Artifacts Of Power - Dhiammara Part 13

"He decided to do what?" Aurian gasped. "But that's insane !"

"Vannor would never do that-he's got too much sense," Forral protested.

"Oh, but he did-believe me." Grince waited until the ensuing uproar had died down; then, in a grim voice, he described how, some ten months ago, a large force made up partly from the Garrison and partly from Nexian conscripts had gone north to attack the new city the Phaerie had built. Parric had denounced the whole affair as pure insanity and refused, at first, to waste the lives of his troops. Eventually, however, in the face of Vannor's determination, he had been persuaded to lead the Nexian forces-not a single one of whom had returned. It was a.s.sumed that he, too, had died there. The Phaerie, however, came back to Nexis with a vengeance, indulging in a frenzy of destruction and causing almost as much devastation as the earthquake that had happened some months before.

"It was a bad time," Grince told the horrified Mage. "A lot of folk were killed, a great many more were stolen away. The Phaerie took Lord Vannor, too-s.n.a.t.c.hed him right out of his house. I would have said good riddance, but then that evil b.a.s.t.a.r.d Lord Pendral took over in his stead!" His voice turned low and hard, and his face contorted with hatred. "Pendral keeps a tight grip on the city now. He has to-folk would see him not only deposed but dead besides, given half a chance."

The Mage was utterly devastated by his words. This is my fault, she thought. It was my failure to master the Sword that unleashed the b.l.o.o.d.y Phaerie in the first place.

"Nonsense!" Shia snorted. "Did you compel that stupid human to make war on the Phaerie? Did you force them to attack the city?"

"You have a point," Aurian told her. "Nonetheless, I'm not entirely blameless." She clenched her fists. Maybe Parric was captured, she thought. He's a tough old b.u.g.g.e.r-I refuse to believe he could be dead. Not without some proof. "Listen, Grince," she added aloud, directing her query toward the thief. "Where exactly is this Phaerie city?"

The thief shrugged. "How in perdition should I know? I've never been out of Nexis in my life."

Forral, who had been very quiet until Grince had mentioned Vannor's attack on the Phaerie, nudged the Mage. "Isn't there anyone left in this benighted city that we know and trust? Preferably someone with a small amount of intelligence at least."

Aurian closed her eyes and thought hard, trying to remember the faces of former friends and companions. So many were dead now, or vanished. Some must even be growing quite old. "I've got it!" she all but shouted. "Grince, have you ever heard of an old soldier called Hargorn? I'd guess he must liave retired from active service now."

196M aggie F u r ey Grince's face split in a grin. "Has he ever!" he said. "You'll never guess wha-"

"Danger!" Shia and Khanu roared the warning almost simultaneously. "Enemies attackl"

Then the air was filled with a fierce, deep-throated baying, and two ma.s.sive hounds burst into the chamber, followed by a horde of men with swords.

At the first hint of a threat, Forral's old instincts took over. As his sword left its scabbard, he was faintly surprised to hear the sound of Aurian clearing steel, so quickly that the ring of the two blades being drawn might have come from a single sword. Beyond them, there was a flare of light as Finbarr ignited a searing fireball and held it at the ready. Grince scrambled away behind the Mages and was cowering in the farthest corner of the alcove, a pathetically inadequate knife in one clenched fist, his face contorted with terror. "Don't let them get me," he whimpered. "Lady, I beg you-Pendral will cut off my hands."

Forral felt faintly stung that the thief had turned to Aurian for succor, rather than himself. Who was supposed to be the warrior here, anyway?

"They won't get you, Grince," Aurian rea.s.sured him. "We won't let them."

The guards, expecting to find only one small, fairly defenseless thief, took one look at what appeared to be three armed and angry Mages, and stopped dead-unlike the hounds, who, with their quarry in sight, kept right on charging!

Shia launched herself at the foremost hound, knocking it off its feet with the force of her spring. The two ma.s.sive creatures rolled right across the chamber, toppling bookcases and scattering volumes in a snarl of claws and fangs and flying fur; then Shia had the dog cornered, darting from side to side to contain the clamoring creature as it tried repeatedly to charge its way past her and make its escape. The other hound, finding itself face-to-face with the snarling Khanu, turned tail and fled, bowling two guards over in the process, and dragging its handler behind it for several yards before the man could manage to get his hand unwrapped from the leash.

The leader of the guards stepped forward, pale and apprehensive. Incredibly, Forral actually recognized him as Rasvald, who had come to the Garrison as a raw green recruit-and had later been thrown out again because, as Parric had so suc- V h i m m a r 3 197.

cinctly put it, "that one will never make a soldier as long as he's got a hole in his a.r.s.e." Clearly, Rasvald had finally found a way to prove the Cavalrymaster wrong.

"S-Sirs and Lady," stammered the quaking commander, "I apologize for trespa.s.sing, but our orders come from Pendral himself, High Lord of the City of Nexis."

Forral was impressed by the way in which the fellow had managed to apologize while putting the blame on someone else at the same time-and then he remembered that Parric had also referred to Rasvald as "that two-faced weaselly little b.a.s.t.a.r.d."

The two-faced weaselly little b.a.s.t.a.r.d was still speaking. "Your Honors probably weren't aware that you'd caught a crirninal nosing around in your-er-home, but you don't need to trouble yourselves, we'll take care of him. Believe me, once Lord Penolral has finished with the little vermin, he won't be in any condition to steal again. ..." Catching Aurian*s expression, which had turned at his last words from frosty to positively glacial, Rasvald faltered for a moment, then rallied again. "I beg you, Lady, don't be angry with us. We're only following orders- doing our job, as you might say. We'll leave here and never come back, I swear it. All we want is the thief ..."

"Well, you're not having him," said Aurian, very clearly and distinctly, "so I suggest you take your men out of here, before somebody gets hurt."

"Lady, please-I don't think you understand," the commander protested. "If I go back without the thief, Lord Pendral will kill me."

Aurian didn't even blink. "Him or me," she said evenly. Take your pick."

Rasvald, not the tallest of men, looked up into the face of the Magewoman. Her stony expression was bleak and forbidding, and there was death in the unyielding flint of her cold grey stare. All at once, the prospect of Lord Pendral s wrath seemed far less terrifying than it had been a short time ago. Besides, someone must survive to bring back the news that the Mage-folk had returned to Nexis. He only hoped the High Lord would be sufficiently grateful for the warning to spare his Commander's life.

"Lady, please forgive me," he found himself saying, almost before he was aware of his own decision. "I must have made a mistake. I see now that your friend couldn't possibly be the 198M 3gg/e Furey man we're looking for. By your leave, I'll take my troops back up above now, so we can get on with searching the city." From behind him, he was positive he heard a collective sigh of relief from his men.

"Why, of course, Commander-by all means. We won't detain you."

Rasvald shivered. Somehow, the Magewoman's haughty gra-ciousness was even more unnerving than her outright hostility. Afraid to say more, lest he dig himself deeper into trouble, he sketched a bow and ushered his men from the chamber-not, however, without one last, venomous glance for the thief, who paused in the act of putting his knife away to make an obscene gesture at Pendral's soldiers behind the Mages' back.

I'll get you, you c.o.c.ky little b.a.s.t.a.r.d-one way or another, Rasvald thought. You can't hide behind your Magefolk friends forever. It's not over yet.

Shia stepped back to permit the kennelman to leash his savage hound, and the invaders crowded their way out of the chamber with indecorous haste. The Mage was glad to see them go without any further trouble-but her relief was short-lived.

"Aurian!" Forral hissed at her. "What the blazes are you playing at? You can't let them get away to tell Pendral there are Mages loose in Nexis."

He was right, the Mage realized. She bit back a curse, possible solutions cascading with lightning speed through her mind as she struggled with her conscience.

A dozen soldiers, two great hounds, and their handlers would be too large a number to guarantee the success of a full-out attack. With Forral beside her and the great cats in support, Aurian had little doubt about the outcome, but she knew it could not be accomplished without risk. The possibility of serious injury or even death for herself or some of her companions was high-and in the end, there was no guarantee that some of the enemy might not escape into the catacombs after all.

The Mage knew she could unleash the Death-Wraith that occupied Finbarr on the soldiers-but she shrank from that dreadful option. It would also be impossible to take the men out of time-she could not ensorcell all of them at once, and before she had frozen more than a handful of their number, the rest would be turning on her. Also, there was still the pos- Dh i a. m m a. r a.

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sibility of losing one or more of them-and not a single one must escape.

Only one option remained-evil, dark, and dreadful. She knew there would be a price to pay-but what else could she do? / have no choice, Aurian thought desperately. And she would have to act fast-there was no time for discussion, or pondering the repercussions of her deed. Taking the Staff of Earth from her belt, she grasped it tightly in both hands, invoking its powers as she had done so many times before. Her mind went forth into the labyrinth, seeking the retreating soldiers among the twisting, intersecting tunnels. When she found them, the Mage set her will against the rock of the ceiling above them, and found a fault line where the planes of the rock had sheared and slipped a little. Sliding the tendrils of her power into the tiny crevice, she struck at the weakspot with all the power of the Staff.

Forral heard the distant rumble, and then felt the slight vibration as the earth trembled beneath his feet. "What the . . . ?" Then Aurian crumpled to the ground beside him, and as he caught a glimpse of her stricken expression, he knew at once what she had done.

Horror claimed him-horror and utter disbelief. He had been advising pursuit of the enemy-with the cats, surely he and the Mage could have finished them off. Truth to tell, he had been spoiling for a fight, and glad of the excuse . . . but he had never imagined that Aurian would deal with the problem in this appalling manner. Why, she would never do that- not his Aurian. She would no more be capable of using magic to murder a dozen men in cold blood, than . . . But she had done it. All those men, plain soldiers like himself who had only been following orders, lay dead and buried under tons of rock. Killed, not in a fair fight, but from afar, by foul magic.

Aurian was huddled on the floor, her hands over her face as though to hide from her own ghastly handiwork, her breath coming in harsh, racking sobs that were more like retching than weeping. Forral looked down on her, his feelings a roiling mix of revulsion and icy rage, unable to believe or accept the change in the young girl he had known and loved.

"d.a.m.n you," he said softly. "d.a.m.n you." Then he turned on his heel and walked away from her.

Vhia.mm3.ra.

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Chapter 14.

Master of the Unicorn /xfter a sleepless night, Jarvas, now seriously worried, left Benziorn in charge of his sanctuary on the quayside and went out into the city to search for Grince. The thief had not returned last night, and Jarvas feared the worst. He alone had known what Grince had been planning-and he blamed himself for having failed to dissuade the lad from such insanity. He should have knocked him out or locked him up-even if Grince had never forgiven him for the lost opportunity, it would have been better than letting the idiot suffer the consequences of trying to steal from Lord Pendral.

Jarvas had felt responsible for Grince ever since he had caught him-a wild, scruffy fourteen-year-old ruffian in those days-trying to rob the sanctuary one night. Lord Vannor, before he had vanished on that insane expedition to attack the Phaerie, had brought prosperity back to the city, resulting in the reopening of the Grand Arcade, and because the newly staffed Garrison had been so successful in controlling the city's petty crime in those days, the boy had lost his home and his livelihood, and fallen on hard times. He had -been raiding Jarvas's refuge not for himself, but in a desperate attempt to get food for his dog.

Until he saw Warrior, and recognized the animal as one of the distinctive offspring of Emmie's dog, Storm, Jarvas had not realized that his burglar was Tilda's son. He and Benziorn had been certain that the boy had perished in the initial destruction of the refuge, and he was aghast to discover that Grince had been living as a criminal in the city ever since. For the last half-dozen years or so, Jarvas had tried to take a father's place for the young orphan, but since the lad had never had anyone to depend upon, even when Tilda was alive, he remained as wary and untrusting as a wild animal, refusing to respond either to authority or kindness. Emmie might have been able to win him over, but she had remained with the smugglers and married Yanis, the Nightrunner leader, taking over most of the domestic running of the secret underground complex from an increasingly frail Remana. She was happy, he heard, but had not been back to Nexis in years. Jarvas had never told her that the lad had turned up again-she had enough on her plate these days, and had probably forgotten all about him in any case.

As the years pa.s.sed, Grince had refused to mend his ways and settle down to learn a trade, as Jarvas had suggested. Nothing had cured him of his habit of stealing-neither cajolery nor punishment. When Jarvas, out of pure desperation, had eventually tried taking a stick to him, Grince had simply started disappearing for weeks at a time, only coming back when he had some pressing need-usually for Warrior's sake rather than his own-that only Jarvas and his refuge could supply. At heart, he was not a bad lad-had he been sunk in villainy or vice, it would have been easy for Jarvas to wash his hands of the entire problem. But surprisingly, given his background, there wasn't a vicious bone in Grince's body. Thievery was simply a way of life to him-and sadly, he was proud of his skill and the independence it gave him. : Though Jarvas had been determined to shoulder the a.ddi-tional burden of responsibility for the difficult boy, it was Grince's intense hatred of authority that caused him die deepest concern. The makeshift home in the Grand Arcade had 2 O 2Ma. gg i e F u r e y represented the only security the lad had ever known, and he blamed the High Lord for its loss. When Lord Pendral had taken power following Vannor's disappearance, he had inst.i.tuted severe penalties for stealing which put Grince into constant peril. Jarvas sighed. The thief was taking risks that increased with time-and in a city the size of Nexis, it had been inevitable that he would eventually be caught.

That was not the worst of it, however. Something had happened last year to fan Grince's hatred into a deadly blaze. Pendral's troops had killed the white dog, Warrior. A patrol had recognized the thief and given chase, and Warrior, ten years old now, had not been able to run fast enough to escape. Before Grince could rush back to help, a soldier, enraged at the escape of his true prey, had put an arrow through the fleeing dog.. ..... _ .... . .

For a time Jarvas had despaired of Grince's life. He had been stunned by grief, unwilling to talk, refusing to eat, unable to sleep. Warrior had been everything to him-family, companion, protector, and friend. For days he had remained in his little cubicle in the refuge dormitory, sitting on the bed and staring at the thin part.i.tion with unseeing eyes. Jarvas, watching him with increasing concern, never saw him weep. About eight days after Warrior's death, the boy vanished into the night. A worried Jarvas was organizing searchers when Grince returned with the dawn, a boy no longer. There was blood on his hands and a bleak, cold, adult look in his eyes that had not been there before. Nonetheless, he had thrown himself into Jarvas's arms and sobbed like a brokenhearted child. He would never talk about where he had been, but no one was surprised when the reports came in of a soldier who'd been found in a lonely alley with his throat cut.

From that day onward, Jarvas saw a change in Grince's Cersonality. Though he was still the same amiable, rather shy td to his cronies at the refuge, he smiled rarely, and never laughed at all. He became more furtive and secretive in his doings. His stealing, which he had once treated in the light-hearted spirit of a game, suddenly turned into a deadly serious business. Grince was playing for higher stakes now-whereas previously he had contented himself with food and clothing, and small amounts of money to buy his needs, he" was now stealing gold and jewels, and raiding the cashboxes of the fat, wealthy merchants to spirit away a month's profit at a time. At first, Jarvas had decided that he must be ama.s.sing a h.o.a.rd, Vhismmara203 to buy himself-what? Companionship? Security? Escape from the rootless life of poverty that was his lot? Now, though, it had become clear that Grince had extended the scope of his operations for another purpose. He had been rehearsing last night's job. Pendral had deprived the thief of what he loved best in the world, and ever since that day, Grince had been planning his revenge on the High Lord of Nexis.

A shiver ran through Jarvas's bony frame. Poor Grince! He might have his faults, it was true, and he had certainly been in the wrong to steal those jewels, but the danger into which he'd put himself made the big man's heart quail. Petty criminals might be flogged, or set to work for a number of days or months with the gangs of laborers who were gradually rebuilding the damaged areas of the city. For such a serious crime as stealing from Lord Pendral, however, there could be only one penalty. Tomorrow, if he had been arrested, they would cut off Grince's hands.

By the time he finally reached the top of the Long Stairs, the muscles in Jarvas's calves were beginning to knot in cramp, and his face was running with sweat. He was badly out of breath, but there was no time to stop and recover. With every pa.s.sing minute he had grown increasingly certain that Grince had been caught. Each morning, the names of the miscreants who had been arrested the previous day were posted on the gates of the Garrison, and though he dreaded the tidings he was about to receive, it was better to know at once-though his knowing would make little difference to the thief, who would be doomed in any case. Jarvas sighed and braced himself. Turning right, he left the steps and made his way toward the Garrison as fast as his aching legs would carry him.

The postings went up at dawn, with those who'd been arrested the previous day listed in order of the severity of their crimes-and with the consequent penalties they would suffer. A small knot of people were already cl.u.s.tered in front of the great, arched Garrison gates. Some wept silently, while others cursed and shouted abuse, from a safe distance, at the two stone-faced sentries who stood there on guard duty. Now that he was finally here, Jarvas felt an uneasy reluctance to go any further. Cursing himself for a coward, he gritted his teeth and began to shoulder his way through the crowd, toward the ominous square of white that was pinned to the heavy timbers.

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There were not many names that day-a number of floggings and one execution, for tomorrow's dawn. Jarvas sagged with relief and felt his weary knees begin to buckle. Groping like a blind man, he pushed his way back out of the crowd. Suddenly feeling as though a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders, he stumbled down the street toward the Invisible Unicorn. Had his legs been working properly, he felt as though he might have danced.

When Jarvas arrived at the tavern, once so rough, rundown, and grimy, he was impressed, as always, by its current look of cleanliness and prosperity, with its sparkling windows, gleaming paintwork, and new shutters. The taproom, once so rough and dingy, was a haven of cleanliness and comfort, and a gleaming new wooden counter that stretched across the far side of the room. Behind the counter, in the host's position and radiating contentment and prosperity, stood Hargorn.

The taproom was already beginning to fill with die regular, early-morning customers who came for breakfast-mostly traders and laborers from the city, and the occasional Garrison soldier just off the night watch. Nowadays, the Unicorn had become one of the most popular inns in the city. Despite his advancing years, Hargorn maintained a reputation as a man who could take care of both himself and his premises. After the vanishment of the Magefolk, the veteran had decided to retire from military life, and had taken on the tavern in partnership with-of all unlikely people-Vannor's old cook Hebba.

When Lord Vannor had returned to the city following the disappearance of the Mages, his cook had come with him- but not to stay. She had hatched a plan with Hargorn when the veteran had forsworn the sword, and with generous a.s.sistance from Vannor they had purchased the Unicorn. In its finer days it had been the favorite haunt of the troopers- Hargorn in particular-but following the depredations and shortages of Miathan's rule the tavern near the Garrison had become badly run-down. In the hands of its-new owners, however, the business had soon begun to flourish once more.

Hargorn and Hebba made an odd combination-particularly to those who knew the couple well. How would the practical, laconic, imperturbable soldier ever manage to put up with the vapors, panics, and incessant chatter of the rotund little cook? How could such a fussy, house-proud woman ever stand for his rough soldier's ways, learned during a life- time spent in barracks and camps? But though it was only a business partnership it had gone from strength to strength.

Word soon got around the citizens of Nexis that they would find the warmest of welcomes at the Unicorn. Hargorn ,had been a well-respected and popular soldier at the Garrison. He was easy to get along with-and one way and another he had been specializing in ale for most of his life. He was qualified in every respect to be the host of an alehouse-right down to his ability to deal with any trouble that might arise.

Hebba had turned the tavern's interior into a haven of homely comfort, with sparkling bra.s.s lamps replacing the dim rushlights of former days, and the scarred old tables polished each day to a blinding sheen. Not only that, but she believed In mothering her customers-which included feeding them. The meals that she served had become a legend throughout the city.

Hargom had been a good friend to Jarvas over these last difficult years, and, in addition, his tavern was also a trading post of gossip and rumor, information and innuendo. If there had been any word of Grince at all, Jarvas knew he would find it here. Just as he was approaching the counter, however, Hebba came bolting out of the back room, in even more of a flutter than usual-and pale as if she'd seen a ghost. Grabbing Hargorn's arm in a viselike grip, she reached up on tiptoe and whispered something in his ear.

Jarvas saw his friend's expression alter from the usual look of long-suffering patience with which he greeted Hebba's fussing. Hargorn blanched, and went absolutely rigid, swaying alarmingly on his feet as though he had received a blow. For a dreadful moment, Jarvas thought the older man was about to have some kind of seizure; then Hargorn seemed to collect himself all of a sudden. His face split into the biggest grin that Jarvas had ever seen and he grabbed hold of Hebba, lifting her right off her feet and dancing her round in the confined s.p.a.ce behind the bar, oblivious of her shrill protests and squeaks of alarm. The room rang with cheers, jeers, and catcalls as customers began to whistle and applaud. Hargorn, beaming all over his face, looked up and noticed his audience at last. "What are you lot all staring at?" he demanded belligerently, and there was a sudden clatter of knife on plate as the regulars turned back to their food with great industry and .interest.The Unicorn was such a pleasant, homely place that no one wanted to get on the bad side of the landlord.

206M a. g g i e Fur e y As Hargorn called a young woman who was wiping tables in a corner to come and take his place, Jarvas remembered why he had come here, and realized that he was about to lose his chance of speaking to the landlord. "Ho, Hargorn. Wait!" he shouted, rushing up to the counter. Hargom, already vanishing into the back room, still with his arm around Hebba, half-turned with an impatient sigh. "Not now, Jarvas. Can't you see I'm busy?"

"But..."

"Not now, I said. Whatever it is, it'll have to wait. Look, get Sallana to give you a drink, and Hebba will fetch you some breakfast. I'll be back in a little while, I promise."

"Plague take it, will you just listen for a minute. Grince has stolen Lord Pendral's jewel collection and the guards are combing the city for him right now!"

Though the veteran's grin faded a little, he looked completely unsurprised. "Well, Jarvas, the way the daft beggar was acting, it was inevitable that something like this would happen sooner or later."

"Curse you-is that all you can say? It was bound to happen sooner or later?" Jarvas demanded angrily.

The grin returned to Hargorn's face. "What I can say and what I can do are two different things. Stop scowling like that, man-your face is ugly enough without making it worse. Keep your mouth shut and come with me."

Hargorn ushered Jarvas down a short corridor and into a cozy sitting room with comfortable, padded chairs and a bright fire crackling in the hearth. As Jarvas entered the room a tall figure pushed him aside, almost knocking him off his feet, and hurtled past him through the doorway to envelop the landlord in an enormous hug. He was even more surprised when Hargorn, who never stood for any trouble in his tavern, did not throw his a.s.sailant off the premises. Then he noticed that the tall figure was a woman in warrior's garb. And Hargorn- not usually known to his customers as an emotional, man- was hugging her and laughing and crying all at once.

"G.o.ds, la.s.s, but you're a sight for sore eyes-I never thought I'd live to see this day! And Anvar too! You know, I had a wager of fifty silver pieces with Parric that you'd come back to us!" As he mentioned the Cavalrymaster, the joy in Hargorn's face dimmed for a moment, and Aurian had not missed the way he had raked the room with his eyes on entering-in the 2 m m a. r a.

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:hope, she suspected, of seeing Maya. But now Hargom was pulling her toward the fire, without, as yet, giving her a chance to speak. "You look terrible, Aurian-terrible weary, I mean. Here-come and sit down, lovey. Rest before I start on you with all my questions. Let me get you some beer."

Aurian didn't protest as Hargorn led her to one of the deep chairs by the hearth. She stretched out her legs before the blaze, and closed her eyes. When her old friend thrust a deep, br.i.m.m.i.n.g tankard of ale into her hands, she felt as though she had just sailed through a hurricane and battled her way to a peaceful sh.o.r.e at last.

It was thanks to Grince that they had managed to get here at all. With Finbarr still confused and disoriented, and both the Mage and Forral suffering in their different ways from Aurian's attack on the soldiers, the thief had taken charge. He had brought them out of the Academy and into the city, using the sewers as far as they were pa.s.sable, and then using one of his own secret routes via little-used ginnels and byways, taking occasional shortcuts through backyards and derelict houses. Shia and Khanu had accompanied their human friends by a tortuous but less conspicuous route over rooftops and along the tops of walls. After the precipitous slopes of Steelclaw, they found human structures little challenge to their climbing prowess. Without drawing attention to themselves, the companions had approached the Unicorn through the alleyway at the rear, and entered at the back door, practically terrifying Hebba out of her wits.

Aurian took a deep swig of Hargorn's excellent ale. On the other side of the room she could hear Grince greeting the *. ugly man who had come in search of him, and Forral trying to convince his old friend that despite appearances, he was truly not Anvar. The Mage was content to leave them to it and s.n.a.t.c.h a few blessed moments of peace, for she was weary indeed, and racked by guilt over her use of magic to slay Pendral's soldiers. The act of violence had contravened everything she had been brought up to believe-and worse, it was the action of a Miathan or an Eliseth, but not herself. Yet this was not the first time she had used her magic to kill a helpless Mortal-well she remembered her voyage to the South, and her slaying of the men who had tried to slaughter the Leviathan. Yet it could not be helped, either this time or the last.

Aurian knew, however, that there would be a penalty to pay. A p.r.i.c.kle of unease ran through her. Last time, on the 208.

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ship, she had given her position away to Miathan and he had sent his storm with devastating effect. What would happen this time, she didn't dare imagine. She could only wait and worry-and pray that those she loved would not be the ones to suffer for her deed.

Out of the whole sorry business, it was Portal's att.i.tude that caused Aurian most distress. You'd think that as a soldier he, of all people, would have understood the necessity, the Mage thought bitterly. What gives him the right to judge?

"He has never seen you wield such power." The voice that entered Aurian's thoughts belonged to Shia. "You tended to keep your magic apart from your life with him-except once. . . ." The cat sounded puzzled. "He's remembering something about you and rain-and for some reason he was angry with you then, too. But he is angry with himself more than with you, because while he knows in his heart that you did what you must, your power makes him afraid." The cat laid back her ears in disgust. "Humans! If I live to be older than Hreeza I'll never understand them."

"Just a minute," Aurian looked at the great cat. "Shia, how do you know all this?"

Shia would not meet her eyes. "How do you think?" she said at last. "That man has stolen Anvar's body-the physical form of a Mage. It still possesses Anvar's powers-including the means to communicate with me. The fool has no idea of his new abilities, though-he doesn't know how to shield his thoughts. I'm surprised you haven't heard them yourself... ."

"What?" Aurian interrupted. "You've been eavesdropping?"

"Yes I have, and I don't intend to stop, either," said Shia unrepentantly. "I don't trust him, Aurian-you might, but / do not."

The Mage looked deep into the golden eyes of her friend, and knew it would be pointless to argue. Besides, who could say that Shia was not right?

"Aurian, where is Maya?" Hargorn's voice interrupted her train of thought.

She looked across the room at the old warrior's anxious face. "She came through the transition safe and well, but then the Phaerie took her and D'arvan-shortly after we returned to the world." Aurian knew there was no point in hiding, or even trying to soften the truth.

Hargorn swallowed hard. "I'm going after her," he said flatly. "First Panic and Vannor, and now Maya-I'm going to 7?1 find the lair of those Phaerie vermin if it's the last thing I do. ;*;* Even if I fail, at least I'll still be with my friends."

The Mage laid a hand on his arm. "There'll be time for - that," she said softly. "The Lord of the Phaerie won't harm D'arvan, and he'll make sure that Maya is safe. If they don't .,;. come back soon, I'll be heading up there myself." She scowled. "I have a thing or two to say to the Forest Lord."

Even as Aurian spoke to Hargom, she saw Hebba beckoning to her from the doorway. Though the woman's sitting room was stuffed to capacity, Hebba herself had taken one horrified look at Shia and Khanu, and fled with a shriek into ' the sanctuary of her kitchen. Aurian, who had been close i.; friends with Shia for so long that she intended to forget that V .first impressions of the cat could be terrifying, had been hop-ing that the woman would make herself useful while she was '*; there by cooking some food and heating water for baths. Now * she discovered mat the kindly woman had been busy making ; tier wishes come true.