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"The next omen," Glenshadow's voice was as thin and
cold as windblown snow. "A portent of great evil."
Something voiceless and terribly sad seemed to say,
"The time comes," and Chess glanced around.
"Hush, Zap," the kender said. "Spells should be seen
and not heard. Look, Chane... now where did the
dwarf go?"
Again the Irda tilted her lovely head, as though listen-
ing. Glenshadow glanced at her and frowned. 'What is
it? What do you hear, Irda?"
She shook her head, silver hair dancing in the light
that again came from two moons. "Evil," she sang softly.
"In the north an evil lives, and one of evil sings. Ogres
gloat and goblins march... and I hear the sound of
WlllgS.
'Where in blazes did that dwarf get off to?" Chestal
Thicketsway was prowling the clearing, peering here
and there. He looked upward then, and blinked. "Oh.
There he is. Chane! You, Chane Feldstone! What are you
doing up there? I already tried that. You can't get to the
top!"
The others looked, too. High above them, moving
with the steady, solid rhythm of a climbing mountain
dwarf, Chane was approaching the top of the monolith.
"You're about to run out of ladder!" the kender
shouted. "Take my word for it, that's a waste of time.
You can't get to the -"
The Irda moved close to him and rested a graceful,
powerful dark hand on his head
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