It took five days to excavate a tunnel to freedom. Cautious experiment proved Sebres’ leather jerkin had the least worst taste, and that nourished them for a day. Their belts provided two meals, and Sebres’ fine shirt another two. The horn buttons had a nutty flavour. His pack went next, then Aud’s. The buckles lying forlorn were uncomfortably reminiscent of picked bones. They were undecided between a boot garnished with a spare pair of socks and Aud’s shirt when her spell dissipated to reveal daylight at the end of the shaft. Aud was lying on her stomach in a space no larger than a coffin, but her whoop of joy came clear to Sebres. Her children would not be motherless, nor Jeoreh alone. It took another hour to enlarge the tunnel, and then she could worm her head out. Below a near-vertical slope plunged to the river. A twist of her body and she was looking up, to find she was halfway between the water and the path. Drat. She wriggled back to where Sebres stood waiting anxiously.

Sebres took a look in his turn. He thought the climb to the top might be manageable, but was so doubtful that he was easily dissuaded from the attempt. Aud did not want to be left alone in the delving. Her access to the ether was exhausted, and any spell she tried was likely to fail. When the cycle permitted they could climb out easily, hands and feet as secure on the rock as a gecko on a wall. They sat and watched the dark grow outside, trying to ignore their rumbling stomachs. After a while the conversation turned to philosophy, a consuming interest to Sebres and a way to pass the time for Aud.

“We know people have souls,” argued Sebres. “What of land-spirits and such-like?”

Aud was cautious in her reply. The question verged on theology and, like most magicians, she was agnostic on many issues of divinity. That the Powers existed was undeniable, but that did not mean one should worship them. She merely noted that, while human souls could be separated from the body, even to keeping them in jars, no-one had yet kept a spirit in a jar. It might be, she speculated, that land-spirits were the souls of the land.

Sebres endorsed the notion, and went on to maintain that if land-spirits were the souls each of their domains, then there must be some greater presence governing the world as a whole, evident in what the lands and seas permitted or denied. Why else, he argued, were some places Wild, where no plough could touch the soil nor two houses stand next to each other? Even outside the Wilds, mistreatment of the land incurred punishment. Aud allowed that the notion was plausible, although no such presence had ever made itself known directly. Many of the Powers were not shy; why would this one veil itself?

“It is too vast for our comprehension,” declared Sebres, “yet it is evident in the world itself. More,” he went on, “if the world has one soul, then humanity must have one too, else whom would it treat with on what is allowed or denied? The animals never despoil the land, but wax and wane in correspondence with the seasons, both of rain and dry and dearth and plenty. Yet we are not so bound by our nature, but by the world itself.”

This seemed too large a claim to Aud, but she let it go. “How should we know of this over-soul? And are the Powers governed by it?”

Sebres had put thought into these questions, and went on at length about the paths by which the human soul might approach the over-soul, and how the Powers were versions of the over-soul, guardians of particular ways of life. Aud thought it all a mass of hypotheses, an elephant of theory trying to balance on a smallish pillar of fact, and a wobbly pillar at that. It was interesting, but was it practical? After a while she excused herself and went to sleep as best she could on the hard cold floor.

The morning brought renewed access to the ether. Aud cast the Clinging Grasp on them both, and they made their way to the top with ease. Aud felt mild surprise that the landscape looked much the same as when they had sunk into the earth. The path was still there, the river rushed below, the clouds scudded across the sky. It was as if the world was indifferent to her terror, her victory, her profoundly deeper empathy with the ether. So much for Sebres’ philosophy, she thought wryly. What she wanted now was not the sympathy of the universe but a large meal, a hot bath and a bed that wasn’t stone.

Now that they were above ground, Sebres too was less interested in abstruse argument than breakfast. They set out at as good a pace as they could manage towards Terlwen. It was not as fast as Aud would wish, hungry and weary as they were. She counted her blessings: they were lightly laden and had not eaten their boots. On the other hand, shirtless Sebres shivered in the early morning breeze, and she had to hold her trousers up.

“Can you not draw on craft to keep yourself warm?’ she asked. Sebres started, gave her a rueful smile, passed his hands through arcane motions and stopped shivering.

“I did not think of it,” he explained, “for my mind was taken up with what the delving showed us.” He returned to his thoughts, his skin no longer blue, and they walked on in silence. The sun rose higher, bird calls faded from the frantic cacophony of dawn to a background of chirps and whistles, the hum of insects grew louder as it warmed. Aud could appreciate the beauty, and indeed her sense of the underlying ether-flows was sharper than ever, a layer of motion that made the whole scene more alive. It was this sense that told her of people approaching before they came into view. She touched Sebres’ arm and gave him a word that brought his spear forward.

Aud ran through the spells at her command and realised that few were useful in a fight. The Winged Dagger was among the first spells one learned, yet she had not thought to bring a knife of virgin steel. The Invisible Defence would keep off most attacks, but it was no more than a stout defense.. She looked about, picking out likely rocks. If these were more purple-eyed men, they were in for a bashing

When they rounded the turn they saw two of the local youths, both with nothing more threatening than walking staffs and packs. Aud was slightly disappointed; she had selected a lump of granite the size of her head and was hefting it in her mind. One of the youths ran forward.

“Mistress Aud? Your husband sent us up here for the last three days. We have food and drink and a warm cloak and socks.”

Jeoreh? Well, it had been – she reckoned the days – six days in the delving, and another three before that in Terlwen, when she had said she might be away for four or five days. Or Fevende might have grown worried and sent word to Pelsie. In any case, he was plainly here in Terlwen, bless his heart. And his thoughtful head. They followed the youths back to Terlwen, munching as they went. Her husband was waiting at the inn with open arms and a bath ordered. He scrubbed her feet while she recounted the week’s adventures. In truth tedious tunnelling had taken up most of the time, but was quick to tell of. Aud wriggled her toes in luxurious appreciation, and went on to the oddities of the delving. Her awed delight in the vigour of the delving’s ether-flows was open.

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“You cannot imagine, Jeoreh, the ease and speed with which I could cast, or the sheer power of the ether. It was as if its music was not just around me but inside me as well. It is not so now,” she added to reassure him, not without a touch of regret. “And it is well it was so,” she added, “for the source of the disturbance was a stone demon. My magic allowed me to beat it back into the ether.”

Her casual dismissal of the desperate struggle in the cavern did not fool Jeoreh, but he let it pass, only suggesting that the rest of the tale be told over breakfast. This they took on the river terrace, in company with Sebres and Fevende. Aud tucked in to her smoked trout, eggs and crisp-bread and let Sebres carry the conversation. This was safe enough, as Sebres talked much of the wonders of the delving and what they revealed about higher powers. The struggle with the stone demon was noted only as proof of etheric consciousness – “for if stone can hate, must it not think?”

It was only back in her – now their - room, after a pleasant hour re-acquainting themselves with each other (and yes, Jeoreh was amused at her hairless state), that the issue of the dangers she had faced came up. She was lying with her head on Jeoreh’s chest, his arm about her shoulders, when he spoke. His voice was even, but she felt his arm tighten.

“You could have died down there in the dark, and I would never have known,” he said. “I had both the locals perform tracing spells, and neither could find you.”

“Yet you did not lose hope,” Aud rejoined, feeling warm.

“More faith than hope. You are good at magic, and you were not alone.”

Aud turned to kiss Jeoreh. A while later she drew back and told him of her mind. “I feel about magic the way you feel about building ships, and the delving has shown me that I can be a much stronger magician than I am now – and I am now stronger than when I fell into the delving. The Wild is dangerous, but it strengthens one’s grasp of art and craft.”

Jeoreh’s face was still, grave. “You want to go back.”

“I need to go back,” Aud said. “There is still the matter of the man who pushed me from the path – if it was a man, and I think a nature spirit up there is misbehaving.”

“And you will teach them better manners?”

Aud gave a wry smile. “Someone has to, else machinery will keep breaking down.”

Jeoreh sighed. “I might feel the same in your place. When do you think to go?”

“When I am more prepared than this last time, dear one.”

They lay there for a time in the warm air, then Aud propped herself on an elbow to look Jeoreh in the face.

“Would you rather I did not pursue this quest?”

Jeoreh took his time to answer and when he did his voice was hesitant as he picked the right words. “Venturing is dangerous. You could die in the Wild and I and the children would lose you and all the years we hope to have together. Yet … magic is your passion. Deny that and I lose you, more slowly but just as surely, and in a more … grievous way than if you fall to a blade out there.” He made a vague wave of his free arm. “If the Wild can make you a better magician, I will not ask that you not enter it.” After another pause he added “After all, you never asked me not to go to sea, even when the children were small.”

Aud gave him a hug, and they stayed in bed until lunchtime.

* * * *

Aud returned to Terlwen a week later with a new pack, four virgin steel daggers tucked into her belt and a second spell-book. The Association librarian at Pelsie had been very helpful, hauling trunks down from the attic and fossicking at the back of cupboards. Several of the books unearthed bore the scars of combat and closed with a brief epitaph, in one case written in blood. When not rehearsing new spells Aud spent the hours poring over Clousaz’ Anatomy of the Spirit World and the latest available copy of the Compendium of Powers, Lesser, Greater and Ineffable.

The next day she again stood on the path high above the river. Sebres watched with interest as she dabbed a potion here and there on her person, then offered him the vial. “Spirit Repellent,” she told him helpfully. “Put a few drops wherever you feel a spirit might try to enter you.” Sebres took the vial and dabbed away with alacrity.

Aud next drove a silver spike into the soil, checked her spell book and then uttered Words that hung shimmering in the air for slow moments. Aud expected some small animal, or perhaps a large one. From her reading, land-spirits usually chose to be present through owl-cats or moon-bears or, less often, possums. Instead she watched as a multitude of insects, flying, crawling and hopping, coalesced on a nearby bush into a large ball. This gave various exploratory hums, buzzes and chirps before emitting something close to speech. After several repetitions they made out a phrase.

“You have called and I have come.” After a pause it added “You stink.”

Aud blinked, then replied “Well, yes. We are not tasty.” The ball bobbed up and down, Aud hoped in agreement.

“Your domain is beautiful, and feels content,” she ventured. The ball went from pale green to light red as insects shifted about, then to an iridescent blue. Aud raised an eyebrow at Sebres, who gave a small shake of the head. His craft told him no more than her art. She shifted her feet and waited. After a time the ball extruded two spindly legs and wobbled away from the bush. The legs spread at the bottom to form splayed claws. The ball shuffled about for no reason Aud could discern, shed a halo of flies and then whistled a short tune. After a moment it whistled another, and both recognised a melody Sebres was fond of humming. Sebres coughed, hummed the same tune, then, inspired, sang three verses of a hymn to the earth’s bounty. He had a fine voice, and the ball bounced up and down on its stork-thin legs.

“Good noise.”

“Not like bad noise,” it added, then whistled the hymn’s melody with added stridulations and a chirping cricket coda. Sebres, who was far more musical than Aud, nodded appreciatively and produced a recorder from his pack. For the next while Aud was treated to a musical exchange, both solo and duets for mixed insects and recorder. She finally seized an interlude to remark that such fine music should not be marred by unpleasant intrusions. The ball was in vigorous agreement. Aud inquired as to the source of the bad noise. If the bad noise were removed, then further music might be possible. The ball found the suggestion pleasing, and embarked on a long story, made longer by snatches of musical experiment. They concluded with another chorale and she and Sebres left. The ball shed insects until only a line of caterpillars remained, winding their way in single file away from the path.

Aud and Sebres compared notes on the walk back to Terlwen. The story it had told supported the notion that the delving had extruded itself into the area recently, and the stone demon manifested a little later. Perhaps both had resulted from the ‘bad noise’ the spirit was incensed about. The spirit’s notions of direction did not accord with human perceptions, but “sun’s path above the water’s coil” pointed further up the valley, “a bee’s flight” said no more than an hour’s walk, while “where only the deepest roots go” told of something underground. As for what the source of the noise was, the spirit had only said it was “of the bone kind”.

“We’ll just have to look and see,” sighed Aud.

Sebres nodded, then added “If we could find a lap-harpist and a good soprano voice, that would be really something to hear.”