'Allah, the Merciful, be praised!' exclaimed Halhuli, rushing up. 'You are awake, my lord.'

'Bring me my clothes. We are going home.'

'At once, my lord,' he said, and hurried away.

Cait called for Rognvald, who returned a moment later to find Prince Hasan drawing on the clothes Halhuli held out for him. 'He tells us he feels well enough to ride,' Cait said. 'Do you think it wise?'

Rognvald squatted down and regarded the prince. 'I have no wisdom in the matter,' he answered at last. 'If a man feels he is able to ride, who can say otherwise?'

'Precisely,' agreed the prince. Indicating the wounded Paulo's tent, he said, 'Your man needs warmth and care, which he will not receive on the trail. If we leave now, we can reach the palace before dark.'

'That would be best in any case,' Rognvald conceded. 'We will make the journey as easy as possible.' He stood and called to the knights to prepare the sling for Paulo and ready the prince's horse. 'Those of us who are ready will leave at once-the rest can come after and catch up on the way.'

'No, my friend,' Hasan objected. 'Your destination is within sight. I will not allow you to abandon the search now. Halhuli and my servants will attend me. The rest of you must go on.'

Cait hesitated. While she had no great hankering to resume the search, the thought of going back to Al-Jelal only to take up the trail another day filled her with an even greater dread. 'But what if something should happen on the way?' she protested mildly.

'Listen to me, Ketmia,' the prince replied. 'At all events, we would be forced to return to the palace in a day or two for supplies. Take the provisions and go on ahead.'

'He is right,' Rognvald concluded. 'If Abu was not mistaken, we are closer now than ever before. We dare not allow this chance to slip away-we may not get another.'

'Paulo and I will rejoin you in a few days when we have rested and our wounds have healed.'

'Unless we find Alethea first,' Rognvald put in.

'Of course!' declared Hasan. 'You see? Find Alethea and bring her to the palace.'

'Very well,' Cait relented.

Thus it was agreed. The final preparations were quickly made; despite his feeble protests, Paulo was placed in the sling, and the prince, holding himself like a man who feared one false step would shatter his legs, walked to his mount. With Rognvald on one side and his faithful katib on the other, Hasan climbed into the saddle. 'I will see you in a few days,' he called as they started off. 'Farewell, my friends.'

Cait and the others watched until the prince and his entourage were out of sight. 'Do not worry, my lady,' said Yngvar, trying to comfort her. 'They will reach the palace, never fear.'

'Aye,' said Svein, 'providing they do not meet up with any of your wolves.'

The wind grew colder as the day wore on. They spent much of the morning skirting Ali Waqqar's valley lair, and stopped to break fast once they had put the valley behind them. While they were eating, it began to snow. The mountain Abu had indicated lay directly ahead-no more than a half-day's ride by their best estimation-so they pressed on.

The snow persisted through the day, drifting down through the tall pines in great, silent feathery clumps, concealing both the path and the mountain before them in a soft layer of white, and covering the heads and shoulders of the knights, and the rumps of their horses. But they rode on, climbing higher and higher into the gently swirling curtain of flakes.

Yngvar was leading the way when Cait saw him stop at the crest of the hill. She lifted the reins and urged her mount to a trot, and came abreast of him. The slope of the hill dropped away to form a the rim of a bowl-shaped valley. There below them, in the centre of the bowl, lay a lake, its surface smooth and dark as polished jet. At the far side of the valley rose the mountain, not golden now, but brooding and dark, its top obscured by the clouds, its lower slopes covered with a dense forest of pine-each bough of every tree now bending beneath the heavy weight of snow.

'This is the place,' said Cait, hardly daring to speak aloud for fear that it would vanish mysteriously, leaving them no closer than before.

'Maybe we will not have to sleep in tents tonight,' Yngvar said, pointing away across the valley to the far side of the lake.

Cait looked where he indicated and saw a cluster of buildings and a few enclosures for cattle-little more than a smoke-grey smudge in a field of white. She turned and called behind her to Rognvald and the others who were just coming up to the crest of the hill. 'There is a settlement!'

Without waiting for the others, Cait started down into the valley, keeping her eye on the tiny village which was already fading into the gloom of twilight. She had reached the side of the lake and started around when Rognvald caught her. 'Do you think Alethea is there?'

'I pray she is,' Cait replied. 'But I hardly dare believe it might be true.'

'Then I will believe it for both of us,' replied Rognvald.

'Do you never grow tired?' she asked.

'Tired of the trail?'

'Tired of the search-the endless riding and riding, always searching, never finding. The futility of it all… I am weary to the bone with it and I would to God it were over. One way or another, I wish it would just end.' She looked at his face, a pale softness in the winter gloaming, unmoved by her sudden outpouring of despair. 'I suppose now you despise me for being a weak and flighty woman.'

'My lady,' he said, his voice low. He did not turn his eyes from the snow-covered trail ahead. 'You are the most stalwart woman I know.'

That was all he said, and they spoke no more. But it gave Cait a warm feeling that lasted long into the night.

It was dark and the snow was deep by the time they reached the settlement. If not for the faint glow of light from the windows of several of the houses, they would have been lost in the snowy void of night. Rognvald halted a few dozen paces from the nearest dwelling: a low hovel built of turf and timber and thatched with tight-bundled reeds from the lake.

There was a small window covered with oiled sheepskin and set deep under the drooping eaves. A fine ruddy glow showed in the window and under the edge of the rough door. 'It is a cow-byre,' said Dag, regarding the rustic house. 'But there is a fire, at least.' The others remarked that they did not care if it was a hole in the ground so long as it was a dry hole.

'Let us see if they are of a mind to receive us,' said Cait, and Rognvald dismounted and walked to the house. He stooped to the door and rapped on the planking. He waited, rapped again, and called out.

When nothing happened, he pulled the leather strap which lifted the wooden latch, pushed open the door, and looked inside. Warm golden light spilled out on to the snow, making the new whiteness glisten like fine samite.

'There is no one here,' he reported to the others who sat looking on.

'Do you think they saw us coming and have gone into hiding?' said Yngvar.

'He would be a blind man who saw you coming and did not hide,' replied Svein.

'Listen,' said Rognvald, holding up his hand for silence.

From somewhere in the village there came the distant, bell-like sound of voices lifted in song. The words seemed to come drifting down out of the sky with the falling snow-as if angels were singing, the notes clear and ringing in the softly silent air. Cait listened to the slow, majestic strains and her breath caught in her throat: it was a song she had sung at home in Caithness every Yuletide since she was old enough to remember the words.

The realization brought tears to her eyes; before she knew it they were running freely down her cheeks. Here, she thought, in this place. How could it be? Quickly, lest the others see her, she rubbed them away with the backs of her hands.