nd that became a harsh sobbing noise as he was

shaken by another spasm.

After a few moments, the convulsions died away. He slumped forward

awkwardly, crushed under the weight of his grief.

Mr Snow watched him in silence.

For several minutes Cadillac did not move then he slowly sat up, drew

his shoulders back and turned his tear-streaked face towards Mr Snow,

gazing at him with great tenderness.

'There is nothing but pain and sorrow in this stone." He cast it

aside.

'The world is full of it, my son,' replied Mr Snow quietly.

'It is the burden of the Warrior. The dark side of existence that

threatens to crush the soul. Only those strong enough to bear it can

reach the light beyond where true happiness lies."

'Even so, I wish you had not brought me here."

'Why not?"

'Because this is the place of your death, Old One."

Cadillac's eyes filled with fresh tears. He brushed them away

angrily.

Mr Snow grimaced and drew his hand slowly over his beard. 'When is it

to be?"

'In less than twelve moons. Near the time of the Yellowing."

The late summer of the coming year. The old wordsmith lowered his head

and digested this news in silence then raised his eyes and let them

range over his surroundings: the rolling prairie covered with red

buffalo grass that lay north of the river; the billowing towers of

cloud advancing slowly from the eastern door like stately Spanish

galleons under full sail - precious words, those, from the Old Time

while to the south, a low band of dark grey rain cloud threw the long

shadowed stand of tall, white-trunked larches into bright relief, their

orange and yellow leaves aflame in the slanting rays of the sun; to the

west, over his right shoulder, the blue, distant hills to which they

must now return. Mr Snow swept his hand around the horizon and beamed

at Cadillac.

'Come! Put away your grief and look around you! How can you be

saddened by such beauty? This is a good place to die I' Slapping his

thighs, Mr Snow rose as if he had not a care in the world, threw his

arms out wide and drank in the late afternoon air.

Cadillac had seen many things in the stone at the joining of the two

rivers. Some were too painful to talk of- even to Mr Snow - but, as

they headed west on the return leg of their journey, he revealed that

the cloud-warrior would have to be set free for it was his departure

that led directly to the events he had foreseen, bringing fulfillment

of the Prophecy one step nearer.

'It will not be easy to arrange,' observed Mr Snow.

'Despite the sign at the Biting of the Arrow, some of our clan-brothers

still seek his death. They will do all they can to prevent his

escape."

Cadillac shrugged. 'If he follows the path drawn by Talisman, the

cloud-warrior will overcome them."

Mr Snow smiled. 'Spoken like a true wordsmith. Even so, to stand any

chance of success, the cloud-warrior will have to take the arrowhead.

Can you build another?"

Cadillac nodded. 'If you desire it, yes."

The two wordsmiths exchanged a conspiratorial smile.

Steve could not have picked a more apt pupil. Cadillac did not need to

be 'taught'; the act of instruction merely provided the young wordsmith

with the opportunity to insert a mental plug into Steve's memory and