Kern hung his head in despair. "We have to warn her somehow," he said without much confidence.

"I think I might be able to arrange something," Listle said, hurrying over to her leather backpack. "I found these yesterday while I was wandering around the maze in the ruins. Something told me they might come in handy."

She pulled two cylindrical objects from her pack. With a flick of her wrist, she unrolled one of them. It was a bright, intricately patterned carpet.

Kern eyed the carpet skeptically. "Maybe I'm missing something here, but I fail to see how a rug is going to solve our problems."

Listle snorted with annoyance. "Sometimes you have absolutely no imagination, Kern." She snapped her fingers, and abruptly the carpet rose several feet off the ground, its golden fringe fluttering. "These are flying carpets!" Listle hopped onto the hovering carpet while the others watched in amazement. The elf positively beamed. "What in the world would you do without my help?"

"I shudder to think," Miltiades said, a note in his dry voice that might almost have been amusement.

Their decision was made easy for them. While Kern wanted nothing more than to hurry back to Shal and Tarl, he knew they must go to warn Evaine.

"I suppose this means we'll have to leave you behind," Listle said sadly, stroking the muzzle of her gray pony.

"I don't think you need bid your steed farewell, Listle," Miltiades said.

"I wish you were right, Miltiades," Listle answered glumly. "But somehow I doubt the horses will fit on the magic carpets."

"We'll see," Miltiades replied mysteriously.

The undead paladin whispered something into the ear of his magical white stallion, Eritophenes, who then pranced toward Listle's pony. Eritophenes bent his head over the dappled gray and snorted. A pale mist encircled the pony, and suddenly the horse shimmered, shrinking in size until it became a tiny gray figurine standing in the snow. Eritophenes moved to the other horses, and in moments they, too, had been transformed by the stallion's magical breath into miniatures. Eritophenes let out a whinny, then also glowed brightly, shrinking into a small, prancing figure.

Miltiades gathered the miniature horses and placed them safely in a pouch. Kern could only shake his head in wonder. That was another problem solved.

"Now if I could only do that with Kern when he's acting uncooperative," Listle mused.

"You know, Listle, you're really not as funny as you think you are," Kern grumped.

She gave him a flat stare. "What makes you think I'm joking?"

Quickly they broke camp and packed their things onto the carpets. But when it was time to go, Daile hesitated.

"I'm sorry, Kern," she said quietly. "But I can't go with you. At least not yet. I… I have to take my father back to the Valley of the Falls. I know he would want to lie by my mother's side."

Kern nodded gravely, gripping her shoulder tightly. He hated to part company with the ranger.

"Take one of the carpets, Daile," Listle offered. "We three can all fit on one." She shot Kern a wry look. "If this big oaf doesn't hog all the space, that is."

Kern nodded. "Do take it, Daile. And when you can, come find us in the mountains."

"I will, Kern. I promise."

With that, Kern, Miltiades, and Listle climbed onto one of the undulating carpets. At a signal from the elf, it rose into the air and sped northward.

Daile watched as the carpet dwindled to a speck, then vanished from sight. A frigid wind picked up, blowing her red-gold hair from her brow as she turned to face the dawning sun.

"I swear that I will avenge you, Father," she whispered. Her words were snatched away by the wind. "With the sky as my witness, I swear it."

Daile Redfletching turned her back on the brilliant orb of the sun and, taking the second flying carpet, trudged up the slope toward the grove of aspens.

"I don't know what's getting into me, Gam."

Evaine dragged herself out of her bedroll, blinking blearily in the brilliant morning light. This was the third day in a row she had woken feeling as if she had been up fighting battles all night long. Her dark eyes looked sunken, her skin sallow. She sighed as she sat cross-legged on her bedroll, slowly chewing a piece of hardtack. Even eating seemed a chore.

You push yourself too hard, Evaine, Gamaliel's voice entered her mind. And though you do not admit it, the cold bothers you.

"I don't mind it," Evaine countered, but in the same instant she gave a shiver, belying her words. The mountain cold seemed to seep right through her heavy coat and into her bones.

You never were a very good liar, Gamaliel noted.

"Then I guess I'll just have to practice some more, won't I?" Evaine replied archly. The great cat's whiskers twitched in annoyance.

The sorceress set aside the hardtack. She knew she had to eat to keep up her strength, but she had little appetite. She gathered her willpower and stood, trembling as she gained her feet. Stiffly, she gathered her things and shrugged on her backpack.

"Let's go, Gam."

She started off through the snow, followed by her familiar. Evaine was certain they were nearing the pool of twilight. She had cast her scrying spell several times these last few days, at several different locations. After each try, she had taken out her magical map of the mountains and, with a shining green line, marked the general direction of the spell. The pool was most likely concealed where the lines intersected. It was only a matter of time-and spells-before Evaine pinpointed the location exactly.

She could only hope that when she finally did find it, she would still have enough strength to destroy the pool of twilight.

She found herself wondering how Miltiades and the others were faring. Reflexively she reached up to touch the brooch of communication-but her fingers met only a small tear in her tunic. The brooch was gone. She sighed. How she had lost the gem, she did not know. Now there was no way for her to contact the others.

By midday the forest had thinned, giving way to a field of boulders that sloped toward a sheer cliff. Climbing the cliff with its crumbling overhangs looked to be an impossibility. However, a small stream had cut a steep but passable ravine into the cliff face. Picking their way carefully across the loose scree, sorceress and cat started up the defile.

Evaine quickly realized they were not the first travelers to have come this way. Indeed, they stumbled upon a faint but distinguishable path, marked here and there by small cairns. When the ravine widened into a broad, boulder-strewn bowl, Evaine saw the remains of a temple perched on the cliff top, now perhaps two hundred feet above them. It looked as if half of the structure had slid into the valley centuries ago, and what remained was wind-worn and roofless. But several colonnades of broken columns still stood, and a section of crumbling wall suggesting some sort of nave.

Evaine marveled at the ruin, wondering who had built a hall for their god in this place so long ago. It must have been a very holy site, she thought. Even now there was a peculiar serenity about the weathered columns that reached toward the azure dome of the sky.

The path continues up to the temple, Gamaliel spoke in his mistress's mind.

Evaine nodded, and the two began to wend their way among the jagged boulders up the narrow path.

"Do you hear thunder?" she asked her familiar, frowning.

Winter is not the time for thunderstorms.

Evaine gazed at the sky. There wasn't a cloud in sight. She was about to accredit the noise she had heard to her imagination when suddenly she heard it again. It was louder this time, a low rumbling that grew with each passing second.