"Who is ever without blemish?" she asked.

"It wasn't a blemish," said Talen. "River used the word 'twisted.' "

"Indeed," said the Creek Widow. "When talking about a weave, twists are very specific patterns of power." She grasped him gently by the chin and forced him to look at her. "Besides, all of us, lad, are broken. Don't worry about your limits. Worry about what you choose to do or not do despite those limits. You are Hogan's and Rose's boy. You have been bred to power and packaged with a few surprises. And if you turn out to be a crooked arrow"-she grinned-"well, they have their uses as well."

Yeah, he thought. Crooked arrows were chopped up for kindling.

"Talen," she said and gently stroked his cheek. "Trust your mother. Trust her. If she had thought your abilities posed some great danger, would she have died to save you?"

That gave him reason to pause. Would his mother have killed him? Or would she have saved him, unwilling to see his flaws? He had so many questions. So many he wished he could ask Mother. He glanced at Sugar. He wondered if her mother had worked magic on her as well.

The Creek Widow placed the wrapped crown back in the saddlebag. "We'll find the others at the refuge. It requires a trio to awaken this crown. And when it awakens and covers your da in its mantle, then we shall go hunting."

"And if we cannot rescue him?"

"Then we shall work around our limitations."

LIKE A SPIDER.

H.

unger had been right: the female's trail was easy enough to pick up again. She'd gained a few hours on him, but he'd made most of that up. More important, the Mother was pleased with him.

Hunger had found the Koramite in the buttery of an old Fir-Noy hunting lodge. The Koramite had been burning his magic, but the king's collar about his neck only shunted it off like a fat stovepipe.

It had been easy to take him. Almost all the Fir-Noy guarding him had run. One guard in the cellar had tried to kill the Koramite, but Hunger had wrenched the guard's arm loose and left him screaming.

Unlike the guards, the Koramite had not run. He had risen and stood before Hunger, the king's collar about his neck glinting in the light. The collar had not tempted him. It only brought to his mind the pain of losing his son. But the Koramite was now safely stowed in the Mother's cave. And Hunger was on the trail of the female. He'd find the others and the remaining members of his family would be released.

Hunger tracked her up one hill and around another. He tracked her past a farm he recognized as belonging to a woman called Matiga, yet another member of the Order. He'd searched the place. Pockets of stink hung here and there, but he found nothing but a dog and a few chickens. So Hunger continued on.

The female had joined up with others, one of which had to be Matiga, for he'd smelled her all over the farm. The whole lot were moving south. In the back of his mind he knew that was significant, but not until he entered a small kidney-shaped vale did he know why. He recognized this vale from the memories he'd obtained by eating Larther, and the memory made Hunger tremble with delight.

He was in the finger of hills that ended at Boar's Point. And not far from that point, in a small, narrow valley hidden in the finger, lay the Order's refuge. It was a cave located at the foot of a large, steep hillside. He could see it in his mind's eye: less than a mile away, through this small vale, up over the saddle between the two hills, and then down into the next valley.

That is where the female and Matiga were going. There the Order would have chambers and rooms, barrels of beans and grainy honey, water from the mountain, and an immense stone to cover the mouth of the cave. It had a place for horses. The Order could live there for weeks on end. Why hadn't he thought of this before? Of course this is where they'd go.

He would find them there. He would find all all of them there. of them there.

Up ahead he heard sounds. Voices. The female and her group were only a few hundred yards away.

Hunger thanked the Creators-his opportunity to free his family had come.

There was a trail that wound through the vale, an animal trail that broke off of the one that ran along by the creek. It would take him to the refuge, but he knew another way. A faster way along the cliff. He would hasten to the refuge. And when they arrived, he would be waiting for them.

The refuge had two ways in and out. The mouth, at the base of the hill, and a bolt-hole dozens of yards above on the slope. The Order covered both entrances with large stones. Doing so kept it tight and hidden from man and beast.

Hunger approached the upper exit from above, carrying an enormous log. This he carefully placed on top of the stone already covering the bolt-hole. It would take two or three of them, multiplied, to push that off.

Then he quietly descended the slope. When he reached the base, he caught the faint scent of wood smoke.

The best place to catch one of the Order was in the cave, all bottled up like flies. He stood for a long time looking for the watch they'd surely posted. But he saw nobody on watch.

Hunger approached, picking his way around the brush and trees, avoiding the spots where Zu Hogan had pointed out the cleverly concealed trip lines, and soon stood before the mouth of the cave. A man was burning a small fire inside, Hunger could smell it.

Something moved in the brush behind him. He turned, expecting the watch, but instead saw a small herd of deer moving through the trees off to the right.

Hunger looked about once more, then silently slipped into the cave.

The first chamber was where they kept livestock. It was wide, large enough to hold a dozen horses, but there were no horses, no goats, nothing but a large pile of hay by the stalls. He looked up the corridor that led to the second and third chambers. The far chamber was dark, but the flickering orange light of a fire spilled out of the door to the second chamber and played on the rock wall of the corridor.

Hunger went back to the entrance, took hold of the large squarish covering stone, and pushed it back into place, closing off any escape.

"Who's there?" A voice from the second chamber.

Hunger walked through the first chamber and to the entrance of the second.

Ke, Zu Hogan's son, stood above a small fire over which he roasted three rabbits. He held a knife in one hand, staff in the other. Hunger, as Larther, had been clouted by that staff more than once in weapon's practice. Ke was powerful and fast. Deadly.

"Who are you?"

Hunger could not answer. He simply stepped into the small light.

Surprise flashed across Ke's features, but he just as quickly recovered and with blinding speed threw his knife.

It buried itself in Hunger's eye. He did not expect the pain that shot through him. He thought he was beyond pain. Yet this did not debilitate him. It was strong, but dull, and he shrugged it off.

Ke took advantage of his hesitation and darted past him toward the mouth of the cave.

Ke was fast, but not as fast as River. Hunger ran after him. He caught him at the entrance by the shoulder and whipped him around.

Hunger expected Ke to try to free himself, but Ke grabbed Hunger by the neck and crotch instead. He lifted Hunger and cast him against the wall of the cave.

Ke was always the one to try something surprising. And it had always worked. But not this time.

Ke pushed the stone covering the entrance.

Hunger lunged forward and latched on to Ke with both hands. Then he swept Ke's feet out from under him, dropping Ke like a stone.

Hunger landed atop Ke and knocked out his breath.

There is no escape, thought Hunger. Not for you, brother. Not for me.

Ke struggled mightily, but Hunger bound him as he had his sister, then he tied him up with a rope. He laid Ke in the third chamber where they kept the beans and water, then went back to the mouth of the cave and shoved the rock aside to open it for the others.

He looked about, considering the best place to hide. Then he looked up. Hunger climbed up the wall to the high, sloped ceiling above the mouth of the cave, up into the inky dark. And there he clung, waiting like a spider for the others to enter his trap.

Talen followed the Creek Widow to the bottom of a narrow valley between two steep and stony hills. Dawn had not yet broken, but the sky had lightened, and he could see the valley well enough. He'd been up now for twenty-four hours and was exhausted. The woods broke on a clearing that began by the brook and ran halfway up one of the hills.

"Here it is," she said.

"Here?" asked Talen. Such a clearing couldn't provide much protection. He thought she'd said it was a cave. But he could see none. "What do we do, hide under the bushes?"

"Yes, Talen," she said. "That's what the great minds of our Order came up with. Hide under the bushes." She shook her head and led him through the waist-high brush to the steep and stony base of the hill.

Talen thought that maybe they'd dug some cellar in the valley floor, then the Creek Widow turned a corner around a tall seam of stone running dozens of yards up the hill and disappeared.

"Goh," he said. He arrived at the place where she vanished and found a jagged cleft in the seam of stone. Before him stood the mouth to a cave, a wan light glowing inside.

"Bring the Tailor in here," said the Creek Widow from inside.

The mouth was barely wide enough for the horse, but it was not tall enough to allow a mounted man to pass through. Sugar untied Legs and helped him down. Then the three of them entered.

This first chamber stretched perhaps two dozen feet wide. He looked up into the blackness but could not see the ceiling. A light came from a chamber down a short corridor.

"Can you see this in full daylight?" he asked.

"Not unless you're right upon it," she said. She pointed at a large stone behind him. "And that's only when the stone is removed. Replace the stone and this cave doesn't exist."

Something popped. It sounded like green wood in a fire. "Hello?" he said, hoping to hear Ke's voice. But there was no reply.

"You'll find this a comfortable place," said the Creek Widow. "There's no vermin that gets in here. No rats. And there's a spot where the water drips clear and cold."

Around the corner from the mouth lay some horse stalls and a crib of hay. The Creek Widow held an armful of hay and put it at the head of one stall. "Bring him over here. I'll rub him down. You three go see who's here. And get a place to rest while you can."

"Where do you keep the food stores?" asked Sugar.

"I'll worry about that," said the Creek Widow.

Talen was more than happy to oblige. He walked to the lit chamber, but found no one, just a fire burning low in a hearth. Sugar and Legs joined him. He wondered where the smoke from this fire went. There must be a hole somewhere up above. But if no vermin could get in, that mean they had to have a cap for it. If not, this refuge wasn't bottled up as tight as the Creek Widow would like to think. Three rabbits stretched out on forks above the fire. The meat wasn't burned, but it was getting close. To the side he saw Ke's pack.

"It's Ke," Talen called out for the Creek Widow. Then he squatted by the rabbits. "Looks like we've got us a snack."

Knowing that Ke was here sent a surge of relief though him. He did not know until then how helpless he had felt. He put down his bow and removed the quiver of arrows he'd strapped to his waist. Then he squatted close to the fire, and with his knife, skewered one of the carcasses and removed it from the cooking fork. He peeled off a tender piece of loin and stuck it in his mouth. "Not too dry yet." He turned to Sugar and and held the roasted carcass to her.

Legs sniffed. "That had better not be rat."

The Creek Widow cursed. At least, that's what he thought it sounded like. The Tailor had probably pooped on her feet. He smiled to himself thinking of that. Old Lady Brown Toe. He'd give her a ribbing about that.

"Oh, it's rat," said Talen. "Nice and plump. You get the tail."

"Don't believe him," said Sugar and twisted off a piece of meat for her brother.

Talen fed the fire and ate his share of the meat. Nobody said anything while they ate. But when he'd finished, he said, "Where do you think the Widow's gone? It doesn't take that long to put away a horse."

"Maybe she went to the privy," said Legs.

"Probably," said Talen. "And while she's away, I'm going to see what else they have here to eat." He could barely muster enough strength to fight his fatigue, but he stood. At one end of this chamber stood a table and some shelves. He grabbed an oil lamp from the shelf and lit it. Then he walked out into the corridor.

"Aunt?" he said.

The flame guttered in a breeze that he hadn't noticed before. The Creek Widow did not reply, so he headed farther into the cave. The corridor sloped upwards. The flickering lamp cast odd shadows on the wall. Maybe two dozen yards farther he came to what had to be the third chamber. He held the lamp high and saw barrels of food. But it was all grains and dry stuffs, including rope, arrows, and cord.

He exited the room. He was too tired to cook grains, but at least he could get a drink. The dripping rock must be farther up the corridor. He climbed, found the dripping rock, and satisfied his thirst. The corridor took a sharp turn upwards at this point and someone had carved steps into it. The Creek Widow had told him there was an escape route out the back. This must be it.

Despite his weariness, his curiosity took him up the stairs. It wasn't too long and he found the exit. Another large stone sealed it, but it too had been moved aside. He left the lamp burning below and climbed through the exit and out into a cluster of rocks to stand on the side of the hill some distance above and to the right of where he estimated the mouth of this refuge to be. He wondered why the exit was open. Maybe the air in the cave had been stale. It certainly created a nice breeze through the corridor.

Except he was sure there had been no breeze before. "Ke," he called out into the night. There was no response, nothing but the sound of night insects.

Talen turned round, picked up his lamp, and went back down the stairs. He took another drink at the dripping rock and noticed this time that the water from the rock ran into a fissure that ran a dozen feet along the side of the path.

He passed Sugar and Legs by the fire. When he reached the first chamber, he found the Tailor standing in his stall, saddle still on his back. That was bad form. The Creek Widow could have held her business until she'd unsaddled him. He wondered where the privy was. It certainly couldn't be a formal thing. She'd probably just taken a spade with her out the exit.

Talen walked over to take care of the Tailor, but when he got close he kicked something in the dirt. He bent over and picked it up. It was her codex of lore.

Then he saw other things scattered about.

"Aunt?" he called.

Nothing.

He walked over to the mouth of the cave and stood listening. He scanned the clearing, stepped farther out and looked up the hill. Nothing but the insects, the stars, and the moon shining down from the west.

The Tailor might have simply knocked over one of the bags. Or perhaps Ke had returned with something urgent. It was possible. But not likely. She wouldn't just run off.

"Aunt?" he called out again.

When she did not reply, he took his lamp, held it low, and searched the ground.

He found Ke's knife, which was odd. He identified all their footprints. There were five of them. Then he saw a sixth. Talen bent low and measured it with the span between his thumb and pinky finger. It was mishappen and large. Larger than any human's could possibly be.

He knew immediately what it belonged to.

He raced back to the corridor. That thing had been here. A worse idea shivered him. It might be feeding on the Creek Widow at this very moment somewhere outside. Or had it returned?