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."See,the South Window shows the Gate at Carnconnor, that thou call'st the Hob's Hill."A curious thought struck Ashalind."Does it show the passage which divides the outer Door in the side of Hob's Hill from the inner Door tothe Fair Realm? Does that passage lie in Erith or in Faerie?"Distracted, Easgathair glanced over his shoulder."I must return to the Northwest Window.""Allow me to explain." The fetching Cierndanel, who seemed to be everywhere at once, took theGatekeeper's place."Every Gateway comprises two Doors, an inner and an outer, with a shortpassageway between.Time flows at different speeds in Erith and the Realm.A Gate-passage is neededto adjust the flow when something passes from one stream to the other.It operates like a lock in a canal.""Suppose someone was trapped in there!" said the damsel, thinking of the Gatehouse at the palace inHythe Mellyn, with its fortified barbican and its ceiling pierced by murder-holes for the destruction ofinvaders."There exists a safeguard to prevent such an accident.When they are locked, the Gates at each end willstill open outwards only, permitting traffic to flow out of the Gate-passage in either direction.""Like eel traps backwards," put in Rhys, intrigued.Recognizing the Piper, drawn by him, he had ceasedPage 281 his vain attempts to capture a bird in his hands."Just so, perspicacious lad.But from this hour, such engines are of use no longer.Already has each Keybeen turned in each Lock.All Keys, great and small, have been remitted to Easgathair White Owl fromthe emerald Key of Geata Duilach, the Leaf Gate, with its intricate wards, to the silver-barreled crystalKey of the Moon Gate; the shell and jade of Geata Cuan's Key and the great basalt Key of Geata Ard.They lie, indestructible but untouchable, in the Green Casket, which is even now sealed by the Passwordof the Fithiach." He gestured toward the casket on the plinth."Every bond on every Door has been set tolock and link, and now it only remains to join them at the appointed and immutable hour of the Closing.Listen! Do you not hear? The winds of gramarye are awakening at this outrage, the winds of Ang.Theyflare from the Ringstorm at Erith's rim.Soon they might prowl the lands of thy world, dyed by theimprints of men's designs."The smile that usually played about his lips had left him.A shadow crossed his attractive face."But something's amiss.Thou seest how the crowds cluster about the Northwest Window, with WhiteOwl at their fore.They look upon a Gate we call the Geata Poeg na Deanainn , awaiting Angavar HighKing and Prince Morragan, who still ride within Erith's boundaries.The royal brothers dare to ride late,as the Closing draws nigh.The first Call is about to sound!""Why do they tarry?" asked Ashalind, craning her neck for a better view of the Northwest Window."The Fithiach and his followers were returning from a last Rade in Erith, hawking I was informed butthe King and his knights have ridden out to detain them, blocking their path."In the Northwest Window a scene revealed itself with startling detail and clarity.A hush fell on theassembly in the Watchtower.Beyond the Window the skies of Erith sheeted storm gray and a strongwind drove the clouds at a cracking pace.Thunderheads boiled over darkly.Two companies of riders faced each other, one led by Prince Morragan, whose sculpted face couldclearly be seen framed by the long dark hair and cloak billowing out behind him.His followers, about ahundred tall Faran knights, sat motionless upon their horses.Harsh-faced, they gazed upon the King'sretinue, which was massed between them and the traverse called the Geata Poeg na Deanainn.TheFaran King's voice could clearly be heard, by the enchantment of the Watchtower Window."Brother, renounce thy boon of the Gatekeeper.Shall I drive thee forth before the Gates close and shaltthou be exiled forever from the Realm?"The watchers cried out in shock and dismay, but the Crown Prince betrayed no sign of disquiet.Calmly,he replied: "Dost think me a fool? 'Tis a game of bluff.""Nay," replied the King, "there is no more time for games."For an instant, anger flashed from the Crown Prince's eyes, then he smiled and lifted a hand in a signal tohis knights.They split into two groups and sprang away, one to the right, the other to the left.Immediately the King's knights spread out to block them, but some broke through and were harried andpursued, and wrestled from their steeds.Faran-wrought metal flashed up silver against the purplestormwrack of the furious skies.Desperately, the followers of the Fithiach raced to elude their hunters, toreach the portal between the worlds, the Geata Poeg na Deanainn.Among all these knights, two stoodout the High King and his brother.These two, so noble of bearing, strove hardest each against theother.The wind was howling, running before the storm.Page 282 Suddenly, cutting across the milling confusion, the sound of a horn rang out, dulcet and virginal, piercingboth worlds.Faran, mortal, and wight alike paused and lifted their eyes."The First Call to Faerie," cried Easgathair White Owl."The appointed hour approaches.Hasten home!"Some among the assembled Faran exclaimed to one another in consternation, "They must hurry! 'Tistoo odious a fate they are hazarding!"Cierndanel said to Ashalind, "The Sundering of Aia will wreak great changes in Erith, many of whichcannot be foretold.The very Gates themselves might become distorted or dislocated beyond recognition.As the instant of Closing draws upon us, Time, habitually unsynchronized, begins to run awry.The Kingand the Prince risk misjudging the moment of their return.""Ah," murmured Ashalind, whose thoughts were far away."How I crave to return to my home.I cannotbear that this should be my final view of it.Yet, should I return, I would pine away swiftly.The Langothe,incurable, would destroy me.""Not necessarily," said Cierndanel in surprise, wresting his gaze from the Window, "for there is a cure forthe Langothe." At his throat the eyes of the slender serpent glared, twin peridots, coldly insulted byhumanity."A cure!" Ashalind whirled to confront him."Lord Easgathair never told us!""You did not ask for the cure, my lady, but instead for entry into the Realm, which was granted.""A cure!" Oppression unchained Ashalind's spirit and she laughed weakly, too stunned at this revelationto be vexed at Faran literalness."Where is this cure? How can I obtain it?""Perhaps it is not commonly known amongst mortals, but the High King of the Realm has the power totake away the Langothe.He is the only one who can do so
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