ew of the Folk suffered injury. Gibi scouts
reported that the land about the entrance to the Caves had sunk, and
that the River of Gold, thrown out of its bed, was fast filling this
basin to form a lake.

As far as they could discover, none of the Black Ones had survived the
battle and the sealing of the Caves. But they could not be sure that
there was not a handful of outlaws somewhere within the confines of Tav.

The Crater itself was changed. A series of raw hills had appeared in the
central plain. The pool of boiling mud had vanished and trees in the
forest lay flat, as if cut by a giant scythe.

Upon their return to the cliff city, the Gibi found most of their wax
skyscrapers in ruins, but they set about rebuilding without complaint.
The squirrel farmers emerged from their burrows and were again busy in
the fields.

Garin felt out of place in all the activity that filled the Caverns.
More than ever he was the outlander with no true roots in Tav.
Restlessly, he explored the Caverns, spending many hours in the Place of
Ancestors, where he studied those men of the outer world who had
preceded him into this weird land.

One night when he came back to his chamber he found Dandtan and Trar
awaiting him there. There was a curious hardness in Dandtan's attitude,
a somber sobriety in Trar's carriage.

"Have you sought the Hall of Women since the battle?" demanded the son
of the Ancient Ones abruptly.

"No," retorted Garin shortly. Did Dandtan accuse him of double dealing?

"Have you sent a message to Thrala?"

Garin held back his rising temper. "I have not ventured where I can
not."

Dandtan nodded to Trar as if his suspicions had been confirmed. "You see
how it stands, Trar."

Trar shook his head slowly. "But never has the summoning been at
fault--"

"You forget," Dandtan reminded him sharply. "It was once--and the
penalty was exacted. So shall it be again."

Garin looked from one to the other, confused. Dandtan seemed possessed
of a certain ruthless anger, but Trar was manifestly unhappy.

"It must come after council, the Daughter willing," the Lord of the Folk
said.

Dandtan strode toward the door. "Thrala is not to know. Assemble the
Council tonight. Meanwhile, see that he," he jerked his thumb toward
Garin, "does not leave this room."

Thus Garin became a prisoner under the guard of the Folk, unable to
discover of what Dandtan accused him, or how he had aroused the hatred
of the Cavern ruler. Unle