Late that afternoon he rose, donned a cloak, gathered the cane he now carried, and went out. He limped through the water and mud and drizzle till he reached a point overlooking the Great Tragic River.

It was in flood, as always. Its bed had continued to shift. After a time he cursed, smote an old oak with his cane, and turned back.

The day had gone grey with the hour. It would be dark before he got home.

"Damned complications," he muttered. "I never counted on this. What the hell am I going to do?"

Take the high risk. The one chance he wished most to avoid, though its possible necessity was his real reason for having wintered in Oar.

For the first time in years he wondered if the game were worth the candle.

Whatever his course, it would be dark before he got home.

Chapter Sixteen:
THE PLAIN OF FEAR

You get mad and walk out on Darling, you can miss a lot. Elmo, One-Eye, Goblin, Otto, those guys like to bait me. They were not about to clue me in. They got everybody else to go along. Even Tracker, who seemed to be taking a shine to me and chattered at me more than everybody else combined, would not drop a hint. So when the day came, I went topside in total ignorance.

I'd packed the usual field gear. Our traditions are heavy infantry, though mostly we ride these days. All of us are too old to lug eighty pounds of gear. I dragged mine to the cavern that serves as a stable and smells like the grandfather of them all-and found that not one animal was saddled. Well, one. Darling's.

The stable boy just grinned when I asked what was going on. "Go on up," he said. "Sir."

"Yeah? Rotten bastards. They play games with me? I'll get them. They damned well better start remembering who keeps the Annals around here." I bitched and moaned all the way into the pre-moonset shadows that lurked around the tunnel mouth. There I found the rest of the outfit, all already up, with light gear. Each man carried his weapons and a sack of dried food.

"What you doing, Croaker?" One-Eye asked with suppressed laughter. "Look like you're taking everything you own. You a turtle? Carry your house on your back?"

And Elmo: "We ain't moving, boy. Just going on a raid."

"You're a bunch of sadists, you know that?" I stepped into the wan light. The moon was half an hour from setting. Far, Taken drifted on the night. Those son-of-a-bitches were determined to keep a close watch. Nearer, a whole; horde of menhirs had gathered. They looked like a graveyard out on the desert, there were so many of them. There were a lot of walking trees, too.

More, though there was no breeze, I could hear Old Father Tree tinkling. No doubt that meant something. A menhir might have explained. But the stones remain close-mouthed about themselves and their fellow species. Especially about Father Tree. Most of them won't admit he exists.