‘What did you learn?’ Hawklan prompted gently after a moment.
Andawyr looked at him, his face slightly surprised as if expecting to find himself somewhere else.
‘I’m not sure,’ he said, then, though no one re-proached him, he added. ‘It was an experience beyond ordinary words. No simple, clear-cut conversation… ’
‘Speak what comes to you, Cadwanwr.’ Gulda’s voice was hauntingly gentle and patient.
‘They know of the danger,’ Andawyr said, his face rapt with concentration. ‘They too seek Ethriss, for they fear that alone they are not enough.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘I think they are… scattered,’ he said. ‘I think they are one with their creations. It’s a great strength and a great weakness. I don’t think they will ride among us in Narsindal.’
‘You know this?’ Gulda said, again with great gentle-ness.
Andawyr shook his head. ‘Their awareness of the danger and their search for Ethriss, yes, beyond doubt,’ he said. ‘But the other, the scattering, has only just come to me.’
‘What do you mean, a great strength and a great weakness?’ Hawklan asked uncertainly.
Andawyr frowned. ‘If they pervade the earth, the air, and the water,’ he said, his voice distant and preoccu-pied. ‘That would be a strength because they could not be defeated without great, perhaps total sacrifice by the Uhriel. A sacrifice I doubt they’d be prepared to make, for they are the way they are because of their all-too-human lust for being.’
Dar-volci stirred restlessly.
‘And the weakness?’ Hawklan pressed, gently.
Andawyr’s voice was still distant when he answered. ‘They will have lost their ability to… move, or to move quickly. To place their power wherever the Uhriel threaten. If my feeling is right, then while perhaps they cannot readily be overwhelmed by Sumeral, I fear they cannot readily come to our aid in battle.’
Hawklan frowned. ‘Why would they have become this way?’ he asked.
Briefly, a look of irritation passed over Andawyr’s face. ‘I don’t know!’ he said sharply. ‘I… we… touched their hem-at their gift became them for some timeless moment. I couldn’t interrogate. I told you it was beyond words… ’
Hawklan raised his hand in apology and Andawyr’s tone softened.
‘Perhaps they thought Sumeral and the Uhriel truly died at the Last Battle,’ he said. ‘And that all that would be left to oppose would be the remains of Sumeral’s teachings that lingered in men.’ He shook his head. ‘Perhaps they needed peace. Who can say how they suffered in that conflict? I’ve no idea, Hawklan. Perhaps it’s no more than their true nature.’ He finished with a shrug.
‘But they look for Ethriss?’ Hawklan said.
‘Yes.’
‘Then they fear Sumeral, for all He may not be able to overwhelm them easily?’ Hawklan said.
‘They’re not invincible. Given time, and humanity out of His path, He could do anything,’ Andawyr replied.
Hawklan looked at the snow falling increasingly heavily outside, white in the light from the window. The path ahead of him seemed to be growing narrower and narrower.
‘If the Guardians are searching for Ethriss, then obviously they don’t know where he is,’ he said, his expression apologizing for the triteness of his remark. ‘But where can we begin to look if they can’t find him with their power and wisdom? Could he not, in fact, be dead; slain by Sumeral’s last throw?’
The flakes outside twisted and swirled as a breeze moved round the tower like the wake of a fleeing eavesdropper.
Andawyr nodded slowly. ‘Yes,’ he said quietly. ‘That’s possible, but I doubt it. That, I’m sure the Guardians would have known. And Sumeral certainly would have felt it. No, he’s alive, somewhere. Don’t forget, there are many places that lie beyond the writ of both the Guardians and Sumeral; both deep under-ground and, it would seem, deep inside the hearts of men.’
Hawklan turned away from him. ‘So even if he is alive, we’ve no way of finding him?’ he said, his voice chillingly final.
The room became very silent. Andawyr looked at the healer’s motionless figure.
Hesitantly, he said, ‘I don’t think that matters. I think that you’ll be drawn to him, just as you were drawn to this time and this castle, and towards his ancient enemy. You are the closest of all of us to the heart of this mystery.’
Hawklan frowned. ‘That’s no answer,’ he said an-grily. ‘And you know it. That’s a protestation of faith.’
The room became silent and still again, filled with Hawklan’s frustration. When he spoke again however, his voice was apologetic. ‘Not that there’s any harm in that if it sustains you, but it’s not enough. Certainly not enough to risk the lives of all our finest young men and women for-not to mention the Fyordyn and Riddin-volk who’ll be riding with us in due course, I’ve no doubt.’
‘Which brings us back to where we started,’ Gulda said. ‘Horses and men, swords and spears. What do you intend to do?’
Hawklan looked round at his friends and then at their images hovering in the deepening darkness beyond the window.
For a while, he did not speak, then he said, ‘Loman’s arrow injured Oklar profoundly. I saw it for myself and according to Arinndier’s account of what that Secretary… ’ He hesitated, at a loss for the name.
‘Dilrap,’ Gulda provided.
Hawklan nodded. ‘Secretary Dilrap said the arrow remained in his side, bleeding continuously.’ He laid his hand on his sword. ‘There’s a blade for every heart,’ he said. ‘And if Sumeral has come amongst us again as a man, and surrounded Himself with mortal armies, then He is not invulnerable, and He can look to face judge-ment, or die again as a man.’
‘You would call Sumeral to account?’ Gulda said, her eyes widening, almost mockingly.
‘If the opportunity presents itself, yes,’ Hawklan replied. ‘But I’d lose no sleep if I had to slaughter Him unshriven.’
Gulda wrinkled her nose disdainfully. ‘And pre-sumably you intend to ride to the gates of Derras Ustramel, like Eldric rode into Vakloss to confront Dan-Tor,’ Gulda said acidly.
Hawklan ignored the jibe. ‘I intend to enter Narsin-dal, quietly, while His attention is on the approaching armies,’ he said. ‘Move across it, equally quietly. And yes, enter Derras Ustramel and confront its tenant.’
Gulda opened her mouth to speak, but Hawklan stopped her.
‘I would take with me on this journey, if they wish to come, Isloman, Andawyr and our best Helyadin,’ he said. ‘And none must know of it.’
Gulda stared at him, her expression changed by Hawklan’s manner from almost contemptuous dismissal to one of concern.
‘Well, I suppose you’ve enough skills there to get you part way across Narsindal,’ she said, after a long silence. ‘But as for even reaching Derras Ustramel, let alone entering it and facing Him… ’ She left the reservation unfinished.
Hawklan met her gaze. ‘What alternative have we?’ he asked simply. Gulda did not reply. He turned to Isloman.
‘I’d rather die looking Him in the eye than hacked to pieces in some anonymous battle melee, or suffocating under a mound of bodies,’ said the carver. ‘Or worse, living to see those I love slaughtered while I stood by helpless. At least this time we’ll know what we’re walking into.’
Gulda shuddered involuntarily. ‘Not remotely,’ she said.
Isloman looked at her uneasily, and Hawklan scowled openly.
‘What alternative have we?’ he repeated, more strongly than before.
Gulda looked at Andawyr.
‘I’ll go,’ said the Cadwanwr, though his face was grey with fear. ‘Hawklan’s right. We have no alternative. In all our talking and conjecturing, you and I have contrived to avoid this truth most assiduously.’
Gulda looked down at her hands, toying idly with her stick.
For the first time since he had met her, Hawklan saw her truly uncertain.
‘But to go into His presence… ’ she muttered.
For a moment Hawklan thought he saw her face flushed, but before he could remark it properly she had pulled her hood forward and leaned back in her chair.
‘Gulda… ’ he said, concerned.