The passageways seemed dark and unfriendly to Zirniheala; she shut her eyes to the curious glances of the passers-by and instead focused her attention on Ilaera. The maid was stepping quickly through the halls and her face was set with determination and resolution. She looked rather fearsome in her dignity as though she was in fact wiser and far more experienced than her youthful appearance told.

"Ceadarlo," Ilaera called as they reached his chamber door. "Come out here, Ceadarlo, we are in need of your help!"

There was a yelp and a shuffling and a muted thud. After a few moments a disheveled Ceadarlo opened the door and looked upon Ilaera with wide and fearful eyes.

"Lady Ilaera?" he asked, a hint of apprehension in his voice. "What is it?"

"Come all the way out here, Ceadarlo. We cannot stand here in this door frame forever to converse."

He did so, but not without tripping slightly over his stocking-clad feet in the process.

Ilaera glanced at him fondly, silent laughter in her eyes.

"I apologize. I was asleep when you called." He ran his fingers through his mussed hair, attempting rather futilely to give it some sort of order.

"Yes, I know. Listen, we are in need of aid from you, Ceadarlo. The Stone of the Winds, Zirniheala's stone, has been spirited away by the Demons, the Terrible Ones of the Dark Places. You have strength and influence among the Realm. Raise for us a group of companions, for Zirniheala means to go and regain her Stone from the Evils. Raise a troop of strong and loyal Quiluma, for she desires to be accompanied by her comrades here."

Ceadarlo blinked incredulously yet his face soon broke into an almost pleasant smile. "Is this so? Well then you shall have no trouble in getting a band of helpers, as they all love her, the soldiers and workers for Miondoyl. The Prince knows of this, does he not?"

"My father is aware of it. He will give us permission to bring with us his subjects. Do you think you could persuade Gnoril and Thirnamé to come?"

"Persuade them? They will be begging to accompany Zirniheala, wherever she may have need to go, I'm quite sure of that! Yet what others do you suggest, Ilaera?"

Ilaera paused and thought. "I don't know. My grandfather has under his command many brave warriors. Yet we will need sharp minds as well as strong bodies to succeed against the Terrible Ones, for their devices are both mental and physical."

"Under your leave then, Princess, may I go to your father for aid in the choosing of companions? I shall have to get better dressed and put together though." He glanced nervously down upon his tousled appearance.

She laughed, a free and silvery sound. "Of course. My thanks to you Ceadarlo." He nodded and she winked to him as he took back to his rooms.

"Where to now?" asked Zirniheala. She had been put in better spirits from Ilaera's and Ceadarlo's conversation, which she found somewhat amusing.

"To my chamber again, we are going to deck you out for travel and peril!"

~

Zirniheala stood before Ilaera's bed. The Princess hovered around her, almost as if she were a maidservant preparing a noble lady in her fine apparel. This intrigued Zirniheala that Ilaera would behave so, for previously she had seemed somewhat elite and high and entirely unaffected by the happenings of the common folk. Yet now she played the part of an equal; she was a friend and dear ally, and she did not place her own matters above those of the Night Child, despite her great rank.

There lay upon a large wooden dresser in the corner several leather bands laid over a copper rack. These Ilaera took and bound Zirniheala's fine long hair with, braiding it carefully behind her ears and rolling it into a tight bun at the nape of her neck.

"It will not do to wear such a delicate flowing gown and mantle, Zirniheala. You must be clad efficiently. Disrobe and I will find you some proper journeying clothing."

Zirniheala did so and laid her long white dress and scarves over the cast iron foot of the bed. Ilaera pulled a large chest out from under her bed and dug through its contents, flinging pieces of cloth and other soft object in what Zirniheala thought was a characteristic manner.

"Ah. Here, you can wear this." She handed a dusky green piece of clothing over the bed. It was a tunic of medium size; it had long thick sleeves and reached to Zirniheala's shins when she put it on. The material was course and thick yet not uncomfortable. There was around the hem and neckline a trim of blue and black designs, swirls and leaves of many kinds. With the tunic was a thick leather belt hammered with plates of plain steel. Also a pair of grey leggings Ilaera found in the bottom of the chest and gave these as well to Zirniheala.

"You will need some suitable boots too," said the Princess. "Those you wear are too soft. They will need to keep out the water and cold and not be punctured by piercing rock shards."

"Have you boots in my size? My feet are a good deal bigger than Quiluma feet."

Ilaera laughed softly. "Never fear. My father has a great array of shoes in his possession, human-foot sizes included."

Miondoyl was grave of face when his daughter came to him in the matter of the stolen stone. He shook his head in sympathy, and yet he seemed glad that Zirniheala had not lost hope in the whole affair. And he was actually quite jovial when Ilaera queried of his assortment of shoes and smiled broadly as he presented them with a truly massive collection of footwear.

"This," he said proudly, eyes glistening. "Is my fondest physical display of inanimate objects in this realm. Sure my jewels and silks count as something, and my subjects may marvel at it and call it 'King's worth' but none of those trinkets evoke such gladness in my heart. For there has never been such-"

"Father," Ilaera cut into his extending speech (for she had heard him deliver it to many a visitor). "We are in need of traveling boots, for Zirniheala. She has only soft house-slippers as of now."

"Traveling boots!" he exclaimed with quite uncharacteristic glee. This surprised Zirniheala, to say the least, and she gasped slightly as he flung his hands in the air in gesticulation and began to make his way over to his oaken closet. "Never such delights when you are in out in the wilds as a good pair of boots."

Zirniheala suppressed a grin.

"What measurement in inches are your feet?" he asked, placing an eclectic assortment of sturdy looking boots on the floor.

"I do not know, sire, as I have never cared to measure them. The Nymphs always brought me the correct size of slippers from their trading trips."

"Well then it is high time you had your size of boot marked." He reached into the shadowy closet and produced a small carven box of deep crimson cherry wood. The lid slid open easily and he took out a flat rod with several black marks on the edge. This stick he held parallel to Zirniheala's foot. With a few hums and grunts of confirmation and lifts of his eyebrows he soon declared her foot to be the size of "Ovyn" or eight.

Thusly, he gave to her a pair of ruddy leather boots of medium height. They were flexible and comfortable enough but they very tough, he assured her, and even if she somehow, gods forbid, became harmed, her feet would not be cold or wet, if she kept these securely fastened around her ankles.

Zirniheala thanked him and she and Ilaera took their leave of his room. However, he did not let them depart before he had given many words of advice to them both, in the matter of cross-country efficiency and safety.

"And do not be ashamed to allow the warriors to watch over you. It would be fairly foolish to do otherwise." Ilaera laughed and Zirniheala bit her lip in nervousness. "Yet whatsoever you do, be cautious almost to the unreasonable extreme, for you truly cannot be too wary in the lands to the south where the Terrible Ones dwell."

"Believe me, my lord, I am not about to be too bold and fearless on some mission such as this! I fear I shall need all the courage I can muster," said Zirniheala.

"Don't worry so much, Zirniheala. There is more in you than you think."

~

Ceadarlo smiled with satisfaction as he glanced over the ten Quiluma met in the aspen grove of the Mydd. He had succeeded quite well in his quest for companions in Zirniheala's journey, whether it led into the very claws that held the Winds Stone or no. There was certainly not a lack of Quiluman bowmen and magic-workers eager to join Ceadarlo and Ilaera in their tiny convoy with Zirniheala into the southlands. Ceadarlo prided himself in choosing wonderfully the select few. Among these were some of the very best and most skilled Quiluman fighters and enchanters and trackers. These professions, he had decided, were quite necessary considering the circumstances. He had gotten two bowmen, Fordion and Wethwir; four enchanters, Fria, Calkyen, Guiar and Iura; and also four huntsmen and trackers, Nenrho, Hithat, Mathelca and Fobar. And sooner or later, he anticipated, his cousin and brother, Thirnamé and Gnoril were to arrive together as well.

Presently Ceadarlo greeted Zirniheala and the Princess Ilaera. The latter was dressed appropriately for their journey as well now; previously where the crystalline blue jewels hung in her hair, the thick grey hood of her heavy traveling cloak now was pulled up around her neck. She wore also light woolen breeches and a course linen tunic. She looked hardly like a noble lady in her rough traveling garb, but Ceadarlo could see her silver eyes from under the edge of her hood and he shivered. Her beauty, he mused, was present no matter her surroundings.

Ceadarlo was brought from his reverie by something spoken by Zirniheala. It was sounded to him as only a blur of noise though.

"I am sorry, what was it that you said?"

"I asked if this was all there was coming with me. Surely there are no more."

"Aye," he sighed and drew a hand to his eyes. "There are two more I am expecting, Gnoril my brother and my cousin Thirnamé. They insisted upon accompanying you and said they will see your stone safely returned to your hands if even they never returned."

Zirniheala raised a slender brow and smiled slowly.

"Really, there was nothing to be done in discouraging them. They should be here soon, though I am not surprised at their tardiness. I have surnamed Gnoril the Ever-delayed."

An unseen snigger came from a thicket of trees behind them. Two pairs of slender hands were positioned upon their respective owners' hips.

"Ever-delayed, you name me, brother?" said Gnoril teasingly. "Why, it was not I that was belated in my arrival but Thirnamé! He was to meet me at the top of the steps to the Mydd yet he never did appear! I waited and waited for him, ever patiently, as always, yet to no avail. I was forced to go down to his chambers to search for him! Can you believe it?"

Ceadarlo rolled his eyes.

"I hope you have enough provisions packed this time, Gnoril," he said. "The last time we went out of the realm you had a mere three packets of venison to feast upon during our entire extended excursion."

Gnoril tucked his hair behind his ear and glanced innocently to the side.

"Yet cease, Ceadarlo, I beg of you," said Ilaera. "We have a far way ahead of us and we must keep our thoughts focused."

"Have you checked the provisions and packs completely, Ceadarlo?" queried Thirnamé.

"I have, provided you two have properly packed your own things."

Thirnamé gave a short laugh. "We have, rest assured, cousin."

Ceadarlo looked to Zirniheala with a nod.

"Well then I suppose we are off!" she said.