She pinched the bridge of her nose. Greyness was encroaching, almost tangible in the way that it smothered any happy thought before it could be had.

Fight it, she told herself.

*Fight it!' she growled at those around her.

A nearby wall rumbled as something large moved through hidden tubes a there was a splash in the river, too big for any simple slap of water on rock a She glanced at Jandryn, who was staring off at nothing, his sword slowly lowering to his side. Pushing back towards him, she grabbed him firmly by the arm.

*Jandryn * they are circling us. Do not give in to sadness!'

He blinked at her forlornly. *She's only toying with me. Having her fun. I am nothing more to her than idle amusement.'

*Jandryn!'

She shook him, jostling focus into his eyes. For a moment, she thought he had it.

*Ready, people!' he said. *Swords at the ready! Bows a'

His gusto petered out and confusion crinkled his brow, as if he had lost track of his thoughts.

If she could not keep him cognisant of the situation, they were doomed. They would die here. She would die here.

She held fast to her lute, as if it were her anchor to reality. The instrument defined her, reminded her of who she was, her purpose here. She would not let them use it against her, like they had that morning.

She started to play. At first the notes seemed muted by the running water, evaporating away into the high space. Steeling herself, she played harder, faster * a happy tune completely incongruous to the muck of their surrounds. And then, not sure if she was trying to raise the mood, or goad the creatures that wound closer in the dark before those who would slay them lost all hope, she launched into song.

I need no roses, said the girl, No jewels and no crown.

Golden coins are not for me, Nor silken evening gown.

Then how to win your heart, said he, What can I do to show How achingly I love you?

And win you as my beau?

Take me for a walk, said she, Down to the willow trees.

Take your hand in my hand And whisper sweet whimsies.

Tell me lies about the birds, Fibs about the fish.

Twine the reeds about my wrist Then snap and make a wish.

The tune was an old favourite, sung in taverns across Aorn. She thought familiarity might help, and gladly noticed that some of the others were beginning to mouth the words.

*Join in if you like!' she called.

How will I win your heart, said he, What can I do to show How high that I esteem you?

And win you as my beau?

Steal bread from the kitchens, Flee the angry cooks, Hide inside the library in A castle made from books.

A soft scrape sounded in a drain nearby. Something bulged at the opening, its constricted bulk expanding as it left its confines to spill to the floor. A nightmarish head reared up, and what Tarzi had heard of worms did nothing to stop cold fear shooting through her at the sight of it. The creature's oval face, carved from the same black flesh as the rest of it, was disturbingly human in shape. A wide nose hung above long thick lips, in which * not in the gums, but embedded in the lips * were rows of inwards-curling hook-like fangs. Against the sides of its bald, smooth head, large ears were flattened, now slowly peeling free in the open air. The eyes were the least human aspect * a smattering of tiny silver dots across the brow.

Beholding the worm filled Tarzi with dread, and made her swallow her song for a moment. How could such aberration come to be? Regret had made these creatures and, looking upon this one now, she wondered if he had used people somehow in their creation, a sickening thought.

The worm's tail flopped free with a slurp, its head rising higher.

*Stand ready everyone,' Jandryn said. *Bows, ready?'

It was not the confident command of a captain, more the plaintive question of a child.

Sing, Tarzi, she told herself. Bring them back.

She gave a lurching, resounding strum.

But what of wealth, said the prince, I offer you so much, Lands as far as you can see, Courtiers and such!

A second foul head rose from the river, water streaming over its glittering brow, dripping off the trails of mucus dangling from its mouth.

I'll shower you with riches, Cast petals at your feet, Stage bouts for your amusement 'Twixt champions elite.

The soldiers stood watching the worms dumbly, their weapons unraised. Tarzi began to panic * if they didn't act soon they would lose themselves forever. She edged closer to Jandryn and directed a firm kick to his shin. He gave a little cry and shot her a distressed look.

*Attack,' she prompted. *For Althala!'

He frowned at her * then, thankfully, gave a nod.

*Attack,' she said again. *Say the word!'

*Attack!' he shouted suddenly, making soldiers * and himself * start. His eyes kindled like a spark from fading ashes, and he turned about to slap a man across the face. *Come on, you fools! Don't stand there with arrows pointed at your toes!'

The first worm gave a long, rasping sigh, and grinned horribly.

*Rouse yourselves! This scum has been eating our people! Make them sorry!'

Soldiers shook themselves and arrows finally left bows to fly across the cavern at First-worm. Some bounced from its hide, opening up jets of white blood. Others held, though failed to sink in far * and, with a shake, First-worm dislodged them. More jets hissed from its shallow wounds, misting the air around it. All the while Tarzi strummed desperately, as if the happiness of her tune was the only thing that shielded them.

No thank you sir, said she, Those things don't interest me.

But please princess, he begged, How will I win the heart of thee?

An arrow shot into First-worm's open mouth, and it wobbled backwards with a wet wheeze. Tarzi was glad to see the mocking grin knocked from its lips, but the feeling was short-lived, for the creature snaked forward with silver eyes gleaming. At the same time, River-worm lunged towards the shore, opening its mouth wider than it should have been able to clamp down over a guard's head gouging mouth-hooks into his neck. Even as he was being swallowed the guard stabbed desperately, and managed a true blow that slid into a join between River-worm's segments. It released him to coil backwards, and he gasped, his head and shoulders coated with filth and blood. From his expression, he was clearly amazed to be alive.

First-worm coiled up and snapped at the front row of soldiers, whose swords competed to fend it off. Blows nicked it, yet it kept on, its tail thrashing across the floor to knock soldiers from their feet. It darted in and pulled back holding a struggling man, flinging him hard against the wall.

Despite its wound, River-worm twisted about and surged again at the shore. It ignored the soldiers at the edge, rising high above their heads while rippling its bulk out of the way of their swords, taking their arrows without apparent care, and swaying its head back and forth. It seemed to be looking right at Tarzi, as if it was trying to find a clear path to strike at her.

It's the song, she thought. It's driving them mad!

Remind me of a boy, she said, Who I used to know.

'Ere we were lords and ladies, Not so long ago.

Slime splattered her strumming fingers, making the strings slippery. Slowly she turned her eyes upwards. Silently sliding from a drain in the roof, a third worm dangled downwards. It yawned widely, raining more slime upon her.

It would be so much easier, she thought, just to give in. Moments and all would be done with, the struggle of life ended, along with all its ugliness.

The worm dropped a few more handspans towards her, and somehow the dark of its maw seemed inviting.

Someone lifted and carried her, pushing her to the ground and falling on top as Third-worm crashed down where she had been standing. It uncoiled in the soldiers' midst, knocking them outwards, several into the river, as River-worm dove from view.

*I really don't,' said Jandryn breathlessly in her ear, *want to tell Rostigan I lost his lady.' He was on his feet a moment later, leaping towards Third-worm.

As the soldiers who had fallen in the water struggled against the current, one gave a yelp and was dragged under. A moment later he erupted upwards wrapped in black lengths, his cheeks puffing purple as the air was squeezed from his lungs.

In a daze, Tarzi got to her feet. She saw soldiers setting about First-worm, which was spraying white from so many small cuts that finally it seemed to be growing weaker. In a frenzy it flung itself against them, crushing some as others fell upon it, to hew out larger and larger chunks of quivering black flesh. Its head came up briefly to receive a slice across the brow, and a row of its eyes burst like silver grapes. One of the threaders shouted for people to clear away, advancing with her torch, and flames leapt to sizzle across First-worm's length, making it writhe as those pinned beneath tried to scrabble free.

Third-worm wheezed with its horrible, airy voice, and tried to slither towards the river.

*Oh, no you don't!'

Jandryn drove his sword down hard through the base of its tail, pinning it to the rock.

As River-worm strangled the hapless guard in the water, it twisted and turned under an increasing torrent of arrows. A misfire struck the guard's neck, ending his struggle. Others, loosed at close range, peppered the worm's hide, and the frothy surface of the water grew slick with its white blood. The two other threaders arrived at the water's edge * finally doing something, thought Tarzi * and twin levitated rocks hurtled in from either side of the creature's head, to pulp it solidly out of shape. The worm curled backwards and sank out of view.

Third-worm wrenched free of Jandryn's sword, splitting its own tail down the middle like a ragged forked tongue. Surrounded by guards on all sides, it swept its head back and forth while drooling copiously. It seemed to know that it was dangerously exposed and stilled for a moment, great body quivering. Then a grey mist spilled from it * from the joins of its segments, from its mouth and oversized human nostrils. The soldiers closest coughed, glanced around uncertainly, and slowed. The cloud spread outwards, enveloping them all. Tarzi could not help but breathe it in, though it tasted like nothing but vapour on her tongue.

Were they really doing something worthwhile here? she wondered. A few monsters dead in the dark, when the world was full of countless more? What a tiny, pathetic struggle. It all seemed so hopeless and overwhelming, she wanted nothing more than to sit down and cry.

Sit down and cry a sit down and cry a She had never sat down and cried in her entire life!

She straightened as she strummed the lute for all her worth, the vibrating strings flicking away slime. She raised her voice in full-throated melody.

The prince, he set aside his crown, Took her hand, soft as you please.

Let's walk, he said, let's walk then, Down by the willow trees.

As Third-worm tried to make for the water, swords cascaded across its back. It moaned and fell short, and Jandryn appeared to sweep down at its neck. Again and again he heaved his blade, until the head collapsed to a sagging fold, like a sack emptying of its gluggy white contents. Finally he stopped, breathing hard, his shoulders rising and falling with his exertions. Misted blood and grey vapour began to disperse.

*Get this scum into the river,' Jandryn snarled.

Soldiers and threaders stirred to obey. All the while Tarzi continued strumming, hoping to dispel the last of the worm's influence. As the two remaining carcasses sank into the flow and disappeared, it almost seemed there was a collective sigh of relief. People began to speak again, and soon there was even a laugh or two, and a couple of slaps on a back.

Jandryn approached Tarzi, reaching to still her frantically strumming hands.

*Do minstrels,' he said, *ever sing about their own feats? You may have earned the right.'

She tried to a smile, but felt that nothing save the light of day could wipe the smear from her soul.

THE NESTS.

The crow had been hard to find, harder still to coax into service. It could not see any reason to place itself in grave danger by flying through silkjaw-infested territory. Rostigan did not try to convey to it the wider importance of the mission, for to crows the concept of helping was unfathomable. He had instead been forced to grow loud in its head, shouting his demands until he had overwhelmed it with his will. Even now his hold was tenuous, as the bird's instinct was to fly lower and get to safer territory immediately. He would not have it for long, he knew, one way or another.

*Do you see anything?' asked Yalenna.

The bird climbed higher over the Peaks, and from above he spied the winding path to which he and Yalenna had threadwalked. He could not see them, he noted with satisfaction, so their camouflage was evidently working. What he could see, ahead, was a crevasse across which hung a strange white netting, standing out starkly from the orange mountaintops. It was the silkjaw nest which Yalenna and Braston had discovered when they had come here to rescue Mergan from Regret's tomb. What Rostigan wanted to know now was, was it the only one?

There was a high plateau at the end of the path where, according to Yalenna, Regret's tomb was built. Beyond it, by some hundred paces, Rostigan spied a second nest. It was the same size as the first, and also hung in a cleft between mountainsides. Rostigan urged the crow to dive lower but, as it began its descent, his connection to it was abruptly severed. He blinked, turned his own eyes upwards, and saw a silkjaw whirling away with something black in its mouth.

Rostigan sighed. Every time he lost a crow to a cause they did not understand, they would be less likely to serve him willingly the next time.

*Did you see anything?' Yalenna repeated.

*Yes, there is a second nest. Up there, past the plateau. I could not tell if there's a way to get to it.'

*There has to be. When I was here with Braston we saw Unwoven bringing bones to make silkjaws. Without access, a nest would be useless.'

*Come, then.'

They set off.

Around them, Yalenna maintained a shimmering haze to shield them from sight above. She had done a masterful job, creating a complex network of dust, heat and light which Rostigan could not help but admire * but then, she had been Priestess of Storms, and her command of the elements was accordingly well beyond his own. The memory of her in that guise seeped him for a moment in the deep place, and, as she walked ahead, he saw her wearing her brilliant white robe with the lightning clasp at her shoulder.

*Here,' she said, back in plain trousers and shirt.

The path curved along a crevasse. Looking down, they saw a silken surface in which there bobbed the strange bundles of half-formed silkjaws. One, barely more than a head, snapped its jaws and sunk away into the weave.

*Well,' said Rostigan.

*Yes, quite.'

He reached into his satchel and produced a torch and flint, which he handed to Yalenna. She considered them earnestly.

*Are you not the better of us with fire?' he asked.

*I'm not certain. Fire has never been my strongest talent.'

*You will be better than I, believe me.'

*Very well.'