stream now ran down ©ne side of the tunnel, its waters hot and stinking. Isabeau followed it down into a great cavern, deep in the bowels of the mountain. It stretched as far as the eye could see, the stream widening into a chain of pools and small lo-chan that wound about among piles of gray ash and cinders. It was a most desolate scene, without the eerie beauty of the caves Isabeau was used to. The air was thick with fumes and she could see quite a few tunnels leading away, some glowing fiery red with puffs of evil, black smoke gusting out as if dragons slept within.
She did not know which way to go. Until now the route had been clear, for the tunnel had run down without any branches. Now Isabeau had to pick her way through the pyres of gray-black ashes, exploring each antechamber and tunnel in turn. Instinctively she kept away from the ones spitting sparks, choosing those that seemed safer. Buba flew ahead of her, saving her much time by discovering many dead ends. Some of the corridors ran for some distance before ending. In one Isabeau found a skeleton still dressed in rotten leather and fur, his horned skull fallen onto his chest as if the pile of bones merely slept, his staff resting between the bones of his hands.
She made the sign of Ea's blessing, the fingers and thumb of her left hand meeting in a circle, and crossed with one finger of her right. Then she hurried back down the tunnel, hoping she would find her way free soon and without any more horrible discoveries. The Khan'cohban children had been making the dangerous journey through the mountain for many years however, and there were remains of those who had failed everywhere. Some were recent and these were the most shocking. Isabeau found panic was welling up in her throat, clouding her judgment and making her hasty and anxious. She had to force herself to rest and eat again, and drink tea made from the hot, bitter water, and find somewhere safe to sleep.
She slept uneasily and woke in a sweat of terror. As there was no difference between night and day in the darkness of the caves, Isabeau got up and kept on walking, desperate to be free. She found a tunnel without obstacles or dead ends and her pace quickened. Buba was also uneasy and flew ahead, hooting occasionally in distress. The sound of her hoots echoed alarmingly and Isabeau had to bite her tongue to stop from snapping at her to be quiet.
The caves were different now, the walls of coarse granite and much broken. It was cold and the breathing sounds had changed, become recognizable as the roar of water. Isabeau's step quickened till she was almost jogging. She came out in a wide low cavern with a river that pounded through in a surge of foam and roiling gray waters. Isabeau's witch-light looked frail and small in that immense darkness. She saw, far away, a bobbing ball of orange flame and knew someone else was ahead of her, scrambling over the rocks in a desperate attempt to be free of the mountain. She followed the flaming torch and saw it pause as its carrier became aware she was there.
It was her friend from the river, the horned boy from the Pride of the Gray Wolf. His grim dark face lightened when he saw her and he made the gesture of greeting. "You have survived the eating by the gods then?"
"So far," Isabeau replied in his language and sat down beside him with a sigh. "Though I hope we are near the end for I fear I shall go stark staring mad if I do not see daylight soon."
He was uncomfortable, not recognizing the mordant humor of her words. "It has been known for madness to affect the name-questers but I hope this does not happen to you."
"So do I," Isabeau said, too tired to smile. He shared some of his bread and dried fruit with her and she ate gladly, sick of the bitter taste of bark and winter nuts. It was comforting to have company in that roaring darkness, and so they sat in silence for some time, half dozing despite the discomfort of the rough, wet rocks and the noise of the
She did not know which way to go. Until now the route had been clear, for the tunnel had run down without any branches. Now Isabeau had to pick her way through the pyres of gray-black ashes, exploring each antechamber and tunnel in turn. Instinctively she kept away from the ones spitting sparks, choosing those that seemed safer. Buba flew ahead of her, saving her much time by discovering many dead ends. Some of the corridors ran for some distance before ending. In one Isabeau found a skeleton still dressed in rotten leather and fur, his horned skull fallen onto his chest as if the pile of bones merely slept, his staff resting between the bones of his hands.
She made the sign of Ea's blessing, the fingers and thumb of her left hand meeting in a circle, and crossed with one finger of her right. Then she hurried back down the tunnel, hoping she would find her way free soon and without any more horrible discoveries. The Khan'cohban children had been making the dangerous journey through the mountain for many years however, and there were remains of those who had failed everywhere. Some were recent and these were the most shocking. Isabeau found panic was welling up in her throat, clouding her judgment and making her hasty and anxious. She had to force herself to rest and eat again, and drink tea made from the hot, bitter water, and find somewhere safe to sleep.
She slept uneasily and woke in a sweat of terror. As there was no difference between night and day in the darkness of the caves, Isabeau got up and kept on walking, desperate to be free. She found a tunnel without obstacles or dead ends and her pace quickened. Buba was also uneasy and flew ahead, hooting occasionally in distress. The sound of her hoots echoed alarmingly and Isabeau had to bite her tongue to stop from snapping at her to be quiet.
The caves were different now, the walls of coarse granite and much broken. It was cold and the breathing sounds had changed, become recognizable as the roar of water. Isabeau's step quickened till she was almost jogging. She came out in a wide low cavern with a river that pounded through in a surge of foam and roiling gray waters. Isabeau's witch-light looked frail and small in that immense darkness. She saw, far away, a bobbing ball of orange flame and knew someone else was ahead of her, scrambling over the rocks in a desperate attempt to be free of the mountain. She followed the flaming torch and saw it pause as its carrier became aware she was there.
It was her friend from the river, the horned boy from the Pride of the Gray Wolf. His grim dark face lightened when he saw her and he made the gesture of greeting. "You have survived the eating by the gods then?"
"So far," Isabeau replied in his language and sat down beside him with a sigh. "Though I hope we are near the end for I fear I shall go stark staring mad if I do not see daylight soon."
He was uncomfortable, not recognizing the mordant humor of her words. "It has been known for madness to affect the name-questers but I hope this does not happen to you."
"So do I," Isabeau said, too tired to smile. He shared some of his bread and dried fruit with her and she ate gladly, sick of the bitter taste of bark and winter nuts. It was comforting to have company in that roaring darkness, and so they sat in silence for some time, half dozing despite the discomfort of the rough, wet rocks and the noise of the
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