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fact, the most disobedient thains were viewed as having the most potential as vocates.
    The force of Guardians that went north along the Whitewell, in response to the summons of Sharvetr Ûlkhyn, was an army replete with commanders and woefully short on common soldiers. The Summoner Earno was there, with an attendant cloud of thains and vocates. Aloê Oaij and Thea Stabtwice were there, and they had been joined in the jaws of the mountain pass by dry, dark Summoner Lernaion and fifty attendant thains.
    In the end, it was Aloê and Thea who ended up leading the group by the simple expedient of getting up early and walking in the direction they thought most advisable. They listened politely to everyone who gave them advice in the course of the day, but they only conferred with each other.
    That changed one morning on the slopes below Gray Town. The mountain village was completely abandoned—not in a panic, it seemed, and not because of attack from the Khnauronts (as Sharvetr had named them—as good a name as any). The Guardians spent the night indoors there, and the next morning they cautiously descended into Northhold.
    They were negotiating a tricky path down a steep slope, dense with shik-needle trees, when one of the conifers spoke to then: “ Rokhleni! ”
    Aloê and Thea both halted, and the trail of Guardians behind them did likewise.
    A short stocky shape detached itself from the tree and walked up to them. It was a female dwarf, her dark, plaited hair streaked with gray. She was clad in mottled grayish green; there was a longbow and a quiver slung over her broad shoulders and a long knife in her belt.
    â€œ Harven Rynyrth!” called Aloê. “Well met, Rokhlan !” added Thea.
    â€œ Harven Rokhlanclef Aloê,” said Rynyrth kyr Theorn. They were harven to each other because Rynyrth was the daughter of Oldfather Tyr, and Morlock was his harven son. “And Rokhlan Thea. We are well met indeed, but not by accident. Eldest Vetrtheorn knew that Guardians would be travelling north to fight the Khnauronts, and he told us to meet you. I’m glad the Graith sent you two.”
    â€œWe sent ourselves,” Thea said.
    â€œYes, I see that,” Rynyrth replied with a half-smile, glancing up the slope at the trail full of Guardians. “ Weidhkyrren! ” she called out. “Greet your allies!”
    The needle-thick trees gave birth to a company of short, stocky, militant dryads. Aloê’s guess was that their company had doubled in size.
    The Weidhkyrren from Over Thrymhaiam are the huntresses and farmers of the underground realm. Aloê had come to know a few of them over the years, especially their leader Rynyrth, who she would without question want at her side if it came to a life-or-death fight. Vetr the Eldest of Theorn Clan was a steady, honest fellow. His sister Rynyrth was dangerous.
    â€œWhat are your people armed with?” Rynyrth asked. “The latest from my brother Morlock says that distance weapons are best against these beasts.”
    Thea displayed her spear. Aloê shamefacedly presented the knife she had scavenged from the burned-out Raenli homestead, and a club that had, until recently, been a tree branch.
    Rynyrth examined them gravely. “I know you are dangerous with any weapons,” she said. “But my weidhkyrren bring songbows with gravebolts, enough to arm most of you.”
    Aloê dropped her club and sheathed her knife with great relief, accepting the new weapons offered by the dwarves. Thea was more reluctant: she was used to her spear, which was strong enough for stabbing but balanced for throwing. But there was no denying the greater force of the songbow, so she slung her spear over her shoulder for emergencies and adapted to the needs of the moment.
    The gravebolts were much like ordinary arrows, but the shaft of each one contained an impulse well.
    â€œThe gore,” Rynyrth explained to Thea, tapping the