At the foot of the ledge Blob had to take the lead again. The stones and rocks were difficult to negotiate in the dark, and some of them were dangerous. Blob got himself cut by unexpected points, and once a boulder lop-balanced on another toppled. Narra yelped and gave one wail and won savage, whispered curses from the groom and I was afraid her foot had been crushed. But apparently she had not been seriously hurt, only hurt, and she limped on after us till I recollected myself and had the sense to give her Urns.

There were pools soon, as well as patches of grass, between the boulders; we splashed into them and emerged dripping. The water weeds tangled and left leafy souvenirs in our sandals.

When the sky was still black, but in the blackness before the dawn, we looked back as the first of the thousands of tiny lights approached uneven along the cliff road above us.

“It’s them,” I moaned.

“Ah, shut up,” said Blob, “wasn’t the army leaving at this time?”

There was soon the harsh sound I knew so well, the stirring aggregate sound of the moving army.

“You were too late,” I said, “to get those mules.”

Up above us, endlessly, passed the torches, the curses of men and leaders and riders, the clop and the clip of hooves, endless marching boots, rolling rocks, kicking boots, rumble of wheels, crick and crack of whips, creak of carts, barks of birds, neighs and snorts of horses, coughs of mules, resonance of metal. Still the army passed above us while we crouched down at the cliff-foot, among the boulders, and the little wind that skirls always before the dawn fled skirling after the darkness, and the darkness melted away leaving the stars till last. Big, big white stars; and you could see the smoke of the paling torches snaking up between them. It was still dark, not yet grey but less violently black. You could not make out the separate sight of these things above you, but you knew they were there. Up there He went, Zerd, the beautiful Enemy. Up there, went the playing entourage, the pink princess, the winegirls, the pages, the grooms. There went Zerd’s faithful commanders. There went the hostages’ carriages. There went Ooldra, unless she had already embarked on the long-planned magic of her miraculous escape. There went the men, all the regiments I knew, all the trundling dusty life I had grown into for months and which had grown into me, the only life I had ever known outside childhood’s tower.

I crouched with my head in Urns’ feathers, and found them moist.

A stone rolled and jerked over the cliff and fell into the abyss. A stone into an abyss was ending what it had begun. It hit another near us: there was a furious startled bark from Urns before I silenced him.