spied footprints, which looked fresh. Some of them were uncommonly large, and so it was with little surprise that he and Walksfar came in view of Thunk and his band.
They had made a camp atop the very bluff toward which Adam and Walksfar had been heading. So that way was blocked; but, as they soon became aware, members of Thunk’s band were behind them as well. Adam was of a mind to steal away. But Walksfar said, “There is little point in pretending that we have not been noticed.” On his back he had been carrying a long bundle swathed in old blankets. He swung this down and peeled away the tattered fabric to expose the handle of the weapon that Messenger of El had carried on his hip. Its blade was shrouded in a dark sheath, but when Walksfar drew it out just a finger’s width, the light of it dazzled. “Between this,” he said, “and the knife on your belt, we can meet them, should they come for us, with weapons forged by Thingor himself, and I do not think that they will have much relish for that fight.”
Adam was left somewhat bolstered in his confidence as well as embarrassed by his own naivete; for in the earlier fight with Thunk’s band, he had carried the angel’s knife in its sheath the entire time. Never had it entered his mind to wield it against the attackers.
Walksfar stepped out into an open space in view of the bluff and waved an arm above his head and hailed Thunk in a clear voice. As he did so, Adam heard movement in the trees nearby and turned around to see a woman coming into view; she had evidently been following them, but so stealthily that they had not known of her presence until now. It was the woman he had noted before the fight at the boat. Dangling from her hand was that doubled length of cord, a smooth stone nestled in its pocket. Having seen her work before, Adam wondered whether Walksfar’s sword would really have been of any use had she decided to stand off at a distance and pelt them with stones.
But no such thing occurred. Shortly they found themselves up on the top of the bluff being treated cautiously but hospitably by Thunk and the others. Adam recognized some of these. There were two who seemed of a mind to continue fighting where they had last left off. But seeing this Thunk stepped between them and spoke to them: “Adam came last to that fight, and only defended himself and his comrades; if you look askance at him for that, ask what your opinion of him would be had he stood by and done nothing while we struck them all down.”
This seemed to change their thinking and so they altered their posture and stepped back. Thunk greeted the woman, calling her Whirr, and she greeted him back in a very familiar manner.
On the day of the fight, Adam had not had leisure to look closely at Thunk’s people, but now that they were standing at ease around a campfire, he saw various types: some old souls; some newer ones, such as Whirr, who appeared to have developed their forms out in wild places where they had no models or effigies upon which to pattern themselves; and others who had clearly been raised in Elkirk. But even the latter were taller and more erect in their bearings than their counterparts in Eltown, as if merely living in the wild with Thunk and his band caused them to change their forms accordingly.
The vantage point was excellent, affording views both across and down the river. Nodding toward the smudge of the town, now girded in bright green fields, Thunk said, “So those who are pent up yonder now toil to build a new prison for themselves.” His gaze tracked upstream. “Pity that tree is in the way.”
Hearing this Adam was of a mind to speak up in defense of the tree until he saw Thunk and Walksfar exchanging a look. Then he understood that the former had been making a sort of joke, at the expense of Feller. “If it were only Feller and his crew,” said Thunk, glancing at Adam, “I would go and chase them off. But now he comes with an army.”
It was a word Adam had not heard before, but as he saw the souls swarming on the hill he understood it to mean something like