Ivor nodded an acknowledgment of the courteous proviso. No one spoke, though; they waited for Gereint.

Dave had still not gotten over the uneasiness he felt in the presence of this wrinkled ancient whose hollowed eye sockets seemed, nonetheless, to see into the souls of men and down the dark avenues of time. Cernan, god of the wild things, had spoken to Gereint, Dave remembered—and had called Tabor to his fast, to the animal they had seen in the sky. That thought led him to Ceinwen, and the stag in Faelin Grove. And this was his own dark avenue.

He turned from it to hear Gereint say, “We are going to need the Seer as well.”

“She hasn’t come yet,” Diarmuid said.

Everyone looked at Dave. “She was bringing someone,” he said. “She sent us ahead.”

“Who was she bringing?” the man called Tulger asked from beside Ivor.

But a rare discretion led Dave to murmur, “I think that’s for her to say, not me.” Ivor, he saw, nodded his agreement.

Gereint smiled thinly. “True,” the shaman said. “Although I know, and they have arrived by now. They were in Paras Derval before you left.” This was exactly what drove Dave crazy about Gereint.

Diarmuid didn’t seem bothered. “With Loren, probably,” he murmured, smiling as if at a jest. Dave didn’t get the joke. “Will you come then?” the Prince continued, addressing the shaman.

“Not to Paras Derval,” Gereint replied placidly. “It is too far for my old bones.”

“Well, surely—” Diarmuid began.

“I will meet you,” Gereint went on, ignoring him, “in Gwen Ystrat. I will leave tomorrow for the Temple in Morvran. You will all be coming there.”

This time even Diarmuid looked discomfited. “Why?” he asked.

“Which way did the wolves fly?” the shaman asked, turning unnervingly to where Tore sat.

“South,” the dark man said, and they were silent. There was a burst of laughter from the largest fire. Dave glanced over involuntarily and saw, with a sudden chill, that Liane was sitting next to Kevin, and the two of them were whispering in each other’s ears. His vision blurred. Goddamn that flashy skirt-chaser! Why did the slick, carefree Kevin Laines always have to be around to spoil things? Inwardly seething, Dave forced himself to turn back to the conclave.

“You will all be there,” Gereint was repeating. “And Gwen Ystrat is the best place for what we will have to do.”

Diarmuid stared at the blind shaman for a long moment. Then: “All right,” he said. “I will tell my brother. Is there anything else?”

“One thing.” It was Levon. “Dave, you have your horn.”

The horn from Pendaran. With the note that was the sound of Light itself. “I do,” Dave said. It was looped across his body.

“Good,” said Levon. “Then if the Seer is in Paras Derval I would like to ride back with you. There is something I’d like to try before we go to Gwen Ystrat.”

Ivor stirred at that, and turned to his elder son. “It is rash,” he said slowly. “You know it is.”