Here was open territory, unguarded. They crossed it as swiftly as they dared. The Gorgantus River cut a broad, unnatural swath through the Vale. Once, it had flowed southward down the Defile, where only a trickle remained. Lord Satoris had diverted it to serve his purposes, but it flowed low and sluggish, resentful despite untold ages at being deprived of its natural course.

And for other reasons.

They crouched on the bank, staring at the water. It looked black in the starlight, moving in slow eddies, thick as oil. An odor arose from it; salt-sweet and coppery.

“Do you reckon we can drink it?” Dani whispered.

Uncle Thulu licked his parched lips. “I wouldn’t.” He glanced at Dani. “You mean for us to get in that filth, lad?”

“Aye.” He touched the flask, steeling his resolve. “The banks will hide us.”

“So be it.” Thulu slid down the bank.

Dam followed, landing waist deep in the tainted water. Cold mud squelched between his toes. Here, at least, they would be invisible to any watching sentries; merely a small disturbance on the river’s oily surface. Lowering their heads, shivering against the water’s chill, they began to make their way downstream. For all their efforts at caution, they slipped and slid, until they were wet, mud-smeared, and bedraggled, all the supplies they carried spoiled by the tainted water.

The sky was beginning to pale by the time they reached the buildings where the forges were housed; not dawn, not yet, but the stars were growing faint and the unalleviated blackness between them was giving way to a deep charcoal. And other obstacles, too, forced them to halt. Ahead of them on the river, a strange structure moved; a mighty wheel, turning steadily, water streaming from its broad paddles. Beyond it lay the low array of buildings; furnaces and forges, and a ramshackle structure that seemed to have been erected in haste. Despite the fact, it was the site of the greatest activity. Smoke poured from it, dim figures moving in its midst, going to and fro.

For the first time since the tunnels, Dani knew despair.

“What do you suppose that is?” Thulu whispered, leaning on the muddy bank. He sniffed the air. “Smells like … like a meal!”

“I don’t know,” Dani murmured. With an effort, he stilled his chattering teeth and studied the buildings. The nearest one seemed the most abandoned. He nodded at it. “We’ll make for there. It may be we can find a place to hide.”

“Aye, lad.” Thulu extricated himself from the sucking mud. “Come on.”

It was hard to move, cold as he was. Dani took his uncle’s strong hand, bracing his feet against the bank and hauling himself out of the river. They shook themselves, wringing the foul water from their clothes. There was nothing to be done about the mud.