THE child moved cautiously through the maze of rock, pausing to stare at the tortured shapes. He had crawled among them before he could walk and he was not afraid. He knew that once these rocks had screamed. Now they were always silent, and red and golden lichens encroached on their darkness. His startling eyes seemed the only live thing in the grave, young face as the child stealthily continued his search. He came to the rock which always reminded his father of a marsh cat. It looked the same as ever, but when the child touched the Cat Rock its stone felt warm and vibrated to a giant purr.

"I've found you!"

His yell of triumph gave way to a squeal of mock terror as the Cat Rock shimmered and a flaxen-haired young man swept him into his arms.

"Hah, a Dik bird who's forgotten the way to his own nest would be quicker finding it than you were catching me!"

Ellandellore's green eyes sparkled as he whirled the child round before setting him down on the white sand.

"Much longer and you would have missed seeing your father's ship come in."

"He's really back? He's coming?"

"Do you doubt my word?"

Ellandellore was all affronted dignity, but the child was not deceived.

"I wish I could see things from far off. Will you teach me?"

"No."

"Will you show me how to make myself look like a rock?"

He tugged at the sorceror's sleeve. Ellandellore smiled charmingly and repeated "No".

"Will you make the rocks scream for me then?"

"No!"

The sorceror was still smiling but the child looked up at him sharply.

"Have I made you angry, or sad? Didn't you like it when the rocks screamed?"

"No, no and no," answered Ellandellore. "Come on, we must climb to the citadel and see the ship come in."

"Why won't you teach me things?" persisted the child, as they began walking.

"You learn quickly enough by yourself," murmured Ellandellore.

"Is it because father was angry when I told him what he was thinking? I did explain that it wasn't your fault."

"I'm extremely grateful," said Ellandellore solemnly.

They came to the edge of the rocks and began to climb towards the crest of the highest hill on Cheransee.

"After all," continued the sorceror, "I might risk your father's anger, but I have made a promise to your mother that I dare not break."

"Dare not? But mother wouldn't hurt anyone!"

Ellandellore looked down at the child's puzzled face.

"No, but there can be a great strength in gentleness. I had to learn that and so must you, Kerish."

They climbed in silence for a while, with their backs to the sea. As the path curved southwards the plain spread out before them and they smelled the smoke and heard the noise of the city of exiles. It was still a growing city. There were newcomers' tents, flying the flags of all the Nine Cities, amongst the simple turf and timber buildings. Refugees were reaching Cheransee from all over Galkis, some escaping from the occupied south, some fleeing from the tyranny of Zyrindella in the north.

Ellandellore gazed down at the young city that he had sworn to protect, but the child was soon pulling at his arm for attention.

"Can I come and stay with you again?"

"Not this year," answered the sorceror. "You'll be long enough away on your visit to Vethnar. Don't scowl. He'll be delighted with you, since you ask almost as many questions as he does. I think you'll like him too."

"Oh I do ... I mean, I will."

Ellandellore quickly knelt to embrace the trembling child.

"What is it Kerish?"

The answer was always the same. "I don't know. The other one came."

No one could stop these sudden tremors, or reason the boy out of believing that there was another person inside him.

"Will it be all right when I'm older?" he would ask; "Will we grow together?"

Adults were quick to reassure him, but he sensed their disquiet and refused to be comforted.

Kerish-lo-Seldon wriggled out of Ellandellore's arms.

"Come on, you said we must hurry..."

Ellandellore stood up, his green eyes dangerously flecked with gold.

"True, so you'd better race me to the top!"

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