The early morning was crisp but without wind or piled cloud, promising a day that would be like an oasis in a desert of tempests this winter. As Korbillian, Guile, Sisipher and the youth, Wolgren left Sundhaven, a few villagers watched secretly. Sisipher felt a stab of regret as she waved to her father, but soon the snow-hung mountains rose before her, not daunting, but somehow enticing her. Wolgren picked his way like a goat along sloping tracks up into the scree and snow-drifts, watching for boulders and outcrops that he read as clearly as signposts along the way. Guile whistled cheerfully to himself, but Korbillian was silent. The terrain did not trouble him, but his thoughts did.

Sisipher found herself wishing that the gift she possessed would allow her to read minds, to understand the truth of Korbillian's quest. She knew that there was a great fear in him, a dread that this path he had chosen would lead to ruin. Even so, she had been unable to refuse to go. As the wind came back gently from above, reminding her of the bleakness of the task, she clung to her intuitive faith in her own course. Something, she knew, waited beyond the mountains for her. Her only regret was her father's sorrow: her going must have seemed like a betrayal to him, yet he understood, or seemed to. Now I have cast my lot with a stranger, a man from a place of which I have never heard. I trust his power, yet why should I? She looked ahead at Wolgren. He, too, had thrown in with the stranger without a second thought. With a smile to herself, Sisipher recalled that the boy had done this before he had known that she would be going. She knew that she could rely on his help during a crisis, although he was so young!

Little was said on the ascent, as every effort was needed for the arduous climb. However, by mid morning Wolgren had successfully guided them high up the mountain, following paths they would not have seen or expected to find here. When the party elected to pause briefly, they looked back to see low cloud veiling most of the coastline and sea. Sundhaven was hidden by a shoulder of rock. Wolgren found a cluster of boulders that he considered safe and he motioned them to sit, evidently enjoying his position as guide.

'If a storm comes upon us,’ he told Korbillian seriously, ‘or if there is a heavy snowfall, I fear we will not reach the pass of the Mountain Owls.’

Surprisingly Korbillian did not seem at all perturbed by the boy's anxiety. ‘We need not fear the weather,’ he said as he sat. He did not amplify his odd remark, gazing instead out into the cloud.

Sisipher, who sat beside Guile, was not so sure. ‘Can he predict the storms, or is he able to control them?’

Guile grinned. ‘Can you not see ahead for us?’

He was teasing her, and she turned away, not sure yet if she liked or disliked him. She ought to be fair, she thought. ‘I can't see everything. Just fragments, and not always when I choose.’

Guile saw that he had offended her and sought to make amends. ‘Korbillian is no sorcerer. Such gifts as he has he controls adeptly, it is true. Though I am determined to help him and take up his cause, I know very little about him. I joined him by instinct, just as you have. But I trust him.’

Sisipher softened a little and turned back to him. ‘We must all be a little mad to follow him.’

Guile chuckled. ‘Yes. Best not to brood on the darker side of our quest. The eventual goal is so remote that I won't allow it to worry me yet. Besides, we must find allies! Perhaps when we at last reach this place of evil, we will have enough support to make a formidable force of ourselves.’

'I think we will grow, yes,’ she nodded, as though trying to reach far ahead with her mind.

'I'm sure we will not find the elements against us. If they come, as they did at sea, they will hit a wall, for Korbillian seems immune. He and I should be drowned, or frozen. Even here, though, I do not feel the cold as I ought. And you?’

She shook her head. ‘No. Not cold.’

'Korbillian has told me a little about power as he knows it. He says that Ternannoc and Omara, and the other worlds are all alive, like single organisms. All life on each world is no more than a part of that world, the common bond being power, the life force. Korbillian had power on Ternannoc, for its people had attuned themselves very closely to their world and were able to draw on its life force at will. Here he has found it harder, for he is not of Omara, but he has learnt to attune himself to it.’

'And I?’ she said softly. ‘What am I?’ She was almost too frightened to ask.

'From the words spoken last night, it seems you have your mother's gift. You are from another village.’

'I've never seen it since we left it. I was three. I hardly remember my mother.’

'If I make a guess about her, will you not consider me rude?’ For once his face was serious. She shook her head. ‘Many people came here from Ternannoc as refugees. Your mother was probably—almost certainly—descended from them. Thus you would have the life force of Ternannoc in you, as well as that of Omara, through your father. You are, in some ways, stronger than Korbillian, and far stronger than I am.’

She looked away, not angry but afraid. Had her father known this? Why had he not told her? But he would have feared for her and could never have foreseen what her future held for her.

A cry from Wolgren alerted her. Guile drew his sword awkwardly as he jumped up. Wolgren was pointing at the sky, visible through a gap in the clouds. They could see what appeared at first to be a dark cloud, passing quickly, but parts of it swirled and detached from it so that they realised in a moment that these were birds, countless thousands of them.

'Is it not early for migrations?’ said Korbillian to the youth. Both were amazed by the sheer numbers, as the cloud streamed endlessly by.

Wolgren was scowling. ‘I've seen many flocks this winter, but this is the largest. Some of the birds are unlike any I've seen before.’

'Where do they go?’

'Out to sea. After that, who can say? This is the first winter they have come.’

'From the east?’ said Korbillian, but it was not really a question. Wolgren nodded and the party moved on. It was a long time before the cloud of birds had gone.

High up in the mountains, the visibility restricted, they wound between jagged peaks, Wolgren still sure of the way. The winter night fell upon them quickly and they selected an overhang and made themselves as comfortable as they could. They ate sparingly and said little. Sisipher wondered about the youth. He seemed very sure of himself and his knowledge of the terrain was surprising. To her each mountain looked alike, each valley a replica of the next. By the time she fell asleep, Guile was snoring and Wolgren's head had dropped onto his chest.

It seemed no more than a moment before she woke again, and yet it was daylight. The weather had still not broken. Wolgren was beyond the overhang, gently exercising and studying the white landscape. It was not easy to see far ahead as cloud covered nearly everything. Sisipher was struck by the absolute silence, conscious of the lack of whispering sea. The party seemed very closed in.

'The pass is like a saddle,’ said Wolgren as they chewed a fish breakfast. ‘I've never been far into it, but it should be passable if the snow hasn't drifted too badly. Usually the wind sweeps it clear. It's more exposed, so if a storm does come, we may have to turn back.’

Korbillian shook his head. ‘We cannot go back. Time now is against us.’ He turned to say something to Sisipher, but she was very still, her face white. ‘What is it? What have you seen?’

She was breathing heavily as if she had been running. ‘We can't go that way,’ she gasped, pointing up the valley.

'We have to.’ said Wolgren, dropping down beside her.

'No,’ she insisted. ‘There's blood up there.’

'Has there been a fight?’ said Guile, also beside her.

Wolgren gripped his knife. ‘An ambush?’

'It hasn't happened yet,’ Sisipher told them. ‘But there will be blood spilled.’

'Whose?’ said Guile, exchanging a worried look with Wolgren.

'I don't know.’

'Do animals hunt here?’ asked Guile.

'Mountain Owls do,’ Wolgren nodded.

'It's human blood,’ whispered Sisipher.

They turned to Korbillian. “Do not press her,’ he said. ‘We must prepare, that is all. The way ahead for us will always be dangerous. Look to your weapons.’

Sisipher nodded. ‘Yes, we must go on. I cannot see the way back to Sundhaven, but there is a strangeness about it. All is not well, I sense it.’

None of them really wanted to know more: her knowledge was too disturbing. Instead they shouldered their packs and kept their weapons to hand, moving on with additional caution.

After an hour they had made good progress up the valley towards a gap in the peaks. The snow was much harder underfoot than Sisipher would have expected; it was packed and firm and she thought about Guile's words of yesterday. How much control did Korbillian exercise? Again, the cold did not seem to bite as it should, and the day, though full of cloud that drifted mistily around them, was mild.

They reached a dip in the valley and an exposed, flattened area. Sisipher stopped, her blood running cold as she looked around her. It was a bizarre feeling, for the future superimposed itself over the present. She could see patches of blood, shreds of cloth, feathers all around, and yet it was not now. ‘Wait,’ she called, and at once was ringed. ‘It is here,’ she said, describing the scene.

'Let us get away quickly,’ urged Guile. ‘It may not happen to us.’

'Can you see anything on the slopes below us?’ Sisipher asked. Wolgren ran back a little way at once, but when he returned, declared there was only the mist.

'How far to the pass?’ Korbillian asked. The cloud had dropped over them and visibility closed in. Now the cold did come, like the sea.

'Not far,’ promised Wolgren, eagerly leading on. They moved as fast as they could without exhausting themselves, aware that exhaustion would be their most dangerous adversary.

They had left the place of blood some distance behind when a sound made them look up as one. It was the beating of wings, several pairs, and all of them evidently very large. Quickly they drew together, dropping their packs and gripping their weapons. They could see no more than a few yards into the drizzling cloud, but the wings could be heard on all sides. Silence came again.

'Mountain Owls,’ whispered Wolgren. ‘No other birds are so large.’

'Are they dangerous?’ said Guile softly.

'I've never been close to one. They're not said to attack people, but then again, they are said to be imaginary, like your master's powers.’ Wolgren grinned as he said it, and Sisipher wondered if this was why he had come, to show them that he had been here, and did not lie about things he had seen. In Sundhaven, only the young children had believed his tales.

Korbillian admonished them to be still, but Wolgren, surprisingly, ignored him. He moved out of the tight circle and spoke to the silence. ‘I am here again, Lords of the Sky. You've watched me before. You know I mean no harm. Will you let me pass?’ He deliberately sheathed his knife. Sisipher shuddered—the boy was an open target for any attack.

In a moment, the beat of wings returned, and from the mist came what appeared at first to be a huge shape. It flew over them and then back, alighting on the snow a few yards before Wolgren. Now that it was plainly visible, they could see that it was not huge, although it stood half Wolgren's height, the largest owl they had ever seen. It was almost pure white, with a tightly curved beak and wide, staring eyes that looked at them with an expression that suggested extreme shock. It spread its magnificent wings, shot with gold, turning its head almost arrogantly to study each of the four humans. Those deep eyes blinked, and it settled, just as though preparing to sleep. Sisipher noticed its sharp talons, but there was no blood.

Wolgren was about to speak to the bird as if he thought it would understand him, but Korbillian gently moved a step ahead of him. ‘It's quite safe,’ he breathed, then turned slowly to the others. ‘I know these birds. They are not native to Omara.’

'Ternannoc?’ said Guile.

Korbillian almost smiled. ‘I think so. And I think I know who brought them here.’ He turned back to the great Mountain Owl and stared at it. Its eyes opened and fixed his eagerly. Then it spread its wings and gave voice to a sudden piercing cry, taking to the air and swooping around the group in tight circles. Guile ducked instinctively, wary of sudden deadly talons, but Korbillian was moving again, untroubled. ‘They are not here to harm us. We must follow them.’

If Sisipher had looked on the bird in wonder, Wolgren considered it worthy of worship. He could hear the beat of wings around them and his heart leapt. To think that these glorious birds could be allies! Eagerly he followed, and though the owl that led them was mostly out of sight above, they could hear its cry.

They travelled quickly up into the high pass, and the way became even more obscured. Wolgren said they seemed to have taken a branching gully upwards from the main pass, towards the highest part of the range. ‘To the Lord of the Mountain Owls?’ he asked.

'Yes,’ said Sisipher. ‘Korbillian, isn't that what they're telling us?’

Korbillian nodded. ‘It must be. It is he who brought them. Their kind has served him for many years, as once others served him.’

'A Hierarch?’ ventured Guile.

Korbillian seemed aggrieved. ‘No, no. And not a man who had respect for them.’

'Will he help us?’

'Perhaps.’ But the word had the weight of despair.

An hour later they were above the cloud, with jutting peaks on all sides. A dozen huge Mountain Owls circled them like guardians, and the leader dropped, perching on a boulder that partially obscured a fissure in the rock wall behind it. For a moment the bird watched them, then gave another sharp cry. Behind it, from the tall crack, emerged a figure. Dressed in a long cloak that was made of a strange light pelt, it was very tall and thin, and its face was narrow with a beak-like nose that was immediately comparable to the beak of the owls. It was difficult to guess the man's age, but he moved with jerky steps, very light and agile, and seemed nervous, ready to spring away at a second's notice. Somehow there was an air of anger about him, a coldness.

Korbillian moved forward, but the owl cried out as if in a warning to him. ‘Ratillic,’ he said. ‘It has been a long time.’

'When I knew you were coming, it was not easy to decide whether to have my children lead you over a precipice, or bring you to me.’ He had not even glanced at the others.

'I am on a mission of peace.’

'I have no interest in your mission.’

'Then why did you bring us here?’

Ratillic's claw-like hands closed tightly on themselves, just as the owl's claws would grip their prey. ‘I see everything in these mountains,’ he said, apparently changing the subject. ‘Why are you here? I cannot believe you have chosen to exile yourself, as I have.’

'I have to pass through to the east, and quickly.’

'The east? Why?’ He seemed suddenly interested, suspicious.

'There is work to be done there. I may need your help.’

Ratillic's derisive laugh unsettled the owls about him. ‘Mine? Spare your breath, Korbillian. Oh, it may suit me to have you guided through to the other side of the mountains, but that's all. You'll get no further help from me.’

Korbillian seemed to accept that, but Guile looked angry. ‘What makes you so averse to us?’ he snapped. ‘You know nothing about us or our intentions.’

Ratillic's hands clenched and unclenched. ‘You are Guile, from the Chain of Goldenisle.’

Guile grunted as if he had been punched. ‘Yes, but—”

'And I see Wolgren of Sundhaven. And Brannog's girl. Strange company you keep, girl.’

'The owls told him,’ said Sisipher.

Ratillic looked at her and snorted. ‘They are my eyes, my ears.’

'And they speak to you,’ she added.

He seemed to respect her for her observation. ‘After a fashion.’

'You have not lost your old skills, then,’ commented Korbillian.

'No. Have you? I see your hands are sheathed. Do they frighten you?’

Korbillian winced, and Sisipher intervened, sensing a harsh exchange. ‘If your owls are wise,’ she said, ‘then they'll know you have no reason to fear us.’

'Is that so!’ Ratillic snapped.

'Ratillic,’ Korbillian cut back. ‘The past is gone. You must think of the future. Ternannoc is dead. Would you see Omara die, too?’

The Lord of the Mountain Owls looked horrified. ‘Omara? What are you saying? Why should Omara perish?’

'The shock waves of Ternannoc's death still break, even on these far shores. There is a city in the east, built on a great mound that has thrust up from the earth there. Under it festers the dark power that took root there when Ternannoc's masters opened the world-gates.’ Korbillian did not need to say more.

Ratillic looked appalled. ‘Even here?’ he gasped. ‘But it was so long ago—”

'I am sworn to destroy this evil,’ said Korbillian.

Ratillic gazed at him as if he had not heard. ‘With what?’ he growled when he had recovered a little of his composure.

Korbillian turned to his companions. ‘There are four of us. We need far more. Without help, Omara is doomed. And there are no more gates, Ratillic, no exits from this world. This time we either stand and help each other, or it is the end for us all.’

Ratillic's face darkened, as if he had been deeply insulted, and Sisipher thought that he would set the owls upon them all. Yet he seemed to wilt under Korbillian's challenge. ‘I see,’ he said quietly. ‘An ultimatum. We are all responsible, is that what you are saying? Ternannoc could have been saved if we'd all poured power into her to stop her wounds?’

'We can never know that. But Omara will die if I cannot gather enough help to save her.’

Ratillic closed his eyes, but opened them again, having come to some private decision. ‘You cannot cross the mountains yet. There is another storm coming. From the east. Which means it will be bad. My eyes are turned to the east for much of the time. I should have guessed. Disease, storms, rumours of lurking evil. Well then, come inside.’ He said something to the white owl, and at once it flew off, calling to its fellows.

Ratillic led them into the mountain and they went down a smooth-sided shaft and rough-hewn steps. Sisipher wondered who could have cut them. Ratillic had power, perhaps, but somehow the steps seemed incredibly old. There was a door beyond, and after that, to their surprise, what appeared to be more of a hall than a cave, and it had been kept in immaculate condition. There were tapestries, rugs, exquisite furniture, all of a quality that would not have been misplaced in a palace. Wolgren in particular looked amazed, but shielded his reaction quickly. He accepted that there must be powers at work here beyond his understanding.

Above them, sleeping silently on beams that were as thick as a man's waist, were owls, and although they evidently spent much time here, there was no mess, and everything was tidy and organised. Ratillic motioned his guests (Sisipher was still not sure if the word was accurate) to some of the splendidly carved seats, and they sat. Korbillian followed Ratillic to a large chest beyond which several strange globes illuminated the hall.

Sisipher turned to Guile. ‘He hates Korbillian, doesn't he?’

'So it would seem. There are many things about Korbillian I know nothing about. I have often wondered what part he played in the fall of his world. I don't know the real story.’

'Do you think he was a Hierarch?’

'I have thought that, but have never asked him. Some things weigh him down like lead. Guilt, I think.’

Korbillian returned to them while Ratillic disappeared. The owls above automatically opened their eyes and watched the people below.

'He is arranging for us to have food,’ said Korbillian.

'Can we trust him?’ said Wolgren unexpectedly, and his right hand fiddled with his knife hilt.

Korbillian made a dismissive gesture. ‘He could have killed us all easily if he had wanted to. But I think he will help. He told me he had felt something was very wrong in the east. I have merely confirmed his fear. The evil has to be opposed. What differences there are between us have to be put aside. He is wise enough to understand that.’

When Ratillic returned, he held a large dish of meat. It was raw. ‘I assume you will want this roasted?’ he said. Nobody answered, and he grinned unpleasantly, deliberately pulling a small piece of meat off the rabbit carcass and chewing it slowly while they watched. ‘It is good. Fresh,’ he told them. ‘Taken by the owls this morning.’ He pointed to the remains of a fire by one of the walls. ‘Make what preparations you will. I cannot offer you wine, but there is fresh spring water if you need it.’

Sisipher asked Wolgren to help her with the food and he leapt to her aid at once. In minutes he had a fire going, the smoke curling up the flue behind the wall, and Sisipher had the meat turning nicely in the flames. Guile watched her avidly, marveling at the lines of her face, careful not to let her see him.

'What do you know of the east?’ Korbillian asked Ratillic as they all sat around the large table.

'My owls do not go there any more. Only one has ever been beyond the Silences, the great deserts. How he managed to return here in his condition is a mystery. He died soon afterwards. He was unable to say much about what he saw there, but it would trouble the dreams of a stronger man than me. Yet still I did not suspect the truth.’

'You spoke of lurking evil,’ said Korbillian. ‘Does it have a name, a shape?’

'I think not. But like a disease, it contaminates all that go near it. If there is life in the east, it has changed.’

'Can you teach us the way to this eastern city? Have you maps?’

Ratillic smiled, but the air of contempt had not left him. ‘My maps are unique in all Omara. Unique and priceless. I would be a fool to pass on the gift of the owls, the mapmakers. But I can show you how to reach the city.’

'Is that the only help you will give us?’

'And what else should I give you? Provisions, weapons?’ Again he laughed. ‘The power to destroy?’

'I am no warrior,’ said Korbillian levelly. ‘Yet this blight has to be razed.’

'I've nothing to give you.’

'The maps. You have detailed maps. I have to find as many allies as I can. Your maps will be as detailed as your fabled maps of Ternannoc once were. That was your skill, your power, was it not? To use the birds of the air and the creatures of the land? Pity that you had so little use for men!’

'I did not use them! I make no demands. I am not their master.’

Korbillian nodded patiently. ‘But the maps.’

'And should I give them to you freely and bless you and say, “Here, Korbillian, go out and use these wisely. Free Omara. Return them to me when you are done"?’

'Are there no copies?’

'Copies! Each map takes years to compile! Who has time to make copies? No, there are none.’

'Then I need the originals.’

'And if I refuse?’

'That is your choice.’

Korbillian glared at Ratillic. ‘You seem to care about Omara.’

'Of course! But what can one man do against that place in the east. Ternannoc was not saved.’

Wolgren's stare was even angrier than the girl's. ‘Let me persuade him,’ he said to Korbillian.

Ratillic chuckled. ‘So the cub has fangs, eh?’

Korbillian shook his head. ‘No, that is not the way. But consider, Ratillic, if you know the extent of this evil, you must see the wisdom in opposing it.’

'I have only your word that you oppose it. Perhaps you are its servant.’

Korbillian's face darkened, even in this dim light. ‘That remark was not worthy even of you, though I should have expected no better from someone who has spent a lifetime cowering away from his responsibilities.’ There was an edge to Korbillian's voice, which spoke of the hidden power he could command, and his companions sensed danger in it.

Ratillic looked no less angry. ‘Very well. Since you insist. I have considered. I will give you what you ask—for a price.’

'Which is?’

Ratillic looked deliberately at Sisipher. ‘Leave the girl with me.’