"May it shine as brightly. What of the real seer?"
"Dead, as I've said. Back in the swamp by the quicksand."
"He gave his life for us," Colwyn murmured, "trying to aid us in our journey."
"He was my only family," said the downcast Titch. "I never knew my father or mother. He was both to me, and teacher as well."
"We're your family now, boy," said Colwyn gently.
Ergo took the lad aside. Titch was struggling not to cry. He did not succeed. Colwyn forced himself to turn from the sound of weeping to confer with Ynyr and Torquil. He had listened too much to weeping lately.
"We have plans to make. We have no way of finding the Black Fortress. With the seer dead and the temple submerged, our window on the Beast has been broken,"
Ynyr nodded thoughtfully. "So it would appear."
"Then what are we to do?"
Ynyr considered. When he spoke again it was with evident reluctance. "There is one other way of locating the Fortress, if the one I have in mind will help us. She sees without the aid of devices, a gift of breeding." He threw Colwyn an odd look as he said this, but Colwyn was not of a mind to question the old man's thoughts.
"You speak of another seer?."
"Not precisely another seer, no. Someone. . . different."
"And who might that be?"
"The widow of the web."
Torquil turned to spit disgustedly. "That creature helps no one, except to help them to a quick and horrible death. None who go there return."
"It is not she who is to blame but the captor who keeps watch over her. The same captor that protects her from the attentions of Slayers as much as men. This creature makes no distinction between Slayers and supplicants, but destroys all who approach the widow with equal dispatch."
"Nor will it make any special distinction for us," Torquil pointed out.
"She has great powers, the widow."
"To kill," Torquil admitted readily.
"She may not kill me, for I know her name."
"That's no secret. Her name is death. A name I would not call out no matter how great my need."
"No. I mean her real name, her true name. An old and powerful name still respected today."
Colwyn looked doubtful. "It sounds too dangerous, Ynyr.
I value your council too highly to let you risk your life for a vision that may not be granted."
"I must try. We all risk our lives on this journey. My risk is no greater than yours." He smiled knowingly. "And I have less life to lose. I sometimes think I have lived too long already. As for my counsel that you value so highly, it would be of little use to you if we were to spend years wandering aimlessly about in search of the Fortress. You need to find and penetrate it quickly, before the Beast has time to devise defenses to keep you out. By moving as fast as we have we keep him a little off balance, a touch uncertain. Thus he cannot focus his powers as effectively as he otherwise might."
Torquil looked away. "So we keep him off balance, eh? Tell that to the seer, or to Darro and Menno."
"You have no comprehension of the forces the Beast could bring to bear on us if given time."
"And I'd like to keep it that way, old man!" He turned and stalked away from them.
"He discounts our need," said Ynyr.
"He's frightened, that's all," Colwyn countered. "I'm frightened, too."
"It is no vice to be human. I must try to obtain the widow's help, Colwyn. I can think of no other way to locate the Fortress quickly. We cannot chance stumbling upon it by accident or luck. We do not have that much time. And Lyssa certainly does not.
"You say that you value my counsel. I counsel this approach. You cannot value what I say in one breath and disregard what I recommend in the next."
"I see what Torquil means about your twisting words." Colwyn's expression was grim. "Very well. If you're sure this is the only choice remaining to us…"
"It is, my boy, it is. I wish it were otherwise. I wish it more than you can imagine, for reasons that have nothing to do with the real risk to my person. But each must do what each can do. Perhaps it was preordained."
"You told me once you didn't believe in that." "So I did." Ynyr gave him a pleased smile. "You remember. A good virtue for a king. But it seems too much of a coincidence that I should be compelled to visit the widow."
Colwyn wanted to know what the old man meant, but he held his questions. Some things were meant not to be pried into.
It was hard to imagine a more cheerful morning or a more pleasing sight than the evergreen woods that greeted them upon their emergence from the Wyn-nah-Mabrug. Torquil inhaled deeply of the fresh, pine-scented air and turned to spit back at the swampland they'd just abandoned.
"And may I never set foot in such a country again as long as I live!"
"I'll second that," said Kegan readily. "I dislike traveling where the air itself is an ally of one's enemies. Let it keep its secrets. I've no desire to visit the place again, no matter what treasure sunken temples may hold."
Only Rell did not join in the chorus of relief. Fog and mist had been friend to him all his life. Someday, when this quest was ended, he hoped to rejoin them. He gave little weight to this Colwyn's protestations of friendship. As he'd learned more than once, in clear air and on full bellies, politicians tended to forget awkward promises made during more trying times.
Possibly I misjudge this one, though, he thought. Perhaps he means what he says. Not that it mattered. Better to live as a pessimist. That way one was rarely disappointed.
He looked down at the small boy who clung tightly to his huge hand. The child was handling his fate better than many adults. One could almost imagine him a young of the one-eyes, so stoic was his attitude and solemn his composure. Rell wished he could do something for Titch but he could not think of anything. Friendship was all he had to offer.
Ergo trailed behind, rummaging through his pockets, glancing intently at one scrap of paper after another before jamming them back into their cloth repositories.
"Blast! One of these days I've got to get organized. Hire a scribe to rewrite everything nice and neat. Ah." He smiled at nothing in particular, dropped slightly to one side of the marchers. No one saw him melt into the bushes.
Oswyn hesitated, hand on sword hilt. Kegan trotted up to stand next to him.
"What is it?"
Oswyn stared into the trees. "I thought I heard something."
His companion joined him in listening hard. "I hear nothing. What did it sound like?"
"I don't know. Strange. A popping sound."