for your mount. And you should have." Toug nodded again. "Pouk came out here from time to time to see about my horses, the horses he had when the Angrborn captured him. If he had not, things would have been worse than they were. Did Sir Svon ever attend to his own mount?" "I don't know." "Then he didn't." I sighed. "You'd know if he had. He was my squire, and Sir Ravd's. Neither of us trained him the way we should have. What about Sir Garvaon and his squire? I don't recall the squire's name." "Wistan, sir. I don't know. I don't think so." "Neither do I," I said, and left. I was leading Cloud when I met the knights, Pouk, and Ulfa in the cold moon-shadow of Utgard. "We thought we'd better have a look for you," Garvaon told me. "We were afraid something might have happened." I smiled. "I'm okay, just tired. I guess we all are, Toug especially." nodded. "I'll keep that in mind." Ulfa touched my arm. "Where is he?" "In the stable, seeing to his horse. Pretty soon it will hit him that he ought to see to Sir Svon's. Maybe it already has." I paused. "You belong to him now. Do you feel you've got to have his permission to leave here?" "Youyou're . . . ?" Her mouth was open. "I'm going to take you where you'll be free. Pouk, you agreed I could. Have you changed your mind?" "No, sir!" Dropping Mani, Ulfa kissed and embraced Pouk. "The two of you will be back together soon," I promised them. "I hope so, anyway." Svon said, "I came down because I want to ride with you. I know you said you met no resistance, but we may have to fight our way out, and you'll be burdened with this woman." "You can't ride where we ride," I told him. I lifted Ulfa onto Cloud's back and swung into the saddle behind her. So mounted, my eyes were not as high as the eyes of Schildstarr or Thiazi; yet I felt that I looked down on Svon, Garvaon, and Pouk from a great heightthat Cloud stood upon an invisible tower, but a real tower just the same. I whistled for Gylf and watched him leap into the air, running toward the palisade of logs that crowned the curtain wall; and then (the palisade passed) toward a bank of somber winter cloud and the pale moon that peered around it. Ulfa blew a kiss to Pouk, and he came forward and caught her hand and kissed her fingers. Then I touched Cloud's flanks, and pictured myself (and Ulfa, too) on Cloud's back as she galloped across the sky. And at once it came to be, and the pennant on my lance, the green pennant the old captain's wife had sewn from scraps, snapped in the cold wind of Cloud's passage. Ulfa moaned and shut her eyes, clinging with all her might to the high steel pommel of the war saddle. I wrapped my cloak around her, and turned to look back at Utgard as it dwindled and faded into night, becoming scattered points of light, a few stars in the general darkness of Mythgarthr. Toug had run from the stable as Pouk kissed Ulfa's hand. He knew Ulfa was not looking; yet he felt it was his duty to wave, so wave he did, knowing his eyes had filled with tears. In his boyhood, Ulfa had held authority. He had protested that authority often and loudly, and acknowledged it only when he might have something to gain. As he had grown older and stronger they had come to blows. Now he might never see her again; the past reclaimed in her face and voice was gone once more. So he waved, knowing she was not thinking of him, and knowing that his tears were soaking his bandage. Knew shame, but wept and waved still. I whistled and Gylf ran up a hill of air. A few seconds more, and Ulfa and I followed upon a proud, long-legged mare as gray as cloud and as swift as the wind. Together we four dwindled into the south as swans dwindle when ice closes the marshes, great solid birds that seem too large to fly, seen only as specs of white against Skai, specs that wane and fade and are seen to be very small indeed. "How? How did he do that?" Garvaon spoke to everyone and no one. Nobody answered, and Toug wondered momentarily whether Pouk would continue to maintain the pretext of blindness or confess that he, too, had seen Cloud canter into the sky. A strange, high keening filled the courtyard, coming from everywhere and nowhere, a sound more lonely and less human than that of a dog howling on his master's grave. "What's that, sir?" Pouk grasped Toug's arm. "Org." The name had slipped from his lips. Garvaon asked, "Who's Org?" "Org isn't anybody." Toug sensed Svon's gaze. "I just meant Pouk was hurting my arm." "We're all tired," Svon said. "Let's get to bed." "But you saw it." Garvaon pointed. "You and Toug. You saw it just like I did." " With a lance of prayer and a horse of air,' " Svon quoted, " 'summoned I am to tourney, ten thousand leagues beyond the moon. Methinks it is no journey' " Garvaon shook himself, the rings of his mail whispering. "He's crazy, the knight in that song. That's the whole point of the song. Sir Able's not crazy." "We will be," Svon said softly, "if we talk about this." He caught Pouk's shoulder. "You saw nothing, I know, but you heard us talking about it." "Aye, sir. Only I ain't figured out yet what happened. I know Sir Able went an' took my Ulfa with him like he said, only I don't remember hearin' his horse go." "It would be well for you to remain as silent regarding all this. I speak as a friend." "Oh, I will, Sir Svon, sir. They'll ast me what's become o' Ulfa, though, I knows they will. All right if I say Sir Able's took her? They'll know he was here." "Certainly." Releasing Pouk, Svon turned to Toug. "You haven't always been as discreet as I might like." "I know, Sir Svon. But I won't say a word about what happened just now." "See that you don't." "Have you seen Mani, Sir Svon? Lady Idnn's cat? I mean the queen's." "He's the king's cat now. You brought him here. What did you do with him?" "I didn't, Sir Svon. My sister did. Only she didn't have him when she went with Sir Able." "You'd better look for him before you go to bed," Svon told Toug; and when Toug went to search the shadows around the keep, Svon muttered, "I myself am going to bed, cat or no cat. Good night, Sir Garvaon. Pouk, you and I've been foes. I'm a knight now, and you're blind. If you harbor ill will toward me" "I don't, sir. Not I!" "I would not blame you. Nor will I seek revenge, now or ever. I offer my hand." Svon held it out. "Let's hope we quit Jotunland alive together." Pouk groped for Svon's hand, found it, and clasped it. Garvaon said, "You were Sir Able's squire. You must know more about him than the rest of us." Looking back at them, Toug saw Svon shake his head and heard him say, "I didn't learn a tenth as much as he could have taught me. I wish I had." The three went under the pitch-dark arch of the sally port, and Toug saw them no more. He spat, clenched his thumbs in his fists to warm them, and leaned for a blissful moment against the rough stones of the keep. "I could lie down right here," he murmured, "lie down and roll myself in my cloak and sleep. I'd freeze before the night was over, but I could do it." He yawned and shook himself more or less as Garvaon had, and set out for the stables. Mani was certainly capable of getting back into Utgard without help, and Toug decided that Mani was probably in their turret room that very moment, curled warmly beside a sleeping Etela. In the stable, the slaves Able had awakened and set to work were just going back to the bed. As loudly as he could, Toug said, "Listen up, all of you! I'll be back tomorrow morning when I can look this place over by daylight, and I won't just be concerned about my own horse. Every horse you've got had better have food and water, a clean coat, and clean straw to lie in. Don't say you weren't warned." Several muttered that they would attend to it. "Meanwhile, I'm looking for a cat. A big" Almost too late Toug remembered that these slaves were truly blind. "A big furry tomcat. He belongs to the king. Keep him if you find him, treat him well, and tell me when I come back." They swore they would, and he returned to the keep more tired than ever. Long knocking got him inside at last. "I thought all had come back that was comin'," Arn said, and Toug explained that he was the last and told him about Mani. No doubt Arn had promised to keep an eye out. As soon as he had begun the long jump-and-scramble up the too-high stairs, Toug could no longer remember. This part of the keep was practically solid stone, he knew. Solid stone with a few passages let into it. A few suffocating rooms like the guardroom, and stairs to dungeons dug like mines into the native rock. He felt the whole weight of Utgard around him waiting to crush him, a threat before which he ought to cower, and before which he would have cowered had he not been so tired. "If the witch appears I won't even talk to her," he told himself. "I'll lie down and cover my head. If she wants to kill me she can." But Huld did not appear, and the stair, which always seemed endless, and never more endless than it did that night, ended at last. The fire in the turret chamber was burning brightly; and though Mani was nowhere to be seen, Sword Breaker lay upon the wide bed next to the sleeping Etela, with the sword belt and dagger of human size I had bought in Irringsmouth. "It's been a long ride and a cold one," I said, "but it's almost over." Ulfa spoke through chattering teeth. "I wouldn't care if it were twice as a long, as long as it's the ride home." And then, "You'll bring Pouk? Bring him back to me?" "Have you been a wife Pouk would want to come back to?" "I think so. I've tried to be." I said, "Then Pouk will bring himself if need be." Only tossing black treetops were visible below; but Cloud was cantering down a slope. Gylf, who had gone chasing wild geese, was lagging and nearly out of sight. I whistled. Ulfa said, "You know, I've heard that in the night, but I thought it was the wind." "It may have been. See how it's blowing now. This wind whistles louder than I." "But it isn't as cold as it was." "Only autumn here. A storm's brewing." "Is that Glennidam? The houses? Those little fields in the forest?" "I think so, though it's possible I lost my way." "Put your arm around me. Hold me tight." I did, holding her as I had when Cloud first mounted into the sky. "Don't be afraid." "I'm not." Ulfa sighed. "When I leftit seems like a long, long time ago . . ." "It was." "That's Glennidam!" She pointed. "There's our house!" I nodded, and slowed Cloud to a walk. "I used to think you and I would be married, and we'd come back here, a knight and his lady, riding together on one horse. Hiding myself in bushes beside the road to sleep, lying there with leaves and sticks in my face, I'd think like that so I wouldn't be afraid. It won't happen." "No," I said. "I wouldn't want it to, not anymore. I love Pouk and Pouk loves me. But this is closeas close as I'll get. We're going to have children. We want them, both of us do. When they're old enough to understand, I'll tell them about Utgard and how I left it, riding with you on this gray horse, between clouds like cliffs, and the moon so close I could touch it. They'll think I'm making it up." A gust swayed Cloud, and her mane flew like a banner. "They'll think I'm making it up," Ulfa repeated, "and after a while so will I. Hold me tighter." I did. "This is the moment of my life, the golden time." Neither of us spoke again until Cloud's hoofs were on solid ground. I dismounted and dropped her reins, and lifted Ulfa from the saddle. She said, "Thank you. I can't ever thank you enough. I won't even try, but I'll tell about you as long as I live." "Have I ever thanked you for the clothes you sewed for me? Or apologized for taking your brother?" "Yes, and it doesn't matter anyway." I turned to go, but she caught my arm. "Won't you come in? There'll be food, and I'll cook what we have for you." "I don't want to leave Cloud outside in this." "Just a moment. Please? Warm your hands at the fire before you go." I hesitated; then nodded, seeing what it meant to her. The door was barred. She led me to the back, to the door through which I had left the house long ago, and fished out the latchstring with a twig. The kitchen in which her mother had cowered was dark, though a fire smoldered on the hearth. Ulfa fed it fresh wood and knelt to puff the flames. "It seems too small!" The autumn wind moaned outside as she opened a door to reveal two pigs, headless and gutted, hanging by their hind feet. "My father's butchering already. I can roast slices on a fork as fast as you can sit down." Warming my hands as she had suggested, I shook my head. "Sit anyway. You must be tired. I'll cut some bread" Gylf, who had followed us, said, "I'd like that meat." Ulfa looked at him in some surprise. "Did you do that?" I shook my head. "I know that cat can talk. I've heard it." The wind moaned in the chimney, stirring the ashes. "Raw pork's not good for dogs. Not good for anybody." She threw wide the doors of a tall cupboard and found bones with a good deal of meat on them. "Ma was saving these for soup, I'm sure, but I'll give them to your dog." There was no reply. I was already outside, and for a moment there can have been no sound in the kitchen save the creaking of the hinges of its door, which swung back and forth, and then (caught by a gust of wind) slammed shut. One sunny afternoon I had jogged through this field on the same errand, a field full of barley. The barley was reaped now. I ran on stubble, my left hand clutching Eterne to keep her from slapping my thigh. "Disiri? Disiri?" There was no answer; and yet I felt an answer had come: the leaves had spoken for her, saying here I am. "Disiri!" You can't find me. I stopped, listening, but the leaves spoke no more. "I can't," I admitted. "I'll search the seven worlds for you, and turn out Mythgarthr and Aelfrice like empty sacks. But I won't find you unless you want to be found. I know that." Give up? "Yes, I give up." I raised both hands. "Here I am." She stepped from behind the dark bole of the largest tree; and although I could scarcely see anything, I saw her and knew she was tall as few women are tall and slender as no human woman ever is, and too lovely for me to understand, ever, exactly how lovely she was. My arms closed around her, and we kissed. Her lips were sweeter than honey and warm with life, and there was nothing wrong that mattered because there was nothing wrong we could not mend; and there was love as long as we lived, and love did matter, love would always matter. We parted, and it seemed to me that we had kissed for centuries, and centuries were not long enough. "You have the sword Eterne." Her voice smiled. I gasped for breath. "Do you want her? She's yours." "I have her already," she said, "because you have her. Know you why she is called Eterne?" "Because she's almost as beautiful as you are, and beauty is eternal." We kissed again. "You're older," she said when we separated. "Your hair is giving up your temples." "And