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The old crone cackled. She seemed genuinely pleased. "Kwarun, you always did know how to warm a girl's heart. Don't worry. I took no more than a nibble out of your watchdog. He can tell the rest of his litter it's a love bite from old Tselelka."

Amira pushed her way forward. "You've come from Winterkeep, old woman. What is there?"

Tselelka's eyes lit with a sudden fire at the sight of Amira. Her nostrils flared and she licked her lips as she took an eager step forward.

The belkagen stepped in front of Amira and pushed her back. "Back, hag! I said you'll find no meal here."

The old woman scowled, and the hunger in her eyes only seemed to increase. "Cruel, Kwarun. Poor old Tselelka's had nothing but rats and worse for months. Haven't had a bit of manflesh since last summer, and this one smells sweet."

"I said no, Tselelka. Now be gone."

The old woman craned her neck to try to catch a glimpse of Amira. "Give old Tselelka a taste and I'll answer your question, girlie."

The belkagen flicked his staff and said, "Crithta!" White fire shot from his staff and struck the ground in front of the old woman.

Tselelka shielded her eyes and stepped back from the steaming hole in the snow before her. "Missed, old meddler!"

"I hit where I aimed," said the belkagen. He lowered his staff, pointing the end right at the old woman. "And the next one will hit as well. Now off with you! You and your orglash!"

The hag looked at the belkagen through narrowed eyes. "I hope we meet again, meddler, when Tselelka is rested and fed. I hope you survive your latest folly so that I can teach you some manners. Flee Winterkeep. Listen to the wind, and perhaps we'll meet again."

The old woman motioned to the cyclone behind her, which suddenly grew and spread, hitting everyone with galeforce winds and blinding them in the snow. Amira had a spell half cast when the wind died away and the snow settled. The old hag was gone, leaving the senseless sentry on the ground.

"Listen to the wind?" Amira asked. "What's that mean?"

"Listen," said Haerul.

Amira did. With the orglash gone, the north wind had returned, but now it seemed colder, and besides the hissing of the snow, Amira could almost swear she heard voices, fell and dark, chanting at the back of the wind.

* * * * *

Far away, on the tattered edges of the storm, a long tear opened in the clouds, and the waxing moon shone through like a baleful eye peeking through a torn curtain. Its pale light reflected off miles of steppe, now covered with a fresh blanket of white.

On the very edge of the moon's light, the blanket of snow rose, shedding snow in places as the ground rose to a great height-a high hill shaped like a broken and weathered fang that had long since given up biting at the sky. The Mother's Bed.

At its summit, amid a thick grove of trees that even now still bore green, a large rock leaned out of the soil, a great crack forming a cave at its base.

Gyaidun, all alone, no sacrifice in hand, watched that yawning darkness a long time. He remembered the words spoken only three days ago.

"Hro'nyewachu will be hungry," the belkagen had said. "If you have no gift…"

"What?" Amira had asked.

"Feed Hro'nyewachu or she will feed on you," Gyaidun had told her.

"What kind of Oracle is this?"

"I told you," the belkagen said. "She is a being of need-both in fulfilling and needing to be fulfilled. Nothing comes free. Blood for blood."

"So be it," said Gyaidun. "Blood for blood." He raised his knife and walked into the hungry darkness.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

The Endless Wastes

Dawn was no more than a dim gloom bleeding through the deep darkness. Huddled near the fire, unable to sleep, Amira clutched her staff tight. In the back of her mind, she knew that far beyond the storm the sun was rising in the east. Part of her welcomed the knowledge that somewhere out there, light still shone through open skies and brought warmth to the land, even if she could not feel it here. But the foremost part of her mind dreaded the coming of dawn.