"Of course, Shikrar," she replied. Looking to Rella and Jamie, she said, "Have either of you any idea of how much farther there is to go?"

"Quite a long way," Rella said, and Jamie nodded. "I think I have a rough idea of where we are. Castle Gundar is hundreds of leagues northeast of here, through Mara's Pass—though if you are flying high enough, perhaps you won't need to worry about the pass. But I shouldn't think you could reach Castle Gundar before tomorrow in any case."

"Ah, but, Mistress Rella, you have not seen us at our best," said Alikirikh unexpectedly. It did my heart good to see her taking part in this. "We are still weary, but a night's rest will make a vast difference."

'Then let us be at it," said Shikrar. "Idai, will you wait for these heroes to break their fast? You have the best chance of catching me up."

T will," she replied, "though I recommend they break it quickly."

Aral and Vilkas ate faster.

"Then let us be gone," he said to Lanen and me. Gyrentikh gathered up Jamie and Rella, Alikirikh took Will and Maran—and we were aloft.

That day was years long. The morning was decent enough, clear weather and warmed by the sun, but clouds dark with rain rose before us ere noon. We stopped briefly just before the rain came on, to take some food and let the Lady Alikirikh catch her breath. I took the chance to take my blanket out of my pack and wrap it around me. For all that spring was now well along, it was bloody cold up there.

After we went back up, it rained almost constantly. Of course, Alikirikh sheltered us from much of it, but there was no escaping it all. After an hour we were soaked. When she remembered, she held us near her, and we warmed up and dried off a little—but it seemed not to be a natural position for any of them, and she often forgot.

Northeast, Rella had said. I didn't know if it was chance, but we seemed to be following the river. It had to be the Kai. I stared, delighted. I had always wanted to see the Kai, though I had to smile. I'd planned to be rather closer to it.

It would have cheered my heart to have passed the time with Maran, heard her story, maybe found out what she and Lanen had been yelling about, but the constant sound of the wind in our ears was all but deafening, and speech all but impossible.

Northeast. How any creature could tell directions in that downpour I know not, though of course the river lay below. And eastwards it must surely have been, for the hills rose steadily higher before us.

I sought the Black Dragon from the moment I took to the Winds that morning. We soon, to my sorrow, came upon it and the Dhrenagan together. Even as I approached, two of the Dhre-nagan broke off from the rest and flew straight towards the Black Dragon. I could see their comrades trying to dissuade them, but to no avail, and as I watched the Demonlord laughed and caught them, burned them until all they could do was to choose the Swift Death, cheating him of their souls but throwing their lives away to no purpose. I could not bear it. I did not care if Marik heard every word.

"Naikenna, can you do nothing?"

Her mindvoice was disconsolate. "And how would you stop one of your own who was determined on death, Shikrar?" she asked, soul-weary, heartsick. "They are the seventh and eighth of our people to choose their deaths in this fashion. Each is a soul I have known for many long winters, each was a link to a past that is else lost forever. By my soul, I assure you, I would stop them if I could."

"Can they not even await our Council this night?"

"Most can," she replied. "Those of us who slept can wait. Those of us who waked, even in part—ah, you cannot know. To taste blessed freedom at last, to breathe, to ride again on the Winds! Thus far we are in paradise, after long ages of torment undeserved. To see the founder of that torment so near, in a travesty of our own shape, and know that we cannot even now extract revenge—it is more than some can bear."

"I hear you, Lady," I answered sadly. "Can you at least convince them to keep out of its sight? Let it not know where we are or what we do."

"1 will try, Shikrar," she replied. I thought she had closed her mind to me, but—well, perhaps she was not shielding as tightly as she might. "Alas for Hyrishli and Orgalen," she mourned. "Hyr-ishli, soulfriend, heart's-sister, what darkness so overshadowed your soul? We are alive again, we are free, released from our torment at last. Was life so frightening after all these years? O Hyr-ishlianareli, my sister, sleep on the Winds, sleep soft and gentle where you are gone." Her mindvoice dropped to the merest whisper. "Hyrish, dear one, why could you not let me say farewell?"

I could not keep silence. Quietly, I bespoke her with the only words I had.

"May the Winds bear them up, where the sun is ever warm and bright.

We finished the Blessing for the Dead together. If Marik heard, much comfort may he take of it.

May their souls find rest in the heart of light.

I bespoke Kedra, for my heart ached for the sound of his voice. "Where are you, my son?"

"Far ahead and higher up," he replied shortly. "Fear not, my father."

It was enough.

We flew on. I would fain have joined Kedra and the others, but we four had to stay low for the sake of those we carried. We swiftly passed both Black Dragon and Dhrenagan and settled into a steady rhythm, following the river far below.

It came on to rain just after noon, and soon after we reached that place the Gedri call Mara's Pass. It is an excellent landmark for flight. It is not truly a pass, for the hills to the north and south fall away to flat ground for some leagues, but it is the only sensible place to cross that range of mountains if you cannot fly above.

I became more and more unsettled as we approached it. It looked—familiar. I could swear I knew the place, even to the extent of knowing that there were better updrafts on the northern side. I rose swiftly on the thermal, anticipating the jog to the left that I knew lay before me just past the highest point of the surrounding hills. I swooped away left, caught the rising air as though I had lived there all my life, and nearly dropped Lanen and Varien when I saw the vista before me. Their cries in my mind brought me back to myself, but all was changed.

There in the distance were the true East Mountains, of which these hills were mere outliers. They stood, snow-topped and menacing under the dark sky, looming at the edge of sight like a threat, and I realised between one breath and the next how I knew this place.

My Weh dreams.

Dreams that occur in the healing Weh sleep are important. The Weh sleep is our time of regeneration: the longer we live, the larger we become, and it is impossible to grow surrounded by armour. Thus, about every fifty winters the Weh comes upon us, with little or no notice—perhaps a day, perhaps a few hours—and we have no choice but to find a safe place and go to sleep. It is the only time that we are vulnerable to the Gedri, when our old armour becomes brittle and falls away and the new armour underneath has not yet had time to harden. It can take up to six moons for one my age to rouse from the Weh sleep. In most cases we do not dream, or do not remember it if we do, but sometimes a dream will come to haunt us. If it comes more than once, we consider it worth paying attention to.

I had dreamed of this place four times, over the space of three hundred and fifty winters. I knew the way to Castle Gundar from here, I knew what it would look like and what surrounded it.

And I knew now, to my sorrow, that my destiny awaited me there.

The rain lightened and gave way to clear skies just before the sun began to set. The high mountains before us began to glow in the golden light as we drew nearer, and the wind changed, blowing now from those distant heights. The air was cold and clear and bracing. I took a breath like a faceful of snow and was revived.