* * *
Four unions in a row was enough. Windrush's mind was ringing, but he was satisfied. "Leaders!" he called out. "I leave these four to continue the search for the traitor. I trust them completely."
"As we trust Windrush," called Stronghold, echoed by the other three.
The gathered dragons rumbled restlessly, but Windrush continued without pause. "I must now search elsewhere for knowledge that may be vital to us." Weary though he was, he felt an urgent need to continue his search of the underrealm.
Farsight's gaze touched Windrush's just enough to murmur silently,
(If you find FullSky again, tell him of our need.)
(I think he knows already, better than we do,)
Windrush said.
With a throaty rumble, he left the gathering and took to the air at once for the mountains north of the camp, and his cavern.
Floating in the dark, the troubled rigger-spirit was going crazy with the taunting of the cavern sprites. They seemed to be everywhere around him, plaguing him for no apparent reason.
"Can't make up his mind, he can't."
"Poor Hodakai." Giggle.
"Poor, poor Hodakai."
"
Shut up!
" he screeched, which only made them laugh and giggle all the harder.
They knew just how to get to him. Hodakai had been obsessed, lately, with trying to decide what to do about Rent, and the dragon. Rent was becoming increasingly hard-edged about trying to get him to join up with Tar-skel. The last time they had talked, Rent had warned him that if he did not agree to help soon, he might be cast from his present isolation into a spirit-dungeon that would be far worse.
That had made him angry. Angry and frightened and confused.
He didn't know what he was going to do.
In particular, Rent had been trying to convince him to entrap the dragon the next time the serpent made contact. Hodakai wasn't at all sure that this was something he wanted to do. It wasn't that he was feeling any particular affection for the dragon, but he didn't like the risk. He wasn't much of a risk taker, really—never had been—notwithstanding the one, eternally regretted time when he and his partner had stupidly gone looking for dragons.
Furthermore, there was something the dragon had reminded him of last time that had stuck in his mind: that it was the
Tar-skel
dragons who had imprisoned him here, then abandoned him. And the Tar-skel dragons were on the same side as Rent. Tar-skel controlled the power that could allow Hodakai to walk as a man again, as Rent was so fond of reminding him. But it was Tar-skel, really, who had stripped him of his body in the first place.
It was Tar-skel who had the power to enslave.
The power to free from slavery.
The power to embrace the entire realm in a web of sorcery that might never be broken, if the ambitions that Hodakai had heard trumpeted were true.
These were powers that Hodakai had once found fascinating, in a morbid sort of way. But upon deeper reflection, he now found them terrifying. They certainly didn't make him want to
trust
Tar-skel.
Hodakai scarcely knew what he wanted anymore. His feelings were increasingly at odds with everything he thought he had decided in the past. He found himself almost wishing that the dragon would visit him again, just so that he would be forced to make a decision one way or another.
"Hodakai, Hodakai!"
"Rent will be so . . . so . . . angry . . . !"
"
You
sprites, SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!
" he bellowed, dancing furiously in his prison. He could not wait for the dragon to visit again.
It would be good to know at last what his decision was going to be.
* * *
Windrush's cavern seemed a place of cold silence, removed from the dangers of treachery and war. He knew, of course, that this could be a deadly illusion. His safeguards had already been breached, after a fashion, by the ifflings and by FullSky. A sufficiently sorcerous enemy, if it knew or cared about where to find Windrush, could probably defeat his guarding spells. Windrush watched two of the sweepers scurrying across the floor with his fallen scales, and he felt a momentary suspicion. Could these small creatures be spies of the Enemy? He smelled carefully in their direction, and found nothing but the smell of innocence. What did the sweepers care about the matters of the larger world? Their highest cares were about the shapes of the tiny scale-sculptures that they left about the cavern. Windrush noted a new one, a slender, bent-tipped pyramid of gleaming silver, in the corner.
Settling down, the dragon turned his attention inward. His mind was afire with images and worries, hopes and cares. Sleep was impossible. He let his thoughts sink deeper.
The underrealm was like a quiet, hissing ocean, after the distress of the outer world. The windows, all but one, remained exactly as he had last seen them, surrounding his cavern with opportunities to mystery and danger. The one exception was the passage that had led him into the wilderness with FullSky. That one was now missing, as if it had never existed.
He thought of the ifflings, and wondered if they had succeeded in reaching Jael. Whether they had or not, he knew he had to continue his search as best he could. Today Tar-skel had defeated them, badly. He had done so by knowing in advance what the dragons were doing, while the dragons struggled in ignorance. There had to be a way for Windrush to learn sooner of his adversary's intended actions. There just had to be.
Windrush turned, somewhat doubtfully, to the window that led to Hodakai.
* * *
The imprisoned spirit seemed even more agitated than usual when Windrush made contact. The dragon allowed his kuutekka to take form within sight of the rigger-spirit—which seemed only to alarm it.
One
called Hodakai, why are you so nervous?
Windrush asked, attempting to sound solicitous.
Ah
,
dragon—it
is you,
Hodakai said, twitching uneasily.
It
is
I
. Windrush waited, hoping the spirit would settle down.
Have you given any more
thought
to
our
last
discussion?
The figure of light danced, becoming even more agitated.
What
are
you talking about?
Windrush shook his head at the creature's excitability.
About
the wisdom of choosing the right friends. Don't you
remember?
I
believe I pointed out to you that your present friends were unlikely to be trustworthy in the long run.
The spirit-flame became almost still.
I do recall something of the sort, I suppose.
Windrush waited for the invective that would surely follow. When none did, he said,
I perceive that you have a certain sense of honor, Hodakai. It's a worthy quality.
If you think to flatter
—
Not
at all. Why would you need it?
Then what—?
I was simply wondering if you'd become disillusioned yet with the other side. You see, they
have no
sense
of honor.
Hodakai hmmphed for a moment. His spirit-presence seemed to bend in thought.
Tell me something, dragon.
Yes?
What is it you want from me? I'll tell you right now that I can't help you find your precious Dream Mountain.
Windrush considered that assertion. It might be truth, or might not. But there was no good in trying to argue the point.
That is not the only thing we need,
he said finally.
What else, then?
The dragon took his time in answering.
It
would certainly help us . . . to know more about the Enemy and his plans for battle.
Hodakai laughed.
You
don't
want
much
,
do
you?
Well . . . perhaps it is a lot.
Windrush let a small plume of steam spiral up from the nostrils of his underrealm image.
But
anything
we can learn
increases
our
chances
of ridding
the realm of him and his terror.
The spirit-flame shivered.
I
see
.
And
,
of course, you have in mind some benefit that
I
will
see
from helping you?
Windrush rumbled with impatience.
You will benefit the same as the rest of us. I
cannot
promise you any reward,
Hodakai. I cannot even promise you freedom from your spirit jar—except, possibly, for your flight to the Final Dream
Mountain.
The other says that he can let me walk again as a man,
Hodakai sniffed.
So
you have told me. And as you have pointed out, I cannot do that.
Windrush paused.
But
—
What?
Think of the price you might pay for choosing the other side.
The spirit snorted, but did not seem altogether certain of itself.
What price, pray tell?
Your
garkkon-rakh, Hodakai. Your soul.
Hah. So you say!
Windrush hissed at the spirit, silencing him.
I
note
, he said,
that you have not
chosen
the
other's
side, in all this time. I think you know that I am right. As I said, you
do
have a sense of
honor
.
I
will
be truthful: on our side, it is possible you will lose your life. But at least if you fly to the Final Dream
Mountain
,
you will do so with honor.
Hodakai twitched, bending and straightening. He did not speak for a long time. Windrush, sensing that the spirit was deep in thought, did not interfere. Suddenly Hodakai made a stabbing movement toward him.
I
can tell you this,
he hissed.
The
danger
is
greater than you think. Far greater.
Windrush exhaled silently.
What do you mean?
Hodakai's voice grew stronger and harsher.
You
are
concerned
about your petty realm here. But to Tar-skel, your realm is just one little stepping-stone to a much greater sorcery. Each victory here takes him a step closer to
ruling
space
itself
.
You think
of
weavings
in
the
underweb;
I
speak of great edifices of power
being
shaped—all so that he can reach out of this
realm
,
out
of the Flux, even into what you call the static realm.
His ambitions
are
terrifying, dragon! You and your people are only pebbles to be ground underfoot. I don't think you
can
stop
him
.
But
if you're going to try, you'd better do it soon. Once his web is complete, you will never break it.
The rigger-spirit fell silent, but his words seemed to ring on in the emptiness of the underrealm. Windrush's thoughts reverberated with memories of the lumenis vision, and warnings made by FullSky and by the ifflings. He did not doubt Hodakai's words.
And
you are right about one other thing,
Hodakai continued, in a softer voice.
Without
the
Dream
Mountain
,
you have
no
hope. That is why he has hidden it from you.
You
must find it—before he becomes its master.
Before?
Windrush asked in surprise.
Does
he not control it now?
Hodakai hesitated, then shook his fiery head.
I
don't think so, no. He holds it. But he is not its master.
Not
yet. At least, that is my impression.
He
seems
to
want something from it that he can't have.
Windrush studied the rigger-spirit with no small astonishment.
Will you not help us find it?
he asked softly.
I told you. I do not know the way. I do not have the answers you want.
Hodakai was starting to sound wary again, as though for a few moments he had mustered his courage, and now was losing it again.
Perhaps not. But you could watch. You could listen. You could tell us what you hear of the Enemy's plans. In that way, you could help us defeat him.
The spirit flickered.
I . . . perhaps, yes. But how would I . . . that is, you have not even told me your—
My name is Windrush, son of Highwing,
the dragon said abruptly—and in afterthought, added,
That you may call me, and to that I will answer.
He wondered if the spirit understood by his qualifying statement that he was not granting him full exchange of trust, but just the first step toward trusting one another.
I
give
you the sound of my name, Hodakai, though not yet the fullness of my being. We are now equal, in that respect.
Windrush,
the spirit repeated suspiciously.
Windrush. And how might I reach you?
It is not safe for you to try. I will reach you.
The dragon was suddenly aware of something shifting in the underweb around him—and of Hodakai becoming nervous.
Begone
,
dragon,
the spirit hissed.
At
once!
As Windrush cautiously began to withdraw his kuutekka, Hodakai screamed,
BEGONE
,
DRAGON!
I WILL HAVE
NOTHING TO
DO
WITH
YOU!
BEGONE
,
YOU
DEVIL
,
YOU FOUL
WORM!
Windrush retreated hastily, breaking the contact. The underrealm seemed to swirl around him even as he pulled back from the connection. Something was approaching Hodakai from another direction, but he could no longer sense it. Was it the Enemy, or one of his servants?