"Were did you learn to use a sword?" he asked dazedly.

"In Silicia Orebrand's parlor," she said. "It didn't take much practice.

I seem to be a natural. Now aren't you glad I came looking for you?" She strode to Wingover's horse, led the animal a few yards away, positioned it beside a boulder, and said, "Excuse me for a minute, please." Dropping its reins, she climbed up on the rock and began unlashing one of the packs.

Wingover was still gawking at the cloven ogre, but now he noticed Jilian with his horse, and hurried across.

"What are you doing? Those things are mine."

"Then make yourself useful and convince your animal to stand still," she said. "He keeps sidling away." Wingover stilled the horse, caught up its reins, and scowled across the saddle at the dwarven girl. "Those are my private things. What are you doing?" Rummaging deep in the open pack,

Jilian drew out a long garment of stained white linen. It was longer than she was tall, but by holding it high and turning to the edge of the rock, she could study it full-length. "This will do, I suppose," she decided.

"What is it?" Wingover tried to reach across the saddle, to grab the garment out of her hand, but couldn't reach it. "Put that back," he demanded.

"That ogre ripped my clothing," Jilian said. "But what is this thing, anyway?"

"It's a cleric's robe," Wingover snapped. "I traded some deerhides for it."

"Why? What did you want it for?"

"I intend to sleep in it! Sometime, if ever I find a quiet room in a civilized place. Now, let's drop the subject. If you can use it, go ahead,

I guess. Do you want me to – 7"

"I think I can tend to the fitting." Jilian smiled, folding the robe and turning back to the open pack to see what else might be useful. She had help now. The kender had lost interest in ogre internals and was up on the boulder, helping her rummage.

"You have some nice stuff in here," Chess told the man.

"There are goblins or something all over down there,"

Chane said, peering down at the valley. 'They're out in squadrons, patrolling all over the place. We won't be able to go around them."

"Through them, then?" Chess asked, looking up from a saddlebag.

"I wish we had Bobbin to sort out a route for us," the man said. "But he went the other way, and there's no telling when he might show up again. By the way, where's the wizard? I haven't seen him since we came down from the pass."

"He went up," Chane said.

"I guess we'll just have to find our way, then."

Wingover looked at the sky. "Daylight will be gone in an hour. I guess we can try to cross by night. It's only a few miles, straight across… unless we decided to change our minds and just make for Thorbardin." He had their attention, and the expressions forming on various faces brought a grin to his own. "Just checking," he said. "I wouldn't want to try to slip through a valley full of goblins unless I was pretty sure everybody with me is as determined as I am."

Chane Feldstone's thoughtful frown didn't relax. The dwarf stepped closer to the human, looked up into his eyes, and held his gaze. "I never wanted to get involved in anything like this. I didn't want to wind up in the wilderness, or fight ogres and goblins, or be singled out to finish some task that was begun before ever I was born. But I won't turn back now. I wouldn't if I could. Do you know why? It's because something very bad is happening…or is going to happen. I happen to be here, and I happen to have a chance to do something about it. If I don't, then who is going to?" "I wouldn't miss it for anything," Chestal Thicketsway assured

Wingover. "And I think that goes for Zap, too." He glanced around at nothing in particular. "Doesn't it, Zap?"

"Misery and confusion," something silent seemed to say.

The kender grinned. "That means he can hardly wait to see what happens next."

Jilian Firestoke peered out from behind a screen of mountain brush, where she was doing something. "What Chane said goes for me, too," she said.

"Any further doubts?" Chane asked the man.

Wingover shook his head. "Not a single one."

"Then let's stop talking about it and go on," Chane snapped.

"Someone is coming." The kender pointed. A moment later brush parted on the rising slope and the wizard Glenshadow came into view. He looked haggard and cold, but his steps were firm.

"The valley is full of goblins," Chane told him. "We are going to try to cross at night."

"I've seen them," Glenshadow said. "They are all over, and they're moving around. Where is the crystal? Where is Spellbinder?"

"Right here." Chane reached into his belt-pouch. As his fingers touched the artifact it pulsed warmly, and again he saw the luminous green path leading away across the Vale of Respite, toward the slopes beyond. He drew it out. It glowed, rosy in the half-light.

"Put it in a hole," the wizard said.

"Why?"

"Because I'm curious about something. Don't worry, I won't trick you.

There. That hole in the rock, put it there."

Suspiciously, Chane squatted beside the indicated hole. It was little more than a foot deep, just a pocket where erosion had widened a crack on the stone. The others gathered around, curious.

"Go ahead," the wizard insisted. "Put it in there. You can take it out again in a moment."

Chane lowered the crystal into the hole, rested it on the bottom, then stood and stepped back. Glenshadow backed away, his eyes nearly closed.

The crystal device on his staff glowed feebly. "There is an effect," he muttered. "It makes a difference."

Chestal Thicketsway blinked and looked up. A drop of rain had fallen on his head.

"Are you finished?" Chane asked the wizard. "It's time to go."

"Yes," Glenshadow noted thoughtfully. "It is time to go."

"What was that all about?" Wingover asked. But the wizard had turned away.

Chane retrieved the crystal, put it away, and lashed his pack. Jilian came from the screen of brush, now clad in a tunic of stained white linen, scaled down to fit her by a series of clever tucks, folds, and ties. She handed most of the once-robe back to the human.

Wingover stared at her. "I don't know why I ever thought that old robe was for me," he said.

Chane took the lead, and they started down the darkening slopes, toward the Vale of Respite, where goblins now occupied what had once been a vale of peace.

When they were gone, something massive came from the rocks and paused to look at the heap of chilling gore that once had been an ogre.

He prodded the mess with his toes, then stepped over it and went to where the dim trail led downward. He growled, a noise that rumbled like distant thunder.

"Cleft was careless," he muttered. "Cleft is dead. Should have waited for Loam, instead. But puny ones are still in sight. Loam will have a sport this night." Without looking back, the ogre took the trail where the searchers had gone.