The more she struggled, the less she could feel her own presence. She was drowning in night. As the formless, churning void clutched her, a slight sensation trickled back into her extremities. Some new force drew her, accelerating her through the nothingness. The silence was shattered by awful sounds that smashed at her eardrums, followed by a vague, grim hum that promised an unutterable fate. Screaming, she plunged toward a blot of even more concentrated void. Before Ususi could be pulled into the bizarre singularity, she saw a flicker of light. Like a flood victim finds temporary deliverance from the torrent by grasping a passing branch, Ususi caught herself by focusing on the glow. Within the glow was a woman who looked like Ususi. But the woman's eyes were empty, hollow orbits. It was her sister, Qari.

Qari reached out from the glow into the darkness where Ususi trod and said, "Take my hand, Sister. You shouldn't be so afraid of the dark, you know. Darkness is my constant companion. It doesn't terrify me.

I've learned to make a friend of it." Ususi strained toward the hand.

She struggled to rediscover her missing limbs. Or should she just will herself forward? She yelled, "Qari, where are we? What's going on?"

Qari swiveled her head so that the shocking emptiness of her missing eyes was indisputable. Qari said, "You need to embrace the darkness, as I have." So saying, she reached up with her other hand and pointed at the sunken, cavernous pits where eyes should have looked out. "No!"

Ususi screamed, and she woke. Sun streamed in through the edges of the small porthole. No storm of darkness thundered outside. She heard once more the yells of the crewmen as they went about their duties. Nothing but a dream… but the taper she'd lit before lying down was dead, its tiny glow snuffed.

Kiril Duskmourn's legs ached as if she'd ridden the stone destrier for days. Because she had.

Thormud insisted they always travel at night, avoiding villages and cities. They'd just passed a sizable town that Thormud had called Sezilinta. Normally, the fewer people Kiril saw, the better. And traveling in the dark usually suited her just fine, given her star elf heritage. But not tonight.

Tonight the sky was uncharacteristically heavy with clouds that veiled both moonlight and starlight. A constant spit of fine rain fell, slowly wetting every surface and penetrating every covering.

After just a quarter day's travel, Kiril's hair was matted with moisture, and water continually dripped into her eyes. Her sodden clothes were cold and clammy, even in the desert. She could hardly see more than a few yards ahead through the misty rain. And the stone seats that at first had seemed reasonably comfortable now worked at rubbing her skin raw. Plus, the seats were cold. Once, she mentally compared the seats to tombstones, then she couldn't banish the image.

She was more miserable than usual. And given her normal demeanor of low-grade irritability, that was a feat.

Worse yet, the old dwarf was in a talkative mood and kept badgering her with questions about her past. He should know enough not to pry, she thought. But maybe he was feeling the effects of the cold rain, too, if he was willing to rouse her ire by questioning her-and she'd given him clear signals that she'd rather be left alone. Was Thormud actually trying to get a rise out of her, just for some diversion on the long journey?

"So tell me again," Thormud asked Kiril from his seat ahead of her, "how old did you say your sword instructor was? Seven hundred?

That's old even for an elf, I hear."

Perversely, she decided not to give in to the geomancer's pestering with her usual stream of invectives. She merely grunted.

"And what about the human you were working for right before I employed you-he looked like he was ninety if he was a day. For humans, that's standing with one foot in the grave."

Kiril shrugged, knowing the dwarf couldn't see her. Her silence was answer enough. Another drop of water splashed into her left eye, and she roughly wiped it out.

"And me-I'm no dwarf lad in my first hundred. In fact, I'm probably in the last fifty years of my career."

"So?" Kiril finally asked.

"It's just that I wonder if you know anyone who isn't old."

Kiril grunted again. She said, "You know how I hate most people?"

"Yes…"

"I pick all my acquaintances old so they don't live long."

Thormud paused for a moment, then, "Ho ho! I've discovered my companion has secret aspirations to entertain, after all these years!

She's bitter, no doubt about it, but witty, too."

"Why don't we pass the time with you telling me about all the different layers of sediment below us, like usual?" asked Kiril. "That way, you get to yammer on and on about something you care about, and I get a nap."

"That's more like the elf I know."

Kiril restrained herself from reaching forward and throttling the dwarf's thick neck. Instead she said, "Let's rest. You said we might reach Adama's Tooth tonight. My muscles are all cramped with the cold.

I can protect you better if I can get the blood moving in my arms and legs again. If we face any more of the creatures like we fought a few nights ago…"

Thormud made several gravelly noises as if he were gargling pebbles. He was speaking Terran, commanding the stone destrier. The great creature's pace slackened to a trot, a walk, then ceased. It squatted down, allowing its riders easy egress.

Kiril stood and nearly slipped on the rain-soaked stone of the destrier's back. Thormud, despite his graceless manner, walked sure-footed off the destrier to the ground below. Anytime the geomancer walked on stone or earth, his footing was assured. He carried an earthlamp, whose normally warm glow was rendered pale and cheerless in the sleet. Xet rode on the dwarf's shoulder, unconcerned with the endless spray.

Thormud looked around the desolate landscape-what was visible through the mist-and said, "You broach an excellent point. That which faced us earlier was potent. I think it's time I call in a few favors for additional aid."

"Favors?"

"The elemental lords of the earth may hear my entreaty, and may respond with aid."

"Calling in the big swords, eh? Good idea."

The dwarf went about his preparations, which to Kiril looked identical to the preparations Thormud made before every geomantic endeavor. In other words, utterly monotonous. But what else was there to do?

First Thormud used the butt of his selenite rod to scratch an intricate circle into the earth. Then he poured colored powders into the four outer quadrants of the circle-red, blue, white, and brown-and finally black and white at the center, in a commingled pile. He had once told her that the powders represented the elements, but she had always believed only four elements built all of reality. Fearful of an overlong explanation, Kiril never asked why he used six colors.

Next the dwarf usually began mumbling in Terran. Not this time, Kiril noticed. Instead, he reached into his robe and brought forth a small package wrapped in leather. The package looked suspiciously familiar.

Kiril stopped her pacing and cleared her throat, trying to get the dwarf's attention. No luck-or he was ignoring her.

At the center of his circle, the dwarf unwrapped the package and revealed the purple crystal within. It was the remnant of the creature they had faced down a few nights ago.

"Thormud, you phlegm-brained flea haven, what are you doing with that?"

The dwarf, accustomed to Kiril's cursing, had the grace to look somewhat guilty as he said, "If I'm going to entreat the elemental lords of the earth for aid, I need to show them exactly the sort of threat I'm anticipating. Don't worry, I'm not going to…"