Finally their cautious approach brought them into sight of their goal.

The manor house rose like a small peak from the crest of what was, in fact, a full-sized mountain. A single tower of stone thrust high above the walls, and several peaked roofs were visible over the ramparts. Still, most of the structure was lost behind the steep barriers that enclosed the major portion of the mountaintop, giving the place the look of a small but formidable castle.

Danyal and his two companions looked up at the place from a neighboring ridge, and they immediately started to look for the best way to approach the place.

Only as they were discarding options and proposing others did the lad realize that a week earlier he would have been filled with despair at the prospect of approaching-not to mention entering!-such a fortress. Yet now the challenge simply reinforced his sense of grim determination, fanning the embers of hate that now burned steadily just below the surface of his awareness.

"That bridge looks like the only way to get up to the place," Danyal said, pointing to an arched span that crossed a steep-sided gully separating Loreloch's summit from a neighboring elevation.

The manor itself was a surrounded by smooth walls, though many small, rude cottages were clustered on the outside of the compound. Some of these were perched at the very edge of the precipitous slope, while others lined the narrow lane that led from the bridge to the front gates, currently shut, of the imposing edifice.

"Once we're across, we'll have to find some way other than the front gate to get inside there," Emilo noted.

"Maybe they left the scullery door open," Foryth suggested. When Danyal looked skeptical, he added an explanation. "It happened in the monastery all the time, even though the place was supposed to be locked up tight. A cook who's throwing out a full pot of scraps and garbage doesn't like to fuss with a lot of locks and latches."

"I guess that makes sense," Danyal admitted. "It'll be dark in an hour. Why don't we rest here awhile, then move in after sunset?"

The others agreed, and they waited for the seemingly interminable interval as the sun vanished over the horizon and the sky slowly faded toward black. Danyal's suggestion of rest, he realized, was wishful thinking; instead, he studied the mountaintop stronghold, looking for some weakness in what had clearly been designed to act as a small fortress. There were many windows, but they were all high in the stone walls. The only hopeful sign was that there seemed to be no guard posted at the bridge.

By the time full night had descended, Dan hadn't found anything else even remotely hopeful, but neither did he want to delay any longer. The trio started out by descending to the road, then held to the uphill edge of the narrow track, close beside a shallow ditch that just might offer them shelter if they needed to suddenly dive for cover. Still, they all knew their best chance lay in remaining undiscovered, so they concentrated on moving with stealth as well as speed.

It took a surprisingly long time to reach the bridge, and when they did, Danyal saw that the edifice of Lore-loch was even larger than it had appeared from across the valley. At least there was still no guard posted at the terminus of the span, nor had anyone bothered to plant any torches or lanterns outside the cluster of hovels and small, enclosed pens that huddled around the stonewalled manor.

Crouching beside one of the low walls flanking the bridge, the three companions moved cautiously onto the narrow, low-walled crossing. Danyal had never been so high above the ground as he was at the middle of the bridge, and he had to suppress a wave of dizziness when he looked over the rampart into the ravine below.

But then they were across, with the first of the rude shacks just a dash away and the bulk of the manor rising beyond. Most of the smaller buildings were dark and silent, though candles flickered in a few windows. Lights flared from many high windows on the manor wall, and sounds of shouting or raucous laughter occasionally wafted through the still air.

"It's almost midnight," Foryth said, after a look at the stars. "I wonder if things will quiet down in a little while."

Danyal didn't want to wait, but he had to admit that the place sounded terribly active right now. This was a stark contrast to his village, which had invariably settled into slumber within an hour of two after sunset. Still, he was about to suggest that they move closer when Emilo spoke in quiet agreement with the historian.

"Let's give it another hour or so. I'd suggest you two go around to the right. Maybe you can find that scullery door. I'll take the other side and see if there's something I can do along the lines of creating a diversion."

The intruders crept around the few ramshackle outbuildings near the end of the bridge, finding a small ledge below the line of sight from village and manor. Knowing they could wait here without fear of accidental discovery, they settled about making themselves comfortable while they stayed silent and low. Time ticked by interminably, but when they finally lifted their heads to regard the edifice, they saw that many of the torches had gone out. Listening carefully, they heard no further sounds of revelry.

"I'll wait for a while before I make a racket," Emilo said. "No sense in stirring things up too soon. But if it sounds like there's trouble, I'll try to lure them away from you."

"How?" Danyal asked, but his only reply was a noncommittal shrug from the kender.

Stealthily the youth led Foryth around the edge of the steep mountaintop. They heard sounds of loud snoring coming from one of the huts and made as wide a detour as possible around the place. It took them fifteen minutes to move beyond sight of the bridge, and Danyal felt terribly exposed, conscious of the vast gulf of space to his right and the looming bulk of the apparently impregnable manor rising to the left.

"Smells like we're getting close to the kitchen," Foryth noted. Danyal, too, had detected the odor of rotting garbage, though he hadn't made the same connection.

Sure enough, they saw the shadowy outline of a small doorway in the base of the manor's wall. Below the aperture was a steep section of the mountainside, where clearly the cooks simply threw out whatever leftover food and other waste made its way to the great house's kitchen. A noise of scurrying and chattering startled the intruders, and it didn't help them to relax when they realized that the sounds came from dozens of rats, who scraped and scrabbled over the rancid pile of refuse.

Danyal was starting to look around for some sign of a guard when Foryth walked boldly up to the door and reached for the latch. His heart pounding, Dan tensed, expecting an alarm or challenge.

Instead, the door opened with a soft creak, revealing a large room that was dimly lit by the glow of fading embers. Scuttling forward, the lad joined the historian in stepping hesitantly into the stronghold of Kelryn Dare-wind.

The kitchen smelled of soot and grease. In the dim light, they saw large counters, a great stack of pots, and a brick fireplace that held the still-glowing coals.

"Where would she be?" Foryth wondered. "It's a big house, after all."

"Kelryn told us he had a dungeon, remember? I think we should look on the lowest level we can find."

"Makes sense," the historian agreed. "Should we split up?"

Danyal shook his head firmly, and not just because he didn't want to be left alone in the place. "There's twice as much chance of us getting discovered if we're in two different places," he pointed out. Foryth nodded in apparent agreement.

The kitchen door was a massive barrier of iron-strapped oak, but the hinges were well oiled, and the door opened with barely a whisper of sound. They stepped onto a woolen carpet that lined a wide hallway, with several doors visible in the dark-paneled walls to either side. A pair of candles, each set in a wall sconce, provided wan illumination through the wide, high-ceilinged corridor.