Swan assured me that I was missing one heck of a view, especially as we approached the lower end of the gap, where the light was brighter, revealing churning mists way below, mists that concealed the depths of the abyss. I kept my eyes closed until we were back into a closed cavern again.

I had started counting steps up top so I could get an idea of how deep we went but I lost count while I was pretending to be a fly crawling on a wall. I was too busy being terrified. But it did seem like we had traveled a long way horizontally as well as downward.

Almost immediately after I had that thought, the stair turned left, then left again. The orange red light faded away. The stair made a couple more quick turns into a total darkness, which aroused whole new species of terrors. But nothing bit me and nothing came to steal my soul.

Then there was light again, growing so subtly I was never really aware of first noticing it. It had a golden cast to it but was extremely cold. And as soon as I was aware of it, I knew we were approaching our destination.

The stairwell passed right through a natural cavern. At one time that had been sealed off but the quakes had toppled the responsible masonry walls. I asked, “We here?”

“Almost. Careful climbing over the stones. They aren’t very stable.”

“What’s that?”

“What?”

“That sound.”

We listened. After a while, Swan said, “I think it’s wind. Sometimes there was a breeze when we were down here before.”

“Wind? A mile underground?”

“Don’t ask me to explain it. It just is. You want to go first this time?”

“Yes.”

“I thought you would.”

Golden caverns where old men sat beside the way, frozen in time, immortal but unable to move an eyelid. Madmen they, some covered with fairy webs of ice as though a thousand winter spiders had spun threads of frozen water. Above, an enchanted forest of icicles grew downward from the cavern roof.

So Murgen described it once upon a time, decades ago. The description remained apt, though the light was not as golden as I expected and the delicate filigrees of ice were denser and more complex. The old men seated against the walls, caught up in the webs, were not the wide-eyed madmen of Murgen’s visions, though. They were dead. Or asleep. I did not see one open eye. Nor did I see one face I recognized.

“Willow. Who are these people?” The bitter wind continued to rush through the cavern, which was a dozen feet high and nearly as wide, with a relatively flat floor, side to side.

It sloped with the length of the cavern. It looked like ancient, frozen mud covered with a pelt of fine frost fur. Water had run through the cavern in some epoch before the coming of men.

“These ones? I don’t know. They were here when we came down.”

I leaned closer but was careful not to touch. “These caves are natural.”

“They have that look.”

“Then they’ve been down here all along. They were here before the plain was built.”

“Possibly. Probably.”

“And whoever buried Kina knew about them. So did the Deceivers chased here by Rhaydreynak. Hunh! This one is definitely deceased. Naturally mummified but definitely gone.” The corpse was all dried out. Bare bone showed at a folded knee and tattered elbow. “These others? Who knows? Maybe the right sorcery could get them up and running around like Iqbal’s kids.”

“Why would we get them up? We’re here to get the guys that me and Catcher buried. Right? They’re on up there.” He pointed upslope, where the light was even less golden, becoming almost an icy blue.

The light was not bright. Not nearly so much so as in the vision I had experienced. Maybe it was more a psychic witchlight than a physical one, more suited to the dreamwalker’s eye. I mused, “They might be able to tell us something interesting.”

“I’ll tell you something interesting,” Swan muttered to himself. In a normal voice, for my benefit, he said, “I don’t think so. At least I don’t think it would be anything any of us would want to hear. Catcher took extreme pains to avoid even touching them. Getting the captives past without disturbing them was the hardest work we did.”

I bent to examine another of the old men. He did not look like he belonged to any race I knew. “They must be from one of the other worlds.”

“Maybe. There’s a saying where I grew up: ’Let sleeping’ dogs lie.’ Sounds like exquisitely appropriate advice. We don’t know why they were put down here.”

“I have no intention of releasing any deviltry but our own. These men here aren’t the same as those.”

“There were several different groups last time. I doubt that that’s changed. I got the feeling that they were dumped here at different times. See how much less ice there is around these guys? Makes me think it takes centuries to accumulate.”

“Ow!”

“What?”

“I banged my head on this damned rock icicle thing.”

“Hmm. I must’ve overlooked it somehow.”

“Get smart and I’ll punch you in the kneecap, Lofty. Does it feel like it’s colder in here than it ought to be?” It was not my imagination and not the icy wind, either.

“Always.” His grin had gone away. “It’s them. I think. Starting to realize somebody’s here. It keeps building up. It can get on your nerves if you pay any attention to it.”

I could feel the growth of whatever it was. Insanity becoming palpable, I suppose. That was the impression, anyway.

“How come we’re able to move around in here?” I asked. “Why aren’t we frozen?”

“We’d probably end up that way if we stayed long enough to fall asleep. These people all had to be unconscious when they were brought down here.”

“Really?” We were up where there was less ice. The frost on the floor still betrayed the tracks left by Soulcatcher and Willow Swan years ago. The old men here were different. They resembled Nyueng Bao, except for one, who had been tall, thin and extremely pale. “But they don’t stay asleep?” Several pairs of open eyes seemed to track me. I hoped it was my imagination, stimulated by the spookiness of the cave. I never actually saw any movement.

Footsteps.

I jumped hip-high to a short elephant before I realized that it had to be Sahra and the Radisha and whoever else had decided not to participate in all those exciting projects that were underway upstairs. “Go keep those people from stomping in here and messing everything up. I’ll get an idea of the layout and try to figure out what we’ll have to do.”

Swan scowled and growled and grunted, then minced carefully back down the slight slope toward the stairwell. He talked to himself all the way. And I did not blame him. Even I thought nothing ever went right for him.

I took a step in the direction the old footprints led. My boots went out from under me. I hit hard, then slid downhill until I caught up with Swan, who did a convincing job of acting amused after he stopped me. “You all right?”

“Bruised my side. Hurt my wrist.”

“I shoulda told you. That floor can be pretty slippery where there’s a lot of frost.”

“You’re lucky I don’t swear.”

“Uhm?”

“You forgot on purpose. You’re as bad as One-Eye or Goblin.”

“Did I just hear my name taken in vain?” One-Eye’s voice, punctuated by rasping panting more suitable to a lunger, came from the shadows down where the stair intercepted the cavern.

“God is Great, God is Good. God is the All-Knowing and All-Merciful. His Plan is Hidden but Just.” And save me from the Mystery of His Plan because all I ever get is the Misery of His Plan. “What is he doing down here?” I asked Swan. “I know. I’ll leave him behind. I know I’m definitely not going to carry him up out of here just so he doesn’t suffer another stroke from the effort. Hit him over the head when he isn’t looking.” I began moving deeper into the cave again. “I’m going to try this one more time.” Beneath my breath I continued my conversation with God. As usual, He did not trouble Himself to defend His Works to me. My fault for being a woman.