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Binabik nodded。 〃She speaks truth to you。 Escaping is not enough for us。 We have need of finding our way out from this place。〃
The dwarrow did not reply； but looked to her husband who was limping up the passageway toward them； trailed by the last of the dwarrows and Cadrach。 The monk's face was ashen； as though he had been wounded； but Miriamele saw no injuries。 She turned away； unwilling to waste sympathy on him。
〃They are a distance behind us； now；〃 said Yis…fidri wearily。 〃They seem full content to let us run ahead。〃 He leaned back against the wall； letting his head rest against the stone。 Yis…hadra went to him and probed gently with her wide fingers at the arrow wound in his shoulder。 〃Sho…vennae is dead； and three others；〃 he groaned； then fluted a few words to his wife； who gave a cry of grief。 〃Smashed like delicate crystals。 Gone。〃
〃If we had not run； they would all be dead anyway… and you and the rest of us would be； too。〃 Miriamele paused to fight back her anger and her horror of the pursuing Norns。 〃Forgive me； Yis…fidri。 I am sorry about your people。 I am truly sorry。〃
Sweat beaded on the dwarrow's brow； glimmering in the light of the batons。 〃Few mourn for the Tinukeda'ya；〃 he replied softly。 〃They make us their servants； they steal from us the Words of Making； they even beg our help when they are in need…but they seldom mourn us。〃
Miriamele was ashamed。 Surely he meant that she was as guilty of using the dwarrows…and Niskies； too； she thought； remembering Gan Itai's sacrifice…as even their one…time masters； the Sithi。
〃Take us to where we can reach the world above；〃 she said。 〃That is all I ask。 Then go with our blessing； Yis…fidri。〃
Before the dwarrow could reply； Binabik suddenly spoke up。 〃The Words of Making。 Were all the Great Swords being forged with these Making…Words？〃
Yis…fidri looked at him with more than a little suspicion； then winced at something his wife was doing to his shoulder。 〃Yes。 It was needful to bind their substance…to bring their being within the Laws。〃
〃What laws are these？〃
〃Those Laws that cannot be changed。 The Laws that make stone be stone； make water be water。 They can be 。 。。〃 he searched for a word； 〃stretched or altered for a short time； but that brings consequences。 Never can they be undone。〃
One of the dwarrows at the rear of the tunnel spoke anxiously。
〃Imai…an says he can feel them ing；〃 Yis…hadra cried。 〃We must run。〃
Yis…fidri pushed himself away from the tunnel wall and the group began its uneven progress once more。 Miriamele's weary heart was racing。 Wouy there never be an end to this？ 〃Help us reach the surface； Yis…fidri；〃 she begged。 〃Please。〃
〃Yes！ It is more than ever important！〃
Miriamele turned at the distraught tone of Binabik's voice。 The little man looked terrified。 〃What is it？〃 she asked him。
Sweat was running on his dark forehead。 〃I must think on this； Miriamele； but I have never had such fear as I do now。 For the first time I believe I see behind the shadow that has been all our consideration； and I am thinking… Kikkasut！ To be saying such words！…that the monk may have spoken rightly。 There may be nothing left for our doing at all。〃
With those words hanging in the air； he turned from her and hastened after the dwarrows。 As though his sudden despair had passed to her like a fever； she felt hopelessness enwrap her。
29
The Hand of the North
The winds howled around Stormspike's summit； but beneath the mountain all was silent。 The Lightless Ones had fallen into a deep slumber。 The corridors of Under…Nakkiga were nearly empty。
Utuk'ku's gloved fingers； slender and brittle as cricket legs； flexed upon the arm of her throne。 She settled her ancient bones against the rock and let her thoughts move through the Breathing Harp； following its twistings and turnings until Stormspike fell away and she became pure mind moving through the black between…spaces。
The angry Dark One was gone from the Harp。 He had moved himself to the place…if it could be called a place…where he could act in concert with her to enact the final step of their centuried scheme； but she could still feel the weight of his hatred and envy； personified in the net of storms that spread across the land above。
In Nabban； where the upstart Imperators had once ruled； snow piled high in the streets； in the great harbor high waves flung the anchored ships against each other； or drove them into the shore where their splintered timbers lay like the bones of giants。 The kilpa； frenzied； struck at everything that moved across the water； and even began to make sluggish forays into the coastal towns。 And deep within the heart of the Sancellan Aedonitis； the Clavean Bell hung silent； immobilized by ice just as the mortals' Mother Church was frozen by fear。
The Wran； although its interior was sheltered from the worst of the storm； nevertheless turned chillingly cold。 The ghants； undeterred as a group； though countless individuals died in the harsh weather； continued to boil out of the swamps and harry the coastal villages。 Those few mortals of Kwanitupul who braved the icy winds to walk outside went only in groups； armed with iron weapons and wind…whipped torches against the ghants who now seemed to be crawling in every shadowy place。 Children were kept inside； and doors and windows were shuttered even during those few hours when the storm abated。
Even Aldheorte Forest slept beneath a blanket of white； but if its ageless trees suffered beneath the freezing hand of the North； they did so in silence。 In the heart of the woods Jao e…Tinukai'i lay empty； misty with cold。
All the mortal lands lay trembling beneath Stormspike's hand。 The storms kept Rimmersgard and the Frostmarch an icy wasteland； and Hernystir suffered only a little less。 Before the Hernystiri could truly reclaim the homes from which they had been driven by Skali of Kaldskryke； they had been forced back into the caves of the Grianspog。 The spirit of the people the Sithi had loved； a spirit which had flamed high for a short time； sank back to a guttering flicker。
The storm hung low over Erkynland。 Black winds bent and broke the trees and piled snow high on the houses； thunder growled like an angry beast up and down the length of the land。 The storm's malevolent heart； as it seemed； full of whirling sleet and jagged lightning； pulsed above Erchester and the Hayholt。
Utuk'ku noted all this with calm satisfaction； but did not pause to savor the terror and hopelessness of the hated mortals。 She had something to do； a task she had awaited since her son Drukhi's pale； cold body had been set before her。 Utuk'ku was old and subtle。 The irony that it was her own great…great…grandchild who had led her to her revenge at last； that he was also a scion of the very family that had destroyed her happiness； was not lost on her。 She almost smiled。
Her thoughts raced on； out along the whispery threads of being until they passed into the farther regions； the places only she of all the living could go。 When she felt the presence of the thing she sought； she reached out for it； praying to forces that had been old in V