was. The light was to his left, the beginnings of the new day.
East, then, he decided-the Spider Gnomes were traveling north.
That made sense. The Spider Gnomes had made their home on
Toffer Ridge in Brin Ohmsford’s time. That was probably where
he was. He swallowed against the dryness in his mouth and
throat. Thirst and fear, he thought. He tried to recall what he
could of Spider Gnomes from the stories of the old days, but he
was unable to focus his thoughts. Brin had encountered them
when she, Rone Leah, Cogline, Kimber Boh, and the moor cat
Whisper had gone after the missing Sword of Leah. There was
something else, something about a wasteland and the terrifying
creatures that lived within it…
Then he remembered. Werebeasts. The name whispered in
his mind like a curse.
The Spider Gnomes turned down a narrow defile, filling it
with their hairy forms like a dark stain, chittering now in what
appeared to be anticipation. The brightness in the east disap-
peared, and shadows and mist closed about them like a wall.
His wrists and ankles ached, and his body felt stretched beyond
help. The Gnomes were small and carried him close to the
ground so that he bumped and scraped himself at every turn.
He watched from his upside down position as the defile broad-
ened into a shelf that opened out over a vast, mist-shrouded
stretch of emptiness that seemed to run on forever. The shelf
became a corridor through a series of boulders that dotted the
side of Toner Ridge like knots on the back of a boar. Firelight
flickered in the distance, pinpricks of brightness playing hide-
and-seek among the rocks. A handful of Spider Gnomes
bounded ahead, skittering effortlessly over the rocks.
Par took a deep breath. Wherever it was they were going,
they were almost there.
A moment later, they emerged from the rocks and came to a
halt on a low bluff that ran back to a series of burrows and caves
tunneled into the side of the ridge. Fires burned all about, and
hundreds of Spider Gnomes hoved into view. Par was dumped
unceremoniously, the bonds that secured him cut and the pole
removed. He lay there on his back for a moment, rubbing his
wrists and ankles, finding creases so deep that he bled, con-
scious all the time of the eyes watching him. Then he was hauled
to his feet and dragged toward the caves and burrows. They
bypassed the latter in favor of the former, the gnarled hands of
the Gnomes fastened on him at every conceivable point, the
stink of their bodies filling his nostrils. They cluttered at each
other in their own language, their talk incessant now and mean-
ingless to him. He did not resist; he could barely stand upright.
They took him through the largest of the cave openings, pro-
pelled him past a small fire that burned at its mouth and stopped.
There was some discussion, a few moments’ worth at best, and
then he was thrust forward. He saw they were in a smallish cave
that ran back only twenty yards or so and was no more than
eight feet at its highest point. A pair of iron rings had been
hammered into the rock wall at the cave’s deepest point, and
the Spider Gnomes lashed him to those. Then they left him, all
but two who remained behind to take up watch by the fire at the
cave entrance.
Par let his mind clear, listening to the silence, waiting to see
what would happen next. When nothing did, he took a careful
look about. He had been left spread-eagle against the rock wall,
one arm secured to each of the iron rings. He was forced to
remain standing because the rings were fastened too high up on
the rock to allow him to sit. He tested his bonds. They were
leather and secured so tightly mat his wrists could not slip within
them even the smallest amount.
He sagged back momentarily in despair, forcing down the
panic that threatened to overwhelm him. The others would be
looking for him by now-Morgan, Steff, Teel. They would al-