A Cold Cry

A Challenge

It was morning, and Carras had rested well and eaten. Now he stood beside Culathan as they gazed out a tall window onto the mountainside.

"The storm is lessening, Lord Carras," said Culathan. "You will soon be going your way."

Carras leaned against the window's frame and stared at the other man, as though he would pierce that grave mask and know what lay behind. "My lord, you told me yestereve that I was near the evil that I sought."

Culathan looked searchingly on the other. "I said so," he acknowledged quietly.

"You also said that I would not find it."

"And you will not."

Carras took a half-pace toward him. "My lord Culathan, will you not help me? You are a man of knowledge and wisdom. Is there nothing you can give me to aid me in my search?"

"Lord Carras!" And though Culathan did not raise his voice, Carras drew back in fear at the flash of power revealed in the man's word. "When I say that you will not find it, I mean that no man alive or dead or yet to be born on this earth, whether he be legaeësse or ethenn or thangrisser, can find this thing."

"My lord Culathan," said Carras softly, shaken by the peril he had beheld and bewildered in mind. "Why?"

The kindness he had seen before welled in those cold, dark eyes. "Because, Lord Carras, there is no evil."