She squirmed around in the hood of his cloak as he started out. Then she got settled in and purred herself back to sleep.

She woke up rather abruptly, however, when Althalus nudged his new horse into a loping canter. I suppose I should have guessed, she murmured.

"We are on a sort of sacred mission, aren't we, Em?" he replied with a tone of high-minded justification. "We're going out to save the world. It's only right and proper that the people along the way should lend a hand, isn't it?"

'You'll never change, will you, Althalus?'

"Probably not, no. Go back to sleep, Em. I've got everything under control now."

Once they were mounted, they made good time, and they crossed out of Kagwher into the vast forest of Hule a couple of days after Althalus had acquired the horse.

There were villages here and there in the deep wood of Hule now, and that offended Althalus. Hule was supposed to be wild, but now grubby little men had come here to contaminate it. The villages were squalid-looking collections of rude huts squatting on muddy ground and surrounded by garbage. They weren't much to look at, but what really offended Althalus were the tree stumps. These wretched intruders were cutting down trees. "Civilization," he muttered in tones of deepest contempt.

'What?' Emmy asked.

"They're cutting down trees, Em."

'Men do that, pet.'

"Little men, you mean. Men who are afraid of the dark and invent ways to talk about wolves without actually saying the word 'wolf.' Let's get out of here. The sight of that trash heap makes me sick."

They passed a few other villages on their way south, and the opinion he'd formed about the people who lived in those villages didn't improve very much.

His humor began to improve as they rode up into the foothills of Arum. He was fairly certain that no matter how civilized man became, it was highly unlikely that they'd come up with a way to chop down mountains.

They rode some distance up into the foothills, and on the second day, as evening settled over the mountains, Althalus rode back from the narrow track a ways and set up their night's camp in a small clearing.

'Could we have fish tonight, pet?' Emmy asked once he had their fire going.

"I was sort of thinking about beef."

'We had beef last night.'

He was about to say something, but suddenly laughed instead.

'What's so funny?'

"Haven't we had this conversation before? It seems that I can remember long talks about having the same thing six or eight days in a row."

'That was different.'

"I'm sure it was." He gave in. "All right, dear, if you want fish, we'll have fish."

She began to purr in happy anticipation.

Althalus slept well that night, but just before dawn he awoke quite suddenly as some almost forgotten instinct warned him of approaching danger. "Somebody's coming, Em." He jarred her awake with the urgent thought.

Her green eyes opened immediately, and he felt her send out a searching thought. Then she hissed.

"What's the matter?" he demanded.

'Pekhal! Be careful, Althalus. He's very dangerous.'

"Didn't you tell me that he's one of Ghend's people?"

'Ghend's animal would come closer. There isn't much humanity left in Pekhal. I'm sure he'll try to kill you.'

"Lots of people have tried that, Em." He rolled out from under his cloak, reaching for his bronze-tipped spear.

'Don't try to fight him, Althalus. He's a total savage and very vicious. He'll try to talk his way in close enough to reach you with his sword. I'd imagine that he's looking for breakfast along about now.'

"He eats people?" Althalus exclaimed.

'That's one of his nicer habits.'

"I think I remember a way to make him keep his distance," Althalus said with a bleak sort of grin.

There was a crashing sound back in the undergrowth, and Althalus slipped behind a tree to watch.

The man was huge, and his face was almost subhumanly brutish. He was bulling his way through the bushes, and he was swinging a large sword that obviously wasn't made of bronze. "Where are you?" he roared in a hoarse, animal-like voice.

"I'm more or less here," Althalus replied. "I don't think you need to come any closer."

"Show yourself!"

"Why would I want to do that?"

"I want to see you!"

"I'm not really all that attractive."

"Show yourself!" the beast roared again.

"If you say so, neighbor," Althalus replied mildly. He stepped out from behind the tree, looking intently at the heavily armed savage. Then he said, "dheu."

The brute rose up off the ground with a startled oath.

"Just a precaution, friend," Althalus explained urbanely. "You seem a bit bad-tempered this morning-somebody you ate, no doubt."

"Put me down!"

"No, I don't think we'll do it that way. You're fine just where you are."

The grotesque brute began swinging his sword at the air around him as if trying to slash at whatever was holding him suspended.

"You don't mind if I have a look at that, do you?" Althalus asked. Then he held out his hand and said, "gwem!"

The huge sword spun out of the giant's hand and then drifted obediently down to Althalus. "Very impressive," Althalus said, hefting the heavy weapon.

"You give that back!"

"No. Sorry. You don't really need it." Althalus stuck the heavy sword into the ground and then neatly filched the brute's dagger and purse from his belt as well.

Pekhal began roaring, his face contorted with savage fury.

Althalus lifted his hand. "Dheu," he said again.

Pekhal rose about another twenty feet into the air. His face blanched, his eyes went very wide, and he stopped moving entirely.

"How's the view from up there?" Althalus was beginning to enjoy this. "Would you like to take a look at things from a few miles higher up? I can fix that, if you wish."

Pekhal gaped at him, his eyes filled with sudden terror.

"Do we understand each other, friend?" Althalus asked. "Now, then, the next time you see Ghend, give him my regards and tell him to quit playing around like this. I don't work for him anymore, so he has no claim on me." Althalus picked up his new purse and dagger. He tucked the purse in his pocket, pulled his new sword out of the turf, and tapped its heavy blade with the hilt of the dagger. It made a ringing sound. Then he tested the sword edge with his thumb. It seemed much sharper than his bronze sword. "Very nice," he murmured. Then he looked up at Pekhal. "I certainly want to thank you for the gifts, friend," he said pleasantly. "All I have to give you in return are my old weapons, but since you're so much nobler than I am, I'm sure you won't mind." He stowed away his bronze weapons. "We'll have to do this again one of these days," he called. "You have yourself a very nice day now, hear?"

'Are you just going to leave him up there?' Emmy asked critically.

"Oh, I'd imagine he'll set along about the same time the sun does, Em. If he doesn't come down today, he probably will tomorrow-or the next day. Why don't we have a bite of breakfast and move on?"

She was trying to stifle her laughter without too much success. 'You're awful!'

"Fun, though, don't you think? Is that half-wit the best that Ghend can come up with?"

'Pekhal's the one Ghend summons when brute strength and savagery seem to be called for. The others are much more dangerous.'

"Good. This might get kind of boring otherwise." He looked closely at his new dagger. "What is this metal?" he asked.

'People call it steel,' she replied. 'They learned how to forge it about a thousand years ago.'

"I was a little busy just then. That's probably why I missed it. Where does this metal come from?"

'You've seen all those red rocks in Plakand, haven't you?'

"Oh, yes. Plakand's red from one end to the other."

'There's a metal called iron in those rocks. Men couldn't smelt it out of those rocks until they learned how to make hotter fires. Iron is harder than bronze, but it's brittle. It has to be mixed with other metals to make weapons or tools.'

"It's completely replaced bronze, then?"

'For most things, yes.'

"It might be better than bronze, but it's not as pretty. This grey's sort of depressing."

'What on earth has that got to do with anything?'

"It's a question of aesthetics, Em. We should always strive to fill our lives with beauty."

'I don't see anything beautiful in something that was designed to kill people.'

"There's beauty in everything, Em. You just have to learn to look for it."

'If you're going to preach at me, I think I'll just curl up and go back to sleep.'

"Whatever you wish, Em. Oh, before you doze off, though, do you happen to know which clan here in Arum has that knife we're looking for? If I'm going to have to search every man in these mountains for it, we could be here for quite a while."

'I know where it is, pet, and you've been there before. You're even rather famous in the clan that has the Knife.'

"Me? I try to avoid fame whenever I can."

'I wonder why. You do remember the way to the hall of Gosti Big Belly, don't you?'

"Is that where the knife is?"

'Yes. The current Clan Chief has it. He doesn't know how he came by it or how important it is, so he keeps it in the room where all his spare weapons are.'

"Is that a coincidence of some sort? I mean, that the knife's in Gosti's hall?"

'Probably not.'

"Would you care to explain that?"

'I don't think so. The word "coincidence" always seems to start religious arguments for some reason.'

For the next several days, they traveled along the ridgeline Althalus had followed to make good his escape from Gosti, and they finally reached the high pass that overlooked the canyon where Gosti's hall had stood. The rough log fort had been replaced by a large stone castle. The rickety toll bridge that had been the source of Gosti's meager wealth was gone, and the bridge that now spanned the rushing stream was a structure of stone arches. Althalus turned his horse off the trail and rode back into the trees.

'Aren't we going down?' Emmy asked.

"It's almost evening, Em. Let's wait and go down in the morning."

'Why?'

"My instincts tell me to wait, all right?"

'Oh, well,' she replied with exaggerated sarcasm. 'We must obey our instincts, mustn't we?'

"Be nice," he murmured. Then he dismounted and went over to the edge of the trees to look at the settlement outside the castle. Something struck him as peculiar. "Why are the men all wearing dresses?" he asked.

'They call them kilts, Althalus.'

"A dress is a dress, Em. What's wrong with leggings like mine?"

'They prefer kilts. Don't be picking any fights with them about their clothing. Keep your opinions to yourself.'

"Yes, ma'am," he replied. "You'll want fish for dinner again, I suppose?"

'If it's not too much trouble.'