He did not look back. If he did he could stumble, or he would see what he so did not wish to see. So he ran blind, scraping his shoulder around the roughly circular base of the caim. He gasped at the sudden shock of rain as he emerged from the overhang, but kept on running.

He heard shouting behind him, and the harsh hiss of swords being drawn. Lulah roared, loud as a female mountain wolf protecting her young from a rogue male. Ramin and Konrad growled something back, someone hit the ground, more loud voices in argument and then conflict . . . but Ramus did not hear metal on metal. Don't fight, he thought. He did not want Lulah's death on his conscience.

He circled around another quarter of the cairn, then searched for hand- and footholds. Water was pouring down the structure's outer skin, and where moonlight lit silvery splashes against protuberances he found the purchase points he wanted. He climbed quickly, scaling the sloping wall of the mound, scrabbling with hands and feet and trying not to make too much noise. A dozen steps higher and the wall sloped in toward the top of the cairn. He began to crawl.

Let it be here, he thought. Moss and grass sprouted from cracks and joints in the stone below him, and when he reached the highest point of the curved roof he found the entrance hole he was searching for. It was covered by a thin mat of heather, but he tore through into the darkness below and knew that no one had been inside for a long, long time.

He lay there for a while, looking all around and fearing that he'd see Ramin or Konrad appear over the edge of the cairn at any moment. He still heard shouted threats and curses down below, but now he could only hear one male voice.

She's keeping one of them occupied, he thought. But she can't take on two.

With another glance around he lowered himself into the cairn.

He was trying to remember everything he had read about these places. There were hundreds scattered all across the Pavissia Steppes, the tombs of important tribal leaders from long ago. Most of them had steps leading down from the uppermost entrance, and Ramus supported himself on his elbows as he felt around with his feet. There! His memory was good.

They would come down after him, of course. But he had not come here to hide.

It was completely dark inside the cairn. Ramus could not see his hand before his eyes. There were thirteen steps and then the flat floor, a gravelly surface that allowed the rainwater to soak down into the ground. It smelled of age and forgotten things, and it was almost silent, as though the burial structure had no concern with today's world. Even the wraiths here were too ancient to make themselves known.