The climb wore on, and the light faded. Once the sun was down, it would be pitch-black on the cliffs and any sort of progress would become very dangerous. She might summon magic to light the path, but doing so would reveal them to anyone who might be looking. She felt her frustration growing. Perhaps she should have waited until morning after all.

They reached the first series of caves and began to wind their way along the twisting trail that led past them. Now and then, Skint would drop to his knees to study the ground or examine the rock. At several entrances he paused as if he were considering going inside. Each time, he moved on. Khyber glanced upward along the cliff face. There were more openings ahead, all still higher up.

“This one?” she said to the Gnome at one point, pausing at a broad, high entry that seemed a perfect hiding place.

Skint made a sour face. “You wouldn’t like what you’d find in there, Ard Rhys. Be patient. Leave this to me.”

They trudged on, working their way back and forth past dozens of cave entrances. Not once did Skint suggest they enter one, or ask for illumination. Overhead, the clouds remained thickly massed and impenetrable. West, the sun had dropped behind the horizon, leaving little more than a thin wash of golden color.

Finally the Tracker stopped at what appeared to Khyber to be just another cave entrance, knelt to study the ground, and then said, “Here.”

“He’s inside?” Farshaun asked.

Skint nodded. “Should be. Call out to him and see.”

“Speakman!” Farshaun shouted into the cave entrance, standing close, leaning in. “Are you there? It’s Farshaun Req!”

Silence. They waited a few minutes, and then Farshaun called out a second time. Still nothing. More time passed. It was nearly dark now, the last of the light faded away. Khyber was growing impatient.

Then from somewhere back in the cave’s blackness, a voice whispered suddenly. “Farshaun?”

“It’s me,” the old man answered. “I’ve brought someone who wants to speak to you. Can she come in and do so? It’s very important.”

“I don’t like speaking to other people.” The voice was soft and whispery, the soft sound of clothing being unfolded, hardly more than that. “I won’t speak to anyone but you.”

“You can speak to me, but she has to hear you, too. She’s a Druid and she’s searching for something you might be able to help her find. She’s had a vision.”

“A vision?” Khyber caught a note of interest in the paper-thin voice.

“She needs you to interpret it for her. There’s no danger in this. You know I wouldn’t bring trouble to your doorstep. Now, talk to us. Just to her and me.”

Another long silence. Then a light flared back in the darkness, its source a mystery. “Just you and her. No one else.”