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'He is a warrior. Perhaps the death he dreams of is his own,' said

Cadillac. He looked expectantly at Mr Snow.

The old wordsmith smoothed his beard and fixed his eyes on Steve.

'There are dreams that mirror the workings of the mind, dreams that

reflect the desires of the body, and dreams that bridge the void

between this world and that of the Sky People. It is true that over

such a bridge certain knowledge comes but, alas, I am not a seer. I

cannot say what Motor-Head's words may mean, or know what he has

seen.

What I can say is that there will come a time when the role you are

destined to play in the emergence of Talisman will be revealed to

you."

Mr Snow paused, then added enigmatically. 'At that moment you will

discover not only what it is you have to do but also who you are."

The two wordsmiths watched Steve impassively as he reflected silently

on what he had just been told. He lifted his eyes to theirs. 'When is

all this supposed to happen?"

Mr Snow spread a palm. 'When the earth gives the sign."

'Yes, I know what the words say,' said Steve, with a trace of

irritation. 'But when is that going to be? You've been waiting six

hundred and fifty years already! Maybe the saviour of the Plainfolk

isn't coming. He may have decided that it's safer to stay where he

is."

Mr Snow's calm remained undisturbed. 'He will come.

Not in my lifetime, perhaps. But certainly in yours - an event you may

regret, for you are destined to be a leader of your people."

'I, also, shall know Talisman,' said Cadillac, not wishing to be left

out of the discussion of such great events. 'The Old One has told me

this."

Even though Mr Snow's words seemed to confirm his own belief that he

had been marked out for greater things, the conversation did little to

ease Steve's inner turmoil.

Even his basic instinct for survival, which should have been telling

him to head for cover, was being torn in two. Steve remained

insatiably curious as to what his possible role might be but, at the

same time, was frightened by what he might discover. Despite his

deep-seated responses to what he had seen and heard, Steve's Tracker

background, with its emphasis on unquestioning obedience,

military-style discipline and rigorously applied logic, made him shy

away from the darker side of the Mute persona with its predictive

visions and its manipulative magic. The world of the Mutes was like a

giant whirlpool waiting to trap the unwary. Those foolish enough to

leap into the swirling currents in search of the answers to its

mysteries were slowly sucked towards the dark vortex at its centre and

disappeared without trace. And yet, and yet... Steve felt himself

drawn back towards it, gripped by a shadowy power beyond his control.

Escorted by thirty Bears, Mr Snow and Cadillac left the settlement and,

over the next three days, ran eastwards going far beyond the clan's

turf markers into the Middle Lands of the Plainfolk. Twice, during the

outward journey, they encountered the markers of other clans; on each

occasion they altered course to run around the territory involved.

Once, they lay hidden until dark to avoid a large hunting party. Not

because they feared a confrontation, but because it was unnecessary.

It would have involved a needless waste of life. After the battle with

the iron snake, the clan needed to husband its strength in readiness

for the next confrontation with the sand-burrowers. Mr Snow's purpose

was to find a specific location which the Sky Voices had indicated to

him in a recent message. Eventually, after running nearly four hundred

miles, his inner ear told him that they had reached the approximate

location - the point where the great river whose course they had

followed all the way down from the Western Hills met its sister coming

up from the south-west. A point which, on pre-Holocaust maps of the

overground, marked the junction of the North and South Platte Rivers in