Hoyt took Hannah's arm. 'Hannah, I don't understand what you're saying.'

Ignoring him, she kneeled beside Alen. 'Where did you learn English?'

Obviously still quite drunk, Alen joked, 'In a place where nice young girls don't say "shit".'

Grinding her teeth together, Hannah reached out and grabbed his cloak. Pulling him up, she spat, 'Don't fuck with me, old man. I have had just about enough of this godforsaken place. Now, where did you learn my language?'

Something moist trickled between Hannah's fingers and left a trail of dull orange across her knuckles.

'In England,' Alen slurred matter-of-factly. 'And you, I suppose you learned somewhere in America, right?'

'South Denver,' Hannah whispered, and let him go. 'South Denver, Colorado, where I was born. In the United States of America. My world.'

She turned to Hoyt. 'All right. You have my attention.'

'I'm sorry, Hannah, but we don't speak this tongue.' Hoyt and Churn had not understood a word.

She switched back to Pragan. 'Sorry.'

'What is it?'

'I'm sorry for what I said. It looks like you were right.' She rubbed her hands together nervously. 'This was was the right place to start.' Despite his pitiful appearance and his rancid smell, Alen had changed. He had moved slightly, shifting his entire being in a way Hannah couldn't even begin to describe, but whatever he had done, he was suddenly a different person, a more confident person, merely draped in the carnage of eighteen months of drunkenness. the right place to start.' Despite his pitiful appearance and his rancid smell, Alen had changed. He had moved slightly, shifting his entire being in a way Hannah couldn't even begin to describe, but whatever he had done, he was suddenly a different person, a more confident person, merely draped in the carnage of eighteen months of drunkenness.

Alen tugged at the hem of Churn's leggings and, suddenly polite, requested, 'Churn, old man. Please take me outside to the trough. Dunk my head beneath the water repeatedly for half an aven, or until I throw up and start crying for my mother. Will you do that?'

A grin split Churn's face. Hannah guessed he would set about his task with enthusiasm.

'I need to wake up a bit. We have a great deal to discuss, young lady. I will be back momentarily. Please make yourselves comfortable.'

THE CAVERN.

For the next twelve days the travellers aboard the Capina Fair Capina Fair lived and ate well. Although they never spoke of the wraith attack, Mark and Brynne grew strong once again, and any sign they had ever been invaded by the spirits soon faded. Similarly, Garec and Steven quickly recovered from their ordeal at the hand of the homicidal river creature. The staff had saved them both from drowning, and there appeared to be no other lasting physical effects of the attack. Garec swore he would never venture near water again: he would find Renna, return to Estrad and remain comfortably dry among the rolling hills of the forbidden forest for the rest of his days. lived and ate well. Although they never spoke of the wraith attack, Mark and Brynne grew strong once again, and any sign they had ever been invaded by the spirits soon faded. Similarly, Garec and Steven quickly recovered from their ordeal at the hand of the homicidal river creature. The staff had saved them both from drowning, and there appeared to be no other lasting physical effects of the attack. Garec swore he would never venture near water again: he would find Renna, return to Estrad and remain comfortably dry among the rolling hills of the forbidden forest for the rest of his days.

Brynne reminded him he was still spending the better part of every day and most nights aboard a raft in the middle of a river, which was decidedly wet.

'Okay then, after this trip, I'm never going back in the water.'

'So, you'll never bathe?' she teased.

'Not often, no, and never in water deeper than my ankles,' Garec shot back.

'Imagine the stench.'

'That's fine,' he joked, 'I suppose I won't have many friends, but then again, I won't have strangely dressed foreigners dropping through the Fold, or thousand-Twinmoon-old sorcerers dragging me off on wild adventures in which invisible psychic creatures try to drown me before adding my body to their makeshift underwater sculptures, either.'

Steven chuckled and corrected him. 'I think you mean psychotic,' he said with a grin. The English words sounded strange, but sometimes there was no local equivalent. In spite of his smile Steven didn't feel much like laughing. As they poled the Capina Fair Capina Fair downstream, he found himself periodically struck by bouts of insecurity and depression. The others noticed the gloominess that took hold of him whenever he considered the now-familiar length of hickory. Its failure to free them from the river's grasp was the first time the magic had fallen short of Steven's needs: the Seron, the grettan, the wraiths even the almor they'd fallen easily beneath its apparently endless reserves of power. downstream, he found himself periodically struck by bouts of insecurity and depression. The others noticed the gloominess that took hold of him whenever he considered the now-familiar length of hickory. Its failure to free them from the river's grasp was the first time the magic had fallen short of Steven's needs: the Seron, the grettan, the wraiths even the almor they'd fallen easily beneath its apparently endless reserves of power.

Now Steven was worried: he could no longer rely on the hickory staff. The magic might fail again, and next time the dwindling company might not be so lucky. He felt responsible for the others' survival, and the magic's failure on the riverbed sent his confidence reeling: what would happen when they came up against the enormous military and magical force awaiting them on the shore of the Ravenian Sea?

Grimacing, he tried to thrust the problem from his mind, telling himself he had never understood how the staff's magic worked anyway, so he had no right to question or complain if it began to fade now. It had saved their lives several times, so he should just be grateful.

It wasn't working. He wanted to have the staff's power with with him, to wrap himself in the sense of security it brought him. Defeating the wraith army had given him a sense of invincibility, a self-confidence he had never before experienced; at that moment he had been sure no force in Eldarn could stand against him. He supposed he was lucky that he and Garec had survived their first encounter with a power strong enough to render the staff useless. him, to wrap himself in the sense of security it brought him. Defeating the wraith army had given him a sense of invincibility, a self-confidence he had never before experienced; at that moment he had been sure no force in Eldarn could stand against him. He supposed he was lucky that he and Garec had survived their first encounter with a power strong enough to render the staff useless.

Try as he might to push it away, there was something else troubling Steven. He had wielded a power greater than anything he could ever have imagined, and he liked liked it. He wanted it with him always and he was certain it wanted him, that it had chosen it. He wanted it with him always and he was certain it wanted him, that it had chosen him him that evening in the foothills of the Blackstone Mountains. He was sure it had responded to his needs because it understood that compassion was right: terror and hatred had ruled Eldarn for generations, and the land was teetering on the brink of collapse. Compassion and caring, brotherhood and a sense of unity and understanding could save this beautiful, strange land; Steven was sure of it. that evening in the foothills of the Blackstone Mountains. He was sure it had responded to his needs because it understood that compassion was right: terror and hatred had ruled Eldarn for generations, and the land was teetering on the brink of collapse. Compassion and caring, brotherhood and a sense of unity and understanding could save this beautiful, strange land; Steven was sure of it.

He could feel a memory of the magic, tingling through his arms and legs, as if the staff had read his mind and was responding to his reflections, encouraging him to believe that he was its rightful wielder, and that all would be well if he remained true. The desire to test it grew within him for a moment, but Steven forced the need back within the confines of his mind. It settled there, among his darkest desires, in a place he was certain everyone had but no one discussed: a cordoned-off section of himself where all his ugliest thoughts were trapped: the desire to feel the thrill of robbing a liquor store at gunpoint, to be a voyeur, to have desperate intercourse with a complete stranger, or to crash through mind-numbing rush-hour traffic and watch as rude commuters burned in a fiery conflagration all lay sublimated in this do-not-enter region of his consciousness. They would be joined now by the desire to wield the world's most powerful force, to consume it and become indestructible, confident and powerful and, most of all, free from fear.

Steven fought his almost overwhelming need to embrace the magic, to let it take him and make him into the instrument of Nerak's destruction. That might be his eventual end, but until he knew that for certain, he would keep it at arm's length. He didn't understand the magic, and after his failure on the river bottom he knew he couldn't always control it, but it was there, lurking patiently until it was needed.

He felt the power run along his forearms and out into his fingertips, prickly and stinging; it flickered briefly and then faded. All at once he was less-than-himself again.

The journey downstream from Meyers' Vale through the rolling hills of southern Falkan had been marked by good weather, unlimited fresh fish, wild fruits and nuts, and even a large game bird Garec had brought down, a gansel; it tasted not unlike turkey to the Coloradoans, but Garec's uncontrollable bellowing laughter when they named it in English was enough to convince them to abandon any further comparisons.

It was too late: throughout the following day, Garec continued trying out the word, as if he were going to perform for an audience. 'Turkey, turkey, turkey,' he repeated over and over again, trying different inflections until Brynne was ready to throw him into the river herself. 'What a strange language you speak. I'm amazed you can understand one another at all.'

'Sometimes it's hard,' Mark said, 'and other times, we drink.'

'That always makes communication easier.'

'No, only sometimes,' Brynne chimed in.

'Yes, but those are the best times,' Garec stated firmly.

'Listen!' Steven interrupted.

'That helps too,' Garec agreed, 'but so few of us are any good at it.'

'No, no,' Steven chided, 'listen.'

As they ceased chattering, they could hear the sound of the river had changed. Ahead in the distance, they could hear a low, grating, hollow roar, as if warning travellers to come no further. The sound, although unfamiliar, was somehow unmistakable: they all understood in a moment that they were fast approaching a stretch of white water, maybe even just beyond the next bend.

Suddenly serious, Garec regained his wits and ordered, 'Everyone tie down the packs. Use the centre loops.' He moved to secure his bow and quivers.

'I thought the centre loops were for us,' Mark asked. 'Where will we be?'

'Here.' Garec motioned towards the four outer loops, loose coils of rope forming handholds in each corner of the Capina Fair's Capina Fair's upper deck. 'We'll be here, holding fast-' He paused, then continued, 'Maybe even tied fast, while we pole ourselves away from rocks or dangerous shallows along the way.' upper deck. 'We'll be here, holding fast-' He paused, then continued, 'Maybe even tied fast, while we pole ourselves away from rocks or dangerous shallows along the way.'

'Out near the edge? Have you lost your mind?' Brynne scolded. 'We should stay here in the middle and hang on to these coils. We'll be safer.'

'I wish we could,' Garec answered, 'but listen, do you hear that? That roar?' Again he paused. 'That's not just a few rapids; that's powerfully rough water. There will be rocks large enough to ruin us, not just to capsize good old Capina Capina, but to smash her to splinters.'

'He's right,' Mark agreed tying down his pack, 'and Steven, you shouldn't pole with that staff. If it gets torn from your hands as we go we're stuffed. We'd never find it again.'

Steven hesitated an instant before securing the length of hickory between two packs in the centre of the raft. This left him without a pole, but he gripped the fourth corner line anyway. 'So I'm just along for the ride.'

'Be grateful, lad: you're at least forty-four inches tall, otherwise, my friend, you'd have to sit this one out.' Garec and Brynne looked at Mark quizzically, but Steven laughed.

Steven felt the familiar pang of insecurity ripple through his stomach and fought the urge to hold the staff close through the coming ordeal.

As the Capina Fair Capina Fair rounded the next bend, Garec exhaled sharply, then stood upright and stared disbelievingly into the distance. 'Great demonspawn,' he cried, 'it's a rutting canyon!' rounded the next bend, Garec exhaled sharply, then stood upright and stared disbelievingly into the distance. 'Great demonspawn,' he cried, 'it's a rutting canyon!'

It was a canyon, a narrow gorge just a few raft-widths wide, carved deep into the bedrock over countless Ages. The deep water of the river was squeezed into the inadequate space with the force of a cavalry charge. Rocky bluffs loomed above and save for a few stunted pine trees, all they could see in either direction were the towering cliffs and the boisterously turbulent water. The bright hues of Falkan's countryside faded quickly; their world became stark black granite and foaming white water.

The Capina Fair Capina Fair slammed into the first of thousands of rocky outcroppings awaiting them and they knew they had only one choice: navigate well, or drown. slammed into the first of thousands of rocky outcroppings awaiting them and they knew they had only one choice: navigate well, or drown.

Throughout the day their sturdy craft was battered and buffeted fiercely by the brute force of the rapids. Back and forth across they jounced, over rocks, down short waterfalls, and in and out of swirling eddies, with no rest for the drenched and weary travellers.

After a while Steven motioned to Brynne and she tossed him her pole. The constant thrusting and jabbing that was necessary to keep them from being run aground or, worse, broken apart on the rocks was exhausting. Brynne collapsed on their packs, looping her arms through the coils of rope that secured their belongings to the deck. With his first few thrusts Steven realised all they had was the illusion of control over the Capina Fair' Capina Fair's trajectory downstream. At any moment the river might decide it had had enough of being poked with sharp, pointed sticks and cast them effortlessly into the granite wall of the canyon.

Still they fought on.

After a brief rest, Brynne spelled Garec, then Garec relieved Mark, and they fell into a pattern. Despite the incessant pounding, the Capina Fair Capina Fair held together well. Steven and Garec grinned at each other briefly, proud of what they'd built. held together well. Steven and Garec grinned at each other briefly, proud of what they'd built.

Despite the rests, it was enormously hard work. Their vigilance began to fail, and they took several blows that nearly shook them from their precarious perches on the Capina Fair' Capina Fair's upper deck. Garec found himself doing less poling and more gripping of lifelines. Several times, lacking the strength to push them away from an underwater boulder, he simply cried out to prepare the others for impact.

By nightfall, they knew they would not survive much longer. Mark, shattered, lay with his back propped against their packs as he tied strips torn from his tunic over the huge blisters that had welled up on both palms. Brynne secured a line about her waist, but she knew if she fell overboard she would not have the strength to pull herself back up; she would most likely be dragged beneath the surface and torn apart on the rocks.

With every twist in the canyon, the group held their collective breath, some in the hope that they would spot the end of the rocky bluffs, the others in fear that a large waterfall lay in wait just out of sight. But each turn brought an audible groan from the disheartened company as nothing changed: time and again their anticipation was for naught. The river careened fiercely onwards through the curving canyon, winding its way inexorably towards the Ravenian Sea, all the while draining their spirits and slowly dismantling their craft.

Darkness came early. Deeper sections of the river that had given a scant few moments' rest were now giving way to large flat rocks that lay just beneath the surface. Anticipating a gentle touchdown from a short waterfall into the soft well of a deep hollow, Steven's teeth rattled as the Capina Fair Capina Fair came down hard on a flat boulder he had missed. Rocks and water blurred together and for a moment Steven half expected an all-black world to shroud them, just as the all-white world had blanketed him and Lahp high among the glaciers in the Blackstone Mountains. Pushing hard, he shoved them back into moving water, then suddenly angry, called to Garec. came down hard on a flat boulder he had missed. Rocks and water blurred together and for a moment Steven half expected an all-black world to shroud them, just as the all-white world had blanketed him and Lahp high among the glaciers in the Blackstone Mountains. Pushing hard, he shoved them back into moving water, then suddenly angry, called to Garec.

The bowman turned. His eyes were sunk deep; in the twilight he looked like a lifeless skull; Steven jumped when the skull spoke. 'What is it?'

'Take this,' he said, passing him the pole and moving carefully across to the pile of sodden packs and the hickory staff.

'What are you going to do?' Brynne called over the water's roar.

'There's no place to go ashore, and if we're going to survive, we must have light.' His fingers, stiff and blistered, were clumsy as he untied the ropes holding the staff safe.

Mark nodded in understanding.

Holding the staff close to his face, Steven drew a deep breath and summoned the magic. No No, he thought, it's different this time, a release not a summons ... like that morning in the Blackstones with the pine tree that was a release, too it's different this time, a release not a summons ... like that morning in the Blackstones with the pine tree that was a release, too.

As it had before, the staff's power flowed through him easily; Steven felt the familiar sensation of time stretching to accommodate him he wondered once again if time really was slowing, or if he just imagined it. Suddenly, the river seemed manageable, and Steven cursed his wretched insecurity: he should have drawn on the staff's power much earlier. A little uncertain what he should do next, he placed the end of the staff into the riverbed and envisioned the water slowing, levelling, gently moving downstream at a leisurely, navigable pace. At first nothing happened; Steven could still feel the raft being buffeted violently then, things calmed. The river still raged, both behind and before them, but the Capina Fair Capina Fair seemed to settle, floating as if adrift on a small pond. seemed to settle, floating as if adrift on a small pond.

'Good,' Steven said, and raised the opposite end of the staff above his head. 'Now some light.'

He focused his concentration, visualising a torch he had seen hanging in a wall sconce in Estrad. Gilmour had stolen that torch, used it to light their way and to light his pipe, of course. Almost immediately a small yellow flame burst in the air above the raft. Bigger Bigger, Steven commanded in his mind, and as if it had heard him speak out loud, the light grew until the walls of the canyon came into view.

With their path lighted and the Capina Fair Capina Fair floating in a gentle current, Mark commented, 'That's better. We could go on like this all night.' floating in a gentle current, Mark commented, 'That's better. We could go on like this all night.'

'Yes, but we really ought to find some place to go ashore,' Garec said. 'We need repairs, and if we don't dry out and warm up, the cold will kill us before the river ever does.'

'We ought to rest, too,' Steven added. 'I could sleep until noon.' He used the English word.

'When?' Brynne looked at him through sodden hair, a tangled frame about her beautiful face.

'Noon,' Steven smiled. 'It means midday with some conviction.'

'I don't understand.'

'It means lunch,' Mark added dryly.

'That I understand,' Garec said, 'and if noon means sleeping until midday, with or without conviction, and then eating lunch, you have my complete support.'

'How can we get ashore, though?' Brynne asked. 'We haven't seen anyplace suitable since we entered this canyon.'

'We'll just have to keep going until we find somewhere we can tie up for the night,' Mark suggested. 'At least now the going will be easier.'

The raft, as if floating just above the surface of their tiny circle of water, floated surely over rocks, down abrupt cascades and across whirling eddies. They poled to avoid outcroppings of lethally sharp rocks and to maintain their position midstream, but those tasks were no more demanding than paddling across a windless lake. Steven's flame provided light for their passage as Steven himself continued to imagine a cushioned path for them all the way through the canyon.

The magic did nothing for their fatigue, though, and the travellers continued scanning the canyon walls, looking for someplace to put ashore for a few avens' rest. They took turns napping in pairs, but the evening chill coupled with their waterlogged clothing made proper sleep nearly impossible. Mark and Brynne huddled close together, their teeth chattering audibly. Mark brushed Brynne's hair back from her face and cupped her cheeks in his hands while he told her silly jokes and anecdotes to help them both forget their aches.

At one point, Brynne interrupted him. 'I don't want you to go back home,' she whispered.

Mark leaned forward and kissed her gently on the lips. This wasn't the place or the time he'd have chosen for this discussion.

Brynne pulled him closer and kissed him back, hard and long. He shuddered with need as her tongue moved in his mouth; just the taste of her aroused him like no woman ever had.

He pulled back slightly, and looked deep into her eyes. He put a finger on her mouth and whispered, 'You must know how I feel. But right now, it's academic, isn't it? Who knows if we'll ever find a far portal, let alone be able to use it. I do wish I could somehow let my family know where I am no, not where I am; they'd think I was completely wacko and have me locked up, or medicated to within an inch of my life! But I want them to at least know that I'm all right, that I'm not murdered, or kidnapped or locked up. They must think we're both dead by now people would have come to our house days and days ago: the police, Hannah, my students, the principal at my school, friends, Steven's boss from the bank ...

'I know people have probably been in and out of the house looking for clues to what happened to us, so I can't imagine the far portal is still open. If they found it, they'd have detected its power, even if they didn't know what the hell it was.'

'You felt it?'

'It changed the air in the room. It almost shimmered.' He wagged his fingers to demonstrate for her. 'If somehow the portal closed, though, they'd think it was just an ugly old rug, or maybe a tapestry.'

'Steven is convinced that Hannah is in Eldarn.'

'I know.' Mark looked down at the log deck, and then back at her. 'Hannah would have been one of the first to come looking for us. They had plans for the following day, so it may well be true.'

'There might be others here as well?'

'I suppose,' he allowed, 'although I hope that before too long someone realised that thing was dangerous and closed it up.'

'If it's closed, you might end up falling anywhere in your land.' She tried to remember Gilmour's explanation of the far portals. 'So would Nerak.'

'That's right listen to me go on, will you? The truth is I have no idea what happened after we got transported to Eldarn.' He ran two fingers along her face and across her chin.

She reached up to take his hand. 'Regardless, I don't want you to go back.'

Mark looked up and saw Steven illuminated in the stafflight. With his hair cropped close and his shaven face, he looked like an accountant on a weekend rafting trip, the one in the play no one gives a second thought to. 'A red top in Star Trek Star Trek,' he muttered to himself, 'cannon fodder.' Then to Brynne, 'I don't think he he is going back,' Mark whispered, their faces nearly touching in the darkness. 'He'll stay here until this is done, and then ...' His voice trailed off. is going back,' Mark whispered, their faces nearly touching in the darkness. 'He'll stay here until this is done, and then ...' His voice trailed off.

'And then we'll decide what happens with us.' Brynne was back to her opening thought. The tough, knife-wielding partisan grinned, and shot him a sexy come-hither look. She ran her hand down his sodden thigh suggestively.