and bowed.

"I see both wisdom and honor in this. I ask only one question. Who commands?"

All four Free Riders-father, sons, and seer-looked at one another. Then Skytoucher spoke.

"We shall be two to your one, so Threehands will lead when he is present. When he is not, you shall. Your folk as well as ours will swear oath to obey either commander as they would their own fathers."

Unless the Free Riders took oaths far more lightly than Pirvan guessed, that would be enough. The Gryphons knew this land, anyway, and were friends with half the other clans, which was better than none.

Also, Threehands might keep Hawkbrother busy enough to stay away from Eskaia. Pirvan realized this was doubtless wishful thinking in the tradition of centuries of fathers before him. Even so, he could not keep the wish from his thoughts any more than all those other fathers!

Chapter 8.

Word of the advance-Krythis refused to use the word "onrush"-of Zephros's motley column reached Belkuthas about the same time it reached Pirvan and the Gryphons. Krythis and Tulia kept no scouts in the desert. They did keep as friends some of the desert clans, both Free Riders and the root-grubbers who burrowed into cliff faces and hillsides.

It was the tale of a scout from the Treecat clan that reached Belkuthas first, passed on through several dwarves. (Indeed, it was said that dwarven tunnels so honeycombed the land that one could walk all the way from Belkuthas far into Thoradin, if one could find the right entrance, and the dwarves allowed it.) For this, Krythis and Tulia did not mind being awakened from the deepest and most pleasant sort of slumber. That is, they did not mind once they were awake enough to understand what the tidings meant.

"They may not be marching against us," Tulia said. It was a painfully transparent effort to reassure herself.

"I can well believe that, for now," Krythis replied. "But they will be marching upon us before long. Where one like Zephros marches, people flee. When people flee, those like Zephros pursue-like a dog roused to give chase by his prey's flight.

"Many will surely come here. We have labored for half a human lifetime to make this a place of peace and a refuge for all. In this time of trouble, many will remember that and come here. Zephros will follow."

Tulia looked at the ground. "He will come here, and he will see humans and all other folk living in peace. If he is one of those sworn to destroy that harmony ..."

She could not command her voice well enough to finish. To Krythis, taking her in his arms seemed a sadly inadequate gesture. It was the best he could do, however, for he was none too sure of his voice either.

At last they stepped apart, and as if at a command both turned to look outward from the tower, at their citadel. As a home filled with memories, the sight of it warmed. As a fortress to withstand even the most inept siege, the sight chilled.

There had been a fortress on this site since the days of the Empire of Ergoth, long before Vinas Solamnus's birth. It was likely that the site had been inhabited even before then.

Indeed, a dwarven friend of Krythis, one Gran Axesharp, had walked about Belkuthas, examining all the stonework, then turned to his host and said: "Let me take this place down stone by stone some day, when you no longer need it. I swear to find signs of at least three completely unknown races somewhere about here."

Antiquity was all very well, and Krythis and Tulia, being folk at peace with themselves and the world, were also at peace with the odd ghost that Belkuthas harbored. It was not so good to make a home in what had been a place for war.

Much work had been needed to restore those buildings they wished to keep and shore up or tear down the rest. The restored buildings would need to keep out the chill of winter, the heat of the sun, the wind, the rain, thieves, and wild animals. The other buildings needed not to fall down on their heads, or the heads of their servants, guards, visitors, or children, or even the nesting birds, squirrels, and mice.

So the keep rose tall and dark, looming over the old Great Hall, where in a maze of newly built rooms Krythis and Tulia actually lived. The keep served well enough as a watchtower and storeroom, but no one had thought of defending it since before Rynthala's birth.

It was much the same case elsewhere. Some outbuildings housed servants, guests, or horses. Others were only fenced holes in the ground. Parts of the wall rose as high and stout as ever. In other parts gaped holes through which six minotaurs could have marched shoulder to shoulder.

"We'll have to ask people to bring their own food, as much as possible," Krythis said. "We can store it, but we can't divide our own supplies among a thousand mouths. We will also have to buy from our neighbors. I will pray for the crops to be in and abundant, before enemies or fugitives arrive."

"Can Sirbones do anything to help?" Tulia asked.

"I suspect not even Sirbones himself knows what he can do," Krythis replied. "The gods, maybe. Any lesser being, I doubt. It cannot hurt to ask. But remember he is not a young man. Healing spells take much from a priest-and he will be casting far too many of those."

"So the magic, like the food, may not be enough to go around, and we will watch, helpless, while people die?" Tulia said. It was hardly a question, and any urge Krythis had to console his wife vanished as she slammed one fist hard against the battlement.

In that moment she reminded Krythis very much of their daughter in a rage. In the next moment Krythis wondered if there was any place they could send Rynthala, to keep her safe.

In the moment after that, he was ready to laugh at himself for the absurd notion. If war washed over this land, there might be no safe place. There was probably no place they could send Rynthala that could keep her if she did not wish to stay. And there was little chance they could make her leave in the first place.

By then Tulia was sucking her scraped knuckles and looking ready to both laugh and cry at once.

Now, Krythis decided, it was time to embrace her-closely and for a long time, before they went downstairs to begin preparing Belkuthas for war.

To Pirvan's left, Nedilhome Canyon slashed into the hills, now splotched with green over the desert hues of umber and ocher. To his right, Haimya and Threehands rode silhouetted against a long, gentle slope of savagely scarred and nearly barren rock.

"The canyon's the most common road for traders," Threehands said. "Water, caves for the night, fodder you can cut from atop the cliffs if you're man enough to climb them. But of course, traders seldom come this way, or if they do, seldom last this far."

"I was hardly thinking of using-" Pirvan began, when a raised hand from an outrider ahead stopped all conversation. The man turned his horse and rode back.

"Somebody's been by here, my chief," he said.

"Chiefs," Threehands said. "We are two. Now speak. Mounted or afoot?"

The man spoke with the same brevity as Threehands. Men in boots leading mostly new-shod horses with moderate loads. The track angled in from the right-from the northeast-and now ran parallel to the line of the Gryphons' and knights' advance.

"Zephros," Threehands muttered.

"I hope so," Pirvan replied. He hated to think of any more armed bands, Istarians, sell-swords, bandits, or others, wandering about this land. Tempers were high enough already, and any slight mischance could mean a horrid death toll.

Threehands was already signaling the men into battle order. A Gryphon band of this size fought in three triangles, each with the base toward the enemy and the point toward the rear. Pirvan's fighters formed the leftmost triangle, normally the least honorable.

Today the left flank was toward the hills, from which surprise attacks would most likely come. Threehands could hardly intend insult. Pirvan would also refuse to take it, regardless of the Gryphon's intention.

They rode on, now in battle formation. Nedilhome Canyon slowly fell behind. Pirvan let his horse drift right, until he rode beside Threehands.

"What are your plans?"

"Need you ask?"

"You do plan to attack, then?"

"If it is any of your-no, you are chief, likewise. It is your concern. They are on our land, without our leave, and you speak ill of them. I trust your judgment. Is that not enough reason for attacking?"

Pirvan was silent a trifle too long. To do him justice, Threehands only frowned. He did not glare, let alone curse.

"What cause must knights have before they can draw sword?" he asked. "They certainly found enough when Istar commanded them to fight us. Has not Zephros given at least as much offense?"

Pirvan knew he did not dare reply with silence a second time. He also did not dare tell the truth, which was that at the command of Istar, the knights did not recognize the land rights of the Free Riders. It was expedient to leave them in peace, but if an Istarian chose not to do so, that was between him and the desert-dwellers.

Which left Pirvan squarely in the middle.

"Zephros is a man of hasty temper," Pirvan said. "If he has not broken the peace yet, he will surely do so before we are much older. But until he does, he is not a lawful foe for the knights."

"Who still suck from the paps of the kingpriest," Threehands said, but so quietly that only his bitterness reached Pirvan. The knight had no easy answer to that, so they rode on in silence.

The pen wall across the forecourt of Belkuthas now rose to the height of a man's waist. That would not keep in horses, but would do well for most other beasts. It would also keep either horse or foot from coming at archers behind it.