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als scraped on rock； found purchase of a kind。 As he had hoped； the steepness of the cliffside here was not quite too much for human hands and feet。 Ben let go of his grip on the edge and found places lower down where he could hang on with his hands。 Then he tried to extend his feet downward once more。
Now； when he could have used some lightning to see by； it had ceased almost entirely。 Ben clung to one rock after another that he could barely see； working his way slowly down the cliff。 And even more slowly he made some progress to the south along its face。 For the present he could no longer hear the dragon。 It might have given up on chasing him。 Or it might not。 They were like that； unpredictable。
With no lightning in the sky； the ocean a hundred meters down was pletely invisible。 Just as well； no doubt。 But Ben could still hear its waves； rending themselves on rock。 Breathing devout prayers to Ardneh and to Draffut； those two most merciful of gods； groping for one handhold and foothold below another； half expecting each moment to be his last； Ben fumbled his way down the face of the cliff toward the absolute darkness of the sea。
Chapter 2
The tall young man stood on the bank of a small； muddy stream； looking around him uncertainly in bright sunlight。 Even in broad day； and even with the distant mountains in the east to give a landmark； he could not be sure that the village he was looking for had ever existed on this spot。
Still； he was almost sure。
He could remember that most of the surrounding territory had once been prosperous farming and grazing land。 No more。 It was largely abandoned now。 And here； where the Aldan had once run clean and fair； this mucky and unrecognizable stream now followed a strangely altered course through a sadly altered countryside。 Even the distant mountains bore new scars。 So much had everything changed that the young man remained uncertain of precisely where he was until his eye discovered a portion of a remembered millwheel sticking up out of a bank of earth amid the dried stalks of last year's weeds。
Only one corner of one broad wooden blade was visible； but the young man knew what it was at once。 Staring at that cracked and splitting wood； he let himself sink down on the ground beside it。 This sitting was the heavy movement of an old man； though the youth could hardly have been more than twenty at the most。 His tanned face under its ragged growth of beard was still unlined； though from the expression in which it was set it seemed that lines ought to be there； and already the blue…gray eyes were old。
The bow and quiver that rode on the young man's broad back looked well…used； as did the long knife sheathed at his side。 He might have been a hunter or a ranger； perhaps a military scout。 Parts of his clothing and equipment were of leather； and some of these might once have been ponents of a more formal soldier's outfit。 If so； their identifying colors had long since been cut or bleached away。 The young man's hair was moderately short； as if it might be in the process of growing out from a close military or priestly cut。
He now put out a hand； large and tanned deeply like his face； and as rough…worn as his clothing。 With it he touched the visible corner of the decaying millwheel blade。 He let his hand rest there briefly on the old wood； as if he were trying to feel something in it。 Meanwhile he raised his eyes toward the eastern mountains。
There was a faint sound behind the young man； as of someone or something moving through the thicket there to the west。 He turned quickly； without getting up； then sat still； watching the thicket carefully。 In his position he was half hidden by the rise of the earthen bank。
Presently a half…grown boy dressed in ragged homespun emerged from the scrubby growth of bushes。 The boy was carrying a pail crudely fashioned out of bark； and was obviously ing to the stream for water。 He was almost at the water's edge before he caught sight of the motionless young man watching him； and came to a vaguely alarmed halt。
An Emperor's child for sure； the young man thought； surveying that small dirty figure in wretched clothing。 〃Hello； young one；〃 he said aloud。
The boy did not answer。 He stood there holding the empty pail； shifting his weight from one bare foot to the other as if uncertain whether he ought to run away or try to go on about his business。
〃Hello； I say。 Have you been living around here very long？〃
Still no answer。
〃My name's Mark。 I mean you no harm。 I used to live near here myself。〃
Now the boy moved again。 Still keeping a wary eye on Mark； he waded into the stream。 He bent his head to fill the pail； then looked up； tossing back long greasy hair。 He said： 〃We been here a year now。〃
Mark nodded encouragingly。 〃Five years ago；〃 he said； 〃there was a whole village here。 A big sawmill stood right about where I'm sitting now。〃 And he moved a hand in a vague gesture that ought to have included the village street。 Only five years ago； he marveled silently。 It seemed impossible。 He tried without success to visualize this boy as one of the smaller children in the village then。
〃That's as may be；〃 the boy said。 〃We came here later。 After the mountains burst and the gods fought。〃 〃The mountains burst； all right；〃 Mark agreed。 〃And I don't doubt that the gods fought too。。。 what's your name？〃 〃Virgil。。。〃
〃A good name。 You know； when I was your size； I played here along this stream。 It was a lot different then。〃 Mark felt a sudden need to make someone understand just how totally different it had been。 〃I swam here； I caught fish。。。 〃
He broke off。。。 Someone else was ing down through the thicket。
A woman emerged； as ragged and dirty as the boy。 Her walk was the walk of age； and much gray showed in her disordered hair。 A dirty bandage covered both her eyes。 Mark could see the ends of scars showing past the edges of the cloth。
Just at the edge of the thicket the blind woman halted； one hand touching a bush … as if by that means she could assure herself of her position。 〃Virgil？〃 she called out。 It was a surprisingly young voice； and it carried fear。 〃Who's there？〃
〃One lone traveler； ma'm；〃 Mark called in answer。 At the same time the boy replied with something reassuring； and came out of the water with his filled pail。
The woman turned her face in Mark's direction。 There were indications in that face that she was still young； even evidence that a few years ago she might have been called pretty。 She called toward Mark harshly： 〃We don't have much。〃
〃I don't want anything you have。 I was just telling the young man that I used to live nearby。〃 Virgil put in： 〃He says he was here five years ago。 Before the mountains burst。〃
Mark was on his feet now； and approached a little closer to the woman。 〃I'll be going right along； ma'm。 But could you tell me one thing first； maybe？ Did you ever hear any word of the family of Jord the Miller？ He was a big man with only one arm。 Had a wife named Mala and a daughter； Marian； real blue…eyed and fair。 Daughter'd be in her twenties now。 They lived right here on this spot； fiv