She touched her heels to Verenna’s sides, and the mare bolted forward. The old woman stepped adroitly aside at the last possible moment, and they cantered past her and were out of sight or hearing in a few moments.

Kero reined the mare in as soon as she’d run out some of her nerves; the path was still just as dark and potentially treacherous. And the last thing I need is for Verenna to break her leg within sight of the Tower. I should be in sight of the Tower by now, she thought, looking upward through the branches of the trees. That old woman—in tales she’d either be a demon sent by the mage that took Dierna to turn me back, or a creature of Grandmother‘s, sent to test me. If she’s a demon, the next thing will be a whole swarm of them after me—

The back of her neck crawled at that thought, and she could not resist the temptation to stop, turn, and look down the path behind her.

Nothing. Just the moving shadows of tree limbs, and an owl winging silently across the road. Even Verenna seemed calmer, no longer fighting the reins, no longer sweating.

So much for the tales, she thought, a little embarrassed by her wild fears. Sometimes a crazy old woman is just a crazy old woman.

The Tower was exactly as Kero remembered it; or at least, the little of it she could see in the darkness was exactly as she remembered. Halfway up the side of the cliff, a single light burned beside the door. There might have been a fainter light coming from a curtained or shuttered window above that, but it was too faint for Kero to be sure it was there.

Verenna whickered inquisitively as she dismounted. The trees and brush had been cut away for several lengths at the bottom of the cliff, leaving a wide expanse of meadow. Not a carefully manicured and tended meadow though; this one was knee-high in grass and wildflowers, and looked very much like a natural clearing.

The moon shone down on this swath of grass unhindered by brush or trees, making it possible for Kero to see quite clearly. There was a hitching post beside the beginning of the staircase; a steep, narrow, open stone stair. Not even a Shin‘a’in-bred horse was going to be able to negotiate that; it was barely wide enough for a single human.

And it’s a good thing I have a head for heights, she thought soberly, eyeing the stair dubiously. Oh, well....

She tethered Verenna to the hitching post, giving her enough lead-rope so that she’d be able to graze a little. It’s too late for wolves, and too early for mountain-cats.

I hope. Once again she looked back down the path, and once again saw and heard nothing out of the ordinary. She turned and started up the staircase, with one hand on the rough stone wall, resolutely looking at the steps and not over the open side. The stone beneath her hand was still warm from the afternoon sun. She forced herself to hurry as much as she dared, taking the relatively shallow steps two at a time; she’d have run, but the footing was too uncertain and the light was deceptive.