'Nathan!' The caver spokesman had stopped worrying about Nathan's penchant for talking to dead things. 'Someone is coming ...'
Nathan knew where from. The Cavern of the Ancients had an exit out on to a sheer cliff face, with worn and crumbling sandstone steps descending into a gorge. But there was also a tunnel that connected to a Thyre community called Place-Under-the-Yellow-Cliffs. Out of great respect for their dead, the Thyre kept a discreet watch over their resting places. This would be a guardian, whose duty it was to attend the Ancients in their mausoleum.
The cavers were hushed now; Nathan, too, as soft, cautious footsteps sounded from an ascending shaft. A moment later and a figure rose up into view. Female, she blinked curious olive eyes with large, lemon-green pupils. But just inside the cavern she paused, froze, poised as if for flight. She leaned forward on her toes, lifted her chin and sniffed at the cavern's musty air. In her slender hands she carried a bow at the ready, nocked with a long arrow. She saw the three cavers -saw Nathan, too - only a moment after they had seen her.
She wore a red skirt and sandals, nothing else. Her small breasts were loose, pear-shaped, slightly pendulous. Her ears were large; mouth and chin small; nose wide and flattened, with dark-flaring nostrils. Alert, she held herself trembling erect. Graceful, her demeanour was somehow regal. And she was young.
Her youth showed in her large eyes, shining there with a brilliant clarity under the horny ridges of her eyebrows; also in the gleam of her limbs, whose sheen was the natural product of Thyre body oils. Brown as a nut, but at the same time smooth, like all her race she was slender to the point of emaciation.
'Atwei!' Nathan recognized her at once, and stepped forward. Her mouth fell open and she shook her head in disbelief. At the same time he felt her probing his identity, and knowing she was not mistaken. She had known for some little time, but had scarcely dared to believe. Now ... she took a trembling step towards him, then paused and looked at the cavers.
'Friends,' he said.
At which she dropped her weapon and flew across the floor of the Cavern of the Ancients into his arms ... but in the next moment drew back and stood upright, head down, hands clasped in front of her. And: That was unseemly, she said.
He took her into his arms again anyway, and said, 'Little sister.'
'Brother,' she answered. Which was as much a compliment as Rogei calling him son.
But Nathan had no time, and she saw the turmoil of interests in his mind. His people, however, were uppermost. And she knew why. Outside in the open desert, and in Sunside, and especially in Starside, it was sundown.
'Care for my friends here,' he told Atwei, releasing her. 'And don't worry, I'll be back for them.' It seemed very little by way of explanation - little enough to say after almost two years' absence - but explanations must wait. Meanwhile, there were other matters which could not.
He chose weapons for himself, conjured a Mobius door ... then paused and looked at Atwei again. And: 'Sister,' he told her. 'I've been to strange places and learned strange things. Don't be afraid ...'
Because he willed it, his words were deadspeak - which Rogei heard and to which he answered: Take care, Necroscope!
Atwei knew nothing of that, but in Nathan's mind she felt the rush and roar of the numbers vortex and was afraid despite his warning ... especially when he turned to one side, stepped forward a pace -