I rest.

Sleep comes easily in my own small room, and I eat at table with Makari and his family, and I wander the small village, looking around, and asking questions. I make no point of hiding the fact that I am an apprentice shaman and so come to the attention of Nakata, the shaman of Raven Hill. She is ancient, and definitely does not suffer fools gladly, but she takes me under her wing and makes me welcome. Her apprentice, a quiet woman just a year or two older than me, is named Giliana, and also proves a valuable ally. She points out several places in the wilderness around the village that have mystic significance.

I make use of my Sight—a kind of sense of the mystical that I’ve had for as long as I can remember. It’s a difficult thing to describe. In the Ironlands we call it “Sight”, but it really has nothing to do with seeing. Not, at least, with one’s eyes. It’s more a sense of something extra, a kind of potential or presence, which might abide in a place, or with a person, or even in an object. It might manifest as a kind of vision, or as an understanding of things unspoken. It’s not exactly a rare talent, but it’s not common, either. Oden could sense it in me, which is why he took me as his apprentice in the first place.

The sites that Giliana shows me certainly resonate in my Sight, though. Some, she says, are where members of the village died in recent years. Others are places where Nakata has had visions of the past. One place—a small crater in the rocky ground—was where a chunk of star iron fell from the sky about a year ago. Giliana shows me the pocked rock in the shaman’s cabin she shares with Nakata, and I can feel the great power in it typical of such rocks.

I learn from one farmer of a cave a couple of miles from the village, near the top of the hill from which the village has its name. He actually tells me of several caves in the area—the region is infested with them, apparently—but this one cave in particular piques my interest for some reason. It tickles a memory of something I’d read in the scrolls the villagers have collected, and I pull the papers out and review them.

Ah, this one: two friends (or siblings, as another tale tells it) fought one another long ago, near this place. Something about a dire betrayal in the dark. Perhaps in a cave? Perhaps this cave? It all sounds quite ominous, and I wonder if it might have some bearing on my quest.

I see Giliana that afternoon, and hail her. She smiles as she sees me.

“Inka,” she says. “You’re looking well.”

“I’m feeling well,” I say. “Many thanks to you. And Nakata, of course.”

“Have you been spending your time well? You’ve been resting, I hope.”

“I have,” I say. “Been resting, that is. And spending my time well.” My tongue feels all tied in knots suddenly. “Um. Do you know anything about that cave?” I cringe inwardly at the awkwardness of the question.

She raises an eyebrow. “That cave?”

“The one near the top of the hill. Raven Hill Cave, I think it’s called?”

She nods. “Ah. That cave.” She purses her lips and looks around, as if fearful of someone watching. When she speaks again, her voice is low, almost a whisper. “I…don’t know very much about it. But Nakata would not be happy to know I was sharing even the little I’ve heard. Surely there are stories in the scrolls Makari gave you?”

“There are,” I say. “The scrolls have been very helpful. I was just…hoping you might be free to show me the way to it.”

Her eyes grow wide. “Oh, I couldn’t,” she says, and my heart falls. She must see my expression change, because she is quick to clarify. “That is to say, I would love to keep showing you the land around Raven Hill, but the cave... Nakata would be angry. I really can’t take you there. I’m sorry.”

She looks so devastated that I’m quick to blow it all off. “Not to worry,” I say. “I would never want you to upset Nakata. I understand, truly.” Still, I resolve to ask about the cave at table with Makari and his family as we are eating supper.

His family is large, and the cabin is full of a happy noise. He has three sons, all farmers, and four daughters, though two of them married outside the village and rarely visit their father anymore. The cabin is full of grandchildren, of whom Nisus is close to being the eldest. When I ask about the cave, Makari nods knowingly.

“Yes, yes,” he says. “Raven Hill Cave. Who mentioned that to you? No, it doesn’t matter. It’s definitely one of the few points of interest in the area, it’s no surprise you learned of it.”

“Have you ever been inside it?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “No, but I’ve been to it, several times. It is a popular site with the young men, who enjoy daring each other to step inside. Foolishness, but such is youth.”

Nisus looks suspiciously guilty. I avoid doing more than glance at him.

“I think I’d like to visit the cave,” I say.

Makari raises an eyebrow. “Oh? Feeling a need to prove yourself?” Those near us at the table all chuckle.

“Something like that,” I say, smiling.

“Well, I’m not spry enough these days to make the trip, but I’m sure any of the village’s young men would be happy to oblige. Perhaps Nisus, here.”

Nisus starts up, blushing. “Yes, Grandfather,” he says. “Inka. I’d be happy to show you the way.”

“Perhaps in the morning?” I ask, and Nisus nods.

I ask some more questions of those at the table, trying to learn what I can of the the cave. Little is known, it seems, though much is rumored. Some at the table claim they’ve heard the cave hides a “perilous secret,” which sounds appropriately ominous. Others talk of hauntings, or wild beasts, or someone who knows someone who went in and never came back out again. None here are willing to admit to entering the cave themselves, though.

Their information mirrors some of what I’ve read in the scroll. In addition to the tale of warring siblings that might relate to the cave, another mentions ancient structures, and obscure messages carved into the very wells. It sounds very much like there may be something worth learning inside. Perhaps this is what the mysterious “Delkash” had in mind for me to do? Not for the first time, I wonder why he couldn’t have simply left a message telling me what path I ought to take next, instead of being so vague.

By the end of the evening I’ve determined to do more than just visit the cave—I’m going to go inside. That night I make sure my bag is packed, and I ask Makari for a supply of torches. He purses his lips, but says nothing against my plan. I think he must sense my determination, and perhaps thinks that I’m puzzling out something from the rumors, and from the “prophecy” that Delkash left behind.

In a way, I guess I am, though I certainly don’t feel as confident as I try to sound. In fact, as I lay down to sleep, I struggle to calm my thoughts. Questions whirl endlessly in my mind, doubts about myself and my quest, worry about Oden, and more questions, always more questions, about Hilda, and Delkash, and Raven Hill cave.

It is late when I finally sleep, and my dreams are ominous and unsettling.