"Culaina's hard to describe," said Glurk. "I think she's a sort of wight."

"A sort of wight?" said Pismire.

"You'll have to ask her yourself," said Glurk. "We're going to see her now." Acretongue's head dipped, and he began to plod between the hairs.

"No, we're not," said Bane. "We must go to Ware!"

"Back to Jeopard, you mean!"

"Ware's only a few days away. I have to tell them about this!"

"They might know already," said Pismire, glumly.

"They don't," said Glurk.

"How do you know?"

"We're the only ones who know about the moul army," said Glurk. "We'll have to go to Ware to warn people. But first we've got to go back to talk to Culaina."

"This wight? Why?" said Pismire.

"To tell her what we've seen," said Glurk, smiling in a puzzled kind of way. He scratched his head. "So she can remember what we tell her now and tell me two days ago. When I met her."

Brocando opened his mouth, but Pismire waved him into silence.

"Wights remember the future as well as the past," he said. "But ... look, they never tell anyone, Glurk."

"This one does," said Glurk. "Don't look at me like that. You think I could make this sort of thing up?

CHAPTER 13

"Following you was easy enough," said Glurk. "I mean, twenty people leave a trail, no problem there. Half the time I had to be careful I didn't walk into you. And then I thought ... they're going south in a straight line, so I might as well go on ahead, spy out the land, see what's happening. One person can move a lot faster than twenty, so why not? I'd got a snarg to ride, too. They respond well to a bit of kindness," he said. "Mind you, you have to use quite a lot of cruelty as well. And that's how I met Culaina. She's very strange."

There was a pause. Then Pismire said, "I think we missed something there."

"You'll see where she lives," said Glurk. "I ... er ... I don't think people see it unless she wants 'em to. I've never seen anything like it. And there she was and ... and ... she told me where you were going, and how I could hang on to the bottom of that lifting cart, and pinch the armour off a Vortgorn, and release the pones, and how they could fly ... everything."

"How did she know all this?" Brocando demanded.

"Because we're going to tell her," said Glurk. "Don't ask me how it works."

"They remember forwards as well as backwards," said Bane.

"But they must never tell!" said Pismire. "Otherwise dreadful things could happen!"

"I don't know about that," said Glurk, guardedly. "The way I see it, you've been freed ... that doesn't sound dreadful."

"But we must get back to the tribe," said Pismire.

"And my people!" said Brocando. "They need us!"

"I've been thinking about that," said Glurk. "There's two hundred Munrungs and three thousand Deftmenes, and they're all armed and together and ... they need us? We've got some good lads in the tribe. And Snibril's with them ... isn't he?"

"Er," said Brocando. "Yes. We hope so."

"Right, then. And your people know how to fight. We're four people in a strange land with enemies all over the place ... I think we need them. Anyway, we must see Culaina."

"But she's told you, and it worked," said Brocando. "We can say thank you some other time-"

"No," said Pismire. "If Glurk's right, and she's told him something she remembers from the future, and we don't go ... then, I don't know, anything could happen. The whole fabric of the Carpet could roll up, or something. It would be the worst thing that could ever happen anywhere."

"Worse than-?" Brocando began.

"Worse than anything you could possibly imagine," said Glurk.

They all thought about this.

"She must trust you a lot, then," said Bane.

For the rest of that day the pones moved on. On Acretongue's back the four dozed, or looked out silently at the lengthening shadows. But for most of the time they were each busy with their own thoughts.

Dust grew luxuriantly underfoot, and in it unseen little creatures buzzed and clicked. And growing on the apple-green fluff that draped itself in thick festoons high above were flowers, fluff flowers, bigger than a man, with petals that glittered in a thousand shades of green from deep olive to cool yellow, that gave out a scent that filled the glades and tasted like the colour of green.

"Now this is very interesting," began Pismire, sitting up. It was the first time any of them had spoken in an hour.

He stopped, and stared across the clearing. Every pone turned its head in that direction.

"It's something you don't often see," he added. The others looked where he pointed.

Among the greenery at the far side of the glade a wild pig was watching them solemnly. As they all turned it backed away hastily, and they could hear it crashing off through the hairs.

"That's common enough," grunted Bane.

"It's just that it was brown," said Pismire, "it should have been green. Almost all wild creatures in the Carpet take on the colour of the hairs where they were born. Protective camouflage."

"Perhaps it just wandered here," said Bane.

"No," said Glurk, grinning. "Something brought it here. We're nearly there. You'll be amazed. You really will."

The pones turned, and pushed their way along another track. As they shouldered their way through the thick fronds scores of small creatures scurried away hurriedly. They were all the colours of the Carpet.

And then the pones stepped through ...

Hairs clustered in closely on the borders of a wide clearing, reflecting the dim glow from the thing in its centre.

It was one uncut crystal of sugar. High as the Great Palace of Jeopard, whiter than a bone, the crystal glittered coldly in the green dimness. It caught all the light that filtered through the densely packed dust, and within its marvellous cubic bulk a shifting white glow danced. In parts it shone like polished varnish, reflecting the faces of the creatures that clustered round it.

There were dust rabbits and weft borers of all colours, pigs by the herd, long-necked soraths, patient fat tromps, gromepipers, scurrying goats with spiral horns and creatures even Pismire could not recognize: a scaly thing with spikes on its back, and a long creature that seemed to be all legs. The clearing was filled with the sound of a thousand tongues ... licking.

Acretongue and his herd pounded forward, almost throwing Glurk and the rest out of the saddle. Smaller creatures leapt aside hastily to give them room.

"It's ... beautiful," whispered Brocando at last. Bane stood staring up, gaping. Even Pismire was impressed.

They climbed down from the pone's back and walked gingerly up to the smooth surface. The animals licking the sugar hardly paid them any attention.

Glurk cracked a piece off with his knife, and stood crunching it thoughtfully. "Have a taste," he said, tossing a piece to Bane. Bane bit it cautiously.

"Sugar," said Bane. "I've only ever tasted it once before. There was a crystal down near the Hearthlands. The Emperor used to get it in very small amounts."

"Like honey, but different," said Brocando. "How does it get here?"

"Like Grit, and Salt, and Ash do. From above," said Pismire. "We don't know any more than that."

Instinctively they looked up at the spreading hairs.

"Well, here's our lunch, anyway," Brocando's voice broke the silence. "Take your pick-fried tromp or baked gromer. No wonder they're all colours. This must attract them from everywhere. Mind you," he added, "it hardly seems sporting to kill them while they're not looking."

"So put away your knife," said a new voice.

Pismire choked on his sugar.

A figure stood a little way away. It was tall, with the thin face of a wight, and looked ghostly in the light of the crystal. It had a mass of white hair-it was hard to see where the hair ended and the shapeless long robe began. And she was young, but as she moved sometimes she was old, and sometimes she was middle-aged. Time moved across her face like shadows.