Alec woke to midafternoon light slanting into the cave, illuminating its timeless artwork and what remained of the stone formations. Naked, bruised, and wonderfully filthy, he tightened his arms around Seregil, who was still lying half on top of him, one arm around Alec’s waist, one leg slung over Alec’s as if he was afraid even in sleep of losing him. The head scarf was gone, and Seregil’s tangled hair only partly covered the shaved patches and stitches. The short new hairs around the wounds were pure white. All the same, he’d never looked more beautiful to Alec, or felt so perfect in his arms.

Too soon Seregil stirred and stretched against him. Lifting his head, he gave Alec a contented smile. “Hello, my talímenios.”

Alec brushed a tangle of dark hair back from Seregil’s cheek. “Hello, mine.”

Seregil sat up with a groan and reached for his breeches. “I wonder if we scared any shepherds?” he said as they dressed.

“I expect so, if the landscape melting and a large tower appearing out of nowhere didn’t do it already.” Alec stood and gazed out at Zikara and the ruins of Rhazat’s stronghold. “Do you think there will be as many ghosts now?”

Seregil shrugged. “I imagine there will always be ghosts on Kouros, but not monsters.” He looked in the basket. “We’ve eaten everything. I guess we better go back.”

“There’s something I want to—” Alec broke off as a large white owl swooped in over their heads to perch in the opening of the tunnel leading up to the other caves. Alec and Seregil bowed their heads reverently to Illior’s bird. The owl bobbed its round head and blinked its huge yellow eyes, as if returning the greeting, then fluffed its feathers and flew up the tunnel to the caves above.

“Have you ever seen an owl do that?” asked Alec.

“No.”

They scrambled up to the middle cave. There was no sign of the owl except for a white tail feather banded with pale grey lying on the ancient oracle’s stool like an offering. In silent agreement, they left it there and went through to the outer cave. It was empty, and there was no sign of the bird outside.

“Something tells me the oracle will speak here again,” said Seregil. “We should probably get back.”

“I know, but there’s something I need to do.”

The horses that had been brought for them from Mirror Moon were still hobbled down the slope from the painted cave, and they galloped across the plain to Zikara.