They stood at the foot of a rock face which rose sheer above them to disappear into the mist, and their apparently indiscriminate positioning over the tumbling ground reminded Hawklan immediately of Pedhavin.
The resemblance ended there though as, unlike those on the Pedhavin houses, the roofs were very steep, with eaves that swept down past the walls as if anxious to usurp their function and fasten themselves to the ground. So steep were the roofs in fact, that little or no snow had stuck to them and even from a distance, the travellers could see ornate patterns laid out in the green and blue slates that covered them.
‘Home sweet home,’ Andawyr said, smiling broadly.
Most of the party tried to look enthusiastic, but whatever they had been expecting, a quaint hamlet of stone cottages was not it.
Inevitably it was Tirke who paved the way for the virtuous to follow. ‘Where are the caves?’ he asked Andawyr, almost querulously.
Andawyr fought off a smile and waved a casual hand in a direction well to the left of the village.
‘You surprise me, Helyadin,’ he said. ‘I’d heard you had quite an eye for such things. That’s a bit bigger than an Alphraan’s cave, isn’t it?’
Tirke followed the pointing hand and then cleared his throat awkwardly.
Looming through the rain-swept greyness was a dark shape in the rock face. It was so large that it made the village seem like a cluster of children’s toys, and several of the group closed and opened their eyes in an attempt to accommodate the sudden change in perspective.
Isloman threw back his head and laughed. ‘Never mind, Tirke,’ he said, laying a great hand on the young man’s shoulder. ‘If it’s any consolation, I didn’t see it either.’ And as he laughed again, the sound spread over his companions like sunlight bursting from behind a dark cloud.
Despite the enormous cave mouth nearby however, Hawklan still could not avoid a sense of anti-climax in finding that the home of the Cadwanol was no more than a mountain village, albeit with rather unusual architecture. He made no outward sign however, continuing to smile at Isloman’s merriment.
Unexpectedly, Dar-volci peered out from Andawyr’s robe. He gazed around for a moment, twitching his nose, then, grunting gruffly to himself, slithered down from the horse and lolloped off across the snow. ‘See you later,’ he shouted back over his shoulder, and suddenly, with a joyous whistle, he was gone.
Andawyr shook his head and smiled, but said noth-ing.
As they drew nearer to the village, Hawklan saw that the streets were empty but, quite suddenly, without any bell or other alarm apparently being sounded, people, hastily pulling on cloaks and capes, began to emerge from the houses and gather in the main street.
Andawyr dismounted as they reached the first houses and was immediately surrounded by the villagers. He shook the hands of some, embraced others, and generally talked to several people at once; there was much laughing and excitement. Guiltily, Hawklan found that his sense of disappointment was not lessened by the very ordinariness of these people.
Gradually, Andawyr managed to bring about some semblance of order to the small crowd, then he gestured the others to follow him and set off up the winding main street through the village. Hawklan and Isloman exchanged glances as they set off again; despite the haughty appearance of the strange high-pitched cottages, and the towering proximity of the great rock face, the village at close quarters was even more like Pedhavin, save for the absence of carvings filling every blank wall.
The villagers walked alongside the group like smil-ing flank guards, though none made any attempt to speak to the new arrivals.
Andawyr eventually stopped outside a building which, like others nearby, was built hard against the looming rock. Some of the villagers ran forward to drag open two large wooden doors, and Andawyr gestured his companions inside.
As the doors closed behind them, Hawklan and the others dismounted and looked around. It was a large barn, high roofed and airy, with one side occupied by a great haystack which filled the air with a characteristic mixture of freshness and mustiness. Along the other side were stalls for the horses, and an assortment of rakes, pitchforks, ropes and harnesses, and many other pieces of farming paraphernalia.
Gavor thrust his head out from Hawklan’s cloak, and with a cheery croak, flapped up to one of the high roof beams. As he landed he disturbed a small flurry of dust which floated lazily down through the still air.
Hawklan looked up at him and noticed that though the place was well lit, he could see no lights of any kind.
‘Unsaddle your horses and rub them down,’ An-dawyr said, taking a host’s command over the hesitating group. ‘There’s plenty fodder and water for them here and there’ll be plenty for us when we’ve finished.’
‘Are we going to walk to the caves?’ Isloman asked, gesturing vaguely towards the doors. ‘It looked to be quite a distance.’
Andawyr looked puzzled for a moment, then, reali-zation dawning, he shook his head. ‘Ah, you mean the cave, just outside the village,’ he said, his two hands drawing out a great arch through the warm, comforting air. ‘No,’ he went on, disparagingly. ‘That’s just to impress visitors. The Caves proper are well hidden. Don’t worry, you won’t get wet reaching them.’ He chuckled to himself then set about unsaddling his horse. ‘Come on, I’m hungry,’ he said.
Though none the wiser, his guests followed his en-thusiastic example. It took some time to dry off the horses, but no one seemed inclined to hurry. It was the first time that any of them had been in a building other than a tent or shelter since they had left Orthlund and, humdrum though the place was, its large, warm space gave it a distinctly luxurious aura.
The task eventually done, and the horses feeding contentedly, all eyes turned to Andawyr expectantly. He gestured to a small battered door at the rear of the barn. It looked as if it might be the entrance to a disused storeroom.
‘Don’t worry about the lights as you step through,’ he said, struggling with the latch. ‘They’re rather bright and you may have difficulty seeing clearly. They need adjusting. Just walk straight ahead to the far door and go through it, I’ll be with you in a moment.’ The door creaked open and a brilliant light flooded through the opening, causing some gasps of surprise from the watchers. The barn around them was plunged into gloomy unreality by contrast, and Gavor’s black shadow expanded across the roof space as he glided silently down to join the others.
‘They certainly do need some adjusting,’ said Islo-man, laughing, as he lifted a hand to shield his eyes, but Andawyr made no acknowledgement other than to shepherd them all urgently through the doorway. As Hawklan passed behind the others, Andawyr stepped after him and pulled the door shut.
The barn became real again; rich with warm odours and silent except for the occasional clatter of a horse’s hoof on the stone floor.
After a few short paces through the dazzling bright-ness, the group passed through a second door and emerged into a long corridor, blinking and laughing like bewildered children. A soft echoing ring sounded as each came through the doorway.
Waiting to meet them were two old men, dressed in simple white robes such as Andawyr wore, but noticea-bly less untidy.
‘Philean, Hath,’ Andawyr said, smiling broadly as he stepped forward and took their extended hands. ‘It’s good to see you both manning the fort so well. And it’s good to be back. Have you water and soaps and warm towels for your beloved leader and his guests?’ He closed his eyes rapturously.
The larger of the two Cadwanwr looked at him sternly. ‘You were ever a hedonist, Andawyr,’ he said. ‘But in deference to the rigours your brave companions have been through, we’ve prepared a modest greeting for them which we hope will meet with their approval.’
‘Lead on, lead on,’ said Andawyr unrepentantly, waving his arms enthusiastically. ‘I’ll introduce everyone as we go.’