Rage groaned. Her hands, feet, and face burned as if they were on fire. She would have screamed, but her throat ached as if she had already yelled herself hoarse. Somewhere she could hear a deep, muffled howling.

She felt the same soft, wet warmth on her face that had wakened her. Heartened, she forced her eyelids apart, but it was too dark to see anything. Nevertheless, a breath of hot air told her that someone was leaning over her. The soft wetness brushed her again. A tongue! And when she felt fur tickling her cheek, she knew that it was Billy licking her face.

“What happened?” she croaked, trying to rise. There were blankets over her, heavy and peculiarly stiff. She tried again to sit but had no strength left. Billy nuzzled the front of her jacket, caught hold of it, and dragged her upright. She flopped forward when he let go. She stretched her hands out and found Billy’s soft form. She held on to him with one arm and put the other back to hold herself up. Her fingers brushed cold, damp wood.

Where on earth was she?

Rage listened to the booming howl of storm winds outside. Then she knew exactly where she must be: the hikers’ hut in her world! Her last memory was of struggling through the snow and falling. She must have hit her head and, while unconscious, dream-traveled to the world of Bleak. Meanwhile, Billy had dragged her to the hikers’ hut, got the door open somehow, and pulled the fire blankets over her.

Rage pulled Billy close, whispering, “You saved my life.”

She massaged life back into her stiff limbs and then got clumsily to her feet, realizing that she was still wearing her pack. Billy had not been able to undo the buckles with his teeth, of course. No wonder she had been lying so awkwardly. Shrugging the pack off, she felt in the side pocket for the matches in plastic and the stump of candle she kept there. It took three matches before she managed to light the candlewick, and then she took out her thermos. It was eerie to find it full of the hot chocolate she had drunk already in another world. She drank half a mug and poured a bit in the lid for Billy to lap up. Then she gave Billy some dog biscuits and ate one of the sandwiches.

There was no telling how long the raging storm would last. Rage paced for a while longer, but eventually she grew tired and got back under the thermal blankets with Billy. He fell asleep almost at once, head in her lap. She kissed him gently and thought what a fool she had been to set off, knowing a bad storm was approaching. Hadn’t Mam warned her a million times how dangerous the cold could be? She had been so set on discovering if the bramble gate was still there that she had been deaf to common sense.

She wished Billy could talk to her because she would have liked to hear what he thought about what had happened in Bleak. He was sure to have some clever, unusual idea about what had become of Elle and the wizard. Thinking about Bleak was rather like having been forced to put a book down halfway through. Part of Rage was longing to pick it up and read some more. But she was also anxious about her uncle. What if he returned and found her note? He would be frantic. She could only pray he had been trapped in town by the storm. She worried for a while, then she snuffed out the candle carefully and slept.

A sound brought her back to wakefulness. It was Billy, scratching at the door. She hobbled to it and opened its tiny shutter. The storm had passed and the sky was clear, but it was dark. She must have been unconscious for ages. She closed the shutter and opened the door. Snow piled up against it slid into the hut. The world beyond was a dazzling silver-and-black landscape. Rage’s skin prickled at the thought of walking through the moonlit world.

“Billy,” she said, “let’s go home.”

Billy gave a wriggling, puppy-like leap that made her laugh. She went back into the hut, pushed her thermos and the remaining sandwiches into her pack, and buckled it closed. She shoveled the snow impatiently out of the hut and dragged the door closed, and then they set off. The snow was so deep that she sank up to her hips in it, but it was not hard-packed, so she could move quite easily. She marveled that so much snow had fallen in just a few hours.

Billy raced ahead, plowing a narrow furrow through the powder snow and then circling back in his own excitement. Rage thought the moonlit landscape the loveliest sight she had ever seen, but she had little energy for anything but walking. At first, brushing through the powder had been easy, but there was enough of a drag that her legs began to ache. Worse, she noticed more dark clouds on the horizon.

Once they had climbed the hill above the dam, Rage stopped to rest for a bit, feeding the rest of the sandwiches to Billy and drinking the cocoa herself. She wiped her forehead and winced to find a sore place on her temple. Fingering it, she found a sizable bump with some grazing. She must have hit her head, then. Knowing that made her feel slightly better. At least she hadn’t just stupidly lain down to sleep. Of course, she would not have fallen at all if she had sensibly stayed at home.

The moon was setting as they came over the rise and saw the roof of Winnoway. And not a moment too soon, for there was a rumble of thunder, and the gathering clouds merged, plunging the world back into darkness. Rage ran the last bit of the way, relieved to see that there were no lights on. That meant her uncle must have stayed the night in town.

When Rage got inside the house, she realized how ravenously hungry she was. Despite the chocolate and sandwiches, she felt as if she had not eaten for days. Annoyingly, the fire was completely out, but it did not take long to start another. She stuck some frozen pies in the oven and went to get warm in a bath. Undressing, she inspected her hands and feet and was relieved to find that the only damage was a few chilblains that reddened and itched as she climbed into the water.

Sinking up to her neck in hot, soapy water, she gave a sigh of contentment. She slipped right under to wet her hair and lie still, enjoying the feeling of being warm all over. When she surfaced, Billy was peering anxiously at her. She laughed and sat up to wash her hair, then she immersed herself again to wash off the suds. She would have liked to soak longer, but she was too hungry and tired. Toweling vigorously, she dressed in warm flannel pajamas and Mam’s old red fleece dressing gown and padded back to her bedroom to don some thick socks. Then she rescued the pies from the oven, and she and Billy ate them in front of the stove with relish.

She told Billy all that had happened in Bleak, then she thought again how lucky it was that she and Billy were safe and Uncle Samuel need never know what had happened. She wondered if he had called, and hoped he would manage to get back in time to take her down to the hospital for a visit with Mam. Luckily, they were not supposed to move her until later in the afternoon. Belatedly, Rage remembered that she had pulled the phone line out of the jack. She got up to connect it and was startled to find it was pushed in already.

Rage frowned and wondered if she hadn’t completely pulled it out, or had just imagined doing it. Then she shrugged and checked the answering machine. To her relief, there were no messages from either Mrs. Somersby or her uncle, but there was one missed call. She checked the clock. It was just past eight, and that was pretty early for a Sunday morning, but she was too impatient to wait. Maybe it had been her uncle calling from a hotel. Rage dialed three numbers and listened warily, hoping that the redial sequence would not connect her to Mrs. Somersby.

A phone began to ring, and a moment later a woman’s voice said, “Hello, Margery Stiles here.”

Rage blinked. Stiles was the last name of Logan’s foster parents. That meant Logan must have been the last caller. “Uh, I know it’s pretty early but…I was wondering if I can talk to Logan. We go to school together and—”

“Oh! You must be Rage,” Mrs. Stiles interrupted. “I hope you don’t mind if I call you that? It’s just that Logan does.”

“N-n-no,” Rage stammered, startled to hear that Logan would refer to her in conversation with his foster parents. It hadn’t sounded as if he talked much to them at all, but maybe the whole move and possibility of a new school had broken down some barriers between them.

“Rage,” Mrs. Stiles was saying, “I should like very much to meet you. Since Logan has been…well, he has been so much happier lately, and I believe it is at least in part due to you.”

Rage didn’t know what to say. “Thank you,” she said at last, feeling embarrassed and awkward.

“You must come to dinner sometime soon. Or perhaps for lunch. I know you live out of town and this winter is making travel so difficult. Sometimes I do feel that spring will never come, but of course it must.” She gave a light laugh. “Oh, listen to me rabbiting on and you want to speak to Logan. I should have said right away that he is out. In fact, he was gone already when I went in this morning. I would have been worried that he had gone back to his old wandering ways—my husband used to call him our lone wolf—but he’s a good lad, and lately he has really settled down. Anyway, I will let him know you called as soon as he comes in.”

“It doesn’t matter, I’ll see him Monday at school.”

“You mean Wednesday, don’t you?” Mrs. Stiles laughed. “Because today and tomorrow are holidays, aren’t they?”

Rage had forgotten about the days off again, but what was Mrs. Stiles talking about, saying today was a holiday? Sundays were always holidays. “Oh yes,” Rage said vaguely, not wanting to prolong the conversation. Mrs. Stiles was nice but pretty talkative. “Well, maybe he can call tonight.”

They said goodbye. Rage hung up and added a big log of hardwood to the stove, then flopped into the chair. The storm outside had grown in strength, and the lights were dimming every few minutes—an indicator that the power would soon fail. Rage got up and switched on the radio. If it was storming this badly now, there was every chance her uncle would cancel the hospital visit. At first, there was only a lot of white noise. She twitched the dial minutely, fishing for the elusive signal.

“…worst storms to hit since…” The sound faded out and in again. “…the minister will meet with other ministers, town officials, and emergency services personnel to discuss strategies…” The voice dissolved into static and Rage thought that it must be a pretty drastic storm if all of those official-sounding people were going to meet on a Sunday. She gave up on the radio and went back to the fire. The log had begun to catch, but rather than risk the fire going out again, she decided to really make sure before closing the flue. She had half hoped her uncle would be home before she went to bed, but when the power went out, she decided it was time. She shut the flue and wrote a brief note by candlelight telling Uncle Samuel that she had gone to bed, to stop him waking her when he came home and dragging her back from Bleak.

She left the note by the phone, on top of her uncle’s, and pushed her earlier note into her pocket. Then she carried the candle through to her bedroom. The heater was out, but she would be warm enough with Billy sleeping beside her. She patted the bed and let him get comfortable, then she reached across to blow out the candle. She looked at the clock beside her bed, which showed the day as well as time.

It read Monday!

Rage gasped, her mind whirling. If today was Monday, then she hadn’t just slept a few hours in the hut before Billy woke her. She must have been unconscious all of Saturday and Saturday night and most of Sunday and Sunday night! She must have concussed herself when she fell. No wonder Billy had gone crazy when she finally got up and spoke to him.

But what had happened to her uncle? Was it possible the amount of snow that had fallen had really made the roads impassable and he had ended up staying Saturday and Sunday nights in town? But why hadn’t he called? The answering machine had been on. Unless the phones had been down. But if that was so, how had Logan got through?

Monday. Rage swallowed a sudden, hard lump in her throat. Uncle Samuel would have gone to the hospital alone to explain that Rage wouldn’t be able to come after all, because of the weather. Tears burned in her eyes at the idea of the doctors telling Mam that she hadn’t come. For once, she hoped her mother had been too dazed and sleepy to understand properly. Mam must be in Leary Hospital now.

She lay back against the pillow, but now she was so upset that she was afraid she wouldn’t be able to sleep at all. She closed her eyes and imagined Nomadiel and Rally, Mr. Walker, Thaddeus, and Puck. She pictured the big, bare room they had been given at the settlement of Sorrow, trying to see every detail in her mind’s eye. She saw herself and Billy dressed for winter, and wearing well-filled rucksacks. In the moment before she fell asleep, she wondered if they had found any sign of Elle yet.

 

Rage opened her eyes and found she and Billy were standing side by side in a tiny room. It was lit by a single candle carried by one of two filthy youths who gaped at them in shock.

“Demons!” one of them said in a frightened voice, his voice squeaking at the end. He was probably younger than Rage, though he carried a knife in his spare hand and looked as if he knew how to use it.

“We ought to kill them before they enchant us,” the other hissed.

Rage wondered how they could extricate themselves from the mess she had landed them in! Billy was sniffing the air, a curious expression on his face.

“They are not demons,” said a familiar voice behind them. Rage gave a cry of delight and whirled to face Elle.

“I thought I could smell you, but your scent has changed!” Billy said. He flung his arms about the tall, smiling dog-woman.

Elle laughed and pounded his back. “You smell different, too, Billy Thunder. You have grown, and not just in stature!” She turned to Rage, who gaped. Elle wore grubby trousers and a filthy sweater, and had smears of dirt on her face and on the tips of her pointed ears. Her golden hair, once very short, now hung below her waist. It was matted and carelessly pulled back in a rough ponytail, but it caught the candlelight like a spider web of spun gold and made the perfect foil for her impossible, radiant beauty. How had she become so beautiful without really changing? Rage wondered incredulously.

“You have grown, too, darling heart,” Elle said, her deep-set almond eyes tender. She gathered Rage into her arms and held her tightly. Rage clung to her, her eyes filling with tears. Dimly she was aware that the earth was quaking again.

“Oh, Elle, I missed you so much,” she whispered, feeling the dog-woman’s muscles beneath the loose clothes.

“I missed you, too. Both of you, though I have been happy in Valley,” Elle said, releasing them both. From the corner of her eye, Rage noticed that the two boys were regarding them with wonder.

“These are summerlanders, too, Lady Elle?” one of them asked reverently.

“They are my friends,” Elle said firmly. She looked back to Rage. “You dream-traveled here?”

Rage nodded.

Elle shook her head. “Rue spoke of this power that let you visit her at the heart lake, but I did not know that Billy Thunder had it, too.”

“I brought him with me,” Rage said. “I was trying to bring us to Mr. Walker and the others, but I thought of you just before I fell asleep.”

“You mean to say that Mr. Walker is here?” Elle asked eagerly.

Rage nodded. “When I was with them last, they had got your scent, but I guess they haven’t found you yet.”

Elle’s eyes flashed with amusement. “Nor will they find me unless I choose it. Which I do, now that I know who seeks me.” Elle turned to the boy who had spoken. “Lod, go and find if other strangers have been seen in any of the settlements about Null.” Rage broke in to explain that they had been staying in Sorrow. “That makes it even easier,” Elle said. She turned back to the boy. “Go to Sorrow and seek them out. One will be a small man with ears like mine, and there will be a faun, too. A man with goat’s horns and legs—”

“Gilbert didn’t come,” Rage interrupted again, to explain that he had broken his leg and had been unable to come through the winter door.

Elle shook her head. “Poor Gilbert. Well, then find the small man and bring him and his companions to me. But be careful, we do not wish the Stormlord to know what we are about. We have yet to learn who informs upon those taken by his gray fliers.”

“I obey, Lady Elle,” the boy said, his eyes shining with adoration. He turned and slipped through a rough door behind Elle.

“The Stormlord!” Billy said. “Rage talked about him. Does a wizard serve him?”

Elle glanced at Rage. “I have wondered that, but so far I have heard no one talk of a wizard.” The boy that had not been sent away had drawn closer as Elle spoke, his face slack with devotion. Catching sight of him, Elle laughed, and ruffled his hair affectionately. Her laughter was truly lovely, especially in this dark place.

“How did you meet these boys?” Billy asked.

“I had no idea if it was early evening or late when I reached the settlement of Hollow. So I asked when the sun would rise, and everyone reacted as if I had sworn. I realized that I had made some sort of mistake, and left. Fortunately, as it happens, because I am told the gray fliers came for me.”

“Who or what are gray fliers?” Billy asked curiously.

“Winged creatures who serve the Stormlord,” Elle said. “I have not managed to see any of them up close, but they smell of nothing, so I think that they might be some sort of machines.”

“And these boys?” Rage asked.

“They are summerlanders. Their leader, Shona, came to me in the next settlement I found myself in. She explained that only summerlander rebels spoke of the sun rising, and then only to identify themselves to one another. She said that she knew I was a great warrior from the summerlands, come to free Null from eternal night. That is what the inhabitants of this place call it: Null. The summerlanders believe that it is the Stormlord who makes sure it is always night here and always winter.”

Billy sniffed the air. “Where are we now? It smells like we are underground.”

“Your nose is still keen, little brother. We are in a chamber at the end of a tunnel, which runs from the outskirts of the settlement of Sorrow to the edge of a cliff. The window there faces the great pillar upon which is built the fortress of Stormkeep. We have to keep it closed because gray fliers patrol the cliff. They don’t seem to have any sense of smell, but their hearing is keen.” Elle pointed to the door behind her. “This door was built to keep out the dampness and stink of the earth in the tunnel. Unfortunately, the only way to get back to Sorrow is to crawl along the tunnel.”

“Why are you here?” Billy asked.

“I wanted to see if I could smell if our wizard was there, but unfortunately the distance is too great.”

“You haven’t found any sign of him, then?”

“No, but that may not mean anything, for it was the wizard himself who showed me a spell to hide my scent.”

“Can I see Stormkeep?” Billy asked.

In answer, Elle led him to a slit in the wall. She opened the shutter and motioned everyone to silence. Billy leaned forward and peered through the opening. He stepped back after a long moment, his expression grave. Elle motioned to Rage, who looked out, too. There was a mist rising from the abyss into which the window opened; through it she could see the great pillar of stone upon which Stormkeep was built. Exactly as Thaddeus and Mr. Walker had described, its towering outer walls merged seamlessly with the pillar, leaving not even the slightest ledge where one might walk. The top of the battlements was far away, but she could see fire torches set along the top of the wall, revealing sharp, toothlike crenellations. Last of all, faintly, she saw the stone bridge—thin and insubstantial as a spiderweb—that was the only means of reaching the fortress.

“It is a grim place,” Elle said after she had closed the shutter. “Well, we must return to the others.” She ought to have been downcast, but she merely gave a philosophical smile. It was so dazzling that Rage did not wonder that the rebels worshipped her. Just being around her made you feel more hopeful.

“Others?” Billy asked curiously.

“Shona and some of her followers await us in Sorrow. If Lod has moved swiftly enough, Mr. Walker and the others might also be there by the time we arrive.” Elle went to the door and opened it.

Rage noticed the remaining boy staring at her and wondered if the Stormlord forbade smiling and laughter as well as sunlight.

Elle dropped to her knees and crawled into the sour-smelling tunnel. The boy gestured that Rage should go next. She nodded, took a deep breath, and crawled in after Elle, praying that there would not be any tremors.

“Who else came…?” Elle’s voice was muffled.

“Thaddeus, Puck, Nomadiel, and Rally,” Rage gasped, her hands and knees numb from crawling.

“Noma and Rally, too! I would not have guessed they would come. But that is nine, counting the wizard and me. Rue said that only eight were to come.”

“Billy and I don’t count because we didn’t come through the door,” Rage panted. “That makes seven that have come through, which means there is one other to come from Valley.”

The sheer physical effort of crawling made it impossible to go on talking. When they were all finally out, Elle closed a trap over the tunnel and led them through a door into the chilly night. Rage saw that they were just outside the settlement of Sorrow. There was no need to hide because not a soul was visible. They entered another building and were surrounded at once by a crowd of solemn, pale people, mostly teenagers or little children.

“Greetings, Lady Elle,” said an older girl. She bowed deeply and then the others did the same, even the little ones.

“Do not bow to me, Shona,” Elle said gently. “You are the leader here, and your followers should be in their homes. It is dangerous to gather like this.”

“I told them, Lady, but they wished to see you,” Shona said. Rage realized with a shock that this girl was the leader of the summerlanders. “They needed to see that you had not abandoned us.”

“You must have the courage to believe,” Elle said.

“I do believe. Does not the very earth shudder in anticipation of the sun rising since your arrival?” The girl made a gesture. Quickly, and in almost complete silence, all the people slipped away. Many reached out to touch Elle in passing.

“Who are they?” Shona asked, nodding at Rage and Billy.

“Old friends,” Elle said. “Now, let us have some food before we talk further.”

Shona nodded to the boy who had been in the tunnel hut and directed them to a circle of seats. “Lod came back and said he was to seek out other strangers. They are friends, too?”

“They are,” Elle said. “Let me introduce you to Rage Winnoway and Billy Thunder.”

The girl nodded to them in turn. “I am pleased to greet you, fortunate dwellers of the summerlands.” She turned back to Elle. “Your quest was successful? You smelled the presence of the wizard who is your ally?”

“I could not smell him,” Elle said. She reached out and laid a hand on the girl’s slumped shoulder. “You are tired. Go home and sleep. It is harder to be brave and to have hope when you are weary.”

The girl nodded and rose obediently. As she was leaving, the boy returned with several young people bearing covered dishes of food. It turned out to be the same dull stew Rage had eaten before, and she decided that she was not hungry. But Elle and Billy ate heartily while Rage told them again all that had transpired on her previous visit to Null.

“So, you vanish from here when you wake there, and when you dream-travel here, you appear just as you did in the tunnel hut, leaving your proper body behind?” Elle murmured. “An amazing ability, for you look and feel perfectly real. But how did you come here?”

“I was thinking about you when I fell asleep,” Rage said.

Elle shook her head. “Then it is only a matter of disciplining your mind to focus very intently on whom you want to come to for you to master this power.” She fell silent, then she rose suddenly. “I must think about what you have said.” Rage must have shown her surprise, for the dog-woman gave her a smile. “I am somewhat better able to see the use in thinking these days. Indeed, I am quite addicted to it. I also want to see if there is any word of the others before we discuss this further.”

“She is different,” Billy said softly to Rage when Elle had gone. “She smells, I don’t know, brighter?” He shook his head in his characteristic annoyance at being unable to find a human word to describe some nuance of dog-life.

Now that Elle had gone, the boy and the other children who had brought the food crept closer. “Will you tell us of the summerlands?” a boy asked.

“Have you ever seen the sun?” Billy asked curiously.

The children shook their heads as one. “The olders say there is no such thing, and that the sun has never shone here,” the boy said. “But I think they lie out of fear.”

“You think they are afraid of the sun?” Rage asked.

“Not of the sun, but of talking about it,” said a curly-haired moppet. “That’s what makes the fliers come take you to the keep.”

“To be aligned?” Rage asked.

“They look the same as before they are taken,” the girl said. “But they are different inside. They don’t talk about the sun or the summerlands anymore.”

“Perhaps they are afraid to talk about those things in case they are taken prisoner again,” Billy suggested gently.

But the girl shook her head. “They don’t want to talk about such things. They don’t care about them anymore.”

“What happens to them inside Stormkeep?” Billy asked.

“We don’t know,” the older boy said. “They don’t remember anything.”

“What does the sun look like?” asked an older girl gravely.

Billy looked at her and Rage saw pity in his soft brown eyes. “It is a hot, bright light, only very big and very far away. It rises in the sky and lights the world like a giant lantern, and all flowers open their petals and turn their faces to drink its warmth.”

Rage stared at him, touched by his gentleness, and by the poetry of his words.

“Then there are flowers,” the little girl declared, and she made a ferocious face at the boy beside her. “I told you!”

“Does the sun make the sky blue?” asked another boy.

“How could it do that?” said the older boy who had been in the tunnel hut. “The sky would be white with all of that brightness.”

“Sometimes it is almost white, but sometimes the sky is blue, too,” Billy said. “Other times it is red as blood and then still other times it is yellow like the palest candlelight.”

“I have dreamed of flowers,” the little girl said. “I have dreamed of how warm it will be when the Lady Elle defeats the Stormlord.”

Rage wondered uneasily what Elle had actually told these people. After all, their task was not to bring sunlight to this world but to find the wizard and close the winter door. But perhaps like Mr. Walker, Elle now had her own plans. One thing was certain: if she had told these people she would help them, then she would not go until she had done so.

Billy went on talking to the children. They drank in his stories of sunlight and warm beaches and butterflies and rainbows. Rage felt sick at the thought that these children might be taken inside Stormkeep to who knew what fate.

“What are you thinking about, Rage?” Billy asked suddenly. An older boy was shooing the children away with the empty plates.

“I was thinking about what will happen to these children. Elle can’t make the sun shine here.”

“Maybe the wizard can if…” Billy’s eyes widened. “Rage, I know what Elle wants you to do!”

“She didn’t ask me to do anything.”

“She didn’t, but she will. She is going to ask you to dream-travel inside Stormkeep!”

“Could you do it?” Elle had returned.

Rage ignored the fear that rose in her throat. “I think I could dream myself to the wizard.”

“I will go, too,” Billy volunteered. Rage felt a fierce love for him because he did not tell her that she could not go, that it was too dangerous or she was too young.

“I can go,” Rage said. “But first I have to wake up in my own world and go back to sleep again. And time passes faster here than there.”

Elle nodded. “I have considered that, but we have no choice. You have seen Stormkeep. We must learn if the wizard is there before we consider trying to get inside to save him.”

The door burst open behind her and both Rage and Billy jumped to their feet. It was the boy Lod. Behind him were Thaddeus and Nomadiel with Rally on her shoulder.

“Where is Mr. Walker?” Billy asked eagerly.

Only then, when Nomadiel and the boy stepped aside, did they see that Thaddeus was carrying Mr. Walker, hanging limp and dreadfully still in his arms.

“What happened?” Rage cried as Thaddeus lay Mr. Walker carefully on the nearest bench seat. The dog-man’s face was clammy pale except for bright spots of color high on his cheeks.

“He would not rest nor eat though I told him that I could smell sickness growing in him,” Nomadiel said. Her eyes were dry but diamond-hard in her heart-shaped face.

“But what happened to him?” Rage asked her. “He can’t just have gotten sick.”

“Well, he did!” Nomadiel snapped. There was a brittleness to her that was not far from tears. “Just as my mother did!”

Rage recoiled from the fury and despair in the girl’s voice and turned back to Mr. Walker. Elle was kneeling at his side now, her hand on his brow. She called his name softly. After an endless moment, the little man’s eyes fluttered and then opened a slit.

“You…,” he breathed.

“Yes, it is me,” Elle said lightly, smiling down at him. “Don’t think you are going to get out of helping us to close the winter door by getting sick!”

His lips curved slightly, and Rage wondered if there was anyone in any world who would not smile at Elle. But the smile faded almost at once, as if the effort of maintaining it was too great. “I’m sorry,” Mr. Walker whispered.

“Don’t dare talk like that,” Elle said with soft mock sternness. “As if you are making a farewell speech! I won’t have it.” She turned to Lod. “Go and see if there is not something we can give him for a fever.” Then she looked back at Mr. Walker. “As for you, rest and get well, for we have need of you.”

Mr. Walker closed his eyes and seemed to lapse back into unconsciousness.

“You must save him!” Nomadiel cried. Then, without waiting for an answer, she turned to Rage. “Where did you go when you vanished? It’s your fault he got sick! You made him lose heart.”

“I awoke back in my world,” Rage said gently, pitying the girl. “It turned out that I had been asleep the whole time I was here after all. I didn’t know because I had fallen and knocked myself out. When I slept again in my world, I tried to will myself to you and Mr. Walker, but I thought of Elle for a moment, and…” She waved her hand at Elle.

Puck glared at Elle. “You might have waited for us, and then we would not have wasted so much time looking for you! We ought to have gone through all together.”

Elle only gathered him up and hugged him. He seemed to enjoy it despite his scowls. “I am glad to see you, for your bad temper is like a warm fire in this wearyingly bland world where no one seems to feel anything very much, and if they do, they are soon taken away.”

“Is it only summerlanders who are taken?” Billy asked as she set Puck down.

“Mostly,” Elle said. She turned her attention now to Nomadiel and held out her hand solemnly. Nomadiel blushed as she laid her own small hand in it.

“I am very glad to see you, Lady,” she said.

“And I you, Noma, though these are difficult days,” Elle said very seriously. “We will have need of your courage on this quest.” She bowed her head gracefully to Rally, who stood on Nomadiel’s shoulder blinking at her. “And we will have need of your wisdom, too, Master Crow.”

The bird gave a pleased squawk and preened slightly. “I am at your service, Lady Elle,” he said.

Elle nodded and rose to face Thaddeus. “It is good to see you again, witch man, though I am surprised your lady spared you.” Puck snorted rudely. “I wish I had realized sooner who was seeking me. When I heard that a big, grim-faced man was asking questions, I thought it must be some agent of the Stormlord. Indeed, I was planning to capture you because you were the first person I had heard of who might be capable of answering questions about the keep.”

“Grim-faced!” Thaddeus echoed indignantly. “I could hardly go about smiling like a great fool here, could I?”

“True,” Elle conceded, grinning. “You have met my summerlander friend?” She nodded at the door through which Lod had gone in search of fever medicine.

“He is a summerlander?” Thaddeus asked incredulously. “Why, he is no more than a child.”

“Almost all of the rebels are young or very young, including their leader,” Elle said. “I do not know why, but they are as brave and determined as any adult warrior could be.”

“Well, that may be,” Thaddeus said, looking unconvinced. “The lad said only that the Lady Elle wanted to see us. So we came at once. But how did you get mixed up with summerland rebels anyway?”

“It is they who decided to mix themselves up with me,” Elle said, gesturing to them to sit. “Their leader declared that she knew that I was a great summerland warrior who had come to free this world from endless night. It seems there is some legend here to that effect, and the fact that the earth tremors here seemed to have begun about the time I arrived doesn’t help.”

“You were not stupid enough to let them believe that you were their legendary warrior come to unveil the sun, I hope,” Puck said sourly.

Elle laughed. “I make no promises that I will not keep, little man,” she said. “Now, let us talk seriously. Rage has told me quite a lot, but you must add what you have learned since her departure.”

“Not much,” Thaddeus confessed apologetically. “When we could find no way to confirm that the wizard was here, we put our efforts into finding you.” He added that the only thing they had heard about the wizard was a rather vague rumor of an old man visiting Stormkeep, but when they investigated, the description did not sound like the wizard.

“The man who told us of him did not smell of lies,” Nomadiel added earnestly. Rage noticed that her eyes hardly left Elle’s face as she spoke, as if all hope lay in the lovely dog-woman’s face, which perhaps was true.

“Perhaps he did not lie,” Elle murmured thoughtfully. “The wizard would have known how to prevent anyone marking him as a stranger. I have been unable to find proof that he is here, either, but the fact that the people here believe the master of the keep visits his wrath upon them in the form of storms makes me certain that our wizard would at least have gone to Stormkeep, even if he went somewhere else afterward.”

“You have a plan?” Nomadiel asked, her eyes alight.

Elle nodded. “The bones of one, at least. It is a twofold plan. Rage will be drawn back to her world again when she wakes. Next time when she sleeps, she will dream-travel to the wizard. If he is in Stormkeep, then he will most likely be a prisoner. It may be that Rage will be unable to break the iron circles that will bind him, but at least she will be able to speak to him.”

“Iron circles?” Rage echoed blankly.

“Everyone knows that iron stops magic,” Nomadiel said scornfully.

“Remember the bracelets the High Keeper made girls wear to stop them becoming witch folk?” Thaddeus said.

“I remember, but the wizard was trapped in an hourglass when I was here last, and he couldn’t do magic then…”

“The circles do not have to be about his hands. They can also be either side of him or above and below him,” Nomadiel said.

“The hourglass was capped at both ends with iron circles,” Billy said softly to Rage. “He could manage to reach your dreams as he did because the iron wasn’t actually around his wrists.”

“I think this plan is madness,” Puck announced. “What if the wizard is dead? What if she dream-travels herself under the ground?”

Rage’s skin rose into gooseflesh, but Elle merely shook her head. “He is not dead.”

“What if the Stormlord’s pet wizard is waiting?”

“I am not sure there is a wizard in Stormkeep, but—” Elle began.

“An alarm clock!” Rage broke in. “I can set it so that I will only sleep a little while. That way I won’t be there long enough for anyone to notice me.”

Elle nodded her approval. “A good thought. So Rage will wake, then sleep again as soon as she can manage it, and then she and Billy will return to tell us what they discovered. Our wizard might also be restored to us by then.”

“Puck is right,” Thaddeus protested. “The danger to Rage will be great. You cannot count upon the Stormlord not noticing an intruder, even if she is only there for a short while.”

“That is true, witch man,” Elle replied. “But I will send a message to him announcing that I mean to send one of my minions inside his supposedly impregnable keep to reveal my power. If he captures Rage, he will want to question her about me.”

“You can’t know that,” Puck said.

“He would be a fool if he did otherwise, and I do not think the master of this place is a fool. Yet there is a risk,” Elle admitted. “And Rage has already agreed to take it.”

“It is a better plan than sending Rally or me flying over the walls to see if the wizard is there,” Puck said grudgingly, giving Thaddeus a black look.

“You would have been spotted and shot from the air by arrows, for the watch-walks about the walls are manned by gray fliers,” Elle said.

“And if Rage cannot release the wizard so that he can effect his own escape?” Rally asked.

“I have some thoughts on that, but I am not ready to utter them yet,” Elle said calmly. “Rage, how long do you think before you will wake?”

Rage thought of how tired she had been after her long walk to the dam and back. “I’m afraid it might be a while yet.”

Thaddeus let out a low cry. “I have something that won’t help you wake in your own world, but it might help you sleep, if you can carry it there with you.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pouch. “Sleep dust. The best thing about it is that you won’t sleep for long.”

Rage did not know if things could shift with her dream form, but it would be marvelous if she did have the sleep dust with her when she woke because they would not have to wait to return to Null.

“All right, now we must compose a letter for the Stormlord, and think on how it might be delivered,” Elle said briskly. She looked at Nomadiel. “Since I cannot write, you will have to do it for me.” She rose and Nomadiel followed her.

As they reached the door, Rage had an idea. “Elle, what made you come here so suddenly from Valley? Isn’t it because you dreamed of the firecat?” she cried. Rage felt herself flush as everyone stared at her, including a puzzled-looking Elle. “I’m sorry I yelled,” Rage said, feeling foolish. “I just thought talking about the firecat might make me wake up, because every other time I’ve tried to tell anyone about it, I’ve woken up.”

“A pity it did not work,” Elle said. “But how did you know that I had dreamed of the firecat?”

“You saying that the wizard wasn’t dead made me think of it. Because how could you know that unless the firecat had come to you again?”

Elle laughed. “It is true that the wretched creature plagues my dreams, demanding that I seek out its master, but it can offer no help except to insist that he is here somewhere. For some reason, the firecat is terrified of entering this world. What did it tell you?”

Rage felt the blood in her cheeks drain away. “It said that the wizard was in trouble. But I wouldn’t listen. I thought it was a dream.”

“So that is why it came to me! I did wonder. Well, you shouldn’t trouble yourself about it,” Elle said.

Nomadiel suddenly gave a little scream and everyone turned to her in startled alarm. “He disappeared right in front of my eyes!”

“Who did?” Thaddeus asked.

“That boy. That Billy Thunder.”

Rage swung round, but even as she did so, she experienced the pulling sensation of waking.

 

She woke to find Billy gnawing her fingertips gently.

“It’s all right! I’m awake!” Rage sat up and gave him a hug, marveling that for once her mind was quite clear about what had been happening. It was pitch dark and she looked at the clock. It read five o’clock. She had been asleep for a long time. She was wide awake, but if she had managed to bring back the sleep dust, she could use it and go right back to sleep. She dug into her pocket but it was empty. She would just have to wait until she was sleepy.

The bedroom was icy cold, which meant the power was out again, but the stove would still be hot. Rage climbed over Billy, who wagged his tail and got down, too. She patted him and told him to be quiet so as not to wake her uncle.

If he had come back.

Rage pulled on her robe and went through the house to the extension. The door was open, which meant he had not come in. Just the same, she went to the front door and opened it to make sure the car was not in the driveway. Billy slipped past her and padded away around the side of the house. It was too cold to wait for him to come back, so Rage shut the door and went back to the bedroom. She dressed in jeans, two sweaters, and her old zebra-head slippers.

She went to the kitchen, flicking the light switch as she entered. Nothing happened. She checked the fuse box by the back door but it was fine, so the power was out. She opened the flue to the stove and fed in some more wood. She had used the last in the wood box, so she went to get some more from the outside stack, dragging on the old coat hanging on the back of the door as she went though it.

Once the wood box was replenished, Rage scrambled eggs and made tea. Only when she sat down to drink it did she let herself think about what might be happening in Null. She worried most about Mr. Walker, and whether he had recovered. Elle had seemed certain that he would. But something had been wrong with the little dog-man, even before he had gone through the winter door.

Disliking the somber turn of her thoughts, Rage decided that the quickest way to get sleepy would be to tire herself out, so she went to chop some wood. Then she dusted and swept and lit candles around the house, feeling like a seventeenth-century maid. She even mopped the kitchen floor. Then, with nothing else to do, she got out her homework. Spreading it on the floor beside the stove, she immersed herself in reading, but thoughts about her uncle kept creeping in to distract her. Why hadn’t he called?

He iss having accident! whispered the firecat inside her mind.

“What do you want?” Rage snapped aloud, but there was no answer. The firecat voice was merely the voice of her own gnawing doubts and fears.

Billy scratched at the door and she let him inside and fed him, then she forced herself back to her homework. For a time, she managed to concentrate. Finally, she threw the book aside. “Oh, Billy, I can’t bear this waiting,” she cried.

As if in response, the power suddenly came on. At the same time, the phone began to ring. Rage froze in surprise, then she scrambled to her feet and ran across the room. Instinct made her hesitate to lift the receiver. She heard her voice on the answering machine greeting the caller, then came the voice of Mrs. Somersby asking for Uncle Samuel. To her horror, she heard the older woman say that she was sorry to have missed their meeting, but that she looked forward to discussing the program with him as soon as was convenient. Then she hung up.

Rage felt sick.

Why would Uncle Samuel agree to a meeting if he wasn’t planning to get rid of the responsibility of looking after Rage? Perhaps he had guessed that she had been trying to keep him from learning about it.

She calmed down, telling herself she didn’t really know what had happened. Going restlessly to the window, she peered out. It had begun snowing lightly again. There was mist rising that gave the white landscape a strange, ghostly look, as if everything in the world were dissolving.

Rage thought about her uncle and found herself going back through the house to the extension. The last few nights at home, he had gone to his room early, saying he had work to do. It had not occurred to her before to wonder what work he meant. She went to the desk. All his books and papers were as they had been except for two notebooks that had been set aside. She took up one of them. It was new, while the one under it was battered like all the others that her uncle had brought from the jungle.

Rage flipped through the new notebook. It fell open at a point where the writing broke off halfway down the page.

It has been some time since I have felt so restless. I think I must soon consider moving on again. I have done as much as I can be expected to do here. One cannot always see everything to the end. Someone else will take on where I leave off. There are so many things that torment me when I am not engaged in a project. I must see if I can get funding for some research into

The scrawled writing ended at this point, and Rage closed the book, biting her lip and wishing she had never opened it. It was one thing to suspect that her uncle wanted to leave and another to see it in his handwriting. The diary note and the call from Mrs. Somersby were proof that her uncle was intending to leave. Rage carefully put the notebooks as she had found them and left the little study, closing the heavy extension door behind her. As she walked back to the kitchen, her legs felt wooden, and only when she sat down did she discover that tears were rolling unchecked down her cheeks.

Billy sat up and licked at her face. She fended him off gently and stroked him until he lay back down, then she lay down beside him, hooking one arm around him and cuddling close. It was warm in the kitchen, but the chill inside her would not go away. Tears kept falling and falling until Billy’s fur and the pillow under her were both sodden. At last, she began to feel sleepy, and wearily she summoned up a mental image of the wizard as she had last seen him.

But instead of being transported to the wizard, she found herself in a dream of mist again, wandering and hearing her uncle calling out her name. She saw him and went closer. For a moment, he didn’t see her, but then his eyes widened and she realized that he was staring at her.

“Rage?”

“Why do you always go away when people need you?” she asked.

“This is a dream,” her uncle said, and he dissolved into snow and mist.

Rage made herself think of the wizard. To her relief, she felt the pulling sensation in her middle that she now associated with dream-traveling.

Rage and Billy were standing in a vast, silent, round room with mirror-smooth black flagstones underfoot. Before them, an old man sat slumped on a stone bench, oblivious to their presence. Rage made a motion warning Billy not to speak. The sole source of light was a cluster of lanterns suspended from a long chain in the center of the enormous chamber, but their light made little impression on the dark. Turning back to the old man, Rage knew that she would not have recognized the wizard if she had not expected to see him. His mouth hung open, his chin resting on his chest, and his once sleek ponytail of silver gray hair lay lank and tangled on his shoulders. His unkempt black beard was streaked with dull gray.

Swallowing her reluctance, Rage walked over to the wizard and bent down to look into his face. The wizard wore the same jeans and T-shirt he had worn at their last meeting, but over them was a heavy, hooded cloak, and he had a thick scarf about his neck. His hair and face were spotlessly clean, as were his hands, clasped together loosely in his lap. Rage thought that whatever his captor had subjected him to, the old man had not been physically neglected.

The wizard stirred. Rage became aware of a humming sound. She wondered if they had set off some sort of alarm, but no one shouted out to them to stop. The silence seemed deeper than ever as Billy pointed to the wizard’s bound hands. A steel cord ran from the chain between the manacles, over the wizard’s lap, and behind him to a big metal disk embedded in the black stone. Rage bent closer. The chain was welded, which meant there was no way they could free the wizard.

Rage thought she heard a noise and glanced around. The smokiness in the air had cleared a little, and she saw that it was not a round chamber but a circular tower. She and Billy were standing partway up the tower on a wide stone ramp that ran in a flat spiral around the walls. In the middle of the tower was only empty space. Rage went warily to the edge of the ramp to look down. It was about ten turns to the bottom, and there seemed to be nothing down there but the end of the ramp and, presumably, a door out. Looking up, she saw that the ramp continued circling as far as her eye could reach. Feeling slightly dizzy, Rage backed away from the edge. She stumbled, and Billy gasped. The sound became an alarming susurrus of gasps that filled the air about them. But still there was no outcry.

Rage looked up once more. This could not be Stormkeep, for she would have seen such a tower from the hidden tunnel. She was about to turn back to the wizard when she noticed the most horrible thing of all: hundreds and hundreds of metal wheels were embedded along the curving ramp. Seated at the base of each, on a bench like the wizard’s, were people, many small enough to be little people or children.

Billy touched her and then his nose and then he shook his head. He did it again and she tried to understand what he was trying to tell her. That he couldn’t smell something, but what? He pointed to the people and then repeated his pantomime. Now Rage looked around, and the eerie silence of the place struck her. Not one out of the hundreds of people spoke or moved. If she had not been able to see the wizard’s chest lifting and falling, she might have thought all of them dead. Rage turned back to the wizard and stumbled again. She looked down at her feet in puzzlement and saw that she was wearing her zebra-head slippers! She shrugged off her dismay and turned to the wizard. She shook him gently. At first, he did not respond. Then, just as she was wondering if a spell hadn’t been laid on him, the wizard opened his eyes. They were so like her uncle Samuel’s eyes that it took her breath away.

Rage swallowed a lump in her throat and shook his shoulder a little more firmly. “It’s me, Rage Winnoway,” she whispered. Her words seemed to fly out in a thousand hissing echoes. But gradually the rustling fell into silence. Still there was no outcry, though the hum continued.

The old man was staring at her incredulously. “You are real!” he mumbled. Even his mumble set up an echo that went on forever.

“Hush,” Rage whispered as softly as she could.

“Don’t worry about the noise,” the wizard rasped. “No one listens.”

Rage came closer. “I will free you from the manacles if you can tell me how.”

He shook his head. “Why are you here?”

“We came to close the winter door,” Rage said, trying to ignore the echoes.

“There is no way to close the winter door! Didn’t the firecat warn you and the others as I commanded?”

Rage stared. That had been the warning the firecat had been meant to deliver? “There must be a way to close it,” she protested. “Rue used soul magic and she said there was.”

“She squanders her life for a glimpse of our dwindling tomorrows,” he mumbled. His eyes began to droop again, and Rage wanted to shake him.

“Where is this tower and who imprisoned you here? Was it the Stormlord? Does he have a wizard to do his bidding?”

“I am tired,” the wizard said, giving her a dim look. “Let me sleep.”

Rage shook him angrily and his eyes opened. “I won’t stop bothering you until you tell me what you dreamed that made you come through the winter door without waiting for the others.”

He gave a feeble shrug. “Wizards are wizard business.”

“You dreamed of the other wizard, then? The one who made the winter door? Does he serve the Stormlord?”

The wizard said nothing. “If you don’t care about yourself, then answer me for the sake of Valley,” Rage said loudly.

The wizard roused at last. “I failed as anyone would have done. The best thing you can do is to leave this hellish place.” His eyes filled with tears. “You cannot know how the memory of Valley haunts me.”

Rage almost shouted in her frustration. “Look, I told you that the witch Mother says it is possible to close the door. Why would she say that if it weren’t true?”

“She misread the vision,” the wizard said bleakly. “There is no hope. We are all doomed. Better to forget the sun and laughter and light.”

Rage felt like slapping him, despite the fact that he was an adult.

“Who stopped the sun rising here?” Billy spoke for the first time, his voice gentle.

The wizard’s bleared gaze shifted to him. “No one stopped the sun, lad. This was a world created without it.”

“But the rebels believe—” Billy began.

“They are wrong,” the wizard said. “They speak of visions brought by their ancestors who stumbled here from other lands.”

“The people in the settlements think the Stormlord stops the sun rising. They think he sends storms to punish them,” Rage insisted, calmer for Billy stepping in and helping.

“The Stormlord cares nothing for them. It is they who cause the storms,” the wizard said flatly. He slumped back. “People always create their own misery.”

“What do you mean?”

The wizard only shook his head, and Rage dropped to her knees before him again. “I thought that you were wrong for running away to leave Grandfather Adam grieving and longing for you, but this is worse. It’s not brave to give up and die. It’s cowardly!”

The wizard began to laugh. Rage backed away warily. “Someone will hear.”

“The Stormlord knows that you are here in his tower. In his fortress. He knew it the moment you came.”

Rage and Billy exchanged an alarmed glance. Then Billy said to the wizard, “Won’t you help us to help you? We only came here to free you.”

The wizard’s laugh was harsh, the veins in his throat standing out like cords. “I would have to kill myself to save myself. I have wanted to die but that is not permitted.”

A wave of sadness flowed through Rage. She and Billy had wasted their time coming here. But what did it matter if the wizard was right? They were all doomed, now or later, when the deadly winter from Null flowed into Valley and then into her world.

Billy touched her arm, and she noticed that the vibrating noise had increased in volume. He was grimacing as if it hurt him.

“Is it an alarm?” she asked softly.

The wizard reached out and caught at Rage’s sweater. “Do you hear that? You did it, and if you don’t leave now, you will find you can’t go.” When Rage did not move, the wizard threw himself forward against his bonds. “Go while you have the chance!”

“We can’t leave here until I wake,” Rage said.

The wizard’s eyes widened, and Rage thought it was because of what she was saying, then she realized he was looking past her. Billy was now looking beyond her, too, his expression one of blank horror.

“Turn,” said a voice behind her with the abrasive hiss of sand over sand.