There was to be a Great Burning on the day of the autumn equinox. The call came to the tribes of the northern wastes, across the hills of Lochann and the downs of Ilunon. It travelled at the speed of rumour, almost faster than fire itself, over the Glass Lands and the moors of Ulumol and even as far downstream as the flood plains of the great river Osynder. The news reached Klane just before he set out to cross the high canyon lands and he felt a quickening of interest. A Great Burning was rare; a combination of a celebration and a lament. At the top of the Pass of Dust, he turned back to contemplate the rough land he had just climbed and paused for a moment. Then looking ahead again, Klane considered two routes that lay before him. Along the right hand ridge the way led down to a steep forest track running south. To his left the ground sloped more gently over a rough rocky plateau broken by occasional stands of dry grass. In this direction, far in the distance could be seen a low range of greener hills where rain was more plentiful and the land kinder and gentler. His original intent had been to take the road south, heading for the sea and following tales of an ancient Enclave he wished to investigate. But now he hesitated. The breeze dropped for a moment as if the world held its breath at this delicate moment of destiny. Then Klane turned Lyr's head to the north. He had decided to see the Great Burning for himself.