Riv snorted and turned away from the water to stand looking at her calmly, as if to say, “You may drink-I will keep watch.” Esme knelt in the long grass, cupped her hands and brought the clear water to her mouth. When she had finished, she led Riv to a patch of wild clover and let him eat his fill. She did not bother to tether him, knowing that a horse as well-trained as Riv would not abandon his rider to wander off.

She left the horse to crop the clover and turned her attention to the hill nearby. It presented to her the highest vantage for viewing her surroundings. Having left the fray at the ravine with little more thought than to come away with her skin, she had almost no idea where she might be. As much as possible she had tried to hold to the direction whereby they had entered the ravine in the first place, her object being to regain the road they had been following. Once on the road she would turn north and then hurry to Askelon.

Esme climbed the steep slope of the hill as it rose out of the vale and above the trees. Out of the shade, the air was warmer and alive with bees and butterflies beginning their daily chores. A fresh wind blew ruffles along the tall grass; the sky billowed bright and blue, unconcerned with the darker deeds of night and desperate men. Here she could almost forget what had passed just a few hours earlier.

But she could not forget the two gallant men who had so courageously flown to the aid of the helpless townspeople and who had, without question, offered her protection as well. As she reached the crown of the hill she turned her eyes back toward Diem, now leagues behind her. There was nothing to be seen; not even a smudge of smoke on the horizon remained to mark the place.

For a moment she stood in indecision-should she return and try to discover what had become of her friends? Or go on, to complete her charge and deliver her message to the King?

It was an empty choice, she knew. The enemy which had overcome them in the ravine at Diem was the same which had surprised her and her companions on the road. Now the lives of two more had been added to the sum, for there was little doubt in her mind that by now Quentin and Toli were dead. And were it not for the importance of her mission she would have stayed to share their fate.

There was nothing to be done but to go on.

She gazed out over the land, her dark eyes sweeping the horizon for any recognizable landmark. Away to the south she saw a thin slice of spangled blue which merged with the sky. The sea, she thought, I have not gone far wrong. By squinting up her eyes she could almost see the road itself as it hugged the coastal hills. She cast one last look over her shoulder to see if the dark enemy had followed her, but saw nothing except the radiant sky and the hills of summer. So she turned with heavy heart to leave.

Clambering back down the side of the hill Esme heard the excited whinny of a horse. Was it Riv or some other? She stopped, her heart now fluttering in panic. She listened.

From beneath the leafy canopy directly below her she heard again the shrill scream of a horse in distress. In the tangle of leaves and branches she could not see the animal, nor its assailant. As quickly and as quietly as she could, she slipped the rest of the way down the hill, careful not to show herself openly.

Once below the treetops she saw Riv, legs splayed, head down, backed against the rocks, shaking his mane and baring his teeth. But she could see nothing at all that should so upset him. All was as she had left it. Not a single intruder, man or beast, was in evidence.

Esme dropped to the ground and crouched in the grass for a moment. Hearing nothing and seeing nothing disturbing, she rose and went to the frightened animal to comfort it.

“There, Riv. Easy, boy.” She patted his sleek jaw and curled a slim arm around his neck. “Easy now. What is it… huh? What has affrighted my brave one?”

The horse calmed under her touch and soothing voice. He nickered softly low in his throat and tossed his head. But he continued to look away across the creek-at nothing Esme could see.

“There, now. See? All is well. There is nothing-”

Before Esme could finish, Riv tossed his head, eyes rolling white in terror, and broke away from her. She snatched at the dangling reins, but the horse leaped away and ran through the long grass to stand whinnying across the hollow.

“Riv!” Esme shouted impatiently. “You perverse creature! Come back here!” She stood with her hands on her hips as the horse bucked and shied, spinning in circles of fear as she watched. What had gotten into that animal? wondered Esme. She had seen nothing like it before.

Away, foul beast!

And take your rider-

Or be ye still,

And stand beside her.

At the strange, singsong words spoken in a rasping gabble of a voice, Esme whirled around. Her hand flew to the long dagger at her belt.

Not hangman’s knot,

Nor blade of knife

Prevail against

This sibyl’s life!

Esme could not believe her eyes. For there, in a huddle of rags on a rock in the middle of the creek, stood a humpbacked old woman. She held a long staff in one hand and waved the other before her as if warding off bees. As Esme watched in mute astonishment, the old woman hopped lightly as a cricket from stone to stone and so crossed the stream without so much as wetting a single tatter.

Upon landing on the bank the old women shook her rap in a flurry and stamped the ground three times with her staff. Then she proceeded to hobble toward the spot where Esme stood gaping in amazement. Where had she come from?

“Who are you, old mother?” asked Esme warily. The withered creature did not answer but drew closer in her peculiar hopping gait, swinging the staff and puffing mightily. Her hair hung in a mass of tangled gray snakes bedecked with bits of leaf and twig. The shriveled face looked like a dried apple, a mass of lines and creases browned by the wind and baked by the sun. When the woman moved, Esme imagined she could hear her brittle bones rattle; she appeared as old as the rocks under the hill.

“Who are you?” Esme repeated her question.

The hag made a pass in front of her with her wavering paw. Esme saw the rough hands and blackened nails and noticed, too, the scent of smoke and filth which billowed about the old woman.

If rock and hill

And laughing water

Be hearth and home,

I’m Orphe’s daughter,

She turned her weathered face slyly toward Esme and grinned a leering, toothless grin. It was then that Esme saw the sunken sockets where once eyes used to be. The old woman was utterly blind.

“You live here… in this hollow?”

So ye say

And speak ye true.

And I would ask

The same of you.

“Me? I am Esme. I did not mean to disturb your home. I heard the horse…” She turned and noticed Riv had calmed and now stood watching and cautiously nodding his head as if spellbound. “I will trouble you no further, but will leave at once.”

Of leaving let

No man be spoken,

Till I have known

You by your token.

The ancient oracle held out her hand and propped her chin on her staff and waited. She looked like a bent and gnarled tree on a withered stump offering a lonely branch. Her ragged clothing fluttered in the breeze like leaves.

“I do not have a token, old mother,” said Esme, thinking fast. It did not do to upset an oracle. Especially one of the caste who called themselves the daughters of Orphe, for they were very powerful and wise. “But let me offer a blessing in your name when next I come to a shrine.”