She scanned the objects scattered on the stone surface. The Imass joined her. Lorn picked up a scabbarded knife, then discarded it. In this Tool could not help her. She had to rely upon her own senses, honed by the strange, unpredictable effects of the Otataral. A mirror set in an antler caught her eye. The mica surface was latticed in a web of frost, yet it seemed to glimmer with a light of its own. She reached for it, then hesitated. Beside it, almost lost among the crystalline frost, was a small, round object. It lay upon a flap of hide. Lorn frowned, then picked it up.

As its ice coating melted, she saw that it was not perfectly round. She polished the blackened surface and studied it closely.

'I believe it is an acorn,' Tool said.

Lorn nodded. 'And it's the Finnest.' Her gaze fell to the capped mound of rocks. 'What an odd choice.'

The Imass shrugged in a clatter of bones. 'The Jaghut are odd people.'

'Tool, they weren't very war-like, were they? I mean, before your kind sought to destroy them.'

The Imass was slow to reply. 'Even then,' he said at last. 'The key lay in making them angry, for then they destroyed indiscriminately, including their own.'

Lorn shut her eyes briefly. She pocketed the Finnest. 'Let's get out of here.'

'Yes, Adjunct. Even now the Jaghut Tyrant stirs.'

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

But someone died here

alas. Who drinks

of this now and then

and stirs the ashes

of thine own pyre?

Maker of Paths, you

were never so thirsty

in youth ...

Old Temple

Sivyn Stor (b.1022)

'This isn't right, Meese,' Crokus said, as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. 'We can't just hide in here for ever.'

Apsalar said, from the window, 'It's almost dark.'

Meese crouched once again to check the trap-door's lock. 'We're moving you again, after the twelfth bell. Irilta's down below, getting details.'

'Who's giving these orders?' Crokus demanded. 'Have you found Uncle Mammot yet?'

'Relax, lad.' Meese straightened. 'No, we ain't found your uncle. And the orders come from your protectors. I won't answer any questions about who they are, Crokus, so save your breath.'

Apsalar shifted position by the window to take in Meese. 'Your friend's been a long time,' she said. 'Do you think something's happened?'

Meese looked away. This girl was sharp. Of course, Meese had known that the first time they'd met, and old Chert had found out the hard way. 'Not sure,' she admitted. She bent to unlock the trap-door. 'You both stay put,' she ordered, glaring at Crokus. 'I ain't going to be happy if you do something stupid. Understand?'

The boy looked glum, his arms crossed. He watched as Meese opened the trap-door and climbed down the ladder.