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prey to the terrors of precisely the sort of place where they were now。 Had he not been so anxious not to lose face among the other corans and his baron and the big； capable； grimly sardonic northern mercenary Mallin had brought to lead and train them； Luth would certainly have found a way to back out of the mission when he was named for it。
He should have； he thought dismally。 Whatever status that withdrawal would have cost him was as nothing pared to how he'd be diminished and mocked because of what had happened tonight。 Who would ever have thought that simple piety； a prayer of thanks to holy Rian herself； could get a person into so much trouble？ How should a high country man know how bizarrely far sound…a murmured prayer！…could carry at sea？ And Hirnan had hurt him with that pincer…like grip of his。 The oldest coran was a big man； almost as big as the bearded northerner； and his fingers had been like claws of iron。 Hirnan should have known better； Luth thought； trying to summon some sense of outrage at how unfair all of this was turning out to be。
He jumped sideways again； stumbled； and almost fell。 He was grappling for his sword when he realized that it was Vanne who had e up to him。 He tried； with minimal success； to turn the motion into one of alertly prudent caution。 Vanne； his face blandly expressionless； gestured and Luth bent his head towards him。
〃I'm going down to check on them again；〃 the other coran said； as Luth had despairingly known he would。 〃Remember； a corfe whistle if you need me。 I'll do the same。〃 Mutely； trying to keep his own expression from shaping a forelorn plea； Luth nodded。
Moving easily； Vanne negotiated the plateau； grasped the rope and slipped over the side。 Luth watched the line jerk for a few moments and then go slack as Vanne reached the rocks at the bottom。 He walked over to the tree that Maffour had tied the rope to and knelt to run a practised eye over the knot。 It was fine； Luth judged； it would continue to hold。
He straightened and stepped back。 And bumped into something。
His heart lurching； he spun around。 As he did； as he saw what had e； all the flowing blood in his veins seemed to dry up and change to arid powder。 He pursed his lips and tried to whistle。 Like a corfe。
No sound came out。 His lips were dry； as bone； as dust； as death。 He opened his mouth to scream but closed it silently and quite suddenly as a curved； jewelled； inordinately long dagger was lifted and held to his throat。
The figures on the plateau were robed in silk and satin； dyed crimson and silver； as for a ceremony。 They were mostly women； at least eight of them； but there were two men besides。 It was a woman； though； who held the crescent…shaped blade to his throat。 He could tell from the swell of her body beneath her robe； even though she was masked。 They were all masked。 And the masks； every one of them； were of predatory animals and birds。 Wolf and hunting cat； owl and hawk； and a silver…feathered corfe with golden eyes that glittered in the moonlight。
〃e；〃 said the priestess with the blade to Luth of Castle Baude； her voice cold and remote； the voice of a goddess at night。 A goddess of the Hunt； in her violated sanctuary。 She wore a wolf mask； Luth saw； and then he also realized that the ends of the gloves on her hands were shaped like the claws of a wolf。 〃Did you truly think you would not be found and known？〃 she said。
No； Luth wanted frantically to say。 No； I never thought we could do this。 I was sure we would be caught。
He said nothing。 The capacity for speech seemed to have left him； silence lying like a weight of stones on his chest。 In terror； his brain going numb； Luth felt the blade caress his throat almost lovingly。 The priestess gestured with a clawed hand； in response； Luth's feet； as if of their own will； led him stumbling into the night forest of Rian。 There were scented priestesses of the goddess all about him as he went； women masked like so many creatures of prey； clad in soft robes of silver and red amid the darkness of the trees； with the pale moon lost to sight； like hope。
ing back through the forest； Blaise felt the same rippling sensation as before through the soles of his boots； as if the earth here on the island had an actual pulse； a beating heart。 They went faster now； having done what they had e to do； aware that the priestess by the garden might be missed and found at any time。 Blaise had dropped back to let Hirnan； carrying the unconscious poet； guide them once more； with a sense of direction seemingly unerring in the darkness of the woods。
They left the forest path and began to twist their way north again through the densely surrounding trees； small branches and leaves crackling underfoot as they went。 No moonlight fell here； but they had their night vision now； and they had been this way before。 Blaise recognized an ancient； contorted oak； an anomalous sight in a strand of pine and cedar。
Shortly afterwards they came out of the woods onto the plateau。 The moon was high overhead； and Maffour's rope was still tied around the tree； their pathway down to the sea and escape。
But neither Vanne nor Luth was anywhere to be seen。
His pulse prickling with a first premonitory sense of disaster； Blaise strode quickly to the edge of the plateau and looked down。
The sailboat was gone； and the two bound clerics with it。 Their own skiff was still there； and Vanne's body was lying in it。
Beside Blaise； Maffour swore violently and made his way swiftly down the rope。 He sprang over the boulders and into the skiff； bending quickly over the man lying there。
He looked up。 〃He's all right。 Breathing。 Unconscious。 I can't see any sign of a blow。〃 There was wonder and the first edge of real apprehension in his voice。
Blaise straightened； looking around the plateau for a sign of Luth。 The other corans stood in a tight cluster together； facing outwards。 They had drawn their swords。 There was no sound to be heard； even the forest seemed to have gone silent； Blaise realized； with a tingling sensation along his skin。
He made his decision。
〃Hirnan； get him into the skiff。 All of you go down there。 I don't know what's happened but this is no place to linger。 I'm going to take a fast look around； but if I can't see anything we'll have to go。〃 He glanced quickly up at the moon； trying to judge the hour of night。 〃Get the skiff free and give me a few moments to look。 If you hear me do a corfe cry start rowing hard and don't wait。 Otherwise； use your judgment。〃
Hirnan looked briefly as if he would protest but said nothing。 With Evrard of Lussan slung over his shoulder like a sack of grain； he made his way to the rope and down。 The other corans began following。 Blaise didn't wait to see them all descend。 With the awareness of danger like a tangible presence within him； he drew his sword and stepped alone into the woods on the opposite side of the plateau from where they'd entered and returned。
Almost immediately he picked up a scent。 Not of hunting cat or bear； nor of fox or badger or boar。 What he smelled was the drifting fragrance of perfume。 It was strongest to the west； away from where they had gone。
Blaise knelt to study the forest floor in the near…blackness。 He wished Rudel were with him now； for a great many reasons； but in part because his friend was the best night tracker Blaise had ever known。
One didn't have to be expert； though； to realize that a pany of people had passed here only a short time before； and that most if not all of them had been women。 Blaise swore under his breath and stood up； peering into the darkness； uncertain of what to do。 He hated like death to leave a man behind； but it was clear that a large number of priests and priestesses were somewhere ahead of him in the woods。 A few moments； he had told Hirnan。 Could he jeopardize the others in an attempt to find Luth？
Blaise drew a deep breath； aware once again now of that pulsing in the forest floor。 He knew he was afraid； only a plete fool would not be afraid now。 Even so； there was a core truth at the root of all of this for Blaise of Gorhaut； a very simple one： one did not leave a panion behind without an atte