“The language of Chaos?” said Maddy. “But I don’t know it. I’ve never heard of it-”

“Yes, you do,” said One-Eye. “It’s in your blood.”

Maddy looked out across the Hill, where the distant figure of Adam Scattergood was getting smaller and smaller along the Malbry road, occasionally giving vent to a shrill scream of rage as he ran.

“I could have killed him,” she said, beginning to shake.

“Another time, perhaps.”

“Don’t you understand? I could have killed him!”

One-Eye seemed unmoved. “Well, isn’t that what you wanted to do?”

“No!”

He smiled but said nothing.

“I mean it, One-Eye. It just happened.”

One-Eye shrugged and relit his pipe. “My dear girl, things like that don’t just happen.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Oh yes, you do.”

And she did, Maddy realized-she was not the daughter of a smith for nothing. The thing she had thrown at Adam-the mindbolt-had not sprung out of thin air; it had been forged. It had been heavy, like a crossbow quarrel, and she had cast it at Adam with the strength-and intent-of years of pent-up anger.

Once again she felt a moment of dread as she imagined what might have happened if the stone had not taken the impact. And with that fear came the even more terrible knowledge that she could (and would) do it again.

One-Eye must have read her thoughts. “Remember what I taught you?” he said gently. “Fire burns; that’s its nature. Use it or not, but remember this: a mindbolt isn’t a blunderbuss. It won’t go off on its own.” He smiled. “As for the boy-no harm was done. It’s a pity he heard us, of course. It gives us less time. But it changes nothing.”

“Wait a minute,” said Maddy, looking into the open tunnel. “You don’t think we should go in right now, do you? After what happened?”

“After what happened,” said One-Eye, “what choice do we have?”

Maddy thought about that for a time. By now Adam would have made his report-unless he’d stopped to change his trousers-no doubt embellishing it with as many tales of demons as his limited imagination could invent.

Jed Smith would have to be told, and Matt Law, and the bishop, not forgetting Nat Parson, who had been waiting for such a crisis since his legendary pilgrimage to World’s End, and who would be delighted to have such an important violation to deal with. And whatever else happened, the incident would go down in the Malbry ledger alongside the most important events of the village’s history, and Adam Scattergood would be remembered until long after his bones were dust.

The sun was high in the sky now, and the valley was green and gold in its pale light. A little smoke rose over the rooftops, and the scent of burning stubble reached Maddy from afar, filling her eyes with sudden tears. She thought of the smithy and of the tiny house abutting it, of the smell of hot metal and smoke, of the ring of marigolds around the front door.

This was her world, she thought, and until this moment, when she was close to leaving it, she had never realized how much it meant to her. If she fled now, she tacitly admitted her guilt, and things could never go back to what they had been before.

“Is it worth it, One-Eye?” she said. “This Whisperer, whatever it is?”

One-Eye nodded. “It’s worth it,” he said.

“More than gold?” said Maddy.

“Much more than gold.”

Once more Maddy looked out across the valley. She could stay and argue her case, of course. She would at least get a fair hearing. There hadn’t been a hanging in the valley since Black Nell, a saddleback sow with a ruinmark on her back, had eaten her piglets ten years ago. But One-Eye was an Outlander-one of a tribe of beggars and bandits-and his trial was likely to be short and harsh. She had no choice-and besides, with the Hill standing open at her feet and the promise of hidden treasure below, how could she turn away?

The passage was rough-edged and narrow, sloping down into the side of the Hill. She stepped inside, stooping a little, and gingerly tested the earth ceiling. To her relief it was dry and firm; from the depths of the tunnel came a cellar scent. Maddy took another step, but One-Eye stayed where he was, watching her, and made no move to follow.

“Well?” said Maddy. “Are you coming, or what?”

For a moment One-Eye said nothing. Then he slowly shook his head. “I can’t go in there, Maddy,” he said. “He’d recognize me the moment I set foot in World Below. And he’d know at once why I was there.”

“Who would?” said Maddy.

“I wish I could tell you,” he said. “But time is short, and there’s none to spare for a long tale. The treasure you seek-the Whisperer-is no ordinary piece of loot. It may be disguised as a block of glass, a lump of iron ore-even a rock. It’s in its nature to hide, but you’ll know it by its colors, which it can’t disguise. Look for it in a well or a fountain. It may be buried very deep. But if you call it, it will come to you.”

Maddy looked once again into the passageway-it was dark in there, dark as a tomb, and she remembered One-Eye telling her that there were roads beneath the Hill that led all the way to Death, Dream, and beyond…

She shivered and turned to him again. “So-how do we know it’s still there? What if someone’s taken it?”

“They haven’t,” said One-Eye. “I would have known.”

“But you said there were others. And now-”

“Truth is, Maddy,” he interrupted, “I’m not sure if he’s there at all, or what he means to do if he is. But if I come with you and he’s waiting down there with whatever glam he’s managed to hang on to-”

“Who is he?” said Maddy again.

One-Eye gave a twisted smile. “A…friend,” he said. “From long ago. One who turned traitor in the Winter War. I thought he was dead, and maybe he is, but his kind have nine lives, and he always was lucky.”

Maddy started to speak, but he cut her off. “Listen, Maddy. He’s waiting for me. He won’t suspect you. He may not even notice you. And you can find the Whisperer and bring it to me before he sees what’s happening. Will you do it?”

Once again Maddy looked into the Horse’s Eye. It yawned darkly at her feet, as if the Horse were coming awake after centuries of sleeping.

“What about you?” she said at last.

The Outlander smiled, but his good eye gleamed. “I may be old, Maddy, but I think I can still handle a rabble of villagers.”

And perhaps it was a trick of the light, but it seemed to Maddy that her friend had grown taller somehow and looked younger, stronger, his colors brighter and more powerful, as if years had been shorn from him-years, she thought, or maybe more. For Maddy knew that the Winter War had come to its end over five centuries ago; demon wolves had swallowed the sun and moon, and the Strond had swollen to the flanks of the mountains, leveling everything in its path.

Nat Parson called it Tribulation and preached of how the Ancient of Days had tired of mankind’s evil and sent fire and ice to cleanse the world.

One-Eye called it Ragnarók.

“Who are you?” she said.

“Does it matter?” said One-Eye.

He must have seen his answer in Maddy’s face, because he nodded and some of the tension went out of him. “Good,” he said. “Now run and find the Whisperer-or let it find you if it can. Stay hidden, and stay alert. Trust no one, whoever they may appear to be, and above all, say nothing-to anyone-of me.”

“Wait!” said Maddy as he turned away.

“I’ve waited enough,” said the Outlander, and without a glance or a farewell gesture he began to walk back down Red Horse Hill.