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Even with all that had happened in the previous days； I had never yet felt so frightened； but I knew Tellarin was down there in the dark places。 I made the sign of the Tree upon my breast then stepped on to the stairway。
At first I could find no trace of them。
As I descended； the light of my single candle served only to make the stairwell seem more than ever like a shadowy throat waiting to swallow me； but fear alone could not keep me from my beloved … if anything； it sped my steps。 I hurried downward until it seemed I must have gone as far beneath the castle as the Angel Tower loomed above it； but still I had not caught up with them。
Whether it was a trick of sound； or of the winds that are said to blow through the caves of the Kingslake cliffs； I continued to hear unfamiliar voices。 Some seemed so close that if I had not had a candle； I would have been certain I could reach out and touch the person who whispered to me； but the flickering light showed me that the stairwell was empty。 The voices babbled； and sometimes sang； in a soft； sad tongue I did not understand or even recognize。
I knew I should be too frightened to remain； that I should turn and flee back to moonlight and clean air； but although the bodiless murmurs filled me with dismay； 1 felt no evil in them。 If they were ghosts； I do not think they even knew I was there。 It was as though the castle talked to itself； like an old man sitting beside the fire； lost in the memories of days long past。
The stairwell ended in a wide landing with open doorways at either end； and I could not help thinking of the doorways mentioned in my stepfather's book。 As I paused to consider which way I should go； I examined the carvings on the walls； delicate vines and flowers whose type I had never seen before。 Above one doorframe a nightingale perched on a tree bough。 Another tree bough was carved above the far doorway … or rather； I saw as I moved my candle； they were both boughs from one single tree； which had been carved directly above me； spreading across the ceiling of the stairwell as though I myself were the tree's trunk。 On the bough above the second doorway twined a slender serpent。 I shuddered； and began to move towards the nightingale door； but at that moment words floated up out of the darkness。
'。。。 if you have lied to me。 I am a patient man； but。 。。'
It was my stepfather； and even if I had not recognized his faint voice； I would have known him by the words； for that is what he always said。 And he spoke the truth … he was a patient man。 He had always been like one of the stones of the hilltop rings； cool and hard and in no hurry to move growing warm only after the sun of an entire summer has beat upon him I had sometimes felt I would like to break a stick upon him； if only to make him turn and truly look at me。
Only once did he ever do that； I had believed … on that day when he told me that 'they' had taken everything from him。 But now I knew he had looked at me another time； perhaps seen me smile on a day when my lover had given me a gift or a kiss； and had written in his book； Breda happy Today。
My stepfather's words had drifted up through the other doorway。 I lit another candle and placed it on top of the first； which had burned almost to the holder； then followed the voice of Sulis through the serpent door。
Downward I went； and downward still farther … what seemed a journey of hours； through sloping； long…deserted corridors that twisted like yarn spilled from a sack。 The light of the candles showed me stone that； although I knew it was even more ancient； seemed newer and brighter than that which I had seen farther above。 In places the passageways opened into rooms choked with dirt and rubble； but which must have been massive； with ceilings as high as any of the greatest halls I have ever heard of in Nabban。 The carvings I could see were so delicate； so perfect； that they might have been the actual things of nature … birds； plants； trees … frozen into stone by the sort of magical spells that so often had been part of my mother's and Ulca's stories。
It was astonishing to think that this entire world had lain in its tomb of earth below us as long as we had lived in the High Keep； and for generations before that。 I knew I was seeing the ancient home of the fairy…folk。 With all the stories； and even with the evidence of the tower itself； I had still never imagined they would have such a way with stone； to make it froth like water and shimmer like ice； to make it stretch overhead in slender arcs like the finest branches of a willow tree。 Had the Northmen truly killed them all？ For the first time； I understood something of what this meant； and a deep； quiet horror stole over me。 The creators of all this beauty； slaughtered； and their houses usurped by their slayers … no wonder the darkness was full of unquiet voices。 No wonder the High Keep was a place of haunted sadness for everyone who lived in it。 The castle of our day was founded on ancient murder。 It was built on death。
It pulled at me； that thought。 It became tangled in my mind with the memory of my stepfather's distracted stare； of the witch in chains。 Good could not e from evil； I felt sure。 Not without sacrifice。 Not without blood and atonement。 My fear was growing again。
The peaceful Ones might have been gone； but I was learning that their great house remained lively。
As I hurried downward； following the tracks of my stepfather and his pany in the dust of centuries； I found suddenly that I had taken a wrong turning。 The passage ended in a pile of broken stone； but when I returned to the last cross…corridor； there was no sign of footprints； and the place itself was not familiar； as though the ruins themselves had shifted around me。 I closed my eyes； listening for the sound of Tellarin's voice； for I felt sure that my heart would be able to hear him through all the stone in Erkynland。 But nothing came to me but the ghost…murmurs； which blew in like an autumn breeze； full of sighing； rustling nonsense。
I was lost。
For the first time it became clear to me what a foolish thing I had done。 I had gone into a place where I should not be。 Not one person knew I was there； and when my last candle burned out； I would be lost in the darkness。
Tears started in my eyes； but I wiped them away。 Weeping had not brought my father back； or my mother。 It would do me no good now。
I did my best to retrace my steps； but the voices flittered around me like invisible birds； and before long I was wandering blindly。 Confused by the noises in my head and by the flickering shadows； twice I almost tumbled into great crevices in the passageway floor。 I kicked a stone into one that fell without hitting anything until I could not bear to listen any longer。
The darkness seemed to be closing on me； and I might have been lost for ever … might have bee another part of the whispering chorus … but by luck or accident or the hand of fate； I made a turning into a corridor I did not recognize and found myself standing at the lip of another stairwell； listening to the voice of the witch Valada drift up from the deeps。
'。。。 not an army or a noble household that you can order about； Lord Sulis。 Those who lived here are dead； but the place is alive。 You must take what you are given 。。。'
It was as though she had heard my very thoughts。 Even as I shuddered to hear my forebodings spoken aloud； I hurried towards the sound； terrified that if it faded I would never again hear a familiar voice。
What seemed another hour went by； although I had been so long in the haunted dark that I was no judge。 Mu lover and the rest seemed almost to have bee phantoms themselves； floating ahead of me like dandelion seeds； always just beyond my reach。
The stairs continued to curl downward； and as my third and fourth candles burned I could see glimpses of the great spaces through which we all descended； level upon level； as if making a pilgrimage down the tiers of Heaven。 At times； as the candles flickered on the wooden base； I thought I could see even more。 From the corner of my eye the ruins seemed to take on a sort of life。 There were moments when the ghost…voices swelled and the shadows seem to take on form。 If I half…closed my eyes； I could almost see these bleak spaces full of bright； laughing folk。
Why did the Northmen kill such beauty？ And how could a people who built such a place be defeated by any mortals； however bloodthirsty and battle…hungry？
A light bloomed in the depths； red and yellow； making the polished stone of the stairwell seem to quiver。 For a moment I thought it only another wisp of my imagination； but then； from so close it seemed we could kiss if we wished； I heard my beloved's voice。
'Do not trust her sire；' Tellarin said； sounding more than a little fearful。 'She is lying again。'
Intensely happy； but with my caution abruptly restored； I shaded the candle with my palm and hurried down the stairs as quietly as 1 could。 As their voices grew louder； and I saw that the light blooming in the darkness came from their torches； I pinche