Many? the druid gasped.
The stone rumbled and pulled a term from Calvin's mind. Children, the stone replied. Many children. Up and down. Up and down. Always running up and down us.
Many?
Many, the stone repeated. Feet quickly grew, became larger, like yours. Then all but two feet go away. The stone paused, then added, But soon more pebbles came. They got larger, too, and disappeared. Now left with only two feet again-and yours.
The druid was confused. All but two? All but Drollo's two feet?
No, Galvin growled. You're remembering Drollo's children and his grandchildren. That was a long time ago.
Short time, the stone corrected.
Galvin chided himself wordlessly. Stone existed for an interminable time. The life span of a human could seem like mere moments to it.
Think, Galvin coaxed. The last two pebble feet.
Always up and down us.
Yes.
Smooth like us, the stone continued. Always stopping to… to… look at things resting on us.
The junk, Galvin clarified, picturing the mounds of debris stacked high against each railing.
Junk, the stone groaned. Yes. Can't see through it. Want it to go away.
Galvin sighed. I'll see what I can do, he offered. But first, help me. Those pebble feet, where did they go?
Moments ago, the stone began, choosing words from Calvin's mind. Pebble feet went up, up, up. Near the top, but not the top. Did not come back down.
So she's still in the tower, Galvin concluded, perhaps hiding on the second or third floor from the top. He was grateful he wouldn't have to search all the levels below. With luck, it wouldn't be long now and the girl would be safely back with Drollo.
The druid thanked the stone and began to separate his mind from the steps, when the marble added, A moment later the. . thing… came down and went away.
Thing?
The stone growled, loud enough that Galvin was certain even Drollo heard it. In the end, the stairway explained in simple terms that it had no words for what descended shortly after the girl climbed to the upper floors.
Is the thing here now? the druid continued.
No. Gone like all the pebble feet. Come and go. Up and down. Up. .
"Galvin? Galvin? Are you all right?" The words belonged to Drollo, who bent next to the druid, shaking him.
Galvin slowly opened his eyes, reluctantly discovering his connection with the steps severed. This was the longest conversation he'd ever managed with stone, and the effort had apparently caused him to pass out. He lifted a heavy hand to his throbbing head. His arm felt stiff, and his pallor was tinged with gray.
"Galvin?"
"I'm all right, Drollo. Let's go upstairs. I think we'll find Isabella there."
The old man beamed and helped Galvin to his feet. The trek up the stairs seemed a lengthy one to the druid; he paused at each landing to rest a moment. Drollo and Elias had no trouble keeping up with Calvin's sluggish pace. However, the druid had trouble keeping up with the old man's questions.
"So my steps told you she's up here?"
"Something like that," the druid answered.
"They saw her?"
"They paid more attention to her feet."
"Galvin, this is wonderful. After I have my Isabelle back, could you teach me to talk to the steps?"
"I'll think about it," the druid said flatly. Then a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "You'll have to clean them off before they'll talk to you, though."
"I can do that."
At the sixth landing Galvin looked out a thin window. It was dark outside, and the rain had stopped. The moon, high in the sky, was poking through the clouds. Gathering his energy, he climbed to the seventh landing and faced an opened door.
"Isabelle?" the druid called softly. "Isabelle?"
No answer.
Another search then, the druid decided. The weasel chit-tered animatedly, wrinkled its nose, then squeaked and began running about the jumble.
"Yes, you can help us look for her," Galvin sighed.
To the druid this room looked like the rest of Drollo's tower, packed with an assortment of oddities and lined with crates containing more unused things. It was as filthy as the other rooms, but Galvin could see patches where the dirt had been wiped free by small feet. He strode forward, Drollo shuffling behind him.
The dust on many of the small crates was dotted with tiny fingerprints. Packing material lay strewn about some of the crates, and the contents-a veritable treasure trove of useless objects-covered the floor. The druid noted that the crates were all labeled in flowing Elvish script. Intrigued, he began searching the room more carefully, paying attention this time to the words on each crate.
Behind him, Galvin heard Drollo rummaging around. Elias was searching, too. The weasel's plaintive squeaks nearly drowned out the old man's rustling.
At last Galvin's eyes settled on a particularly large crate set against a wall, one that had been pried open. There was little stuffing near it, so whatever had occupied the crate had likely taken up most of the space. He ran his fingers along the rough wood and read the Elvish label.
"Oh, no," the druid whispered.
"Isabelle!" Drollo continued to call.
"Drollo," the druid began. "Do you do any trading with the sea elves in the Dragon Reach?"
"No," came a muffled reply. The old man had his head stuck into a crate. "Well, at least not anymore."
"You did at one time?"
"Yes. Quite a few years ago. I don't go down to the shore much nowadays. The sea air makes my bones ache."
The druid scowled and reread the label. "Drollo, stop looking," he said quietly. "She's not here."
"We'll go on to the next room, then."
"No. She's not in the tower."
The old man's face turned ashen, and Galvin quickly added, "But I know where she went. Don't worry. I'll go get her."
"I'm-I'm coming with you," the old man stammered.
"Not where I'm going."
With that, Galvin bounded down the stairs. Elias was fast on his heels. When the druid reached the bottom of the stairs, he glanced back and saw Drollo just starting to descend.
"Stay here," he cautioned. "I'll be back with Isabelle."
Galvin hoped he sounded confident enough, because he wasn't sure he could locate the girl. Still, he didn't want the old man to follow him. Then he would have two people to worry about.
Throwing open the tower door, he ran out into the damp night.
"Your boots," he heard Drollo call.
But the druid continued to run. Boots were the last things he'd need where he was going.
Galvin angled his path away from the tower and toward the south. In the distance he heard waves washing up on the beach. Overhead, the clouds were thinning, pushed away by a freshening breeze. By the time the druid reached the beach the moon was fully visible, shedding light on the night-black waters of the Dragon Reach.
With shrinking confidence, Galvin ventured into the surf. The cool water swirled about his ankles, then his knees. A wave came in, splashing him thoroughly and plastering his leggings to him like a second skin. He waded out farther and began to concentrate.