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regions that they could control, but with Lord Arrin this problem was solved. Solved, that was, as long as he himself did not become too haggish through association. That is why he desperately craved Siv for his mate. She who could resist the fyngrot, would thwart those haggish tendencies, would make him immune to that one vulnerability he had learned by Pleek’s example.
    The lesson of Lord Pleek and Ygryk was a harsh one. For as soon as Pleek had taken Ygryk as a mate, he had begun to acquire certain haggish aspects and was now beginning to fear open water. The union between the Great Horned and the hagsfiend had proved to be a chick-less one. Eggs were laid but they never developed. After a few days, they shriveled up into gray, hard, misshapen spheres. Nonetheless, Lord Arrin and Penryck had discussed how they might best use Pleek and Ygryk in obtaining Siv’s chick. Ygryk longed for a chick of her own. She was desperate, so desperate that she was willing to fly over open water to get one if need be. She was obsessed. It had been Ygryk who had actually found Siv on the iceberg in the firthkin.
    And it was Ygryk who had just informed Penryck that Siv had left the iceberg. Penryck stepped out of the shadows now. “Lord Arrin, I have just received news from Ygryk that Queen Siv has left the iceberg in the firthkin.”
    “Left? She has left?” Lord Arrin was aghast. “What now? How will we ever find the chick?”
    Penryck stepped closer to Lord Arrin and, leaning in to him, whispered something in his ear slit. Lord Arrin cringed. The stench of these hagsfiends was overpowering. He wondered if one ever became accustomed to it.But he was soon distracted from such trivialities as he listened to the hagsfiend’s whispers.
    “It is as I always thought, my lord. The egg was never there with Siv. The chick did not hatch at the firthkin, and if it did it would have been much too young to fly—certainly not against those spring winds of the firthkin. If Siv left, she must have been alone.”
    Lord Arrin blinked. He’s right. Penryck is right. “But what now, Penryck?”
    “Don’t you see, Lord Arrin, it is a blessing.” It was very odd hearing a hagsfiend say a word like “blessing.” A blessing was associated with Glaux, with faith, but never with magic. The word sounded curious from the beak of a hagsfiend, something like the krakish word for blood, “bleshka.”
    “How so?” Lord Arrin asked.
    “A mother yearns for her chick. If we find her, we can follow her. She will lead us right to the chick.”
    “Aaaah.” Lord Arrin blinked. His amber eyes glowed with this sudden realization.
    Penryck wondered yet again how stupid these owls were. Not only did they have no magic but they, who thought that hagsfiends brains were primitive, had their own unique ignorance. Lord Arrin might imagine that he, Penryck, was working for him, but in truth it was quitethe reverse. Penryck himself had a grand scheme for domination, and if they could seize the chick…well…the world would be Penryck’s and he would not be just king of the N’yrthghar but the god of the nachtmagen universe.
    The other owls and hagsfiends whispered among themselves as Lord Arrin and Penryck continued to confer.
    “We need the best trackers,” Lord Arrin was saying in a low voice.
    “Well, we know who that is!” Penryck churred. But it was not the soft gentle laughter of owls. Instead, it sounded rather like ice fracturing.
    “Ygryk! How convenient.”
    Penryck nodded.
    “Invite her and Pleek to the war room,” Lord Arrin said, and then paused. “Of course, we won’t let Ygryk actually keep the chick. She could be its foster mother, nanny, nursemaid, perhaps.”
    Penryck shook his head. “No, that will never do. She will want to possess the chick entirely.”
    Lord Arrin blinked. “Well then, there is only one choice.”
    Penryck nodded.
    “She will be slain as soon as she leads us to the chick.”
    “Precisely,” Penryck