that didn’t prevent me from sticking to the shadows and the semidarkness, as well as listening cautiously to the silence of the night and the dreary song of the wind. Once or twice it brought me the sound of a child’s cry, distorted by distance, but it was so far away that I tried not to take any notice.
There was a huge gaping hole in one of the houses on my right, and I hastily crossed over to the other side of the street—there was no point in tempting fate. After all, I knew what kind of ugly creature could be lurking in there on this fine night.
A strange white blob took shape in the air ahead of me. I crept up close and studied it curiously. My way past a well-ruined wooden inn with a fancy sign in the form of a fat cat was blocked by a cloud of semitransparent, silvery white mist.
Round and fluffy, looking like a harmless little sheep, it was hanging right in the middle of the street, with its edges not touching the surrounding houses.
I don’t know why, but I got the distinct feeling that some gigantic, fat spider had abandoned a half-finished web. The edges of the substance swayed and trembled, creating an impression of sluggish life. This mist was nothing at all like the June mist of Avendoom, which was yellow and too thick to see through, but this . . .
It was strange, somehow.
I halted about ten yards from this unexpected obstacle, trying to decide what to do next. For had advised me to go across the roofs, but who knew if they would support the weight of a man after all these years? Should I try to slip through? Under the cover of the shadow, pressing close against the wall?
Beyond the silver haze of this strange substance I could see the outline of a human figure. From the height of him, he had to be a giant. His head was level with the roofs of the single-story houses.
As far as I could tell, what I could see up ahead had to be the statue of Sagot.
I had already lifted one foot in order to go over to the wall and slip past the little cloud when I was stopped by that sharp voice ringing out in my head again:
“Stop! Don’t move, if you value your life!”
Harold is an obedient lad, and I froze as still as a scarecrow in a village vegetable garden. It was only a few agonized heartbeats later that I realized the archmagician had come back again and it was his voice. I was about to tell Valder exactly what I thought of him, but before I could, he barked: “Quiet! Not a sound! That rabid beast is blind, but there’s nothing wrong with its hearing! Speak in thoughts, I can hear you perfectly well.”
“You promised to leave me alone!”
“Then where would you have been? In the jaws of the irilla?”
“I don’t understand.”
“That’s what you’re looking at.”
I stared hard at the cloud.
“I read about this creature spawned by the Kronk-a-Mor in the ancient tomes when . . .”—the voice hesitated—“. . . when I was still alive. Irillas are blind, they like deserted places.”
“How do they hunt?” I asked doubtfully. “A blind hunter—that’s something new.”
“I already told you. They have excellent hearing.”
“I think it would have grabbed me ages ago, if everything you say is true,” I thought.
“Don’t deceive yourself. The irilla heard you two hundred yards away. It’s still waiting for you to approach it.”
“It’ll have a long wait. What kind of fool does it take me for? I’ll have to find another way round.”
“As soon as you take a step back, it will attack. You have to deceive it.”
“I wonder how?” I snorted, keeping my eyes fixed on the calmly quivering clump of mist. “And what do you care if it eats me?”
Valder was silent for a long time. “I have been given life again after a long wait in oblivion. Life, and not a gray nothingness from which it is impossible to move into either the darkness or the light. Although I exist in another’s body, where I am regarded as an uninvited guest, that is still better than nothing. Let me fall asleep, I will not hinder you, and perhaps sometimes I will be able to help. Do not drive me out . . .”
“Okay, it’s a deal. You can stay for the time being.” I had come to the conclusion that the