area, which had been limited by the fabric he'd been able to salvage,

simply would not generate enough lift. The only other alternative was

suicidal, but he brushed aside all thoughts of failure and seized her

firmly by the arms. 'Okay, then - we'll go on foot."

Clearwater shook her head sadly, her eyes filled with tears. 'Oh,

golden one - think with your head not your heart.

You ask the impossible! Where could we run to? Look at me! I am a

Mute?

Steve ran his hands along the black and brown jigsaw pattern on her

forearms. 'You're not! Not like the others I' !Yes, I know,

underneath this my skin is like yours, but your people would never

accept me. And even if they did, I could not live in your dark world

beneath the desert."

'It's not dark!" hissed Steve. 'There is no night! Even in the

deepest place the light is as bright as when the sun is at the head of

the sky! There is no White Death, no rain.

Thousands of us spend our whole lives within the earth-shield.

Happily,' he added, with less than total conviction.

'I could not live in your bright burrows for a day,' whispered

Clearwater. 'Is that what you wish to do with me - take me down there

to die?"

'No, no,' muttered Steve. He searched his mind desperately for a more

practical solution to their predicament; a more persuasive argument.

Clearwater caressed his cheek. 'Even if I agreed to come with you, we

are doomed from the start. You would not be able to outrun the

Bears.

They would hunt us relentlessly night and day, even in their sleep."

Steve knew she was referring to the Mutes' ability to run

continuously, with their characteristic loping stride, for twenty-four

hours or more, sleeping on their feet like birds on the wing. He

thought hard and suddenly had a brilliant idea. 'What about your

magic? You made that rock fly, didn't you? You can use that to

protect us!" Clearwater shook her head again. 'No. It would be too

dangerous. I am no match for Mr Snow."

Steve looked at her with a surprised frown.

Clearwater looked equally surprised. 'Did he not tell you he was a

summoner when he spoke of the Talisman Prophecy?"

'No,' said Steve. 'He forgot to mention it."

'There are nine Great Rings of Power,' explained Clearwater. 'I have

barely grasped the first two. Mr Snow has absolute mastery over the

first seven."

'What about the other two?"

'Only Talisman is strong enough to wield the Nine,' replied

Clearwater.

'But no one among the Plainfolk has the power of Mr Snow. The Seventh

Ring is called the Storm-Bringer.

Were you not there, aboard the iron snake, when he blinded it with mist

then brought lightning, thunder and the flood waters down upon it?"

'Are you telling me that old man..." Steve stared at her with stunned

disbelief. 'He did that? Mr Snow ... made that river flood? Almost

wrecked the train?"

'Yes!" Steve tried to cope with this revelation. Incredible though it

was, he did not doubt a word of it. He pictured the rock plummeting

from the sky and then he thought about the spiked heads of Fazetti and

Naylor outside her hut in the forest. 'And what did you do?"

Clearwater looked deep into his eyes and read the question in his mind

before answering. 'I did what had to be done. And I also saved you

from Motor-Head's hammer."

She sealed his lips as he went to reply then took hold of his hands and

kissed them lovingly, holding them against her face. 'You must go! I

beg you - go now! Don't wait until Cadillac and Mr Snow return!" It

was against all Steve's instincts to break and run when the going was

tough but this time he knew it was the smart thing to do. There was no

way he could hide what had happened - especially from Mr Snow, who had

shown h