---
Everyone had a piece of the work in their hands. No one had a small wyrmling by the scruff of the neck.
He stopped in the center hall and stood very still. When he stood like that, the mountain paid attention. His voice went out to the near walls and came back without echo.
"Miryam," he called. Not loud. It was clear. "Little princess. Come here."
No small claws skittered. No darting shape shot from under a bench. No giggle gave away a hiding place. The hall gave him back his own breath.
He turned and looked up to the high slit in the ceiling where air could come and go. The slice of blue said the rest of the day would be sharp and bright. He looked at Alka's roost. The giant bird tipped her head and blinked.
"Did you see her go out," he asked.
Alka's answer came as a low, thoughtful trill. "I saw her last before dawn. After that I sat in the wind. I smelled her at the east lip, then nothing strong. The air is thin today."
