rose.Then he forgot about the smell. The walls were pitted with smaller hollows, some blocked with slabs of stone. From inside one he caught the hiss of a wolverine.His heart quickened. Where there was a wolverine, maybe there was also a wolf.He gave a low grunt-whine that Wolf would be sure to recognize. It's me!No answer. Disappointment crashed over him like a wave. If Wolf was still alive, he wasn't here."Stop whining," growled the Soul-Eater, "and keep up! If you get lost down here, we'll never find you again."More tunnels, until Torak's head whirled. He wondered if the Soul-Eater had chosen a winding route on purpose, to make him lose his bearings. Behind that sharp face, he sensed a quick mind. Twisted legs and flying thoughts. That was what the Walker had said.They emerged into a vast cavern--and Torak faltered. Before him loomed a forest. A forest of stone.Shadowy thickets reached upward, seeking sunlight they would never find. Stone waterfalls froze in an147endless winter. As Torak followed the lurching torchlight, a sickly warmth made the sweat start out on his brow. He heard a furtive trickling; glimpsed still pools and twisted roots. He caught nightmare flashes of figures draped in stone: some crouching above him, some half hidden in water. When he looked again, they were gone, but he felt their presence: the Hidden People of the Rocks.The Soul-Eater led him to a massive trunk of greenish stone that looked as if it had been hacked to a stump by some act of unimaginable violence. He heard movement, and knew he was being watched.His foot caught on a root, and he tripped and fell. Laughter rang through the cavern."What's this, Nef?" said a woman's mocking voice. "Have you brought us your fosterling at last?"Torak's heart began to pound. He'd managed to deceive one Soul-Eater. He'd need all his wits to deceive the others.Groveling where he lay, he began to whine. "No, no, don't make me look upon the face of power!""Not that again!" grunted Nef. "He won't even dare look at me!"Torak felt a flicker of hope. If they hadn't seen the White Fox boy's face ...A cold finger slid down his cheek, making him flinch. "If he daren't look at Nef the Bat Mage," a148woman whispered in his ear, "dare he look upon Seshru the Viper Mage?"She drew back his hood, and he found himself staring into the most perfect face he'd ever seen. Slanting lynx eyes of fathomless blue; a mouth of daunting beauty. Dark hair, drawn back from a high white brow, revealed a stark black line of tattooed arrowheads, like the markings on a snake.Fascinated yet repelled, he met the peerless gaze, while the Viper Mage studied him as a hunter regards its kill.Her lovely features tightened with contempt--but nothing more. She didn't know who he was. "He's thin for a White Fox," she said. "Nef, you disappoint me. You've found us a runt." Her chill fingers slid inside the neck of his parka, and she smiled. "What's this? He has a knife!""A knife?" said the Bat Mage.The knife that Fin-Kedinn had made for him hung in its sheath from a thong about his neck. Now it was gone: lifted over his head and tossed to Nef."He has a knife!" jeered a man's voice as rich and deep as an oak wood. An enormous figure loomed from the darkness, and before Torak could resist, he was seized, and his arms twisted so viciously that he screamed.More laughter, blasting him with the eye-stinging tang of spruce-blood. "Should I be frightened, Seshru? "149mocked the man. In his bulky reindeer-hide clothes, he seemed to fill the cavern. "Does he mean to threaten the Oak Mage?"Torak stared into a face as hard as sun-cracked earth. The beard was a twiggy thicket, the mane a russet tangle. The eyes that bored into his were a fierce leaf green. "Does he mean to threaten?" repeated the Oak Mage in a tone of menacing softness.Torak felt as helpless as a lemming trapped by a lynx."Thiazzi, leave him!" snapped the Bat Mage. "We need him alive, not dead of fright!"The Viper Mage arched her white throat and
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