No one else showed interest in the Bewilderment. So once they had helped Ferhuul go on his way, paddling north in the stern of his canoe, they began the journey south. From here all was mountain and storm; but, for now, they knew which way to go.

Chapter 53

Chapter 53

When El came in glory and flung Egdod, and the Pantheon, and the old souls loyal to them, into the outer darkness, they kindled red fires on the blackness of the Firmament where they struck it,” said Weaver. “Not wishing that El and all the other souls of the Land should gaze upon their humiliation every night when the Red Web rose in the eastern sky, Egdod drew a veil of smoke and steam across its face. What goes on behind that veil is ever a mystery to us.”

The campfire had burned down to red coals, glowing clear and sharp in the night. Weaver was attempting to draw a poetic contrast between them and the Red Web, which was putting in an appearance above the eastern horizon just as she said. It was going to be a fleeting appearance, since its arc would soon take it behind the eternal storm looming to the south.

Querc, Mard, and Lyne were looking back and forth between the embers of the fire and the constellation as if Weaver’s point made all kinds of sense to them, but to Prim the two did not look much different: both were clear and crisp as the lightning bolts that occasionally fractured the thunderheads. She saw no benefit in pointing this out.

Mard, perhaps remembering their uneasy conversation on the Asking, glanced at her. When she pretended not to notice, he gave her a more searching look. Then a huge bolt illuminated the whole camp for a moment with sharp blue-white light. She looked back at him and he glanced away.

Querc rose to the bait. “Growing up in the southern desert I heard songs and tales of these parts,” she said, “but many scoffed that they were superstitions of frostbitten northerners.”

“You are about to walk into one of those superstitions,” said Weaver. “Some call it the Madness of Spring.”

“I saw the phrase once, in an old book I was copying,” said Querc, “and remembered it because of its strangeness. But that is all I know of it.”

“Strange indeed,” said Weaver. “I shall say more of it tomorrow, as we are marching into it.”

“I think we’re already there,” Mard said. “When I was gathering firewood, I’m fairly certain a tree tried to kill me—and a squirrel put him up to it.”

“Singing that song would wake everyone up,” said Weaver, showing what some members of the Quest might have considered uncharacteristic consideration for those of her traveling companions who were fond of peace and quiet. “Tomorrow. The point is, be careful of anything that is alive.”