On the fringe of the little group, Med helps the stable hand by holding on to the lead line while he ties on the other horses and prepares to walk them back down the ridge for the night. The stable hand is named Aaron. He knows very little about wild animal signs, but he's happy to chat. He supposes that whatever animal made the mess was not a horse. Med gleans from him that Sir Nobody is actually named Preston Nills and that he has arranged to pay Aaron to lead his horse down as well. Master Nills, it seems, has some sort of awkward connection to the Countess' retinue, but Aaron is puzzled by the details. Having made quick work of his preparations, Aaron mounts the lead horse and sets off back down the ridge.
Med catches up with Pral and together they poke around the woods near the trail. The slope drops off quickly on all sides, making it difficult to explore far. Neither of them sees any further sign of a large animal.
When they return to the group, Sir Nobody has come among them. He is young, perhaps twenty years, dressed in chain mail and helmet. He carries an elegant longsword. His gear and accessories are not fancy but appear finely made and well cared for. His stony expression is partially obscured by a drooping mustache of the sort currently in fashion in cities. He makes a stiff bow to the Countess before he speaks.
"With your leave, my lady, I shall travel ahead to inspect the path and warn the sisters of our coming."
Countess Grau does bother not look up from her food to make her casual reply.
"As always Sir, you are no part of my household and may do as you please. Do not linger here."
Nills bows again, and strides off down the path into the crevasse. The Countess pays him no heed. Everyone else exchanges glances.
In the crevasse, the trail crosses a little stone bridge over a rushing stream and then begins its long, arduous ascent. Though the peak didn't look far from the stopping place, the hike takes all afternoon and into the evening. Those in armor, even Pral, find the steepest portions strenuous. Harwold, though carrying no burden at all, has to stop frequently to catch his breath.
Finally, the trail leads straight up to the base of a sheer cliff, perhaps two hundred feet high. An ornate archway fitted with an iron portcullis leads directly into the side of the cliff. The portcullis is open, and standing just outside are Sir Nills and a somber looking woman dressed in white woolen robes.
"Greetings Countess Grau," she says, "We are surprised and honored by your visit. When you are ready, we shall make the final ascent."
It turns out that the final ascent is a long stairway through a tunnel in the cliff. Med counts 473 steps before the stairs emerge in the center of a small, paved courtyard, surrounded on all four sides by buildings of ancient stonework. Nothing but sky can be seen above these walls. A cold wind howls above the walls.
"Please," the woman in white greets you all, "rest here a bit." She indicates some stone benches under a covered walkway, onto which everyone drops in exhaustion. "The bell will toll shortly to invite you into the refectory to sup. We ask that you leave your weapons outside and maintain a wholesome silence while within."
To the Countess, she says, "You may sleep in the High Priestess' cell, where there is a modest bed. Your company, being all men, must sleep out here. We shall lay out some pallets and blankets. The Oracle, for I assume it is her that you seek, will see you at dawn."
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