The ancient warrior took his klane from the honoured place over the hearth. Most of the strength and the skill of his youth had faded and he no longer relished combat yet he could still wield this alien weapon with some of his old mastery and he would not be parted from it now, despite the voice within him which whispered that that this would be his final foe and that it would not be defeated by force of arms. Increasingly he was minded to recall the stories Orietta had told him in the station of seers so long ago. That very night he had dreamt of the boy he had once been; not Klane Kalonia but just Asanka listening to his mother’s explanation of the Rider Marriage Journey again. And when he woke it had seemed to him that there was a chance the giant might respect an unarmed man as the Rider communities had once done in the days before the new cities. So the klane rested uneasily in the sheath at his back, but he wore it anyway. Soon Uraton was cantering over the chalk of Ilunon and Klane felt his heart lift. Although it was so near to his castle, the old man had not returned to the country of his youth for many years. How strange that the giant should arise in this land of soft grass and gently rolling down land! Yet, though at first glance they might seem changeless, still the downs were not exactly as they had been. The menace of the alegoyle had been defeated and there were more sheep and more shepherds. Klane stopped to ask one where the giant might be and was directed to a steep gorge where a high cave was cut back into the rocks.