been thinking matters over a bit since you asked me whether she
might attempt to bring the Valemen here. I could be wrong; she
might try to do just that. You have to make certain she doesn’t.”
“I will.”
“Out the back door, then-as I’ve said. And you go alone.”
Morgan’s brow furrowed.
“Alone, lad. Your friends stay with me. First, you can’t be
wandering about Callahom with a pair of Dwarves in tow-even
if they were up to it, which at least the one isn’t. The Federation
would have you in irons in two minutes. And second, we can’t
be taking any chances after all the treachery that’s been done.
No one is to know your plans.”
The Highlander considered a moment. Padishar was right.
There was no point in taking needless risks. He would be better
off going by himself and telling no one what he was about-
especially Steffand Teel. He almost gave voice to what he was
thinking, then thought better of it. Instead, he simply nodded.
“Good. The matter is settled. Except for one thing.” Padi-
shar climbed back to his feet. “Come with me.”
He took Morgan through the camp and into the largest of the
caves that opened on the cliffs backing the bluff, led him past
the bay in which the wounded were being cared for and into the
chambers beyond. The tunnels began there, a dozen or more,
opening off each other, disappearing back into the darkness.
Padishar had picked up a torch on their way in; now he touched
it to one that burned from an iron bracket hammered into the
cave wall, glanced about for a moment to reassure himself that
no one was paying any special attention, then beckoned Morgan
ahead. Ignoring the tunnels, he guided the Highlander through
the piles of stores to the very deepest part of the caves, several
hundred feet back into the cliff rock to a wall where crates were
stacked twenty feet high. It was quiet there, the noise left be-
hind. Again he glanced back, scanning the darkness.
Then, handing his torch to Morgan, he reached up with both
hands, fitted his fingers into the seams of the crates and pulled.
An entire section swung free, a false front on hidden hinges that
opened into a tunnel beyond.
“Did you see how I did that, lad?” he asked softly. Morgan
nodded.
Padishar took back his torch and poked it inside. Morgan
leaned forward. The walls of the secret tunnel twisted and wound
downward into the rock until they were lost from view.
“It goes all the way through the mountain,” Padishar said.
“Follow it to its end and you come out above the Parma Key
just south of the Dragon’s Teeth, east of the Kennon Pass.” He
looked at Morgan pointedly. “If you were to attempt to find
your way through the other passageways-the ones I keep a guard
on for show-we might never see you again. Understand?”
He shoved the secret door closed again and stepped back.
“I’m showing you all this now because, when you’re ready to
go, I won’t be with you. I’ll be out there, keeping a close watch
on your backside.” He gave Morgan a small, hard smile. “Be
certain you get clear quickly.”
They went back through the storage chambers and out through
the main cavern to the bluff. It was dark now, the last of the
daylight faded into dusk. The outlaw chief stopped, stretched,
and took a deep breath of evening air.
“Listen to me, lad,” he said quietly.’ “There’s one thing more.
You have to stop brooding about what happened to that sword
you carry. You can’t haul that burden around with you and ex-
pect to stay clearheaded; it’s much too heavy a load, even for a
determined fellow like you. Lay it down. Leave it behind you.
You’ve got enough heart in you to manage without it.”
He knows about this morning, Morgan realized at once. He
knows and he’s telling me that it’s all right.
Padishar sighed. “Every bone in my body aches, but none of
them aches nearly so bad as my heart. I hate what’s happened
here. I hate what’s been done to us.” He looked squarely at