Artifacts Of Power - Dhiammara Part 11

The voice gave a deep, eerie chuckle that echoed hollowly throughout the chamber. The sound stirred uneasy memories that lurked just out of the Mage's reach. "Surely you remember what I am, O Mage. The Nihilim remember you."

Aurian gasped in horror and took an involuntary step backward. It felt as though ice were sheeting across her skin. Behind her, Forral gave a cry of horror, and she heard the rasp of steel as his sword left his sheath.

7 66M aggie F u r ey "Don't let it see you're afraid!" The sharp warning from Shia halted the Mage's retreat.

"You're right," Aurian replied grimly. "These foul monsters killed Forral." She raised the Staff of Earth and the air was torn by a deafening thunderclap. Suddenly the chamber was limned in an explosion of sizzling emerald light. "I recognize you, creature," she snarled. "And I can send you back to the oblivion you deserve."

"Wait. Please. Do not." Though the words contained no trace of emotion, they were spoken rapidly enough to convey great urgency. "The Nihilim can help you, Mage-if you will allow it."

"What?" Aurian felt as though a thunderbolt had struck her. Of all the uncanny events that had befallen her on her return to the Academy, surely this must be the most bizarre. "You want to help me?" She didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

"Aurian, no. Don't trust this-this thing." Forral was at her side, his voice low and urgent. She saw that his hands- Anvar's hands-were shaking, and despite the dank chill of the chamber, his skin was slick with the sweat of profound fear. Her heart went out to him. Poor Forral. The Nihilim were the only things the swordsman truly feared-and the hideous creatures had killed him. Aurian understood-she had been there when he died, and the Death-Wraiths filled her with a similar terror and revulsion. Nonetheless, if these monstrosities could give her some kind of advantage over Eliseth, then she could not afford to give in to her fear and dismiss them out ofhand.

With an apologetic glance at Forral, the Mage turned back to the hideous creature that wore the guise of her old friend. 'Very well. I'll hear you out-but be aware that this time, you are alone. If you make a move against me or my companions, it will be the last move you make."

"I understand."

"Good." Aurian took a deep breath. "Well, Wraith? What is it you want of me? I know better than to believe that you're offering me your a.s.sistance for nothing."

The inhuman blue eyes glittered with a fiery light. "You are right-it was my need that called out to you, even through the confinement or the time spell. Even such magic cannot silence an anguished soul. You must help my people, Mage. Only you can set them free."

Aurian felt her jaw drop. At her side, she heard Forral gasp. "What?" he shouted. "You must be madl Let the Nihilim loose upon the world? What sort of b.l.o.o.d.y idiot do you think she is?"

"Shut up, Forral," Aurian muttered. She turned back to the Wraith. "What sort of b.l.o.o.d.y idiot do you think I am?"

"Patience, Mage. Permit me to explain. 1 do not wish you to release us into this world-we do not belong here. I want you to help us return to our own home."

"Your home?" Aurian's eyes widened. She forgot to fear the creature as, once again, the Magefolk curiosity stirred and awakened within her. "And where is your home?" she asked softly.

Finbarr's glittering blue eyes took on an avid gleam, and for the first time, the Mage heard a swell of emotion in the Death-Wraith's voice. "We were not always as you see us now," it told her. "Once, we lived Between the Worlds in beauty and in grace. We were Death's radiant angels-his servants who flew forth into the world to end the pain and suffering of living creatures. We would come to the old, the sick, the wretched and the weary, and bear them gently home so that they could enter the Well of Souls once again and begin a bright new life."

The Wraith sighed, and its voice darkened once more. "All this we were and more-Keepers of the Balance, Guardians of the Door-until the accursed Magefolk intervened, creating the Artifacts of Power and meddling where they had no right. In the Wars of the Cataclysm, Chiannala enslaved us to the Caldron, to turn us from givers of mercy into a deadly weapon. And so we have remained down the long, weary ages: hideous and twisted, our powers maimed and unbalanced. Without us, death has become a fearful thing for Mortal creatures." Once again the inhuman eyes fixed on Aurian. "Help us, Mage-I beg you. This chance may never come again. Undo die evil committed by your ancestors and release us. Break the slavery of the Caldron, and set us free."

"And you will help me recover the grail that was once the Caldron?" Aurian asked softly.

"We will. For our own sakes, we must."

"And what about Finbarr? If I help you, can you return him to me?"

The Wraith sighed. "That I do not know. We had no means of communicating with you humans without using a human form ourselves. I entered this body at the moment of the owner's death-but your enemy took me out of time before I could act. Finbarr's spirit did not have time to pa.s.s Beyond, 168Maggie furey but I fear that when I quit this sh.e.l.l, it will be forced to do so. If you wish to prevent his death from becoming complete, your only hope is to capture the Caldron and put it to the use for which it was intended."

"And what about my death?" Forral broke in angrily. "You had no compunction about finishing me."

The creature's cold gaze fell upon the swordsman. "I told you-the Nihilim were not responsible. It was not your time to die, but we are enslaved by the Caldron. We are compelled to do as its wielder commands."

Forral scowled, brushing aside Aurian's attempts to hush him. "Well, that makes you very unsafe allies, doesn't it? Eliseth has only to command you to turn on Aurian, and we're finished. Do you really expect the la.s.s to take that kind of risk?"

Aurian glared at him. "Do you mini/? He's right, though," she told the creature. "For a moment, I thought you'd be our secret weapon to defeat Eliseth, for what can withstand the Nihilim? But while she holds the grail, you're a weapon that can turn in our hands." She held out empty hands to convey her helplessness. "What can I do? I daren't take the risk. If I gain control of what remains of the Caldron, I give you my word I'll use it to release you, but sadly, it seems I must manage without your help."

"Wait," the creature said. "Think. The risk is small, for the wielder of the Caldron must return here to undo the time spell. Until then, he-"

"She," Aurian interrupted. "Ownership of the grail has changed since you were first released-and the current wielder is even more to be feared than the last."

"She, then," the Wraith replied. "What does it matter? The ident.i.ty of our slavemaster makes little difference to the Nihilim. She cannot make use of us until she returns to remove the time spell-and until she returns, how can she know we are at large once more?"

"If you help me attack her, she'll know all right-and I daren't take a chance on her finding out." The Mage thought hard for a moment. "Look-you said that Finbarr's spirit hasn't departed yet-is there any way I can talk to him?"

"You are aware that my power is all that binds him to this world? You understand that if I permit him to speak to you, I cannot cede control of this form to him, or we are both lost?"

"I understand," the Mage replied. "Still, I think we may Vhiammara 1 69.

need his wisdom. It seems to me that you must depend on one another-for the time being at least."

"Very well. I believe that we can share this form, at least."

Even as Aurian watched, the monster's features altered- that arcane, unearthly glitter disappeared from Finbarr's eyes. His face took on animation and life, and he looked like himself again. He jerked into motion as though suddenly awaking from a dream and looked around wildly, his hands crackling with the blue energy of the time spell and the shadow of horror still in his eyes.

"Finbarr," Aurian cried urgently. "It's all right. They've gone!"

Without warning, the tall, gawky figure tottered from the alcove. He flung his arms around the Mage. "Aurian! My dear! You're safe. And Anvar! Thanks be to the G.o.ds." Finbarr peered around him, rubbing his eyes, his brows drawing down in a puzzled frown. "But where are we? These aren't Miathan's chambers. These are my archives, surely. How did we come to be here? And where are the Nihilim? Did we get them all? Where is poor Forral . . ." His voice hardened. "And that thrice-cursed renegade Miathan?"

Aurian realized, to her horror, that the archivist could have no idea that Meiriel was dead. And how could she tell him of his soulmate's insanity, and her murderous attempt on the Mage's life, and that of Wolf? At this reminder of her son, the thread of her deliberations was broken by a pang of longing. If only I could see him, she thought-just to know he's safe. What does he look like now? Does he remember me? Regretfully, she wrenched her thought back to the business in hand. She had enough to worry about right now. Finbarr would have to know the truth.

The Mage sighed. "Finbarr, you were taken out of time by your own spell. A very great deal has happened since that battle with the Wraiths-and a good deal of it is bad news, I'm afraid. If I help you, will you be able to take the information directly from my mind? It'll take hours, otherwise."

Even using such a direct method, it took some time to bring the archivist up to the present. By the time Aurian had finished, she was wringing with sweat and thoroughly exhausted. It had been hard for her to relive the past-both the good and the bad. For Finbarr, it had been even harder. The Archivist was weeping openly. "Why?" he demanded. "Why didn't you leave me in peace? Why bring me back to break my heart like this?"

/7 OMz ggie Furey Aurian took his hand. "Because we need you, Finbarr. You know more about the Nihilim than any or us-at the moment, you have a chance to know one of them intimately. Can we trust them? Dare we remove your old time spell and release them, or is the risk too great?"

The Archivist closed his eyes, his concentration so intense that Aurian could almost feel it. "You can trust them," he said at last. "What one know, all know-and they are all desperate to be free of the Caldron's chains. You are the only one who can aid them-and in return they will do anything in their power to help you. But unfortunately, until they are free of Eliseth's control, they will always remain a risk and a threat to you."

Finbarr opened his eyes. "This doesn't please the one who shares my body-but I would advise against releasing them from the spell. The risk is far too great. You must fight your own battles, Aurian-but you're used to that." He smiled wryly. "One thing I would advise, however, is that you leave the Wraith that occupies my body free to act. Let it come with you-if the worst came to the worst, you could deal with a single Wraith." His eyes twinkled. "You must decide for yourself whether I'm advising you through selfish motives here, for if the Wraith goes with you, then so do I."

"If it means having you with us, I'll do whatever it takes," Aurian a.s.sured him. She looked round at her companions. "Finbarr's advice sounds good to me."

"As long as I am here to protect you," Shia said. "I like your human friend, but I don't trust that other thing."

Then Forral intervened. "No. This is lunacy, Aurian. I won't have it-you're taking too great a risk."

He wouldn't have it? And who did he think he was, to be giving orders? Aurian glared at him stonily. Just because he was afraid . . . "No," she replied shortly, "I can't agree. I understand your doubts, but-"

"Doubts? Those things are cold-blooded killers," Forral roared. "They're evil-and no one should know that better than me." With a visible effort, he calmed himself. "Listen, love-I appreciate the advantage that this might give us, but in my opinion ..."

"In my opinion, the risk is justified." Aurian took a firm hold on her temper. Be patient, she told herself. Remember that Forral was killed by these creatures. He has more reason than any of us to fear the Nihilim.

"I see," Forral said coldly. "In my absence you've learned all there is to know about the art of war, is that it? Well, come back in another thirty years, Aurian, and tell me that-and even then it won't be true. Let me tell you, you're making a big mistake. I know your stubbornness of old, my girl-but this time, you're putting all our lives in danger."

At Aurian's side, Shia snarled softly. "Will you let this human speak to you like that?"

The Mage rested her hand lightly on the great cat's head. "Forral is still living in the past. Things have changed a good deal since he was alive, and he must learn about me as I am now. I'm afraid it won't be easy for him."

"Nor for you," Shia added softly.

Mage confronted swordsman, until the tension in the air had reached breaking point.

"I value your experience, Forral," Aurian said firmly, "but this is a matter of magic, not Mortal war. I know more about our enemy-and about the Artifacts-than anyone else. I'll take advice, but ultimately the decisions are mine to make, and that's the end of it."

"It is not the end of it!" Forral raged. "By all the G.o.ds, Aurian, I brought you up! I don't have to stand here and take this from you!"

Aurian lifted her chin and looked at him levelly. "That's true," she said quietly, "you don't. You're free to leave at any time."

Forral gaped at her. "What? And where the b.l.o.o.d.y blazes am I supposed to go? Do you really think I'm going to just go off and let you get yourself into all kinds of trouble?"

"That's up to you," Aurian told him implacably. "But if you stay, I don't want to hear any more arguments about this. You taught me yourself, long ago, that only one person at a time can be in command."

Forral was looking at her as though he had never seen her before. "So I did," he said softly. "So I did. So what do we do now, Commander? Lurk here underground until we starve and freeze?"

Aurian gritted her teeth. She was d.a.m.ned if she'd let him needle her. "We need information," she said. "We don't know how long we've been away from Nexis, let alone who rules the city now that the Magefolk have gone."

J 72Maggie furey Grince, forgotten in his corner, had watched in awe as the Mage had freed the creature in the corner. So this was the legendary Lady Aurian, who had been lost for so long? Old Har-gorn had spoken of her often, with great fondness and regret. She had been kind to him, had healed him-and the thief admired the calm way in which she'd stood up to the other Mage when he had tried to bully her. Though common sense told him that it would be a grave mistake to get mixed up in the affairs of the Magefolk, he wanted to repay her for helping him-and besides, a little magic had come into his hard and brutal life along with her. He didn't want to lose it so soon.

"Lady, I can help you," he said, before he could stop himself. "I can tell you whatever you want to know."

Chapter 12.

City of the Flying Horse rrom the air, it looked to be no more than a hill. D'arvan, hanging facedown across the horse's withers, his hands bound tightly behind him with what felt like thin strands of flexible metal, tried to turn his head and blot his watering eyes against his shoulder in order to see better. It wasn't easy. The Phaerie steeds were moving so fast through the thin, cold air that the Mage's long, flaxen hair kept blowing in his eyes, and he'd been plagued by streaming eyes and a running nose for the entire journey, which had lasted through the night and into morning. D'arvan blinked again and squinted down toward the craggy, tree-covered eminence. Surely this pinnacle of rock in the middle of nowhere couldn't be their destination?

Apparently, it could. One by one, the steeds of the Phaerie peeled off from their phalanx and began to spiral down toward the steep, forested 7 74Maggie Furey slopes of the summit. As D'arvan's captor began to descend, the Mage's eyes and mind seemed to blur for a nauseating instant- With a dizzying lurch, the scene below him snapped into its true perspective in the clear, cold northern light. The hill was far, far bigger than he had thought-and every one of those trees, though given the outward appearance of a woodland giant by Phaerie magic, was a soaring tower.

The Forest Lord and his subjects had clearly done their best to make this city a true reproduction of their magical citadel Between the Worlds. Using their powers to transform nature, they had created a beautiful, functional-and living- home which extended high into the air via the groves of tower-trees. D'arvan guessed it must also continue deep into the ground beneath the hill itself, for he could see many balconies and windows embellishing the ledges and sheer rock faces. The wooded glades were blooming gardens with bowers, streams, and fountains, and waterfalls cascaded down the hillside like drifts of pure white lace.

Behind the hill a range of towering mountains marched along the skyline. When the Mage saw streaks of snow on their peaks and the blue-shadowed walls of icy canyons he was horrified to discover how far north he had been brought. Closer to his destination, the scattered peaks dwindled into a less rugged range with lower crests. The nearest stretched long arms out toward the Phaerie city, enfolding its eminence within a broad green glen whose sides were cloaked in the darker green of forest. As the Phaerie steed continued its curving descent around the side of the hill, D'arvan could look into the valley, where a long and shimmering stretch of water lay, with cultivated farmland round its sh.o.r.es, and plentiful herds of cattle and sheep to graze the sheltered fields.

It was impossible not to be awed by the sight of this magnificent new kingdom that h.e.l.lorin had carved out of the lonely northern wilderness. While the Phaerie were exiled from the world, it had been easy to forget just how powerful, capricious, and dangerous the Forest Lord had really been. Now, as he saw the scope of his father's vast accomplishments spread out below him, D'arvan's heart beat a little faster with apprehension. They had not exactly parted friends, yet to have found him so quickly after his return through time, h.e.l.lorin must have maintained a constant vigil throughout all the years of D'arvan's absence. And now that he had captured him, what fate had the Forest Lord in store for his wayward son?

Vhizmmara 1 75.

The Phaerie steeds landed on a plateau far up on the eastern side of the hill. D'arvan was hauled down from the horse's back and surrounded by a group of h.e.l.lorin's warriors. He just had time to hear Maya cursing at the top of her voice before he was dragged away. He caught confused glimpses of trees, smooth lawns dotted with flowers, and paved and graveled paths that wound uphill amid the glades. Curious Phaerie faces, with their large, deep eyes and sharp-boned features, watched curiously as he was hurried along in the relentless grip of his guards, until at last he was pushed through a pair of large double doors that pierced the hillside, and into the gloomy corridor beyond.

"Take your b.l.o.o.d.y hands off me, you outlandish b.a.s.t.a.r.ds!" Maya snarled. Neither her protests nor her struggles were any use-her abductors simply manhandled her more cruelly. Realizing that this was the time for circ.u.mspection, not fighting, Maya let herself go limp as she was borne away. "But when I finally get my hands free to hold a sword again, h.e.l.lorin will be finding himself a few subjects short," she vowed to herself grimly.

Her captors took her in a different direction from D'arvan, away round the side of the hill, always heading downward. Maya, though she was being jarred and jounced along, noticed that the trees grew thinner as they came to the northern face. The slopes became rougher and more desolate here, with stiff bracken and spiky gorse obscuring the winding trails. Great boulders patched with yellow lichen and s.h.a.ggy green moss thrust through the thin soil like bones through the skin of a crow-picked corpse.

At the bottom of the hill on the northern side, the rock face was honeycombed with tunnels, each one closed off at its entrance by a barred iron gate and guarded by Phaerie bearing tall spears tipped with long blades that glittered with the same sharp, cold, merciless light that sparked from their eyes. Brief words in the incomprehensible Phaerie language pa.s.sed between Maya's abductors and the guards; then she was pa.s.sed like some inanimate package from one group to the other. Her new captors plunged into one of the dark openings, and Maya lost sight of the daylight as she was carried inside.

The tunnel was damp, its earthen sides and roof sh.o.r.ed up with rough planks. Straggling roots protruded like reaching 176Maggie Furey fingers through the cracks between them. The damp wooden boards were crawling with a skin of slimy mold whose greenish phosph.o.r.escence was the only light. The air was heavily tainted with the odors of wet soil and decaying leaf-matter, and cold with the bone-deep chill of the grave. The voices of the Phaerie, who had been talking softly among themselves in their own, strange, sibilant tongue, sounded flat and dead, hushed by the all-absorbing clay that surrounded them like a suffocating shroud. Maya, her body still numb with cold from the interminable journey through the thin, cold heights, her limbs held fast in the viselike grip of her Phaerie guards, felt as though the walls and roof were closing in on her. It was as though her captors were trying to bury her alive. She fought hard against the panic that was threatening to rise within her. It seemed that the best way to overcome her overwhelming sense of dismay and dread was to close her eyes and blot out her surroundings by trying to think of some way out of this impossible situation.

After a time the almost soundless whisper of soft-shod Phaerie feet on the moist earthen floor of the tunnel changed to the scuff of leather against stone, and the alien voices were sharpened by a ringing echo. At the same time the grip of her abductors shifted, her head was suddenly lower than her feet, and the jouncing became far more p.r.o.nounced than before.

Maya's eyes snapped open. The walls of the tunnel had turned from earth to rough-hewn rock, and she was. being carried headfirst down an uneven stone staircase that was lit at intervals by crystal globes that glowed with a warm, dancing, green-gold light like sunlight seen through trees. At the bottom of the staircase was a pair of tall gates with bars of twisted iron that blocked the pa.s.sage from floor to roof. These were watched by another pair of guards, one of them a Phaerie woman. Again, uncomprehended words pa.s.sed between the new captors and the old, and Maya was lowered to the ground and held upright as the female Phaerie ran expert hands over her body and limbs-just as though she were a horse at market.

The warrior, humiliated and incensed, drew back her head to spit in the woman's face-and was brought up short by the cold, pitiless iron of the alien creature's stare, which turned her blood to pure ice in her veins. The Phaerie lifted a warning hand, and Maya swallowed the mouthful of saliva hastily.

"Hie woman hit her anyway-left, right, once on either side of her face-and Maya's head exploded in pain as the touch of the Phaerie left behind a trail of freezing fire that seemed to eat like acid into the tortured bone of her skull. She was still screaming when they tore the clothes from her body and fastened a slender chain of some ice-cold metal around her neck. Then they opened the tall iron gates and thrust her through them, to fall down a short flight of half a dozen steps and roll to a standstill, naked, breathless and bruised, on the dusty cavern floor below.

"My dear-are you all right?"

Maya, her vision blurred with tears of pain, couldn't see who was speaking, but at least the voice sounded female, briskly kind-and human. "Of course I'm b.l.o.o.d.y not," she muttered thickly, for she had bitten right through her lip. Nonetheless, she groped for the hand that reached out to help her, and used it to lever herself to her knees, where she spat out a mouthful of dust and blood. Knuckling the salty moisture from her eyes, she looked up to see a tall, bony woman of middle years stooping over her, wearing nothing but a thin gold chain around her neck and a frown of concern.

Rubbing gingerly at the side of her face, that still throbbed with the ebbing remnants of that deadly, aching chill, Maya blinked up at the woman. "Who in Chathak's name are you?"

The frown went through an infinitesimal shift from concern to disapproval. "I'm Licia," the woman replied. She withdrew her proffered hand and with a brusque, embarra.s.sed gesture smoothed her silver-shot brown hair, which was sc.r.a.ped back from her face into the severest of knots. "The lacemaker from Nexis," she added, as though that explained everything.

Maya rubbed harder at her aching head, sure she was missing the significance of all this. She looked beyond the woman to see that she was in a gigantic cavern, lit by further cl.u.s.ters of the golden globes that starred the roof and walls. The ground sloped downhill from the level area at the bottom of the stairs where she knelt, and below her the warrior could see a cl.u.s.ter of small stone shelters built around the edges of a shimmering dark mere. What in the name of all the G.o.ds was this place?

Still confused, she turned back to Licia. "Well, if you're from Nexis, what in perdition are you doing here?" she demanded.

178Maggie furey "Good gracious, where have you been for the past five years?" The woman sounded shocked. "How can you possibly not know what has been happening?"

The air of the cavern was dry and comfortably warm, yet Maya shivered, wishing desperately that she had something to cover her nakedness. She felt oddly and unpleasantly vulnerable like this, and somehow that made it hard to give her whole attention to what the woman was saying. The Phaerie's blow seemed to have scattered her wits far more than an equivalent clout from a human being would have done. And deep in her heart, a small, cold core of fear was beginning to expand like a germinating seed.

She glared at the woman. "What sort of a stupid thing is that to say? Quite obviously I don't have a b.l.o.o.d.y clue what's going on...." All at once, she realized that she would gain absolutely nothing from antagonizing this woman, who, from her stony expression, didn't look as though she suffered fools gladly, either. Maya bit off her angry words. "I apologize," she sighed. "I might be sore, confused, and downright scared, but there's nq need to take it out on you." She held out her hand. "My name is Maya, and I'm a warrior. And you're right-I've been away from Nexis for several years."

Licia's stern expression softened. "You poor thing-of course you're afraid, and you're bound to be confused. These abductions didn't come easy to any of us-it's always a dreadful shock at first. You come back with me to my shelter, and I'll get you something warm to drink." She reached out with a surprisingly strong grip and helped the warrior to her feet.

"And please-could you spare me something to wear?" Maya asked her hopefully. "Any old rag ..."

"I'm afraid not." Licia shook her head regretfully. "When the work gangs go outside the Phaerie allow them clothing, but it's taken away from them again when they return. In the caverns they keep us naked. Like animals." She spat out the words as though the taste of them disgusted her. "It all helps to wear down our hope and spirit-to tame us, as the Phaerie put it."

Shock coursed through Maya, as she stopped dead in her tracks. Suddenly she understood. "You mean the Phaerie are using humans as slaves?" She remembered h.e.l.lorin, D'arvan's father, and his wry, half-amused kindness toward her. Did he know she was here? Had he ordered it? Surely he wouldn't Vhizmrnzrs.

1 79.

do this to his own son's lover? Then she remembered the long months he had condemned her to spend as that double-d.a.m.ned unicorn, unable even to communicate with the one she loved-and suddenly, she wasn't so certain. When it came down to it, she was only a mere, despised human, and h.e.l.lorin was capable of anything-anything at all. And if he would do this to her, what would he do to D'arvan, his delinquent son? A shiver of dread coursed through her.

Licia tugged at her elbow, urging her forward between the rows of rough shelters. There was not another soul in sight. "Of course they use us as slaves-those b.a.s.t.a.r.ds." The epithet, spoken with such venom, was startling, coming as it did from a woman who looked so old-maidish and prim. "What did you expect-they brought us here because they like our company?" An ugly scowl settled across the lacemaker's heavy brows. "Although they like the company of some well enough," she added bitterly. "There's many a young la.s.s has bought herself out of here by joining the enemy and mothering Phaerie offspring-for some reason the immortal blood always seems to run true." She sighed. "There are some days down here in the dark, when I would sell my soul for fresh air and a glimpse of sunlight, I can hardly blame them. Other times, I would stick a knife through their treacherous hearts as soon as blink-but there, I was too d.a.m.n old and barren to be asked, so maybe I'm only jealous."

"What do the others do-the folk down here?" Maya asked, in some trepidation.

Licia shrugged. "Some wait on the Phaerie as servants, cooking and cleaning, fetching and carrying and the like. Some folk labor at building and carving new living'quarters under the hill, and some work in the fields and barns, tending the crops and herds. After all," she added nastily, "it would be far too much to expect the great and powerful Phaerie to plough or hoe or shovel cow s.h.i.t. They wouldn't sully their skinny white hands. We others-the skilled artisans," she added proudly, "we make whatever our masters need, and our only reward is the food in our bellies and the continuing ab-sence of pain."

The woman, her head lifted high and proud, strode along with great dignity despite her nakedness, and Maya had to stretch her legs to keep up with her. As she walked, some sol-dier's instinct told her she was being watched, and gradually 180Maggie Furey she became aware of stealthy movement within the gloom of some of the stone shelters-the pale shadow of a face or hand round the edge of a doorway, the flash of an eye in a window embrasure as a head ducked quickly beneath the sill. All too soon, this furtive spying on her began to turn from irritating to unnerving. "Licia . . . ?" she asked uneasily, not wanting to betray her disquiet.