The Darkangel by Meredith Ann Pierce Page B

wraiths."
    "He will not let you," said the duarough. "Believe me; your only hope to save them lies in going now and doing as I say."
    Aeriel looked at him a long moment. Half her heart went out to the little vessel, yearned to go skipping away across the water, but the other half still longed after the darkangel, and wished never to leave him.
    "You are not just sending me to safety, then."
    The duarough shook his head. "No safety lies in this departure, Aeriel."
    "You have a task for me to perform."
    This time he nodded. "You must sail downriver through all the caves and under the plains till you come to the gorge where the river emerges. This will put you miles from the castle, and far from the eyes of the gargoyles—oh yes, daughter: well fed no less, they'd bite the hand that's fed them—raise the alarum if you left in their sight. When you come to the gorge, you must leave the boat and traverse the plains and the sanded desert."
    He paused for a moment, took breath in order to collect himself. His words were hurried.
    Aeriel listened.
    "It will be a long trek," he told her. "I know not how long it will take you—many day-months and many to return. You must walk toward Oceanus, walk over the dunes until the Planet hangs directly above you in the heavens and you stand at the center of the world. There you must seek after the starhorse—he of the strong hoof, undying. Bring back what you may of him, for it is by the hoof of the starhorse that the icarus will fall.
    Come now, say me the riddle again, that I may know that you have it fast in your mind."
    Aeriel recited the rime to him then, and indeed it was as clear in her memory as if she had known it since childhood:
    "On Avaric's white plain,
    where the icarus now wings
    To steeps of Terrain
    from tour-of-the-kings,
    And damoiels twice-seven
    his brides have all become:
    Afar cry from heaven
    and a long road from home —
    Then strong-hoof of the starhorse
    must hallow him unguessed
    If adamant's edge is to plunder his breast.
    Then, only, may the Warhorse
    and Warrior arise To rally the warhosts, and thunder
    the skies."
    The little man folded his arms and nodded as he listened.
    "Well enough, then. Good, child. Do not forget it." He unfolded his arms. "Now, as I told you, I do not know how long this journey will take you. I shall try to delay the vampyre, and I shall send you a helpmate if I can." He started. "Oh, I almost forgot."
    He reached into one of his many hidden pockets and pulled out a little sack of black velvet, drawn together at the top with a drawstring. He handed it to her.
    "I have put ample provisions in there for your journey," he said.
    Aeriel gazed at the bag in bewilderment. It lay light and limp in her hand. "But it's empty," she said.
    The duarough smiled. "Not so. Pull it open and look inside."
    Aeriel did so. The interior was black and filled with nothing.
    "Now close your eyes and reach inside," the duarough instructed.
    Aeriel obeyed. She felt something smooth and round, the size of a fist. She pulled it out.
    It was a pale golden fruit.
    "Reach in again," the duarough told her.
    This time Aeriel pulled out an oyster, still damp and cold in its shell. Bidden again by the duarough, she reached in once more and pulled out a handful of almonds. Again—a steamed crayfish wrapped in rushes. Again—a bunch of white grapes. She looked at the duarough. He smiled modestly, blushing a trace.
    "Oh yes, my dear, I am a bit of a magician. One can't help but learn a thing or two in—"
    A shout interrupted him, and then a crash far upstream, several chambers away. It sounded as though some heavy door had just been thrown aside. Aeriel gasped. The duarough paled.
    "By the Pendarlon," he murmured, "he's found the way out already. I am not half the magician I thought I was. Quick, girl, into the boat."
    Aeriel had no time to think, or even to say a word. The duarough was hurrying her into the little craft, which, for all its lightness, hardly dipped when