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without light。
The cat padded silently ahead； turning at intervals to rub against him before moving on； leading him slowly through the twisting tunnels。 He had long since given his safety over into the animal's care。 There was nothing else to do； and no use worrying about it。
Something was happening around him； although he could not tell exactly what that something was。 The ghostly presences and strange distortions were even stronger than before； and seemed to e now as regularly as waves dashing themselves upon a beach； sweeping all before them； then ebbing away again。 He hardened himself to the sensations as he had hardened himself to his own aches。
Simon felt his way along the black corridors； Bright…Nail scraping the walls like a beetle's feeler； his fingers trailing through dust and dank moss and cobwebs and other things less pleasant。 He could do nothing but what he was doing。 He had faced the ice…dragon and shouted his name at it； had wandered the emptiness beyond dreams and clung to himself。 He could not turn back from the task that was before him； and he would not。
Bright…Nail seemed to change along with his lightless surroundings。 One moment it was a simple blade slapping against his hip； then a moment later it seemed to throb in time with the convulsions of the castle depths； being for a moment a living thing； at those times； it was hard to tell whether one of them was master； or whether Simon and the sword were； as he and the cat were； two creatures traveling the darkness together in strange partnership。
At such times； he could begin to hear its call in his thoughts； it was a faint presence； only a hint of the song that Guthwutf had seemed to hear； but it was growing steadily stronger。 For brief moments he could almost understand it； as though it spoke to him in a language he had forgotten long ago； but which was slowly surfacing from the place in his memory where it had been buried。 But Simon did not think he wanted to understand what the blade sang。 Perhaps if he wandered long enough； he thought； he would indeed bee like Guthwulf； and hear almost nothing but the sword's pelling music。
He hoped he would not be…in darkness that long。
There came a time when the cat stopped and did not go on。 It wreathed itself around his shins as though it wished to be stroked； when he bent to touch it； it pushed at his fingers with its muzzle； but did not continue on its way。 He waited； finally wondering if he had not put far too much trust in a mere beast。
〃Where next？〃 he said。 His voice scarcely echoed： they were still in one of the narrower passages。 〃Go on； now。 I'm waiting。〃
The cat rubbed against him； purring。 After a few moments； Simon put his hands out and began searching carefully along the walls； looking for something…perhaps a doorway of some kind that did not reach the floor…which might have stopped their progress。 Instead； on a shelf of rock set into the wall； nearly head high； he found a plate and a covered bowl。
I've been here before； he realized。 Unless some madman is leaving food all across the tunnels。 But if so； bless him； bless him anyway。
Simon said a prayer of thanks as he took the bread and dried meat and small wedge of cheese from the plate； then sat down and ate enough of each to feel happier and more prosperous than he had in a long while。 He drank half the bowl of water； then after a moment's consideration； finished it off。 He regretted the lack of a water skin； but if he had to carry the water without one； it might as welt be inside him。
The cat was at him again； butting and purring。 Simon broke off a sizable piece of the jerked meat to share with his guide…the cat took it so quickly its sharp teeth scraped his fingers…then put the remainder in the pocket of his shirt。 He stood。
P 'raps he won't want to lead me anymore； he thought。 This may have been all the little creature wanted。
But the cat； as though some ritual had been successfully observed； slithered in and out between his ankles for a few moments； then started off again。 Simon bent and felt first its head； then its back； then its tail pass beneath his fingers。 He smiled an invisible smile and followed it。
It was so faint at first as to be almost unnoticeable； but gradually Simon realized that the walls around him were slowly being visible。 The light was so dim that for hundreds of paces he thought it was only his eyes playing tricks on him； but eventually he realized that he was seeing the rough surfaces across which he dragged his hands。 The cat； too； had bee a real thing instead of just an idea； a hint of movement on the tunnel floor before him。
He followed the shadow…cat up through the coiling tunnels。 These were rougher hewn than those which traversed the ruins of Asu'a； and he felt a growing certainty that he was back in the mortal castle once more。 As he turned another bend； the dim netherlight became a torch in a wall bracket at the far end of a long passageway。
Light！ Back again！ He fell to his knees； unmindful for a moment of his aching limbs； and pressed his forehead against the stone floor。 He stayed there； trembling。 Light！ He was in the world again。
Thank you； Maegwin。 Bless you。 Thank you； Guthwulf。
The cat was a gray shape against the gray stone。 Something else tugged at his memory。
I've seen that cat before…or have I？ The Hayholt was full of cats。
The air abruptly contracted and the walls shivered and then bowed inward as though to trap him。 An image passed before his mind's eye； a great tree shivering in storm winds； its branches torn loose and spinning away。 For a moment Simon felt as though he had been turned inside…out。 Even when the vision had gone and all was as it had been； he remained on his knees for long moments； panting。
His four…footed guide stopped and looked around to see if he was still following； then continued on； as though the strange slippage was beneath a cat's notice。 Simon clambered to his feet。
The creature paused in an archway。 Simon saw a narrow staircase climbing up into darkness。 The cat bumped his shin but did not move on。
〃Should I go up here？〃 he whispered。 He poked his head into the entranceway。 High above； hidden by the twisting stairwell； another source of light glowed faintly。
He stared at the cat for a moment。 The cat stared back； yellow eyes wide。
〃Very well； then。〃 He touched Bright…Nail； making sure the hilt was not tangled in the rags of his belt； then began to climb。 After a few steps he turned and looked back。 The cat still sat in the middle of the tunnel floor； watching。 〃Aren't you ing？〃
The gray cat stood and slowly sauntered away down the corridor。 Even if it had possessed the gift of speech； it could not more clearly have told him that from this point he was on his own。
Simon smiled grimly。
I suppose there's no cat in the world stupid enough to go where I'm going。
He turned and made his way up the shadowed stairs。 The stairwell opened at last into a broad windowless room imperfectly lit by an open hatch door in the ceiling。 As he stepped out from behind the wooden screen that hid the stairway； he realized that he was in one of the storage rooms below the refectory。 He had been in this place before as well； on the momentous； horrible day when he had discovered Prince Josua in Pryrates' prison cell 。。。 but that time the storeroom had been packed to the ceilings with all manner of food and other goods。 Now the barrels that remained lay empty； many in splinters。 Dusty mantles of spiderweb covered the remains； and the few spatters of flour left on the floor were crisscrossed with the tracks of mice。 It looked as though no one had entered the room for some time。
Up above him； he knew； stood the refectory； and the hundreds of other close…huddled buildings of the Inner Bailey。 Looming over them all was the ivory spike of Green Angel Tower。
As he thought of it； he felt Bright…Nail's song grow a little more insistent。
。。。 go there。。。。 It was a whisper at the farthest edge of his thoughts。
Simon found and replaced the hatchway ladder； which had toppled to the floor； then began to climb。 It creaked ominously； but held。 Beneath its plaining he could hear a faint murmur； as though the hissing voices of the tunnels were following him up from the dark。
The only illumination in the refectory hall was the weak and unevenly pulsing gray light that leaked in through the high windows。 The remaining tables and benches were scattered； some smashed to flinders； but most were gone entirely； perhaps taken to be burned as firewood。 A bleak layer of dust lay everywhere； even on those things which had suffered a violent end； as though the destruction had happened a century before。 A pair of rats scurried across one of the broken tables； paying Simon no heed。
The murmuring noise he had heard was louder here。 The greatest part of it was the wind moaning outside the windows； but there were still hints of voices crying out in pain or anger or fear。 Simon looked up and saw tiny flecks of snow whirling in past the broken shutters。 He thought he could feel Bright…Nail stir； like a hunting beast catching the scent of blood。