Acknowledgements: Thanks go to my beta readers Pam and Cybernana. Any errors in this work will be down to my insatiable urge to fiddle with sentences, even after they've been proof-read.

Note: A fully revised version of this story is now published by Fortitude Press

Special note from webmaster, July 2003: The revised and published version of this story has been named as a Finalist (Best Novel category) for the Gaylactic Spectrum Awards. Created in 1998 by the Gaylactic Network, these awards honor works in science fiction, fantasy and horror which include positive explorations of gay, lesbian, bisexual or transgendered characters, themes, or issues. In 2002, the Awards were handed over to a newly formed, independent organization - the Gaylactic Spectrum Awards Foundation. As you can see from their website, Jane Fletcher is rubbing shoulders with some pretty impressive names!

CONGRATULATIONS JANE!!!

Map of the Protectorate

Lorimal's Chalice Part One - The Exile by Jane Fletcher js.fletcher@btinternet.com

Chapter 1: A bad joke

Pre-dawn light filtered through chinks in the stone walls, so faint it did little more than hint at the sleeping figures scattered across the earthen floor. Tevi lay on her side, awake, staring bleakly at nothing. Her thoughts were tormented by memories of a dozen miserable events over the past month. A hard day's work loomed ahead, yet sleep eluded her. She felt utterly alone, despite being surrounded by all her family. A pained grimace crossed Tevi's face at the thought. Her family. She was an enormous disappointment to them. She knew it - how could she not be? She was an even greater disappointment to herself.

The light strengthened with the passing minutes. Then came the wailing cries of seagulls. Tevi rolled onto her back. There was no point trying to return to sleep now and, as if hearing her thought, several bodies stirred. A woman by the hearth sneezed and sat up. Whispered words rippled around the corners of the hall.

"Hey, who's taken my boots?" The first loud voice of the morning. It was Laff - it always was. The question provoked several retorts, the wittiest of which were greeted with laughter.

Tevi closed her eyes. She did not for a moment think her sister's boots were missing, it was just Laff's excuse to be noisy and claim everyone's attention. What Tevi never understood was why people were so pleased by her sister, and so irritated if she tried similar childish ploys herself.

A man stepped over Tevi's legs. She watched him head towards the central hearth, weaving between the shifting bodies. He knelt and began coaxing the fire back to life. All around, people were getting to their feet, brushing dust from their clothes, rolling up blankets and sleeping mats. Noise in the hall rose. The double doors at the end were pushed open. A sudden shaft of daylight glittered on eddies of smoke rolling under the thatched roof.

Tevi turned her head and looked towards the centre of the hall. Laff was standing by the hearth, making a show of stretching the muscles in her shoulders while teasing the men preparing breakfast and exchanging boisterous good-mornings with the women. Everyone seemed to like her. It was a trick Tevi had never been able to master. Did the differences between them mean so much?

It was not their looks. Both were tall, with brown eyes and straight black hair, hacked short. They had small oval faces, on the bland side of good looking, with thin nose and wide, straight lips. However the similarity ended with their appearance. Laff was loud and assertive, quick to argue, quick to make friends. Tevi was always unsure of herself, uncomfortable in company, uninterested in the show of swaggering bravado other women put so much effort into. 'Weak and soft' were their mother's words to describe Tevi. Maybe, if Laff had been the firstborn, it would not have mattered that she was always the one to take the lead, but, at nineteen, Tevi was the elder by two years.

Virtually everyone in the hall was now moving. Tevi sat up and looked around. She was not the last to stand; a few still slept at the edges of the hall. One couple were lying nearby with their arms around each other. The man was sprawled lazily on his back. The woman, one of Tevi's many aunts, was up on an elbow looking down on him. Tevi's movement caught the aunt's notice. For a moment Tevi was subjected to a critical stare before the aunt bent back to whisper something in her companion's ear. The man's eyes brushed over Tevi as he twisted to giggle into the aunt's shoulder. Tevi felt a flush start to rise on her cheeks. She scrambled to her feet and hastened towards the hearth, but she knew she was being over-sensitive. Judging by the noises last night the couple had plenty of topics to laugh about.

Laff now had her arm around the waist of the young man she had spent the night with. A selection of cousins were standing near, matching her in good-natured banter. Something Laff said made the man blush and raised a howl of laughter from the women. He smiled shyly at Laff, who hugged him still closer.

Despite Tevi's attempt to join the group unobtrusively, Laff noticed her arrival and yelped. "Watch out! Don't tread in the porridge!"

Tevi froze and looked down, but her feet were nowhere near the porridge pot. It was a joke. Laff sniggered.

"You fall for it every time."

Tevi looked up to meet her sister's eyes. "Yes, I know. It's sad. I get caught out because I keep expecting you to grow up. I really should accept that you'll have a toddler's sense of humour all your life."

"Oh, I'm quite grown up." Laff squeezed the young man and asked him playfully, "What do you think?"

"Everywhere except between your ears." Tevi interjected.

Laff's face twisted in a scowl, but before the argument could escalate further they were interrupted by their mother approaching the hearth. Red was tall, a trait inherited by both her daughters. Her body had once been strong and agile, but no more, not since an ill-fated skirmish, four years before. Never again would Red lead the war-band to victory. She hobbled across the hall, leaning heavily on a wooden crutch. Her naturally stern face creased in pain, but she managed to smile indulgently at Laff as she passed. If Red noticed her older daughter she gave no sign.

A slight bustle announced the emergence of Tevi's grandmother, the Queen of Storenseg, from behind her screens. Her status was marked by a wicker partition around her sleeping area. It was the nearest thing to a private room to be found on the island. Two of Tevi's cousins hovered in attendance while the Queen settled herself on a bench. Sound faded as people paused to nod respectfully in the Queen's direction before picking up their conversations again. The hubbub flowed from group to group, the friendly family chaos binding everyone in the room, from laughing grandmothers to squealing babies - everyone except Tevi.

The group around Laff had subtly closed ranks so that Tevi stood outside. Her mother and grandmother were in conversation. They glanced once in Tevi's direction, but their expressions were not warm. Nobody else in the hall seemed anxious to catch her eye. Tevi looked at the porridge heating over the fire. It would be some minutes before it was boiling, and Tevi had no wish to hang around. A nearby basket held several loaves of dark rye bread. She tore a chunk off one, dipped its corner in a bowl of honey, and then headed for the doorway.

No one looked in her direction. The whole family was happy to ignore her existence. Tevi paused at the entrance and glanced back. For an instant the Queen's eyes met hers. The ancient face held an expression of shrewd appraisal, and regret. Once her grandmother had been an ally, but it had changed. Tevi was not sure when, or why, she had lost the Queen's favour. Now, of the whole island, only Brec was ever on her side. Tevi spun on her heel and escaped outside.

The sky to the east was awash with pink. Clear dawn light hit obliquely on the surrounding hills. Seagulls overhead called raucously as they wheeled around the valley and, pitched below the sound of their squabbling, the hissing roar of surf on the beach carried cleanly on the crisp air.

Tevi rested her shoulder against the stone wall of the hall and breathed in deeply, tasting the salt on the air. The smell was comforting. Soon she would be out on the water, with the solid timbers of her boat beneath her feet. Captaining a fishing boat was the only thing she was good at, and the women in the village respected her ability even if they did not respect her.

Thinking about her boat eased the knotted tension in Tevi's stomach. She lowered her gaze from the hilltops and began eating the bread. Abrak's chapel stood in the middle of the village square. An armed woman was posted at the door. Tevi allowed herself a cynical smile at the sight. There was little point setting a guard now, after the chalice had been stolen. In Tevi's opinion there was no likelihood of the thieving raven returning. Obviously a sorcerer had wanted the chalice and had sent the bird to take it. Whoever it was had now got all that was wanted. There was nothing left in the chapel worth stealing. In truth, even the chalice had been purely symbolic. Abrak's true legacy lay in her potion, the magic brew that gave the women of the islands their strength. Without it they would be even weaker than men.

Tevi could not stop the grimace as she remembered being forced to take her daily dose of the potion, throughout her childhood. It tasted foul, but it had done its work. Her enhanced strength would stay with her for life. Typically, Laff claimed to like the taste, but Tevi was pleased she would never need to take it again. However, at that moment, it was the only thing Tevi could think of to be grateful for. Her situation was hopeless. The friends of her childhood had deserted her one by one, until only Brec remained. Now her family scorned her. It was not that anyone thought she was a bad person, just a bad joke.

The round chapel was the spiritual centre of, not just the village of Holric, but the whole island chain. It marked the spot where Abrak had been burnt, many years before. Now she stood, in spirit, at the side of Rangir, goddess of the sea - or so the myths claimed. Tevi was rather sceptical, but equally she knew she needed whatever help she could get. On impulse, her lips moved as she silently offered a small prayer; "Please Abrak, speak on my behalf to Rangir. Give me the chance to improve my reputation, so people will speak of me with respect. Show me a way to leave the scorn behind."

The space around Abrak's chapel was clear, but the edges of the square were busy with people. Clusters stood by the doorways to the halls, soaking in the new spring sunlight before they began their day's work. One group was definitely looking in Tevi's direction, although whether it was herself, or her grandmother's hall that was the topic of conversation was not obvious. Either way Tevi felt self-conscious. She was about to walk away when the character of the activity on the far side of the square changed. A few voices were raised in shouts although Tevi could not make out the words. Heads turned in the direction of pointing fingers.

Tevi stood straight and moved away from the wall just as a running woman burst from a pathway between two buildings. It took a second for Tevi to recognise the runner, Anvil, a senior member of the war-band. It took less than a second longer for the significance to dawn. Anvil was due to be on lookout duty on the Stormfast Cliffs that morning.

"Rathshorn." Tevi whispered to herself. It had to be the explanation. It was early in the year for the women of Rathshorn to come raiding, but Anvil would not be running so frantically just to bring a report on the weather.

Tevi spun back through the doorway. The family looked up, startled from their breakfast. "Anvil, from the lookout... she's coming."

Women in the hall leapt to their feet, but the Queen remained impassive, looking at the doorway. Tevi stepped aside as the drumming of running feet grew louder. Anvil charged in and skidded to a stop before the Queen, gasping for breath.

"Who is it?"

"Is it Rathshorn?"

"What's wrong?" a cacophony of questions greeted the sentry.

The Queen stood and waved her hands for silence. "Let her catch her breath." The questions stopped although the noise did not abate noticeably. Feeling strangely detached from the scene, Tevi leaned against the doorpost and surveyed the hall, taking in the fear on the faces of the old, and the excitement of the young. Laff even looked happy, as if she had received a gift. Tevi gazed at her sister with something between irritation and sorrow. Maybe not a gift, but a prize, the thought came to Tevi, just one more game for Laff to win.

Anvil had one hand pressed to her side but the heaving of her shoulders had eased enough for speech. "There's a boat. It must have come close during the night."

"Just one?" the Queen asked.

"That's all I could see. There might be more around the headland."

"Anything else?"

"They've got a green pennant on the mast." Anvil's words drew a soft sigh of relief from some corners of the hall. The green flag was a sign of parley.

"So they want to talk." the Queen said thoughtfully.

"They've got shields on display."

"They want to talk while reminding us what they back their words with." The Queen's face twisted in an ironic smile as she amended her words. "Did you recognise the shields?"

"It's Rathshorn." Anvil confirmed everyone's guess.

"It might be a diversion to catch our attention while they attack elsewhere." Red said from her position at the Queen's shoulder.

"True." the Queen agreed. "Send two scouts to Hanken ridge and the Skregin to see if any other boats are lurking. And for this parley we can play their game. Muster the war-band on the beach."

"The whole band?" Red questioned.

"Oh yes. It never hurts to bargain from a position of strength."

Laff was across the hall, heading for the weapon rack, even before the Queen had finished speaking. The rest of the family broke into groups. The men herded children to the back of the hall, the old women stood in the centre talking in low voices, the councillors gathered around the Queen, and the young women of the war-band assembled by the weapon rack.

Tevi joined the war-band, her heart thumping. All her life there had been relative peace - a few minor raids, such as the one where her mother had been hurt. However, the new Queen of Rathshorn was minded for war. Everybody knew that trouble was brewing.

Swords hung in their scabbards under the shields. Tevi took hers and adjusted the belt round her waist. Around her women were putting on helmets and greaves. It was all so serious, deadly serious, yet the atmosphere was like children playing on the beach.

"Tevi, what do you think. Is it war?" Tevi glanced over her shoulder to see Laff, her eyes alight, as excited as the young girls. In the enthusiasm Laff's hostility was forgotten. It was the first time in months she had addressed Tevi without a sneer.

"Hopefully not." Tevi said quietly.

"NOT?"

"I don't want to see women killed for no good reason."

"You're frightened." Laff's voice returned to its usual contempt.

Tevi cursed herself; she should have held her tongue. "It isn't that..." her words were cut off.

"I'm sure it is. And in your place I'd be frightened. It's only because the handle sticks out of the scabbard that you know which end of your sword to hold. And you're supposed to lead the war-band. It's going to be so embarrassing following you. You're the worst fighter we have. You'll be dead within two minutes."

"Then you won't have the embarrassment of following me for long." Tevi snapped back as she rammed the helmet onto her head and left the hall.

Of course, Laff's words were true. If it was war then Tevi knew she would be dead within days. Her incompetence at fighting was a running joke. The sight of Abrak's chapel made Tevi remember her prayer. Give me the chance to improve my reputation, so people will speak of me with respect. Another bad joke. No one would talk ill of a woman who died in battle, no matter how quickly or incompetently.

Tevi's face was grim as she followed the elders towards the beach, gathering the members of the war-band from their family halls as they went. The women were in high spirits, laughing with each other, but only Brec had a smile for Tevi.

"I hear we have visitors." Brec said as she joined the line of armed women, her well-formed features holding their usual easy grin.

"Just one boatload, so far." Tevi replied.

"So we're all going to pose prettily on the beach for them." Brec's laugher rang out.

"I think that's about it." Despite her bleak mood Tevi found a grin rising to her own lips.

Unfailing good humour was possibly Brec's most valuable trait - that and the simple, uncritical friendship she offered. Tevi was aware her own feelings for Brec were altogether more complicated. Everyone liked Brec. She was witty, honourable and good-looking, skilled with both sword and fishing net, easy-going but not weak-willed. So why is she eager to be my friend, when anyone in the village would welcome her company? The thought sprang from Tevi's bitter mood.

The war-band gathered in an untidy phalanx at the head of the beach. Tevi, her mother and the matriarchs of the families stood slightly detached from the warriors, directly behind the Queen. They had barely reached position when the boat from Rathshorn rounded the Stormfast Cliffs and cut across the blue waters of the bay. The figures of several women were visible on the small craft, working in unison, taking in the sail as they neared the beach.

Tevi's eyes were on the boat but, behind her, she heard the excited exchanges between members of the war-band.

"What do you think they want?"

"Might be some sort of ultimatum."

"As a pretext for war?"

"Could be."

"Perhaps Queen Fearful wants her brother back."

"I say we should let her take him - he's the next best thing to useless."

"You've had him?"

"Only once." The exaggerated exasperation in the woman's voice brought yelps of laughter that were quickly stifled by glares from the older matriarchs.

The boat ran aground in the shallows. Seven women jumped out, up to their thighs in the waves. Together they hauled the boat up the beach, beyond the reach of the tide. An older woman then disembarked and splashed through ankle high water. The green pennant from the boat was tied to a long spear in her hand. A dozen yards from the Queen she stopped and planted the butt of her spear in the sand.

There was silence while the two groups studied each other. Tevi looked at the leader of the Rathshorn women, taking in her spiky white hair and twin scars across her left cheek. It was always strange to see a face you could not recognise. Normally you could go months on end, even years, without seeing one. The temptation was to try to mentally force the features into familiar contours.

At last the stranger spoke. "I am First-in-battle, cousin and envoy to Queen Fearless-warrior of Rathshorn." Her clear voice was loud over the sound of the waves.

"I am Fists-of-thunder, Queen of Storenseg. I welcome you to the island and to the village of Holric." Tevi's grandmother replied, at her most austere.

The envoy's gaze raked appraisingly over the Queen before continuing. "My companions and I have travelled far to speak with you. We bring an offer that will aid both our islands."

"Then we will be pleased to hear to it." Despite the conciliatory words there was an icy edge of sarcasm in the Queen's voice.

The envoy was unflustered. "May I introduce my companions? This is Raging-shark, foremost in victories, whose courage is famed in song throughout the isles." A tall, redheaded woman nodded. "This is Steadfast-shield-wall, the despair of all who stand against her, fearless and invincible. This is..."

Tevi stopped listening. It was a meaningless formality to identify the women before the parley could commence. The ascribed feats were largely fictitious. The warlike birth names were never normally used. All the women on the islands were known by abbreviations or puns on their birth names, or as in Tevi's case, acquired nicknames.

The envoy finished speaking. The Queen continued the naming ceremony, with the small group assembled between her and the war-band. Brec's grandmother Lizard was introduced as Dragon-heart. Miam, ancient, half-blind and deaf, as Mighty-sword-arm. All were credited with feats of valour. Tevi would have found it funny, if she had not been dreading her own introduction.

The Queen was nearing the end of the line. There was only Red and Tevi to go. "This is my daughter, Blood-of-my-foes, a warrior whose name is spoken with awe, who has triumphed in countless battles." For once the acclamation was completely true - or had been once. The envoy looked with interest, but her attention was fixed on the crutch under Red's arm. "And finally this is my grand-daughter, Strikes-like-lightning, who boldly leads the war-band."

Tevi fought to keep the grimace from her face. It was decidedly weak praise, but anything stronger might have drawn sniggers from the women behind her. Now at last they could all go back to Holric, and learn the nature of the envoy's mission.

*****

Thick brown wax sealed the stopper of the terracotta flask. Beneath the dried surface it was still tacky and dull red in hue, where Tevi's knife picked it back. Her hands shook as she worked, aware that everyone in the hall was watching - not that there were crowds; in fact Tevi had never seen the royal hall so empty. Apart from herself and the Queen, the only ones present were the eight women from Rathshorn, the matriarchs of the seven main families and three veteran captains of Storenseg's war-band, including Red. Those who would normally have occupied the hall, mainly domestic slaves and the very old, had been ejected. Guards outside the doorway kept the curious at a distance. Undeterred, folk gathered some way off, peering in as best they could. Shouts drifted around the square, but no one inside was yet talking.

The Queen was the only one seated. Tevi stood before her grandmother, struggling with the stubborn cork. She could feel her mother's eyes burning into her back, imagining the shame should it be said that the leader of the Storenseg war-band could not fight her way into a wine flask, but soon Tevi had scraped away the last of the sealing wax and the stopper was loose enough to be pulled.

Tevi balanced the flask in the crook of her arm and poured a stream of yellow wine into a drinking bowl. The sweet, sickly smell seemed too heavy for the early hour, yet custom had to be observed. She offered the drink first to the Queen, who accepted with a faint nod and took a tiny mouthful, barely wetting her lips. Of course, anyone with her grandmother's years of experience would be alert to the risk of negotiating when light-headed. Tevi moved on to the envoy and again offered the bowl. The woman from Rathshorn also swallowed a sip - a small sip, but enough. The tension in Tevi's neck eased slightly. Whatever else the envoy might say, by all rules of honour, she had now shared their hospitality and could not declare war.

As the Queen's chief advisor, Brec's grandmother, Lizard, was the next to be offered the wine. It was thereafter passed from woman to woman in order of seniority. Some accepted with exaggerated formality, others knocked back the wine as if throwing down a challenge. Last of all Tevi herself took a draft. The sweet liquid rolled over her tongue like waves over sand. She had not realised how dry her mouth was.

With the wine ritual over, benches were pulled from the sides and arranged forming a square about the hearth. The women sat. The drinking bowl was refilled and commenced a second, less formal circuit of the hall. Tevi found herself at the end of a bench, next to her mother. Her eyes flicked from person to person. The older women sat in postures of rigid authority, their backs as straight as swords. The younger ones were more blatantly aggressive, with their feet square on the ground, arms folded or braced on their knees, bodies tensed as if ready to leap up and hit someone, and fierce expressions as if waiting for an excuse to do so. Tevi tried to imitate the pose, but she felt ridiculous, a poor burlesque of her sister. She prayed the women from Rathshorn did not realise.

It was hard not to wince as she met Blaze's eyes. Blaze, a captain of the war-band, had been the one charged with the impossible task of training Tevi in the arts of war. Impossible not because Tevi lacked strength or speed, or that she was half-hearted about weapon practice. It was just Tevi's inability to put what she knew into effect. The set exercises were easy, the faint, parry, thrust and advance, but as soon as she was pitted against a living opponent Tevi's defence crumbled so she might as well have been naked and blindfolded. "Watch her feet out of the corner of your eye. Don't just follow her sword! Think ahead." Blaze had screamed over the years, until even she had given up in disgust. Her caustic remarks about Tevi's incompetence were common knowledge. Blaze swore Tevi was the worst excuse for a warrior she had ever attempted to train.

The voice of the Queen broke the silence, pulling Tevi back from her brooding. "And now, may we ask the reason for your coming?"

The envoy got to her feet. Her gaze travelled slowly over the women assembled before she fixed upon the Queen. "I speak on behalf of Queen Fearless-warrior, defender of her people, head of the families of Rathshorn, rightful Queen of all the Western Isles..." She got no further.

"You must be aware I would also claim that last title." The Queen's voice was firm.

The interruption was accepted with a faint smile. "As would several others."

"Not all have history or law on their side."

"True. However the rival claims of Rathshorn and Storenseg are not the subject I wish to discuss." the envoy said with only the barest hint of conciliation.

"Then perhaps you should leave the titles until such time as you do." The steel underlying the Queen's voice was unmistakable.

After long seconds of silence the envoy continued, but less overtly confrontational. "I have come to speak concerning the island of Argenseg. This island is by treaty, and by will of the people, subject to the crown of Rathshorn. But, as you know, twenty years ago corrupt traitors overthrew their lawful rulers. They have not honoured the oaths of their mothers. They have not sent tribute; instead they have sent bands of pirates to harry the villages of Rathshorn. Their insults can not go unpunished any longer. It is the intention of the Queen to reclaim her rightful property."

"Why do you come to tell us? Surely your Queen is not seeking our assistance."

"We do not ask you to fight beside us. But there is help you may give. Storenseg is blessed with mines that yield ores of the highest quality. Blades made by your blacksmiths are the envy of the islands. It sometimes happens that these blades find their way into rebel hands. If you agree to stop this trade then Queen Fearless-warrior would take it as a sign of goodwill. And Rathshorn is always loyal to her friends."

"Swords may go from Storenseg to Argenseg by many routes. And I can hardly deprive my traders of their livelihood." the Queen said reasonably.

"Rathshorn will undertake to buy all the weapons you have for sale, at a fair price."

"What benefit do I get from interfering in the concerns of my traders?"

The envoy was silent for a while, as if weighing her next words. "There are some who say Storenseg has given aid to the rebels. Some, no doubt misguided, even say Storenseg first encouraged the treasonous revolt. A friendly gesture would silence the calls for retaliation, otherwise Queen Fearless-warrior might be hard put to ignore the council of war."

"Thank you, I think you have made yourself clear. Is this all you wish to say?" By her tone the Queen might almost have been bored.

"It is." the envoy said.

"An interesting offer, and one I must consider further. While I prepare my answer, you will be our honoured guests."

"My crew and I are willing to camp on the beach."

"Lodgings will be found for you. And, so that none of your misguided councillors may say I slighted the envoy of Queen Fearless-warrior, tonight we will hold a feast in your honour."

The Queen stood, signalling the end of the formal debate. The meeting broke into small groups. The matriarchs huddled together, waiting for the envoy to go before expressing their opinions. However the envoy clearly had other business before she was lead from the hall. She made her way through the melee around the heath and waylaid Red.

"Blood-of-my-foes, it has been a long time since we met, and the last time I saw you was over the rim of a shield. I'm sorry we did not have time to talk on that day."

"It was a brief visit to Rathshorn." Red spoke so calmly it took Tevi a second to realise they were talking about her mother's last, ill-fated raid.

The envoy went on, "But you went away with such valuable souvenirs. The Queen still greatly misses her brother, not to mention the fine jewellery and weapons."

"And no doubt she complains I scorched the roof of her hall." Red said, dryly.

"She was none too pleased." The envoy's tone was also light-hearted. "But I heard you were wounded returning to your boat. Now I see you walk with a crutch. Has your leg not healed?" There was no mistaking the interest in the state of Red's health.

"One souvenir of Rathshorn I would rather not have taken."

"It has been a bad time for Storenseg, losing both you and Abrak's chalice." The envoy was veering towards smugness.

"Neither loss is unbearable."

"Of course." The envoy's eyes shifted abruptly to Tevi. "And now your daughter leads the war-band. She must be a great comfort to you."

The urge to shuffle out of view almost overwhelmed Tevi, but somehow she managed to meet the envoy's enquiring gaze. Before anything else could be said, they were joined by Blaze who addressed the envoy.

"My name is Blazing-sword. If you are ready, I have been appointed to lead you to your lodgings."

"Ah yes, thank-you. I was just commending Strikes-like-lightning as leader of your war-band. Although young, the child of such an illustrious mother must surely be a warrior to be reckoned with. Doubtless the defence of Storenseg rests safe on her shoulders."

"Her skill with a sword is the talk of all the island. I have trained many warriors, but never before have I met her like." Blaze said with a deadpan face.

The crowds moved apart as Blaze led the women from Rathshorn across the square to a hall with sleeping space to spare. After a short discussion at the door two of the visitors trotted to the beach to collect such things as they needed. Several young girls tagged along, whooping in excitement, but the majority of the population remained, milling about the square. Families, eager to learn what had happened, surrounded their matriarchs as they emerged from the royal hall.

Tevi stood by the doorway, watching until the envoy disappeared from view. As quietly as possible she slipped around the edge of the square, avoiding all the questioning looks. Few would chose her as a source of information, but she had no wish to be involved in the overblown and facile arguments that she knew would take place.

Brec caught up with her at the entrance of a narrow passage between two halls. Her friend's habitual good-natured grin was replace by anxious, wide-eyed concern.

"Tevi, what's happening? What did they say?"

"They're playing some sort of game... the goddess knows what the point is. Our grandmothers will have a better idea of what it's about than me."

"Someone said they've given an ultimatum about selling swords to Argenseg." Brec said.

"I'm sure there's more to it. Come on, let's get away from all this noise and I'll tell you everything they said." Tevi gestured for Brec to follow.

The pair of them started between the buildings, leaving the bustle of the square behind. Before they had taken a dozen steps another voice assailed them.

"So. Did the women of Rathshorn tremble in their boots at the sight of our mighty war leader?"

Tevi turned around. At the entrance to the passage stood Laff, arms crossed and a sour expression of disdain on her face.

"I'm sure you won't be at all surprised to learn they hardly noticed me." Tevi said.

"What, you managed to avoid drawing attention to yourself by walking into a bench? You must be having a good day." Laff moved closer, until she was less than an arm's-length away. The two sisters glared at each other until Tevi sighed in exasperation and dropped her head - she was not in the mood to deal with her sister's hostility.

"Look, I know you're angry that I was at the meeting and you weren't. Honestly I'd much rather you'd been there instead of me. But I wasn't given the option, I didn't chose to be the firstborn daughter." Tevi spoke brusquely.

"I couldn't care less about the meeting." Judging by her tone, Laff's words were blatantly untrue.

"Then what are you so wound up about?"

"You; and the way you're going to bring shame upon our family." Laff spat out the words.

"I'll try my best not to."

"Your best is pathetic. Strikes-like-lightning - they named you well. You couldn't hit the same spot twice for trying." Laff rephrased one of Blaze's jokes.

"And you could do so much better?" Tevi snapped. She was starting to get angry.

"Of course I could! I should lead the war-band, not you."

"Then perhaps you should go to mother and suggest she reschedules our births." Over Laff's shoulder Tevi saw a group of women begin to gather at the passage entrance, attracted by the raised voices. It was time to cut the argument short, but Laff was not about to let it drop.

"How do you have the nerve to bring mother into this! She was a great warrior. She must be so ashamed to have you as a daughter."

"Oh she is. She makes that quite clear." Tevi spun about and began to walk away.

"You aren't fit to follow her. You should have been a boy - you go out of your way to act like one. How far do you take the act?"

Tevi knew she should have kept walking, but there was an edge to Laff's voice that could not be ignored. She turned back and snarled, "At least I don't act like a girl who has to think with her sword since she keeps her brain between her legs."

Laff grinned, pleased to have provoked a reaction. She looked her sister slowly up and down before saying, "Oh, no. No one would ever accuse you of that. I don't know about being a real warrior, you're not even a real woman."

Tevi's hands clenched into fists, she could feel herself shaking. It had been a bad move to start trading insults with Laff, but she could not back off now, not with the audience. "I'm enough of a woman to ram that stupid remark back down your throat."

"You think you want to try?" Laff was, if anything, getting louder. "Where were you and Brec going? Off to hold hands and stare into each other's eyes? But I'm probably being unfair to Brec. Perhaps she doesn't realise you'd like to play the man for her - on your back with your pants down."

Laff had gone too far, much too far. Tevi leapt forwards, her fist swinging for her sister's face. The sudden attack took Laff by surprise but she managed to raise an arm to parry. Even so, the punch clipped her on the side of the head, and knocked her backwards into the wall of the hall. Tevi swiftly moved in for a second blow, but her sister kicked at her legs, causing her to stumble and miss.

The fight was short and predictable. Tevi attempted to take the offensive; she knew she was better in attack than defence. Unfortunately, her sister was equally well aware of this. They traded a few quick punches; most were easily blocked. Then Laff connected with a hard kick to the knee. Tevi did not see the unexpected low strike coming - she never did. The first she knew was pain exploding in her leg. She crumpled forward, straight onto another vicious punch to the stomach that sent her crashing to the ground, gasping for breath.

Laff stood over her fallen sister. "You really should have been a man. I'm sure even our brothers could fight better. You're..." Laff's words were cut short.

"What do you think you're doing?" Blaze pushed her way through the row of spectators and arrived at Laff's shoulder.

"Tevi and I had a disagreement."

"This isn't the time to pick fights with her." Blaze said.

"Tevi started it."

"Then she's a bigger fool than I thought. And you're no better." Blaze's voice was low, but biting. "Supposing one of the women from Rathshorn had seen this."

"So what if they had?" Laff sneered, still looking down at Tevi.

Blaze pulled Laff around and glared into her eyes. "We all know Tevi is as much use to the war-band as a straw dummy - slightly less, we could burn the dummy to cook our dinner over. But she's your mother's eldest daughter and she has to lead us. How would they react in Rathshorn if they learnt the truth? Have you considered the boost it would give them, and what it would mean in battle? When you're as old as me you'll know that half of fights come down to confidence." Blaze paused for a moment, while the defiance faded from Laff's face. "Try to act like adults, at least until the envoy leaves."

Blaze stalked away. Laff gave a last angry glare at her sister and followed. The crowd dispersed. Tevi managed to haul herself to her feet and braced herself against the wall, massaging her damaged knee.

"You should have let me tackle Laff, I was only half a second behind you." Brec said.

"I lost my temper." Tevi did not look up as she spoke.

"I don't blame you. I don't know what gets into Laff sometimes... she can have a nasty mind. What made her say that?"

This time Tevi glanced at her friend, then dropped her eyes back to her knee. Brec was a good friend, but Tevi wondered how she could be so naive. Not that Tevi would complain. Of all the women on Storenseg, Brec was the only one Tevi could rely on for support, the only one she could talk to. But even so, there was no way she could admit to Brec that Laff's accusation was true.

*****

The Queen's private sleeping area had its own small hearth, though the fire was unlit on the warm spring morning. A rush mat on a bed of straw took up a third of the space. Two low stools were the only furniture. The Queen sat on one, her chief adviser, Lizard, on the other. Their heads were close as they spoke in low voices, discussing the envoy's message.

War had taken both of the Queen's sisters long ago, depriving her of close family support. Lizard had filled the gap. Together the two women had dominated Storenseg affairs for decades. The current situation was merely the latest in a series of potential crises they had avoided, or overcome.

Lizard was scathing in her appraisal of the Queen of Rathshorn. "Silly young fool."

"She'll learn - if she lives long enough." the Queen said.

"Do you think she'll attack Storenseg?"

"I think she'd like to. Control of the two biggest islands is a logical first step in conquering all the Western Isles." The Queen sighed. "Of course she won't be able to take Storenseg, but a lot of women will die while she finds that out."

"The traditional claims to rule all the islands create a lot of wild dreams."

"I know. I'd drop my own claim with no regrets, if I could do it without losing face. I worry about Red trying once I'm gone."

"She won't." Lizard said confidently.

"Can you be sure?"

"I agree she lacks political sense, but she knows enough about war to spot a lost cause."

"And Fearless doesn't." The Queen said firmly. After a moment's silence, she continued. "We need her to learn - and quickly. If I read things right she's heading for war, but can't make her mind up on the target. We need Fearless to go for Argenseg. She'll be able to take it all right; it's not a tenth the size of Storenseg, but she'll lose a fifth of her war-band. It might give her a better grasp of the practicalities of war, and she certainly won't be in a fit state to worry us."

"It would be comforting if she did decide on Argenseg, but I'm worried about this nonsense over the swords. It sounds as if she's trying to create a pretext for war with us. There was nothing subtle about the threat at the end." Lizard said.

"I noticed. But I don't think it's reached that point. This parley is just an excuse to send a party to scout out how things stand - you saw the envoy's eyes light up at the sight of Red limping. We need to make sure she goes back with the right message."

Lizard pursed her lips. "So what will you do about selling swords to Argenseg?"

"That's a hard one. To agree might be taken as a sign of weakness. To refuse would give an excuse to attack. But, if I'm right, she's not serious about the swords, and she can always find another excuse."

"True."

"I have to make polite noises and do nothing. We certainly aren't going to sell Rathshorn swords they can use to cut our throats with." The Queen looked thoughtful. "Perhaps I could send Fearless's brother back as an irrelevant gesture."

"That won't please Hilo - she's taken rather a liking to him."

"There's no shortage of men." the Queen snorted.

"We can't afford bickering among our families."

The two women sat in silence for a while, with identical frowns on their faces.

"And of course there's Queen Axe on Skuden." Lizard said at last.

"In what way?"

"She'd like to take Breel from us. Axe isn't stupid. She knows if Rathshorn attacks we'll fight them off eventually, but we won't be able to send reinforcements to Breel while we do it."

"Thank the goddess Fearless and Axe have a blood-feud so they can't co-operate directly." The Queen's tones were heartfelt.

"But if Axe attacks Breel and draws off some of our warriors, Fearless may think to turn it to her own advantage, and Axe may count on that."

The Queen groaned and sank her face into her hands, but after a moment she looked up, her face set in determined expression. "All right. We need to take a three-prong action. First we'll try and manoeuvre Argenseg into provoking Fearless - something she can't ignore. Perhaps we can suggest to some of their hotheads that it might be funny to take another of Fearless's brothers captive. Second we send our own envoy to Varseg. They've given more support to Argenseg than us. We exaggerate their danger and offer a mutual-protection treaty so if either is attacked the other will come to their aid."

"I doubt they'll agree." Lizard sounded unsure.

"Probably not. But I have sufficient reputation for engineering victories that they won't reject the offer out of hand. And their acceptance isn't the main object. We can make sure the news gets back to Fearless. Since Rathshorn is sandwiched between Varseg and us, she'll have to consider the risk that if she attacks either way she'll have an enemy at her back."

Lizard smiled. "And if she can't see the danger she has plenty of advisors who can."

"Finally we send Red to Breel. We've always been fair to Breel, and allowed them a lot of autonomy. If they have to choose between us and Axe I think they'll chose us. Red can no longer fight herself, but she could inspire the women of Breel to fight in their island's defence."

"And organise them for their maximum effect." Lizard added.

"Quite. If Axe knows that Red is in charge it will make her realise Breel will not be an easy battle, even without any other support from us."

Lizard smiled. "It's all sounding like one of your typical schemes. And just the news that you're playing politics ought to make Fearless think twice - or make someone remind her of the times when others tried to attack you, and found themselves out-manoeuvred before the first sword was drawn."

"A good reputation can be the best weapon of all." the Queen said. "My family has a lot of prestige, even with the loss of the chalice. I want to use our name to bluff a way through this without a fight. We want to make sure every woman on the whole island chain is reminded of the things Red and I have achieved. We want to make sure they think of the royal family of Storenseg as dangerous enemies."

"I do see one potential problem." Lizard said after a moment's pause.

The Queen's face was grim. "I know... Tevi."

Chapter 2: In the hay barn

By mid-afternoon Tevi was able to climb to the fortified stockade high on the hillside, although her knee still shot twinges up her leg whenever she shifted her weight awkwardly. The stockade would be needed to keep livestock safe from raids if war came. Tevi had volunteered to inspect the structure. Her intention had been to avoid attention and get time alone to think, however Brec had insisted on coming along. There was no easy way to turn down the offer of company - not without getting into a debate on the interpretation Laff might put on their going off together.

The stockade was a large enclosure surrounded by a deep ditch with a timber reinforced embankment. Its layout made use of natural rock faces wherever possible. From its entrance, Tevi looked down on the valley. Nestling among fields far below, Holric looked small, like a toy village made by a child in the sand. Tevi felt as if she could put out her hand and knock it flat. She almost wished that she could. Her brooding was interrupted when Brec trotted over from the far side of the enclosure.

"The ditch and bank are sound, but the palisade needs a bit of work in places." Brec said as she came to a stop.

"It's the same this side. I'll tell grandmother she needs to send some women up here with axes. What do you reckon - about two days work for three women?" Tevi said.

"That would do it easily."

Tevi nodded but said nothing more; neither did she show signs of wanting to return to Holric. Brec frowned at her friend's dark mood.

"Come on. Let's go back and see how preparations are going. We could check out the cooking - maybe sample a few bits to make sure they're doing it properly." Brec said in her brightest tones.

"You could. I might go and see my boat."

"Surely it can wait?" Brec sounded exasperated.

"We've missed out on fishing today. We'll have to set off early tomorrow. I want to be sure everything is ready."

"I'll come with you."

"You don't have to." Tevi said quietly.

"Yes I do. But I warn you, if you don't cheer up I'm going to start singing happy little songs."

Brec was irrepressible, and at last, Tevi smiled. "That's quite a threat."

"I know. That's why I reserve it for dire emergencies." Brec said in mock-seriousness.

Their route to the beach took them through the jumble of barns and workshops on the outskirts of the village. Decades of trampling feet had worn hollows in the dark soil. Dry-stone walls lined either side of the path, overhung by steep thatch roofs reaching nearly to the ground.

The fires in the smithy were low and untended when they passed. The carpenter's, potter's and tanner's workshops were also deserted. The arrival of the boat from Rathshorn and coming feast had disrupted the daily schedule. Little real work was being done. The men still cleaned and cooked, but most of the older women were using whatever excuse they could to gather in groups and discuss the prospect of war. The younger women had assembled on the open ground beside the river, where they practised their swordplay with even more zeal than usual, hoping their ardour, if not their skill, would impress the visitors.

Outside one of the stores, a group of three men were struggling with a large cider barrel. One was Brec's brother Sparrow, the others were distant cousins of Tevi. As soon as she saw what they were doing Brec marched over and put a restraining hand on the barrel. The men immediately stood back.

"Is this for the feast tonight?" Brec asked.

"Yes. Grandmother told us to get it." Sparrow answered defensively for the group.

"No one will drink it if you stir up all the dregs."

"We were trying to keep it steady."

Brec relented and smiled. "Don't worry, Tevi and I will carry it."

"We'll cope." Sparrow said softly.

"I'd rather not take the chance, I'd like to drink some - or to be more precise I'd like to drink quite a lot."

"We'll be careful."

"Tevi and I will carry it." Brec said decisively.

"They'll be all right without us." Tevi said, wishing to spare her knee.

"We can't leave the boys to lug this to the main square. It must weigh twice as much as the three of them put together." Brec said.

It was an exaggeration, but the full barrel was certainly too heavy for the men to lift. However, thanks to Abrak's potion, it presented no problem for Brec and Tevi. Tevi's knee complained with each step, but the need to avoid shaking the barrel gave them the excuse to go slowly. They wove their way to the main square with the men tagging along. Brec kept up a stream of banter.

"You don't want to pull a muscle, else you'll be no fun at the feast, and even less fun afterwards - although the fun thing to pull then doesn't have a muscle in it." Brec said.

Tevi's cousins giggled.

Brec's flow of innuendo continued. The men blushed at her more outrageous teasing. Sparrow walked beside Tevi, smiling at her shyly. He was barely an inch taller than her, with long hair and large brown eyes. As children, they had played together, collecting crabs and shellfish on the beach and acting out games of make-believe. As adults their lives were divided by the roles allocated to them, but he was still someone Tevi could consider a friend. He seemed to like her.

"It's kind of you to help us." Sparrow said.

"Brec was right. It's too heavy for you to carry. Lizard should have sent some women." Tevi replied.

"I guess grandmother didn't think."

"She must have a lot on her mind."

"Do you think Rathshorn is going to declare war on us?" Sparrow asked seriously.

Brec heard the question and broke off her own conversation. "Don't worry. We'll look after you. The Rathshorn war-band won't stand a chance. We'll cut them into pieces to use as fish-bait."

The assertion made the men smile, although a trace of unease remained in their eyes. Brec returned to her attempt at seduction, clearly feeling she had said all the men wanted to hear. Tevi was not so certain. Every woman in the village was eagerly debating strategy and politics - were the men so different? She knew Sparrow was not stupid. Surely he could not be content with Brec's trite boasting? Yet he asked no more questions.

The barrel was finally deposited on a stand in the village square. The five young people stood a while, talking. Tevi was anxious to leave, but Brec prolonged the conversation, her attention fastened on one of Tevi's cousins, who appeared flustered, but not displeased.

The square was busy. While waiting for Brec to finish flirting Tevi had plenty of time to look around. It seemed that she was getting more than her usual share of disapproving looks, but it was impossible to say whether it was due to Laff's accusation, or if people were for the first time seriously considering the prospect of her leading the war-band. In fact, she told herself, it could be that I'm looking for evidence of people's dislike, rather than trying to ignore it. It was hard not to be over-sensitive.

At last, Brec was ready to continue to the beach. They walked in silence. Brec's face was unusually serious. Tevi assumed her friend's thoughts were still with the young man she had been chatting up. As they reached the boat, Brec said. "Do you mind if I say something?"

"Would saying 'no' stop you?" Tevi replied with a grin - the sight of the boat had put her in a better mood. It always did. She placed both hands flat on the hull and felt its solid reassurance flow into her. Tevi glanced over her shoulder. Brec was staring at her own feet and her jaw was set. She had clearly built herself up to say something and was not going to be deflected. A sense of premonition kicked at Tevi's stomach.

Brec swallowed and said. "You like Sparrow, don't you?"

"Yes. He's a nice lad. Friendly to talk to."

"I don't mean like that."

"What do you mean?"

Brec hesitated for a second, biting her lip. "I mean... like... as a man."

Tevi fixed her eyes on the boat, not daring to face her friend. Laff has got even Brec wondering, she thought, What must the rest of the village be thinking? Out loud she said, "Well... yes. He's good-looking, and he..." Tevi's words died.

Brec was also not at her most fluent. "Because... well, what Laff said... before you hit her..."

"She was just being spiteful." Tevi fought to keep her voice steady.

"Oh, I know that. But I think I know what made her think of it."

Tevi's mouth went dry.

Brec's words came out in a rush. "Tevi, I can tell you're nervous with men. I know that doesn't mean anything... lots of women are, they just hide it. That's what the stupid bragging is about. I do it myself, like with your cousin just now." Brec raised her eyes, her expression worried, but sincere. "But you've got no need to be nervous. Lots of the men like you, I can tell. Sparrow likes you. You must have noticed how he's started hanging around you. And... I think he's just waiting for you to... say something. You have to be more..." Brec stumbled to a stop.

Tevi could think of nothing to say. For a moment, the truth hung on her lips. Actually, Laff was on the right track. I'm attracted to women, not men. They were words that could not be said. Tevi managed to mumble, "I don't know..."

"You can't let rumours get out of hand, just because you're not like Laff, chasing after every man like a bitch in heat."

Even if she was naive, Brec was right, but Tevi did not want to discuss it - could not discuss it. In a desperate bid to shift the conversation, Tevi latched on to the topic of Laff. "You're spot on about my sister. I think she's had every available man in Holric."

"And a few who weren't really available. There's going to be a big bust-up one of these days." Brec agreed, but her expression was troubled.

"I don't know how she gets away with it. She's not even discrete." Tevi could hear herself babbling and stopped short. Brec's candour deserved a better response. "But thanks... I'll... er, think about it. "

Brec brightened. "If you want I'll speak to Sparrow for you."

"No." Tevi said quickly, but then gave an apologetic grimace. "I'll sort it out myself."

"All right." Brec gave a sigh of relief and made her own attempt to change the subject. "Why does Laff hate you so much?"

It was not the way Tevi would have liked the conversation to go, but she tried to give an honest answer. "I don't know if she does. I think she just puts on a show to distance herself from me."

"Why?"

Because she's astute enough not to get linked to a loser. Tevi did not voice the words; they were too blunt and too simplistic. As a child, she could remember Laff running after her, adoration in her eyes, but at some stage Laff had learned that her big sister was not someone to be proud of. How much had the discovery hurt? Tevi suspected most of the venom behind her sister's attacks was revenge for that first disillusionment.

In the face of Tevi's silence Brec answered her own question. "She's jealous because you'll be Queen one day."

Tevi shook her head "No, that's not fair. Laff would be happy with the role of loyal sister to a respected Queen, but she feels I won't be able to play my part when the time comes."

"You'll do fine."

"Laff may be right." Tevi said quietly.

"Don't be stupid."

"I'm hopeless at fighting."

"So was your grandmother, from what I've heard. It's why she wasn't so keen to go into battle with her sisters - and it's why she's still alive. Yet, she's been a great Queen. You must have more faith in yourself. Why are you so worried?"

Tevi struggled to find an explanation she could give to Brec. The sound of footsteps, scrunching on the sand, was a welcome distraction. The pair turned to see Red appear behind the stern of the boat. Her eyes skipped over Tevi and fixed on the other young woman.

"Brec, I was looking for you. Lizard wants to see you right away."

Tevi's eyebrows rose. Passing on the message was such a menial errand - surely a child could have been sent instead of Red. It had to be something serious. Brec trotted off immediately, saying only "I'd better go see what grandmother wants."

Alone on the beach, Red looked at her daughter with an expression of distaste. "I don't suppose you know where Laff is?"

"I think I saw her practising her sword-play by the river."

Red snorted and turned away.

"Mother." Red stopped but did not look back. "If there's something you need? Can't I help?"

"I doubt it." Without any further words, Red limped off up the beach.

"Right. Fine. I'm sure Laff will be more use to you." Tevi spoke to her mother's retreating back, in a tone pitched too low to be heard.

Red vanished behind the dunes at the top of the beach. Above the high tide line, the black sands held a ragged cover of sea-grass. The first blooms of sand-pinks were starting to show with a flush of colour. Tevi's gaze skimmed over the deserted scene. There was nobody in sight. She turned and leaned her shoulders against the hull of the boat, staring bleakly at the sea.

"You want to know why I'll be no good as Queen?" Tevi addressed the waves with the words she could not say to Brec. "I don't like shouting and arguing. I don't like swaggering around all the time as if I'm looking for a fight. I don't like pretending the only strong emotions I feel are anger or lust. I'm no good at the act anyway. My mother is ashamed of me." It was a simple, painful fact.

Of the children Red had borne before Tevi only three sons survived infancy. Tevi had been a desperately longed-for heir. By the time she was three, her mother was already planning the victory feast for Tevi's first triumphant return from battle. Tevi knew she was supposed to become an invincible warrior and awe-inspiring leader. Watching her dreams crumble had made Red bitter. The injury to her leg had been the final blow.

Tevi's chin sagged onto her chest - if only one of her brothers had been a girl. She envied them. They gossiped, dyed their beards and went about their work, unheeded and unchallenged. Men don't have to pretend to be something they're not, she thought. She could almost wish she had been a boy. Then it wouldn't matter how I feel about women. Brec might even want to be my lover and... Tevi's head shot up as she squashed the thought.

The islands had a strict set of unwritten laws. Cowardice in battle would leave a woman disgraced forever; her family would disown her. There was a range of punishments for stealing, from a fine to enslavement. Treason or murder warranted the harshest penalty - death by stoning. For one woman to take another as lover was not so clearly defined. You might be executed, exiled, flogged or merely ridiculed - at least for a first offence. It would all depend on circumstance, the mood the Queen was in that day and possibly the direction the wind was blowing.

A memory came to Tevi, sharp and vivid. Eight years before a prisoner had been brought before her grandmother. The woman had killed another in cold blood. The Queen had passed judgement. The murderer had been taken to the scree slopes and tied to a post. Tevi had gone with the rest of the village to see justice done. The crowd had been a little overawed, watching as the Queen ceremonially threw the first stone. Others had joined in hesitantly. The first forty or so hits had resulted in torn and bleeding skin, a broken shoulder joint, and two or three fractured ribs. The woman had screamed for forgiveness. The next large stone had smashed the side of her face, crushing her skull and killing her. She had been deemed fortunate.

Tevi groaned and looked at the boat. Everything was in perfect order. There was no reason to stay away from the village any longer, except she could not face it - not just yet. Turning away, she walked along the beach and up the cliff path to the headland. Brec's words kept running through her head. Her friend was right about the risks of rumours. Tevi knew her status in the village was low enough. She did not need further scandal.

Women's sexual exploits formed a major part of their conversation, with imagination used, where necessary, to embellish the facts. Even allowing for exaggeration, Tevi was aware that all the women her age had been sexually active for years. The tally Laff was notching up gave rise in equal parts to jokes and envy. Tevi knew her own lack of enthusiasm for men would be noticed eventually - she just hadn't worked out what to do about it.

A line of cloud hung over the horizon, but the sky above was clear. Sunlight glittered off the waves. Tevi stood on the cliff tops. The brisk wind, heavy with salt, snapped at her hair. Seagulls screeched, their feathers rippling as they hovered. For a long time Tevi stood watching them while listening to the crash of surf below. It eased her tension, but the decision could not be put off. It was essential she took steps to silence the gossip. One particular course of action was unavoidable.

Tevi thought of Brec's comments about Sparrow. Presumably, Brec knew her own brother. Would he really be willing if she made a play for him at the feast? A rueful smile crossed Tevi's face. His response was unimportant for her purpose. It would probably have more effect on gossip if he ran from her screaming "No, no. You beast, unhand me!" But if he agreed...? Tevi pursed her lips - it probably would not be so bad. After all, she liked Sparrow. He was a friend.

Tevi hung her head. She had to do it, but the cynical way she was planing on using Sparrow did not sit well with her conscience. The coming evening would be a trial. The rest of her life would be a trial. She remembered her childish disappointment when she realised that being the Queen's granddaughter did not automatically make her the best at everything. Tevi turned around and looked back at Holric in the distance. The sun was sinking close to the horizon. It was time to go to the feast but, all things considered, maybe death in battle might not be so bad.

*****

The smell of roast boar greeted Tevi on her return to the main square. She paused by the fire pits. The air was thick laughter and with ribbons of sweet smoke. It seemed as if every child in Holric had gathered to watch the two pig carcasses cooking over the glowing coals. Many stood in silent awe, eyes and mouths wide open. Others laughed and squabbled.

Women had already begun their festivities, passing around flagons of wine and beer. There was no sign of the envoy and her comrades - they were presumably in the Queen's hall, being entertained more formally. The mood in the square was cheerful. For once Tevi did not feel herself to be the subject of hostile scrutiny. A gang of young women were sprawled to one side. For a moment, Tevi was tempted to join them, but she had an objective to achieve that night. With a determined expression, she turned to Lizard's family hall in search of Sparrow.

Inside it was dark and noisy, but once her eyes got accustomed to the light, she saw Sparrow surrounded by a group of small boys. He was helping braid their hair. Tevi made her way to within a few feet of him, then came to a standstill, suddenly very nervous and uncertain. For a while, she watched Sparrow, until one boy tapped his shoulder and pointed in her direction.

Sparrow looked up and smiled. "Hello. Are you looking for Brec? She's only just gone."

"No." Tevi said. "Actually I was looking for you."

"Me?"

"Well, I thought... you might like to come with me... if you're finished here. And I... we could see if the cider has settled. It might be nice if you and I, er..." Tevi knew she was flustered, she prayed she was not blushing as well. "spent some time together."

The knot in Tevi's stomach tightened, however she was relieved, and just a little surprised, to see the expression on his face change to a broad smile.

"I'd like that. But I thought you were due to meet Brec. She was looking everywhere for you." he said.

"We had no plans." Tevi was a little confused.

"She seemed very anxious to find you."

"I'm sure we'll bang into her at the feast."

"I think it was important."

"I don't know..." Tevi hesitated.

"It's not a problem. I'm going to be a bit longer with the children. When I'm finished, I'll look for you. I promise." It was Sparrow's turn to be shy. He fiddled with the comb in his hand, but then gave Tevi another broad smile.

"All right. I'll go and find her. We'll meet later." Tevi stood shifting from foot to foot, wondering if she should make some gesture - hug him, but it felt false. Besides, all he'd agreed was to meet her at the feast. He might be assuming she only wanted company. There would be time to say more later - and the cider would help.

Tevi settled for trying to match his smile before she left. Once outside she raised her face to the sky and let out a deep sigh. Sparrow had seemed happy. Maybe Brec was right about his liking of her. Tevi did not know whether to feel pleased or frightened.

At the thought of Brec Tevi stopped and looked about. The village square was swarming, but there was no sign of her friend.

"Have you seen Brec recently?" Tevi asked a woman standing nearby.

"She was looking for you. I think she headed off to your boat... thought you might be there."

"Right, thanks."

Tevi jostled through the crowded square with as much speed as possible. The sun had not yet set, but already some people were slightly drunk. They would not last until the end of the feast. One almost fell in her path. Running bands of children presented further obstacles, colliding with her at waist height. It took several minutes before she cleared the press of people lining the edge of the square. The noise was left behind. The outskirts of Holric were deserted but, on the way to the beach, she could see a lone figure.

"HEY. BREC!" Tevi shouted.

The figure stopped and ran back. "Where've you been? I've searched everywhere for you."

"What's up?"

Brec was clearly agitated, now she was close enough for Tevi to see her face. "I need to talk to you. Come with me." Brec said.

"What about? What's wrong?" Tevi was worried.

"We can't talk here. Come on."

Brec could not be drawn to say anything more. Anxiously Tevi followed her friend along the riverbank. They passed the empty workshops. At last, Brec lead the way into one of the barns at the edge of Holric. A mound of hay filled the back of the room. A row of small barrels lined one side and a few others were scattered in the middle. Apart from this, the building was empty.

"Right. So what is this about?" Tevi asked.

However, Brec held up one hand. She clambered onto the hay and peered over at the rear wall. Tevi stared in astonishment.

"I have to check if we are alone." Brec said.

"What... why?"

"You'll understand."

Brec returned to where Tevi was standing and pushed the door shut. The last of the sun's rays fell square on the timber planks. Light squeezed through the cracks so Tevi could see well enough. She selected one of the barrels and sat on it, waiting for an explanation.

Brec had her hands clasped behind the back of her head, staring at the ceiling. The dim light made it hard to judge her expression. Only the faint sounds from the distant square broke the silence.

"Brec?" Tevi prompted her friend.

"I've been thinking... about what we were saying beside the boat. At least... I've been doing a bit more thinking." Brec said unsteadily.

"And so have I. I've talked to Sparrow and I think you're right. He does like me."

"You're not really keen on him."

"Of course I am." Tevi said.

"But not as a man." Brec's voice was quiet. "You're sister was right, wasn't she?"

"Brec!"

"It's all right. You don't have to deny it."

Tevi's mouth went dry. For the space of a dozen heartbeats she could not force out any words. She was tempted to give in to panic and run. Eventually she found her voice. "Has someone been getting at you? Was it Laff? You shouldn't bother about her. Come on, let's go back to the feast." Tevi stood.

The other woman made no attempt to move. She was clearly fighting for words.

"Brec?"

Brec face dropped into her hands. Her voice came in a strangled whisper through her fingers. "I love you, Tevi."

The words hit Tevi like a physical blow. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears. Her legs turned to jelly. Stunned, she sank back onto the barrel while the barn around her seemed to ripple and fade.

"Tevi?" Brec's voice was tense, devoid of emotion.

Tevi did not answer. In her mind's eye she saw the body of the executed murderer, sagging broken and blood-soaked against the post.

"Tevi. Did you hear me? I said I love you."

"It's dangerous."

"But do you love me?"

"You must know that I do." Tevi said in a monotone whisper.

"Will you meet me here tonight?" Brec spoke urgently.

Things were going too far, too fast. The solid world was wrenched out of joint and Tevi felt half-stunned, or half-drunk, yet the implications of the request struck through the fog. She stared at her friend in alarm. "Hang on! Have you gone mad? Do you know what'll happen if we're caught?"

"I don't care." Brec said.

"We could be exiled or executed."

"Are you frightened?"

"Yes. Aren't you?" Tevi's head was spinning.

"But it's just the fear of being caught? If it was safe you'd want to be my lover?" Brec's voice was harsh in its insistence.

Tevi's head dropped as she fought for control of her voice, but now she could be honest. "More than anything in the world. I've loved you hopelessly for years."

"Then please, meet me here tonight. No one will miss us with the feast."

Tevi knew it was insane, but she could not say no. "All right, I'll be here."

"And we'll be lovers?" Brec's question sounded like a challenge.

"Yes."

"I think we've heard enough." The Queen's voice rang out. Tevi's head jerked in its direction. There was movement at the rear of the barn - someone emerging from behind the hay. Bewildered, Tevi spun back just in time to see Brec's fist. The blow knocked her sprawling on the floor. A foot swung into her stomach, driving the air from her lungs.

"Stop that." the Queen said sharply.

Gasping for breath, Tevi was vaguely aware of the presence of more people in the barn - walking around, standing over her. Their feet passed in front of her face.

Brec's voice sounded over the others. "Goddess! Did you hear her? I don't know how I managed to..."

The Queen broke in sharply. "We heard her. You played your part well. Don't overplay it. Now, bring her here and let's see if we can sort this out."

Still fighting to suck air into her lungs, Tevi was hauled to her knees and dragged across the barn. There was the sound of a flint being struck and the gentle light of a lantern sprang into life. Movement in the barn subsided. Tevi's head cleared as her breath returned.

She found herself kneeling in the centre of the floor. Both her arms were twisted behind her - sufficient to hurt a little and prevent her standing, but not enough to cause any damage. Tevi twisted her neck. Brec was holding one of her arms, Laff the other. In front of her Lizard and the Queen sat on barrels. Red adjusted the lantern before limping over and joining the two older women. A cold fist clenched Tevi's stomach - three judges and herself as prisoner. The hay barn was empty apart from the six of them.

Silence dragged on painfully until her grandmother said. "I take it you accept the authority of this court. Or would you prefer a public hearing?"

Tevi shook her head, not trusting herself to speak.

"I thought as much. So, what are we going to do with you? You really do present quite a problem."

"She always has. I blame myself for bearing her." Red interjected.

Tevi looked towards her mother, swamped with the bitter thought that Red would be unmoved to see her elder daughter provide the village with one last afternoon's entertainment on the scree slope.

The Queen spoke calmly. "Blame isn't the issue. As I said, Tevi presents us with a problem. We have to decide what to do about it."

"You're going to have me executed." Tevi found her voice.

The Queen shook her head. "That's an option, but not a very good one. I'd have to tell people why, and I'm afraid it would have a damaging effect on our family's reputation. With imminent war against Rathshorn we cannot afford that sort of scandal."

"So why have you engineered this?" Tevi asked.

"Because you were all set to cause a scandal whether I acted or not. Knowing you, you'd set it off at the worst possible moment. That's why I decided to pre-empt things. Always meet trouble halfway, it lets you pick the battleground. I learnt that years ago. Right now we're in an awkward situation. Executing you will only make it worse." The Queen paused while she brushed loose straw from her knees. The lamplight flickered in a gust of air. "So I'm going to give you an option."

Tevi raised her chin. A pulse leapt erratically in her throat. "You want me to kill myself - fall on my sword." At least it was a clean death and would spare her the humiliation of a public execution. She took a deep breath, steadying herself, but her grandmother shook her head.

"That would be a better option, but still not the best. If you commit suicide, people will talk. The gossip might even make things worse than they actually are. You can bet Queen Fearless-warrior would do her best to fan the speculation. Even if you make your death look like an accident - fall overboard and drown, it will be seen as bad-luck. Coming on top of your mother's injury and losing the chalice, we would be seen as a very unlucky family. People would say the Goddess had turned her back on us, which won't help in gaining allies."

"So what do you want me to do?"

"I want you to go." the Queen said firmly.

"Where?"

"Anywhere. The further the better."

"You're exiling me." Tevi said.

"In effect, yes. To do it officially would give free reign to the rumourmongers, so I want you to appear to go of your own accord. The feast tonight will provide a suitable audience. I want you to put on an act for them, like Brec did just now. Make a scene. Say the theft of the chalice is an insult to our family and you can no longer sit back and do nothing. Swear that you're going in search of Abrak's chalice and won't return until you find it."

"But nobody knows were the chalice is."

"So nobody will be surprised when you don't come back." the Queen said.

"And if I refuse?"

"I'll have to think of something else. Maybe arrange for you to be murdered and frame one of the women from Rathshorn. It might work in our favour, but it would be a very high-risk plan. Much better for you to disappear on a heroic quest - it's romantic and will make for some good songs. But, one way or another, I'll make sure you don't disgrace the family." Steel had crept into the Queen's voice.

Tevi raised her eyes to the roof. Shouts and laughter carried from the square. Someone was beating out a rhythm on a drum, displaying more enthusiasm than skill. Both Brec and Laff were shaking, even more than herself. A trap had closed around her, and there was no escape. "It's not a real choice, is it? All right, I'll give you what you want. I'll go." The gasp of relief from her sister surprised Tevi.

The Queen nodded. "Let her stand."

Tevi's arms were released. She got to her feet, rubbing her shoulders. She did not attempt to look at Brec. The Queen also stood and said, "Now I think we should leave as discreetly as possible, not all at once."

Laff beat everyone to the door, wrenching it open and rushing out. Brec would have followed close on her heels, but the Queen repeated sharply, "I said, not all at once."

Brec stopped as if she had hit a wall. She leaned against the doorpost, breathing deeply, her eyes fixed on the Queen. After a while, the elderly woman nodded. Brec spun out of the door and marched off in the direction Laff had taken.

A cold, dead feeling settled on Tevi. She stood, hardly conscious of the room around her, until a gentle push from her grandmother sent her tottering through the doorway.

Lizard left next, after a brief exchange of regrets.

Once she was alone with the Queen, Red ran her hands through her hair and scowled. "It's the one big disadvantage of being a woman - you can't dispute who your children are. At least, if I were a man, I could've questioned whether she really was mine."

"Nor can I deny that I'm her grandmother, but, unlike you, I'll confess I'm saddened to lose her, particularly in this fashion." the Queen said quietly.

"You can't mean that."

"But I do. And I also think, somewhere deep inside, you're grieving too, though I know you'll never admit it."

Red snorted and stuck out her chin. "That's because I'm not. If I'd been in your place I'd have gone for framing one of the Rathshorn women for her murder."

"How can you say that? It's our flesh and blood we're talking about."

"Supposing she doesn't leave the islands? Supposing she joins with Fearless-warrior?"

"She won't"

"How can you be so sure?" Red demanded.

"That's what this whole charade was about. I could have just spoken to her in private, explained my suspicions about her preference in lovers and asked her to go. Then she might have fled to Rathshorn. What I had to do was drive it home that she had no future on any of the islands. There'd always be the risk of rumours catching up with her. On top of that, my guess is she'll want to get as far from Brec as possible. If she sails to the opposite end of the earth she won't feel it's far enough."

"Well it's my bet that she comes to a miserable end, no matter where she meets it."

"Hopefully not. Anyway, she should do better than she would here. If only she knew it I've done her a favour. She wouldn't last five minutes in battle, or five days as Queen. But if I thought she had a chance I'd back her to the hilt."

"You've always had a soft spot for Tevi." Red said.

"While you've long preferred Laff. But let me tell you, given an even chance, Tevi would make a much better Queen. Leastwise I'd feel happier passing Storenseg on to her care."

Red gave a barking laugh of disbelief.

"I'm being serious." the Queen said.

"With respect, mother, I think you are being blinkered."

"Tevi is neither a fool nor a coward."

"Nor is Laff." Red retorted.

"Laff doesn't think she can lose, and that's a good starting point for leading the whole island to ruin."

"At least I know I can trust her."

"Despite what you think, you can trust Tevi. At least she'd never betray a friend, unlike Brec." Contempt was clear in the Queen's voice.

"I think Lizard will tell you it took a lot of argument, not to mention downright threats, to get Brec to go along with this. They were embroiled together for hours after I sent Brec to her. Come to that, it took me enough time to talk Laff into assisting."

"She clearly wasn't happy." the Queen observed.

"I'd have thought she'd be more eager for her chance to lead the war-band."

"I've always suspected she taunted Tevi more to persuade herself of her dislike than anyone else. I only hope she doesn't blame us too much." the Queen said thoughtfully.

"Why should she?"

"Because I blame myself. I keep thinking I should've been more alert, or found some way to avoid this situation."

"I don't think it was ever possible. Anyway, it's over now."

"Oh yes, for us." The Queen looked at her daughter with clear disapproval. "We'd better get to the celebrations before our absence becomes too marked." After one final glance around, she stalked out.

Red collected the lamp and followed slowly, addressing her last comment to the empty barn. "I still think we're well rid of her."

*****

The sound of waves rushing onto the beach echoed softly on the night air. Stars peeked between torn shreds of clouds. Tevi lay on the sand in the lea of her boat, wrapped in an old wool blanket. She was warm and comfortable enough, but could not sleep. The scene she had made kept running through her head. It had gone much easier than expected. Carried by the pain of rejection and betrayal, her vehemence surprised even those expecting the speech. People had sat stunned, some with jaws hanging open. The Goddess alone knew what the women from Rathshorn had made of it.

Throughout it all her mother had stared at the ground, lips compressed in a tight line. Laff's eyes had darted nervously, not resting on anything but particularly avoiding Tevi. No doubt some added Laff's guilty expression to the fresh bruise on Tevi's face and drawn the wrong conclusions as to what had prompted Tevi's outburst. There had been no sign of Brec. Only the Queen dared meet Tevi's glare, but that ancient face, schooled by decades of intrigue, had given no indication of her thoughts.

The surge of emotion had carried Tevi on. Fired by her determination to get away, she had gone further than required, swearing by earth, wind and water, not to eat another mouthful nor sleep another night under her family's roof, until she returned with the stolen chalice. Now it was all over, her rage had faded and she was alone with her boat on the beach.

She placed a hand on the wooden planks of the hull, a small fishing boat, barely fifteen feet in length. Normally it held a crew of four but, without the need to handle nets, Tevi knew she would have no trouble sailing alone. Her grandmother had not said she could take it, but she could hardly be expected to leave Storenseg on foot. It would take only a day to stock the boat for the voyage and gather her few belongings, then she would be gone - forever.

In the distance, the sounds of the feast were dying down. Only the occasional barked laugh or chorus of song disturbed the peace. The revellers were going to their beds. The poorest, the slaves and outcasts, would sleep in rough shacks on the edge of Holric. The more fortunate would enter their family halls. In the Queen's house, the members of her family - cousins, aunts and nieces, would be settling around the fire. At the edges men of the household who were not claimed by a woman, would sleep with the babies and young children snuggled to them for warmth.

In that hall, Tevi had slept virtually every night since she was born. She could envisage the scene. Many of the elder ones, overcome by drink, would already be snoring loudly. The younger girls, too excited to fall asleep quickly, would be whispering jokes and gossip. The silence would also be disturbed by people making their way to and from the village midden, with sharp oaths when they drunkenly tripped over an out-flung foot or arm. And then there would be the quiet noises of women, amusing themselves with their choice of man for the night, the only privacy coming from darkness and custom. Only if someone created too much disturbance would anything be said and even then it would be one of the standard, age-worn clichés, no names mentioned, addressed to the room in general. It would be appalling rudeness to watch or make comment, but of course everyone knew who every woman's lover was. Tevi realised she had been beguiled by the etiquette. It must have been so obvious that she always slept alone.

Even great-aunt Wirry, toothless and deaf, had taken a man four or five times a year, right up to the month of her death. It had strained convention almost to the limit, only her great age sparing her. Like most deaf people, she underestimated the volume of her own voice. Tevi recalled one occasion when Wirry had snapped out. "What do you think you're doing now?" It was in the days before hostility had grown between the two sisters. Laff had been close by. She rolled over and whispered a suggested answer so outrageous Tevi had been forced to bite on her arm to stop from laughing aloud.

The memory cut Tevi like a knife to the heart. Never again would she sleep in her family hall. She rolled onto her back and lay, staring upwards. By now the village was almost silent. Tevi could hear the sea-grass whispering in the breeze, and then the sound of uncertain footsteps approaching.

She slipped from her blanket and crouched in the shadow of the boat. In the faint light she could see a silhouette, standing on the sand a few yards away. Tevi started to fumble for her knife, suddenly worried that her grandmother might be putting another plan into effect.

"Tevi?" It was a quiet male voice.

"Who is it?"

At that moment, the moon drifted clear of the cloud, illuminating the beach and, even as she recognised Sparrow, he leapt forward and dived into her arms. Tevi was surprised to realise he was crying.

"They say you're going." Sparrow said between sobs.

"That's true." Tevi said.

"Please don't."

"I've sworn an oath, I can't break my word."

Sparrow pulled back a little and sat upright. He turned his face from her. In the moonlight his half grown beard was almost invisible and Tevi could see Brec's nose, and Brec's high check bone. She had always known where the attraction she found in Sparrow lay.

"You're going to get Abrak's chalice." Sparrow said.

"That's what I said."

"How will you find it? I was in the square the day it was stolen. This big black bird just picked it up and flew straight out to sea. They say it was heading back to a sorcerer on the mainland. The chalice could be anywhere, how will you know where to look?"

Tevi did not know how to reply. There was no sensible answer to the question. In the end she mumbled, "I'll talk to people on the mainland when I get there. Find someone who knows."

"Take me with you."

"Don't be silly."

"I mean it." Sparrow said earnestly.

"I'm leaving the islands. It's no place for a man." Tevi looked at him curiously. "Why do you want to go?"

"I like you. You're not like all the other women."

Tevi groaned inwardly.

Sparrow dug holes in the sand with his fingers as he continued. "All the men like you. You talk to us as if you're interested. The other women pester us, some won't leave us alone, but you're the only one who acts as if you actually like men - as people, as if you want to be our friend."

Tevi tried to cover her surprise. "I've got to leave Storenseg, and I can't take you with me. The other women here - they like men really. You'll be safe here with them."

"I'd rather be with you."

"You can't come with me." Tevi said gently.

"I'll miss you." Sparrow was crying again.

Tevi put her arm around his shoulder. "I'll miss you too."

Sparrow continued pushing the sand back and forth, while he built up courage for his next sentence. "Can I spend the night here with you? To remember you." Tentatively, he reached for her hand.

This time Tevi groaned out loud and raised her eyes to the sky. Somewhere there was a goddess with a very poor sense of humour.

Sparrow drew back, hurt by her response. "You do like me, don't you?"

"Yes I do, but... look, if things hadn't turned out how they did I would have..." Biting her tongue, Tevi let the sentence trail off. She searched desperately for something to say. "I've got to go, and I don't know when I'll be back. It would be best if you tried to forget me and sleeping with me tonight won't help. Also I don't know what's ahead of me, but I'd rather face it without the chance of being pregnant."

Sparrow looked as if he still wanted to argue. Tevi did not give him the chance. "I think you should go back to your grandmother's. I'll escort you."

Nothing was said as they walked to the village. At the entrance to Lizard's family hall they stopped. The square was empty except for them. Tevi was tall for a woman, her face level with Sparrow's. Tears were forming in his eyes. On a sudden impulse, she took hold of his shoulders and pulled him to her. They kissed for a while. His arms slowly tightened around her as they explored each other's mouths. For a moment Tevi was tempted to change her decision. At least Sparrow wanted her. Yet, finally she pushed them apart gently. Sparrow stepped back, looking as if he was about to speak, but instead turned and disappeared into the hall.

Tevi slowly walked back to the beach. The moon lit the familiar landmarks in harsh tones of black and white. She was overwhelmed by an unbearable sense of loss. This was the only world she'd ever known; the fact she didn't much like it hardly mattered.

Chapter 3: The Market Porter

The middle aged man stood half a head taller than most. The first fanning of white hair at his temples accentuated his sharp features. Laugh lines around his mouth spoke of an active sense of humour, but he was not smiling at the moment. He wove between the jumble of stalls in the Torhafn market square, surveying the scene around him with a grim expression.

The man, Verron, was aware that the good quality of his clothing was attracting attention. He could see the eyes of stall-holders light up as he approached, all hoping for a profitable sale. To his mind, the traders of Torhafn market were no more honest than the would-be pickpockets who were also sizing him up, anticipating a well-filled purse. Both groups were wasting their time. Verron was far too experienced to fall easy prey to the cheap tricks of market thieves. He had seen it all before, many times, but this did not mean he felt comfortable with his surroundings.

During his career as a Protectorate trader Verron had been to many of the less attractive spots the world had to offer, however Torhafn never ceased to impress him with its corrupt squalor. The whole place was a product of vicious greed - brutal and crass. If a more sordid town existed anywhere in the world, then Verron had no desire to see it, and particularly not after nightfall.

Centuries ago Torhafn had been an elegant capital, the centre of a sorcerer's empire. The sorcerer and the empire were now long gone - only the ruins remained. The town huddled around its harbour, squatting amidst the ancient masonry. Above the shabby market place, with its potholes and stench of rotting fish, the rooftops still held their original outline, but timber and mud shacks now encrusted the lower walls. In the middle of the square two rows of broken columns raised themselves above a field of dirty cotton awnings, like the clean white rib-bones of an ox, protruding from the earth at the spot where the animal had met its end. Filth smeared the cobbles underfoot.

A stall-holder held a length of patterned material out across Verron's path, flapping it gently to further attract his attention. Verron neatly dodged both the vendor and his goods. There was nothing on sale in the market he needed, and he did not have time to waste.

Numerous roads and alleys led off from the square. Most were narrow and dark and dangerous to walk down alone. Tightly packed slums formed the major part of Torhafn. Verron left the market on one of the wider streets; the better visibility at least allowed him to spot trouble approaching. Fortunately, he did not have to go far before he found what he was looking for.

A small group of mercenary warriors stood at a crossroads. The backs of their hands were tattooed with the red and gold swords of the Protectorate guild. Their leather jerkins bore the badge of the recently formed Torhafn militia. The eldest was a thickset, granite-faced man, whose tattooed hands were never far from his sword's hilt. As he approached the group Verron made sure his own hands were clearly visible and well away from any potential hidden weapon.

"Well met, fellow citizens. I'm Verron of Cottersford, a member of the Merchants' guild."

The mercenaries assessed him for a few seconds before the eldest replied. "Well met, fellow citizen. Can we assist you?" The mercenary's tone was polite but cautious.

"I hope so. I see you've all taken contract with the local militia, but I wonder if you know where I can find some your comrades who would still be available for hire?"

"No chance of that, I'm afraid." the mercenary said.

"Surely there must be some."

"Not with how things stand right now."

Verron raised his eyebrows, inviting the speaker to continue.

"The local bosses have hired every able-bodied warrior who can tell one end of a sword from the other." The mercenary shrugged as he spoke.

"And a few who can't." another mercenary chipped in, contempt evident in her voice.

Verron's lips twisted in a rueful pout. "From the tone of your voice I get the feeling that all the recruitment activity isn't part of an attempt to crack down on local crime."

Several of the mercenaries snorted in amusement. The atmosphere eased noticeably.

"You've got the right idea." the eldest mercenary said.

"So what is the situation at the moment?"

"What was the last you heard?"

"Before we left the Protectorate we heard the town council had created a proper militia to police the area. Has something changed?"

"Town council is an awfully grand name to give the bunch of thieves who run this place."

"You don't sound very fond of them." Verron said ironically. The councillors were not his idea of pleasant company either.

"I wish I'd never come here. I just hope I get to serve out my contract and leave with the same number of arms and legs I started with." Several of the other mercenaries nodded their agreement. The eldest went on. "Like you I'd heard they were forming a town militia so, like a fool, I came over the Aldraks and signed on. As for the current situation, I don't know whether they started with good intentions, but half a dozen gangsters have taken control of the so-called council. It's my guess they're going to try and use us to remove a bit of the competition. Now everyone is hiring bodyguards. I've never minded a good brawl, but when the blood starts flowing here it's going to be knives in the back down dark alleys." The man's jaw clenched in anger. "I'm a warrior, not a murderer."

Verron pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling like a fool. He had enough experience of the place to know better. He should have guessed.

"With all the contact with the Protectorate, you'd have thought some of the civilisation would have rubbed off." another mercenary chipped in.

Verron shook his head, "Hardly. In fact quite the opposite. Torhafn just soaks up the worst the Protectorate has to offer. A large section of the population got here by fleeing justice in the Protectorate. Once over the Aldrak Mountains they tend to stick around - the rest of Walderim is reasonably law-abiding and wouldn't put up with their nasty habits. Torhafn acts like a magnet for criminals. Most of the trade between Walderim and the Protectorate goes through here on its way over the Aldraks. There's a lot of easy money to be made."

"You sound as if you're familiar with the town." The eldest mercenary spoke again.

"Only too well. We've been through every spring for the last five years - and we're always pleased to get away. Normally we contract guild mercenaries before leaving the Protectorate, but when we heard a militia had been formed, we decided to wait until we got here before hiring guards. With hindsight it was incredibly silly of us, given what we know about Torhafn." Verron sighed. "I suppose it would be even more silly to ask if you're ever sent out to patrol the surrounding countryside?"

"You're right. It would be a very silly question." the mercenary said.

"So you wouldn't know if there's been any bandit activity on the road between here and Scathberg?" Verron asked.

"That's where you're heading?"

Verron glanced over his shoulder to make sure there were no eavesdroppers before he answered. "Yes. We leave tomorrow."

The mercenary screwed up his face while he searched his memory. "There's been no trouble for over a month, that we've heard of. If it's any comfort, all the local bandits seem to have come into Torhafn to join the militia and other gangs. The town is set to explode. The hills are probably deserted - only the odd rogue out there. Are you in a large group?"

"Just my partner and two of our children."

"Are your kids old enough to be much use in a fight?"

"No. They're just ten and fourteen. Last year we had our eldest with us. She's handy with a crossbow, but she's joined the Ostlers' guild and stayed behind in the Protectorate. We've got the youngster along in her place." Verron could not restrain his grimace. The presence of his youngest child made it so much harder to risk the road to Scathberg without an adequate escort.

"You could go back to the Protectorate." the mercenary suggested.

"We can't afford to abandon this year's trade cycle."

The mercenary's expression was thoughtful. "One of our captains is in town. Given the circumstances he might sell you a dispensation to hire non-guild guards."

"And we both know that wouldn't be a cheap option either. Moreover I wouldn't trust any non-guild warrior that I picked up here. I'm afraid we're are going to have to just take a chance."

"Oh well, we mercenaries know all about that."

"I guess so, but thank-you anyway for your time."

"I'm sorry we couldn't be more help. I wish you a safe journey." The faces of the mercenaries looked genuinely sympathetic as they parted.

On his route back to the market, Verron's eyes frequently strayed up to the fortified mansions on the hills overlooking the town. These were the homes of the various gang-leaders that ruled Torhafn and the source of much of the evil that embraced the town. On previous visits, Verron had met some of the bosses. The elegance of their homes gave them a veneer of respectability, but always hard-eyed henchmen stood by, ready to follow any order.

The rest of Walderim, sandwiched between the Aldraks and the sea, was as civilised a land as could be found outside the Protectorate, but Torhafn was an ugly blemish on the country. It would, no doubt, stay that way until Walderim became part of the Protectorate. Already a sizeable proportion of the inhabitants were keen to join. So far they were still a minority, but everyone knew it was only a question of time. One day a threat would come out of the Western Ocean, sufficient to frighten the inhabitants into giving up their independence, swearing allegiance to the Coven at Lyremouth and paying taxes to its sorcerers. Verron sighed - it could not happen too soon for his liking.

The two wagons with their cargo of merchandise still stood where he had left them, at the richer end of the market square outside the entrance to a warehouse. From their alert posture it was obvious his two sons, Derry and Kimal, were taking their guard duties seriously. Yet Verron knew the safety of the cargo lay more with the protection money the warehouse owner was paying to one of the local gangs - at least, the money he hoped the owner was paying. The two boys smiled at the sight of their father.

"How's the haggling going?" Verron asked as he drew close.

"Last time I looked in the merchant had tears in her eyes. I think it was something to do with her starving children. But I expect mama will get the best of it, in the end." fourteen year old Kimal answered with a grin.

"I expect so too. She usually does." Verron agreed.

He refrained from sticking his head through the doorway to witness the state of the bargaining for himself. Over the years, he and his partner had reached a good working relationship, with the verbal side of the business handled by Marith on her own. When money was involved, his partner could release a dramatic flow of rhetoric that would reduce Verron to a fit of giggles if he listened for long. Marith was a trader to the very core of her being and haggling was her favourite pastime. She would argue up the price of their goods as if her life depended on it. It wasn't that she was grasping or incapable of generosity, more that she took enormous professional pride in never parting with a penny more than she needed to. However her better judgement could sometimes be lacking - it had been mainly at Marith's urging they had delayed hiring the guards.

Verron leaned his back against the wall and tried to ease the frown from his face. He knew it was not fair to blame Marith for their present situation, and they would most likely reach Scathberg without meeting any criminal more menacing than an innkeeper who watered down the beer. More immediate was the danger that, caught in the passion of her bargaining, Marith would lose track of time. Nightfall was less than an hour away. For the sake of a few small coppers, they should not run the risk of trying to reach their lodgings after sunset.

Already sun was low in the sky and shadows in the miserable alleys were hardening. The business of the market was closing down for the day. Stall-holders shouted frantically; the perishable goods that were not sold would be wasted. Even in Torhafn, it was hard to make a profit from rotten fish. Last minute bargain-hunters moved from stall to stall, although the press of the crowd was dispersing.

The remaining people were poorer, more wretched and, if not more villainous, probably more desperate. Around the edge of the market stood groups of vagrants and casual labourers, still hopeful of a little more work. Verron ran his eyes over them, estimating their capacity for trouble. Most looked like deserters from a zombie army; the rest looked drunk. As the first carts got ready for departure, the vagrants started to move in, searching the rubbish for anything of value.

Verron was just reaching the decision to join Marith and try to speed the negotiations when he heard movement behind him. The hanging over the doorway was pulled aside.

"Your partner drives a hard bargain." the warehouse owner said in rueful tones as she emerged.

"Oh I know." Verron agreed.

Marith smiled at him as she passed, taking his words as a compliment, which in truth they were. Verron knew he would not succeed in trade half so well without her. Marith's light-brown hair fell around her face in child-like curls, her body bordering on the plump, but her sweet-tempered, motherly exterior housed the keenest business mind Verron had ever met.

As he joined her by one of the wagons she asked, "Did you find some guards?"

Verron shook his head. "There are local difficulties. We need to talk things over, but there isn't time now. Let's get the crates into the warehouse."

Marith accepted his words and turned back to the warehouse owner. "We'll need to hire four labourers to unload the wagons."

"Let's make it eight. It's not long till dusk." Verron interjected.

"We don't want to hire more than necessary."

"I think we might splash out a bit for once."

From her expression, Marith was not convinced. However, the warehouse owner prevented any further debate by announcing, "Well, if she's free, you'll only need one porter." The woman scanned the clusters of people standing around the market square, then raised her voice to a shout. "TEVI."

A young woman detached herself from a nearby group of casual labourers and jogged towards them. In the evening light, her hair was dark, almost black. It lay in a spiky fringe, uncombed and hacked short. Her face and hands were grimy. She was dressed in rough, homespun material, however the clothes were far less ragged than those of the other market porters. Rather than barefoot, she had open sandals on her feet, and, even more unusual, her brown eyes met Verron's with an honest candour as she came to a halt.

The warehouse owner gestured at the wagons and said, "These folk want their goods unloaded into my warehouse before the watch calls seven. Do you reckon you can do it?"

The porter looked up at the sky as if evaluating the time available. "Sure." she said confidently. "Standard rate for the job?"

Marith looked confused but nodded silently. However, Verron could not stop from protesting, "Those crates are heavy, it took two men to just lift them."

"I can probably handle it." the porter said.

The warehouse owner winked and drew Verron out of the way. "Just watch."

The porter went to the first wagon and pulled on one crate gently, testing the weight. Then, in one fluid movement, she swung it off the back of the wagon and walked towards the doorway, carrying the load with little sign of effort. Verron felt his jaw sag open.

One by one the crates disappeared into the warehouse as the porter went on to empty both wagons, well within the allotted time. Verron watched in astonishment. The woman was tall and sturdily built, but certainly not muscle-bound. There was nothing about her to indicate the source of her strength. Once the last crate was safely stored the porter walked back to the two traders, brushing the dust from her clothes. There was only the faintest sheen of sweat on her forehead.

"I think that's three copper bits you owe me." The porter held out her hand, although she seemed a little uncomfortable.

Marith dug into her money pouch and pulled out the coins. Before the porter closed her hand, Verron added another three from his own purse. "For the entertainment value."

"Oh. That comes free of charge." the porter said, smiling.

"I'm sure you could use the extra." Verron insisted.

"I offered to work for the standard rate."

"You're still a lot cheaper than hiring another seven of your fellows."

The porter looked a little guilty, but then shrugged. "All right. I'll try and find a good home for the money." Her voice was a soft lilting drawl, an accent Verron could not place, for all his years of travelling. She gave a respectful nod to the adults, a broad grin to Kimal and Derry, then strolled back across the square.

Verron turned to the warehouse owner. "Who is she?"

"Some youngster out to seek fame and fortune. She arrived by boat, just over a month ago. I can't see her staying around long. She's too naive. I mean, when did you last have to offer money to a porter twice?" the warehouse owner's voice held something like astonishment.

"That won't last in Torhafn." Marith said pointedly.

"True enough. And she's far too honest - not that there's anything wrong with honesty of course." The warehouse owner added quickly, remembering she was talking to business associates.

"But how is she so strong? It must be magic." Verron persisted.

The warehouse owner nodded. "Someone said she comes from an island way off to the west. They brew a magic potion which does it."

That bit of information caught Marith's attention immediately. "Do you think they'd be interested in trading for it?"

*****

The coins jingled in Tevi's hand as she walked back across the square. They felt hard, cold and alien to her - rather like Torhafn itself. Money was not unknown the on islands, but she was not at ease with its general usage. In Torhafn it bought everything from food and clothes to a mooring site on the quay, even the use of someone's body for the night - if you were so minded. With money, you could get whatever you wanted. Without it, you could starve. Nothing seemed to matter to the townsfolk, except how much of it you had. To Tevi, money had come to mark the absence of trust, of honour, of family. She was tempted to simply open her hand and drop the distasteful coins to lie among the other debris of the market square.

The onset of dusk had sent most of the other porters to their homes. One ragged group remained, squatting on the steps of the tax-office, heads close together in conversation. They watched Tevi go by, hostility marked on their faces. One spat into the dust after she had passed, venting his resentment. Tevi had earned more on the last job than some had made all day. Her strength and sobriety made her the first choice of the market traders. It also meant there was little the other porters dared do to express their feelings. In her first days at the market a few had tried to intimidate her. Tevi had been more than equal to the challenge, and now she received nothing worse than scowls and muttered comments.

However not everyone was unfriendly. As she was leaving the market square an elderly voice called out, "Hey, Tevi!"

Tevi smiled on hearing the cry, and sauntered over to where old Aigur sat on a low wall, with two of her numerous grandsons in attendance. The elderly woman headed an enormous and diffuse family, with members scattered through all spheres of Torhafn life - few of them legal. Aigur had taken unconcealed pleasure in seeing the rout of the market bullies. Realising the young islander was unversed in the workings of the world, she had taken Tevi under her wing, giving freely of her lifetime's store of advice on what to do and not to do - although chiefly the latter. Despite her sharp tongue and questionable morality, Aigur was easily Tevi's favourite person in Torhafn.

Aigur gave a broad, toothless grin as Tevi stopped before her. A heavy blanket shielded her creaking joints from the evening's chill. Her hair was white, her face etched deep with wrinkles, but her eyes were as sharp as those of her teenaged grandsons.

"So, how have you faired today?" she asked.

"Not bad." On impulse, Tevi held out the six copper coins to her. "Here, I've got a present for you."

Aigur looked exasperated. "Don't be a fool. You can't go around giving money away."

"Why not? I've got more than I need and you've got more mouths to feed than me."

"That's not the point." Aigur snapped.

"Yes it is. It will help me sleep easier tonight." Tevi said with amusement.

"If you give money away for no reason people will think you're a fool."

"So?"

"Fools make good targets."

"Then what do I do with money I don't want?" Tevi asked, not entirely in jest.

The elderly woman sighed and gestured to her grandsons. "If you're hell-bent on generosity why don't you take these two layabouts to an inn and treat them? That way you'll save me the expense of feeding tonight them and I can still feel free to get ratty when they come home singing."

Tevi was about to argue when she saw the hopeful expressions on the young men's faces. "All right, have it your way." she said.

The two grandsons, Derag and Joran, eagerly leapt to Tevi's side. With an amused snort Aigur rose and tottered off towards her crowded home on the edge of town. Her stooped figure was soon lost from sight around a bend in the alley.

Tevi looked at the two youths. "Well boys, where would you like to go?"

After a quick exchange of looks, Joran answered for the pair. "How about 'The Silver Mermaid'?"

*****

A battered pewter tankard was dumped in front of Tevi. The momentum of its arrival caused a little of the beer to slop over the top and roll down onto the stained boards of the table. For a second Tevi sat staring at it, making no attempt to touch the tankard. The metal was dull-grey and pockmarked. It caught the light with the same sheen Tevi remembered from Abrak's chalice, taunting her in a fleeting vision of someday finding the heirloom and returning home.

She clenched her teeth, biting back the wave of homesickness. The chalice was irrelevant; with or without it there was no going back. At her shoulder, the barman cleared his throat impatiently, reminding her of the need to pay. Tevi offered one of her coins, accepted a smaller one in change, then picked up her beer from the table and sampled a mouthful. The barman slouched back towards the counter. Derag and Joran grabbed their drinks enthusiastically.

While surveying the tavern, Tevi slowly sipped her beer, pacing herself carefully. She did not intend to get drunk and risk wandering around Torhafn at night without her wits about her - one of Aigur's many gems of advice. The barroom had a low ceiling, with smoke blackened rafters. The tables and benches were sturdy but well worn. Underfoot the stone floor was sticky from spilt beer. The clientele appeared to be a fair cross section of the lower ranks of Torhafn society, except that the atmosphere was jovial and friendly, which in Tevi's experience was quite unusual for the town. After a few unpleasant encounters she had avoided social contact with the townsfolk whenever possible - Aigur's family excluded. Tevi decided however, leaning her elbows on the table, that the inn the two young men had selected was a pleasant enough place to spend a few hours.

On the bench beside her, Derag and Joran were loudly debating the merits of the different ales available in the town. They were happy and relaxed, giving voice to their opinions with a forthright vigour that, on the islands, would have been considered unseemly for men. Tevi watched with amusement. She was trying hard to come to terms with the men of the mainland. In her first few days in Torhafn she had formed the opinion that, by shaving their faces, the men were trying to imitate the opposite sex. They certainly seemed, to her eyes, to act like women. She now recognised this was far too simple an analysis, especially as nobody seemed at all concerned when, at times, women chose to act in a manner the islanders would have considered masculine.

It was also received poorly if she treated the men of Torhafn with the patronising gallantry considered good manners on the islands. Tevi had soon learned it was best to deal with each clean shaven face as if it belonged to a woman - a trick which did not require the same level of mental gymnastics as it would on Storenseg. Without beards and the distinctive styles of dress and behaviour, Tevi found it very hard to tell men and women apart. She was often still uncertain of a person's gender, even after several minutes of conversation. On other occasions she had been led to form a definite opinion one way, only to have subsequent events prove her wrong. The mainlander's flexible use of pronouns, titles and other gender specific words made her job even harder, although it did allow her to disguise her confusion.

"That old gut-rot! It's awful." Tevi's thoughts were interrupted as Joran dug her with his elbow. "What do you say, Tevi? Have you ever drunk the cat's piss they serve in the Red Dragon?"

Tevi tried not to wince at the sound of the crude phrase coming from a male mouth. "I don't think so."

"You're lucky. I can guarantee it'd be the worst thing you've ever tasted."

Tevi smiled. "That's quite a claim. I doubt that anything could out-do the potion they give girls in the Western Isles."

"Is that the one that makes you so strong?" Derag asked.

"Came close to making me throw up as well sometimes."

"Even so, I'd happily down a bucket-full." The young man sighed wistfully. "What do you reckon, if we sailed out there, do you think your family would sell us some?"

"Absolutely no chance." Tevi shook her head. "And anyway, it wouldn't do you any good. You have to take it regularly when you're still a child. It doesn't work so well for boys even then."

Derag's shoulders slumped slightly. "It would be great though. Do you remember the way you dealt with fat Barbo? Grandma still smiles when she remembers it."

"I tried not to hurt him." Tevi said regretfully.

"I know. That's what made it so insulting for Barbo."

Joran joined in. "Why should you worry about hurting him? In your place I'd have flattened the bastard."

"It's the way I was brought up. Women on the islands are so much stronger than men, that it's seen as cowardly to hit them. I hated doing it, but Barbo gave me no option. He had me cornered on the quay, and wouldn't let me apologise - I hadn't meant to offend him."

"So you picked him up like a sack of flour and tossed him twenty feet out into the harbour." Joran's words were almost lost in his grin.

"What else could I do?"

"Actually, what really amused grandma was when you realised he couldn't swim - the way you dived in, dragged him out, and then offered to escort him home to his parents to explain how he'd got so wet." Both the young men dissolved into laughter at the memory.

When he had calmed down Derag said "You know, you're getting quite a name in town, people are..."

Whatever else he might have been about to say was swallowed by a sudden burst of noise from the far corner of the room. All heads turned in the direction of the disturbance. A large crew of dock workers were cheering on one of their comrades who had left their table and was heading across the floor. From his size, Tevi was sure it was a man. His shoulders and arms were knotted with muscle; his head almost brushed the rafters, towering over the seated patrons of the tavern. He did not look angry but, to Tevi's dismay, his eyes were fixed on her. The noise level on the other tables fell to a quiet murmur of anticipation. Tevi placed her hands flat on the table and pushed her bench back slightly, readying herself for possible action. However when the man reached her table he squeezed onto the bench opposite and smiled in a friendly fashion. Tevi took very little reassurance from this.

The man cleared his throat. "Good evening."

"Good evening." Tevi replied.

"I've heard that you reckon you're the strongest person in town." His voice was a deep base rumble.

"I make no claims." Tevi said, uncertainly.

"Then others do it for you."

"I can't help what people say."

"That's true." He looked at Tevi from under his bushy eyebrows, as if appraising her, "Well, there's a game we play in these parts. It's called arm wrestling..."

His sentence was cut off as Derag whooped and slammed his palms loudly on the table. "You'll slaughter him Tevi."

One of the man's friends shouted back, "Three tin halves says she doesn't."

"You're on."

Tevi interrupted the betting. "I'm not going to fight you."

"It's just arm-wrestling." the man said.

"And that isn't fighting?" Tevi's voice revealed her confusion.

"Oh no. You see, it's just a test of strength."

The excited chaos in the tavern was such that it took the stranger and Joran between them some minutes to explain the rules to a perplexed Tevi. At last, she understood what was involved. She studied the man. His arm would have served most people as a leg, she doubted that she could have joined the fingers of both hands around his biceps. In an assured manner he rested his elbow on the table and smiled at her while around the room people stood on benches and tables to get a better view.

"Are you on?" he asked.

She frowned. "It's no contest."

"You concede defeat?"

Joran nudged her. "Go on Tevi."

There was no easy way to refuse, so Tevi sighed, "All right then." She positioned her elbow on the table next to the man's, stretching to grasp his hand. "Now I just push?"

Without speaking the stranger nodded and started to apply pressure. His bulk was evidently muscle rather than fat, however Tevi had no problem keeping her hand steady. While he strained Tevi considered her opponent thoughtfully - he really was very strong for a man. His jaw was clenched. Veins stood out like rope on his arms and forehead. His face was so contorted that the lids were half closed. His breath came in raw, hissing gasps. Apart from this, the room was silent.

It was possibly the absence of sound from Tevi that finally alerted her opponent. His gaze shifted to her face. The man's expression changed slowly to disbelief as he realised that she was not even exerting herself. Tevi meet his eyes and shook her head slowly. A smile twitched the corner of her mouth. In a swift jerk she cracked his hand down hard onto the table and released her grip, leaving her opponent rubbing his bruised knuckles. The audience exploded into uproar.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" Tevi asked, suddenly contrite that maybe she had overdone the force.

The man held out his hand to examine the backs of his knuckles. The skin had been broken slightly and was starting to show red. His expression was one of utter bewilderment. His friends in the corner were muttering among themselves. For a moment, Tevi wondered if he would try to make trouble but then he threw back his head and roared with laughter.

With a beaming smile he pointed at her half empty mug and asked, "What do you want to drink?"

Chapter 4: Torhafn by Night

By the time she left the Silver Mermaid it was considerably later than Tevi had intended and, as her feet stumbled on the uneven cobbles, she realised she had drunk a little more than was wise. Not that she had any serious fears; dressed in the common clothes of the islands, soiled by work in the market, she hardly presented the appearance to attract the attention of the professional thief and, even in her present, slightly tipsy state, Tevi felt she could cope with the amateur opportunist.

Night had long since fallen and most doors were locked and shuttered. However the narrow, rubbish filled streets surrounding the docks were not deserted. Surly individuals posed aggressively at intersections, their faces lost in deep shadow. Drunken gangs of youths whispered among themselves in the light of the occasional torch, their voices breaking into shouts as they spotted friends or rivals. One fight broke out as Tevi passed through an open courtyard, but no one attempted to waylay her.

Derag was right to say she was acquiring a name in Torhafn. She had been quite pleased about it; it meant, as a result, that trouble generally left her alone. However, as that night's challenge had shown, notoriety could also attract attention. So far, her reputation had not gone beyond the circle of quay and market but, if the bosses atop the hills got to hear of her, there might well be attempts at recruitment, or elimination. It was a possibility for the future she had to consider. In the meantime, for the benefit of anyone watching with robbery in mind, she straightened her shoulders and walked purposefully through the darkened town, back to her boat, moored on the east wharf with the houseboats and the poorest fishing craft.

The east wharf was one of the more depressing parts, of a generally depressing town. The poverty, both material and spiritual, was sharply visible. Few of the craft were sea-worthy. Many were little more than lashed together rafts, the occupants of which lived in flimsy shacks tacked precariously on the deck. The area swarmed with rats and other vermin, some of it two legged. Rubbish and filth floated in what little scum-covered water could be seen between the jostling boats. Everywhere there were wide-eyed children, ragged and hungry.

The inhabitants of the wharf formed a tightly knit community, spending the whole day in and out of each other's boats. Tevi had given up trying to make sense of their family structure, deciding that it was either non-existent, or so complex and interwoven as to be incomprehensible to the outsider. Throughout the day, the air would be filled with shouts. The people seemed to need to conduct their lives at high volume to compensate for the other deficiencies.

At night Tevi would lie in the bottom of her boat, listening to the sound of cold water slopping against the hull, the creaking of timbers and the dull knock of wood on wood as boats rolled together. The only human sound would be that of a baby crying or the distant shrieking of a couple, raising their voices in domestic strife. She desperately wished she was somewhere else, but had no idea where to find anything better. In Torhafn, she had a mooring and an income, for the summer at least. Perhaps autumn would be a good time to leave the town - if she could stand it that long. Tevi paused for a moment and looked back along the squalid, filthy street - there was little she would miss about the town when she left.

Eventually she emerged from the smothering crush of houses into the comparative open of the dockside. The usual assortment of people was visible, moving to and fro between the pools of light given off by oil-soaked torches. There were guards patrolling the warehouses, vagrants curled in dark corners, a few sailors coming back from the town and whores trying to attract their attention as they passed. Further down the quay dockers were loading a ship, working into the night so the vessel would be ready to depart on the dawn tide.

Tevi passed a lamp that smoked and guttered in the offshore wind. She stood on the pockmarked flagstones and breathed in deeply. The rising moon reflected off the water on the horizon. Closer in, bands of surf showed luminous white in the moonlight. The sound of the waves was gentle, calming, and somehow honest. Tevi reached a sudden decision - tomorrow she would give the market a miss and take her boat out fishing. In the freedom of the ocean, perhaps she could find both fresh air and peace.

The renewed bounce in her step carried Tevi swiftly along the dockside. She jumped over a coiled rope on the wharf and rounded the last warehouse. Her boat's mooring was less than twenty yards further along the quay, although the craft itself was lost from sight between the larger houseboats. For once, the east wharf was peaceful - quiet enough that her ears could pick up the desperate sobbing from the depths of a nearby stack of rubbish. The sound of crying was not uncommon on the quay. Tevi almost ignored it, and intended only the briefest glance in passing. She had no wish to be drawn into one of the petty feuds between the inhabitants of the houseboats.

The source of the noise was a young child of ten or so, huddled between two broken crates, head sunk on knees. The pitiful misery of the sight brought Tevi to a halt. Common-sense and all of Aigur's advice told her to keep on walking, but that night her sense of caution was dulled by the beer.

She went over to the child and knelt down, "It's not that bad, surely?"

A tear-streaked face was raised to hers. The first thing she realised was that the boy was not from the boats - he was too clean, too well fed. He gulped for air but "Lost." was all he could manage to say.

"And how did you get lost?" Tevi asked gently.

"Don't know." The downturn of his eyes gave rise to a strong suspicion that this was not the entire truth.

Tevi sat back on her heels and considered the boy. The inhabitants of Torhafn were always ready to leap to the worst conclusions and mistrust was second nature to the townsfolk. Tevi knew she could expect few thanks and even a charge of kidnapping if she were found with the child, yet her thoughts drew her back to the islands, where everyone was known and recognised. A stray boy would have been quickly taken back to his family hall. Tears came to her eyes as she wished she could be a child again - that somebody would come and take her home, back to Storenseg.

Tevi turned her face to stare inland. The dark, menacing bulk of the town spread out before her, full of locked doors and strangers. She looked up and down the length of the wharf, and then took a deep breath and stood.

She held out her hand to the boy saying, "Come on. Let's go and find your parents."

*****

All along the eastern wharf decayed, ramshackle jetties projected over the polluted water, spaced at irregular intervals. The jetties were joined by lashed together catwalks that formed a web of pathways between the decrepit assortment of craft. The rough-cut planks were covered with a film of green algae that made the surface difficult to walk on by day and treacherous by night. Tevi's own small boat was moored on the sea-ward side of the swaying mass, a dozen yards from the quay, and hidden from sight between two semi-derelict river barges that now each housed several families of dock workers.

After instructing the boy to wait on the dockside Tevi cautiously sidled out along the rotten timbers. The jetty swayed beneath her feet, as the larger boats were pulled by the surge of the waves. It drew tortured creaks and groans from the piles driven into the seabed. Tevi reached the point by where her boat was tethered. The tide was out and her boat was rocking gently several feet below the level of the jetty. She gripped hold of the mooring rope in one hand then swung out over the edge and dropped down into the open end of the hull.

The boat was now her home. The mast had been lowered and a waterproof tarpaulin sheet was draped over it as a roof, protecting the rear two thirds of the boat from the elements. There was just enough space to crawl under the canvas, but it was snug, clean and adequate for her needs, particularly when judged by the standards of her neighbours.

Deep at the rear was a heap of blankets and a few spare clothes under which Tevi hid her weapons. As she scrabbled beneath them her hand closed around the scabbard of her sword. She hesitated. Aigur had given many lurid warnings about the dangers of roaming Torhafn by night. It was tempting to take the sword, yet it would be wiser to avoid confrontation. A visible weapon might attract more attention than it deterred. Surely the street gangs would not expect to make much profit from an unarmed labourer and a young boy?

There were other considerations. Tevi peered out from under the tarpaulin. Through the piles of the jetty, she could see the dark hulking shapes of other boats. A few silhouettes were moving against the night sky. In what little honour they showed, the residents of the wharf did not steal from each other, but Tevi placed no trust in this honesty. She suspected the custom owed more to the fact that the boat people owned nothing worth stealing. Since she was alone and could not guard her boat by day, she avoided displaying the few valuables she possessed. After a few more seconds of deliberation she returned the sword to its hiding place under the blankets. Instead Tevi took a long knife, which she slipped inside her jerkin, out of sight.

She rejoined the boy on the dockside and the pair of them walked back along the quay, leaving tightly packed houseboats behind. To their left the black ocean stretched out into the night. The cold wind carried the sound of unseen waves crashing in the darkness against the crumbling harbour wall. They passed two figures arguing furtively in a doorway and another staring bleakly out to sea. There were few other people about.

When they turned the corner onto the western wharf, there was a scrum of activity beside the berth of a sea-going merchant vessel, where relays of dockers were noisily manhandling bales and crates up gangplanks and into the ship's hold. Another small band stood not far away, awaiting fresh instructions while warming themselves around a crackling fire and shouting humorous but impractical advice to their fellows. The flames snapped and flared, sending a stream of sparks up into the night sky. Hunched at one side of the fire an old woman was stirring a large pot of stew. She was filthy, wrapped in layers of rags that fluttered in the wind, but the smell of the food was tempting. Tevi stopped at the woman's side. Before going any further, it might be wise to soak up the beer she had drunk.

"Is the stew for sale?" Tevi asked.

"It's for the loaders... counts as part of their pay." The old woman looked briefly at Tevi, before turning her head to scan the dockside. Her voice dropped slightly. "Why? Did you want to buy some?"

"That would be nice."

"Well, as a favour I can let you have a couple of portions for a tin half." the woman said.

"I don't want you to get into trouble."

"I made the stew. I can sell it, but don't let everyone see. I don't want the whole dockside bothering me."

Tevi smiled and passed over the coin without comment. With the two bowls in her hands, she nonchalantly strolled to a spot behind a large mound of cargo, obscured from the view of anyone aboard ship. Of course the woman was planning on pocketing the money and the term whole dockside referred specifically to the work overseers, who would be angry if they knew - not at the theft of their employer's property, but that they did not get their cut of the profit. It was the way things worked in Torhafn.

Safely out of view, Tevi and the boy sat down on an empty crate and sipped the hot stew, using crusts of stale bread as scoops. The stew was highly spiced - probably to disguise its contents. Despite this, the food was welcome and its warmth offset the night's chill. The boy's spirits had improved considerably, bolstered by the upturn in his fortune. While he ate, he looked about with interest, obviously deciding to make the most of the adventure. His eyes finally fixed on Tevi.

"I know you. You're the strong porter from the market who unloaded our wagons. My name's Derrion, but everyone calls me Derry." he said happily.

"And everyone calls me Tevi."

"Is that really your full name?"

"More or less." Her birth name was something Tevi was quite happy to have left behind on Storenseg.

In the light of the fire, Tevi now also recognised the boy from the market, despite the dirt and the streaked lines of tears that now adorned his face. His parents had been wealthy foreign traders and, to judge from the extra payment, more generous than the local townsfolk. They might even be grateful for the return of their son.

"Do you have any idea where your mother and father might be?" Tevi asked.

"Probably at the inn." Derry said after a pause for thought.

"Which inn? Can you remember its name?"

The boy considered the question gravely. "No." After a moment's thought, he added brightly, "There was a sign hanging outside though."

"And what was on the sign?"

"It was a barrel."

"I think you'll find every inn in Torhafn has a barrel outside as its symbol." Tevi said dryly.

"Really?"

"Yes." Tevi said with a deep sigh. The question and answer session could take ages.

Derry took a mouthful of stew and grinned cheerfully. "I'm not being much help, am I?"

Tevi tried a different approach. "After leaving the market, did you cross over the river?"

"Yes. And we climbed up the hill beyond, but not quite to the top." Derry said.

This was only as Tevi expected. The west side of the river Tor was the richer part of town, where the better class of inn was found, with views overlooking the bay. It was the place one would expect wealthy traders to stay, but at least the confirmation of her guess gave her somewhere to start the search.

"Do you think you'd recognise the front of the inn if you saw it again?" Tevi asked.

"Probably."

"Well then, if you've finished your stew, we might as well be off."

But, instead of moving, Derry became unaccountably dejected. "Do you think mama and papa will be angry with me?" he mumbled.

"You know your parents better than me."

"I'm going to be in big trouble." His voice was glum.

Tevi was about to assure him that no one would be too hard on a boy, but stopped. Maybe, on the mainland, a boy might be treated no more gently than a girl. Her face softened and she tussled his hair. "Even if they are angry, you can't stay here forever." Tevi said sympathetically, reaching out for his hand. "Come on, let's go."

After returning the empty bowls, Tevi led the way into the maze of houses behind the docks. The sinking moon lit the wider roads but did not penetrate the small alleys running between silent houses. There were fewer street gangs than earlier in the evening, although they were more blatantly ill-willed. They watched the pair pass with hostile eyes, but made no move to intercept them. Voices were raised in angry shouts a few streets away, then abruptly a scream cut above the sounds of fighting. Tevi was glad their route did not lead in the direction of the brawl.

The market place was now deserted as they skirted its edge on their way to the main bridge over the river. The shop-fronts and warehouses were blank and lightless. Even the gangs seemed to have melted into the darkness, leaving only a threatening silence. Derry was jittery and ill at ease. Tevi put her arm around the boy's shoulder.

"It will be better once we cross over the bridge." she said, trying to encourage him.

However, they did not get that far. The narrow passageway from the market opened out onto a riverside wharf for unloading barges. The open expanse of cobbles was about 10 yards wide and five times as long. The moon lit the side nearest the water's edge, but the shadows of warehouses covered the other side in thick darkness.

Derry suddenly grabbed her arm and pointed. "There they are." Despite his excitement, the oppressive, darkened town had affected him and his voice was barely a whisper.

Tevi followed the direction of Derry's outstretched arm and saw his parents at the far end of the wharf, near to the water's edge. That was not all she saw. The well cut clothes and obvious wealth of Derry's parents had not gone unnoticed. Silently emerging from a dark passage, half way down the wharf, were two stocky figures. The thugs crept furtively through the thick shadows, cudgels in hand. Tevi propelled the boy into a darkened doorway. "Stay here and don't make a sound." she whispered. Derry stared back at her with wide-open eyes, but said nothing.

The hilt of her knife felt reassuring as Tevi pulled it from her jerkin and slipped it into her belt. Then she too began to edge around the side of the yard, keeping to the shadows.

The two traders were deep in conversation and completely unaware of the danger when a third figure stepped into the moonlight.

"Well, well, well. What have we here?" A light, woman's voice delivered the mocking cliché with real menace.

The words jolted Derry's parents. They looked up startled and then nervously backed away - unknowingly retreating straight towards the other two thugs. At first, the other footpad stood her ground, hands on hips in jaunty belligerence, then she raised a hand and snapped her fingers. At the signal, the two accomplices stepped from the shadows, menacingly swinging their cudgels. The sound of footsteps behind them rooted the pair of traders to the ground, as they realised they were trapped. The leader of the gang began a slow advance towards her victims, clearly enjoying the game.

"Now why don't you behave yourselves, and hand over all your money, and anything else that you think I might like?"

The thieves' attention was fixed on the traders. No one noticed Tevi's stealthy approach. As the leader of the gang got to within a few feet of Derry's parents Tevi made her move, leaping forward. The nearest thug was hoisted into the air and literally hurled against the other, sending the pair of them smashing into a brick wall with a bone-breaking crack. The two collapsed to the ground in a mound of arms and legs.

Tevi did not bother to wait and see if the thugs would offer further resistance. Hopefully, Derry's parents would have the presence of mind to claim the dropped cudgels for themselves. She turned and charged past the traders, bearing down on the third thief, only to be confronted by a drawn sword.

The years of training took over. Even before Tevi realised, her knife was in her hand and outstretched before her. She dropped to a defensive stance and met the gang leader's angry eyes. The pair of them glared at each other for long seconds.

Tevi broke the silence, saying steadily, "Why don't you go and find someone else to play with?"

"Why don't you get out of my way?" For the first time the woman sounded rattled, upset by the unexpected interruption, however she was clearly not ready to back down. Slowly the two adversaries began to circle, each watching for an opening.

In icy calm Tevi reviewed Blaze's advice on how to fight when your weapon was outmatched, "Let your opponent make the moves. She'll be over-confident. She'll let her guard slip. Take no risks. Watch what she does. Wait for the mistake." It was the style of combat in which Tevi knew she was at her worst. The memory of countless defeats on the practice field assailed her, but this time her life was at stake.

The footpad's sword flicked out in a few feints to test Tevi's defence. They were amateurish efforts, easily blocked, and the sureness of Tevi's response drew a frown from her opponent. It was clear that Tevi was not an untrained novice, making free with someone's kitchen utensils. For her part Tevi was surprised at how easy it was. It was as if she could hear Blaze's voice, offering advice.

"She's going for your throat!" Blaze screamed in Tevi's ear, even as the woman made a more ambitious high thrust. In automatic reflex Tevi ducked and knocked the blade aside. She swung across sharply in riposte with her knife, and was rewarded by feeling the point make contact. The footpad gasped and lurched a few steps backwards. They both knew it was no more than a flesh wound, but the woman was unnerved and her eyes flicked anxiously around the square.

The traders were frozen in paralysis. The cudgels still lay where they had fallen. Fortunately, the two thugs were in no condition to make use of them. They had barely recovered enough to clamber to their feet, one moaning, the other hanging onto the wall. At last, this sight provoked a reaction the traders. They began to shout loudly.

"Help! Watch!"

"Call the watch!"

Tevi grimaced. Like all Torhafn residents she knew the town watch were very unlikely to come to anyone's aid, unless by chance some members of the Protectorate guild were on patrol. However the sound further alarmed her opponent.

"Shut them up." the gang leader snapped to her accomplices. However, another quick glance showed that she could expect no support from them. One appeared to have a broken arm. The other, with a blood smeared face, was still braced against the wall for support. The leader's bravado had almost completely gone, when the new sound of running feet reverberated around the walls.

The circling action had taken Tevi and her opponent through 180 degrees. Over the footpad's shoulder, Tevi could see that the approaching footsteps, amplified by the echo, belonged to Derry. He was running down the wharf, wildly swinging a wooden stake he had found. Fortunately, the thief did not stay to investigate the nature of the arriving reinforcement. She jabbed her sword forward again. Tevi parried easily, but the action forced her to step to one side as she did so. This was what the gang leader had intended, clearing her escape route. After one last wild swing of her sword she rushed past Tevi. Her figure disappeared down the same dark alley she had originally emerged from.

With the leader gone, Tevi turned to the two thugs. She gestured with her knife in their general direction. "You can clear off as well."

No second bidding was needed. The pair hobbled in pursuit of the first thief with whatever speed they could manage. The sound of their uneven footsteps faded away.

Tevi's gaze was caught by the dark smearing of blood on the tip of her knife. She looked at it thoughtfully, before wiping the blade clean on her leggings. Over by the water's edge Marith had caught hold of Derry and was simultaneously hugging him while wresting the wooden stake from his hand. Verron's face was pale in the moonlight and beaded with sweat on his upper lip, but a relieved smile was starting to spread over his features.

Tevi slipped her knife into her belt and walked towards him. Suddenly, into her head came Blaze's voice, hammering out one of her favourite lessons, "No matter how defeated she seems, never, never, never turn your back on an enemy."

Tevi spun toward the entrance of the alleyway, turning just in time to see a dark figure swinging its arm down in an arc. Without time to think Tevi pitched backward, aiming her dive to collide with Verron and knock him down. Before they had even hit the paving the thrown knife flew overhead, passing harmlessly through the space Verron had just been occupying. The knife's trajectory carried it far across the wharf before it fell to the ground and skittered across the cobbles. Tevi pushed up onto her feet at the end of the rolling dive, in a fast fluid motion. However, even before she was upright, the figure was gone.

Tevi took a long step back to steady herself, only to feel her heel hit a mooring ring anchored into the flagstones beside the water. There was the sudden knowledge that the diving roll had taken her a lot closer to the river than she had realised. The mooring ring wedged between sandal and foot, twisting her ankle. Her arms flailed out in a desperate bid for balance, but there was no longer paving beneath her second foot as it came down. Helplessly, Tevi tumbled backwards into the river.

The traders rushed to the embankment and a line was thrown to help Tevi climb back onto the quay, where she knelt, wiping water from her eyes and trying desperately hard not to think about how filthy the river looked in daylight. In response to the barrage of concerned questioning she simply shook her head ruefully. It was exactly the sort of ending she knew her mother would have predicted for her first serious duel.

*****

The lodgings the traders had taken were small but very comfortable, easily the most luxurious place Tevi had ever seen in her life. She stretched out her feet towards the fire and sunk back into the cushions on her chair. Her eyes roamed around the room. It was currently empty apart from herself. Her rinsed and cleanish clothes were hanging on a rack above the chimney-breast. They appeared to be drying nicely, waving slowly in the rising warm air. Amber firelight from the burning logs in the grate danced cheerfully over an array of tapestries and furniture. Tevi's toes dug into the thick sheepskin rug on the floor. It occurred to her how austere life on the islands was; even the Queen's hall could not match the casual display of wealth about her. Yet, she knew that, by the standards of the mainland, Verron and Marith were well off, but not rich.

The door to the boys' bedroom opened and Verron emerged. He sank into a chair with a sigh.

"Are they asleep?" Tevi asked.

"Pretending to be. I think they just wanted me to go, so they could talk." Verron replied.

"Have you sorted out how Derry got lost?"

Verron shook his head, "I doubt we'll ever get the full story, I don't think he's too certain how it happened himself. I'm just so relieved to have him back safe." Contrary to fears about his parents' anger, Derry's only ordeal had lain in being smothered by the repeated hugs and kisses he had received.

"I guess you'll be wanting to sleep soon as well. Once my things are dry I'll leave. You can have these back." Tevi said, indicating the borrowed clothes she had on.

"Please, you're welcome to keep them. They're only some old garments we had lying around. They were due to be thrown away." Verron said, insistently.

"They may be cast-offs to you, but if I start walking around Torhafn wearing these, I'll soon attract the same sort of attention you did."

Tevi was not sure that she would not attract attention anyway. By the time she had escorted the family back to their lodgings she had been shaking from the twin effects of the cold dunking and the ebbing adrenaline. On the other hand, the traders had regained some of their self-assurance and insisted that she come inside. Then, they had badgered the innkeeper into providing food, drink and a hot bath. The last of these had been a completely new experience for Tevi. She was still trying to evaluate whether or not she liked it. Whatever her final decision, it was certain that the effect of the bath would make her stand out from the rest of the market workers for at least a week.

From the corridor outside the room Marith's voice was heard, calling to someone indistinctly, then the handle turned and she entered, bringing with her a bottle of sweet brandy and three round glasses.

"Is the innkeeper calm now?" Verron asked.

"Reasonably." Marith said, while pouring out three generous measures of the brandy.

"And you didn't pay him double for the late meal?"

"Of course not." Marith snorted at the idea. She distributed the drinks and sat down between the other two.

"I could have warned him that separating you and money is like getting a limpet off a rock." Verron teased affectionately.

"That's not true. For example, I'm going to try again to get Tevi to accept a reward."

Marith's indignant tone made Tevi grin. However she still shook her head. "I don't want paying."

"But I insist." Marith said, firmly.

"I don't particularly like money."

The answer left Marith nonplussed and speechless. In the resulting silence Verron asked, "We were told at the market that the people on your home island make a potion that gives you your strength. Do you think they might trade for it?"

"Never." Tevi had absolutely no doubts of her answer.

"We'd pay well. You might mention it when you return. Do you have any idea when that might be?"

"Never."

It took a second for Verron to realise Tevi was not merely repeating her previous assertion. "But surely your family will miss you and..."

Tevi fought to keep the expression of pain from her face. From the way Verron's voice trailed off she knew she had failed. The two traders discretely exchanged confused glances while Tevi concentrated on the bottom of her glass.

After a few seconds of silence Marith took up the conversation. "So you're planning on staying in Torhafn?"

"For the summer. Maybe I'll move on after that."

"Then you must accept a reward, to see you through winter, when work dries up. We can really never thank you enough for finding Derry, and rescuing us from the footpads."

"It was nothing, I only regret leaving my sword behind tonight."

"You've got a sword!" Marith said in surprise.

Tevi's composure had recovered. She grinned. "And a shield, a short spear and a hunting bow."

Marith pursed her lips thoughtfully while she swilled the brandy around in her glass. "I guess you have to be well armed in a town like this."

At that Tevi laughed. "Oh, I wouldn't dream of walking around the streets with all that on me. But is Torhafn so much worse than anywhere else on the mainland?"

"Definitely. You've picked just about the nastiest town I know." Marith said.

"So where else would you recommend going?"

"Anywhere - it would have to be an improvement."

"Except the Halvia peninsular." Verron chipped in with a laugh.

"What's wrong with Halvia?" Tevi asked.

"A family of dragons."

"Oh."

"But there's lots of other places you could go to and make a decent living. With nothing to tie you to one spot there are so many things you should see." It took little encouragement for the two traders to launch into an enthusiastic account of their travels, which rapidly turned into a mutual nostalgic review, their audience forgotten.

"You remember the first time we met?" Verron asked his partner.

"You won't let me forget it."

"There you were, hanging over the rail on the aft deck. I don't know about the ship, but you were certainly eight sheets to the wind."

"I was seasick, not drunk!" Marith said indignantly.

"So you said at the time, but I've never seen you have trouble with sailing since."

Tevi settled back into the chair and closed her eyes. She had been working at the market since first light that morning. The voices faded to a quiet background hum as the warmth and the brandy overpowered her in a softly enveloping cocoon of sleep.

*****

Some time later she awoke with a start. The fire had burned down to a dull glow, and the even pale colour of her clothes indicated that they were dry. While she had slept Marith and Verron had shifted away a little and now they were talking quietly, their heads close together.

Tevi hauled herself upright in her chair and said, "I must be off."

At Tevi's words the two traders exchanged small nods of agreement, a decision seemed to have been reached.

Marith spoke for them both. "Actually we've got a proposition to put to you. Tonight has brought home to us that we're very vulnerable. Normally we'd have hired a couple of mercenaries as guards, but due to local difficulties they're in short supply at the moment. We desperately need extra protection."

"You want to employ me as a bodyguard?" Tevi asked.

"Ah... well..." Marith hesitated. "It's not quite that simple. We're members of the Protectorate Guild of Traders and Merchant Adventurers. Our guild has a negotiated agreement with the Guild of Mercenary Warriors so that, except in certain defined situations, we're only allowed to hire their members to guard us or our property. In return we get discount rates. If we were caught breaking the rules we would be flung out of our guild, and all our loans would be revoked."

"Then what is your proposition?" Tevi asked frowning. A month before, Marith's words would have been complete gobbledegook to her. Her time in Torhafn gave her some insight, however she was still more than a little confused.

"Well, there's nothing to stop you coming with us as a friend. We could treat you to a guided tour of the sights to be seen along the way. We could even pay you a reward, as long as we make it very clear that it is purely for finding our son." Marith said.

"But of course, if we were attacked by bandits we'd be very pleased if you were to defend yourself." Verron added brightly.

Tevi frowned as she considered what the traders had said - and what they probably meant. She thought she understood. "Isn't that what they call 'bending the rules'?"

Marith shrugged and smiled. "Oh no. Just being a little imaginative in interpreting them."

While she turned the idea over in her head Tevi watched the embers twinkling on the burning logs. She did not know the identity of the thieves she had clashed with, but it was certain she had made enemies that night. Leaving Torhafn might be a very good idea - and sooner rather than later. The two traders also seemed to be the nearest thing to reputable company she had met since leaving Storenseg.

"OK, I agree. When do you leave?"

"Tomorrow. Will that be all right?""

"I've got a boat in the harbour. I'll have to get rid of it somehow." Tevi said.

Verron smiled broadly. "Well if you like, Marith will help you sell it."

Chapter 5: The Trade Route

The watch were calling mid-day and Torhafn market was awash with its usual chaotic activity as the last of the bales were loaded onto the wagons. Tevi heaved the final one into place, and then stepped back while Verron and Kimal secured the tarpaulin cover. Nearby Marith was finalising payment to a burly fur-trader from the north of Walderim, who appeared to be wearing half his merchandise across his own broad back.

"I hear you're leaving town." a voice said at Tevi's shoulder. She glanced around to see Aigur standing behind her. "Derag said you came looking for me this morning."

"I wanted to say goodbye. These folk have asked me to go with them."

Aigur's eyes glanced in the trader's direction. "They're from the Protectorate?"

"Yes."

"You'll be going back there with them?"

"Is that not wise?"

"You could do a lot worse." Aigur looked a little wistful. "I'm sometimes tempted to go back myself."

"You came from the Protectorate?" Tevi said in surprise.

"Long, long ago. And if I hadn't been a rash fool, I'd never have been forced to leave. It's a good place, for the honest. You should do well there."

"Well... maybe." Tevi shrugged, a little self-consciously.

"Oh, go on with you." Aigur nudged her in the ribs. "Will you promise me something?"

"Of course."

"In the Protectorate, if someday you go through the town of Longford Ash - you won't find anyone who remembers me, or if they do, they won't speak well of me - but there's a tavern, the Blue Boar. Buy a tankard of their best ale and toast the old place for me."

"I will. I promise."

Aigur gave a toothless smile and patted Tevi's arm. "Good luck. May your gods watch over you."

"And may your gods watch over you." Tevi replied.

"Oh, I think they gave up on me long ago."

The nearby wagon rocked as Verron climbed onto the driver's seat. Aigur met Tevi's eyes and said, "I think your new friends are ready to go. Farewell Tevi."

"Farewell Aigur."

A lump rose to Tevi's throat. The static life of the islands had given her little experience at goodbyes - until recently. The purse at her belt was heavy with coin from the sale of her boat. She was tempted to give it to the old woman, but she knew the offer would be turned down. There was nothing Tevi could do but smile take her place by Verron.

Marith, with Derry beside her, steered the leading wagon. Kimal rode on a saddle pony, a sturdy mountain-bred beast, dwarfed beside the shaggy carthorses. When Tevi looked back there was no sign of Aigur among the market crowd.

The wagons crawled their way through the busy streets, rumbling over uneven cobbles. Tevi watched the stream of mean faces flow past. She was not sorry to be leaving Torhafn. The weather conspired to show the town at its most dismal for their departure, a grey overcast morning holding the promise of rain. Colours were stretched in the sullen light. To the east, the tops of the Aldrak Mountains were lost in cloud.

A ruined gatehouse marked the remains of the old city walls. Thereafter the dwellings became even more squalid and the road turned into a rutted dirt track. In a short while, the travellers had left the last of the miserable hovels behind and began the ascent into the hills rising south of Torhafn.

The well-worn road climbed in a series of bends. As the incline grew steeper the horses strained against the load, their muscles bunching and the harness creaking alarmingly. A niche cut into the rock-face held a small shrine. Tevi stared at the engraved statue to take her mind off the sheer drop on the other side of the road. The nearest horse snorted loudly.

"Is this road safe?" Tevi asked.

"There won't be any bandits this close to town." Verron answered.

"I was thinking more about the danger of falling."

Verron smiled. "The horses will manage fine.

After a few more hairpins, the road levelled out. Verron leaned back in the seat and relaxed his grip on the reins. He glanced at his passenger. "I'm always glad to get out of Torhafn. It's just about the worst place I know, and I've seen some dire spots in my time. When we were younger, Marith and I used to take the eastern sea routes, out past Ekranos and the straits of Perithia. We even travelled north to Tirakhalod a few times."

"You don't go there any more?"

"They can be dangerous places. We risked it because there's fortune to be made. But now Marith and I are getting on we prefer a quieter life. For the last few seasons, we've done the southern trade route. It's a lot safer - apart from Torhafn. There's not such an good profit, but we've built enough capital so we can trade in luxuries that give a better margin, and we have other investments, back in the Protectorate."

"Don't sorcerers control everything in the Protectorate? I'd heard ordinary people weren't allowed to run their own lives."

"You'll have heard that in Torhafn."

"Isn't it true?"

"Hardly. The Coven of Lyremouth theoretically rules the Protectorate, with the Guardian as their leader, but they pretty much let the guilds manage their own affairs, as long as we pay our taxes." Verron shrugged.

"You don't mind paying taxes?"

At that Verron laughed. "I admit I'd rather not, but it isn't as if we don't get something in return."

"Which is?"

"As the name suggests - protection."

"From what?" Tevi asked.

"Mainly other sorcerers."

"That sounds similar to the sort of protection you can buy in Torhafn."

"It's a lot cleaner than anything you'll find in Torhafn, and it's not as if there's any other option. Sorcerers have ruled every civilisation since time begun. At least the Protectorate is benign and, best of all, stable. It's been going for over four hundred years, which makes it unique."

"What happened to the other civilisations?" Tevi asked.

"They collapsed when the sorcerer who built the empire died. The Coven isn't dependant on any one sorcerer. When the Guardian dies they just elect another."

Tevi frowned "Aigur did say the Protectorate was a good place to live."

"It is, but it will be some time before you get to judge for yourself. We won't return to it until we reach Serac in the autumn."

The wagons finally reached the crest of the hill. Ahead of them the road dipped across a swathe of gently rolling moor. Tevi twisted in her seat and looked back on the town. Seen from a distance, Torhafn was not so bad. If you did not know better you could almost imagine the docks looked quaint. Tevi's gaze shifted to the horizon, a grey blur of rain and mist. Far out to sea was Storenseg. Then the wagons rolled forward and both town and sea were lost over the brow of the hill.

*****

Despite Verron's fears, the journey to Scathberg passed without incident. The only people on the road were fellow traders and couriers. To help pass the time Verron gave Tevi lessons in controlling the team of carthorses and Kimal coached her in the art of riding.

The mountainous islands did not lend themselves to land travel. The sea was the main highway and the original settlers had not bothered taking horses with them; the nearest things were the wiry donkeys used to pull carts. As a girl, Tevi had sat on the backs of these long-suffering beasts of burden, but that had been a game for children, not a method of transport. However, Tevi soon began to acquire a degree of competence on horseback.

They entered Scathberg eighteen days after leaving Torhafn. The sun was high as they rode down the main street. Both sides were lined with shops and taverns and houses. Apart from the absence of ancient ruins, the architecture bore a strong resemblance to the richer parts of Torhafn, with solid grey-stone buildings and slate tiled roofs, but there was no way Tevi could confuse the two towns.

"It feels friendlier" she said to Kimal, who was riding beside her.

"True - you don't have to sit with your back to the wall in the taverns." Kimal's tone was dismissive.

The distinctive sound of a market was growing louder, a hubbub overlain with the shouts of peddlers. Just before they reached it, the wagons turned into a side street and finally came to a halt in a small courtyard. Their arrival brought a thin young man, of twenty or so, out of a doorway. Despite the advanced hour, a dark shadow of stubble masked his jaw, allowing Tevi to be sure of his gender. His bleary eyes and dishevelled clothing told her he had not long been awake.

Marith jumped down to greet him. "Well met Yarle."

"Well met Marith, Verron." He gave a half-hearted nod.

"Is your mother available?" Marith asked, looking around.

"She died last autumn. I'm running the business now." Yarle said, looking at his feet.

Marith floundered for a suitable response. "I'm sorry to hear that. I enjoyed doing business with her."

"She got a fever last winter."

"That's tragic. She wasn't old."

Yarle shrugged, he clearly did not want to discuss it further. "You're here to trade?"

"Of course. I'll show you our goods." Marith took her lead from the young man.

A tap on her knee made Tevi look down. Verron had wandered around to her side of the wagon. "We'll leave Marith to it. She always works best on her own." He raised his voice. "I'm going to show Tevi around the market. You can meet us at the Three Barrels when you're finished. I'll reserve a couple of rooms."

"That'll be fine." Marith called back, already preoccupied with the business of barter. She spared no more attention as Tevi and Verron left the courtyard, accompanied by the two boys.

*****

Marith joined them an hour or so later. They were sitting on a bench outside the inn, overlooking a small square. Around the central fountain, children were playing and a few servants stood gossiping. Occasional porters trundled across pushing a handcart or with a stack of baskets balanced on their heads. In the distance the Aldrak Mountains raised their snow-covered peaks against a clear blue sky.

"How did it go with Yarle?" Verron asked.

"Like a lamb to the slaughter. I almost felt sorry taking the money off him. He'll never be in business by the time we get back next year. He's got as much talent for bargaining as I have for flying."

"Mother's feeling guilty. She must have got the shirt off his back." Kimal said with a broad grin.

"I felt I was taking advantage of his inexperience."

"You could have given him an easy deal." Kimal suggested mischievously.

"We're not in business for charity. If I don't get his money someone else will. But it's a shame - I respected his mother." Marith shook her head slowly and sighed. "Are you ready to come and see to the wagons?"

Verron answered by standing and linking his arm through his partner's. Tevi and the two boys followed behind. While she walked, Tevi considered what had been said about Yarle. Her island-born morality was appalled at the thought of a young man, helpless and alone, being cheated out of his money - not that Marith was dishonest, but the experienced trader clearly had an unfair advantage.

Tevi turned to Kimal. "Is there no one to help Yarle? Doesn't he belong to a guild or something?"

"You don't get guilds here - not in the same way as in the Protectorate. Anyway, from what mama said, I can't see a guild lending him money." Kimal replied.

"He wouldn't need to borrow money, he's got his mother's." Tevi pointed out.

"But in the Protectorate he wouldn't have inherited the money."

"Why not?"

"Because, strictly speaking, it wouldn't have been hers in the first place."

"Who would it belong to? The Coven?"

"No, the guild, of course." Kimal's tone implied that the answer was obvious.

"Your parents have got money... haven't they?" Tevi's voice betrayed her confusion.

"Not really. When they finished their apprenticeship the guild licensed them and gave them their advance to set up in business. They could do what they liked with the money, within reason, though they have to pay tithes to the guild and taxes to the Coven. But when they die the guild will take everything back." Kimal explained.

"You and Derry won't get to share it?" Tevi asked in surprise.

"No."

The prospect clearly did not bother Kimal in the slightest, but Tevi had some trouble coming to terms with the idea. The islander in her was not bothered by the thought of losing money as much as the complete disregard for family and inheritance. She remembered being told that there were no hereditary leaders in the Protectorate.

Kimal carried on talking. "Hopefully, we'll be in guilds for ourselves, long before our parent die. I mean, it must be awful, having to wait until your parents peg-it before you can start your own career."

"Don't your parents want you to take over their business from them?" Tevi asked.

"Why should they?" Kimal seemed nearly as confused as Tevi. "We might not want to be traders."

"You told me that you did."

"I want to be a mercenary." Derry cut in loudly.

Kimal raised his voice to drown out his brother. "True, but when I'm ready I can get my own advance from the guild, if they think I'm good enough."

"And if you're not good enough?" Tevi asked.

"Then there'd be no point in my parents giving me their business, would there?" Kimal said reasonably. "It makes sense. Protectorate traders always come out best, 'cause we don't let fools make a mess of things just because of who their parents were."

Tevi did not answer. It seemed a strange way to organise things but, thinking of her own experience, how much simpler it would have been if her family had simply accepted that she was not cut out to be queen, and had chosen someone more suited for the job - such as Laff. The corners of her mouth turned down in a bitter grimace as she realised that this was exactly what they had done.

The two wagons were waiting in the courtyard. Yarle watched sullenly as Tevi unloaded the cargo. The others helped with lighter items and soon the party was ready to depart. Yarle had counted the load into his storeroom, but seemed unsure of what to do next. He still had not shaved. To Tevi's eyes, it made him seem even more pathetically vulnerable. She could not restrain herself from trying to help him.

"Is everything all right?" she asked gently.

"Why shouldn't it be?"

"It's a lot of responsibility, running a business."

Yarle looked her up and down defiantly. "I can cope."

"Isn't there someone who can help you, a cousin or an aunt? People might take advantage of a young man on his own."

"I don't need help." A surly note entered Yarle's voice.

"But it's not fair to expect you to run your own finances and things like that."

"I'm not an idiot."

"I wasn't saying you were, I just think you could do with a woman to look after you. It's too much to expect a boy to take care of himself."

"What the hell do you think I am? A child or something? I'm probably older than you."

"Yes, but..." Tevi managed to stop herself before she finished the sentence; it's not the same for a woman. It was the island's way of thinking that, rightly or wrongly, would not be understood on the mainland. She drew a deep breath and tried to juggle her head and forget she was talking to a man. "It's just... Losing your mother must have been a shock and... I thought you might need advice, or..."

"I don't need anyone's advice." Yarle snarled the words. He marched into his storeroom, slamming the door behind him in Tevi's face. She glanced over her shoulder at the others, who had been listening to the exchange.

"I didn't mean to insult him."

Verron's face held a slightly perplexed frown. "If you don't mind me saying so, you sometimes seem to have a problem taking men seriously."

Tevi sighed and raised her eyes to the sky. "I know, but I'm working on it - believe me, I'm working on it."

*****

The line of wagons rolled out of Scathberg, accompanied by the crunching of stones, the shouts of riders and the crack of whips. Hired guards and scouts flanked the caravan as outriders. Tevi was halfway down the line, with the reins in her hands and Verron beside her, offering the occasional word of advice.

Hills rose on either side, striped with row upon row of grapevines - the source of the famed red Scathberg wine. Between the neatly trained lines, the ground was dry and bare, except for tufts of thin, yellow grass. Scattered grey-stone farmhouses dotted the vineyards. High above, the sun shone brightly through fine wisps of cirrus cloud. A light morning breeze carried dust, stirred up by the hooves of horses ahead.

"How far will we go with these people?" Tevi asked.

"Through the desert as far as Kradja." Verron replied. "Then we'll join another caravan for the journey to Gu'lith and on to the river port of Limori."

"Do you travel with groups for protection?"

"Partly. It's also a way to share resources. The desert is unpredictable; landmarks shift from one season to the next. If we were on our own and we missed a water hole it could be fatal. The nomads are usually friendly, but you can't rely on them coming to your rescue."

"How long 'till we get to Kradja?"

"Maybe twenty-three days, twenty-five at most." Verron estimated.

"Kimal said there's an enormous temple there."

"There certainly is." Verron agreed.

"We had a shrine in the middle of the village I came from, I've been trying to imagine it scaled up, but I guess the temple won't be quite like that." Tevi said thoughtfully.

"I doubt it - unless your people confuse brooding with meditation, and have a liking for cryptic images and overblown dramatics." Verron smiled as he spoke.

Tevi matched his grin and flicked the reins to encourage the horses to keep up with those in front. Behind them, the walls of Scathberg shrank into the distance and soon were lost among the farmlands.

*****

As they moved southwards the landscape became ever more arid. Trees and bushes changed to waxy-leafed, drought-resistant varieties. On the nineteenth day out of Scathberg, they reached the edge of a plateau. An eroded escarpment overlooked a featureless plain of dust and rock stretching off until it met a cloudless turquoise sky. Isolated cacti and long-thorned shrubs were the only things growing on the parched landscape.

That night they pitched camp in a stony gully where clumps of green plants revealed the presence of underground water. This was confirmed once they swept the wind-blown gravel from the cistern cover. One of the guides told Tevi that, during the autumn rains, the gully was a riverbed. It was strange to think of water flowing through this dry land. The sun sank low and long shadows covered the campsite. After the heat of the day, the wind was chill as it whispered across the desert, and sucked heat from everything it touched.

When the evening meal was over, Tevi took a thick cloak and left the fireside. From the top of the gully, she watched the sunset turn the sky to fire. The heavens flamed first gold, then blazed with fierce red that smouldered to solemn purple and finally blackness, strewn with the white sparks of stars. Tevi stared across the barren land in awe at the harsh, inhuman beauty. She returned to the camp with tears in her eyes. She had not wanted to leave Storenseg, and wished with all her heart she could go back, yet it would have been an unbearable loss to have lived her life without ever seeing a desert sunset.

Five days later they reached the oasis town of Kradja, a sprawling mass of flat-topped houses built of mud bricks, the same colour as the landscape. The town seemed to be growing from the desert. Without transition, the rough trail became a dusty street, crowded with workers, children, merchants and servants. Robed nomads led strings of improbable gangling beasts, taller than a horse, with sinuous necks and a wobbling lump on their backs.

"Camels." Verron told her, seeing Tevi's eyes follow the animals in amazement. The air was full of the sounds of shouting, laughing, hammering and the jingle of horse harness.

Closer to the centre of town the walls became higher, blank except for wide gateways guarded by sentries with barbed pikes. Most were closed, but through the open ones Tevi caught glimpses of gardens, with surprising greenery, and rich in lavish blooms. The scent of flowers mixed with the dust and sweat of the street. Tevi raised her eyes. Above the walls, the soaring crowns of palms pierced the blue sky. Towering over all was the green copper dome of the temple.

*****

Later that afternoon she stood in the cavernous interior. The huge echoing void was filed with hushed whispers. Light from a ring of windows filtered down through a haze of incense. In the gloom huddled groups of chanting priests, wild-eyed prophets and praying supplicants. Alcoves held grotesque statues of gods. Some idols were bedecked with garlands of fruit and flowers. Before the more warlike were bloodstained altars.

"Impressive, isn't it?" Kimal observed.

"I should say so. Is this considered a very holy place?" Tevi whispered in reply.

"There's a legend among the locals that this is a very auspicious spot to make money out of visitors. For a price they'll tell your future or bless anything you feel needs blessing."

"Are the prophecies accurate?" Tevi asked.

"If you've got money to waste you could find out."

The question immediately rose in Tevi's mind, Will I ever return to Storenseg? But she knew it was pointless, and required no skilled oracle to divine the answer.

A fresh burst of chanting began nearby, voices rose and fell in wavering cadences. Tevi watched as a robed priest threw fistfuls of incense into a crucible, while the body of an entranced seer swayed and shuddered. The oracle's eyes were glazed but, as Tevi looked, they seemed to fasten on her and the head wobbled up and down, as if nodding - as if an answer.

For a second Tevi's breath caught in her throat. Then she sighed and dismissed the taunting fantasy. The oracle drooped, and then twitched into a shuffling, circular dance. The smell of incense became overpowering and Tevi and Kimal moved away, coughing. They squeezed through the crowds blocking the main entrance. Outside was bright and refreshing after the scented darkness, although the heat hit them like a blow.

The temple was set in the midst of a garden. Fountains splashed into geometrically shaped pools of dark-green water. Birds sung from rooftops; the sound floating lazily on the hot afternoon air.

"What gods do the people in the Protectorate worship?" Tevi asked.

"It varies. A lot of places have their own local deities."

"Are there no temples like this?"

Kimal shook his head. "Oh no. It's all very unorganised and informal."

"Who do the sorcerers worship?"

"No one in particular, although some of them have very elaborate ideas about the meaning of life and how we all came to be here." Kimal's tone was, as ever, irreverent.

"On the islands we worship Rangir, goddess of the sea, and her sisters."

"I shouldn't think anyone would mind if you want to keep practising your faith. But your goddess is almost certainly no more than the folk memory of an ancient sorcerer - that's what most turn out to be."

"You sound as if you don't believe in any of them." Tevi was not sure if she did either.

"Only when I'm frightened. Most of the time I need proof - and there isn't any." Kimal sounded quite definite.

"Couldn't the sorcerers find out?"

"Some have tried and got nowhere. And they're the experts in unseen powers. If sorcerers can't find the smallest scrap of information, it's a bit silly for any ordinary mortal, like the priests in there, to claim they know the gods' names, how they made the world, what songs they'd like sung in their honour, or which style of head-dress they normally wear."

Tevi smiled at his light-hearted tone. "Still, it's a very impressive temple."

"Oh yes, and their religion is probably no more wrong than anyone else's."

Verron, Marith and Derry were waiting at the appointed rendezvous. Together, the five of them left the temple garden and wandered through the marketplace, full of noise and the tang of strange spices. The sight of a row of camels caught Tevi attention.

The rubbery mouths moved in continuous chewing and, to judge from the peeling fur, they were all in the middle of a fairly major moult. Tevi reached out to touch a shaggy haunch, but stopped as a nomad spotted her and jabbered harshly. She frowned. The nomad repeated a string of similar, incomprehensible syllables.

"Pardon, I didn't catch that." Tevi said politely.

"I only know a few words of their language, but I think you were being warned that the camels bite." Marith said at her shoulder.

"Their language?" Tevi asked, confused.

"Yes. Not everyone speaks the same language as us."

"There's more than one language?" Tevi was dumbfounded. The idea had never occurred to her before. It felt as if it should be impossible, although, once she stopped to consider it, she could think of no valid reason why.

Verron laughed at the surprise on Tevi's face. "There are dozens of languages, maybe even hundreds. All the lands around the Middle Seas have a common tongue, which is due to a sorcerer who enforced it as an experiment 600 hundred years ago. I think he had some naive idea that if everyone understood each other there'd be no conflict. Of course all that happened was everyone could argue much more effectively." Verron explained dryly. It was easy to tell where Kimal got his ironic outlook on life.

"How do people with different languages communicate?" Tevi persisted.

"With great difficulty - although I think Marith can haggle in every language in existence."

Marith laughed, "It's not me, it's money that can talk any language."

Kimal joined the discussion. "Even where languages start out the same they drift apart over the centuries. The Coven keeps the Protectorate constant, but you can find some strange accents from time to time - like yours. Another few hundred years of isolation and no one on the mainland will be able to understand a word you islanders say." He spoke the last sentence in a fair imitation of Tevi's soft drawl, and then he elbowed her lightly in the ribs.

The playful scuffle that followed ended quickly as Tevi caught Kimal around the waist, flipped him over and effortlessly held him upside-down by his ankles. Kimal yelped, his arms flailing and hair brushing the ground.

"I think, my son, the moral is, that if ever you meet a woman with an accent like Tevi's you should treat her with some respect." Marith said laughing.

Tevi returned the boy to his feet and they continued the relaxed stroll through the streets of Kradja. Yet, Tevi could not help thinking that there was little chance of Kimal meeting anyone else with her accent - she alone was exiled forever.

*****

The trader's route went from town to town, with the value of their merchandise growing steadily. Autumn was fast approaching as they returned north. A last caravan took them to the city of Villenes, within sight of where the Aldracks trailed away into the Merlieu hills. On the other side was Serac - and the Protectorate.

A genuine affection had grown between Tevi and the traders. Kimal and Derry treated her like an older sister, Verron and Marith like a trusted niece. She felt more accepted than had ever been the case with her own family, although there were things about herself she dare not reveal. Tevi was also aware she could not stay with them forever. She would have to find a way to make her own living.

While Verron and Marith completed arrangements for the last stages of the journey, Tevi wandered through the town in the company of the two boys. The shops were piled high with clothes and rolls of material. Villenes was famous for its textiles. As they paused at a stall, the owner rushed over, beaming, and extracted a crimson shirt from the nearest pile. The item was held up against Tevi who shook her head, somewhat abashed. On the islands bright colours, particularly reds, were reserved for men, while women wore neutral tones. It took little to imagine the comments if her kin saw her wearing anything the colour of the shirt. However, there was no chance of them seeing her again, and trying to fit in had never stopped them talking anyway. In a sudden mood of defiance, Tevi commenced bartering and shortly after walked away, carrying the shirt. She felt like a naughty child.

The traders were lodging with a friend - someone they had once travelled with, and shared dangers and difficult times. Tevi was assured the woman had been a little wild in her youth, although she was now a highly respectable merchant. Her home was a rambling building, set among gardens leading down to the river. At the door Tevi and the boys were greeted by servants, who took their parcels and offered the traditional soft slippers. They found Marith in the central courtyard, surrounded by potted ferns. She was talking to two unfamiliar men.

One was about thirty, strongly muscled all the way up to his bull-like neck. Topping it was a round, good-natured face. His companion was older, taller and leaner, with weathered skin and close-cropped grey hair. Both men were wearing mail-reinforced leather jackets. Swords hung at their sides. On the backs of their hands were tattooed red and gold crossed swords - the mark of the Protectorate guild of Mercenary Warriors.

The men glanced around as Tevi and the two boys approached. Marith performed the introductions. "These are my two sons, Kimal and Derry, and this is a friend of ours, Tevi." She gestured to the mercenaries. "This is Cade," the younger of the two men nodded, "and this is Alentris. They'll be escorting us to Serac."

Tevi was aware that both men's eyes had fastened on the sword hanging her side.

"Do you know how to use that?" the mercenary called Alentris asked.

"A little." Tevi said, diffidently.

Derry piped in. "We met Tevi in Torhafn when she rescued mama and papa from a gang of footpads."

Both mercenaries looked satisfied. Evidently, their concern was solely with assessing the defensive capability of the party. Only Tevi caught the look of relief that flitted across Marith's face.

"It never hurts to have..." Alentris was interrupted by Derry tugging on his jerkin,

"I'm going to be a mercenary when I'm older." Derry's defiant tone made the adults laugh.

Cade grinned at Marith. "Don't worry. They grow out of it - most of them."

*****

The road from Villenes to Serac led over a dusty plain of low-lying thorny shrubs and wind-blown yellow grass. After travelling so far in large caravans, it was strange to be on their own again. The monotony of the landscape also subdued the traders. Only the two mercenaries were unaffected, they rode ahead of the wagons, swapping anecdotes and laughing.

On the third day, the terrain began to rise. That night they pitched camp beside a weathered outcrop of rock crowning the top of a low hill. The sloping ground was sparsely covered with the same coarse bushes found in the lowlands, but at the bottom was a small stream. The banks supported the first real patch of greenery they had seen since leaving the irrigated fields surrounding Villenes.

While the others arranged the campsite, Tevi and Cade went down the slope to replenish their supply of water. In the wet mud was the imprint of a single row of footsteps. The pair examined the track in silence.

Cade spoke first. "We're on a reasonably well used route..."

"We haven't seen a sign of anyone all day and they're very fresh." Tevi said.

Cade studied their surroundings thoughtfully. There was no other trace of human activity. He shrugged and bent down to fill the water container, "It's probably a fur trapper, or goatherd."

"You could be right." Tevi agreed, a little uncertainly.

"And it should help focus the thoughts of whoever's on watch tonight."

Back at the camp, the news was greeted without undue alarm; there were too many legitimate reasons for someone's presence in the area. After the evening meal Derry was put to bed inside one of the wagons and Alentris sat first watch on top of the rocks. Leaving the lowlands had lifted the trader's spirits. The lighter mood kept the group sitting around the campfire, talking, well past the time when they would normally have gone to sleep.

Marith was affecting a comic burlesque of indignation. She tapped the ground with a forefinger and demanded. "Okay. Who's pinched the last of the cinnamon biscuits?"

"Would I do a thing like that?" Cade asked, going along with the game and pretending to sound hurt.

"From the way you wolfed down the rest of them, I'd say it's more than likely."

"But the guild guarantees my honesty." Cade said, spreading his hands in appeal.

"So we'll put in a claim."

Verron laughed. "I can just imagine the response if I submit a claim for one cinnamon biscuit."

"Three!" Marith corrected, mock-righteously.

"The honour of the guild demands that I confess." Alentris's voice drifted down from the rocks, just above their heads, as he joined in the performance. "It was I who took the biscuits, but if you forbear to submit your claim then I will more than make good the loss when we get to Serac."

"You see Marith, I told you it pays to hire mercenaries with two swords." Verron said. He caught sight of Tevi's puzzled expression. "I was referring to their tattoos. Junior mercenaries only have a single sword on their hands. It's not until they've proved their trustworthiness that the guild gives them the second, crossed sword. After that the guild guarantees to refund any losses if they prove dishonest."

"Which is why they feel they can charge such an exorbitant fee." Marith concluded

"We're excellent value for money." Cade spoke with heavy irony.

"What stops thieves from tattooing their hands to pass themself off?" Tevi asked.

"We do." Alentris said. "If ever you're in Dresinton you can see the remains of a couple that tried it."

Cade grinned up at his colleague. "Are the skulls still there then?" he asked in a conversational tone of voice.

"Oh yes, they're wedged in tight, they'll never..." Alentris's voice stopped abruptly. Something about the arrested speech drew all eyes to him in an instant. His attention was fixed on the bushes at the bottom of the hill. He then gestured sharply. Cade scuttled to the side of one of the wagons and stared down the slope. There was silence around the campfire.

"By the bushes."

"I see them." The two mercenaries spoke in taunt whispers.

Without a word Marith, leaned forward and dowsed the fire by emptying one of the flasks over it. The water hissed furiously for a second. Suddenly it was very dark. The new moon was low in the sky, lighting the hillside obliquely but not touching the campsite in the shadow of the rocks. Alentris scrambled down from his lookout point. The faint scuffing of his feet was the only sound that could be heard.

The traders slipped into a wagon. Verron reappeared almost immediately, carrying two crossbows. Tevi's mouth went dry as she reached back to her scabbard. She drew her sword and joined the two mercenaries, standing shielded by the wagons but with a clear view down the hillside. Tevi's eyes ached as they stared into the gully, slowing adjusting to the dark. Nothing was moving below.

Marith's voice was heard, whispering quietly to Derry, before she emerged and tiptoed over to take the second crossbow from Verron. There was a tap on Tevi's shoulder. She looked back to see Kimal holding up her hunting bow, with an unspoken request on his face. She nodded her consent and Kimal strung the bow, slung the quiver of arrows over his shoulder and went to stand by his parents. There was a brief period of whispering and then the traders took up positions in the shelter of the wagons.

Alentris and Cade were conferring quietly. "About a dozen of them, do you think?"

"Maybe less."

Tevi bit her lip and asked, "So what now?"

Alentris spoke grimly. "If they've got any sense they'll realise we've spotted them and they'll give up and go away." At that instant, there was a shout from the bottom of the hill and nine figures burst from the undergrowth. "Damn. They're idiots."

Cade caught hold of Tevi's arm and hissed urgently. "There may be more in the bushes with bows. Stay back until this lot are close enough to obscure you from their line of sight."

Tevi nodded to show she'd understood.

The bandits continued their charge up the hill. To Tevi's eyes, it seemed as if they were running in slow motion. From the wagons came a succession of twangs as the traders started shooting. One of the advancing figures fell, with hands clasped against a thigh. Then, as the first of the attackers got to within twenty yards of the wagons, Alentris shouted "Right!" and charged forward. Cade was close behind. Tevi took a deep breath and leapt down the hill.

The nearest bandit to her took a defensive stance, planting both feet firmly on the ground. With no attempt at subtlety, Tevi swung her sword down hard. Her opponent's blade rose to make the block, but the bandit was completely unprepared for the force of Tevi's blow. The attempted defence was knocked aside while Tevi's sword was barely deflected. The sharp edge sliced deeply into flesh. With a cry, the wounded bandit staggered backwards, then slipped and stumbled away down the slope.

The momentum of her charge carried Tevi some way after her foe, until she managed to regain her footing and skidded to a halt. Before she had time to turn, Tevi heard footsteps behind her. In her head, she heard Blaze's voice screaming "DUCK". By instinct, she obeyed, turning as she dropped. One of her knees brushed the ground as a blade whistled harmlessly over her head. Directly in front of Tevi's face was a pair of legs. Tevi's hand tightened on the hilt as she drove her sword up, in a quick, determined trust. The point entered just below her assailant's breastbone.

Only then did she look up. It was a young man. Surprise on his face turned slowly to horror. His sword slipped from his grasp as his hands twitched futilely towards his chest and then stopped. Slowly he keeled forward. Tevi raised her hand to stop him from landing on top of her. The bandit's body hit the ground with a soft, dull, thump.

Tevi wrenched her sword free, then stood and looked around. Ten yards away Cade was hard pressed in combat against three attackers. The nearest bandit did not even turn as Tevi ran towards them. Again, her sword swung down in an arc, hitting the outlaw on the joint between shoulder and neck. The force of the blow almost severed the head. The bandit collapsed with a sharp guttural sigh - a sound which rooted the other two outlaws to the ground. Cade lashed out with his sword, severing the weapon, and possibly a few fingers, from one of the stunned bandits. Suddenly the battle was over. The two turned and fled, followed by their surviving allies.

"Quick! Back to cover." Cade cried.

They dashed up the hillside and skidded to a stop behind the wagons. In a second Alentris joined them. The older mercenary ran his hand through his cropped hair, then slumped into a crouch, elbows on his knees, breathing deeply.

"Are you all right?" Cade asked.

"Not a scratch. They were amateurs. But I'm getting too old for this game." Alentris said between gasps.

"How about you, Tevi?"

"Oh, I'm fine." Yet as she spoke, she was aware that the right side of her face felt wet and sticky.

Cade also noticed and reached over to wipe her cheek gently. He rubbed his fingers together and looked concerned. "That's a lot of blood."

Alentris looked up. "Is it yours?" he asked.

In confusion, Tevi search her memory, and saw again the young man crumpling above her, blood gushing from his chest. "No. It's not."

Alentris nodded and said, "Good. That's the important thing."

*****

The crescent moon had climbed high into the sky. Tevi sat on the rocks and stared at it. She had volunteered for first watch duty, knowing she could not sleep. Every time she closed her eyes she saw the young bandit's expression, his eyes and mouth wide open with astonishment and fear. Her second victim did not upset her quite so much - she had not seen the face, did not even know if it was a man or a woman. However, each time she relived the sight of the first, dying bandit he looked more like Sparrow.

There was a scrabbling sound from below and Cade's head appeared over the edge of the rocks. He climbed up to sit beside her and offered a mug of hot soup. Tevi took it with a mumbled word of thanks and sipped in silence. Cade shuffled back into a comfy position, leaning against a rock.

Cade let her finish the soup before he spoke. "Was that the first time you've killed someone?"

Tevi nodded, not trusting her voice.

"You know you had no choice?" Cade said after a short pause.

Again Tevi nodded in silence.

"No. I suppose it doesn't help much." Cade's nose wrinkled. "Didn't help a great deal when someone first said it to me."

"But it didn't put you off becoming a mercenary?" Tevi's voice cracked as she spoke.

"It made me think long and hard for about a month. Still does, sometimes."

"Will tonight give you much to think about?"

"No. I guess it gets easier after a while. And tonight was simple - it was us or them. A cliché, but true."

Tevi put down the empty mug and wrapped her arms around her raised knees. Her voice was muffled as she spoke, "I keep wondering what he was like; what his name was."

"That's a bad game to start playing." Cade said softly.

"I keep thinking someone must have cared for him. Someone said goodbye to him as he went out tonight. They'll never see him again. For the rest of their life that person will hate me for what I did tonight, without even knowing who I am." To her dismay Tevi realised tears were rolling down her face. "He'll have parents who fed him, washed him, told him stories, watched him grow, dreamed of grandchildren, and now all that is gone."

"Then they shouldn't have raised him to be a thief and a murderer. Believe me, you can't start tearing yourself up like this. At least tonight makes some sort of sense - you were saving the lives of your friends. As a hired sword, I've been in some nasty brawls." Cade's voice grew bitter. "At the end, you don't know what it was about, or what was gained, or where the right and wrong of it lay. You just wake up in the morning, spare a thought for those who can't, and thank whatever god watches over you."

Tevi's head sunk onto her folded arms. Cade slid over and put his arm around her shoulder. He patted her gently. "Go on. Get some sleep. I'll sit watch."

"I can't sleep." Tevi said.

"You probably can, I put a whole spoonful of Marith's best sleeping draught in your soup."

Even as Cade spoke the effects of the drug hit Tevi. The stars spun as a wave of drowsiness washed over her. Without another word, Tevi slithered across to the edge of the rock and accepted Cade's offered hand to help her down. She stumbled over to where her blanket lay beside the campfire and was asleep before her head touched the ground.

*****

In the morning light the wreckage of the fight lay visible on the slope. Apart from splashed blood, dropped weapons and uprooted bushes, four of the attackers lay dead on the ground. As well as the two Tevi had slain, there was a woman with a crossbow bolt in her throat, and a man cut open by Alentris. Their silent presence unsettled the travellers. People moved quietly about their tasks, preparing to depart as soon as possible. Even Derry was subdued.

After breakfast Tevi walked down to the young man she had killed. Seen clearly in daylight he looked nothing like Sparrow. She stood staring at him blankly for a long while, until a call from the top of the hill roused her.

"Hey, Tevi. We're ready to go."

"Aren't we going to bury them or something?" Tevi shouted back.

"Haven't got the time, or the inclination. If their friends are concerned they can come back and get them once we've gone." Alentris shouted down.

"And if not?"

"Then they'll make some little, furry animals very happy."

Tevi took a last long look around the scene, as if trying to impress it on her memory, then turned and trotted up the hill to join the wagons.

Chapter 6: The Mark of the Guild

Serac was a busy town, centred around its port, with wide streets full of traffic. It was the first time Tevi had been in the Protectorate. The town was obviously prosperous and well-ordered, however it did not seem particularly noteworthy compared to other places she had seen - although she was not quite sure what she had been expecting. Most of her time was spent sitting on the harbour wall, watching boats bobbing on the water and smelling the heavy, salt-laden sea air.

The mercenaries were paid off. Alentris bid the group farewell, taking contract as a guard on an outgoing caravan. Cade, however, wanted to visit Lyremouth and would still travel with them, although no longer as an employee. At Serac the traders also parted company with the horses and bought passage on a ship bound for Lyremouth.

Marith had explained, "You can always find a buyer for the wagons, though you never make any real profit on the deal. But we can make a fortune selling the spice in Lyremouth, and the sea is the quickest way there."

"Couldn't we take the horses with us?"

"It would be too expensive."

Tevi was unhappy saying goodbye to the horses. She had come to view them almost as friends. "Will they be alright?"

"Oh yes." Marith had assured her. "They're too valuable for anyone to abuse."

The party boarded their ship a few days later. Like all islanders, Tevi was a born sailor and felt at home with the pitching deck beneath her feet. However, she had never been on a ship the size of the 'Aspen Rover'. It dwarfed the tiny boats of the Western Isles and required teamwork unlike anything she had experienced before. Tevi realised her fishing experience would not qualify her for a career as a Protectorate sailor, and the time plan her future was getting close.

*****

Nine days out of Serac, the northern shore hove into sight. It was a warm afternoon. Seagulls flocked above the wake of the boat, fighting over the pickings churned up by its passage. Tevi leant on the starboard rail, dividing her attention between the distant shoreline and the water racing past below. Kimal and Cade were beside her.

Cade was speaking. "I was born and bred in Lyremouth. It'll be nice to see the old place again and it's about time I called in on my parents. They worry about me." He sniffed reflectively. "Can't say I blame them."

"What's Lyremouth like?" Tevi asked.

"Big." Kimal replied quickly.

"Isn't the Coven there? Do you see many sorcerers?"

"A few." Kimal shrugged.

"What do they do?"

"Just walk around, looking important." Kimal was at his most dismissive.

"You don't get sorcerers on the islands, but we have lots of legends. I guess I'm hoping to see something spectacular."

"Then I'm afraid you'll be disappointed. Sorcerers aren't prone to putting on shows for people's amusement." Cade said laughing.

"So how can you tell them apart from anyone else?"

"Members of the Coven all wear amulets on their wrists, engraved with a pattern of oak leaves. Witches' are various colours, depending on rank. Sorcerers have a black amulet and the Guardian's is white, but there's little chance you'll ever see it. She rarely leaves the Coven buildings, except for festivals when she's surrounded by a swarm of guild-masters."

"I'd still like to see some real magic." Tevi's voice was wistful.

Kimal whooped. "You walk around with the strength of five men, and complain you don't see any magic!"

"We all take the potion on Storenseg, and I've grown up with it, so I don't see it as anything unusual."

"Do you have any other magic potions?" Cade asked.

"No. And we only got the strength potion from a sorcerer who was shipwrecked on our island ages ago."

"How about dragons or werewolves?" Cade persisted.

"No. A sea-monster was washed onto the beach when I was a child, but it was half eaten and not very impressive." Tevi said.

"And no magic users?"

"No."

Cade's eyes travelled to the horizon as he said, "It would be nice to be rid of them all."

"Don't you like sorcerers?" Tevi asked with surprise.

"I don't like thunderstorms, but they're unavoidable. It's the same with sorcerers. You just have to put up with them. The Coven is indispensable, but if it wasn't, I'd happily ditch the lot."

"What's wrong with them?"

"They're not like us. They're too bloody powerful and the few I've met have given me the creeps. Though don't get me wrong - as things stand I'd willingly die for the Coven. It's still a damn sight better than any of the alternatives." Cade's voice was resigned rather than bitter.

"You sound like papa." Kimal said. "He says folk complain about the Coven and the taxes, but if they saw how the rest of the world runs they'd change their tune."

"The places we've seen have been okay." Tevi pointed out.

"The southern lands have been very quiet since a big bust-up fifty years back. And the border countries, like Walderim, are all under the sway of the Coven, even if they don't pay allegiance. Sorcerers born in these regions either come in to join the Coven or move further away so they can have a free hand to do whatever they want." Kimal explained.

"What do sorcerers do elsewhere in the world?" Tevi asked.

"Ruin the lives of ordinary folk." Cade rejoined the debate. "And have done since the dawn of time."

"How?"

"Building empires. They've enslaved people, conscripted them into armies, even used them for experiments. They've destroyed millions of ordinary folk who wanted nothing more than to get on with their own business - farming or hunting or whatever." Now there was definite bitterness in Cade's voice.

"Couldn't people resist?"

Cade shook his head. "A sorcerer is so powerful compared to ungifted folk like us. The only person who can do anything to stop one is another sorcerer, and the gods alone know how many have died in wars between them. They make the nastiest brawl I've ever seen look like a lover's tiff. And all for nothing - once the sorcerer dies their empires collapse back into anarchy."

"Couldn't their children take over?" Tevi asked.

"Hardly." Cade snorted.

"Why not?"

"They don't have the ability. Maybe one person in a hundred has limited magical gifts, but only one in a hundred thousand has enough to be a sorcerer. I don't think anyone knows what makes a sorcerer, but its not inherited. A sorcerer's children are no more likely to be gifted with magic than a labourer's." Cade explained.

"The empires all rise and fall in the space of a lifetime." Kimal added.

"Verron told me the Protectorate has lasted for hundreds of years." Tevi said.

"The Protectorate is different. It's not dependent on any one sorcerer." From his tone, Kimal was clearly more sympathetic to the Coven than Cade was. "The Coven also leaves us alone, as long as we pay our taxes. They don't ask us to fight wars. They even do useful things, like training healers and weather-witches. We don't..."

Any other advantages to the Coven were lost as a bucketful of water landed on Kimal's back, followed by a giggle from Derry. After a second of stunned shock, Kimal spun around He spotted his brother disappearing into the hold. Kimal shouted and chased after Derry, but there was a smile on his face. He evidently took the soaking in good part. Cade and Tevi laughed at Kimal's rapid departure

"He's a nice lad." Tevi said, putting aside the conversation about sorcerers.

"They're a nice family." Cade added.

"True."

"Will you be staying with them for long?"

Tevi shrugged. "Marith and Verron have invited me to spend the winter with them."

"Have you any thoughts about what you're going to do after?"

"Not really."

"You should join a guild." Cade said, seriously.

"Which one? I'm a bit old to start an apprenticeship."

"You wouldn't need to, if you already had the skills for the trade."

"I'm not sure I have any worthwhile skills." Tevi said, sombrely.

Cade chewed his lip for a while and then said, "Would you be interested in joining the mercenaries?"

Tevi gave a humourless laugh. "My old weapon trainer would be utterly dumbstruck to hear you ask that. Back in my home village, I was considered to be the worst warrior of all time."

Cade looked surprised. "There's a gang of bandits outside Villenes who'd disagree with that."

"I guess being three times as strong as anyone else gives me an unfair advantage here."

"You don't worry about fairness in battles - use every advantage you've got. Anyway, I know the guild would be pleased to have you."

"Can anyone just ask to join?" Tevi said, looking at him.

"No. You need to be nominated by a guild member. Normally it's the warrior you've been apprenticed to, but it doesn't have to be. And you weren't born in the Protectorate so you'd need two other citizens to vouch for you, but I can't see Marith and Verron refusing you that." Cade patted Tevi on the shoulder. "Think about it. If you like, I'll nominate you. You did alright with the bandits - certainly saved my neck."

He walked away, humming softly to himself. Tevi looked out to sea, deep in thought.

*****

The Aspen Rover reached Lyremouth harbour late the following evening. The autumn sunset turned the spires and rooftops of the city to a dull pink. Overhead the first stars were starting to show. The ship dropped anchor well out in the bay. It would not dock until high tide, early the next morning. Tevi and Marith leant against the railing and watched as dusk claimed the city. Silhouetted against the darkening sky was a forest of tall masts. Lower in the water were the squat shapes of river barges that had brought produce down the Lyre, from the hinterlands. Light from numerous torches burning on the dockside shimmered off the still water. Further inland other lanterns speckled the gentle hills rising behind the harbour.

Marith pointed out some of the major landmarks.

"Which is the Coven?" Tevi asked.

"Out there to the right. It's the group of buildings on the south-east side of town." Marith pointed it out.

"The Guardian lives there?"

"Yes."

"Have you ever met her?" Tevi asked.

Marith snorted. "She doesn't mix with the likes of us. I did see her predecessor once, but that was in the days before he was elected Guardian."

"A man can be Guardian?" Tevi said, stunned.

"Of course. Why not?" Marith was amused.

Tevi hung her head, trying to disguise her surprise. "Well... it's just, coming from the islands. I don't tend to think of men being in positions of power."

Marith smiled. "The only thing that affects someone's ability to wield power is whether or not they're a sorcerer. It's the most important, if not the only, real difference between people."

"On the islands we'd say the most important difference is between men and women." Tevi said thoughtfully.

"That's silly. There's a few minor physical differences, but none of them amount to anything significant."

Tevi stared down at the dark waters lapping against the hull of the boat. She could think of one area where the differences were very significant, but did not want to raise the subject. The traders had never commented on her lack of interest in the young men they had met on their travels, nor asked why she had left the islands, and Tevi was not about to risk their friendship by telling them.

"My people would say that men are naturally inferior to women." Tevi said at last.

This time Marith laughed aloud, "And that's even sillier. You can only get away with it because you don't have sorcerers. On the mainland any baby, male or female, born into any family, might grow up to be a sorcerer. It's a hard job trying to act innately superior to someone who can incinerate you with a single word."

"I'm not trying to justify my people's beliefs; just trying to explain why I have problems sometimes."

"I understand. You're doing alright." Marith reached out and squeezed Tevi's shoulder affectionately.

"I can see that sorcerers create problems for hereditary rulers." Tevi said, although she had a gut feeling her grandmother would do fine, regardless of the political system.

"The power structure of your islands could only work if everyone was basically the same."

"But men and women..." Tevi let her sentence trail away, no longer certain quite what she still believed.

"It doesn't count for anything." Marith stated confidently. "If ever you meet a sorcerer you'll see what I mean."

Tevi decided it was wiser not to push the point. The two women remained on deck, talking quietly, until the last light faded and the city was lost to the night.

*****

The traders found lodgings at a comfortable inn not far from the docks. They took a light lunch in the main room, seated with the other guests at a long oak table. Sun streamed through the thick glass of the windows, casting bands of green light over the floor. From outside came the sounds of the city.

With the meal over, Marith pushed back her chair and stood up. "I'll go and finalise the sale of the spice." she volunteered.

"I suppose you want me to see the guild auditor." Verron said with a heavy sigh.

"Oh, go on. You love presenting the accounts." Marith grinned mischievously as she headed for the door, followed by Derry who eagerly leapt from his chair.

"Can I come too?" he piped.

"If you want." Marith held the door open for him and the pair departed, bound for the spice market.

"Do you want me to come with you?" Kimal asked his father cautiously.

"It wouldn't be a bad idea for you to see how the accounting goes." Kimal's face fell, and his father took pity on him. "But I know you'll have more fun showing Tevi around the city." He smiled. "I'll see you back here for supper."

Tevi and Kimal accompanied Verron as far as the trader's guildhall. It was an imposing structure, with gabled roof and half-timbered walls. Fanciful beasts were carved into the stone lintels over the windows. The three parted company at the arched gateway and the younger pair spent the afternoon strolling around the streets of the city.

There were wide tree-lined avenues, linked by narrow allies that twisted and branched, occasionally opening out into paved squares. Shops sold a bewildering array of goods. Tevi had no idea what much of it was. The size and wealth of Lyremouth overwhelmed her. All the guilds had halls, and there appeared to be some form of competition to determine which profession could out-do all the rest. She was also surprised to find there were no city walls, as if Lyremouth, or the Coven, were boasting of its impregnability.

On one wide thoroughfare they were passed by an open carriage, complete with uniformed footmen. Sunlight sparkled off the inlaid gilt and polished wood. Tevi pointed at the passenger. "Who's she?"

"It's 'he'. And he's the head of the potters' guild." Kimal replied. "You can tell from the crest on the door."

Tevi watched the carriage disappear down the street, uncertain of whether the symbol related to the passenger's occupation or gender, or possibly both. Before she could ask for clarification, Kimal had disappeared into a shop. Tevi leant against a tree and waited for his return. After a little thought she was pretty sure the crest would be the mark of the potters' guild, like the crossed swords were for mercenaries. Tevi smiled ruefully, thinking it would not be such a bad idea if Protectorate citizens wore badges to proclaim their gender. She still had great difficulty telling the sexes apart. On the other side of the street a couple of young lovers ambled along, arms around waists. For the life of her, Tevi could not tell which one was the woman.

Kimal reappeared, carrying a parcel, which he opened to display a tiny ivory figure of a horse - a midwinter's gift for his sister. He talked of her as they continued their stroll.

"Arnet's been working up north, but she'll be home for midwinter. I can't wait to see her again, I've missed her."

"Your parents have as well." Tevi had heard the ache in Marith's voice when she spoke of her daughter. Tevi was caught by the barbed thought that there would be no similar distress in Red's voice when speaking of her.

Kimal carried on, oblivious. "Oh, I know, but Arnet was never interested in trading. Her only real love is horses - doesn't care about its shape or size. As long as it's got four legs and neighs, she's happy."

"Didn't your parents mind her not becoming a trader?" Tevi asked, trying to forget her own situation.

"Why should they?"

Tevi smiled ruefully. "Where I come from it was the done thing. You had to follow in your mother's footsteps."

"Like having kings and queens and things?"

Tevi was about to correct the mention of kings, but it did not really matter. She nodded and said, "Yes."

Kimal shrugged. "It wouldn't make sense on the mainland. Power is always dependant solely on ability. I guess the guilds mimic the Coven. All our leaders are elected by their members."

"It's fair." Tevi could see the point.

"And it makes sense. Anything else would be a very chancy way of arranging things. I mean, just because your mother or your grandmother were good at something doesn't mean you will be as well, does it? You might be absolutely hopeless."

That was altogether too close to home, Tevi decided to change the direction of the conversation. She asked, "Do you have any other brothers or sisters?"

"Mama and papa had two other children, but uncle Ged and his partner are their parents now. We'll be seeing them when we get home."

"He adopted them even though their true parents were alive? Isn't that unusual?" Tevi was a little surprised.

Kimal shook his head. "No. Happens all the time in the Protectorate. Obviously a lot of people won't produce their own children so they adopt any spare ones their siblings or cousins have."

The 'obviously' did not follow in Tevi's experience, but much of what she was told about the Protectorate baffled her, and Kimal seemed to have a particular knack for throwing her off-balance. She was saved any further confusion by their arrival at the open parkland surrounding the buildings of the Coven.

Once upon a time, when Lyremouth had been an insignificant village, the Coven had been located some way removed from the dwellings of ordinary folk. With the passage of years, Lyremouth had grown into a great capital, yet none of the new buildings had encroached on the land around the Coven. Tevi guessed it was due to nobody wanting the sorcerers as close neighbours rather than a sense of aesthetics. The buildings were nothing to look at, and the open panorama only served to emphasise it.

The tower of the Guardian stood proudly in the centre, but the remaining structures were an unplanned jumble of styles and sizes. The walls were old and plain. When compared to many of the guildhalls, they seemed humble, even dilapidated. The few touches of elegance or grandeur appeared to have been tacked on as an afterthought.

Tevi shook her head. "It's not as impressive as I expected. The temple at Kradja was more to look at." Her disappointment showed in her voice.

Kimal grinned back at her. "When you're as important as the Coven you don't have to resort to awesome brickwork to remind people of the fact."

To bear out his words, groups of travellers from across the known world were gathered at the edge of the Coven grounds, looking at the buildings with expressions ranging from apprehension to reverence. The onlookers even included a small party of dwarves, who babbled excitedly among themselves in their clipped guttural language. Nobody else could understand what they were saying but, judging by their actions, they were having an intense debate about the architectural virtues of the flying buttress.

In the middle of the grounds was a low outcrop of granite. At its highest point it barely reached shoulder level, and it was dominated by an ancient oak tree. There seemed nothing noteworthy about the rock, yet many of those watching were giving it a great deal of attention.

"What's that?" Tevi asked.

"The Heart of the Protectorate. The spot were Keovan sat and looked out onto the world." Kimal replied.

"Who was Keovan?" It was a name Tevi had heard before.

"A sorcerer. He died 447 years ago. He lived in a hut on the site of the Coven. He sat every day on the rock and talked to anyone who would stay and listen."

"He founded the Protectorate?" Tevi surmised.

Kimal shook his head. "No - five of his students did. Keovan himself never did much, except bewail the state of the world and the futility of life. He felt very guilty about a lot of things."

"Did he do much harm?"

"None at all."

"But no good either?"

"He did - sort of. He was the strongest sorcerer of his day. His reputation kept trouble at bay, so the land around here had peace. After he died none of his students had enough ability to take his place. Everyone assumed the region would be swallowed up by another sorcerer's empire. But his students had gained a more expansive worldview from him, or something like that. They agreed to work together and swore a pact with the townsfolk of Lyremouth. Other sorcerers joined them, and that was the beginning of the Coven and the Protectorate."

"And they kept the rock." Tevi grinned as she spoke.

"Oh yes. It's used every year for a ceremony on midsummer's day. They all troop out here and guild-masters swear allegiance to the Coven on behalf of their members. Then the Guardian swears on behalf of the Coven to defend the Protectorate and help the citizens. After that, all the new sorcerers are introduced to the people. And then they stand on the rock and repeat the Guardian's oath and are given their black amulets."

Tevi frowned. "I don't see what the sorcerers get out of it. If they are as powerful as you say, why don't they just take what they want?"

Kimal looked thoughtful for a moment. "Not all sorcerers are power-mad maniacs. Before the Coven, a lot of them used to be hermits out in the wilds. You still come across them from time to time. The empire builders were always much more rare, but the ones who just wanted to sit in a cave and think about life used to let them get on with it. Then the Coven came along, and gave them a chance to talk to each other and write books. I think the Coven gave the thinkers something to fight for - thankfully. If the Coven falls the Protectorate goes with it."

Tevi and Kimal stood for a while surveying the buildings. The walls did not seem to be in immediate danger of collapse, despite the concern of the dwarves. They eventually left the site and headed back through the winding streets of Lyremouth.

*****

Verron and Marith were busy after dinner that night, totalling up the money and making plans for the final stage of their journey. Their work was interrupted by Tevi, who hesitantly entered the room, and slipped into a seat at the end of the table. The serious expression on her face caused enough concern for Marith to roll up the map she had been studying and for Verron to put down his pen.

"Is something wrong?" Marith asked.

"No... not really." Tevi said.

"But?" Marith prompted.

"I've been thinking."

"About what?"

Tevi took a deep breath, then spoke in a rush. "I appreciate the offer to spend winter with you, but... did Cade say anything about me joining the mercenaries, because I feel it's probably a good idea."

Neither of the traders looked happy. Marith was the first to speak, "Cade mentioned it to us, since we'd have to vouch for you. Of course we're willing to do that."

Verron eyes were fixed on the table as he picked at some wax that had been spilt. "If it's what you want..." His voice trailed off before picking up. "Not that there's anything wrong with the mercenaries' guild, but its members don't tend to reach a ripe old age.".

"If I want to live in the Protectorate I should join a guild, else I'm stuck as an itinerant labourer. And, I fear, the mercenaries are the only guild I'm trained for." Tevi said, a little sadly.

"We'd be sorry to part company with you." Verron's voice was sincere.

"It needn't be forever. Once I'm a member, there's nothing to stop you hiring me officially - if you want."

Marith brightened up. "That's an idea. There are so few mercenaries who know how to take care of a wagon team properly."

"Then we'd have the waggoner's guild down our necks." Verron glared at his partner.

"There's nothing to say a mercenary can't..."

Before the discussion could get waylaid, Tevi interrupted. "So if it's all right with you I'll go and visit Cade at his parents' house tomorrow and tell him I want to join."

The traders hesitated a second before answering.

"Yes, of course."

"We'll come with you."

*****

Two mornings later Tevi stood on a riverside wharf. Autumn was advanced and her breath formed clouds of steam in the chill dawn air. The family of traders solemnly hugged her in turn before boarding one of the river barges. The boat would take them on the last step of the trade route, ten days up-river, to their home. Once everyone was aboard, the crew loosened the mooring rope and pushed the barge away from the dock.

Verron called out. "You won't forget how to get to Cottersford will you? Once you're there, anyone will tell you how to find us. We're always at home for two months either side of midwinter."

Marith added her voice, "And we always take the same route. At any other time of the year, you'll know where to find us. I hope we meet again soon, but if not, farewell Tevi."

"Farewell Marith, Verron, and you too, Kimal and Derry." Tevi called back. The words sounded awfully final, but it was too late to change her mind.

The barge soon reached open water and the oarsmen set to work. Tevi stood and watched until the craft was lost from sight amidst other traffic on the busy river Lyre. She turned and retraced her steps through the city.

The working day was just beginning. Shopkeepers were removing shutters and setting out their wares. Customers began to cluster, ready to buy provisions for the day. As Tevi neared the centre of town, the noise level grew. Peddlers shouted their wares, rowdy groups of dockers headed for the harbour, children on errands raced by, calling to each other

A wide, tree-lined street led Tevi straight to the largest square, in the heart of the city. The grandest civic buildings could be found there - the law courts, the mayor's palace. Standing proudly was the most imposing guildhall of all, displaying the wealth and prestige of its members. Without hesitation, Tevi walked up to the main entrance and entered, passing under the sign of two crossed swords in red and gold.

*****

The point of the man's sword came straight for Tevi's heart. She managed to bring her own weapon across to parry, while pivoting on one heel to avoid the lunge. The sword missed by a hair's breadth, but her desperate defence left her hopelessly unbalanced. A long step back stopped her falling, however her opponent pressed forward his attack before she had time to recover and again she was forced to concede ground.

The wall of the hall was not far behind her. Tevi knew she was running out of room to manoeuvre. In a bid to gain space, she launched her own attack, a series of sharp jabs. Her opponent evaded them easily and immediately shifted back into offensive mode. With lightning speed, the edge of his sword flicked upwards diagonally. Tevi blocked, at the cost of yet another retreat. She felt her heel touch the wall. Her opponent smiled, dropped his guard, and took six paces backwards, generously allowing her more space. Tevi took a deep breath and stepped forward. The man was extremely good, easily the most skilful warrior she had ever encountered. It was hardly surprising - he was the senior swordmaster of the Guild of Mercenary Warriors.

Their eyes met. Again, the swordmaster raised his wooden practice sword and gestured with his free hand, inviting her to attack. Tevi clenched her teeth. She could not defeat the swordmaster by skill - he was quicker and vastly more experienced than her. Tevi's only advantage lay in strength. Dropping her left hand to the hilt of the sword, she leapt forward, swinging her whole body into a double-fisted stroke that caught her opponent by surprise. The two swords met with a resounding crack, striking close by the cross-guards. As ever, the swordmaster's timing was perfect, but he was completely unable to withstand the force of the blow. The impact sent the wooden sword spinning from his hand. It bounced off the wall of the training hall and skidded across the floor, finally coming to rest, some thirty feet away. The swordmaster treated it to a long, rueful stare while shaking his jarred wrist.

From the far side of the hall came a burst of assorted noises - generally indicative of both support and good humour. The swordmaster scowled in feigned belligerence at the three other nominees sitting at the side. The sounds ceased, only to be replaced by three broad grins. Everyone knew the swordmaster was an amiable character, slow to push his rank and indulgent of high spirits in his pupils. He was consequently well-liked by all. Once a semblance of order had been re-established, the swordmaster turned back to Tevi and nodded thoughtfully.

"Crude, but very effective." He granted. "You'll do."

"Thank you, sir." Tevi said.

"But it's risky to rely solely on strength. You must pay closer attention. I was able to catch you with some very simple traps. You can't afford to let your opponent get away with things like that. Watch and anticipate."

One side of Tevi's mouth twitched downwards. "Would you be surprised if I said you weren't the first person to tell me that?"

"No, but I'm surprised you haven't taken more notice of the advice." the swordmaster said sharply.

"I try, sir."

"Not hard enough. Your sword teacher should have made more effort to help you work out the problem. Generally speaking you've been well trained from an early age."

"I started when I was three."

"Quite right too. You'd be surprised at the number of wide-eyed hopefuls who arrive here. They have no training but think they can pick up a sword and become a hero overnight." He turned to include the other nominees in the discussion. "It's a point to remember - swords are like some musical instruments. If you don't start young enough you'll never develop the right muscles and reflexes. If a child hasn't started training by the age of seven and doesn't keep practising all the time their bodies are developing, then they'll never be anything other than average and a very poor average at that. So, if ever you get an untrained teenager begging and pleading with you to take them on as apprentice - don't. You're not doing them any favours, just raising false hopes."

The other nominees glanced towards Cayell. It was no secret that she was the worst swordsman among them. However Cayell was unconcerned; her skills lay in other directions. Basic competence with a sword was all she aspired to.

The swordmaster resumed his appraisal of Tevi. "You know, I'm loath to suggest it, but do you have any experience with a battle-axe?"

"Some, it was..." The rest of Tevi's reply was drowned by shouts from the other nominees.

"They're only fit for chopping wood."

"Tell him you're a warrior, not a lumberjack."

Cayell's voice came loudest of all. "Axes are only for warriors too stupid to work out which end of a sword to take hold of."

"Ignore the hecklers." The swordmaster dismissed the objections with a wave of his hand. "It's true axes are unsubtle. They come down to how much force you can put behind them - which in your case is quite considerable. It was a classic axe stroke you used to disarm me. You're not bad with a sword but you can't structure your defence. With an axe you wouldn't need to bother."

Behind his back Cayell was shaking her head vigorously. Tevi decided to talk to her later and gave a non-committal response. "I'll think about it."

At that moment, the gong signalling the end of the morning session rang out. The swordmaster collected the practise weapons and dismissed the nominees, saying, "I'm going to pass you, Tevi. You can report to the assessor, after lunch. But I want to see the rest of you back here."

The four nominees left the practice hall and filed through the maze of buildings. Long ago, the mercenary guildhall had been laid out to an elegant plan, which had been modified and added to over the intervening centuries. Very little of the original design now remained. It resulted in a bewildering network of passages, doorways and courtyards, sandwiched between the old and the new. Even after the best part of a month, Tevi still had great difficulty finding her way around. In contrast, Cayell seemed to have the entire guildhall mapped out in her head. She was never lost for direction, or for something to say. Her body was lightly built, but had an acrobat's balance and agility, which helped hold her own in the practice bouts. Her footsteps were silent, but her personality was loud. Despite her size, she was the undisputed leader of the nominees, and not just in finding the dining hall.

"Down here, it's a short cut." Cayell called as she disappeared in the gap between two buildings.

"Are you sure?" asked Perrin, an affable young man with the general proportions, and appetite, of an ox. His six foot six inches of solid muscle made him the strongest of all the nominees, apart from Tevi.

"Of course - don't you trust me?" Cayell sounded hurt.

"Well yes, but dinner's important. I want to be sure I'm in time for seconds."

"And maybe thirds." added Rymar as he pushed Perrin down the alleyway.

In the rear was Tevi. She studied her comrades' backs as they walked in single file between the two buildings. Cayell was completely lost beyond Perrin's bulk, though the high sound of her laughter drowned out his base rumble. Rymar was a head shorter than Perrin, yet broad shouldered and athletic. They were a good bunch, Tevi thought, although Rymar looked like he could be a hell-raiser when let loose. He was clearly on his best behaviour while being assessed, but the wildness showed at the edges.

The four nominees emerged directly opposite the guild refectory. A steady flow of mercenaries streamed through the door. The air inside was thick with the smell of food, and the hubbub of conversation. The tables all held large pots of stew and trenchers of bread to use as plates. Tevi and the others wove their way down the hall to the table reserved for nominees. Referred to as 'the babies' table', it left them in no doubt as to their status in the guild. There were currently nine nominees for assessment. Apart from Cayell and Tevi, there was only one other woman, which, Tevi had discovered, fairly represented the male to female ratio of the guild.

Once they had sat down, Tevi addressed the table in general. "What's so bad about a battle-axe?"

"Poor image." said Perrin, who was squeezed into the place directly opposite her.

Cayell joined in, a broad grin on her fine-boned features, "Don't worry Tevi, you're great with a sword. There are precious few nominees who've been able to disarm the swordmaster."

"She didn't!" someone else said in disbelief.

"She did." Perrin affirmed.

"Even so, he might be right. An axe might suit me better." Tevi said.

Cayell shook her head. "Women warriors who use axes are a stock joke character. As I said in the hall, axe-men tend to be warriors who are poorly endowed with brains..."

Perrin butted in "Women are out-numbered in the guild, particularly as warriors. They usually specialise in a field that requires less strength..."

Not to be outdone, Cayell cut back in. "...and more intelligence - like tracker or scout. Me, for example." She threw out her hands in an extrovert gesture that was met with good-humoured jeers from the nominees, and disapproving frowns from the other tables.

"I've got the strength for an axe." Tevi pointed out.

"You've also got brains, and you'll get work easier if you let people know it." Cayell said.

"How does that follow?"

Cayell stopped eating to explain. "Girls know they can't count on developing the full strength necessary for fighting - boys can't either, come to that, but they're more likely to. Most girls who want to be mercenaries try to specialise, as Perrin said. Being a scout is ideal. Women are often smaller and lighter so we make less noise. We can go further on less food and can withstand harsher weather. Women warriors tend to be girls who lacked the brains to do anything clever, but turned out lucky with the physique. Axe wielding just compounds the effect. No axe-man is expected to be a genius."

"Which could all work to Tevi's advantage." Dale, another of the nominees, said thoughtfully. He was a lanky lad with a serious face masking a mischievous sense of humour. People looked in his direction with surprise as he continued talking. "Just think. In a battle, someone would see Tevi with an axe and think 'Oh yes, axe-woman - not going to be too bright'. Then Tevi could say something really clever and hit them while they were still stunned with astonishment. They'd be a sitting target." Laughter and a few flicked peas greeted this idea.

"Someone told me that, in the Protectorate, you don't make assumptions about people based on their sex." Tevi said.

For a moment Cayell's face looked a little blank, then she shrugged and said, "I suppose it depends on what assumptions. Sometimes you have to play the odds."

"Like you don't expect people from over the Spur to be particularly alert." Perrin said - a playful dig at Rymar, whose accent marked him as coming from that region. Tevi's forehead furrowed in thought. The indolence of people from the east of the Protectorate was an item of folklore she had already encountered, yet Rymar was one of the quicker nominees - and astute enough not to rise to the bait.

Cayell laughed and added, "Or sorcerers who specialise in prophesy. For some reason they all tend to be..." She paused with a frown on her face "Now, what's the word?"

Suggestions came from around the table.

"Neurotic."

"Highly-strung."

"Unbalanced."

Cayell waved a piece of carrot. "No, no. 'Sensitive.' That's the word I wanted." She pointed the carrot at Tevi. "Now remember, if ever you meet a seer from the Coven the word is 'sensitive'. Unless you have some great desire to experience life as a toad."

Tevi chewed thoughtfully, "But I guess nobody dares to call axe-men many names to their faces either."

"Oh, as long as the word has more than three syllables you're quite safe." Cayell retorted.

Once the laughter had died, the banter continued with a bawdy story about the 'mad axe-woman of Rizen'. Many of the jokes were lost on Tevi. She had not come to grips with all the necessary slang usage, but she got the general idea of the perception of axes and their users.

*****

Once the meal was over Tevi left the others and managed to find her way to the guild assessor's quarters, needing only to stop twice to ask directions. The clerk in the anteroom informed her that the assessor was busy interviewing someone else. Tevi wandered back outside and stood on the low veranda at the front of the building, watching people passing through the courtyard below. It was a mellow autumn afternoon. The sun shone brightly on ornate stonework surrounding the open grass area. Seagulls wheeled against the blue sky overhead.

Directly opposite the assessor's rooms was the guild infirmary. Many of the occupants had been placed in the open, to get what benefit they could from the sun and fresh air. The invalids sat on a bench running the length of the courtyard, tightly wrapped in warm blankets. Some laughed and joked among themselves, swapping stories and accounts of their exploits. Some sat in silence. Tevi studied a gaunt young man, no more than a year or two older than herself. Both his legs ended in stumps just above the knees. Next to him sat a middle-aged woman, one arm paralysed and useless, and the side of her face a scarred wreck, leaving her undoubtedly blind in one eye.

Tevi was certain the location of the assessor's rooms, next to the infirmary, was no accident. All the hopeful applicants had to walk past the grim reminder of the fate that might await them. She suspected the warning had little effect. From what she had seen most mercenaries were over-confident of their own abilities, sure the worst could never happen to them. Many were blind to everything they did not want to see. They would not know or care where the infirmary was, until they were carried in. They were the ones who would begrudge the quarter share of their income the guild took; unaware of where the money went, until they became the beneficiaries.

Ten minutes later the door behind Tevi opened and a tall mercenary strode out, followed by a young woman, presumably his apprentice about to be nominated for guild membership. Neither paid any attention to the row of people sitting opposite. Tevi wondered if that did not hurt more than all the scars - to no longer be worthy of notice.

After a last, long look at the invalids Tevi turned and entered. The clerk pointed her to a small room at the rear of the building. She found the assessor, a stout, elderly woman, sitting in a high-backed chair at one side of a large fireplace. Despite the warm day, a few logs burned vigorously in the open grate.

Tevi halted mid-way into the room, "The swordmaster told me to report to you, ma'am." she said hesitantly.

"Ah, yes. Please." The assessor gestured to a second chair as she spoke, and waited until Tevi was seated before continuing. "I'm happy to say we've decided to accept your nomination."

It was more or less the announcement Tevi was expecting but, instead of replying, she stared into the fire with a frown on her face. For a short while, only the crackling of the flames broke the silence.

"You're not looking overjoyed. Have you had second thoughts?" The assessor prompted her gently.

"No ma'am. I'm pleased you've accepted me. It's what I came here for. But I was watching the invalids opposite before I came in and I was thinking about them." Tevi turned to look directly at the assessor. "That's what we're supposed to do, isn't it?"

"We would prefer our members join with as few illusions as possible. We get too many young idiots, dreaming of glory." the assessor said dryly.

"I don't think I have any unrealistic hopes."

"No, I don't think you have." The assessor watched Tevi thoughtfully for a moment before continuing in a brisker tone. "You realise, of course, that the assessment is not just about fighting skill. We could have evaluated that taking considerably less time than the twenty days you've been here. If you decide to join the guild, you'll receive its mark - a single sword tattooed on each hand. With that mark the guild is declaring that it believes you to be competent, honest and reliable." A smile twitched the corner of the assessor's mouth. "Although we're not yet backing our judgement with money. It will be some years before we're likely to guarantee you, and add the second sword."

"I understand that." Tevi said.

"It's important that the mark of the guild mean something. Our livelihood depends on people trusting the integrity of guild members. The time a nominee spends here constitutes part of a general appraisal, which has been all the more important in your case, as you haven't served a formal apprenticeship. But we're quite satisfied. In our judgement, you will not do anything to bring the guild into disrepute and we're more than willing to accept you as a member. The final decision lies with you. We don't allow people to desert the guild once they've accepted its mark. Those we expel leave their tattoos, and their hands, behind."

The assessor stood up and walked to the small window. When she turned back, her voice was quiet and measured. "I'm going to suggest you think about it for this afternoon. Sleep on it, then come and see me first thing tomorrow. If you decide to join, we'll move you to the junior members' quarters. You'll need to be instructed in the first level of guild passwords, which shouldn't take you too long to learn..." The assessor rolled her eyes to the ceiling with a sigh. "...unlike some other nominees we've had. And we'll make an appointment for you with the tattooist. So.... unless you have any questions?"

"No, thank-you ma'am. I think I know all I need in order to make my mind up."

"However you decide, I wish you well."

The assessor walked over and held the door open. Tevi gave a respectful nod and walked back into the autumn sunlight. Her aimless steps took her out of the guildhall and into the streets of Lyremouth. She spent the afternoon wandering about and thinking, although in all honesty she had little choice. As a mercenary, she could earn a good living. Without a guild, she could be nothing more than a poorly paid casual labourer.

Standing by the main docks, she watched the ships sail out across the harbour and disappear over the horizon. If she closed her eyes, from the sounds and smell of the sea she could imagine herself back on Storenseg. It occurred to her that guild membership would be one further, irrevocable, step away from the islands. Tevi shook her head sadly at the folly of her thoughts and left the quay, heading into the busy streets of the city. There was no going back.

Chapter 7: Dishonourable Conduct

By the time Tevi returned to the guildhall the evening meal was in progress. Luckily, she arrived at the babies' table before Perrin had embarked on his third helping, so there was still food left. The others shifted along to make room for her. Even before she had sat down it was obvious Cayell was in high spirits.

"They've decided I'm more help than hindrance in a fight. Now they're going to see what I can do as a scout." Cayell was almost bouncing up and down with excitement. Tevi wondered whether the scout had been more concerned than she had let on.

"What tests do you get now?" Tevi asked.

"Oh, dreadful, awful things that would make you shudder just to hear about." Despite her words, Cayell was grinning as she spoke. "I'll probably be dumped in the middle of nowhere and have to survive off the land, while a team of hunters try to catch me."

"And you'll have to eat spiders." Perrin said, smiling, before he took a large bite of his food.

"Big, juicy, tasty spiders?" Dale enquired innocently.

The young woman Tevi had seen leaving the assessor's rooms was also sitting at the table. She now joined in. "There's no such thing as a tasty spider. Believe me. I speak from experience."

"Are you a scout as well?" Perrin asked eagerly.

"Er... yes. My name's Aroche. I'm just starting my appraisal."

"Right, well, while Cay's away, do you mind making it your job to find short cuts to the refectory?"

Aroche smiled. "I'll do my best, if you think it's important."

"We're talking about Perrin's stomach - of course it's important." Rymar quipped.

When the table had quietened, Tevi asked Cayall, "How long will you be gone?"

"About ten days. You can take my bed while I'm away, if you want." Predictably, Cayell had managed to wangle one of the better positions in the nominees' dormitory.

Tevi shook her head. "I won't need it. I've been accepted into the guild. I'll be moving to the members' quarters tomorrow."

At the news, Cayell cheered loudly and punched the air, drawing stern looks from other tables. She pointed at Tevi. "Promise me you'll save the celebration until I get back. There's not time to do it justice tonight, and with any luck we can celebrate my acceptance as well."

Confronted with such exuberance Tevi could do nothing but agree. It occurred to her that, for the first time since childhood, she felt like an accepted member of a group. The camaraderie of the guild enveloped its members with a sense of belonging. She had been very fond of Marith and Verron, but they had been more like aunt and uncle to her. Cayell and the other nominees were her friends.

That night Tevi got ready to sleep in the nominees' dormitory for the last time. Light-hearted banter was flying around - as were pillows and items of clothing. Tevi joined in, mainly by ducking at the appropriate points. She felt relaxed and happy for the first time since her interview with the assessor that afternoon.

*****

Eleven days later, Tevi was wandering along a colonnaded walkway that she hoped would lead her back to the junior members' quarters, when she was startled by a loud whoop. Running towards her was a figure, that was presumably Cayell, on account of the general size and shape, though the exterior was so covered in mud and other debris that almost anybody or anything could have lurked beneath.

"I passed. They're going to accept me." the figure screamed, thereby confirming its identity. Cayell would have flung herself onto her friend and hugged her, but Tevi held the mud-covered scout at arms' length.

"Cay! Look at the state of you!" Tevi exclaimed.

"I've only just got back." Cayell replied, as if it was some sort of explanation.

"I guessed, but I hadn't realised mud fights formed part of your appraisal."

"It's camouflage. I had to blend into the countryside."

"You've been somewhere where walking cow-pats are commonplace?" Tevi said dryly.

"Um... actually most of it is due to a slight accident on the way into town." Cayell grinned mischievously

"Why don't you tell me about it on the way to the bathhouse?"

"I've got to go and see the assessor." Cayell paused and inspected herself. "Or do you think I should get cleaned up first?"

"It might be a good idea. I've seen more presentable scarecrows thrown out as scrap."

"You're probably right." Cayell reached out and grabbed Tevi's hands. Holding them palm down she inspected the tattooed red and gold swords. Her eyes met Tevi's while another huge grin plastered itself across her face. "Very pretty. We've got to go and celebrate. Get some of the others to meet up tonight."

"I know Dale and Rymar will be keen, probably Perrin as well."

"That'll be great." Cayell began to walk away backwards.

"Then you can tell us all about the slight accident." Tevi suggested.

"Only if you promise not to laugh. It was a touch unfortunate." She raised one hand to her head in a melodramatic fashion, and then grinned again before disappearing in the general direction of the guild bathhouse.

*****

The Golden Swan was a noisy tavern with grimy, splintered tables, and lanterns burning coarse, foul-smelling oil. The straw on the floor appeared not to have been changed since the founding of the Coven. The only heating came from the largely unwashed bodies of the customers. However the beer was cheap, and the bar-staff kept selling it long after the more respectable establishments of Lyremouth had closed.

In a poorly lit corner at the back, the five young mercenaries had monopolised a small table. They were studiously trying to get drunk, and meeting with considerable success. A succession of toasts was made to the new guild members. These included Rymar, who was also sporting swords on the backs of his hands, only two days old and still slightly itchy.

During a lull in the banter Perrin leaned across the table to Tevi and said, "Do you remember what we were saying about women with axes? Well, as a prime example, have you seen that Big Bron is back in the guildhall?"

Tevi shook her head.

"Oh you must have seen her." Dale chipped in. "You know the one - six foot two, square, long blond hair and has a copper torque around her neck that could double as a wagon-wheel. She has a permanently pained expression on her face, as if she's just sat on something uncomfortable."

Tevi raised her eyes to the ceiling; she had been mistaken yet again. "I thought that was a man."

"Now that's unusual." Cayell said seriously, "Most people mistake her for some sort of architectural support structure."

Rymar nudged Tevi's shoulder. "You wouldn't make that mistake if you'd seen her naked."

"YOU WHAT!!!" Even Cayell was almost speechless.

"Oh, no, no. Nothing like that." At the sight of the stunned faces, Rymar held up his hands in denial. "She was in the baths and someone swiped her clothes as a joke. Honest, it wasn't me. I'm not the suicidal type. But I was standing outside when she stormed out, looking for blood." He shook his head slowly. "What a sight - half a ton of scarred muscle charging towards me. I nearly made a mess of my underwear."

"You mean the sight of all that well-toned flesh didn't arouse your ardour?" Dale asked in mock surprise.

"Don't be a fool. She eats boys like me for breakfast." Rymar ran a finger around his collar.

"It could have been a cute beginning to a beautiful relationship for you and Bron."

"The words 'cute' and 'Bron' do not belong in the same sentence." Rymar sounded definite.

"You did it just then." Dale pointed out.

"Look... just take it from me. Romance was not in the air. Murder, yes. Romance, no."

"Probably just as well. They say Bron doesn't have much in the way of a sense of humour." Cayell joined in.

"And...?" Rymar prompted.

"From what I've heard, she'd need it with you." Cayell said innocently.

Rymar acted hurt. "That's a nasty, untrue, malicious rumour. I am a lover of great sophistication and skill - as I'll willingly demonstrate to anyone here." His expression changed to an idiotic leer and he rubbed his hands together. "Come on, any takers?"

"I would pick you up on the offer, but..." Perrin clasped a hand to his breast in a flamboyant gesture. "I am sworn to another."

Dale slid over and put his arm around Perrin's shoulder. His voice oozed sincere concern. "Look. You've got to learn to be adult about this. One night of passion with a mange-ridden sheep does not constitute a binding commitment - for either of you." he finished as everyone gave way to yelps of laughter.

Tevi wiped her eyes. Sometimes she was unable to tell whether people were being serious or not. Even when she had that much sorted out, she was often unsure of exactly what the point of the joke was. This, she realised, was a completely invented leg-pull.

Summoning her self-control, she looked steadily at Perrin. "Take no notice. They're just being very silly, and making things up. I'm sure she didn't really have mange and, even if she did, there are medical treatments. There's no reason why the two of you can't be very happy together."

At the sight of Perrin's expression Cayell curled forward, holding her sides and whimpering. Perrin stood up to his full height and looked down sternly at the rest. "If you're all going to act the fool, I'm going to buy another round of drinks." His features broke into a large grin.

Dale hugged Perrin round the waist. "Your logic's flawed, but I'll love you forever." He then fell backwards off his stool.

*****

By the time they left the tavern, none of them were capable of walking in a straight line unaided. They formed a row, five abreast, with their arms wrapped around each others' shoulders in an attempt to provide mutual support and marched back to the guildhall in time to a song about a young mercenary called 'mighty Marrick'. The lyrics related the tale of the hero's encounters with, among others, a ship full of pirates, a family of hill trolls and one very surprised dragon. Tevi had trouble understanding much of the song, it contained many slang phases and euphemisms, but she made enough sense of the words to know that it was both obscene and biologically impossible.

It took Cayell three attempts to get up the short flight of steps leading to the side entrance of the guildhall. Tevi stayed to help while the others went ahead. In the end Cayell literally crawled up the stairs, and then lay collapsed at the top, giggling. Tevi dragged her to her feet and propelled her forwards. Some distance ahead, the three men were embarking on a spirited repetition of the fourth verse.

The singers were crossing a small courtyard when a door at the side was flung open. A large shape blocked the light, almost filling the entrance. Tevi was about to step into the open, but Cayell grabbed her shoulder and pulled her back behind a pillar. "It's her - Big Bron."

While the two young women leaned against the pillar, biting their knuckles to stop from laughing, Bron loudly extolled the virtues of peace and quiet. She proceeded to give an unflattering account of the men and, by implication, their parents. Bron appeared to know only one adjective, but used it to great effect.

When they heard the door slam, Tevi and Cayell peered cautiously around the pillar. Their friends had fled and the courtyard lay deserted in the moonlight. With exaggerated care, they tiptoed across the open space, then rushed all the way to the junior members' quarters where Tevi had her room. They stumbled to a halt outside.

"I've got to go and see the assessor first thing tomorrow and confirm that I still want to join." Cayell gasped, trying to regain her breath. "Then I can move my things down here. Is there a spare room near yours?"

Tevi nodded. "I'll meet you up in the dormitory and give you a hand."

By way of acceptance Cayell flung her arms around Tevi and gave her a hug, which threatened to send the pair of them sprawling. They regained their balance and then Cayell stepped back. "Right then. Tomorrow, mid morning. See you there." She staggered away unsteadily, heading towards the nominees' dormitory, while quietly humming the chorus from 'mighty Marrick' under her breath.

*****

The nominees' dormitory was deserted the next morning, when Tevi and her hangover entered. From four high windows, a muted, grey light fell over pale blankets on the row of empty beds. To Tevi's bloodshot eyes, the effect was dazzling, and forced her to squint as she peered around. The pulse throbbed at her temples with hammer blows and waves of nausea threatened her hold on the contents of her stomach - or would have, had there been any.

She groped her way to Cayell's bed and fell, rather than sat, down, then she wrapped her hands about her head, as if trying to stop her skull from splitting. For a long time, only her gasped breathing broke the silence, as she sucked air into her lungs through clenched teeth.

The door behind her swung open with a crash. "Oh dear, oh dear. Look what the cat's dragged in." Cayell's voice boomed mercilessly down the dormitory.

"Go away, I hate you." Tevi mumbled in reply, drawing a peal of laughter from Cayell.

"Yes, I can see you're going to be a bundle of fun today."

This time Tevi only groaned.

"Don't worry. Sit still. I haven't got much to pack." Cayell said.

When Tevi still made no reply Cayell sat on the bed opposite and studied her friend's face dispassionately. "Feeling rough, aye? I wondered how you were when you didn't show up for breakfast."

"Please don't mention food." Tevi muttered.

"Best thing for you. Come on."

Without waiting for a response, Cayell thrust a hand under Tevi's armpit and yanked her to her feet. She pushed and coaxed Tevi all the way to the refectory. The smell of cooking from the kitchens made Tevi's stomach heave, but her protests were ignored and Tevi felt too ill to put up much of a fight. She collapsed at the table where she was dumped and listened with half an ear as Cayell browbeat the staff into providing breakfast, water and a mug of something called the chef's special. The food and drink arrived shortly. Tevi could only stare at them in horror.

"I can't eat."

"Yes you can." Cayell said firmly.

"I feel ill."

"That's obvious. Look, take this. It's the chef's special remedy. Mercenaries swear by it." Cayell thrust a mug into Tevi's hand.

"By it or at it?" Tevi asked.

"Down it in one. It will make you feel better."

It was too much hard work to withstand Cayell injunctions. Tevi drank the potion, then the water and started gingerly on the food. She hated to admit it but Cayell was right. Her stomach settled and the pounding in her head eased.

"That's better. You're getting some colour back in your face." Cayell said.

"Hmmph."

"You're supposed to say 'Thank you Cay'." Cayell's tone was cheerful, but hardly sympathetic.

"You can't expect gratitude from the dead." Tevi quipped grumpily.

"Oh, you'll survive."

"I'm not certain if I want to."

Cayell laughed. "It's amazing the philosophical insights alcohol can bring. Apparently it took Keovan 40 years of meditation to question whether life was worth living. One night and twelve pints of beer and you've matched him."

Tevi managed her first real smile of the day, and asked, "Was that how much we drank last night?"

"I'm not sure. I lost count. If it's any consolation, Dale and Perrin both looked pretty green this morning, and they were due at the archery butts straight after breakfast."

"You're looking alright."

"Practice." Cayell said primly.

Tevi finished off the last of the bread and drained the tankard of water. The blinding headache had shifted to a rumbling throb at the base of her skull. Tevi massaged it with one hand, then grinned ruefully at her companion. "I guess we can go and collect your things now."

"If you're ready."

"Sure... and thanks Cay." Tevi said softly.

"Anytime."

Grey clouds hung low in the sky over the guildhall; rain was not far off. The wind was cold and damp. People scurried along with their heads down and collars up. Seagulls sat despondently on the roofs. As the two women walked through the gloomy maze of pathways Cayell slipped her arm through Tevi's. Despite the beneficial effects of the chef's potion, Tevi was grateful for the additional support for her shaky legs.

Back in the dormitory Cayell began to assemble her belongings, not that she, or any of the nominees, had much in the way of possessions. A chest at the foot of her bed held everything she owned. There was little need of Tevi's help - fortunately. Although she felt vastly better than when she had first entered the dormitory, she certainly was not up to any vigorous activity. Her body ached as if it had been put through a wringer. The pounding in her head threatened to return.

Tevi wandered across the room to stare out of a window. The sky was darker and the first few splats of rain struck the glass. "You had no doubts about joining the guild?" She asked over her shoulder.

"No. It's what I've always wanted."

"Don't your parents mind? Or were they mercenaries as well?" Even as the words left her mouth Tevi bit her tongue. It seemed to be an unspoken rule that the nominees did not mention their families. Cayell paused in her packing, and her face grew sombre.

"Little papa is worried sick. But he won't stand in my way." Cayell said eventually.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry."

"It's all right." Cayell sighed. She shook her head, as if trying to clear her thoughts and returned to her packing. "Little papa is a forester. He was the one who taught me how to live in the wild. He hoped I'd follow him. When he realised I wasn't interested in trees he wanted me to be apprenticed to a fur trapper. Big papa helped me talk him round. I want to pit myself against an enemy who's my equal, not an animal. I think all scouts feel like that."

"Does Aroche?"

"She's no scout." Cayell was dismissive.

"She said she was."

"She may have said it, but that doesn't make it true. My guess is she's an assassin."

"Assassin!" Tevi said in shock.

"There are other politer names, like personal security guard.'"

"Why did she lie?"

"Force of habit. It can become a way of life with those people. Or perhaps creating a false identity is part of her assessment. I don't know if anyone else has twigged her, but she can't fool a real scout."

"I know the guild has assassins in it, but I thought..." Tevi's words trailed off in confusion.

"That we're always good-guys?" Cayell suggested with a grin. "Don't worry, security guard isn't such a euphemism. Most guild assassins are hired by Protectorate traders who are going to places where murder is part of everyday business practice. Her training is all about poisons and traps and breaking into places. The knowledge works both ways - doing or preventing. In general, guild members go for the latter. I'm sure she'll spend most of her working life stopping people bumping off her employer. "

"But not all of it?" Tevi asked.

"Maybe not. But, in theory, there's nothing to stop a band of thieves hiring you or me to boost their numbers. However, the guild-masters don't like guild members fighting each other. They've also decided that theft doesn't contribute to long-term economic growth, and the more money honest citizens make, the more they can afford to pay us. So traders are in and bandits are out." By now, all of Cayell's things had been put into a haversack, or folded neatly into two piles. She looked over at Tevi and asked, "Are you all right to help carry?"

"As you said, I'll survive."

When they reached the outside door, they discovered the rain had arrived in full force. Large drops were drumming on the flagstones. Water washed down the sides of the doorway and dripped from the lintel. The distance was lost to the grey falling sheets.

Cayell grinned at Tevi. "We're going to have to run. Last one there gets wettest."

The two women raced between buildings, hurdling puddles and the occasional rivulet pouring from an overflowing gutter. Cayell led the way, charging through the entrance to the junior quarters at full pelt. Tevi was close behind. Even after the short run, their shoulders were soaked and hair stuck to their foreheads. Laughing and wiping the water from their eyes the pair of them walked down the narrow corridor.

The quarters had originally been one large open dormitory. During an expansion of the guildhall facilities, some years previous, it had been divided into individual small rooms by the erection of thin wooden partitions. Tevi halted outside one door and pushed it open. "This one's empty, and you're just three along from me."

Following Tevi into the room Cayell looked around. There was a narrow bunk and a chest. A wide shelf ran the length of the wall above the bed,. There was not much in the way of floor space. The light came from half a window, which the more recent partition had divided into two.

"It's small enough. They're certainly not splashing out on we lesser mortals." Cayell remarked.

Tevi deposited the pile she was carrying on top of the chest. "It's luxury, pure luxury. In the village I came from only the queen had her own room and she still slept on the ground. I hadn't seen a proper bed before I reached the mainland. At first, I used to lie awake at night, frightened I'd roll over in my sleep."

Cayell laughed and turned to face the other woman. Her expression changed from amusement to concern when she saw Tevi's face. "You've gone very pale. I don't think the run helped you."

"It will ease." However, the sick pounding had already returned. Specs of light danced before Tevi's eyes. She groaned and raised her hands to her head.

"Why don't you lie down while I put my things away? You'll only get under my feet if you stay standing."

With relief, Tevi dropped onto the bed and scrunched her eyes shut. The blood roared in her ears. Pressure built in waves, as if her skull was about to crack open.

"Do you want me to go and get some water for you?" There was an uncharacteristic gentleness in Cayell's voice.

"I'll be alright. It will pass." Tevi said, although her voice was lacking in confidence.

Cayell knelt beside the bed. She pulled a shirt off the pile of clothes and begun to use it as a towel, softly wiping Tevi's face dry. When she had finished, Tevi opened one eye. Her friend's face was serious, even tentative, both rare emotions for the exuberant extrovert.

"You don't need to worry about me. I'm only hung-over."

"I don't want you passing out on me." Cayell replied. "Or throwing up - there's not enough room in here for me to get out of your way."

"I won't."

Cayell's mouth opened, as if she was about to say something. Instead, she reached out and squeezed Tevi's shoulder. Her eyes remained fixed on Tevi's face.

"You know, I think I... er... You have..." Cayell's mumbled speech ground to a halt.

Tevi looked at her friend in confusion. It was most certainly not like the outspoken scout to be tongue-tied.

Abruptly Cayell stood and busied herself about the room, unpacking her clothes. She started talking quickly. "I suppose we're lucky to get rooms to ourselves at all. If more people wanted accommodation they'd shift us juniors into a dormitory quickly enough. It's only because winter's a slack time. Not much is happening so lots of people take the chance to go and visit their families." She paused and looked at Tevi stretched out on the bed. "I guess you won't be going home much."

"I'm not planning on it." Even with the headache, Tevi could hear the bitterness in her own voice.

Cayell stared, then hurried on. "It will be great here in Lyremouth. The midwinter festival is one big party through the streets."

"Perrin has told me about it."

"Big papa brought me here one year. I'm really looking forward to taking part again. Since there's no work to be had we can have lots of fun and get fat on the guild food without being accused of shirking."

Although lodging at the guildhall was nominally free, Tevi was familiar with the guild rules requiring its members to take whatever work offered to them, regardless of festivals. Tevi frowned - not at the thought of work, but at the feeling Cayell was using the midwinter festival as a diversion, and that her friend had been about to say something else. Of course, with the state she was in, it was easy to get confused. The flashing lights had gone but the throbbing in her head was keeping pace with her pulse.

"I'm not sure how much fun I can stand." Tevi said with feeling.

"You could stick to drinking milk - though I'm not sure what it'll do to the reputation of mercenaries."

"I could threaten to thump anyone who laughed."

"Now that would be more in keeping with the way a warrior is supposed to behave."

"How long do you think the guild will let us stay here, without working?" Tevi asked after a while.

"Probably 'till early spring, when things start moving again."

Cayell shut the lid of the chest and sat on the edge of the bed by Tevi. "What do you say that we try and get on the same contract? Some large caravan going north to the wild-lands, maybe. They can be pretty rough - it would be nice to have at least one good-looking face around. I'd be doing you a favour."

Tevi smiled and punched her friend gently. "You flatter yourself."

"It's good for my ego. But you'd be pleased if we were together?"

"Of course."

"I'd like... having you around." Cayell's voice was quieter, the joking tone gone.

"Even when I'm hung-over?"

"Maybe you're not at your best right now, but..." Cayell paused, as if bracing herself to say something. "I like you... a lot." Cayell carefully raised her hand to stroke the side of Tevi's face, pushing the wet hair back from her cheek.

"What do you mean?" Alarm flared in Tevi's gut. Her heartbeat leapt.

Cayell was watching intently. Her lips twisted in a half smile. "I mean that I think you're really nice, and I'm hoping that you feel the same about me. And you're great to have as a friend, but I'd like to be more than that. And I know you probably won't feel like it at the moment... with your hangover, but I'm desperately wondering whether I can talk you into keeping me company tonight."

The memory of the hay barn on Storenseg surged into Tevi's head. Again she could smell the stale odours of the barn, hear Brec's treacherous voice. Wild panic stopped the breath in her lungs as she sat up, and forcefully shoved Cayell away. The sudden onslaught of old nightmares sent searing bolts of pain ripping through her skull. Tevi glared around the room, her eyes screwed up in agony, searching for possible hiding places. There were none, but the partitions were thin. Anyone might be standing next door. She lurched to her feet, almost falling in her haste.

Tevi raised her voice, loud enough for any eavesdropper to hear. "If I want that sort of company I'll find a man."

Cayell had landed on the floor beside the chest. Too overcome by surprise to speak, she stared wordlessly at Tevi. She had still made no attempt to move by the time Tevi had wrenched the door open and run away, down the corridor.

*****

Tevi raced wildly through the guildhall, paying no attention to where her footsteps led her. She finally stumbled to a halt in the covered walkway surrounding a paved quadrangle. Several wide stone benches were positioned in spaces between the pillars. Tevi picked one at random, sat down and watched the rain. A small round pond lay at the centre of the flagstones. The surface of the water was laced with rings of ripples.

Tevi pulled her heels onto the seat and rested her forehead on her knees. Her skull felt as if it was about to explode. Ideas scrambled through her head, fighting their way between the stabs of pain. The words of the assessor came back to her. "In our judgement you will not do anything to bring the guild into disrepute." Tevi's face twisted into a tortured scowl as she tried to remember all the guild rules and regulations. Nothing specifically had been said or hinted at, but she guessed it was covered by the catch-all clause of 'dishonourable conduct'.

Why had Cayell done it? Or had she? Tevi groaned. With her head in its current state she could not be certain of anything much. Perhaps she had misunderstood, and should go and apologise, though there was no explanation that was not, in itself, a confession of guilt. Then Tevi remembered the look on Cayell's face. She was suddenly quite certain she had not been mistaken.

Was Cayell's overture genuine, or a trap set by the guild? The latter option made no sense. They should have made all their tests before accepting her as a member, not after. Yet, surely Cayell would not be so reckless in risking both their futures? What if they had been overheard? Tevi raised her head and settled her chin onto her knees. Her chaotic thoughts would not settle into any sensible order. The hangover made the process of thinking as profitable as fighting with fog. The agony of her headache left her incapable of tackling anything else.

Still the rain fell in sheets, drowning out all other sounds, including that of soft footsteps approaching.

"Ah, Tevi. I was looking for you." An elderly voice said behind her.

Tevi was caught completely by surprise. She jerked around so violently she almost fell. One of the guild-masters was standing at her shoulder.

"Sir?" Her heart thumped in her breast. Her mouth was dry.

"I've been told that you have experience with driving a wagon. Is that true?" the guild-master asked.

The question was so unexpected that Tevi was unable to make sense of it. She could only stare blankly at the guild-master.

He tried again. "You know, a wagon. Wheels underneath and some horses in front to pull. You know how to drive one?"

"Er... yes. A wagon. Yes."

The guild-master chuckled at her confusion. "I'd heard you had quite a good time last night." He smiled indulgently at Tevi. "We've just had a request from someone who wants to hire a mercenary. He intends to go north, to spend winter with his daughter at Treviston. The route is straight through the heart of the Protectorate and all he really needs is a wagon driver - which is what we told him. However, he seems convinced that everyone outside Lyremouth is a psychopathic barbarian and he wants protection. I said we'd try and find someone." The guild-master paused for a second. "Normally the guild insists junior members accept any contract they're qualified for. However this is not quite how the guild expects to see its warriors employed, and I imagine that you would much rather stay here with your friends. So the guild will let you refuse the contract this time - as a one off concession, you realise."

"I'll go."

The speed of Tevi's reply clearly surprised the guild-master. "You're sure?"

"Yes sir."

"Well... It's good to see such enthusiasm for work."

"When does he want to leave?" Tevi asked quickly.

"I told him if we found someone we'd send them over tomorrow morning." The guild-master stared at her, clearly baffled by her willingness to accept the petty assignment. "If you're certain you want the job I'd recommend you spend the afternoon buying yourself warm clothes. Treviston is some way north and high up in the mountains. Don't worry about the cost; your new employer is paying well. After you've bought what you need, you can call over at the pursers and pick up the contract. I'll arrange to have it ready."

After a final, puzzled look at Tevi the guild-master nodded and left. Tevi followed his departure with her eyes, until he disappeared around a corner, then she swivelled back and sat for a long while, watching the rain falling steadily in the courtyard.

Chapter 8: Difficult Company

Early the next morning Tevi arrived at the address she had been given, a substantial town house in one of the richer areas of Lyremouth. There was a scattering of tradesmen about, but the street was quieter than most. Tevi suspected it would remain so throughout the day. Nothing would be permitted to disturb the genteel tranquillity. While waiting for the door to open Tevi shuffled from foot to foot, while examining the half-timbered frontage of the house in a futile attempt to distract herself from feeling exposed and vulnerable.

She had risen early and grabbed some food from the kitchens, not bothering to hang about and take her breakfast with the others. The previous evening had been a strain. She and Cayell had largely ignored each other, but once or twice Tevi had caught the other woman glaring in her direction, confusion and anger plain on her face. Perrin and the other nominees had clearly been surprised by the breaking up of their friendship, but had wisely refrained from interfering. Tevi wondered what they had been told.

An elderly servant eventually opened the door, and studied her with cursory disdain.

"You are the mercenary guard?" the servant asked

"Yes - I've got the contract with me." Tevi held out the paper.

"Master Sarryle is expecting you. Follow me."

She was led into a small parlour. Her new employer was sitting by the fire, blankets draped over his knees. He was a thin man of advancing years. To a first glance he looked far older than he actually was - an effect he seemed to be deliberately cultivating by his outmoded dress and frail mannerisms. His head was bald on top, with a frill of white hair hanging over his ears. Sunken eyes blinked irritably in Tevi's direction, as if she was an unpleasant distraction. A partly eaten breakfast lay on the table to one side. His lips pulled into in a sour pout.

"You're very young. I was expecting somebody more experienced." Sarryle sounded indignant.

The caustic tone was disconcerting, however Tevi stepped forward to present the contract, saying, "I have considerable experience of driving a wagon, sir. And I am a trained warrior."

"You're early. The horses aren't harnessed yet. Eli will have to do it after finding my willow-bark ointment. I always wake with this terrible pain in my joints. I don't know how I'm going to cope with the journey to Treviston, half the town councils don't maintain the roads as they should..."

Before Sarryle could say more Tevi interrupted. "I could harness the horses, sir."

"If you think you're able." Sarryle's tone made his doubt evident. "Though I'm not sure how far we'll get today. The weather witch said it will be fine, but you can't trust them. My knees ache, that's always a sign of rain. We'll be up to our necks in mud by mid-morning. I don't know why my daughter had to move so far away - typical of her."

"The horses, sir?" Tevi inserted into a break in the tirade.

"Oh yes, yes. Eli, show her to the stables. And these eggs are overdone. You'll have to do some more. You must..."

Tevi and Eli escaped from the stream of whining complaint. As they walked to the stables Tevi tried to catch Eli's eye, in the hope of gauging how seriously she should take Master Sarryle's behaviour.

"Will you be coming with us to Treviston?" Tevi asked.

"I am to stay and look after the house."

"There'll be other servants?" After the welcome she had received Tevi was not too sure about being alone with the old man.

"The cook and the valet have recently left Master Sarryle's employ and have not yet been replaced."

Tevi assumed that meant 'no'. Eli's voice had been so deliberately neutral that it was obvious there was a lot more which could be said on the subject. Unsurprising - Tevi had already worked out that her new employer was not easy to deal with first thing in the morning.

*****

It soon emerged, however, that Tevi was mistaken in her judgement - Master Sarryle was never easy to deal with, regardless of the time of day. His only pleasure in life was finding things that displeased him. Before the journey was halfway complete Tevi had formed the opinion that the protection of a guild mercenary was not an extravagance on her employer's part. Without her presence, Tevi was convinced someone would have strangled the old man. She was not sure if she could withstand the temptation herself.

The journey proceeded slowly, limping from town to town. Before leaving Lyremouth Tevi had established that the distance to Treviston could be travelled in fifteen days, twenty at the most. Yet, thirty days did not see them to their destination. Master Sarryle would not start early, nor would he travel after night fell. He complained about potholes if she raised the speed above the slowest pace the horses could practically maintain. In Lower Deaford he developed a chill and would not move at all for three days. Tevi was approaching the end of her patience.

On the thirty-second day of the journey, they reached a small hamlet, less than nine miles from Treviston. The weather had been mild for the time of year. There was a sharp frost most nights, but the skies had remained clear. However, that night, winter struck. They awoke to see the world cloaked in white. Huge flakes danced in the light wind and drifted into deep banks Tevi was astonished. Snow was rare on the islands of her birth, never more than a light dusting on the highest mountains.

The snow continued to fall steadily all morning. Just before lunchtime it slackened noticeably and finally ceased. Tevi stood in the doorway, next to Master Sarryle. The old man scowled and turned to Tevi with a reproachful glare.

"If you'd made better time we'd be safely in Treviston by now. I thought you were supposed to be competent at driving a wagon." he snapped, before stalking off.

"I'll throttle him." Tevi mouthed silently to herself.

The place at her side was taken by the owner of the farm who had given them shelter for the night. Tevi continued to look out across the hills. Ominous grey clouds hung low in the sky. Only the stark blackness of trees broke through the soft contours of white. The wind blew across the threshold with an icy bite. The farmer studied the dull sky keenly before offering her appraisal of the weather.

"It will hold off for a while, but when it gets going again we'll be snowed in. It's always the same when winter comes late. It hits quick and hard and won't let up 'til spring."

"Do you think it will hold long enough to get to Treviston?" Tevi asked.

The farmer pursed her lips. "Chancy."

At that moment, Sarryle's voice was heard berating the farmer's youngest son. "You boy, don't screech so. It hurts my ears."

"Lee just put an icicle down my neck." a young voice wailed.

"I don't know what your parents are thinking of, letting you run wild."

"I was only playing." protested a second child, presumably Lee.

"You think this weather's a game. If you had my knees..."

Tevi met the farmer's eyes. She could tell that the same thought was going through the other woman's mind. Freezing to death would be fun, compared to months, cooped up with Master Sarryle.

"I'll risk it." Tevi said. From the sudden dazzling smile, Tevi thought the farmer was about to kiss her.

While Tevi and Sarryle dressed in their warmest clothes, the entire work force of the farm was called on to harness the horses and make ready the wagon. Even one ancient great-grandparent hobbled out to offer advice.

Sarryle was not grateful for the help. He stopped in the yard and looked at the snow settling over the tops of his boots. "I'm not sure if we should travel today."

"Nonsense sir. It will be quite all right." Tevi said briskly.

Sarryle was clearly about to refuse to leave - his mouth started to open. Tevi did not give him the chance. She physically swept her elderly employer off his feet and hoisted him into the wagon, then fastened the awning and leapt onto the driver's seat. The wagon rolled out into the snowy landscape accompanied by a high-pitched barrage of accusations emanating from the covered section. When Tevi looked back, she could see the farmer's whole family standing by the gates, waving an enthusiastic goodbye

The heavy blanket of snow and deep drifts made it hard to tell the line of the road. Once they had left the dry stone walls of the farmland behind, only the gap between stunted upland trees showed the correct direction. Twice the wheels of the wagon ran off the road into the draining ditch and were only pulled free with much coaxing of the carthorses. By the time they had travelled three miles Tevi was obliged to get out and lead the horses, while feeling for the road with her feet. Her toes were soon frozen, but there was the advantage that she could no longer hear what Master Sarryle was saying.

As the afternoon advanced, the snow began to fall again. White flakes swirled ghost-like in the gloomy half-light. The horses fought their way over the last hill, with their hooves sliding on the ice. Down in the valley below faint lights were visible - Treviston at last. Snow lay less thick on the this side of the hill, and once again, the path of the road was visible. Tevi climbed back onto the wagon with relief. She set the horses off at a good pace, ignoring the complaints from behind.

Two miles outside town, they reached a side road. Lights from a large farmhouse shone out at the end of the short track. Tevi knew this was the approximate location of the daughter's farm. She raised the awning of the covered section. Master Sarryle was wedged sullenly in a corner, almost lost under a mound of furs and blankets.

"Do you know exactly where your daughter's farm is, sir?" Tevi asked.

"Do you mean to tell me you're lost?"

"No. There's a farm over there. I wondered if it was your daughter's."

"Don't you recognise it?"

"I've never been to Treviston before."

"Didn't you pay attention to your instructions?"

"I was told your daughter lives two miles south of town." Tevi's patience was almost gone.

"Well you obviously haven't been..."

Tevi dropped the flap and steered the horses onto the path. She did not care whose house it was - they could take the old man; she was not going a step further with him.

Fortunately, it was the right farm and Sarryle was welcomed inside. The display of pleasure in the greeting impressed Tevi - she could not believe it was genuine. The wagon was taken to the stables to be unloaded by the farm hands. With a warm feeling of satisfaction Tevi realised her contract was completed. She stood, slightly dazed, while the hubbub resolved itself into order and Sarryle was led to the room prepared for him.

The daughter beckoned Tevi aside. "Do you wish to stay here tonight?" she asked.

"It's taken longer to get here than planned. I think I should report straight to the guild-master in town."

It was a weak excuse. One night's delay in reporting to the guildhall would make no difference, even if her arrival were expected. In truth, Tevi would rather have slept in the snow on the hilltop than spend another night under the same roof as Sarryle. The daughter smiled sympathetically, probably suspecting Tevi's real reasons for declining the offer. Using a wax candle, she put her father's seal on the contract and passed it back to Tevi, with the money. As an afterthought, she handed Tevi a few more coins. "I'm sure you've deserved it."

In a mood of light-headed euphoria Tevi shouted goodbye to everyone within earshot and headed swiftly back to the main road. Night was descending rapidly. The freezing wind had picked up and the snow was falling hard, but it hardly affected her. Tevi felt so happy to be free of her charge that she practically skipped all the way into town.

*****

"So she came over to me and she looked me straight in the eye and she said 'Lad.' she said. 'I need a volunteer. But it's a tough one and I can't guarantee you'll come back'. I didn't hesitate. I looked at her and I said 'I'm your man'. Then she took me by the hand and she said 'Good lad, I knew I could rely on you'. That's what she said. 'So what's the score?' I said. 'Well' she said, 'We need someone to get behind enemy lines and set fire to their stores, as a distraction for when we attack.' So I said 'Consider it done.' And when she'd gone I went straight to the captain and I told him what she'd said, and do you know what he said to me?" The narrator paused dramatically.

Tevi was not sure how much more she could stand. It would not be so bad if the old warrior did not expect audience participation. "No. What did he say?" She asked, trying to sound interested.

Ricard leaned back and rested his hands on his knees importantly. "He clapped his hand on my shoulder and he said 'Ric.' he said, 'The honour of the guild rests on your shoulders.' That's what he said."

It was a month since Tevi had arrived at the Treviston guildhall, and the third time Ricard had told the tale of his part in the Troll Wars, four decades before. The story was not improving with re-telling. Tevi let her eyes wander around the dining room and through the open door into the kitchen beyond. No escape was in sight. The guildhall was a modest sized building, principally occupied during the summer months, when the town was the main stopping point for people crossing over the Langhope Pass. The harsh winter had blocked not only the pass, but also virtually all other access to the town. Only six mercenaries, other than herself, were currently lodging in the guildhall. They were mainly elderly members, retired from armed employment, who supervised the guild affairs in town. Ricard was running out of people he could recount his life story to.

The tale was rambling on. "So I looked up and I could see the 'rabbits' everywhere. We called them rabbits because they were always popping out of holes. I remember old Chalky, the cook. Do you know what he said? He said 'If ever I catch one of them we'll have rabbit stew all month'." Ricard's face broke into a broad smile, which grew to chuckles, his shoulders and stomach shaking. Tevi assumed the joke had lost something with the passage of time.

The tedium was plumbing new, mind-numbing depths when a door opened and Nevin, the Treviston guild-master, limped in. A mace had shattered her knee several years before, making a cruel mockery of Nevin's otherwise athletic body. She was somewhat younger than the other residents of the guild-house and marginally more entertaining to be with. Tevi suspected that, once, Nevin would have made good company. Now, the constant pain from her leg made her short-tempered and cynical. Sandy hair hung in a fringe over shadowed eyes. Her lips were permanently turned down at the corners.

Ricard halted his story as the new arrival settled into a high-backed chair beside the fireplace. "I was telling young Tevi here about the old wars, up north."

"You can give it a rest. I've heard it all before." Nevin said bluntly.

Tevi leapt at the excuse to flee. "I'm sure Ricard can finish the story some other time." Then she smiled at the old man - he meant well.

"We could go to the kitchen." Ricard offered.

"Well, actually, I'd planned to go into town tonight." It was not strictly true and Tevi could feel a slow blush rising on her cheeks.

Fortunately, Nevin spoke up. "Ric, why don't you get the chess-board out and give me a game? That should keep you quiet."

"Oh yes... yes, of course." Ricard's expression was a little confused as he adjusted to the change in plans. He shuffled across the room and collected the board and pieces.

Seizing her chance, Tevi slipped from her seat and headed for the door. As she reached it, she paused and glanced back. Ricard, the firelight playing on his bald head, was busily fussing over the playing pieces, swapping them back and forth as he tried to remember their positions. Nevin was slumped, with her head sagging as she rubbed her maimed leg with the heel of one hand. It was the same gesture Tevi remembered her mother making - the easing of tendons in a wounded knee. Yet, the setting was so very different from the family hall on Storenseg.

Instead of dry stone, the walls were wood-panelled and hung with tapestries. Four stout trestle tables stood in the middle of the room. A blazing log fire roared in the open grate of the chimney. Rather than a bare earth floor, there were flagstones, scrubbed clean. Suddenly it all seemed very alien to Tevi. Swamped by a rush of homesickness she closed the door and retreated to her room on the second floor of the guildhall.

*****

There were no fires in the private quarters and the air was freezing. Tevi's breath formed white puffs of steam. The room was austere and dreary, clearly intended to be functional rather than homelike. It was generous in size, but lacking entertainment. The bed was ready, piled high with blankets and furs, though it was too early for sleep. Tevi's few possessions were neatly arranged on shelves, however nothing needed cleaning, mending or sharpening - the previous month had taken care of that. Tevi sat on the edge of her bed and stared despondently at the four bare walls. They seemed to close in around her, pressing with the weight of the deserted guild-house.

A door below slammed. The sound reverberated through the empty corridors. Listening to the fading echoes, Tevi became aware of voices, coming softly through the thick green glass of the window. It was an indistinct murmur, punctuated by the occasional high shout. Drawn by the sound, Tevi got to her feet and wandered over to stare out on the town. A panorama of snow covered roofs filled the skyline. On the narrow street below well-wrapped figures made what haste they could, stepping carefully with their eyes set on the slippery pavements. The scene reminded Tevi of her fabricated excuse to escape Ricard. On impulse, she decided to make good her words.

She grabbed her thick woollen cloak from the rack in the entrance hall and changed into the warm, waterproof boots she had bought with money from Sarryle's contract. One quarter had gone to Nevin as the guild's share, but there was plenty left. Coins filled the purse at Tevi's belt. Fleece-lined gloves and woollen hat completed her attire. Tevi walked down the steps of the guildhall and onto the street outside.

Dusk was settling over the town as she emerged. It was a crisp, clear evening; the first stars already showing overhead. The street was filled with trampled snow; brilliant white close to the walls, turning to grey and brown slush in the ruts where traffic passed. The snow lay on every horizontal surface, clinging in sharp lines to the details in the brickwork and capping the tops of walls. The street was busy with people going home to their families after a day's work. A horse-drawn cart went down the street. The driver was clearly well known and was hailed by several pedestrians.

With no clear destination in mind, Tevi wandered from street to street until she reached Treviston's market square. The stalls and peddlers were now gone. Tevi stopped in the centre of the empty square and inspected each side in turn. The solid timber frame of the council hall held her attention for a while. Tevi finally halted and faced east. Mountains loomed above the snow-covered tiles; vertical rock faces, black etched on white, stark against the darkening blue sky. The last rays from the sinking sun glinted off the icy peaks, and washed them with pink. Slowly the light faded. With each passing minute more stars appeared.

Tevi stood watching until the white of the snow on the mountains was almost lost in darkness. She lowered her gaze and continued her restless wandering. By now, most of the townsfolk were home and the streets less active. Doors and window shutters were closed. Lamplight gleamed through joins in the wood.

Tevi passed a group of children indulging in one last snowball fight, ignoring the calls to come in for as long as they dared, until a more emphatic shout ended the game. A small knot of townsfolk caught her attention as they walked along the road, jostling each other and laughing boisterously. Tevi's eyes followed them enviously until they were out of sight. She felt desperately lonely. Pools of light, cast by lamps on street corners, glittered off the white ground and sparkled on the plumes of powdery snow her boots kicked up as she walked. Her thoughts drifted aimlessly, like the dancing flakes.

She was caught completely unaware when a figure cannoned into her, careering wildly out of a steep side street. The collision knocked Tevi sideways. She slithered on the icy paving. Her arms flailed wildly but caught only on the new arrival, who was even less steady than herself. The two of them ended up in a heap on the ground.

Once her initial shock had passed, Tevi was able to squirm from under her involuntary assailant and get to her feet. "I'm very sorry." Tevi apologised on reflex, offering a hand to assist the other person to rise.

"Oh no, it was my fault. I was going too fast and these shoes are useless. Can't get a decent grip on the snow - soles are like glass."

"You haven't hurt yourself, have you?" Sir? Ma'am? Tevi could not tell. The accent belonged to one of the local townsfolk, but the speaker was so muffled that it was impossible to guess the gender. The person was shorter than Tevi by several inches, yet the voice seemed on the low side for a woman. Not for the first time Tevi wished men on the mainland would let their beards grow. One of these days, she was going to make a mistake and insult someone. It was just as well that gender was of so little consequence in the Protectorate.

"I'm fine, apart from my dignity. Are you alright?" the stranger asked.

"Yes. Fortunately the snow's soft to land on."

"Though I guess I wasn't quite so soft, landing on top of you."

Tevi grinned. "It was a bit like being hit by a sack of potatoes... meaning no offence."

The other person let out a peal of laughter. "None taken. If someone tells me I look like a sack of potatoes - then I'm offended."

"I'm sure that isn't likely to happen."

"I don't know. I'm a greengrocer from Eastside. They say traders end up looking like their wares."

Tevi joined the laughter. The pair exchanging light-hearted pleasantries for a few minutes, while brushing the powdery snow still clinging to their clothing. It was not long before all traces of the accident had been erased.

"I must be off. Good evening to you, and once again my apologies." The greengrocer said in farewell, and started to head off with cautious steps, one hand braced against the wall.

"Excuse me! Before you go. I'm a stranger in town. I wonder if you could recommend a good tavern." Tevi spoke, half hoping her new acquaintance would offer to come with her for a drink.

The face inside the fur-lined hood turned back, smiling broadly. "The ale in the 'Bees and Bonnet' on Mickle street is very good. My new lover's one of the bar-staff. He won't be there tonight, but it's always friendly."

With arms held out for balance the unsteady figure tottered down the street, and disappeared into another side turning. Tevi stared at the empty street. Any hope of company was gone. In disappointment Tevi continued her aimless roaming, with no purpose in mind other than creating the rhythm of walking.

She would have been willing to buy as much ale as the greengrocer could drink, just to have someone to talk to. Even Ricard's unending stories would be better than nothing. Tevi was about to head back to the guildhall when she noticed a painted sign hanging above the door of a tavern. Several garish yellow and black bees swarmed around a frilly pink object that was just conceivably an item of headgear. This must be the 'Bees and Bonnet'.

The greengrocer had said it was friendly. While Tevi stood thinking, three townsfolk approached from the other direction, pushed the door open and went inside. There was a brief glimpse of lamplight falling on busy tables and clean scrubbed floor, the sound of people talking, chairs scraping, glasses clinking, even the faint smell of beer and wood smoke. Without Tevi making a conscious decision, her feet started moving, following the three townsfolk into the tavern.

Sweat prickled at her neck and sides as the heat of the alehouse swept over her, accompanied by a matching wave of sound. The sensation was like wading through treacle. Tevi was in a medium sized room, rectangular, with tables lining the longer walls and a dozen more arranged in the middle. Benches were filled with animated customers, though a scattering of empty seats remained. The walls were orange brick, except for one that was completely taken up by a huge stone fireplace. The flickering light played over the low rafters of the ceiling, and added to the cheerful glow from a dozen lanterns. There was much activity on both sides of the L-shaped counter, that was squeezed into the corner facing the door, with a row of barrels stacked behind.

Tevi tugged off her gloves and hat and pushed them into the large pocket sewn on the inside of her cloak, which she also removed. The bar was busy, but she was able to find a spot where she could rest her elbows on the wooden surface of the counter and wait her turn to be served. It did not take long. A barman rushed to attend to her, ignoring several other customers. From the quick, slightly nervous glance at her hands Tevi realised it was the tattoos that gained her prompt service. Tevi recognised the three townsfolk she had followed in. She gestured to the waiting group. "They were here before me."

"Oh no. You first." One of them spoke quickly and then looked away.

Most ordinary citizens treated mercenaries caution. Remembering Big Bron, Tevi could understand why. She was tempted to explain that she was happy to wait her turn, but it would only waste time and fail to reassure anyone.

"I'll have a pint of bitter, please."

"Yes, ma'am"

Tevi waited for her drink in silence. The other people at the bar did not act overly nervous, yet Tevi got the strong impression they wished she was not there - certainly none seemed ready to engage in friendly conversation with her. She faired no better once she had got her drink and taken a seat at the side of the room, close to the fire. As soon as the tattoos on her hands were noticed, people sitting either side of her shifted ever so slightly away.

The hopes of finding companionship taunted Tevi as she sat, surveying the other customers of the tavern. During her journey with Sarryle, she had become aware that the red and gold tattoos served to distance her from the general population. Young children would gape at her with something approaching hero-worship in their eyes, but their older relatives gave her a wide berth. Traders and others, used to employing her guild comrades, were less apprehensive, but mercenaries were generally left to their own company.

Folk sitting close by busied themselves in conversation, mainly about the weather from the little Tevi overheard. A few, further away, were staring in her direction, although they looked away sharply if she caught their eye. Tevi's lips tightened in annoyance. Am I being too sensitive? On the islands, we would always stare at strangers. The thought struck her - but on Storenseg, you could go from one year to the next without seeing a face you did not know. She remembered how comical it was to see an unfamiliar face, and study the eyes and nose, trying to work out what there was about it that made it so odd. And I've changed, to sit here surrounded by dozens of strange faces and find them no more worthy of note than the bricks in the walls. It was a sudden, unsettling realisation. Somewhere on her travels, the islander's mentality had slipped its hold on her. It was bad enough to be exiled in strange lands, but worse to think that even Storenseg might become alien to her.

The mellow ale washed the tightness from her throat. In the open hearth flames leapt over the burning logs - in them you could see demons and castles, swords and flowers, if you chose. It was a deep glowing well of fantasies that drew her thoughts in. A wry smile touched Tevi's lips as she remembered the family hearth of her childhood, and siting by it, playing games of make-believe. She had dreamed of growing up to be a warrior queen who would conquer all the known world - or at least the nearest couple of islands. Things never work out the way you expect.

But what next? Precise plans were hard to make, although a job was not likely to be a problem. In spring, the pass would re-open and traffic would start to flow through town again. There would be caravans and traders, some of them heading off to the wild-lands beyond the Protectorate and in need of guards. Tevi could be sure of finding work with one of them. The world was wide and diverse beyond the dreams of her childhood, beyond the imagination of the island women. Visions of the sights she had seen with Verron and Marith danced among the flames.

*****

Her tankard was empty. Tevi looked at it, a little surprised, and considered returning to the guildhall, but she was warm and comfy, and the other customers had long ceased paying her any attention. The noise of the tavern had become a steady background rumble in her ears, letting her think in peace, and the ale really was very good. Good enough to tempt her to a second tankard.

She had scarcely returned to her seat when the door to the tavern opened. The sudden drop in noise warned Tevi that the new arrival was not just another customer, seeking cheer on the frosty night. Like everyone else in the room, Tevi turned her head, to see a tall, middle-aged woman standing just inside the entrance. The hem of her heavy blue cloak fluttered in the last of the icy draft that had followed her into the tavern. The cut of the woman's clothes indicated wealth. Her expression was one of bored arrogance. There was nothing else of note about her, but the innkeeper rushed to greet the new arrival and escort her to a table by the fire, unceremoniously displacing its original occupants.

In was obvious that everyone in the tavern recognised the woman. Folk returned to their gossip, but the atmosphere was slightly strained, the laughter muted. Then Tevi caught a glimpse of a black amulet, engraved with oak leaves, on the woman's wrist. It explained all - the town sorcerer. By now, a bottle of vintage wine and assorted delicacies had arrived at the table, accompanied by much bowing. As the bar-staff retreated, the bottle floated into the air and poured itself into a glass. Oblivious to the disturbance she had caused, the sorcerer picked up the glass and sipped the wine, while her eyes stared vacantly into the air.

The floating bottle was the first piece of magic Tevi had seen in the Protectorate, however it did not appear to be the precursor to anything more dramatic. Soon Tevi's attention drifted back to the fire and her plans for the future. Taking a contract as a caravan guard would be a good move. It would bring money, and the chance to see more of the world. There would also be the comradeship of other mercenaries - new friends, and new risks. Tevi's forehead creased in a frown, hit by the memory of Cayell that had dogged her all the way from Lyremouth, and the questions it raised. Why did she come on to me like that? How did she know I would be open to the approach? On the islands, with hindsight, it was obvious. I stood out like a sheep in a pigpen. Too soft and masculine. Even the way I walked and talked must have had them guessing. But on the mainland the same codes of conduct did not apply - or did they? How did Cayell know about me? Until she could answer that question Tevi knew she dared not let anyone get close to her. She bit her lip and let her head drop forward, heartsick at the prospect of loneliness. But I want friends.

Tevi raised her head to take another mouthful of ale. Her eyes fell on the woman sitting alone by the fire. The sorcerer was someone who must have even greater problems in finding friends. Do they like the way they're treated with awe? Tevi wondered. Sorcerers met with even more wariness than mercenaries. Might a less deferential approach be preferred? Probably depends on the sorcerer, she concluded. This one had been unconcerned to see people kicked off their table to make room. Admittedly, they had shown no sign of objecting, but it was hardly a way to make people like you.

It was no surprise that normal folk had mixed feelings about the Coven - although, if it did not exist, there would be nothing to stop the sorcerers from doing whatever they wanted. At least the Coven ensured its members gave something in return. The town sorcerer was responsible for the welfare of the inhabitants, supervising healers and other witches who worked in the area. She was oath-bound to protect the people from attack, magical or otherwise. She led the town council, was the final arbiter of all inter-guild disputes and the chief civic judge. Her word, quite literally, was law. On top of that, she could be called on for help and advice in virtually any situation.

And what possible advice could the sorcerer give me? Tevi sighed to herself. The situation was hopeless. She had learnt to treat the mainland men as if they were female but it was only a mental game she was playing with herself. Tevi knew the only lover she would ever want would have to be a woman.

Her tankard was empty again. At the bar Tevi was once more served without delay, but the route back to her seat was blocked by a group of people gathered at one of the tables, forcing her into a detour by the sorcerer's table. Tevi glanced at the woman's face as she passed. Seen close up the sorcerer was older than Tevi had first thought. Wavy grey hair framed a deeply lined face, and pale brown liver spots marked both hands. What advice could she give me? The words repeated in Tevi's head. Before she had the chance to think it through, her feet had stopped.

Immediately Tevi knew it was a mistake. All around the room heads twisted in her direction, only to turn away again as folk decided true wisdom lay in minding their own business. The sorcerer looked up with interest, yet her eyes seem to be focused on a point far beyond the walls of the room.

"May I talk to you, ma'am?" Tevi asked politely.

By way of consent, the sorcerer indicated an empty chair. She waited until Tevi was seated before speaking. "And what do you want to talk about?"

"I'd like some advice."

"Eat three meals a day, sleep well and avoid sharp objects when they're poked in your direction." The sorcerer rested her head on one hand, her voice heavily ironic. "Or was there something slightly more particular bothering you?"

"Er... yes. I wanted... If, er..." The unfocused gaze was disconcerting. Tevi's eyes dropped to the tabletop as she floundered for words. The mocking tones made it even harder to bring herself to speak.

"I'm afraid you'll have to be a little more precise with your question. There are very few sorcerers who can use telepathy to any useful extent, and I'm not one of them."

"My problem is... I need to know what to do..."

Again, Tevi's words ran into a brick wall. However, instead of taunting her, the sorcerer froze, her expression puzzled. For the first time her eyes focused on Tevi.

"What to do?" The sorcerer's voice was light, but serious. "Well, unlikely as it may seem, you should ask those two men to give you a job." She pointed to the people she meant, sitting at one side of the room in the middle of a long table.

"I...? Pardon?" Tevi's surprise jolted her out of her awkwardness.

"You should ask them for a job. Do you know why you should do that?"

"No."

"Neither do I. Isn't it intriguing?" The mocking tone returned to the sorcerer's voice. "Perhaps they pay well."

"That wasn't the question I wanted to ask, ma'am." Tevi said with slightly more determination.

"Maybe not, but it's the question you should have asked."

Tevi opened her mouth to speak, and then closed it as she considered the implications of the sorcerer's words. "You mean it's a prophecy?" she asked at last.

"In a way."

"I thought oracles were supposed to be cryptic."

"If it makes you happier I could tell you that you're about to go on a difficult journey and to expect health problems towards the middle of next month, possibly with your eyes. But I think my original advice was better. It's certainly easier to act on, wouldn't you say?" While Tevi sat, trying to think of an answer, the sorcerer drained her glass and stood up. "Before I go, do you want to try again and see if you can ask me your original question?"

"Er, no. Thank you, ma'am. You've been most helpful."

"True. I have." the sorcerer said pointedly.

The woman spun on her heel and swept out of the tavern. The door swung closed behind her. In the hush that followed, Tevi looked around the room. The two men identified by the sorcerer appeared extremely uneasy. They were obviously aware they had been pointed out, as was everyone in the room, judging by the looks of frank curiosity they were receiving.

Tevi picked up her drink and walked towards the table where the men were sitting, hoping it was not just the sorcerer's idea of a joke. Both men were in their early twenties and dressed in the style of the eastern Protectorate, on the other side of the Spur. The taller of the two had a round face and unruly fair hair that fell forward over his forehead, obscuring his eyes. His companion was dark with angular, boyish features. They stared at Tevi as she sat down; their eyes, edgy and distrusting, fastened on the tattoos on the backs of her hands.

"Well met, fellow citizens." Tevi said, trying to give her most reassuring smile.

"Well met, citizen." They replied in disjointed unison.

"The sorcerer thought you might be able to offer me a job. My name's Tevi by the way."

The fair-haired one answered her cautiously. "My name's Harrick and this is my partner, Rorg. We're traders from Rizen." He gestured to his companion, who nodded sharply.

"Are you looking to hire people?" Tevi asked.

"Um... yes. But we're mainly after guides and mule drivers, though I suppose a scout might be useful - if that's what you are." Harrick replied after a short pause.

"No. I'm just an ordinary warrior." Tevi said.

Harrick's wariness was fading into confusion. "Then I can't see we'd have much need of you. Bandits are rare in the mountains, even in good weather. They aren't going to be about in conditions like these."

"We'll be lucky to get anyone." Rorg interjected. Like his companion, he spoke in the clipped accent of the eastern Protectorate.

"Look, I keep telling you - it will be all right." Harrick hissed at his partner with unconcealed anger.

"You've said that before." Rorg scowled.

Tevi realised she had stepped into an ongoing argument. Admittedly traders were more relaxed around mercenaries than most citizens, but it was amazing that the two men could to so quickly get over the implications of a sorcerer singling them out. It indicated that some major trouble was occupying their thoughts.

Tevi leaned forward to interrupt. "You have a problem?"

Rorg merely shrugged and raised his tankard to his lips. Any nervousness was overwhelmed by his mood of sullen despair.

Harrick turned back to Tevi. "We're planning on going over the old pass, but Rorg has some doubts about it."

"I wasn't aware there was an old pass." Tevi said.

"Oh yes. The current Langhope pass was made sixty years back. Three sorcerers and a couple hundred dwarves did the work. Before that, the old route ran further to the north - an old pack trail, following the contours, twisting and turning all over the place. The new pass just blasted its way straight ahead, up one side and down the other. They even knocked a couple of tunnels through bits that got in the way. You can drive two wagons abreast the whole way."

"Except when it's neck-deep in snow."

The interruption from Rorg was met by a long angry glare. At last, Harrick went on. "We were held up on our way to Treviston. By the time we got here the Langhope pass was closed and may not reopen for months. We're on a tight schedule and low budget and can't afford to wait 'til spring. We only got our loan from the guild last year." Harrick's lips twisted in a grimace, making Tevi remember some of Verron's remarks about the risk of young traders overreaching themselves.

"You think the older route may be passable?" She asked.

"Yes - on foot. It always was, according to Rorg's grandmothers. They used to cover this route in the days before the new pass."

"If you can believe the old fools." Rorg mumbled.

"And why not? The old pass isn't so high and it's sheltered from the north-west wind all the way." Harrick snapped angrily.

"So that's your plan?" Tevi spoke softly, trying to ease the tension.

"Yes. We're going to sell the wagons and transfer the load to mules. Not right now, but according to the weather-witch there should be a clear patch in another twenty days. If we can get a team together we'll be setting off then." He frowned at Tevi. "We're looking mainly for guides and muleteers. The only unskilled labour we're going to need is the brute strength to dig our way out of snow drifts, and that's not going to be your field."

Tevi looked at the table. It was about ten feet long, made from solid timber, probably weighing more than she did. It was ideal for a demonstration. Tevi stood to avoid damaging her chair, raised her eyes to meet Harrick's, and placed one hand on the underside of the table. With a smile, she lifted it a foot into the air. People sitting at either end called out in surprise.

"When you discuss the contract with the guild master, it would be better not to use the word 'unskilled'. You could say you wanted me to fight off starving wolf packs and the like." Tevi said evenly, not in the least exerted by the weight she was lifting. "The mercenaries are very keen to be seen as professionals."

The two young traders stared at Tevi in astonishment. Even Rorg was shaken from his bitter cynicism. He bent down and peered at her hand under the table then sat upright again.

"I don't suppose you've got a couple of friends? We could forget the mules."

Chapter 9: Nightmares

Either Rorg's scepticism of his grandmothers was well founded, or the old women had been tougher in their youth than they'd been given credit for. The journey over the old pass was a nightmare.

On the day they left Treviston Tevi began to have second thoughts. She picked her way along the old pack trail, feeling dwarfed by the overhanging crags scoured with ice and snow. A twinge of foreboding unsettled her stomach, but she brushed away the doubts and fixed her eyes on the trail. Ahead of her went the others in the small team. Apart from Harrick and Rorg, there were two muleteers, a local guide, six hill ponies to ride when possible and nineteen very unhappy mules.

It wasn't long before Tevi was wishing that she had turned her pony around and headed straight back to the comforts of the Treviston guildhall. For the first two days, the route wove its way slowly into the mountains. The track hugged the southern side of a long winding valley that was comparatively sheltered and free from deep snowdrifts. However, the temperature was bitterly cold, firewood was hard to find and the damp managed to find its way into everything. The track then rose sharply, running up the bottom of a steep sided ravine. The gorge acted like a wind tunnel, hurling walls of sleet into their faces. When they reached the top, they were met by a trackless expanse of open moor under a leaden sky.

It was at this time Tevi realised that Harrick had been obliged to employ anyone willing to undertake the journey - consequently the team was not of the highest calibre. The guide, Lerwill, appeared to have less idea of direction than anyone else in the party. After two hours of his dithering Tevi was left wondering how the man normally found his way home at night.

The wind whipped them with freezing blasts as they scrambled out of yet another gully. Lerwill stood a short way in front of the others, looking around in confusion. "It wasn't like this last time I was here." he muttered.

Tevi shouted to be heard over the wind. "Let me guess. There wasn't any of this white fluffy stuff about."

Lerwill pouted sullenly. His hands shook as he pointed to a long ridge cresting in a triple peak. "That's Langhope Rigg. The new pass goes to the south of it, which means..." He spun around and gestured in a vague north-easterly direction. "We need to go that way." He scowled at Tevi, as if daring her to dispute his words.

They remounted their ponies and set off across the snow-covered upland. The mules were miserable and made no attempt to hide the fact from anyone - the same could be said for the muleteers. Tevi pulled her hood forward to shield her face from the wind, and wished she could place more confidence in the guide. At the rate they were going sunset would see them less than a mile from the point where they had climbed onto the moor. Listening to Ricard's stories by the fire suddenly seemed like an extremely enjoyable way to spend time.

*****

Over the following days Tevi learnt a lot about manhandling mules. She also learnt that, while adversity often brings people closer, this is not necessarily the case. Harrick cursed the weather, the muleteers cursed the mules, Rorg cursed his grandmothers and Lerwill fell into a sulk and cursed everyone. It was mainly due to the efforts of Tevi and Rorg that they eventually found their way across the moor and back onto the trail, wasting no more than a day in the process. Thereafter the route got worse as it passed through the heart of the mountains. Rock-falls and lost paths caused repeated detours and delays.

The muleteers, Jansk and Orpin, were a couple barely out of their teens, whose relationship fluctuated between vicious argument and passionate reconciliation. Orpin had the same wiry build and stubbornness as one of his mules. Jansk was a solid young woman with a short temper. Neither appeared overly endowed with brains. Throughout the early part of the journey, the pair quarrelled incessantly. For some reason, both chose to unburden their hearts to Tevi. During those days, Tevi learnt more intimate details about their relationship than she had any wish to know. She soon ran out of sympathy for the tales of jealousy, selfishness and spite, but neither muleteer picked up on hints that she didn't want to listen.

As far as she could judge, Tevi spent her twentieth birthday carrying the cargo over a rock-fall, while Jansk and Orpin took the mules around a precipitous detour. The route was judged too dangerous for the animals to attempt when laden, although Tevi was unsure whether it was the risk to the mules or the merchandise that prompted the decision. The voices of the muleteers were still audible long after they had disappeared from sight.

"Why are you wearing that old hat again?"

"It keeps my ears warm."

"It makes you look stupid."

"You're only saying that 'cause Lonny gave it to me."

"I didn't know who gave it to you."

"Yes you did. You were there..."

To Tevi's relief the voices faded into the distance leaving her to do her job in peace - apart from the stream of unhelpful advice from Harrick, Rorg's sarcastic interjections and Lerwill's sullen muttering. That night she collapsed into her bedding roll, wet, cold and exhausted from hours of manhandling the heavy load. Her fingers were bruised and chaffed and a wrenched ankle was throbbing.

Jansk crept over. "Do you know what he said to me?" Her voice was a whine.

Tevi peered out from under her blanket. There were tears in Jansk's eyes, but from what Tevi knew of the woman they were more likely due to frustration than grief.

"Who?" A silly question, Tevi realised, even as she spoke.

"Orpin - the dog-sucker."

The phrase was one Tevi had heard Jansk use on several occasions. She hadn't tried to find out its precise derivation, though several possibilities had occurred to her. From Jansk's tone, it was not a term of endearment.

Go away. I can't be bothered with you. The words were on Tevi's lips, but instead she said. "What's wrong?"

"I told you... Orpin."

"What's he done?"

"He won't let us name our first child after my father. He said Pa's an evil old toad."

"Are you pregnant?" Tevi asked.

"Not yet - but after all my Pa's done for us... Can you believe it?"

Tevi buried her head back under the blanket. She couldn't believe any of it.

By the next night, the mule drivers had apparently worked out a compromise for the name of the, as yet, unconceived child. Ignoring the rest of the team, they sat by the fire, staring intently into each other's eyes and mumbling words of endearment. Kisses grew ever more passionate and hands disappeared under the layers of clothing, accompanied by giggling. Tevi found the display acutely embarrassing. On the islands, people used the cover of darkness and didn't make love brazenly in the firelight. She tried to talk to Lerwill by way of a distraction, but his eyes were glazed and his speech slurred. What words she could distinguish carried little sense. Still she persisted until a gesture from Harrick prompted to her to leave the guide and slide across to where the traders were sitting.

"What's wrong with Lerwill?" she asked.

"Opium." Harrick whispered.

Tevi twisted to stare back at Lerwill. "He's an addict?" She had heard of the drug during her travels with Verron and Marith, and even seen users sprawled blank-eyed outside taverns and brothels, but had never made the connection with the guide's erratic behaviour.

"Sort of. He promised not to take any on the journey but he can't seem to function without it. I let him have a little to see if it helps." Harrick said quietly.

"Bloody stupid idea to try this route without a decent guide." Rorg muttered.

"It was all due to your grandmothers' stories." Harrick snapped back.

"I told you, from the start, not to believe the senile old liars."

"And it was your fault we were late getting to Treviston."

"Oh not that one again!"

In front of Tevi's horrified eyes the two traders swung into their bitterest argument to date. Both men were soon trying to get her to side with them.

"Tevi, have you ever heard a bigger load of crap?"

"He's the one talking out of his arse, isn't he Tevi?"

Tevi had no intention of being drawn in. With an excuse she left the traders and went to where the ponies and mules were hobbled. Her own mount snorted in the darkness and shuffled up to nuzzle against her. She hugged the pony around its neck, burying her face in the shaggy mane. "You and me. We're the only sane ones here." Tevi whispered. Although she wondered if confiding in an animal might prejudice her own case.

The next day, the trail rounded the side of a lofty, sheer-sided mountain before dropping into a thickly wooded valley. They were now on the eastern side of Whitfell Spur and the air was noticeably warmer and dryer. That night they camped under pine trees. For the first time firewood was not in short supply.

The trail continued its steady descent for another two days. On the morning of the sixteenth day after leaving Treviston, they reached the head of a wide valley. Fields and villages were spread below in a patchwork. The party made their way eagerly down the trail, encouraged by the thought of a dry bed and food other than trail rations.

At midday, they passed the substantial remains of an old castle, perched on a spur of rock jutting from the hillside. Heavy ramparts linked two towers, one tall, one short. All were built of dark grey granite and dotted with black arrow slits. Tevi looked up as they passed below.

She turned to Rorg who was riding beside her. "Who lives in the castle?"

"Nobody, as far as I know." Rorg said.

"So why is it here?"

"I think the castle goes back to before the region joined the Protectorate. A small garrison used it when this was the main route over the Spur. Since the new pass was built this valley has become a bit of a backwater and the soldiers have gone. They now patrol the new pass."

"The castle seems in good shape." Tevi observed.

"Perhaps the locals are keeping up the maintenance just in case."

The road took them on through the bare winter farmlands until, with enormous relief, the party entered the largest village, situated a mile and a half below the castle. The difficult part was now over. It was three days easy travel to Rizen. Harrick was as keen as everyone else to stop for the night. He soon arranged accommodation with the local reeve, a thin middle-aged woman, who led the small crowd of surprised villagers that came to greet them.

*****

The villagers used their arrival as an excuse for an impromptu party that evening. Visitors from the outside world were always cause for excitement, especially during the winter isolation. Virtually everyone from miles around squeezed into the meeting hall in the centre of the village, next to the reeve's cottage. Their curiosity, however, was confined to the local area, and the main interest was with Harrick, Rorg and their news from Rizen. Once it was learnt that Tevi came from 'far distant lands' she was more or less ignored, apart from a few curious stares and the customary band of small children, entranced by her mercenary tattoos.

A barrel of the local beer was opened and someone began playing a fiddle, although the space was too cramped to allow dancing. From what Tevi could see the meeting hall doubled as a hay barn and sheering shed. It would also be their accommodation for the night. Tevi lifted her eyes to the rafters and smiled. The thought of dry hay to sleep on and a roof over her head was bliss.

As the evening progressed the children were sent to bed and the crowd began to disperse, although it promised to be some time before the travellers would be able to sleep. The reeve, Sergo, was one of the few villagers to have any interest in the wider world. She had just engaged Tevi in talk about Lyremouth when the door opened and a grim-faced man stepped in. He made straight for the reeve, who stopped speaking mid-sentence at the sight of the newcomer's face.

"You've found more victims?" Sergo sounded frightened.

"Two sheep. Up by the north falls." The man jerked his head back over one shoulder.

"Spring's on the way. It won't stay around much longer, surely?" Sergo tone made it more a plea than a question.

"So you say, but I reckon it depends on who called it here, and why." The man crossed his arms on his chest belligerently while a small circle of villagers formed around him and Sergo. Voices in the rest of the barn were muted.

"No one has called it." Sergo's tone did not match the confidence of her words. "It's just the bad winter has forced the thing down the Spur from the high Barrodens up north."

"Or her, up at the castle, has called on another pet."

Sergo looked at him in dismay, clearly lost for words.

In the resulting tense silence Tevi asked, "What's been called here?"

"A basilisk." The man snapped out the answer.

"What's a basilisk?" Tevi was still confused.

"A monster from the wildlands. It feeds on life essence. It's got this third eye in the centre of its forehead. It locks eyes with its prey and drains the life out. Turns the body to stone, and the eyes become like jewels."

"Has it killed anyone?" Tevi asked.

"Not yet. So far it's just taken a dozen or so sheep." Sergo said weakly.

"But it's going to get someone soon. Mark my words - we've got to do something." The man glared at the reeve as he spoke.

"Nobody here can deal with it. You need magic on your side to stand a chance. It will go soon - I know it will." Sergo sounded as if she did not fully believe her own words.

"Can't you call in a sorcerer to help you?" Tevi asked, remembering the one in Treviston. After the journey over the mountains, Tevi would happily have directed a dozen basilisks in her direction.

"There's one too many in these parts as it is." someone in the crowd muttered in scorn.

"Most likely her behind it." a second voice added.

Others agreed

The angry man turned to face Tevi. "We've got a Coven sorcerer, black amulet and everything. We never used to have one and were far better off like that. We got by with a simple witch, a healer who could turn her hand to a bit of rain calling. Nothing much happens around here; we don't need anyone fancy. But when old Colly died we got a sorcerer sent here. If I could I'd slit her throat." The man's face twisted in hatred. "Take my word for it - she's evil and she knows all about the basilisk." The last sentence was spat at the reeve, then the man spun on his heel and stalked towards the door.

Sergo called after the departing figure. "She can't be involved. The Coven know what they're doing. They wouldn't send her here if she was corrupt or dangerous."

"If you believed that you'd go and ask her to help." The man tossed the words over his shoulder as he left the hall.

Nobody else challenged the reeve's statement directly to her face, but there were plenty of muttered comments. As the crowd in the hall thinned still further Tevi found herself seated on a rickety bench, next to a plump elderly woman, who was sipping noisily from a mug of beer.

"What's so bad about the sorcerer?" Tevi asked, to open the conversation.

The woman glanced around the room, then put her head close to Tevi's and whispered theatrically. "She's up to no good." The woman nodded to reinforce her words. "When she arrived she wouldn't stay in the village. We offered her Colly's old house, but she moved up to the castle. Said if we wanted her help we could go up there. But I won't. Not after want happened to Gerry's daughter. It's a mercy everyone's been so healthy, hardly as much as a cold since last summer, 'cause there's no one who'd risk going up to the castle if they were sick. Gerry was the one who came in just now with the news about the sheep. The sorcerer's put charms and things up on the hilltops. I dread to think what they're for. Gerry's been hunting them down. He reckons he's destroyed about five of them, but how many more are there? That's what I want to know, and what are they for? That sorcerer's up to mischief. Some nights you see lights flickering around the walls. Gives me the creeps."

"Perhaps she just wanted peace and quiet to practice her magic. The charms might be totally harmless." Tevi suggested.

The woman snorted. "She's hiding something. She's got a room she won't let anyone in. We know because Dorin went up there to help out at first, but he wouldn't stay. He wasn't too clear in his wits to start off with, but he's been worse since he came back. And you should hear some of the stories he has to tell." In her enthusiasm to recount the tale the woman's voice had risen. "Then Shiral went up there to work for her. Now she was a bright girl. But something happened. After a month, the sorcerer brought her back to her parents. The girl was out cold for three days and when she woke up, she just screamed at everything for hours on end. Her parents say she still has horrible nightmares, and we've never got a clear story out of her. She was frightened senseless by something up there. Now the sorcerer has 'things' running loose at the castle. Sergo says they're bears, but I've never seen bears act like that. And there's other creatures. She has a magpie that talks to her. It spies on folk."

The woman stopped and glanced fearfully over her shoulder, as if expecting to see the malevolent bird behind her. Her voice dropped to a whisper again. "But Gerry's daughter was the worst. The girl had cut her leg and it was turning bad. When he saw there was nothing for it, Gerry took her up to the castle. The sorcerer took the child and sent him away - forced him out of the castle. The next day the sorcerer brought the child back down to the village." The speaker sat back and glanced fearfully in the direction of the castle then lent forward to finish decisively, "The girl was dead."

"Can't you report the sorcerer to the Coven or something?" Tevi asked.

"That would be for the reeve, and if you ask me she's too frightened." The villager scowled in Sergo's direction.

Tevi left the elderly woman and wandered thoughtfully around the room. She was not totally convinced of the sorcerer's wickedness - the villager had clearly enjoyed her own story much too much to take it all on trust. The death of a seriously ill child was not proof of murder, and as for the rest, the Treviston sorcerer clearly had a peculiar sense of humour, perhaps this one did as well. The basilisk was a more urgent, and probably unrelated, problem. Tevi was considering the villagers' plight when she was disturbed by Orpin's whining voice.

"Tevi, I need your help."

"What with?" Tevi said, impatiently

"Jansk is ignoring me."

"What do you expect me to do about it?" Tevi snapped.

"Well... I thought... perhaps if you were to pretend that you were, you know, getting keen on me..." Orpin shuffled his feet looking slightly embarrassed. "She'd get jealous and stop acting funny."

The suggestion did not merit a reply, and three more days with the muleteers did not bare thinking about. On the far side of the barn, Harrick was now talking to Sergo. Tevi headed straight in their direction.

Tevi spoke in a rush. "Harrick, I don't know if you've heard, but the villagers have a problem with a basilisk. Now we're over the pass you won't need me any more. I wondered if you'd consider paying me off early, so I can stay here and help out."

Sergo was overjoyed, and made her own appeal to the trader. "Please. You don't know what this could mean to us."

Harrick hesitated, slightly shame-faced. "I don't mind you staying, but I don't have enough coin on me. I was counting on selling the merchandise in Rizen first."

The traders were certainly running to a tight budget, but it was not Tevi's concern. She shrugged and said, "You can pay my salary into the Rizen guildhall. I'll collect my share when I get there and the guild can keep its quarter."

Tevi knew she could trust Harrick to do that. Even if he would short-change her, no trader with any sense would dare try cheating the mercenaries' guild. In the end Harrick offered to let her keep the pony she had been riding as collateral against her wages. Everyone was happy with the arrangements - except Orpin.

*****

The following morning Tevi stood with the pony to wave good-bye to Harrick's team as they disappeared down the road. The rest of the day was spent learning as much as she could about her quarry, talking to the villagers and getting a feel for the surrounding countryside. It involved a lot of travelling and being introduced to folk, all very keen to talk to her, yet with very little real information to give. Only one ancient woman, huddled by her great-grandson's fire, could remember the last time a basilisk had troubled the valley, but her wits were going and her speech rambled without direction. Tevi finally left after lengthy questioning, still unsure whether the woman's advice was for killing basilisks or peeling potatoes. The reference to eyes could have applied to either.

In the late afternoon, a shepherd took her to see the most recent victims of the monster. In the pastures above the main village stood two stone sheep, their eyes shining like polished glass. Tevi knelt and ran her hand over the back of one. It wasn't proper stone. It felt soft and crumbly, like a powdery grey chalk. Dust clung to Tevi's fingers and already much of the fine detail on the wool was gone, blown away by the wind that gusted over the hillside.

On all sides, snow covered the ground, pock-marked with the sharp round hoof-prints of sheep, and the larger, softer paw-marks of the basilisk, like those of a great cat, stalking its prey. The villagers' estimates of the size of the beast had varied wildly. Tevi tried to form her own judgement, measuring the width of the prints with her fingers. It was hard to come to any definite conclusion, apart from casting doubt on the more sensational claims.

The paw-marks ran off in an undulating line across the fields. Tevi and her guide followed them for some way, until the trail reached a rocky ford across a stream, fringed with ice. The shepherd's two dogs ran sweeps around them, excitedly sniffing the snow, though probably more interested in rabbits than basilisks. On the other side of the stream, the paw-marks continued their line towards a wooded area, high on the hillside, a mile or so away.

"That's were it's hiding out. Its tracks always lead there." The shepherd said and pointed to the trees.

"Has no one tried putting snares out for it?" Tevi asked.

"One or two, but no one's dared go back to see if they've caught anything."

"Since the beast struck yesterday, they obviously haven't."

"True." The shepherd agreed with Tevi's assessment.

"Have you seen it?" Tevi asked.

"My sister did once, at dusk, drinking at the pool on Matte's farm. That's when it comes out most - dawn and dusk."

Tevi stood on the banks of the stream and studied the distant wood, shading her eyes against the setting sun - a reminder that dusk was not far away on that day. The trees gave no clues as to their occupant. Tevi's survey followed the line of the hillside down to the valley floor. Three small villages and a dozen isolated farmhouses dotted the fields and riverside water meadows. Sheep, goats and cattle grazed the lower slopes of the valley. Above them, almost directly opposite where Tevi was standing, the castle hunched on its outcrop of rock, a sombre presence in the valley. The fortifications were already fading into the shadows of evening. The shepherd followed the direction of Tevi's eyes and spat into the snow but said nothing, only whistled in the dogs and led the way back down the hillside to the welcoming lights of the village.

That night Tevi was offered lodging in the reeve's home. Sergo lived with a woman relative and a young son - Tevi was unable to work out whose, but the three were so close it didn't seem to matter. The family lived in a small room at one end of the cottage, while the rest of the building was given over to a cow-barn, dairy and all-purpose workroom.

Tevi felt it would be ill-mannered to refuse the offer of a bed, even though the cottage was cramped and noisy - particularly when a group of villagers squeezed in and stayed up late, to recount all they knew of the basilisk and its ways. Their advice didn't amount to much, apart from a general agreement that looking into the third eye was the thing to avoid. However, the cottage was warmer than the sheering barn and homely, smelling of cows, cheese and wood-smoke. And the bed, when Tevi finally got to it, was soft.

*****

Dawn the next morning was cloudless, though the sun held little warmth. The mountains of the Spur cut a sharp line against the washed blue winter sky. In the reeve's cottage, Tevi was awakened before first light. While Sergo and her relatives began their daily tasks, she sat by the fire with a bowl of porridge and completed the last of her preparations, sharpening her weapons and checking them for weaknesses that might betray her at a crucial spot. A knock on the door announced the arrival of the village blacksmith. In addition to the promised small iron shield, he bought an old two-handed battle-axe. It was probably scavenged from the castle decades ago and since used for chopping wood, but it had been sharpened to a keen edge. Tevi accepted it with a wry smile, remembering Cayell's remarks concerning axe-women.

On the previous afternoon, in a display of bravado, two local youths had volunteered to accompany Tevi as far as the wood. They now joined her outside the sheering barn. The three of them left the village to a chorus of good-wishes. The young men were still putting a brave face on for their friends, though Tevi wondered if they were starting to regret their rashness - she was wondering the same thing about herself.

The wood was silent as they approached. All that could be heard was the whisper of wind in the branches, the bleating of sheep and the distant clatter of a cowbell. Not far to their left a clear trail of paw-marks, less than a day old, disappeared into the trees. The basilisk was using a faint trail made by wild deer. Tevi tried to judge how far it went, but although most of the summer undergrowth beneath the trees had died back there were still enough evergreen leaves and coils of dry bramble to prevent her seeing more than a few yards ahead.

"Do you want to wait out here for me?" Tevi asked.

"We'll follow you a little way." One of the youths said, and managed a sickly smile. "After all you've got the weapons if the thing shows up."

Progress was slow and uncomfortable, watching each footfall as best they could while crouched almost double due to low hanging branches. They had advanced about a furlong into the wood when they heard the unmistakable sound of a large animal nosing through the undergrowth a short way ahead. The noise was certainly too loud to be a bird, although it might be a lost sheep. The rustling ceased briefly, then began moving again. The sound played among the tree trunks, making it difficult to assess direction or speed. Tevi's hands tightened on the shaft of her spear. Her heart thudded against her ribs. Behind her the villagers froze as if already turned to stone, even their breathing stopped.

"Wait here. If it's safe I'll call to you." Tevi whispered.

"Right." The two men seemed more than willing to follow her instructions.

"And if anything goes wrong..."

"We run."

Tevi smiled grimly. "Right."

Twenty yards further on Tevi reached the edge of a small, snow-filled clearing. She hid behind a tree with her back braced against its broad trunk, then cautiously twisted and peered around the side. The rising sun had cleared the tops of the trees. Light glinted dazzling white off the icy ground, while in the shadows the snow was palest blue. The bushes and trees on the far side made a dark, knotted, unbroken barrier. At first nothing stirred, then a bush twitched, and then another and then stillness. Tevi's eyes were locked in dread fascination on the spot where the last sign of movement had been. Abruptly the branches dipped and were pushed back. The basilisk broke through the undergrowth to stop a little way clear of the trees, sniffing the air.

It was much smaller than Tevi had expected. The size of a large dog, with a long sinuous neck and a head that would have been rather like an otter's, if it weren't for the protruding third eye, bulging in the centre of its forehead. The animal was dark brown, covered in a thick, shaggy pelt, that told of its home in the high northern mountains. It stood poised as if ready to spring, long tail trailing in the snow. Its nose pointed into the air, casting about for scent.

Tevi ensured her sword was loose in its scabbard and the axe secure on the strap hung over her shoulder. She took the spear firmly in one hand and raised the shield in front of her face, guarding her eyes. All she could see of the creature was its shadow on the ground. She stepped around the tree and out into the open. The basilisk gave a soft whine and started to pad towards her.

Under the rim of her shield Tevi watched the basilisk's shadow as it approached. She noted the swinging motion of its head, the roll of its shoulders and its graceful cat-like gait. And will it also pounce like a cat? she wondered Or charge like a boar? The villagers had been able to give no advice.

The basilisk halted a few feet away, wary, and half-crouched on its haunches. It appeared to rise up and then drop back on all fours. Its head swung low and out to the right. Tevi prayed that she was interpreting the movement of the shadow correctly. For a split second, she almost gave in to the temptation to lift her shield and confirm her guesswork, to see clearly what the basilisk was doing. She clenched her teeth; a second's lapse in concentration - that was all it would take.

Without warning, the beast sprung towards her, a high, lunging attack. The claws of one paw caught on the edge of Tevi's shield and pulled it aside, but already she was moving, ducking with her eyes closed, and trusting upwards with the spear. She felt the jolt as the point made contact and lodged firmly in the animal's chest. The basilisk's piercing howl filled the clearing. It flung itself back, dragging the spear from Tevi's hand. Still with her eyes shut tightly, Tevi shrugged the axe off her shoulder and grasped the handle. She risked one brief glimpse of her quarry. Scarcely an arm's length away the basilisk's head was thrown back in a second long howl. Its front paws scraped at the shaft of the spear, while its body crumpled against the snow. The axe felt solid in Tevi's hands. She swung as hard as she could and, with a single stroke, decapitated the beast.

Suddenly it was very quiet. In front of her, the headless carcass collapsed, gushing red blood that melted into the snow. There was the faintest twitch of a back leg, and then the beast was still. Tevi was surprised to realise she was shaking violently. She sunk to her knees, breathing deeply and waited for the pounding of her heart to ease. The shaft of the spear was within reach. A quick tug pulled it free and Tevi used it as a staff to help herself stand. Unexpectedly, she felt a childish grin spread across her face. Fighting back giggles, she scooped up a handful of snow and rubbed it roughly over her eyes, cheeks and mouth, and took another deep breath.

"It's alright. You can come now. It's dead." She shouted to the young men.

Despite her assurance, they advanced cautiously through the woods, with hesitant steps and hushed voices, until they reached the clearing and saw the scene before them. Broad smiles replaced their anxious expressions.

"Hey, you did it!"

"Swiped its head clean off!" They gave vent to twin exclamations of delight.

"It was pretty straight forward. The thing didn't..." Tevi stopped herself; too much modesty might seem arrogant.

Feeling slightly detached, Tevi stood back and watched as the men approached the body, prodding it with their feet and making silly jokes between themselves. Her gaze shifted away and set on the basilisk's head. It had bounced, rolled and ended up in a small hollow in the snow, a dozen paces away. Tevi walked over and grabbed it by the fur between the ears. "Who gets to keep the trophy?"

One of the villagers laughed. "You do, if you want it."

"It could go on the wall of the sheering shed." The other suggested.

Tevi held the basilisk's head up level with her own. The jaw hung open, revealing a row of blunt peg-like teeth. The basilisk would never have been able to deliver a serious bite, and its body, although well-muscled, was ill adapted for a fight. Tevi had already noted its claws were weak and blunt. The creature had only one real weapon - the strange protrusion on its forehead. Tevi examined the dome-like bulge and the thick lids. Close up they looked more like a mouth than an eye. With the thumb and one finger of her free hand she tried to prise them open, to see what lay beneath. The lips were just starting to part when Tevi felt the sudden twitch of muscle under her fingers. The central eye snapped open.

*****

The young men were involved in a debate about the best way to remove the basilisk's pelt. They didn't realise anything was wrong until Tevi screamed. They spun in her direction, in time to see her crash down to her knees, the echo of her scream still ringing in the air. Both Tevi's hands were pressed tightly against her eyes.

The men froze, caught on the brink of flight, but no new danger was apparent. Slowly, one man crept to Tevi's side and knelt beside her.

"What's wrong Tevi?" he asked, nervously.

She did not answer.

He took hold of her wrists, trying to pull her hands away so he could see her face. It was a futile attempt. Whatever the problem was, her strength was unaffected and he could not compete. Tevi's shoulders shook with gasps, sounding as if they were ripped from the back of her throat. The man looked up to his friend, unsure of what to do. The other could only shrug.

"What's happened?" The kneeling man tried once more.

Again there was no answer, instead Tevi threw back her head and screamed again. Her hand clenched into fists.

"Tevi?"

At last, she turned her face towards his voice. The young man found himself staring into two blind eyes of polished glass.

*****

A small group of people huddled in one corner of the reeve's house, arguing among themselves. Tevi lay on a bunk against the opposite wall, well within earshot, but completely incapable of paying attention to what was said. It felt as if her eyes had been replaced by red-hot coals. The pain flared out and ran like liquid fire across her face and down her neck, surging with each throb of her pulse. Nothing existed except the pain. A crude ice pack of snow rolled in linen was tied over her eyes, for what little good it did. Despite her efforts at silence, Tevi knew she was whimpering like a whipped child.

Sergo's voice was the clearest, "It's her only hope."

"Better to give her a knife, like she asked, and let her put an end to it." another argued.

"No, not yet. The pain will probably ease in a day or two." said a third voice.

"But she'll still be blind." Sergo spoke again. "We owe her a better chance."

"She won't get that at the castle."

"We could send her to Rizen."

"Is she fit to travel?"

"It's easy to give advice you wouldn't take yourself."

"Enough!" Sergo raised her voice and put a stop to the muttered disagreements. "She can choose."

The reeve walked to Tevi's side and put a hand upon her shoulder. "Tevi, do you hear me?"

Tevi managed a nod to show she was listening.

"We can do nothing for you here." Sergo said softly.

"I know." Tevi's voice was a rasp.

"I think you should go to the sorcerer at the castle. She might be able to help you."

"Is that likely?" Tevi had to fight to form each word.

"There's a lot of silly rumours, and I admit I'm a bit disturbed by her. But I don't think you have any other options." Sergo glanced over her shoulder at the sullen group behind her. "Do you agree, Tevi?"

After a long pause, Tevi's mouth formed the word, "Yes." She would have agreed to anything.

*****

Tevi was vaguely aware that she was being bundled out of the cottage and onto her pony. There were voices but she couldn't be bothered to make out the words. The only detail that registered was that her weapons were still attached to the saddle pack. Presumably, nobody had taken the time to unload her belongings. Tevi certainly had no use for them. The only thing that sustained her was the thought, With any luck, the sorcerer will complete the basilisk's job and turn me to stone, and statues don't feel pain.

The journey to the castle seemed unending. When they at last reached the gates, hands helped her dismount, patted her on the shoulder, and guided her to the pony's reins. She wrapped them tightly around her wrist and leaned against the flank, fighting the twin urges to pass-out and throw-up. Her legs felt as weak as a baby's. Without the support of the pony, Tevi knew she would have fallen. A bell chimed loudly. One of the people who had brought her must have rung it, or maybe it was the sorcerer's magic. Whatever the cause, the bell was followed by the sound of her guides, running away down the hillside as fast as their legs could carry them. In a better state, she might have been apprehensive, to be left forsaken at the sorcerer's doors. However Tevi was now completely beyond caring.

There was a long silence, broken only by the whisper of wind through the long grass and the call of wild birds. Then came soft, furtive shuffling from the other side of the gate. The hinges groaned as it swung open. Knowing what was expected of it, the pony trotted forward a dozen yards or so, dragging Tevi with it. She felt the loss of warmth as she went from sunshine into shadow. The ground under the pony's hooves changed from earth to cobblestones. The reverberations indicated that she was now in a large, enclosed courtyard. The gate closed behind them - not a loud crash but a solid, decisive thud.

Rapid chattering broke out just above Tevi's head. Small things rushed passed her feet. Something with claws touched her knee. Then uneven, shambling steps came slowly in her direction, accompanied by wet, guttural breathing - it was surely not the sorcerer, nor anything human. Whatever it was frightened the pony. It skittered away, nearly jerking Tevi to her knees. She yanked on the reins, pulling the pony to a stop. There was no point running from anything in the castle; it could do its worst; she only hoped it would do it quickly.

Again the pony tried to flee. Lacking the will to fight, Tevi released the reins, and let it go. She was left alone, surrounded by the unseen creatures of the castle. The ground seemed to sway beneath Tevi's feet. She nearly stumbled, but somehow remained standing. Her teeth clenched shut. The approaching thing grew near. Something wet touched her hand and, despite all her resolve, Tevi flinched away.

A new sound caught Tevi's ear - the unmistakable rhythm of human footsteps, the beat of heel and toe on stone. The sorcerer was coming, walking confidently and descending stairs. The shuffling stilled and retreated. The small things around Tevi's feet fled. Tevi twisted her head, following the sound of the sorcerer's footsteps, listening as they reverberated over a hollow, wooden platform. The feet descended more steps and stopped. In the sudden silence, a harsh, inhuman screech rang out, echoing off stone walls. The cry seemed to reverberate from beyond the limits of the known world, cold and desolate.

For the space of two dozen heartbeats nothing in the courtyard stirred. Then the human footsteps resumed, walking steadily towards her, getting closer. With the last of her courage Tevi turned towards the sound of the sorcerer's advancing feet, waiting until they were no more than ten paces away before she spoke.

"Please. I need your help."

"I know. I've been expecting you."

Disclaimers: see part 1

Map of the Protectorate

Part Two - The Sorcerer

Chapter 1: A Student of Magic

The wind blew in sharp gusts over the castle walls, sending flurries of snow to swirl and chase around the battlements. Stars glittered coldly in the clear night sky between the boughs of trees growing in the enclosed courtyard. A warmer, yellow light spilled from the thin arrow slits of the great hall and lay in bars across the trampled snow covering the cobblestones. Icicles hung from lintels, but the windows, sealed by magic, allowed no cold drafts to enter the building.

Inside it was warm and still. The steady light from several small floating spheres was supplemented by the red glow from the stone-built fireplace. In front of the hearth lay a brown bear, sleeping peacefully on a rug like a huge dog. Its faint snores and the crackling of flames were the only sounds.

The hall was clearly a workroom. Charts and well-stocked bookcases lined the walls. Open shelves held collections of dried herbs, bones, stones and arcane instruments. Larger items were stacked in corners. Dozens of stoppered bottles, filled with a multicoloured assortment of liquids, reflected back the firelight from every part of the room. The flagstones of the floor, although stained and pitted in places, were swept clean.

An open wooden staircase was fixed to the wall at one end. It gave access to two doorways. The lower of these was halfway up the wall; the higher was level with the blackened timbers of the rafters. The opposite end of the room had a raised dais with an ancient table. Its scorched and battered top was bare apart from an open book, an ink bottle and a pen.

A floating sphere hung over the table, but this one was very different to the lamps. It was nearly two feet in diameter. A green sickly tincture rippled over it, while the surface quivered in the soft currents of air, like a soap bubble. The light from the fire and lamps did not appear to touch the sphere. It was semi-transparent, but the indistinct outlines seen through it did not look like the far side of the room. It did not move, but it still gave the unmistakable impression of searching - or hunting.

Some yards away sat the sphere's creator, Jemeryl, oath-bound sorcerer of the Coven at Lyremouth. She leaned back to view her handiwork. Her chin was supported by her cupped hand. Her free arm was draped along the back of the chair. One leg was hitched over the armrest. Her clothes were loose fitting and clearly chosen for comfort rather than to reflect her status. They looked not so much as if she had slept in them, but rather that it would be hard to tell if she did. Her face was composed of angles, narrow chin, pinched nose, chiselled cheekbones. Her hazel eyes studied the green sphere intently. Then, slowly, the serious expression gave way to an impish grin, that transformed her face in a display of youthful delight. Her fist punched the air in triumph. She ran a hand through her curly, auburn hair then twisted her head to view Klara, the magpie, who was perched on a nearby bookcase, busily preening her left wing.

"Well, what do you think?" Jemeryl asked.

Klara hardly glanced in the sphere's direction. "It's not exactly pretty." the bird said.

"It isn't supposed to be, but it will create a lot of interest in the Coven."

"Why? Is there a serious shortage of hideous green blobs?"

Jemeryl grinned at the magpie, before swinging her leg down and bouncing to her feet. She paced around the table, appraising the shimmering globe from all sides. "It's the theory behind it that's important. By all the accepted rules of magic it ought to be completely and utterly impossible." she said softly.

Klara flew over to the table and considered the sphere with distaste. "Well personally, I think it's a bit of a shame that it isn't."

The sphere emitted a faint high-pitched whine, that sounded like a hundred trapped mosquitoes. The air around it was unpleasantly chill.

Klara fluffed up her feathers. "I suppose I should just be grateful it doesn't smell - or is that likely to come next?"

Using the back of her hand, Jemeryl brushed the sarcastic magpie off the table, ignoring the indignant squawk. She hooked a small, three-legged stool from under the table with her foot. Klara returned to her perch on the bookshelf while Jemeryl sat down and pulled an open book towards her. For several minutes she riffled back through the preceding pages, cross-checking her notes, then she picked up the pen and began writing. All was silent except for the faint scratching of quill on paper. On the other side of the room, Klara tucked her head under her wing and fell asleep.

*****

The logs on the fire were burning low by the time Jemeryl put down the pen and stood up. She stretched her arms behind her and rolled her head from side to side to loosen stiffened muscles. As usual, she had lost track of time while she worked, though with her sorcerer's senses she knew it was still well short of midnight. She gave a mental shrug. One advantage of her current situation was that she could set her own schedule. There was nothing to stop her from taking a late supper and having a lie-in the next morning - especially as there was one more thing she wanted to do.

"Now what I need is..." she spoke aloud, awakening Klara,

Her staff was leaning in a nearby corner - six feet of polished oak wood, unadorned apart from the iron-caps on either end. It looked better suited for use in a street brawl than as a magical aid. From her observation point atop the bookcase, Klara watched with increasing alarm as the sorcerer grabbed the staff and returned to the sphere. After five years as Jemeryl's familiar, the magpie knew an ill omen when she saw one. She launched herself from her perch and landed on the head of the sleeping bear.

"Quick Ruff! Get up and hide. Jem is going to do something silly." Klara said.

The bear awoke with a jolt and snorted, a loud, surprised, "Wuff."

At the magpie's insistence he scrabbled to his feet and lumbered down the hall as fast as his four legs would carry him, vanishing from sight behind a heavy cupboard in a far corner. After a few seconds, his head reappeared, as he peered cautiously around the edge, with Klara still in place between his ears.

Jemeryl grinned at the sheltering animals. "Cowards! Look, they aren't frightened." she called and gestured to the row of three squirrels on a high shelf, that were peering down at the table with their bright inquisitive eyes.

"They haven't got the sense." Klara replied as she and Ruff again disappeared from view.

Jemeryl spoke to the squirrels, using tones normally reserved for babies. "Don't worry your fluffy little heads. Auntie Jemi knows what she's doing."

"Rubbish!" came the derisory squawk from behind the cupboard.

The smile faded from Jemeryl's lips as she turned her attention back to the sphere, and a look of intense concentration took its place. Her eyes stared at the shimmering green globe, however her perception was not limited to sight. Her extra-dimensional senses let her see far beyond the boundaries of the ordinary world of the ungifted. Long seconds slipped past, then she raised the staff horizontally in front of her, holding it firmly in both hands. It was time to put theory to the test.

The sphere heaved and began to slowly swell in size, accompanied by an increase in the volume of humming. From deep inside its core, a faint glow appeared, pulsing and surging like a heartbeat. The light grew stronger. Forms started to congeal inside the globe, twisting and fighting like imprisoned phantoms. Jemeryl's breath came in strained gasps and sweat beaded her forehead, while the intertwined shapes grew ever more chaotic. They had almost filled the entire sphere, touching and flowing around the inner surface, when, without warning, the green globe exploded, filling the hall with acrid yellow smoke.

The blast reverberated loudly around the stone walls of the hall. Glassware on the shelves rattled and dust rained down from the rafters. As the last of the echoes faded into silence, there was only the sound of three sets of squirrel claws, frantically scrabbling on the flagstones as the animals dashed for the exit. Hand held over her mouth and nose, Jemeryl followed as quickly as she could. She bumped into furniture in her haste and swore as she cracked her ankle on an obstacle before making it through the doorway and into the clean air of the covered porch. She leaned against the wall, coughing spasmodically. Wisps of luminous smoke trailed away from her hair and clothes on the wind.

In a blur of black and white, Klara landed on a nearby ledge. The magpie put her head on one side and peered at the sorcerer. "Did you mean to do that, Jem?" she asked innocently.

A fresh burst of coughing prevented Jemeryl answering. Once it subsided, she rested her head back on the stonework, and took in deep gulps of the icy night air. Her eyes stung, her throat would be sore tomorrow and her ears were still ringing from the blast, though she had taken no serious harm. The aegis of the staff had shielded her and the squirrels. The other animals had been at a safe distance - at least she hoped so; there was still no sign of Ruff. Even as Jemeryl realised this, the bear ambled from the door at the foot of the adjacent small tower, trailing a plume of yellow smoke behind him and carrying a thick cloak in his mouth. She took it from him gratefully and pulled it around her shoulders. The bear sneezed, and shook his head. More yellow smoke drifted away from his fur.

Through the open doorway of the great hall the light spheres were lost in the sickly yellow haze. There was no point trying to clear up; it could all wait until morning. Jemeryl sighed and stepped from the shelter of the porch into the snow-covered courtyard. All the buildings of the castle opened onto this enclosed space, surrounded by the battlements. There were the kitchens where she could find supper, and the small tower where she had her bedroom and study. She considered them both, but her stomach was queasy from the smoke, and to reach her bedroom she would have to use the stairs at the rear of the hall - better to wait a while for the air to clear. So instead she headed for the keep. The tall stone tower that dominated the site served no purpose in her work. She needn't have bothered putting it back into the reconstruction - except it completed the aesthetic feel of the castle and provided a wonderful lookout point.

Jemeryl climbed the stairs to the small drawbridge and entered under the old portcullis. The spiral staircase led her up past the old armoury and the barrack room, and onto the roof. She emerged under stars. The morning's freezing mists had covered the stonework in a coat of sparkling rime that had not melted during the short winter's day. It crunched faintly under her hand as she leaned against the battlement and looked down.

The castle courtyard was laid out below, with its circle of buildings. Five beech trees grew in the enclosure. They did not truly belong in the reconstruction, having sprouted after the garrison left, but the squirrels liked them so Jemeryl had let the trees stay. Ruff had remained in the courtyard and was padding around the trunks, sniffing at anything that caught his notice. While Jemeryl watched the other bear, Tumble, came out of the kitchens to join him. The two began to play, skidding on the icy cobbles and sending up plumes of powdery snow as they chased each other between the trees. Squirrels scattered in front of them, chattering in indignation - or maybe it was excitement. Sometimes even a sorcerer could be hard put to know exactly what a squirrel was feeling.

Jemeryl wandered to the other side of the tower and looked down on a winter landscape of bare fields, deserted pathways and the snaking line of the river. White snow, brilliant in the light of the rising moon, was cut by inky black shadows under the fir trees. Small silhouettes of cattle and sheep clustered near their barns. The houses of the village were grouped in picturesque disorder around the sheering shed. The wind had dropped and the far side of the valley was lost in blue-grey mist, through which twinkled the lights from distant farmsteads. It was starkly beautiful but, as Jemeryl looked out, she was aware of having mixed feelings. Klara landed on the parapet beside her.

From the village came the faint sound of music and voices, the noise carrying cleanly on the cold air. There seemed to be some sort of a party going on, presumably to entertain the small group of travellers who had passed under the castle walls earlier that day, leading a train of mules. Visitors from the outside world were rare at any time of year. It was unsurprising if the local folk were making an event of their arrival. Jemeryl looked thoughtfully at the high mountains beyond the head of the valley. Even with her magic she wouldn't fancy crossing Whitfell Spur in midwinter. She wondered what desperate circumstances had prompted the travellers to risk the journey - perhaps she should go and find out.

Jemeryl's eyes returned to the village. She was drawn by a sudden desire to go down and join the party, to meet people and talk. She stared at the village hall bleakly, imagining the kind of reception she would get. Jemeryl couldn't remember the last cheerful face she had seen, but she certainly wouldn't find any if she entered the village.

"They don't like you, you know." Klara volunteered.

"I know." Jemeryl sighed deeply. "I just wish I knew why."

As a child, in the village of her birth, Jemeryl had inspired fear and resentment. The other children would not have her as a playmate, although they soon learnt it was unwise to throw stones at her. When she was four her family had persuaded the local witch to adopt her, more to rid their house of Jemeryl's disturbing presence than to benefit her career. She had felt no regret to go. It had been a home without love. At the age of eleven she had left the village to study at Lyremouth, still holding a child's contempt for the ungifted. The education she had received from the Coven had done much to increase her tolerance and understanding - for all the good it had done with the villagers.

True, she had not really wanted to come to the valley, had not wanted to leave Lyremouth. She loved the esoteric study of magic and would happily devote her life to it. However, the Coven rules insisted new sorcerers spend time out in the world, to learn at first hand the needs of the ungifted. Her application for assignment to the valley had been a long shot; she was ridiculously overqualified. To her astonishment, the authorities had agreed.

At the time, Jemeryl had assumed they saw things the same way she did - the rule was a waste of talent. All her local responsibilities in the valley would take no more than a few days each month, leaving her free to concentrate on her studies. When the necessary period in the community was completed, she would be able to return to Lyremouth with a substantial body of work behind her. Jemeryl had a high opinion of her own talents and would not have been in the least surprised to learn that many of her teachers secretly agreed with her.

Two years had passed since she had arrived in the valley. The research had gone well, but she had to admit that her relationship with the villagers had not proceeded totally to plan. Over the months, her contact with them had dwindled to the point of non-existence. On the rare occasions they crossed paths with her, many displayed blatant hostility or fear.

"I've tried to be nice to them." she said defensively.

"That was a waste of effort." Klara retorted.

"I know. I just couldn't seem to talk to any of them."

Klara's head swivelled towards her. "If you want my opinion, the lessons about getting on with the ungifted took totally the wrong approach. Instead of stressing the ideals of citizenship and equality, they should have taught you a few amusing anecdotes about sheep. That would have helped you fit in - it's all the locals ever seem to talk about."

"I think they now talk about me quite a lot." Jemeryl said with bitter honesty.

"In a year's time you can apply to return to Lyremouth; then they'll have to find something new to talk about - or go back to the sheep."

The dream of returning to Lyremouth was what sustained Jemeryl through the setbacks, the hard work and the isolation, but, standing on the battlements, she was hit by unusual self-doubts. "Am I deluding myself, thinking my research is important? That they'll want me back? Perhaps the Coven let me take this assignment because it's all they think I'm fit for."

"Nonsense. The office is trivial. It wouldn't strain the powers of a third-rate witch." Klara answered.

"Even so, I'm not fulfilling its requirements."

"Only because the locals don't want you to. It's not your fault, Jem. You can't force them to come to you for help." Klara spoke reasonably.

Jemeryl was not convinced. "I'm supposed to be in control. It shouldn't come down to what they will or won't let me do. I'm supposed to be looking after them."

"You've done your best. You've set up so many charms to keep out enemies and illness, a belligerent hamster couldn't enter the valley, especially if it were feeling a bit under the weather."

Jemeryl pursed her lips and sighed. "I'm not sure. I might have overstepped the mark a bit."

"In what way?"

"Over-protecting people is bad for them. It has side effects. They can lose all common-sense and start acting like children."

"In which case it might be nasty. Some of them didn't have a long way to go to start with." the magpie said with heavy irony.

"Perhaps I should go and talk to Sergo again."

"You are in a dismal mood. Look, if I say I'm sorry your sphere blew up will it make you happy? You can invoke another one tomorrow." Klara hopped onto Jemeryl's hand.

"There's a strange emanation in the air tonight." Jemeryl said slowly.

"A premonition, or are we downwind of village dung-heap?"

"Probably just me worrying." Jemeryl studied the distant village for a long time before asking softly, "If something was seriously wrong they'd come to me, wouldn't they?"

"Of course they would. They'd race up here like scared rabbits." Klara asserted.

Jemeryl stroked the magpie's head and dismissed all thought of going down to the village. If she admitted the truth to herself, she was nervous of the villagers, and unwilling to face their hostility - it brought back too many painful memories from her childhood. She forced a smile to her lips. "Perhaps things aren't so bad. I've got plenty of time to study and if the villagers aren't happy and healthy, they've only got themselves to blame. Still, I wouldn't object to someone to talk to."

"Don't I count?" Klara sounded indignant.

"You know you don't."

Music from the village drifted up on the wind. Jemeryl turned her back on the sound and retraced her steps down the tall tower, through the courtyard and into the kitchens, in search of supper and then bed. She waited at the doorway, holding it open until the bears galloped into the building after her, then pushed it shut, leaving the courtyard once more deserted under the stars.

*****

Two mornings later, Jemeryl sat at the desk in her study. A large book lay open before her, but her attempts to read were not going well. Her concentration kept drifting, teased by something that was pricking the edges of her mind. It was even more irritating since she did not have a clue as to what that something was. For the third time she started at the beginning of a long paragraph. Before she got half way through, her attention slipped again and she lost the thread of the argument.

"I don't know what's wrong with me today."

"You mean in addition to what's wrong with you generally?" Klara asked.

The gibe from her familiar softened the frown on Jemeryl's face. With a yawn, the sorcerer flipped the covers shut and stretched back in her chair. The book could wait.

"Maybe I've been overdoing things. A break might help. I could take the bears for a walk."

The suggestion found favour with Tumble, who had been sitting in a corner of the room. The bear lumbered to her feet and trotted to the sorcerer's side, stubby tail wagging. The big, hopeful eyes made Jemeryl's smile broaden. She reached out to scratch Tumble's head, causing the bear to growl softly with pleasure. However, now that she had abandoned all attempts to read, Jemeryl's sense of foreboding shuffled to the front of her mind. Something was about to go very seriously wrong.

Jemeryl left the chair and went to a nearby window, one that afforded good views over the valley. Everything seemed much as usual. Snow lay on the ground, though less thick than of late. Sheep dawdled across the fields tended by shepherds wrapped in layers of clothes. In the distance smoke rose from chimneys. Jemeryl leaned her head against the stonework of the window recess, and tried to call on all her training and talents to identify the threat.

"What do you think it is, Jem?" For once Klara was devoid of sarcasm.

"I don't know."

"Are you going to see Sergo?"

"She might know nothing. Perhaps an oracle would..." Jemeryl's words trailed away.

"You hate oracles." the magpie pointed out.

"True."

"You've said it yourself. They never give anything other than ambiguous hints that only make sense with hindsight."

Jemeryl stood, biting her lip and trying to pinpoint the centre of her anxiety. The harder she concentrated the less substantial her fears seemed, until there was nothing but a vague feeling of unease. She sighed and shook her head. "Perhaps I'm mistaken. I might just be picking up leakage from one of the crystal reservoirs in the hall."

"So what are you going to do?" Klara asked.

Jemeryl took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. "I'm going to pay Sergo a visit. Even if I'm imagining things it's about time I had a word with her."

Jemeryl hoped that making the decision would ease her tension, but, if anything, her agitation intensified as she left her study and stepped onto the high platform at the top of the stairs in the great hall.

Her living quarters occupied the small tower. They were rooms that had belonged to the captain, in the days when a garrison of soldiers had been stationed at the castle. The top floor was now divided equally between her study and her bedroom. The floor below held a larger room that had been the captain's audience chamber. Jemeryl had initially intended to use it for the same purpose. However, since nobody ever came to see her, it had become her private parlour, and was now cluttered with her personal belongings, including the outdoor clothes she would need for the ride to the village.

Jemeryl reached the lower landing and was about to open the door, when a noise made her spin around. Echoing around the great hall was the sound of a gong, beating softly from a long way away - a summons, and one Jemeryl recognised instantly. It set her leaping down the remaining steps and skidding to a stop in the centre of the hall. An image was intensifying before her, accompanied by faint hissings and rumblings. The figure was just identifiable as Iralin, Jemeryl's mentor in Lyremouth.

Klara landed on Jemeryl's shoulder. "A sending, from the Coven."

Jemeryl nodded her agreement.

While waiting for the figure to clarify, Jemeryl's mind worked furiously. A full sending of sound and vision over the many miles between them was an enormous undertaking, undoubtedly requiring the energies of several sorcerers. In practice, it would require less effort for Iralin to walk the entire distance on foot. It implied a desperate urgency that confirmed the morning's sense of grim foreboding.

Iralin's image was becoming firmer by the second. She was sitting in familiar surroundings, her study in the Coven, with Lyremouth harbour visible through the window behind. The books and charts lining the walls were unchanged since Jemeryl had last seen them, two years before.

Apparently, Iralin's view of Jemeryl was also improving. The senior sorcerer glared sternly in her direction. "What have you been doing?"

The last thing Jemeryl had expected was for the conversation to start with her own activities. The angry tone also threw her off balance. "Ma'am?"

"I said, what have you been doing?"

Jemeryl floundered for a suitable reply. "With regard to anything in particular?"

"Don't try being flippant. We've had reports about you, passed on by sorcerer Chenoweth in Rizen. They haven't been amusing."

"Are you sure there hasn't been some mistake, ma'am?"

The total bewilderment in Jemeryl's voice was evidently enough to prompt Iralin to try another approach. In slightly less accusatory tones she asked, "What have the villagers said to you recently?"

"I, um... haven't spoken to any of them for months."

"Why not?" Iralin snapped.

Jemeryl could think of no suitable words to say aloud, although dozens of unsuitable ones came to mind. She cursed herself for not paying more attention to the locals. Somewhere, something had got completely out of hand.

"You're supposed to be in charge of the valley, and look after its inhabitants. How do you do that without talking to them?" Iralin persisted.

"I assumed they'd come to me if they had any problems."

"You don't consider it your job to go to them?"

"They said they didn't want me to." Only as the words left her mouth did Jemeryl consider how they might sound.

There was a long silence, during which Jemeryl could hear her heart pounding and feel Klara's claws digging into her shoulder as the magpie mirrored her own tension.

At last, Iralin leaned back and steepled her fingers. "Why don't you tell me, in your own words, and starting at the beginning, how this situation has arisen between you and the people entrusted to your care?"

The emphasis on the last four words made Jemeryl flinch. "I'm not quite sure."

"Make some intelligent guesses." It was an order.

Jemeryl took a couple of deep breaths, trying to clear her thoughts before starting the account - not that it helped much. "Um... when I first came to the valley, they offered me a cottage in the village. I think it belonged to the previous witch. But it wasn't suitable and there was this abandoned castle, so I moved here instead... I explained to the reeve that I wanted to work on my research, and that it wouldn't be safe with lots of people around but I don't think she really understood. And then there was Dorin..."

Jemeryl's face brightened as an idea occurred to her. "Yes of course - Dorin. He'd be the source of anything you've heard. The villagers insisted I had someone to wait on me. I told them it wasn't necessary, but I think Dorin was the village simpleton and they just wanted an excuse to get him off their hands for a while. It was ridiculous. He couldn't cope here. The mere sound of Klara talking would terrify him. He only stayed a month, and I was better off without him. He spread some daft rumours back in the village. It's understandable. For the first time in his life people wanted to listen to what he had to say. I know he made up things - stories about me calling up the dead, turning people into frogs, even sacrificing babies to the full moon, for all I know."

"Do you think we'd pay any attention to stories like that?" Iralin said curtly.

I can't imagine what else you've got the arse-ache about. The words nearly escaped Jemeryl's lips. Fortunately, she managed to restrain herself and phrase it a bit more diplomatically. "Then I'm afraid I don't know what stories you have heard, ma'am."

"How about the stories concerning two children lured to your castle. The lucky one was in a coma when she left, the other was dead."

"They weren't my fault, ma'am - neither of them." Jemeryl said quickly.

"So why don't you tell me what happened?"

Jemeryl frowned - what had people been saying? And what version of events had got back to Lyremouth? But at least she now knew what Iralin was after. "The coma... that would be a teenage girl called Shiral. She came here after Dorin left, and I think she had some of his stupid stories stuck in her head. One day when I was out, she went poking through my things. I'd told her not to - perhaps that was the attraction. I kept everything really dangerous locked away, but she found an old shadow-mirror. I'm not sure what she saw in it, but we both know the visions can be nasty. The fright sent her into shock - it wasn't a real coma. I took Shiral back to her parents. I thought a home atmosphere would do her good while I helped her recover, but her parents wouldn't let me near her again. There was nothing else I could do for her."

"And the child who died?"

There was no way of avoiding the question, although it was an incident Jemeryl would rather not recall. It had caused her anguish at the time and still intruded into her nightmares. "About a year ago a man brought his daughter to the castle; she was only a toddler. She'd been hurt in an accident. I tried everything I knew but it was too late. Gangrene had set in and they'd left it too long before coming to me. I fought to save her life, I really did - a day earlier and I might have done it. I know her parents were upset and blamed me, but it was their fault. They should have brought her here sooner."

"Has it occurred to you, that if you'd performed your duties properly and gone out to talk to your citizens, you might have heard about the child's injury in time?" There was no compromise in Iralin's voice.

"They wouldn't talk to me. Even when I made the effort to see them, they hid things from me."

"They were frightened of you."

"I suppose so." Jemeryl conceded.

"Why?"

"I don't know."

"So - if you haven't been performing your duties, what have you been doing?" Iralin's voice could have cut through stone.

"I've been researching into overcharged ether currents, using them to induce force-fields as containers for elemental auras."

"That's a waste of time. It's been proved it can't work."

I've done it. Jemeryl was proud of her achievements, but now was not the time to boast.

Iralin's gaze shifted slightly as she caught sight of something moving in the hall. "Is that a bear behind you?"

Jemeryl glanced over her shoulder. Tumble had followed her down to the hall, but the bear had enough sense to hang well back. "Er... yes."

"You have bears in the castle?"

"Only two."

"Only!" Iralin said sarcastically.

"They are both fully entranced and safe. I've been alone up here - they're company." Jemeryl was completely on the defensive.

"You have bears roaming the castle and then wonder why the villagers are scared to come and see you - why the girl's parents left it too late before asking your help."

"The bears are quite harmless. To be more frightened of them than of gangrene is stupid."

"Looking after stupid people is part of the job you asked to do - the job you begged to be allowed to do."

"But..." Jemeryl began.

Iralin did not let her finish. "I was totally against you taking this appointment from the start. My objections were overruled, but I find I've been proved right. I doubted your motives in taking this post. I felt you lacked the necessary maturity and sensitivity to other people. In dealing with ungifted folk, you have always been arrogant and inconsiderate. You see the villagers as an interruption from your real interests. To you, they are just a distraction, but it is their lives we are talking about. They are simple, unimaginative, honest men and women, who are also loyal citizens of the Protectorate. If you were unable to feel responsible for them, you shouldn't have taken the job in the first place. You have disgraced the Coven. You have totally failed to perform the duties of your post, and failed due to lack of effort rather than inability."

Jemeryl was stunned by the accusation. Wilful failure to fulfil an appointment was the second worst offence a sorcerer could commit. Only breaking her oath of allegiance to the Coven would be judged worse. She attempted to defend herself. "I've tried my best to perform all my duties."

"Your duties consist of caring for these people. You have not cared for them. Instead, you have ignored them and frightened them away. You made no attempt to overcome your problems with them, you were happy to simply give up. When you realised you no longer enjoyed the confidence of the locals, you could have asked the Coven for assistance. We have considerable experience of young sorcerers alienating their charges. Apart from that, you could have monitored them without their knowledge. You have the ability to aid the villagers without being asked. But you didn't care. You have not shown a single trace of concern for their well-being."

Here at last was a charge she could refute. "I haven't just forgotten them. I set wards all around. I would have detected disease or anything dangerous entering the valley. Nothing serious could harm the villagers without my knowledge."

Iralin regarded her solemnly. "Then I take it you would be quite surprised to learn a basilisk had come to the valley?"

Jemeryl was speechless. At last, she said, "It can't have. There must be a mistake."

"There is no mistake."

"I'll go and..."

Again, Iralin interrupted. "You needn't bother, the basilisk has been taken care of. Even as we speak, a passing warrior has done your job for you and killed the creature."

Silence hung heavy in the room. Eventually, Jemeryl found her voice. "I am indebted to him."

"Her." Iralin corrected. "However she has paid for her bravery. She removed the head of the basilisk, but neglected to treat it with due caution. The beast was able to transmute her eyes to a crystal bridge. I take it you are willing and able to rectify that."

"Yes, of course. I'll go and find her at once." Jemeryl spoke in a half-daze.

"There's no need for that. She will come to you."

"Yes, ma'am."

"There is only one more thing."

"Ma'am?" What more could there be? Jemeryl fought to keep some semblance of composure. As a young student, she had been hauled up for her share of misdemeanours - juvenile pranks that had gone wrong and the like, but never had she been in trouble like this.

"The judgement of the Coven upon you." If Iralin's voice had been harsh before, now it was as cold as the grave. "Sorcerer Jemeryl, the Coven hereby imposes the following sentence upon you. You are removed from your post and a new task is allotted to you. It will be recorded that you failed to perform the appointment you accepted and the mark will stand against you until you prove yourself fit for some other work. Your new assignment is this. The aforementioned warrior is currently on a quest of great importance. You will accompany and assist her until the quest is completed or you die in the attempt."

Jemeryl was aghast "But my research? I have been achieving so much."

"Your so-called research is unendorsed and unapproved. There is nothing more to say. You will heal the warrior and leave the valley with her. You have twelve days to quit the castle. Is that clear? I would suggest you use the next few hours to get ready for your guest. This conversation is hereby terminated. Next time we speak, I trust the circumstances will be more favourable."

With that, the image slowly imploded on itself and vanished, leaving Jemeryl standing alone in the hall. She stared in horror at the point where the figure of her mentor had been. Her head was in turmoil, as she fought to absorb the implications of what had just happened to her life. The least of her worries was the curtailment of her current studies. The reprimand meant her reputation might be permanently sullied, destroying the hope of a research post in Lyremouth forever. As the full impact hit home, tears stung the backs of her eyes. Her mood shifted from shock to shame to anger. Jemeryl's hands clenched into fists, and she was overwhelmed by bitterness, at Iralin, at the villagers, and at the unknown fool of a warrior she was now bound to follow.

*****

Many miles away, Iralin slumped back in her chair, exhausted by the effort of maintaining the link. She raised one hand to her face and pinched the bridge of her nose between her forefingers. After a couple of deep breaths her arm dropped back to her lap and she looked at the other two sorcerers, a man and a woman, who had silently monitored the conversation from the other side of the room. Her eyebrows raised in a silent query.

"That was a bit heavy." The younger of the two said, but his tone implied a statement of fact rather than criticism.

Iralin took another breath and then snorted. "Conceited young puppy. She needed something to shake her. Everything I said was quite true and I wanted to be certain in my own mind that her behaviour was simply due to thoughtlessness."

"You surely didn't think Jemeryl had become a murderer?" the man exclaimed.

"Oh no, but she can be arrogant enough sometimes to think the rules don't apply to her. I wanted to know how far over the line she'd been stepping, and there wasn't the time for gently wheedling out the truth."

"I guess you know Jemeryl best, but I don't think I'd have been that hard on her. My own record at dealing with the ungifted isn't too good."

Iralin spoke firmly. "Jemeryl has to accompany this warrior and it's vital she applies herself to the task wholeheartedly. Given her low opinion of prophecy, I doubt she'd do that if I gave her the candid truth on the matter."

The third sorcerer had been staring out through the open window, her thoughts clearly pursuing some other line. She was older than the other two; sunlight etched deep shadows on her lined face. Yet, despite her frailty, she had an aura of authority that even Iralin could not match - a power that made it unnecessary to see the white amulet on her wrist to know she was the Guardian, the leader of the Coven.

At Iralin's words, the Guardian's lips twisted in an ironic pout. She spoke for the first time. "In Jemeryl's place I wouldn't take it very well either. She has to drop everything to go, gods know where, with some muscle-bound oaf, just because an extremely vague oracle said the future of the Coven probably depends on it."

There was a long silence as the three sorcerers sat in grim reflection. Iralin shook her head slowly, as if she was combating her disbelief at the situation. "I guess we're just incredibly lucky to have got the warning at all. When I received the report from Chenoweth, I was torn between ignoring it completely and writing to Jemeryl for an explanation. I only put it to the oracle on a whim, and that was the answer I got."

"The whims of sorcerers can be serious things." the Guardian said.

"Don't I know it." Iralin sighed. "Have we still got no better idea of what's involved? I know you were working on it all night."

"No. Poking around with fate is always asking for trouble. We've caused as much temporal disruption as we dared, probably more than was wise, and got virtually nothing from it. Our best attempts have produced no more information than you gave Jemeryl just now - a blind warrior, a basilisk and a quest." She shrugged. "Make what you will of it. We've had to give up and weave the neatest patch we could. Even so, Jemeryl will pick up the after-waves when she hits the critical moment."

"Jemeryl won't be pleased if she thinks we've been tampering with her fate." the male sorcerer said.

"That's one more reason why I wanted to give her a good kick in the right direction." Iralin answered him.

The expression on the Guardian's face hardened. "It's not just her fate, the whole Protectorate is at risk. It is my sworn responsibility, and I'm helpless. We just don't know enough. The oracle was the next best thing to useless."

Iralin nodded her agreement, and said dryly, "In fact a quote from Jemeryl herself comes to mind - Foretelling is great as a party trick, but you can't rely on it to tell you tomorrow's date."

Chapter 2: The Web of Fate

The preparations took Jemeryl all the rest of the morning. Even so, her expected patient had not arrived by the time she had finished. As the hours stretched into the afternoon, Jemeryl found herself checking and rechecking artefacts, pacing the hall and snapping irritably at the squirrels, although they were one thing Iralin had not picked out for criticism - presumably, even the villagers were not frightened of them.

Her actions were becoming more pointless by the minute. She swapped the positions of two bone talismans, considered the new arrangement for a second, and then swapped them back. She was reaching out a third time when irritation took over. Her hand clenched into a fist, which she thumped loudly on the tabletop.

Jemeryl marched the length of the great hall and out onto the porch. She glared at the castle gates, fighting the childish urge to blast them into flames. She was in enough trouble as it was - what would happen if she actually did something to justify the villagers' fear of her?

And where was the blinded warrior?

Jemeryl raked the fingers of both hands back through her hair in a gesture of frustration. What could she do? If she tried to scry the entire valley to locate the woman, she would be mentally exhausted before she even started to reconstruct the eyes. If she went out looking in a more conventional manner, she would probably miss the woman on the way. Iralin had been confident the warrior would come to the castle - presumably, the senior sorcerer had a reason for thinking this.

"It would've been nice if she'd shared the fucking information with me." Jemeryl gave vent to her feelings aloud.

Ruff whined in sympathy, although it was unclear whether it was for Jemeryl or himself. The bears had been avoiding her, clearly made nervous by her angry mood. Jemeryl glanced over her shoulder. Ruff was peering around the edge of the hall doorway, his dark, pathetic eyes fixed on her. The sight caused Jemeryl a twinge of guilt and her expression softened. Ruff was emboldened sufficiently to pad to her side and bat his head against her hand, wanting his ears rubbed.

"It's all right. I'm not angry at you. You're both good bears. I don't care what Iralin and the rest of them think." Jemeryl said with a sigh. It was not fair to blame the bears for her misfortune - there was no one to blame but herself.

Still the warrior did not come. Jemeryl left the bears happily digging into their lunch and climbed the stairs to the old barrack room, high in the keep. Once, a squad of soldiers had slept there, now it was a large empty room, with bare floorboards and unplastered walls. The only windows were arrow slits, set in wedge shaped alcoves in the thick walls. The openings were a couple of feet above floor level and had obviously been intended for kneeling, rather than standing, archers. They made good window seats - provided you could use magic to warm them.

Jemeryl clambered into the one commanding the best view of the path leading down to the village and curled up inside, bracing her knees against one slanting wall and a shoulder against the other. The narrow slit let her see a hundred or so yards of the path before it ended at the gatehouse. There was no sign of anyone, blinded or otherwise, approaching the castle.

With nothing else to occupy her mind, Jemeryl's thoughts kept returning to Iralin's tirade. To call it a severe reprimand was an understatement. Iralin had verbally ripped her apart. Jemeryl's face twisted in a pained grimace at the memory. Tears stung the backs of her eyes - Jemeryl was not sure whether they were due to anger, humiliation or disappointment, and she did not want to poke around at her emotions to find out.

The relationship between Iralin and herself had never been warm, but Jemeryl had believed it to be marked by respect on both sides. Several times, during her training in Lyremouth, Jemeryl had been tempted to request a change in mentor. However, Iralin was third in seniority in the Coven and Jemeryl was keenly aware of the honour of being chosen as her personal apprentice. She knew Iralin had taught her more than anyone else could have done. Their talents and personalities were very similar - and therein lay the source of much of the friction between them.

Had she really been behaving irresponsibly? In all honesty Jemeryl had to admit Iralin's words held an element of truth, but she could not see that she had so wilfully negligent as to deserve all that was said, or the final judgement. It felt as if Iralin had deliberately skewed the facts to make a justification for her conclusions - as if the outcome had been determined before the start.

Jemeryl was still brooding bitterly when Klara flew in and landed on her hip. The magpie's bead-like eyes fixed her with a piercing stare. There was no need for Klara to report her findings aloud. Jemeryl already knew what she had discovered on her circuit of the valley - six of the protective ward-charms, broken and scattered.

"Someone's been deliberately wreaking them." Klara said.

"But who, and why?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes it does. Why break the wards and let the basilisk in? Was someone deliberately trying to harm the villagers? Or was it just a game by someone who was too stupid to see what they were?"

"I wouldn't bother trying to make sense of it. You can't hope to understand the ungifted. They've got less sense than the squirrels."

Jemeryl thumped her fist on the stone. "How could I have been so careless?"

"You couldn't have predicted it." Klara said.

"I shouldn't have relied the wards - it's the sort of mistake novice witches make. I should have gone down to the village every day and made certain I knew what was going on. I've walked into this like an idiot, and there's more to come, I can feel it."

Klara tilted her head to one side. "I think you should try to calm down a little, otherwise you'll be in no state to heal the warrior when she finally decides to show up."

Jemeryl sighed and closed her eyes, then opened them again. A small pile of broken nutshells, left by one of the squirrels, littered the ledge. Jemeryl arranged them into a neat row, then irritably swept them out of the window. The thought of the warrior had brought a fresh set of worries.

"Who goes hunting basilisks without even the most basic knowledge of the risks involved?"

"A fool?" Klara suggested.

"She must be. I've got to go with her - and no idea for how long. If Iralin knew anything, she didn't let on. It could be months, even years."

"Following a brainless, sword-swinging lout." Klara's words were not comforting

"You're coming too. Iralin didn't forbid it and I think I'll need a friendly beak to turn to." Jemeryl stated, although this was a trap in itself, as she was well aware. The magpie was a fully-locked familiar, giving only the appearance of independence. In a very real sense Jemeryl was talking to herself. It was a bad habit she had fallen into; even sorcerers could suffer from loneliness.

The bell hanging outside the gatehouse rang loudly. Jemeryl jumped - while talking to Klara she had forgotten her watch on the gates. She twisted her neck to peer through the narrow window. The intervening castle walls prevented her seeing whoever had rung the bell, but the harsh clanging had not stopped reverberating before two of the villagers raced out from cover and fled away down the hillside.

"Have they left the warrior outside?" Jemeryl wondered aloud.

"Either that or they've become totally infantile and are playing knock and run." Klara suggested.

Tumble lumbered across the cobbles in the courtyard below. With her teeth, she caught hold of the rope hanging on the inside of the gate and pulled it open. Jemeryl heard the grinding of the hinges and the clatter of hooves, and then a pony trotted into view. The saddle was empty, although the pack on its back bristled with assorted weaponry. Someone on foot was almost completely hidden from view on the far side. The sight of the weapons reminded Jemeryl that Iralin had said warrior, not scout or even assassin - it did not bode well for the woman's intelligence.

Jemeryl glanced at Klara. "I guess I'm going to need you to talk to, after all. Her conversation skills are probably very limited."

The pony came to a standstill between the trees. A two-handed war-axe protruded prominently from behind the saddle. "An axe-woman!" Without waiting to see more, Jemeryl twisted round and scrambled out of the window alcove.

Klara fluttered over to take her place on Jemeryl's shoulder. "Limited conversation my foot. She's probably still at the grunt and point stage."

Jemeryl braced herself for the worst. She cast a last muttered obscenity at Iralin, and strode to the spiral staircase. With each step Jemeryl's feeling of anxiety grew - not about healing the warrior's eyes, she had no doubt of her own ability, but at the sense that she was being pushed into something irrevocable. She was quite certain that far more was at stake than Iralin had implied.

By the time Jemeryl reached the keep's exit the scene in the courtyard was approaching utter chaos. Tumble had wandered over to make friends and the pony had fled in panic. It was now clattering around by the kitchen door, threatening to kick over the water butt. The bear was trying to lick the warrior's hand and even Jemeryl would accept that the gesture was likely to be misunderstood. Some squirrels were bouncing around the woman's feet, excited by the novelty, while several of the eldest sat on a branch above her head, chattering a noisy welcome. And still, Jemeryl could not get a good look at her visitor - in retreating from Tumble the woman had turned her back to the keep and was partially obscured behind a tree.

Re-establishing order was a good starting point. Jemeryl pulled all the animals under her control and commanded them to back off and keep quiet. Peace descended on the courtyard. In the resulting silence, Jemeryl crossed the drawbridge, and descended the stairs. At the bottom, she turned for her first clear view of the warrior.

The future crashed into the past. Time was ripped open. Jemeryl recoiled in shock, with no sense of when she was. There was a gaping hole in the web of fate, inviting her to see things she had no wish to know. She felt herself sucked in, while forever spun around her. On her shoulder Klara screeched in terror, a cry more awful than anything Jemeryl had ever heard from her familiar.

The sound pulled Jemeryl back to the courtyard - to here and now. She hurled out every block on prophecy that she knew, and forced the future out of her head. For a space, fate still rippled in the courtyard, distorting Jemeryl's sense of time, in the same way heat above a fire would distort vision. Gradually, the seconds resumed their steady march, each one following the last.

Jemeryl stood with her eyes closed, recovering her senses. This was the meeting that had overshadowed her all morning, she realised, not the confrontation with Iralin. It was also a meeting that had not been allowed to run its own course. Someone had been tampering with fate - not merely casting oracles, but trying to affect the outcome of events, and it took little to guess who that someone was. Iralin and the Coven were playing games.

Why couldn't they trust me with the truth? Jemeryl thought in fury. Instead, they just left me to walk into that bodged mess. However, there was nothing she could do. Iralin had effectively tied her hands. She was going to have to bite back her anger and get on with the task before her.

Jemeryl opened her eyes and again looked at her visitor. This time there was no upheaval and she was able to make an evaluation. The results were a little surprising. The woman was both younger and smaller than Jemeryl had expected - scarcely older than herself and only four or so inches taller. She was of medium build with short dark hair. Over her eyes was a crude, wet bandage. The backs of her hands bore the red and gold tattoos of the guild of mercenaries. Her clothes were covered in blood, which to judge from its colour and quantity, had belonged to the basilisk. She was clearly confused, frightened and in pain, but making a desperate attempt to hide it all.

Feeling a fair degree of confusion herself, Jemeryl forced her feet to continue walking. The warrior turned to face the sound of approaching steps.

"Please. I need your help."

"I know. I've been expecting you."

Jemeryl continued to study the woman, while trying to calm the turmoil due to the after-effects of time-shock. In particular, her emotions were lurching off in a quite unexpected direction. Jemeryl had anticipated feeling dislike, even contempt, for the warrior. There had been the temptation to hold her partially responsible for the turn of events. However, the young woman in front of her, vulnerable and suffering, could only inspire pity. She was even more a victim than Jemeryl herself, and in a far worse state. How much was her condition due to Iralin's tampering? Jemeryl directed a fresh blast of anger towards her mentor - this time on behalf of the blinded warrior.

Jemeryl spoke, more gently than before. "Come with me and I'll see what I can do."

The woman flinched at Jemeryl's touch. For a moment, it seemed as if she might give way to panic and bolt - or would, if she could see where to run, but then she meekly allowed herself to be led towards the great hall.

Just before they entered the building, Jemeryl caused the harness on the pony to loosen. The pack slipped to the ground for the bears to take care of. The pony was sent to the stables. Everything else could wait until the matter of the eyes was resolved.

The woman collapsed rather than sat on the chair Jemeryl led her to. Her breath came in ragged gasps. Her hands griped the armrests so tightly her knuckles were white.

Jemeryl put a hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry, you're going to be fine."

"Can you help me?"

"Yes I can, and I will. My name's Jemeryl, I'm the Coven sorcerer for these parts. You've got nothing to be frightened of."

"My name's Tevi... A basilisk, it..."

"It's alright, I know." Jemeryl took a deep breath and released the warrior's shoulder. It was time to start work. In business-like tones she said, "Okay Tevi, I'm going to remove the bandage and examine your eyes."

The clumsy knot took only a few seconds to untie. The material was wet and very cold to Jemeryl's fingers - someone's attempt at an ice pack. She swore under her breath. It felt as if everything was stacked against her. Did the villagers really know nothing about basilisks? The chilling would have reduced the flow of blood, compounding the damage to the eye socket. The surrounding tissue must be unharmed if the reconstruction of Tevi's eyes was to be a complete success.

Despite her fresh worries, Jemeryl tried to make her voice as reassuring as possible. "Now Tevi, I'm going to examine your eyes. I'm afraid you need to be conscious so I can test the reactions of the nerves and muscles. It will be unpleasant, but it won't take long. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Can you open your eyes?"

The prospects were poor if the twin effects of transmutation and ice had caused too much damage for Tevi to do this. To Jemeryl's relief, the eyelids quivered open. The surfaces underneath shone like polished glass. Any ordinary, ungifted, person would have found the sight unsettling. It was far more shocking for Jemeryl, who could see the eyes for what they were - a crystal bridge. They were hideous twin drains in Tevi's aura, through which her life's energy could be sucked away.

Jemeryl raised her hands to Tevi's face, and placed her fingertips on forehead, temples and cheeks in a circle. With her extended sense, she could feel the coursing of blood through veins, the faint electric messages in the nerves, and the taunt elasticity of membrane. Unfortunately, it was impossible to numb Tevi to the pain without blocking the very responses Jemeryl needed to examine. Jemeryl mentally probed the tissue as carefully as she could; yet still she heard Tevi whimper.

Soon Jemeryl let her hands drop and sat back, more than satisfied with what she had learned. There was no damage to the eye sockets, although it would have been far less painful for Tevi had this not been the case. The active nerve ends must be causing her agony. Jemeryl looked at her patient with respect, surprised she was able to walk and talk at all. At least it was now possible to do something about the pain. A goblet stood on a nearby bench, with a sleeping draft ready prepared.

Tevi was slumped forward, her shoulders shaking as she took sharp gasps of air. Jemeryl gently coaxed her to sit upright and placed the goblet in her hands. "There's a lot of work to do, but I'm sure you'll be pleased to know you don't have to be aware of it. If you drink this you'll be able to sleep through the entire process."

"Can you stop it hurting?" Tevi's voice was a raw whisper. The pulse in her neck beat rapidly.

"I can do more than that. I can restore your eyesight. I can't guarantee it will be like before, but it should be good enough for you to continue with your profession."

The goblet was almost at Tevi's lips when she hesitated. Mistrust showed on her face, but then she resolutely downed the contents.

"It will be easiest if you're lying down, so if you could come over here..." Jemeryl took Tevi's hand once more and guided her to the table. "You'll be asleep soon and won't know anything more until tomorrow morning. When I've finished working on your eyes, I'll put a bandage around them. You mustn't try to remove it, even if you feel fine. Your eyes will be extremely sensitive to light. If you expose them before they've had a chance to heal you may cause fresh damage."

Tevi lay on the table, with a cushion under her head. "I won't touch it." Her voice was already starting to sound drowsy.

"Next thing. I'll try to be around when you wake up. If I'm not, you can say my name aloud anywhere in the castle and I'll hear. My name is Jemeryl - will you remember that?"

Tevi nodded and mumbled. "Jem'r."

There were a few final preparations to make. Tevi was deeply asleep by the time Jemeryl had finished. The expression of pain had faded from the warrior's face. Without the grimace and the bandage she looked even younger than the first estimate, probably even a couple years short of Jemeryl's own count of twenty-two. Her body was athletic, but certainly not muscle-bound. Where did she find the strength to swing an axe effectively? Jemeryl wondered, and how did one so inexperienced manage to kill a basilisk? The questions would have to wait. Jemeryl had a long afternoon's work ahead of her.

"Oh... Keovan's knickers! I forgot to ask what colour she wanted her eyes to be." Jemeryl paused. "I guess it's down to my own preference." She studied Tevi's face for a few seconds and smiled. "Grey." she announced decisively.

*****

It was dark by the time Jemeryl finished. The job had taken her longer and presented more problems than expected; now she was totally worn out. She was just about able to haul Tevi from the table and lay her on Ruff's back. It took a similar strained effort to stop the unconscious woman slipping off while the bear shuffled up the short flight of stairs to the parlour.

There was a small side chamber that Jemeryl had set as a bedroom, back in the days when she had expected to be called on regularly to nurse sick villagers. Tevi would be only the second person to occupy the room. As she rolled Tevi onto the bed Jemeryl pushed away the memories of the other patient, the young girl dying of gangrene.

She tugged off Tevi's boots and outer clothing then pulled up the blankets and stood back. Waves of tiredness swept over Jemeryl. Her hands were shaking with exhaustion. Lank strands of hair stuck to the sweat on her forehead.

Klara flew in and perched on the bedstead. "Finished already?"

"Just about. I want you to stand watch. Call me if Tevi wakes. If she doesn't, let me sleep through."

"Why do I get all the boring jobs?" Klara moaned.

"Because I'm the one who can open the food cupboard."

Jemeryl turned to leave. At the door she paused, intending only a last backward glance. Instead she stopped, overwhelmed by the change in her life the day had brought. What was so important about her meeting with Tevi? She studied her patient. Tevi's face was relaxed and at peace. A clean white bandage was over her eyes. Dark hair fell over the top of it and the tip of her nose stuck out below. Her lips had fallen slightly open. Her cheeks were smooth and slightly flushed in sleep.

An assortment of vague ideas scrambled their way through Jemeryl's mind. None of them were clear enough to be identified, except for an awareness that she had been celibate since her arrival in the valley, over two years before. Jemeryl laughed softly at herself and shook her head.

She looked at Klara. "It's amazing the funny ideas you get when you're tired."

"You never needed tiredness as an excuse before."

"Impudent bird." With that, Jemeryl pulled the door shut and headed to her own bed.

*****

Tevi awoke from a series of troubled dreams. Her first thought was that the night was not over, since it was still too dark to see. Then memories disentangled themselves from the fragments of dreams. Her hand shot to her face. She touched the bandage and, with the feel of the material, came the sudden realisation that her eyes no longer hurt.

Tevi's hand fell back to the bed covers. Her joyful relief was short-lived. From the foot of her bed came a faint sound - like something rustling in the wind, except there were no air currents in the room. It was something moving.

Tevi's memories continued to drop back into place. She was in the sorcerer's castle, alone and sightless. There had been non-human things in the courtyard. The villagers' stories suddenly seemed a lot more credible. Tevi felt a childish urge to hide - an urge all the more inane since her only current options were under either the bedcovers or the bed. Neither were likely to be in the least effective if the sorcerer, or anything else in the castle, meant her harm. Tevi fought back her panic. What was it at the foot of the bed?

A new set of sounds came from the other side of a wall. Tevi's entire concentration focused on her ears. Something was moving around in an adjoining room, and getting closer. The noises stopped, then a handle rattled, and what had to be the door to her room opened.

Tevi jerked up onto one elbow, facing the sound. "Who's there?"

"It's me, Jemeryl. Are you all right?"

Tevi fell back onto the bed, feeling simultaneously frightened and stupid. "Yes... yes I think so."

"Do your eyes still hurt?"

"No. They feel fine." Tevi took a grip on herself. The sorcerer had kept her word so far. She had taken away the unbearable pain. The very least Tevi owed her was the benefit of the doubt.

The bed moved as if Jemeryl had taken a seat on the edge. Tevi pulled herself into an upright sitting position.

"Any other aches and pains?" Jemeryl asked gently.

"I don't think so."

"Did you sleep well?"

"Er... I must have." Tevi did not feel completely certain about anything.

"Then can I interest you in breakfast?"

"Oh yes." This was the easiest question so far. Tevi had not eaten since the bowl of porridge in Sergo's cottage the previous morning.

"The villagers leave supplies for me on a regular basis. I think I can offer bread and honey, maybe slices of ham, cheese. How does that sound?"

"Fine."

"There's a bowl of water and a towel on the table beside your bed. I'm afraid I was too tired to clean you up last night. If you want, I'll help you wash when I get back." Jemeryl offered.

Tevi shook her head. "I can probably manage on my own."

"Right, I'll go and get breakfast."

With her fears easing, Tevi's body was able to attract her attention. Jemeryl must have noticed the resulting expression of concern on Tevi's face.

"There's something else you want before I go?"

"Um... a latrine?" Tevi asked, slightly sheepishly.

"Oh, of course." Jemeryl took Tevi's hand and helped her out of bed. "There are latrines built into the wall of this tower where it overhangs the cliff face. The entrance to one is in the corner of your room. I'll show you. It's primitive but functional - just a seat with a hole over a hundred foot sheer drop. If you suffer from vertigo it would be a good idea not to look too closely, once your bandage is removed." Jemeryl paused for a second. "However in spring and summer the cliffs below are covered with nesting birds. I sometimes think the latrines were the architect's idea of revenge."

Tevi laughed out loud for the first time since leaving the guildhall at Lyremouth. There were a few seagulls on Storenseg she had a score to settle with, although they were unlikely to be so far from home.

Jemeryl let go of Tevi's hand. "There's not much furniture in the room. If you go carefully, you shouldn't bang into anything. Your saddle-pack is under the table. If you're alright on your own I'll see about breakfast."

"I'll manage." Tevi said confidently. It was only after the door to the room closed that she remembered the thing she had heard moving at the end of the bed. What was it? And was it still there? Tevi took a deep breath. She was being stupid. Nothing bad had happened so far; the sorcerer seemed friendly and, even if she weren't, acting like a coward would not help the situation.

Working by touch, Tevi was able to take care of herself, including finding a clean shirt from her pack. By the time Jemeryl returned, she was back in her bed, feeling clean and in possession of slightly more self-control. It lasted less than a second. Almost immediately after she heard the door open, something small leapt onto the bed. A tiny clawed hand touched hers.

"What is it?" Tevi fought to keep the panic from her voice.

"It's just a squirrel."

"A squirrel!"

"Most likely after your breakfast. It won't like the honey or the ham, but squirrels are incurable optimists."

"A squirrel?" Tevi was having trouble with the idea. Given the circumstances, an imp or a huge spider would have been far less surprising. While she was coming to terms with the idea, a plate was pressed into her hands. The weight of the small creature was lifted from Tevi' lap and deposited by her feet - not that it stayed there for long.

"Yes, I'm afraid the castle is a little overrun with them." Jemeryl voice sounded rueful.

"Aren't they supposed to be hibernating?"

"They should be, but it's warm in the castle and I feed them, so mostly they choose to stay awake."

"They're tame?"

"Lightly entranced. I can make it go if you want." Jemeryl offered.

"It's alright." Partly to confirm the truth, Tevi cautiously put out a hand and stroked the squirrel. She could feel that it was perched on its back legs and peering about the room, unconcerned by the attention it was receiving from the two women. "Was it squirrels I heard outside in the courtyard yesterday?"

"In part. Tumble was also contributing to your rather riotous welcome." Jemeryl hesitated, as if considering her words. "Ruff and Tumble are bears... quite large bears. I'll try to keep them away from you, but you needn't be frightened of them. They really are completely safe. Tumble just wanted to make friends with you."

Obviously, some of the villagers' stories were based in fact. Tevi concentrated on eating while she turned ideas over in her head, hoping Jemeryl would put her silence down to hunger. Although the sorcerer had been pleasant, it might all be part of a less altruistic plan. Subconsciously reflecting her doubts, Tevi's hand rose to the bandage over her eyes, wondering if she could trust Jemeryl's word that they really were cured.

"Stop that." Jemeryl said sharply.

Tevi flinched. "Pardon?"

"I'm sorry, not you, the squirrel. It's eyeing up your bread. It's realised you can't see."

"Oh, well... if it wants some, there's more here than I need."

"Best not to encourage them, or they'll be stealing dinner from under our noses." Jemeryl sounded exasperated, but amused. "Here, I have some acorns in my pocket. If I put a few on the floor that ought to distract it while we finish eating - unless it decides to try its hand at making a nut sandwich."

Again, Tevi found herself laughing. The thought of a Coven sorcerer with pockets full of squirrel bribes did not fit in with the evil necromancer of the stories.

"The villagers... they told me a bit about you." Tevi began.

"I'm sure they did." Jemeryl replied dryly.

"You don't seem quite like I expected."

"You mean I haven't fed you to my pet dragon?"

"Er..." Tevi wondered if she should have kept quiet.

"There's a simple explanation - it's not hungry yet."

Tevi could tell Jemeryl was joking, but there was an edge to her voice. The sorcerer was very serious about something. Uncertainly Tevi asked, "Do you have a dragon?"

"No, of course not - but I've got a mentor who could give real dragons nightmares." The second part was muttered under Jemeryl's breath so quietly Tevi was not sure if she had misheard.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound as if..." Tevi's words trailed off.

Jemeryl sighed. When she spoke her voice was completely serious. "It's all right. I'm aware the villagers don't trust me. In a large part that has to be my fault, but half of what they say about me is distorted, and the other half is completely untrue."

There were repressed undercurrents to Jemeryl's voice. There was a lot that was not being said - there was also unmistakable sincerity and genuine distress. Tevi realised that she trusted the sorcerer far more than the villager's stories - or would until the evidence of her own experience persuaded her otherwise.

Before she could think of a suitable response, a large yawn caught her by surprise. "I can't still be tired."

"You probably are." Jemeryl said. "It's a side effect of the magic. Having your eyes turned to crystal and back can take a lot out of you. Sleep might be a good idea."

After a moment's deliberation, Tevi slid down under the blankets. The squirrel hopped back onto the bed and snuggled up against her, nestling into the curve of her arm. There was something very reassuring about the small, warm, furry body. The last of Tevi's fears dissolved as a fresh wave of sleepiness washed over her. She was only vaguely aware of the sound of the door closing as the sorcerer left the room

*****

It was not only Tevi who was in need of rest, Jemeryl also felt drained by the previous day's events. She spent the rest of the morning dozing by the fire in the parlour, sprawled in a battered old armchair, while keeping one eye on the door to Tevi's room.

The blazing fire was purely for effect. Jemeryl did not need it to keep the room warm, but its light played cheerfully on the furnishings and the eclectic range of books, presents and curios littering every horizontal surface. Jemeryl was by nature tidy in everything except her personal appearance. Somehow, the room had gained a life of its own, mostly due to the squirrels, who hated to leave anything where they found it. Any pretence at a formal reception room had vanished long ago. The parlour was now cluttered, comfy, and far less imposing than most citizens would ever imagine a sorcerer's home to be.

Jemeryl's gaze drifted over the treasured items scattered about the room. They held memories of the many nights she had spent there, reading in front of the fire and making plans for the future. So much for planning, she thought ironically. Even without the intervention of the Coven the meeting with Tevi would have been a life-changing event. All her training told her it had been a node in the web of fate. But why? Jemeryl's eyes fixed on the door to Tevi's room. Was it to do with the quest, or the woman herself?

Jemeryl was aware that a soft grin was growing on her face as she thought of the warrior, and recalled the sight of Tevi snuggling down to sleep, with the squirrel curled up at her side. And if I didn't know better I'd swear I was envying that squirrel. Jemeryl shook her head in self-mockery. One step at a time my girl, and remember your career depends on this; you can't afford to make mistakes. Iralin's aggressive meddling had made one big difference to the situation. Not only were the stakes raised, but also Jemeryl's options had been limited. If she was ever to achieve her ambitions within the Coven, she was going to have to start by fitting in with Iralin's schemes.

Klara had been asleep on the back of the chair, tired after her nightlong vigil. At this point, she awoke and hopped down onto Jemeryl's wrist. "Have I missed anything exciting?"

"No." Jemeryl yawned as she replied.

"How's the patient."

"Sleeping."

Klara looked towards the door to Tevi's room. "She doesn't seem too bad. Far better housetrained than you expect for a woman warrior, and I'm sure I heard her attempt a few polysyllabic words."

"Oh, I don't think she's stupid."

"Except when it comes to basilisks."

"We all make mistakes." Jemeryl said and then groaned. "I know I have."

"So how do you feel now about having to go on this quest with her?"

"I'd rather not."

"But you're quite happy to have Tevi as company?" Klara's voice was deliberately innocent.

Jemeryl gave her familiar a long cynical stare. She knew exactly what Klara was implying. "I don't have a problem with Tevi - it's Iralin and the rest of the Coven seniors I want to incinerate. They're playing silly games. If they want to involve me, I wished they'd explain the rules first. Why couldn't Iralin simply tell me what was going on, rather than treating me like a football?"

"Maybe it's because she's a rotten, mean, nasty individual."

Despite Klara's attempt at levity, Jemeryl did not smile. "The attack of foresight when I first saw Tevi is the worrying bit. The Coven seniors have been poking about with fate - and not just casting oracles. You don't get a rupture in time like that from merely asking questions."

"What do you think they were after?"

"I'd say they were trying to affect the outcome of events triggered by my meeting with Tevi. As for why..." Jemeryl finished her sentence with a shrug. "They certainly left an ugly patch job behind."

"I noticed." Klara's tone made feelings plain.

Jemeryl stroked the magpie's head. "You saw something in there that really upset you."

Klara said nothing - Jemeryl did not want her to. She was determined to resist the temptation to probe the magpie's memory. Klara had screamed in terror at something seen when they blundered, unprepared and off-guard, into the ragged temporal discontinuity. More than just Jemeryl's core dislike of prophecy stopped her from trying to find out what it was.

There was a fable, probably apocryphal, told to all young sorcerers. It concerned two brothers who went to consult the oracle at Kradja. They had only one question to ask, "Where will we die?", and intended never to visit the place named. The oracle had replied, "In Kradja". Both brothers immediately attempted to flee the town. In his blind panic the brother in the lead slipped on the temple steps and broke his neck. The other saw the accident and stopped, realising the futility of escape. He settled in Kradja, took a partner, made his life there and prospered. He died there decades later, after a long and successful life, surrounded by friends and family.

The events probably never happened, but the moral was very sound. No matter what fate may dictate, the greatest chance of tragedy lay in trying to evade it. Klara had seen something bad. If it was truly inevitable, there was no point in trying to prevent it from happening. Jemeryl's expression was solemn as she recalled the old fable. Iralin herself was the one who had told the story to her, many years ago, when Jemeryl was a fresh novice at Lyremouth. If the senior sorcerers were trying to rewrite destiny it meant something very, very important was involved.

"So why not tell me what they're up to? Do they think I'll work better if I don't know what I'm doing?" Jemeryl glared into the fire, feeling like a pawn in a chess game. "I never did trust oracles. I bet they've had some vague prediction and are even more confused than me."

Klara bobbed her head in agreement, then tilted it to one side. "But it could be worse. As I said earlier, Tevi doesn't seem to be too bad, does she?"

Jemeryl's anger faded as a slow smile crossed her face. "No, she doesn't seem too bad at all."

Chapter 3: Old Legends

Jemeryl was still in her chair in the mid-afternoon. It was definitely a day for being lazy. The two bears were asleep at her feet; she was using Ruff's ribs as a footstool. Klara was perched on the armrest, and together they indulged in idle speculation about the possible nature of the quest.

"She might have to kill a monster." Klara suggested.

Jemeryl pursed her lips. "More likely has to find something."

"Such as?"

"It would have to be important."

"Obviously - Iralin's hardly likely to think Tevi needs you along if she's just popped out to get a couple of cabbages." Klara exercised her taste for irony.

"It could be some person she's looking for."

The sound of a door opening interrupted the debate. Sorcerer and magpie simultaneously turned towards the source. Tevi stood in the entrance to her room, twisting her head from side to side. The low, winter sun was falling square on the window behind her. It's rays streamed out around Tevi, lighting her in silhouette.

"Madam Jemeryl?" Tevi said dubiously, as if afraid of what else might answer her call.

"I'm here." Jemeryl answered immediately.

Jemeryl studied her guest for a moment longer, before rising to guide her to a chair by the fire. The young squirrel bounced up onto the warrior's lap as soon as she was seated, evidently feeling it had made a true friend. It never seemed to occur to any of the squirrels that they might not be wanted. Tevi, on the other hand, although looking much better for the sleep, was clearly not at ease. She sat with her back stiff and straight, while shifting uncomfortably in the chair.

"I am very grateful for your help, ma'am. I hope I haven't ..." Tevi had obviously taken time to reflect on the high status of Coven sorcerers.

Jemeryl interrupted. "There's no need to thank me. In fact, you could argue that it's my fault you were hurt in the first place. And please, forget the ma'am bit. Jemeryl will be fine, or you can called me Jem - most of my friends do."

"While her enemies call her much more interesting things." Klara added.

At the inhuman sound of the magpie's voice, Tevi jerked around. Her hands tightened on the arms of the chair. "What is that?"

"Just an impertinent magpie." Jemeryl said.

"It talks?"

"As you just heard."

"I'm sorry." Tevi slumped down in her chair. "It was a silly question."

"She's a silly magpie. And, although you can't see it, she's giving us a rather indignant look at the moment."

Tevi managed a crooked smile. "I guess even magpies don't like being called silly."

"Especially magpies. Her name's Klara. She's quite safe, as long as you can cope with sarcasm."

Klara turned her back on the pair of humans in disgust.

Tevi swallowed and then said, "So you have squirrels and magpies... and bears?"

"Just the one magpie. One is more than enough, believe me. The bears are asleep in front of the fire. If you want I'll send them away." Jemeryl offered, remembering Iralin's words about ordinary people's fears.

Tevi's expression battled between uncertainty and self-control. In the end she said, "It would be mean to kick them out in the cold, when they're doing no harm."

"They aren't dangerous." Jemeryl stressed.

"I know, you said that before. I'm being childish. It's just..." Tevi hesitated, summoning her nerve. "I think it's not being able to see them. Things are always worse in your imagination. Would it be all right if I touched them?"

"If you want. They won't bite."

Jemeryl's mental prompting roused Tumble from her sleep. The bear rose with a snort and then shuffled the few steps to lay her chin on Tevi's knees. Cautiously Tevi patted the furry head, growing more confident as Tumble lapped up the attention. Her expression turned to a broad grin as Tumble licked her hands. Ruff also awoke and went to claim his share of the fuss.

"They're like a pair of great soppy dogs." Tevi exclaimed in amused surprise.

"I know." Jemeryl agreed. "It wasn't quite the effect I was aiming for, but that's how it goes when you enchant animals. Their own nature tends to skew the magic."

Jemeryl settled back in her chair, and rested her head on one hand. Tevi was almost completely lost behind the two bears. Only her head and shoulders were visible above their shaggy rumps. Light from the fire played over her face, highlighting the line of her chin and throwing soft shadows at her throat.

One advantage of the bandage over Tevi's eyes was that Jemeryl could study her guest without inhibition. She found it a very pleasant occupation. Not bad at all, she repeated to herself, but it would not do to sit there all afternoon, and stare. After a few minutes she got to her feet and said, "Now that you're awake I'll see about a late lunch. Do you want me to take the bears with me?"

"I'll be fine, or do you need them to help you?"

"Oh no, their paws aren't up to doing anything worthwhile in the kitchen. The squirrels would be more use, but they will insist on putting nuts in everything - it wouldn't be so bad if they remembered to shell them first."

Jemeryl left the room to the sound of Tevi's laughter.

*****

Once the meal was over, Jemeryl gave Tevi a tour of the sections of the castle she might need to use. They went slowly, to let Tevi feel her way, so she could build a mental image of the layout. In particular Jemeryl pointed out the location of stairs and similar hazards. They stayed awhile in the stables when they got there, and made sure Tevi's pony had everything it needed.

On their return to the parlour, the two women reclaimed their seats by the fire. Tevi told the story of the hunt for the basilisk. As the account progressed, Jemeryl's horror grew. She was appalled to realise how little Tevi had known of her quarry.

"A small shield was all the protection you had? That was suicidal."

"I held it in front of my face so the basilisk couldn't see into my eyes." Tevi explained.

"But the crystal bridge works in the sixth dimension. It can only have been pure good fortune it worked." Jemeryl stopped, lost for words. "How big was it?"

"The shield or the basilisk?"

"The basilisk."

Tevi indicated with her hands.

"Well that partly explains it. It was only a juvenile, probably inexperienced."

"I thought I'd done quite well. Except for the bit at the end, of course." Tevi said, slightly deflated.

"You did. But you should have come to me. I could have given you proper shields, in fact I'd have dealt with the beast myself."

"The villagers were against telling you."

"Why?" Jemeryl asked, confused.

"Some of them thought the basilisk was yours - that you had called it to the valley for some reason."

"They thought..." Jemeryl stared at her guest, lost for words. It was small wonder bad reports had reached Lyremouth. How could the level of trust in her have sunk so low?

"Wasn't that what you meant, when you said it was your fault I got hurt?" Tevi asked hesitantly.

"No!" Jemeryl was at the point of outrage. "I would never have done anything to risk harming the villagers. I'm sworn by my oath to defend them, with my life if need be. They must know that - what's got into their heads?"

Tevi looked awkward. "I'm not sure they think very clearly. They seemed a bit gullible."

Jemeryl groaned, "And that's my fault as well. It's a side-effect of the wards I put up."

"Wards?"

"I put wards around the valley to keep out danger. Someone destroyed them and that's what let the basilisk in. When I said it was my fault, all I meant was that I should have talked to the villagers more often, and not relied on the wards. But I never dreamed someone would deliberately wreck them. It makes no sense."

Tevi looked as if she might have said something, but held her peace.

"The thing could have killed someone - but the villagers were more frightened of me than the basilisk." Jemeryl was speaking mainly to herself.

"Perhaps when the villagers hear that you've healed my eyes it will give them some faith in you - if you're sure I will see again."

"Your eyes will be fine." Jemeryl said quickly.

"I didn't mean to imply..." Tevi's words tailed off and there was silence for a while, before she went on again, "I just don't understand what happened to them, and why I wasn't turned to stone."

Jemeryl sighed and then shook her head. Cursing yourself for past mistakes was pointless. She redirected her thoughts to providing a suitable explanation for Tevi. "The basilisk feeds directly on energy. It doesn't really turn its victims to stone. It's like a form of burning. It takes the energy out and leaves ash behind, fused into place. In order to get the energy it has to create a bridge in the sixth dimension - which is the easiest place to work with elemental forces. Its third eye is a receiver, which it uses to change the eyes of its prey to a transmitter." Jemeryl grinned at Tevi's puzzled expression. "I'm afraid it's hard to put it in simpler terms."

"I have a vague idea of what you mean - very vague."

"Vague is probably good enough." Jemeryl conceded. "The organs that extract the energy are where its stomach would be, if it had one. The receiver was able to transmute your eyes even after you cut its head off, but it couldn't complete the link to its stomach - fortunately for you."

"So the head can survive on its own?" Tevi asked.

"Only for a very short time, a bit like a headless chicken."

"So everything is quite safe after a few minutes?"

"Not from the chicken's point of view." Klara joined in.

Tevi laughed and sunk back in her chair.

Jemeryl studied her patient for a moment. Tevi's aura was clean and regular; all traces of the sickening crystal drains were gone. Jemeryl could still detect unfamiliar perturbations in the aura, but in her opinion they were not dangerous. It was something she might look into later. After all, she was going to be spending quite some time with this woman.

"Changing your eyes back was a bit tricky. There were a few problems I hadn't expected, but it went all right in the end." Jemeryl's memory prodded her. "Oh, and um... I don't know if you were particularly keen on your previous eye colour, but they're now grey."

"Grey?"

"Yes. Were you hoping for something else... green or blue?"

Tevi looked confused and then shrugged. "As long as they work, I'm not too bothered." She was clearly perplexed by the idea however and raised a hand to her eyes. "When can you take this bandage off?"

"I'd like to leave it another day. If you don't have headaches or other problems, we can see how your eyes are after nightfall tomorrow. It would be best to remove the bandage when it's dark as you will be very sensitive to light for a few days."

Tevi nodded and looked happy with the answer. The pair of them talked for a while longer before Jemeryl announced, "I think it's time for bed."

Although Tevi could have managed alone, Jemeryl took Tevi's hand and escorted her to the door of her room. The warm grip of Tevi's fingers sent ripples through Jemeryl, prompting her to ask, "Are you sure you're okay in here? The bed's pretty small and lumpy, and there's no fire in this room - won't you be cold?"

Before she could say more, Tevi interrupted, grinning. "Thanks, but I've just come over the old pass. I spent the fifteen nights before getting here sleeping on snow and rock. This room is heaven by comparison. If I get cold there's a spare blanket in my pack and I've got a cloak somewhere." She slipped her hand from Jemeryl's and closed the door.

The sorcerer's face held its own bemused smile as she made her way to her bed. She spoke softly to the empty room, "It wasn't a blanket I was planing on offering."

Klara crowed with derision. "Oh go on. Give the poor girl a chance to view the merchandise first."

*****

After breakfast the next morning, the two women went for a walk on the battlements. The sun was rising in a clear blue sky. Jemeryl breathed in the sweet, crisp air and listened to the sound of water all around, dripping from the melting snow, trickling along gutters and splashing underfoot. With her extended senses she could feel the presence of new life, ready to burst forth from the earth.

"Spring is on the way." she announced for the benefit of her blindfolded companion.

"Good. I've seem enough snow for this year."

"Your trek over the Spur can't have been fun."

"It wasn't." Tevi said with a heartfelt sigh.

"Why did you make the journey in winter?"

"I was hired by traders who'd got stuck in Treviston. They didn't have time to wait until spring." Above the bandage, Tevi's forehead creased in a slight frown. "Do you know how long it will be until the main pass over the Spur is reopened?"

"That's still some way off. The roads will be getting busy soon, but people will have to take the long route around the bottom of the Spur for a while." Jemeryl looked at Tevi, wondering if there might be more behind her question than thoughts of the traders. It was definitely time to start learning about her, and her quest. "Where will you be heading when you leave here?"

Tevi shrugged. "It will depend on what work I get."

"I'm sure you have more detailed plans than that."

"Why?"

"Because I know that you're currently on a quest." Hearing her own words Jemeryl frowned. It was a bad habit of sorcerers to use odd scraps of information they picked up to give the impression of omnipotence.

Tevi, however, seemed more puzzled than impressed "I don't think so."

It was now Jemeryl's turn to be confused. "You're not sworn to catch someone, or to find anything?" she suggested, feeling more than a little foolish.

"Oh, well... yes. Abrak's chalice." The sudden awkward shift in Tevi's manner was conspicuous.

"Has Abrak lost her chalice?"

"She's dead. Her chalice is a family heirloom."

"But you're looking for it?"

"Sort of. A bird stole it, so I said I'd get it back." Tevi said, indifferently.

Jemeryl's eyebrows rose. Tevi's attitude certainly made a change from the arrogance of most quest-bound warriors. Something very strange was going on.

"We've got all day. Why don't we get ourselves comfy by the fire and you can tell me about it?" Jemeryl suggested.

From the expression that flitted across Tevi's face, Jemeryl got the feeling that the warrior would rather talk of something else. On the other hand, Jemeryl was becoming very tired of not knowing what was going on. She wanted answers.

Once they were settled back in the parlour, she allowed Tevi no opportunity to evade the subject. "Tell me about this chalice."

Tevi's expression showed a clear unwillingness to speak. Her lips tightened in a line, but at last she started, "Do you know anything about the Western Isles, out to sea from the coast of Walderim?"

"Is that where you come from?" Jemeryl asked; it would explain Tevi's unfamiliar accent.

"Yes."

Jemeryl searched her memory. "I didn't even know there were any islands. I've never seen them marked on any map. I take it your people don't have much contact with the mainland?"

"No. Abrak was the last person to arrive from the mainland. And I'm the first person to leave the islands for..." Tevi's voice faded, her face contorted in obvious distress.

Jemeryl sensed that Tevi was fighting with memories - the young islander must be missing her home and family very much. Softly she asked, "Tevi?"

"I don't... it's..." Tevi took a couple of deep breaths, and managed to regain control of herself. "I'm not sure what to tell you about Abrak. We have lots of songs and stories about her. As a child learnt I them all, but you won't want the full saga - it would take days." Tevi bit her lower lip. "I guess I should start with the old clans fleeing to the islands... "

~~~~~~~~

One hundred years after its founding, the Protectorate was expanding rapidly. At first, this worked to the advantage of the warrior clans of Walderim on the other side of the Aldrak Mountains. The magic users withdrew from the strip of land between the mountains and the sea. Some went to join the Coven. Some moved further away, to places where their power would not be challenged.

The vacuum left by their departure was soon filled by men who relied on strength of arms. They believed it was their swords that had freed the land from the tyranny of sorcerers. It was what they wanted to believe - real men could put their faith in sharp steel, and not submit to the whims of women, weaklings and foreigners with their cowardly magic arts

Yet, the days of the warrior clans were short-lived. Within decades the wealth of the Protectorate guilds, rather than the magic of its sorcerers, had put an end to their dominion. A few warlords saw the inevitable coming and looked to tales told by storm-blown sailors of uninhabited islands far out to sea. Magic could not cross water, so common knowledge had it. With their rule failing, the last clans took their families and possessions and fled, although in their stories it was not retreat but regrouping. They saw themselves as heroes in exile, who would one day return to the mainland, raise the flag of liberty, burn every sorcerer and rule forever as kings of all the known world. They called themselves the 'Sons of Freedom'.

The men settled down to a life of fighting and fishing. They engaged in bloody feuds between the islands. They made sure women kept in their place. They told stories, reinventing the history of the world they had left and made prophecies of their glorious return. None dared admit that the islands were not a cradle of kings but a forgotten backwater. In time, all contact with the mainland ceased, while each year the shoals of fish returned to the seas around the islands and the war-bands fought their petty wars.

No one would have predicted any great change when Thurbold the Blood-handed became ruler of Storenseg. He was a strong warrior, and an ambitious man who had arranged the murder of several close relatives in order to take the kingship while scarcely into his twenties. His schemes went further still. He led his war-band into battle, inspiring them with his berserker courage, until he was on the brink of becoming king of three islands.

Then Rathshorn, Skuden, Varseg and Tanenseg allied against him, forcing him back from every gain he had made. Thurbold's warriors were spent; food stocks were low, and he was on the point of surrender. On a bitter autumn morning he sat brooding in his hall, when the message came that a survivor from a shipwreck had been washed onto the beach.

The castaway was not an enemy sailor, as Thurbold first assumed, but an elderly woman from the mainland. She had no possessions except for a small leather bag containing a battered pewter chalice and some salt encrusted leaves. Exposure had addled her wits. She cackled and sang and talked to herself. Between the nonsense, she said enough for Thurbold to realise he had a sorcerer in his hands.

It should have been straightforward. In the clansmen's way of thinking, a burning was the only proper option, but Thurbold was desperate. (Although, had fortune telling been an art practised on the islands, he might have learnt that he was quite secure. The coalition against him would break down that winter, victim to the ever-present mistrust between islands.)

In his despair, Thurbold decided to bargain with the sorcerer. He offered her gold and a husband if she would cast a spell to make his warriors invincible - she giggled about seaweed. He offered her life and a boat off the islands - she sung songs about apple blossom. He had unpleasant things done to her, then offered to have them stopped, and finally she agreed.

The sorcerer was named Abrak. She was allowed to roam the island under the scrutiny of a few trusted guards. For several days, she shuffled through valleys and over hills, muttering and babbling her nonsense. Thurbold's warriors muttered in turn - that he was a fool to trust the madwoman. Yet, his reputation was such that none dared say it to his face.

Abrak returned to Thurbold's hall. She had found what she needed - the ingredients for a potion that would give his warriors unbeatable strength. She promised that Thurbold would conquer all the islands and his name would be remembered there forever. Thurbold was elated, his decision to negotiate had been the right one.

Abrak offered to show the men how to make the potion. It was a step even fear of Thurbold would not move his warriors to accept. They would take the potion, if there was no other hope of victory, but they would not defile their hands by brewing the sorcery themselves. It was woman's work. None thought anything of it when Abrak's screeched laughter shook the rafters of the hall. The sorcerer was mad.

Abrak instructed the woman on harvesting plants and preparing the potion. She stood before Thurbold one last time to explain how the magic worked. A boy should be given a mouthful of the potion each day, from the time he was weaned until his beard started to grow. Then, with the change to manhood, there would be a change in his body, and the man's strength would be increased twofold for the rest of his life.

Abrak swore by the gods of earth, sea and sky that she was telling the truth. However, it was not the spell Thurbold wanted. His fear was for the coming summer campaign, not for the wars of twenty years time. This was his excuse, if he felt an excuse were needed, to order a pyre built in the village square and to send Abrak to the flames. The brutality and double-dealing were typical of Thurbold, yet all accounts agree that Abrak's mad laughter was never louder than when she went to her death.

The decision to use the potion could not have been easy for Thurbold. In the end he took the risk and gave it to his infant son, and every other baby boy on the island. However, the concoction was not poisonous and time proved that Abrak had spoken the truth. The potion-enhanced warriors of Storenseg were unbeatable. Within twenty-five years of the sorcerer's death, they had conquered all and Thurbold was undisputed king of the Western Isles, the first to claim the title - as his son was to be the last.

Thurbold's ancestors might have warned him - those who'd had dealing with magic users in the days before the flight to the islands. The vengeance of sorcerers may be slow and subtle, but it is as sure as the turn of the tides.

Abrak's vengeance began with the rebellion of the sons. The superhuman warriors were not about to take second place to a rabble of weak, elderly men. Thurbold had less than one year as king, then spent the rest of his days as his son's slave, tending the sheep. Yet worse was in store for the men of the Western Isles.

The legends vary over the reason for the next stage in the story, although they all agree on the outcome. Some man was anxious to push more work onto his daughters, or a nurse found it easier to give the potion to all babies in her charge, or a woman had been privy to Abrak's plans, or it was merely someone's curiosity. Whatever the cause, long before Thurbold's son had taken the kingship, it became the custom to give the potion to girls as well as boys.

The men who ruled the islands gave no thought to women; they took no interest in their daughters. Their lives revolved around men, swords and the clan. Women were not worth consideration, except as vessels of sons, or as trophies to their virility. Which is how it escaped their notice that, while the strength of men was increased twofold by the potion, the strength of women increased fivefold and more.

Maybe this oversight was not so remarkable; even some women failed to see what the potion would mean, unable to conceive of the social order standing on its head. Not all were so blind. One woman in particular saw a new future for the islands. She was a schemer and a manipulator, who engineered the second rebellion, and became the first queen.

It was not easy to turn women, trained to cower, into warriors. However, Abrak had put all the weapons in their hands. Even the basic facts of reproduction worked in their favour. They could kill ninety-nine men out of a hundred, but the men could not reciprocate without forgoing the next generation. By the fortieth anniversary of Abrak's death, the warlike patriarchy had been replaced with a mirror image matriarchy.

The women settled down to a life of fighting and fishing, in a society that revolved around women, swords and the family. They called themselves the 'Daughters of Abrak's Revenge.'

~~~~~~~~

"It sounds as if, in their revolutionary ardour, they got a bit carried away with the rhetoric." Klara observed at the end of the tale.

"I think they got a bit carried away with everything." Tevi said.

Jemeryl had mainly listened to the story in silence. Now she asked, "So on your islands the warriors are all women?"

"Yes."

"And the story of Abrak explains why." Jemeryl mused. "It's imaginative, but it must raise more questions than it answers."

"Such as?"

"For example, what excuse do your people give to explain why the potion no longer works?"

Tevi looked puzzled. "None. Why do you think we'd want one?"

"Aren't you curious?"

"About what?"

"The..." Jemeryl stopped with a frown on her face. The conversation had got out of step somewhere. She decided to start again. "I know enough about herbalism to know the potion could never have worked the way the story said. Therefore it..."

Tevi interrupted, "But it did - it still does."

"It's imposi..." Jemeryl broke off mid-word. "Have you ever seen a woman with this supernatural strength?"

"Of course. I took the potion myself."

The announcement left Jemeryl dumbfounded. She sat back in her chair and stared open-mouthed at Tevi, while recalling the strange perturbations in the islander's aura and the unexpected problems in rebuilding her eyes. Still unsure of how seriously to take the claim, she leaned forward and asked, "So how strong are you?"

"In the mercenaries' guild they use an iron ball to test the strength of applicants. I think there are balls of different weight for different groups. As a warrior, I had the heaviest. I was told to pick it up and throw it as far as I could. I did ask the examiner if he was sure he wanted me to do that. He said yes." Tevi shrugged. "The ball made a nasty dent in the wall at the other side of the yard. Apparently, no one has ever thrown it more than half of the distance before."

"That's..." Jemeryl was lost for words.

"Surely you've got similar potions? I haven't come across anybody who's taken one, but I assumed the Coven was keeping them secret for some reason."

"No. I've never even heard of anything like it. Do you mind if I do a few tests on you?" Jemeryl added, slightly hesitantly.

Tevi considered the request for a moment and then nodded. "Okay. It's forbidden to discuss the potion with strangers, but it was a gift from a mainland sorcerer to start with and, despite your apology, I still think I owe you a lot."

Jemeryl led Tevi to her workroom in the great hall. It took a few minutes to assemble the necessary equipment. At Jemeryl's request, Tevi removed her jerkin and shirt. Jemeryl studied her thoughtfully.

Tevi stood very still. Her top half was covered in only a thin, close-fitting shift, leaving her arms and shoulders bare. It didn't conceal much. Jemeryl was aware her thoughts were drifting away from the line of pure scholarly interest. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Klara watching. The magpie's head was tilted jauntily to one side. A faint blush rose to Jemeryl's cheeks and she concentrated her mind more firmly on the matter in hand.

Jemeryl went to stand behind Tevi, close enough to run her hands slowly over the muscles in the islander's back and arm. She managed to keep her thoughts almost, but not completely, on the subtle irregularities she could detect.

To the perceptions of the ungifted there would be nothing out of the ordinary. Tevi's body showed the results of regular exercise, but was in no way over-developed; any young woman involved in manual labour might have looked much the same. However, now that Jemeryl's extended senses were alerted, it was apparent that the structure of the islander's body had been changed on a cellular level. It was definitely magic of the very highest order. Jemeryl reached for her notebook.

*****

Recounting the tale of Abrak had been a constant battle for Tevi. The story had launched an onslaught of memories - the nights around the fire in her family hall, singing the old songs. Several times, she had been on the point of being overwhelmed by homesickness. Through the blindfold, she could almost see the familiar faces, hear their voices.

The migration to the hall came as a relief; a chance to regroup while Jemeryl's bubbling curiosity took over. Tevi could not comprehend the point of most of the things she was asked to do and very little of what the sorcerer said made sense, but Tevi never felt she was being patronised or ridiculed - quite unlike her experience with the Treviston sorcerer.

Jemeryl talked excitedly. "You must go to Lyremouth and let them examine you fully - that is, if you think the laws of your culture allow it. The potion is astounding."

Tevi considered the request. Her family wouldn't approve, but they had never approved of anything she had done. "Would the Coven be that interested? I'd have thought they'd have lots of potions like it."

"Oh no. Many sorcerers have tried to make strength enhancers, but they all had nasty consequences. If you're lucky it's just people breaking their bones when they try to lift things. Usually the heart goes wild and bursts a blood vessel in the brain. Your potion is very different. It doesn't try to channel external forces through the body. It changes the way a child grows, so the muscles are more efficient. Your bones are stronger as well - that's the really clever bit. The potion makes your body develop a certain way, and then the hormones released at puberty spur everything into action. That's why it works differently for the sexes. Muscle structure is identical for men and women, but the hormones aren't."

Tevi wasn't too sure what hormones were, but the results were something she had given increasing thought to. "It's a shame the potion couldn't have made men and women equal, like they are on the mainland. When I was growing up on the islands, I never saw anything wrong in the way men were treated. If anything it seemed that they were having an easy time - not having to take responsibility and always having women to look after them. But since I've been on the mainland, my attitude has changed. I don't think the men in my village could really have been happy."

"Having heard the whole story it sounds more like poetic justice to me." Klara interjected.

"It's actually the inequality of sorcery that makes for the balance of the sexes on the mainland. Without it, men's physical strength usually distorts things and patriarchal warrior clans take control." Jemeryl paused as if searching her memory. "I seem to recall from my history books that they did flourish briefly in Walderim, a few centuries back. Which would tie in with your story."

"It's a shame they were so violent - and that they took the bloodshed with them to the islands." Tevi said.

She was interrupted as something that felt like a glass pyramid was placed in her hands.

"Can you hold it above your head." Jemeryl asked.

Tevi did so.

"Presumably once the women took over, and the power balance changed, things became a bit more peaceful." Jemeryl picked up the conversation.

"Not that you'd notice. The first queen was the only one ever to rule all the Western Isles. Straight after her death, a dispute broke out between her daughters. Before long the islands were back in a state of permanent warfare, only with women doing the fighting instead of the men."

"The first queen must have been a very strong personality."

"According to my family she was - I'm her great-great-great-granddaughter." Tevi's head sank. If it were not for the blindfold, she would have been staring at the floor. She could hear the taunts, naming her a pathetic product for such a famous lineage. At least living up to her ancestor's reputation was no longer a problem for her.

Fortunately, at that point, the glass pyramid must have revealed something unexpected, requiring Jemeryl's full concentration. The conversation was temporarily abandoned.

*****

Some hours later, after a short break for lunch, Jemeryl had discovered all she could, given the limited resources available in the castle. She scribbled down the last of her observations and put the notebook away. The pair returned to the comfort of the parlour.

"I'm astounded, but you're right. The potion most definitely works." Jemeryl said, once they were settled.

"So do you think the story is true?"

Jemeryl chewed her lip thoughtfully. "It still has to be more fiction than fact. If I had to make a guess, I'd say Thurbold brought Abrak from the mainland on purpose, and gave her far more help than the story implies. He could have invented the shipwreck story to cover himself, so it wouldn't appear that he'd gone looking for a sorcerer."

"To placate his warriors?"

"Something like that. The disproportionate effect on the sexes has to be an accident."

"How can you tell?"

"Herbalism isn't my strongest discipline, but I can estimate how long it would take to develop a potion like yours. The sorcerer would have needed an awful lot of luck and inspiration, and decades rather than days just to get the strength enhancement right. The subtlety to deliberately cause the gender bias is beyond anything that could be achieved in the field. It would take all the resources of the school of herbalism in Ekranos to have any hope of doing it."

Tevi looked thoughtful. "Would Abrak have been a Coven sorcerer?"

"Probably. Herbalism isn't well developed outside the Protectorate. It's only because the Coven is responsible for citizens' health that we spend so much time on it. Sorcerers elsewhere aren't too bothered about colds and sprained ankles." Jemeryl frowned. "But it's hard to see how a Coven sorcerer could have become mixed up with the island clans."

"I always wondered why someone as powerful as Abrak allowed herself to be burnt." Tevi said.

"I suppose that bit might be true." Jemeryl replied slowly. "The idea that magic can't cross water is an oversimplification. The elements affect magical forces in different ways. Water focuses the flow. Small islands are hard to predict until you reach them, especially if they have a high iron content. Some concentrate all the power for hundreds of miles around and some are so dead you can't even light a candle. Your islands must be the inert sort if magic users aren't found on them. Abrak might have been virtually powerless once she got there. When Thurbold realised it, he got rid of her, to destroy the evidence of his complicity."

"But surely then the potion wouldn't work?"

"Living things hold their power in a dimension that isn't affected by water. Herbalism is the most universal of all magical disciplines; not even iron disrupts it."

"Would you be surprised if I said I don't know what you mean by other dimensions?"

"I'd be more surprised if you did." Jemeryl's forehead creased as she tried to find an easy explanation. "Virtually everyone can perceive four dimensions, three spatial and one temporal. And most people have seven senses to perceive them - sight, touch, taste, smell, balance, hearing and time. However, there are three further dimensions and at least six other senses - even sorcerers can't agree on the exact number. Everyone's body extends across all seven dimensions, but most people's paranormal senses don't work, in much the same way as a deaf person can't hear in the four ordinary dimensions. Objects exist in the paranormal dimensions. If you're aware of them, you can use them and that's what's called magic. I know it seems strange to the ungifted, but if you have full use of your senses, it's very straightforward. When we sorcerers wave our hands about and perform magic, all we're doing is moving things on other planes of existence."

"You touch them with your hands?"

"You use your limbs as they project in the other dimensions. The gestures the ungifted see are largely incidental."

Tevi sat in silence, clearly turning the concept over in her mind. "I suppose, if nearly everyone was blind, the few who could see would be able to do things - like use a bow and arrow. To the blind majority it would be a strange and powerful mystery. Is it something like that?"

Jemeryl nodded. "That's it precisely. Many people have limited awareness of their paranormal senses, though it results in nothing more than the sensation of icy fingers down the spine and things like that. Probably nobody has complete control of all their extra-dimensional senses, but the more you can perceive the more powerful a magic user you are. A witch is someone who is aware of one or two of the paranormal dimensions. A sorcerer is competent in all three."

"So you can see me in these extra dimension?"

"Yes."

"How do I look?" Tevi asked, curiously.

Really nice, was Jemeryl's first thought, although she did not say it aloud. "Umm... it's hard to describe. There aren't the right words, since language has been almost entirely developed by the ungifted. Before the Coven, sorcerers didn't get to talk to each other much.

"I suppose the words wouldn't mean anything to me even if you had them." Tevi's wry grin faded into a sigh. She raised her hand to her blindfold. Jemeryl guessed that the talk of extra senses had made her more aware of her current blindness.

As the silence grew Jemeryl returned to the earlier conversation, partly to divert Tevi from worry about her eyes. "You said you were looking for Abrak's chalice. Finish your story. How did it go missing?"

The change in topic did not work as planned. If anything, Tevi looked even more uncomfortable. "The island I come from is Storenseg, which is where Abrak landed. Her relics are still there. They don't amount to much - her satchel, her pewter chalice and some ashes."

"Her last mortal remains?"

"They're supposed to be. They were kept in a shrine to Abrak on the site of where she was killed. One day, just over two and a half years ago, a large black bird swooped in through the door, picked up the chalice and flew off with it. People who were there say it went straight out to sea, heading for the mainland. Everyone was shocked but didn't know what to do about it. So I said I'd go and get it back." Tevi finished in a rush.

"How were you going to find it? The mainland is a very big place."

Tevi shrugged but said nothing.

Jemeryl leaned forward eagerly. It seemed a good time to gently introduce the idea of accompanying Tevi on the quest. "It's a good job that you came here. I can give you a lot of help and advice."

"To be honest, I've pretty much given up hope of achieving the quest." Tevi mumbled, interrupting before Jemeryl could say more.

Tevi was avoiding something she didn't want to talk about - that much was obvious. Jemeryl eyed her guest, hoping it was nothing more than feeling foolish for taking on a task she could not perform. But, watching the tight set of Tevi's lips, Jemeryl got the nasty feeling that a whole new set of pitfalls had lined up in front of her.

Tactfully, she decided not to push the point and allowed Tevi to change subject again, to her travels through the mainland. Jemeryl settled back in her chair and listened with interest, idly watching the firelight play over Tevi's face. The afternoon was well advanced; soon it would be dark and time to remove the bandage from Tevi's eyes. Once she could see again, Jemeryl was sure Tevi's enthusiasm could be revived. Plans for the quest could wait until then.

Chapter 4: New Eyes

While the short winter's day drew to a close, the two women sat chatting in the parlour. Tevi needed only her ears to tell that the clear skies of the morning were gone. Clouds had blown over from the east and a stiff wind sprung up, sending bursts of sleet and rain splattering against the windows, a reminder that winter was not over.

She lazed comfortably in her chair by the fireside, with two squirrels asleep on her lap. Jemeryl was an attentive audience and Tevi willingly recounted the tale of her travels. Master Sarryle proved to be a fertile topic of conversation. A simple description of him ordering a meal at an inn could be guarantied to entertain anyone.

"I sat there and watched him. Then he called the waiter over and said, Young man, do you consider thirty-six peas to constitute an adequate portion?" Tevi managed a fair impression of the old man's voice.

"You mean he counted them?" Jemeryl was incredulous.

"Yes. Every time. Thankfully he was never given rice."

"What happened?"

"It didn't help when the waiter offered to get him a ruler so he could measure the length of the sausages." Tevi said dryly.

"It wound him up further?"

"No, irony was lost on the man - he said yes. In the end, there was the innkeeper, the chef and half the staff around the table. They cooked him a fresh meal, with double potions of everything. Sarryle then said he wasn't hungry anymore and went to bed. I thought they were going to lynch him. I almost offered to go and get them a rope."

"It's easy to see why his daughter left Lyremouth." Jemeryl said, laughing.

"Her mistake was stopping so soon. In her place I'd still be running."

"No. Her big mistake was in telling him where she'd moved to."

Tevi grinned and continued with the tale of her travels. With each passing hour, she was finding it harder to reconcile the woman she was getting to know with the villagers' tales. She didn't see how anyone could spend five minutes in Jemeryl's company without liking her - but she had noticed that the mainland people held a peculiar attitude to sorcerers. Many spoke of them as if they were not human, and no more comprehensible than a thunderstorm. Tevi had already learnt that Jemeryl had a lively sense of humour. Perhaps the villagers had taken her too literally, not ready to credit a sorcerer with being ordinary enough to make jokes. For her part, Tevi found Jemeryl very good company.

Jemeryl's voice was light and clear, with a rich nasal burr of an accent. Tevi was not familiar enough with the people of the Protectorate to place it, but it sounded easy on her ear. She found herself wishing Jemeryl would say more, so she could listen. It would be interesting, when the bandage was removed, to see her and match a face to the voice.

Jemeryl also made no play of superiority. She spoke to Tevi as an equal, easy and unaffected. In fact, she was so quick to be friendly that Tevi wondered if Jemeryl might have been even lonelier than she was herself. After all, Jemeryl was just an ordinary woman - give or take a few enchanted bears.

No doubt the villagers were already working on stories, about the young mercenary who went into the castle and was never seen again. Tevi suspected some would be quite disappointed when she returned, whole and healthy. Really, she should send word that she was safe, but it was far too tempting to wait until she could give the message in person and see the reaction.

*****

Tevi's story ended with her arrival in the valley. Harrick's team of misfits provoked their share of disparaging witticisms; there was also brief a mention of the villagers. Jemeryl suspected Tevi was being tactfully vague about their gossip.

Jemeryl stretched back in her chair and looked about the room. She was surprised to see how dark it had become. Beyond the firelight, the rest of the room was concealed in shadow. Even the squirrels were sleeping. At the snap of her fingers the window-shutters closed. The faint sound of wind whistling over the battlements stopped abruptly.

"What's happened?" Tevi asked, in curiosity rather than alarm.

"I've just fastened the shutters. It's night." Jemeryl said.

"Already?"

"I lost track of time as well. It's been an unusual day." Jemeryl took a deep breath, surprised by her own unexpected anxiety, but there was no point in delaying things. "I think we're ready to take off the bandage and examine your eyes."

Tevi's hands tensed on the arms of her chair. She also was clearly torn between hope and apprehension. "All right."

Jemeryl leaned over and squeezed Tevi's shoulder for encouragement. "Don't worry. I did a good job on your eyes."

"I'm sure you did. It's not that I don't trust you, but I don't know what will happen to me if my sight isn't restored. The mercenaries could even refuse me a pension, as I got the injury in an unauthorised venture."

"You're not going to need the pension - not for a long time." Jemeryl stated confidently.

Tevi nodded but said nothing.

Jemeryl stood and took her hand. "Come on. It will be better if we go to your room, where there's no firelight."

"How long am I going to have to stay in darkness?"

"Just while I do a few tests, then we can come back in here."

The absence of light in the bedroom was no problem to Jemeryl with her extended sorcerer's senses. Under her guidance, Tevi sat on the edge of the bed. Jemeryl removed the bandage and lightly touched Tevi's eyelids with her fingertips. She could feel the faint electric currents of nerves pulsing at the back of the retina, the warmth of living flesh and the elasticity of muscle. A pleased smile crossed Jemeryl's face; everything seemed very satisfactory. She then sat beside Tevi on the bed, and twisted sideways so she faced her patient.

"I'm going to make three small balls of light, a red, a blue and a green. They should all appear the same size and have sharply defined edges. Tell me if you see them." Jemeryl reached out and gently rippled the currents in the sixth dimension, to create the effect she had described.

Tevi's voice rung out immediately. "Yes. I can see them. Just like you said." The joy in her voice was unmistakable.

"Right. I'm now going to merge the three coloured balls to make a white one. I'll move it to where it won't shine directly into your eyes, then we'll check out the rest of your vision."

The lights merged. Slowly, Jemeryl started to raise the level of illumination in the room. Tevi's outline became visible, then the bed and the floor, but, just at the point when the light was beginning to touch the far wall Tevi's gave a gasp and closed her eyes tightly, a look of panic on her face.

Jemeryl doused the light at once. "What's wrong Tevi?"

"There's too much." Tevi's voice was raw and tight.

"Does it hurt?"

"No, but it looks all wrong."

Jemeryl matched Tevi in despair - she had been so sure the reconstruction had gone well. She needed more information; hopefully the problem would be rectifiable. "What did you see?"

"There was too much. Things were where they shouldn't be, all over the place."

Jemeryl thought furiously. "That sounds as if a nerve has been misconnected. Wait a few minutes and we'll try again. If you can give me a better idea of what you're seeing I should be able to correct the fault. Let me know when you're ready to continue."

Tevi's hand clasped Jemeryl's arm. "I'm okay. It wasn't painful, but it threw me. It just didn't look right."

Once again, Jemeryl gradually increased the light and said, "Now. Tell me what you can see that's strange."

Tevi let go of Jemeryl and gripped the edge of the mattress with her hands, keeping her head very still. She spoke deliberately, between gulps of air. "I'm looking straight ahead at the wall, but I can see my knees, and your shoulder, and part of the ceiling, and there's too much wall." Again, she squeezed her eyes shut.

Inspiration hit Jemeryl with a thump. She leaned back and studied her patient in astonishment. The unexpected snags she had encountered while reconstructing Tevi's eyes at last made sense. Abrak's potion had not been the cause of the problem, although the truth was just as surprising.

"Can you fix it? Do you know what's wrong?" There was an edge of panic to Tevi's voice.

"I know what was wrong."

"Was? But they still aren't right."

Jemeryl spoke gently. "No. Your eyes are fine now. The problem with them was in the past, and I'm not referring to the crystallisation."

"What... when?"

"It's known as tunnel vision. In rebuilding your eyes I've inadvertently cured it."

"Cured?"

"Even before you fought the basilisk, you had defective vision. You only saw out of the centre of your eyes. The nerve connections to the outer segments were damaged. I guess you were born like it and never realised you weren't seeing properly."

"My eyes were fine."

"I don't think they were. While I was rebuilding your eyes, I came across some irregularities. I put them down to a side effect of the crystallisation, but they would tie in with tunnel vision. More to the point, what you described seeing just now would be considered perfectly normal by anyone with healthy eyesight."

Tevi sat in silence while Jemeryl's words sunk in. "You mean that everyone sees the world like this all the time? It's awful. How do they cope?"

Jemeryl laughed softly, mainly with relief. "It comes down to what you're used to. Once you get the hang of it, a wide peripheral vision is a useful thing to have, especially, I would have thought, for someone in your profession."

*****

It was some time before Tevi was able to open her eyes without being overwhelmed by nausea. She needed Jemeryl's assistance to get back to her chair in the parlour, walking with her eyes closed. Jemeryl dimmed the light from the fire to a dull red glow that illuminated the immediate surroundings without casting any harsh, bright light.

Tevi sat uneasily in her chair, taking quick peeks at her surroundings while trying to keep as still as possible. Every time she moved, the room whirled. It took a very slow and cautious effort to turn her head and examine the sorcerer. The subdued firelight showed a young, triangular face, surrounded by unruly auburn curls. Dark amber shadows were cast in the hollows of Jemeryl's eyes and cheeks. A lopsided grin completed the impish effect.

"I'd wondered what you looked like." Tevi said.

"Well don't say whether I'm better or worse than you imagined. It gives grounds for offence either way."

"Can I say you look a lot better than the villagers implied?"

"You mean I haven't got a hooked nose, fangs and bloodshot eyes?"

Heedless of the dignity of her status as a Coven sorcerer, Jemeryl sat in a nonchalant pose. One leg stretched out to the fire while the other was hooked over the armrest. Her right arm was draped across the back of her chair, with a slender, long-fingered hand dangling loosely at the end. She was wearing a shapeless white shirt, several sizes too big for her, with sleeves rolled back to the elbows. Tevi thought that Jemeryl's looks, if not exactly what she had imagined, accorded very well with her easygoing manner.

"You're younger than I expected. I could tell by your voice you weren't old, but I still had a picture in my mind." Tevi studied the sorcerer thoughtfully. "Do you genuinely look like that or have you altered your appearance?"

Jemeryl laughed. "I'm really, truly only twenty-two. Using magic to change the way you look is seen as very immature. I'll admit to combing my hair from time to time - not that it does much good."

"If she was going to muck about with magic, wouldn't you expect better results than this?" Klara said, from her habitual perch on Jemeryl's chair.

"Oh, I would say she..." Tevi's mouth went dry; her stomach flipped over.

Jemeryl's face was not one of refined classical beauty. Such a face would not have suited her irreverent manner, nor could it have taken the mischievous grin that lit her features. Yet, as Tevi felt her heart pounding against her ribs, she knew that Jemeryl's appearance was altogether much too much to her liking. Almost against her will she found herself picking out the details: the belt that pulled the shirt in to reveal a slim waist, Jemeryl's finely formed hands, long straight legs, and the small dark hollow at the base of her throat.

"What?" Jemeryl asked.

"Pardon?"

"What would you say? You didn't finish your sentence."

"Oh... nothing." Tevi mumbled.

"It's okay. You're allowed to have an opinion about me. After all, I've been watching you for the last couple of days and I've formed some opinions of my own. If you like I'll come over and sit beside you and tell you what they are."

In her agitated confusion, Tevi did not register Jemeryl's words. The only coherent thought in her head was a desperate hope that mind reading wasn't one of the sorcerer's skills. She had no desire to discover Jemeryl's response to the uncontrolled emotions churning inside her.

She could feel Jemeryl's eyes, as if they were deliberately trying to catch hers. Rather than risk that happening Tevi sharply twisted back to the fire, and was swamped by a burst of nausea as the room leapt cartwheels around her. Her lips pulled back in a grimace and she scrunched her eyes shut.

After all her plans to avoid personal contact, she had allowed herself to become far too keen on Jemeryl, and hadn't realised it until the moment she set eyes on her. Just because you were blind to the world didn't mean you had to be blind to what was going on inside you. Tevi cursed herself as a fool. She was in trouble. She was a heartbeat away from being in love - with someone it was far too dangerous to offend.

*****

At the other side of the room, Jemeryl was waiting for Tevi's response to her overture. Part of her was confident that Tevi would welcome the offer to sit beside her, and from there things would progress in a predictable, and very enjoyable direction. Part of her was gnawed by agonised apprehension; butterflies in the stomach didn't begin to describe the feeling. Jemeryl found herself desperately praying for a smile and a nod of agreement, instead she saw Tevi's expression switch to one of pain.

"Are you all right ,Tevi?"

"I moved too fast. It upsets my stomach, and my head. Are you sure everyone sees like this?" Tevi said quickly.

"Everyone with normal vision."

"I guess I'll have to learn to get used to it."

And I guess I'll have to learn to improve my timing, Jemeryl commented wryly to herself. Try waiting until she's not feeling sick next time. Aloud she said, "I could block off your peripheral vision again, but I'd be loath to do that. I think you should give it a good try before you make any decisions."

"It's strange to think that all my life I just assumed everyone saw things the same way as me." Tevi's voice was strained, as if she were deliberately pushing herself to follow the new topic of conversation.

Slightly mystified, Jemeryl went along with it. "Didn't you ever notice other people could see more of what was happening around them?"

"Not really, although some things now make sense. My weapons teachers were always telling me to watch my opponent's feet out of the corner of my eye. I never knew what they meant."

"It must have been quite a handicap for you."

Tevi's attempt at a rueful grin looked more as if she was about to throw up. "It would be nice to think it's the reason I'm so incompetent at fighting."

"Incompetent is not a word normally applied to any warrior who kills a basilisk."

"I am by the standards of my village. I was the joke of the island because I was so hopeless. Do you think I'll be better now?"

"It's hard to say. You may be able to make full use of your vision, or habits may be so ingrained you'll be unable to change. But your family can't have thought that badly of you if they entrusted you with the quest."

"I wasn't given the quest as a mark of honour." Tevi looked as if salt had been poured on a raw wound.

"Are you sure you're all right?" Jemeryl was now very concerned.

"I'm just a bit queasy with my eyes. Maybe some smoke from the fire..." The half-hearted words trailed off, clearly a weak attempt at an excuse.

Jemeryl left her chair and moved to a stool by Tevi's side, but restrained the urge to reach out and touch the other woman. Adding everything together, things were starting to make more sense. She volunteered to find the chalice as an act of bravado to silence her critics, Jemeryl thought.

Tevi sat staring forlornly at the ground.

This could be the chance to introduce the subject of accompanying Tevi on the quest. Jemeryl said softly, "I can't promise, but now that your eyes are fixed you might be better. If you find the chalice and go back..."

Tevi interrupted, "There's not much chance of that."

"Yes there is, with my help."

"Do you know where the chalice is?"

"No, but I know how to go about finding it."

"I suppose, if you point me in the right direction..." Tevi began, half-heartedly

"Better than that, I'll come with you."

"You can't do that." Tevi's response was immediate, horrified.

"Why not? The villagers will be relieved to see me go and I can help you enormously. Wouldn't you like my company?" Cautiously Jemeryl reached out and took hold of Tevi's hand.

The effect on Tevi was instantaneous. She snatched her hand away and lurched to her feet, swaying. "I don't know if I'll even bother to get the chalice. But you can't come with me. I don't want..."

Jemeryl was dismayed and astonished by the response. "Tevi?"

"I'm sorry. I'm don't mean to sound rude. Thank you for the offer. It's kind of you, but it's out of the question. I... I'm... I think I need to go to bed." Tevi fled to her room.

Left alone in the parlour Jemeryl sat bewildered. How had things gone so wrong, so quickly? She looked at Klara. "Why was she so upset? What did I say?"

"I think it's more what you did. She doesn't want to hold your hand. Mumbling sweet nothings in her ear and long walks in the moonlight are probably out as well. And you can forget the rest."

Jemeryl stood up and looked around the room. Her eyes fixed on the door to Tevi's room. She took a half step, then stopped, turned around and threw herself back down in her chair. She glared at the embers of the fire, her confusion giving way to hurt. Somehow, she had taken it for granted that Tevi would return her affection, but it was impossible to miss the rebuff in Tevi's behaviour, and it did not take any sorcerer's arts to know the rejection had been largely personal.

"I thought she liked me." Jemeryl said.

"Ah, but that was before she saw you. Maybe you look an awful lot worse than she was expecting." Klara fluttered down to land on the arm of the chair. She tilted her head to one side and studied the sorcerer thoughtfully. "And to be brutally honest, her expectations needn't have been that high."

With a forced attempt at a smile, Jemeryl pushed the magpie off her perch.

*****

Jemeryl left the shutters in place the next morning, since she knew Tevi's eyes would be hypersensitive to light. Consequently, the room was still in a dim half-light when Tevi made her appearance in the parlour, even though it was long after dawn. Jemeryl watched her entrance with concern. It was apparent that the night's sleep had done nothing to improve Tevi's mood. Problems with her newly restored vision had to be a contributing factor, but Jemeryl was gloomily certain there was more to it.

"Good morning Tevi. How are you?" she asked, with little hope of learning much from the reply.

"Not too good." Tevi mumbled.

"Is it just your eyes?"

"More or less. I feel a little nauseous as well."

"Breakfast might help. There's bread, honey and milk on the table. I've already eaten, but I'll help you if you want."

"I'll manage on my own."

Tevi stumbled across the room and sat down with a partially repressed groan.

Jemeryl joined her at the table, though she kept a discrete distance. For a while Tevi picked at her food in silence, her whole manner subdued. The easy friendship of the previous day was gone, replaced by a strained reserve. This was not the time to pursue the issue of joining Tevi on the quest, but it would be several days before Tevi was able to travel, hopefully things between them would improve by then.

Tevi ate slowly, her eyes glued to the tabletop, as if not daring to move her head. "I'm not sure if I'm ever going to be able to cope with this." she said at last.

"It will get easier. Give it time." Jemeryl tried to put some reassurance in her voice.

"I... I'm sorry if I'm not seeming too grateful at the moment."

Tevi's voice had lost some of its sullen tone, which gave Jemeryl the confidence to quip, "That's okay. I can wait until tomorrow for you to tell me how wonderful I've been."

"I suppose, to be fair, I could concede that now." Tevi sunk back in her chair and closed her eyes in a grimace. "But the light's very bright."

"Oh, Tevi. You should have said sooner." Now that Jemeryl looked closely she could see Tevi's eyes were watering. At a gesture, rolls of shadow flowed down over the windows, reducing the parlour to a thick dusk. "There. Is that better?"

"Yes. Thank you."

"I should have guessed it would still be too bright for you, even with the shutters closed." Jemeryl said, remorsefully.

"How long before my eyes will be better?"

"You should notice some improvement by tomorrow. In eight or nine days you'll be able to cope with full daylight."

"I guess that's not too bad." Tevi conceded, although her tone was far from happy.

"It might be a bit boring for you. There's not much I can offer in the way of entertainment in the dark." Jemeryl said, adding mentally. At least nothing you've given me grounds to think you might be interested in.

"I've had quite enough excitement in the past few days. But I don't want to stop you, if there's anything you need to do. I don't mind being left alone." Tevi's tone implied that solitude would even be preferred.

Jemeryl bit her lip, and tried to prevent disappointment from showing on her face - an unnecessary precaution, given that Tevi had not once glanced in her direction. There seemed little hope of charming her way back into Tevi's favour. Investigating other options seemed the best hope. She was sure at least part of Tevi's reticence was due to a belief that the quest for the chalice was impossible. Proving otherwise might not remove all objections, but it would be a start. There were few resources at hand in the castle, yet they were almost certainly sufficient to deduce Abrak's true identity. From there other leads might come.

A little diplomacy was called for. Jemeryl tried not to sound to eager as she said, "There's nothing I have to do. However, your story of Abrak caught my interest as a sorcerer. I thought, while you're still around to answer questions, I might try and find out more about her."

"What would you like to know?"

"I've got books upstairs in my study, which will probably mention her, but I'd need to know her real name."

"Her real name? What's wrong with Abrak?" Tevi said, surprised.

"It's like a miller called Dusty, or a carpenter called Chips. Abrak is a joke name for a sorcerer, short for Abracadabra. It's a piece of meaningless gibberish that for some reason is linked with magic in the minds of storytellers."

"Oh."

"Do you know of any other name for her?"

Tevi shook her head and clearly regretted it instantly. She clasped her hands to her temples and shut her eyes tightly. "Idiot." she hissed between clenched teeth. Her arms dropped and she met Jemeryl's gaze with a faint smile, for the first time that morning. "I meant me, not you. The room whirled when I did that."

"I realised." Jemeryl smiled back at her, happy that the air of tension had eased slightly. "Since you don't know her name, it might help if I had some dates to work with. Do you know how long ago it was that Abrak arrived on your islands?"

"I'm afraid we islanders don't go in for arithmetic. We didn't even use the words for numbers over twelve - there wasn't any need. If you saw an enemy war-band with more warriors than that, you didn't hang about to count the rest. Sheep were added up on tally-sticks. I've mainly learned about numbers since I've been on the mainland. Marith gave me lessons. She said I'd need them to keep track of money and things like that."

"Well, perhaps you can give some indirect dates. You said the leader in the rebellion was your..." Jemeryl's forehead creased. "Great-great-great-grandmother. Do you have any idea how old your ancestors were when they gave birth?"

"My mother was quite old when she had me. She'd had three boys and five miscarriages before I was born. She was my grandmother's first child, but after that, it gets a bit vague. My grandmother had two elder sisters who survived to adulthood. I think there was also a brother, plus a couple of others who died in infancy. My grandmother was still a child when her both older sisters were killed in battle. Which was how she became queen."

Tevi paused, halted by a gesture from Jemeryl.

"Males don't become Kings?"

"Never."

"And your grandmother was queen?"

"Yes, didn't I say?"

"You're the eldest daughter of her eldest daughter." Jemeryl frowned. "I admit I'm not over familiar with the workings of hereditary monarchies, but doesn't that mean you'll be queen yourself one day?"

Tevi's expression became even less happy. "Probably not. I promised not to go back without the chalice, and I doubt I'll ever find it. But I've got a younger sister, and I'm sure she'll do a good job."

Tevi spoke diffidently, but she was clearly fighting to keep her lower lip steady. Jemeryl was confused. From what she had put together so far, Tevi had not been held in high regard by her family and had volunteered to find the chalice to prove her worth. That Tevi had been willing to risk her place in the succession must have been a desperate gamble on her part. People from hereditary cultures attached immense importance to following their parents, or so Jemeryl had heard. Yet, although Tevi was clearly distressed, she showed no sign of being driven to complete the quest and reclaim her inheritance. Tevi's character did not appear to lack determination, and the basilisk proved she was no coward. Why was she so ready to abandon all hope of returning to her home? Something else had to be involved, and it might well be relevant to the quest, however Jemeryl was sure it would not be wise to probe the subject until some level of trust could be re-established.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..." Jemeryl stopped herself on the point of saying upset, "er... interrupt you. We were talking about dates. Do you know how old you are?"

"Twenty."

"You were your mother's ninth pregnancy. So when you were born she must have been... mid-thirties?" Jemeryl guessed.

"Yes, about that." Tevi's voice was steadier.

"Right, then your grandmother..." Jemeryl grabbed a pen and began making notes.

A short while later, Tevi had passed on all the relevant information she possessed. Jemeryl added up the figures and chewed the end of the quill thoughtfully.

"I estimate Abrak arrived on your islands in the region of 140 to 175 years ago. It's something to work with."

"I'm sorry I can't be more help."

"That's all right. There can't have been too many sorcerers who disappeared without trace in the vicinity of Walderim during that time."

"Is there anything else you want?" Tevi asked.

Jemeryl sighed. She would have liked to bring her books down and sit in the parlour, but Tevi would clearly be happier left on her own. "No. I'm going see if I can find anything out. If you have any problems call me."

"I'll be fine. The bears can stay and keep me company - if you don't need them."

"Might as well, they'd only get in my way."

Jemeryl slumped despondently up the stairs to her study. She had hoped Tevi's abrupt departure the night before had been due to a misunderstanding, but Tevi had been blatantly building barriers between them just now. Even after you made allowances for problems with her sight, she had pointedly not looked in Jemeryl's direction. And it was too late for Jemeryl to wish she had kept a tighter rein on her own emotions - just one more problem she would have to resolve.

The more immediate task was tracking down Abrak. A long row of books on herbalism lined one shelf in the study. Jemeryl groaned at the sight of them. None was quite what she needed. A directory of sorcerers would have been best, but all she had were the medical books she had brought with her, anticipating the needs of the villagers. Iralin's words of censure echoed in her ears - most had not been off the shelf since she arrived in the valley. Jemeryl was not even sure what some of them contained. Hopefully there would be biographical details of the creators of various potions, with cross-references for people interested in further details of their work.

Jemeryl called a book over to her - it was going to be a long tedious search.

*****

By late afternoon Jemeryl had gone through five books and learnt nothing. She closed the cover of the one she was reading and sent it back to the shelf. The hours were taking a toll and her concentration was starting to suffer. It was probably best to stop for the day and start again in the morning.

It was getting dark outside; the window displayed only her reflection. Apart from a brief meeting at lunch, she had not spoken to Tevi. Maybe by now the mercenary would be ready for company.

Everything was much as she had left it when Jemeryl entered the parlour. The two bears were sleeping in front of the fire. Several squirrels had dragged a cloak onto a chair to make a nest. However there was no sign of Tevi. The absence was a little surprising; on her way from the study, Jemeryl had seen that Tevi was not in the hall. Even with the fading light, being outside would put a strain on Tevi's eyes, although it was possible that she was attending to her pony. Before going to check the sables, Jemeryl first tried knocking on the door to Tevi's room.

"Tevi?" she called. There was no answer. Jemeryl pushed the door open and peered in.

Tevi was curled in tight ball on the bed, her face knotted in agony.

"Tevi, what's wrong?" Jemeryl rushed to her side.

"My head hurts." Tevi hissed through clenched teeth.

"Why didn't you call me?"

"I'll be okay."

"No you won't. When did this start?"

"I was practising walking up and down. Things were starting to spin. I thought I could manage but..." Tevi ground to a stop.

"But you pushed it too far." Jemeryl finished the sentence for her. "You should have called me when you started to feel ill."

"I'm sorry."

Jemeryl's initial alarm was giving way to anger. There was no need for Tevi to start acting like one of the stupid villagers. Why hadn't the warrior called when she started feeling unwell? Why hide in her room? It was unlikely that any serious damage had been done, although Tevi was clearly in pain; her face was bloodless pale, her aura distorted.

As she took in the details Jemeryl's mood softened to exasperation. Maybe it's my fault, Jemeryl told herself, There's something about me that makes the ungifted act like frightened idiots when I'm around. She just wished she knew what it was. In the meantime, Tevi needed her help.

"Roll over and lie face down." Jemeryl ordered. Once Tevi had obeyed, she sat beside her on the edge of the bed.

The muscles of Tevi's neck and shoulders were snarled like twisted rope. Deftly Jemeryl began to massage away the tension. At the same time, she worked on Tevi's aura. Her abilities as a sorcerer allowed Jemeryl to see the series of tiny vortexes littering Tevi's astral projection. They disrupted the flow of life energies. In time, they would fade of their own accord, but reversing the spin would speed up the process. Relaxing the cramped muscles and raising the flow of blood would prevent their return.

Within minutes, she could tell the pain in Tevi's head was starting to abate. The hard cords in Tevi's neck softened, although the tightness in her shoulders was proving more stubborn. It would be easier if Tevi removed her thick jerkin. Jemeryl was about to ask but stopped, uncertain. Suddenly her hands were very aware of the touch of Tevi's skin - the texture and the warmth.

Jemeryl's gaze travelled the length of the body lying motionless on the bed. She finished staring at the back of Tevi's head. There was an overwhelming temptation to run her hands though Tevi's short dark hair, to take hold of her shoulder, turn her over, and look into her eyes. It was so easy for Jemeryl to fantasise the act of then kissing Tevi, slowly and very thoroughly, and imagine the feel of Tevi's arms tightening around her. Jemeryl's hands started to move before she had a chance to think, but then she mastered her errant emotions.

From Tevi's reaction the night before it was easy to guess the outcome of attempting such an manoeuvre. Jemeryl barely suppressed her groan of despair. Iralin had given her a job to do, one she had to succeed at. She dare not risk alienating the woman she was obliged to accompany. After only a second's pause, Jemeryl continued to massage Tevi's shoulders, but she had moved her hands to the outside of the jerkin, breaking the direct contact with Tevi's skin.

"How do you feel?" Jemeryl asked, once the last of the vortexes had disappeared.

"I'm okay, the pain has gone." Tevi's voice was muffled by the blanket.

"Will you come and sit in parlour?"

"I think I'd rather lie here a while."

"Do you want me to stay with you?" Jemeryl offered.

"No."

The answer was so faint Jemeryl had to strain to catch it, but unmistakable. Jemeryl got off the bed and walked to the door. "All right. But in future call me when you don't feel well."

"I'm sorry. I didn't want to disturb you."

Before leaving the room, Jemeryl stopped for one last look at her patient. Tevi still had not moved. Her face was buried in the pillow, preventing any eye contact. Jemeryl pulled the door shut and went to her seat by the fire. The faint noise she made woke Ruff briefly. The bear snorted and rolled over before falling back asleep.

The room was very quiet. With only the animals' slumbering presence for company Jemeryl sat for a long time, staring bleakly into the flames. Her heart was pounding. Her hands ached from the memory of touching Tevi. In despair she thought, Oh gods, I've really fallen for her. Her emotions were totally out of control, and all her skills as a sorcerer could not help her.

And Tevi wasn't interested - she was making it very obvious, taking every chance to put literal as well as metaphorical distance between them. Jemeryl could guess why.

Many of the ungifted were uncomfortable around sorcerers. Few would be willing even to have one as a friend, let alone as a lover. Tevi had shown no sign of being bothered by Jemeryl's status - Until she saw me, Jemeryl though. Or rather, until she saw how I was looking at her. Tevi's tolerance of sorcerers apparently did not extend that far. It was not merely that Tevi did not return the feelings - she was running scared. Does she think sorcerers can't take 'No' as an answer?

Of course, there was one definite area where Jemeryl could not accept a 'No'. Whether Tevi agreed or not, she had to go with her on the quest for the chalice. Tevi's consent would make it less unpleasant, but either way it was going to be miserable. Jemeryl's jaw clenched at the thought - to spend months in Tevi's company, with her close at hand but out of reach. Did Iralin known what she was condemning me to when she gave her orders? Jemeryl wondered. Then her lips twisted into a bitter grimace, Probably not. It's just one of those things.

*****

When she heard the door shut, Tevi rolled onto her back and flung an arm over her face. With her eyes closed, she could almost see the hay barn at Storenseg, and hear the contemptuous voices. What would her mother say to see her now? Would Red be able to overcome her disgust long enough to laugh at the bad joke?

Tevi clenched her jaw. She should have called her grandmother's bluff back on Storenseg. Even if she had lost the gamble, it would have been honest. She could have been true to herself, but, like a coward, she had accepted the option to run. She had been running ever since. She had fled from Cayell and now she wanted to escape again. However, Tevi knew in her heart it was the most pointless form of flight - she was trying to run away from herself.

"What else can I do?" Tevi whispered under her breath.

She was not handling things well. Her behaviour had been nothing short of rude in rebuffing Jemeryl's overtures of friendship. She had snubbed the offer to go on the quest, from fear of causing worse offence. Yet even if the search for the chalice had been in earnest, she could not have risked Jemeryl's company. She liked the sorcerer, far more than was safe, far more than could be hidden. It could not be long before she did or said something to give herself away. She knew she had annoyed Jemeryl - the knowledge hurt; she did not want Jemeryl to think badly of her.

The honourable course would be to face things squarely. To go to Jemeryl, tell her the whole sordid truth and except what ever might come of it. But what would Jemeryl say or do? As the Coven representative in the area Jemeryl was responsible for maintaining law and order. Would she, in her official role, feel obliged to report to the mercenary guild-masters? How would it feel to have Jemeryl look at her with loathing?

I can't do it. It was an admission of cowardice. Tevi hated herself.

Tevi got to her feet and walked to the window of her room. The shutters had been in place all day. She gave a shove to open them, venting her anger by using far more force than necessary. Night had fallen. The moon was rising in the eastern sky, floating above the mountains. To Tevi's newly rebuilt eyes its gentle light burned like the blast of a furnace. Fumbling blindly, Tevi refastened the shutters and collapsed back on the bed.

The only option she had was to get away as soon as possible, and keep moving, but there was no chance of doing it immediately. She must wait until her eyes were strong again. Until then, she would have to keep herself under tight control, guard her words and actions. When she could withstand daylight she would go - but she didn't want to. The thought of staying with Jemeryl was appallingly tempting. Tevi could hardly believe how much she craved it. The memory of Jemeryl's hands touching her neck washed over her with painful intensity. Tevi's self-control deserted her. Hot tears escaped from under her eyelids as she sobbed.

Chapter 5: A Cautionary Tale

Jemeryl's hunt for Abrak the next day did not produce the name of even one potential candidate. By evening, she was becoming dejected. Tevi contrived to be both more sociable and less friendly, which further depressed her mood. Tension permeated the entire castle; the bears were irritable and even Klara's stream of sarcasm dried up. Only the squirrels were unaffected.

Affairs improved slightly on the following day. Tevi's eyes were less sensitive which produced a positive effect on her humour. Her greeting at breakfast was warmer. Jemeryl wondered if this was a cue to stay a while and chat, but as soon as the meal was finished Tevi disappeared into her room. To Jemeryl's consternation, she returned a few seconds later, carrying her sword.

"I need to do some exercises." Tevi explained.

"Promise you'll stop if you get a headache?"

Tevi nodded, a little sheepishly. She moved to the largest clear space in the parlour. Her sword tip began to trace swift patterns in the air, moving in set routines of feint, parry and riposte.

Clearly, Tevi was not ready to talk. Jemeryl was about to leave, when an idea occurred to her, one that might get Tevi to accept help.

"That doesn't look very exciting." She said casually.

Tevi paused and glanced over her shoulder. "It isn't, but it's the only way I have to keep the muscles in my sword arm in shape."

"If you want I could conjure a phantom opponent for you."

"A phantom opponent?"

"An illusion for you to spar with."

"Um... thanks, but I wouldn't want to waste your time." Despite her words, Tevi was clearly intrigued.

"It's no trouble. It will only take a minute to set up. Everything I need is in the hall."

Tevi looked uncertain, but then nodded. "Okay, I'll give it a try."

Jemeryl reduced the light in the great hall to a soft twilight that would not hurt delicate eyes. It was the first time Tevi had seen Jemeryl's workroom and she wandered around, bemused by the strange artefacts. A call from Jemeryl reclaimed her attention. The sorcerer had drawn a twisting pattern in chalk on the floor. A grey humanoid shape was forming above it, sword in hand.

"I'm afraid I don't know enough weapon-craft to make a serious opponent for you, but it should be more fun than waving a sword at thin air." Jemeryl said.

"Oh no, it's er..." Tevi's words ground to a halt in wonder. She stood in front of the figure. "What do I do with it?"

"Just attack. It will stop when you move away."

Tevi tentatively jabbed her sword towards the phantom's midriff. The figure responded instantly with a block. A shower of sparks fell as the two blades clashed. Tevi swung her sword across in a more purposeful attack. The phantom dodged, then struck out with its own weapon, forcing Tevi to parry.

She stepped back and looked at Jemeryl quizzically. "Before I go on, how dangerous is it?"

Jemeryl grinned. "Don't worry. I'm not about to see my work fixing your eyes go to waste. The sword will tingle if it hits, but that's all."

Tevi returned to the attack. Jemeryl settled back to watch. The phantom did not need her presence and it might be wiser to leave, but the sight of Tevi fighting, graceful and deadly, was too seductive. Then something else caught Jemeryl's attention. She leaned forward, intent on the timing of the two swords slicing through the air.

After several minutes of sparring, Tevi stood back, breathing heavily. Eyes closed, she pressed a hand against her forehead.

"Are you all right?" Jemeryl asked.

"Just a little giddy. The room spins when I move but it doesn't make me feel ill as it use to." Tevi's hand dropped. She sounded pleased.

"Good." Jemeryl paused. "You know, I don't think you're completely ungifted."

"Pardon?"

"You've got a trace of a paranormal ability."

"I've what?"

"It's nothing too conspicuous. I'm sure nobody else would have noticed. But it's my phantom, so I knew what it was going to do, and I could tell you were getting ready to parry its blow before it moved. I'd say your second dimensional time sense warned you." The surprise on Tevi's face made Jemeryl laugh. "Time exists in two dimensions. Nearly everyone can perceive one, but you need the paranormal ability for the other. A few can't see the first dimension - a bit like being blind or deaf. They appear mad to the rest of us. For them everything happens without order, cause or effect."

"And the second dimension?"

"It's used for fortune telling and the like. Fortunately it's an ability that isn't well developed in me."

"Why fortunately? It sounds like a good thing."

Recent experience came to mind, although Jemeryl decided not to use it as an example. Instead, she said, "It's more trouble than it's worth. If you see time in two dimensions, the future is as fixed as the past. There are very few with the faculty to any great degree in the Coven - most live as hermits. Keovan was a rare sorcerer who was fully aware of two dimensional time and still able to cope with other people."

"Wasn't he the one who founded the Coven?" Tevi remembered the name.

"It was founded by his apprentices after his death. Keovan couldn't have started the Protectorate; he was too overwhelmed by the ultimate futility of everything."

"The Protectorate don't seem futile to me."

Jemeryl's expression became solemn. "Nothing can last forever. One day the Coven will fall and the Protectorate with it. Four hundred years of peace and prosperity have swollen the population. There are over 70 million citizens, plus another 15 million in surrounding lands that depend on the Coven for their security. That's twice as many people as the rest of the world put together. When the Protectorate collapses most will die, one way or another. If I were permanently conscious that all the good I could achieve would only make for a bigger catastrophe at the end, I'd be as paralysed as Keovan."

"You said you thought I had something of the sense."

"Nothing like enough to give you problems. I'd guess it's working a fraction of a second into the future and only giving you critical information - such as where your enemy is about to strike."

"How does it work?"

"You know what you were doing. How did it feel? How did you know where to move?"

Tevi frowned. "It seemed as if Blaze, my old weapons instructor, was giving advice. I thought I was just remembering her lessons."

"That's the way your mind rationalised the information, because you haven't grown up with the sense. It wouldn't have worked on your islands. Judging by the absence of sorcerers, there must be a high iron content to the rocks, and iron puts a complete stop on prophecy."

"I'm not sure if I like the idea."

"I'd have thought it would be very useful to you. But if you want to block it out, wear iron or steel armour, particularly a helmet. Your sword will be impairing your precognition, although the wooden handle will insulate you to some extent. If, on the other hand, you want to make more use of it, you could consider getting a rune-sword that's been crafted to harmonise with temporal currents, but they are expensive."

"Supposing one day the voice screams in my ear, Too late, you're going to die."

"Then it won't make any difference."

Tevi swung her sword back and forth thoughtfully. Eventually she asked, "How rare is this extra time-sense?"

"Hard to tell. Many people have limited paranormal senses, but not enough to put to any use - just vague feelings. Sorcerers are rare; there are less than 3,000 of us in the Coven. Witches are far more common; they are people with good use of one or two extra senses. They work in occupations such as medicine, which only requires the sense we call aura-empathy. People who have it to a lesser degree tend to be farmers and gardeners."

"That doesn't sound very magical."

"Plants have auras too. Aura-empathy is the most widespread of paranormal senses and it isn't totally blocked by iron. Some people on your islands must have had it, though they probably weren't aware of what it was. Senses are so personal. You assume everyone sees the world the same way you can - like with your tunnel vision. Think about it. Didn't you find some people were good at looking after plants... green-fingered?"

"Like my aunt Han." Tevi's face brightened. "I remember her shouting things like Any fool can see the peas need watering. It may have been obvious to her, it wasn't to the rest of us."

Jemeryl nodded. "That's a typical remark from someone who can see the aura of plants."

For the first time in days, Tevi smiled directly at Jemeryl. The sorcerer felt her heart lurch, but, before she could speak, Tevi's face hardened. The warrior spun and attacked the phantom with a ferocious slash. Taking the hint, Jemeryl rose and went upstairs to her study.

*****

Four afternoons later Jemeryl sat alone and disheartened. She slammed the book shut and shoved her chair back from the desk. The search for Abrak was going badly. So far, she had come up with only two possible names, both of which were later discounted. It seemed as if sorcerers disappeared inexplicably even less often than might be imagined. She thumped her fist on the cover of the book.

From a nearby perch, Klara looked on, critically. "You could always throw it at the wall if you think it would help."

Jemeryl closed her eyes and sighed. "Perhaps the Abrak story is a complete fantasy. I ought to have found something by now. You know what old legends are like, maybe the whole thing was someone's idea of a joke."

"And the chalice was just an old beer mug?" Klara was at her most ironic.

"No, you're right, that wouldn't make sense either. The chalice must be genuine; otherwise someone wouldn't have bothered sending the bird to get it. And the strength potion is genuine as well. You can see the effect on Tevi."

"And I can see the effect of Tevi on you. You're really keen on her, aren't you?"

"She doesn't want to know." The pain showed on Jemeryl's face. "I can't make her out. Most of the time she cold-shoulders me completely. Then, once in a while, her guard slips and she acts like she wants..." Jemeryl's voice trailed off in despair.

Klara stood on one leg and examined the claw on the other foot, like a woman regarding her fingernails. "And they have the nerve to call sorcerers temperamental. But I'm sure she'll make up her mind about you in the end."

"There isn't much time. Iralin only gave me twelve days and they're running out. Tevi's eyesight is improving rapidly. She'll be ready to leave soon and she's still determined I can't go with her. I've got my future in the Coven to consider."

"She can't stop you following her."

"I don't want her to be frightened of me. I want her to like me."

The magpie fixed Jemeryl with a cynical look. "Like?"

"If she can't manage anything else." Jemeryl's thoughts churned in the state of chaos that Tevi normally inspired. She buried her face in her hands.

"Gods, you've got it bad."

Goaded into action, Jemeryl sprung from the desk and marched to the bookcase. "I'm going to broaden my search. Maybe if I look at the background to the island folk there might be a few clues. My grandfather's history of Walderim is here somewhere."

A faint smile touched Jemeryl's face at the memory of the old man, the only one of her blood kin who had not been frightened of her when she was a child, the only one she had any fondness for. He had come from Walderim and had pretensions of being a scholar, hence his history. The only good memories she had from her childhood were of him and her foster-mother, the witch. The only items from her birthplace she still had with her were the copy of his book, given as a present on the day she had left for Lyremouth, and a good-luck charm from her foster-mother. Jemeryl's own skill now far exceeded the elementary charm, and the book was not well-written; her grandfather's view of his talents had been rather inflated, but both items were a source of comfort when she was feeling low.

Jemeryl pulled the volume from the shelf, and hugged it to her tightly, her eyes closed. She felt in desperate need of comfort right now. Then, with a resolute expression, she returned to the table and opened the cover.

*****

After sunset, that evening, the two women wrapped themselves in thick cloaks and went for a walk around the battlements. It was the nearest thing to being out in daylight for Tevi since the bandage had been removed. She leaned against the stone palisade and gazed at the panorama on the opposite side of the valley. Distant ice-capped mountains faded away into soft purple shadows. A few faint stars glinted in the dark blue sky overhead. Beside her, Jemeryl tried to hide her nervousness; she was not looking forward to the coming conversation.

"Do you think I'll be able to leave soon?" Tevi asked.

"In a day or two. You could probably go tomorrow if it isn't sunny."

"Oh." Unaccountably, Tevi seemed deflated by the answer.

Jemeryl rested her arms on the parapet and peered over. The road passing under the castle walls was more mud than snow. Soon Tevi would be riding along it, leaving the valley. The issue would have to be forced. She had hoped for definite information before she spoke, but her search was running out of time.

In her most decisive voice she said, "I'm going with you when you leave."

"You can't." Tevi was equally determined.

"Why not?"

Tevi fiddled with the ties on her cloak, in obvious distress. At last, she said, "Because the quest is a wild goose chase. I haven't got a hope of finding the chalice and there was no expectation of me doing it from the start. I told you I was an embarrassment to my family. The quest was just an excuse to go away and get lost."

Tevi's words described a scenario even bleaker than the one Jemeryl had expected, and there was still something that did not tie in. "That was due to your tunnel vision. Now your eyes are fixed you'll be able to hold your own on the islands."

"Maybe not."

"Even so, you can prove it isn't your fault." Jemeryl insisted.

Tevi shrugged. "Anyway it doesn't matter. I don't know how to find the chalice."

"Which is why you need me with you. I can make a good guess as to why the chalice was stolen and that gives me a start in knowing where to look."

"What do you mean?"

"Abrak must have been a herbalist, so her chalice would have been made of crystalline silver. It's known a memory chalice. Herbalists work a lot by trial and error, with luck and accidents playing a part. They add a bit of one thing, then another, watching how the potion blends in the fifth dimension. By the time they get the mixture right they've usually forgotten exactly what they put in. A memory chalice works like a magical notebook. You can retrieve the formula for anything that has ever been made in the vessel. That's why someone would have gone to the effort of tracking down the chalice and snatching it. They must want to reproduce some of her work. All I have to do is work out who Abrak was and find out what her interests were. Then we go to whoever's working in that area. Herbalists exchange information between themselves, so even if the sorcerer we select isn't the one who took the chalice, they'll have a good idea who was."

"But whoever it is won't just give the chalice back."

"No reason why not. They must have found out what they wanted to know by now, so they'll have no further need for the chalice."

"It's not that simple." Tevi's voice was raw with despair.

Jemeryl would not be put off. "Yes it is, but you need me with you."

"Please believe me. I've got reasons I can't tell you. You can't come with me." Tevi's agitation was growing by the second.

Jemeryl did not have the option to compromise. "I'm afraid I have to."

"I don't want you with me." Tevi turned to flee the battlements. "I'm going back inside."

"I'm not such bad company, am I?" Jemeryl said softly.

Tevi froze at the head of the steps leading down to the courtyard, but did not turn back. "It's nothing to do with... It's not your fault, but you can't with me. I'm sorry." She disappeared down the stairs. Her footsteps faded away into the dusk.

"Tevi dashing off like that is getting a bit monotonous." Klara commented from a perch on the battlements.

Jemeryl leaned against the wall and stared blankly at the stars. Somehow, she had managed to alienate Tevi. Jemeryl did not have the first idea of what she had done wrong, but it was obvious that she had made mistakes as fundamental as those with the villagers.

The likely consequences if she returned to the Coven alone, and explained that the warrior had refused her company did not make for pleasant contemplation. One failure to discharge a duty was bad - two in the space of a month would be catastrophic. The authorities would be certain to withdraw her title of sorcerer and assign her to a punishment duty.

"You'd be lucky to get off with spending the next five years cleaning out the Coven latrines."

Jemeryl suspected Klara's flippant comment was nothing short of the truth. "I have no choice. I've got to go with her, whether she wants me or not."

*****

Mid-afternoon on the following day found Tevi in the courtyard, playing a fast moving game of tag with the bears. The sky was overcast, easy on her eyes. The world still wobbled when she twisted quickly, but Tevi no longer found it so disconcerting. With practice she was confident she would be able to make full use of her new expanded vision and, even now, Tevi was aware how much easier it was to avoid the bears. Trees no longer threw themselves into her path as she dodged.

Tevi hurdled over Ruff's back. After a last race past the porch of the great hall, she charged through the door to the kitchens and collapsed, out of breath, in front of the massive fireplace. The two bears lumbered in, also breathing heavily. Tumble flopped down at one side with a snort, while Ruff rolled onto his back, wanting his stomach scratched. He rumbled in pleasure when Tevi obliged.

Running her fingers through the thick fur was soothing. Tevi felt in need of something to calm her thoughts, now she was no longer occupied by the game. Her eyes were almost completely healed. The dull light had caused no discomfort; she could probably withstand sunshine. There was no reason to delay departure, yet the thought of saying good-bye was unbearable. Jemeryl's request to go with her was the final twist of the knife, but it was a risk Tevi dare not take.

Tevi's face knotted in a grimace as she explained to Ruff. "It's not that I don't want her with me. It's that I want her too much, and in all the wrong sort of ways. I've got to get away."

Ruff's stubby tail beat enthusiastically against the floor. He had no idea of what she had said.

Tevi got to her feet, and walked to the kitchen door. Directly opposite, on the far side of the courtyard, were the castle gates.

"Where do I go?" Tevi whispered to herself.

In the first case, it was an easy question to answer - the Rizen guild-house, where she could collect Harrick's pay and return the pony. >From there she could secure another contract, which might take her anywhere in the world. But to what purpose? How much longer was she willing to run?

Of course, it assumed she would be allowed to leave the castle alone. Jemeryl's request was shifting from an offer to a demand. Should it become an order, Tevi could not legitimately refuse. The word of a Coven sorcerer was law in the Protectorate. So far, Jemeryl had made no attempt to use her status - but she could.

Tevi's only hope would be if her guild-masters made a direct appeal to the Guardian, which they were most unlikely to do. The fate of a sorcerer's magic chalice was clearly a valid Coven concern. If the assistance of one junior mercenary was required, the guild would not refuse - it was very doubtful they would even bother asking for a formal contract.

But if she were to leave the castle in secret, pack her things that night and be gone, what would Jemeryl do? Would she come looking for her ungrateful patient, or go after the chalice herself? Tevi had no idea why Jemeryl was so interested, but obviously the chalice held considerable significance for the sorcerer. If she found the thing she was welcome to keep it - Tevi made no claim of ownership.

Tevi left the kitchen door and crossed the courtyard. Her footsteps echoed in the enclosed space. The gatehouse formed an arch over the entrance. Jemeryl had no need of the portcullis it had once housed, and now only two wooden gates barred the way. There were no locks that Tevi could see - no bolts or bars. However, she had only one way to check for magic. Tevi caught hold of the rope hanging on the inside and pulled the gate open. If an alarm sounded Tevi could not hear it.

Bracken covered hillside rolled down to where trees breached the ruined outer wall of the castle. Snow still lay in sheltered corners, but spring was clearly on the way. The weather was warmer. A mild wind from the south had sprung up overnight, bringing rolls of heavy cloud. There seemed to be nothing to stop her going. Tevi took one hesitant step through the gateway, then another.

Without warning Jemeryl's voice rang out. "Tevi. Come here."

A selection of excuses rushed through Tevi's head. Heart pounding, she returned to the courtyard. Jemeryl's head was poked through one of the windows to the small tower. As nonchalantly as she could manage, Tevi trotted over to stand beneath.

"What is it?"

"Tevi. Come up here. I've found her. I've found Abrak."

*****

Jemeryl stood waiting excitedly outside the door to her study, on the landing at the top of the stairs in the great hall."I've found her. Come and see." Jemeryl called, as soon as she saw Tevi enter below. "And I take back all my sceptical remarks. I think your story is entirely true - almost."

Tevi took the stairs two at a time and followed the Jemeryl into the study. She pulled over a stool and sat at the other side of the large desk in the centre of the room.

"What have you found?" Tevi asked.

"Abrak, she was a herbalist from the school at Ekranos." Jemeryl's finger tapped on an open page. "That much I could have guessed. But her real name was Lorimal."

"She's mentioned in your books?"

"Not nearly as much as I'd have expected. I'm surprised there isn't more written about her - if only as a cautionary tale. But there's no doubt she's the one."

"What makes you so sure?"

"She was last seen 152 years ago, paddling a small boat, and talking to the seaweed off the shores of Walderim. More than that, she's probably the only person in history who could have made the potion in the way your story says. Everything ties in. Her speciality was potions producing permanent changes in body functions. As a young woman she was starting to make quite a name for herself, but then she made her big mistake." Jemeryl looked up from the book on her desk. "I told you how herbalists work by watching the harmonics of auras in the fifth dimension and projecting their observations back though the underlying planes?"

Tevi's face screwed into a bemused frown. "Well, maybe."

"Lorimal wanted to improve the process, so she developed a potion to give her intrinsic empathy with plants. After she'd taken it she could look at a plant and intuitively deconstruct its aura."

"She could do what?" Tevi was clearly struggling to keep up.

"She said the plants talked to her." Jemeryl was aware that she was being even less coherent that usual, in her excitement.

"You said she made a mistake."

"The mistake was that after taking the potion she empathised totally with plants, and there was no antidote. Have you ever tried talking to someone who thinks like a daffodil?"

"My great-aunt Wirry?" Tevi suggested, after a few moments getting her head around the concept.

Jemeryl threw her head back and laughed. "I'm sure your aunt isn't in the same league. What happened to Lorimal was her view on life changed so utterly she could no longer relate to humans. Your ancestors assumed exposure had addled her wits, but actually, it seems to have shocked her into the sanest frame of mind she'd had for decades. After Lorimal had used the potion on herself, she carried on charging around the Protectorate, doing all manner of things, but it was impossible for anyone to understand her reasons. The only thing she invented with any known use was a cure for a type of mould that infects wheat in the eastern plains. One of the ingredients is a small amount of the farmer's own blood. Some say it shows the way her mind was running - most herbalists use plant extracts to heal people, she used people extracts to heal plants."

"That makes some sort of sense."

"It was the only thing that did. Apparently, she once spent four months, standing in a garden belonging to a weaver in Davering, acting like a rose bush. Don't ask me why she didn't starve to death, the book didn't explain, nor did it say what the weaver thought of it, but it's no more bizarre than most of the other things Lorimal did. However there's plenty of evidence to show she'd have been quite capable of creating your strength potion, complete with gender bias. Her abilities were phenomenal, it's tragic they went to so little use - from a human point of view."

"Why would anyone want her chalice?"

"Perhaps someone's got a turnip they want a chat with?" Klara interjected.

Jemeryl grinned at the magpie before continuing. "I'd guess it's more likely they're after some of her earlier work, though I can't find any information about what that was. As I said before, I'm surprised Lorimal is so overlooked. I came across her name by chance in a history of Walderim written by my grandfather, and he was more concerned with whimsical anecdotes than herbalism. Lorimal hardly appears in any of my other books."

"So it doesn't help us find out who took the chalice."

"Lorimal's name is a good starting point." Jemeryl managed to keep her voice level, even though her hopes soared at Tevi's use of the word 'us'. "The best thing would be for you and me to go to Lyremouth. There's bound to be more information in the Coven library. It shouldn't take long to dig it out."

Tevi's brief burst of enthusiasm died. Her eyes fixed on the desk and she dug at the grain with her fingernail. "That's if I bother trying to find the chalice. I'm sorry Jem, but you can't come with me."

"I have to."

"I don't want company."

It was the old stalemate. Jemeryl's patience snapped. "It doesn't matter what you want, my superiors have ordered me to go."

"What's it to them?" Tevi asked defensively.

Instead of answering immediately, Jemeryl kicked her chair back from the desk and stalked across to the window. She stared out over the valley. Ten days before she would not have dreamed telling the whole truth to a common ungifted citizen. Now her emotions were so raw that the thought of losing face before Tevi was irrelevant. But would it help? Jemeryl took a deep breath and turned back to face the room.

"I wasn't told why." Jemeryl spoke in a bleak monotone. "My mentor contacted me a few hours before you came to the castle. She told me about you and the basilisk. She said that when you left I had to go with you. She also took the opportunity to tell me I'm a disgrace to the Coven."

"What!"

"Reports from the village have got back to Lyremouth."

"But the villagers have got you all wrong."

"It's nice you think that, but I wasn't able to convince my mentor. She tore me to shreds. I've been removed from my post in the valley and ordered to go with you and help you on your quest. So I'm going with you and that's the end of it."

Tevi face fell in dismay. Her eyes darted around the room, as if desperately seeking inspiration. "You have helped. You've found Lorimal's name. I could go to Lyremouth on my own and ask someone there to do the rest."

Jemeryl shrugged. "If I don't leave the valley with you, I might as well go straight to Lyremouth anyway. They like you to be there in person when your case is taken before the disciplinary tribunal."

"You wouldn't be punished?"

"Disobeying a direct order? Of course I would."

"What would happen to you?"

"I'm trying hard not to think about it." Jemeryl left the window and came back at the desk, again taking the seat opposite Tevi. "But it isn't going to happen, as I'm going with you."

Tevi licked her lips nervously. "Perhaps you could come as far as Lyremouth. When we're there I can explain that I don't want you with me."

"That will go down nearly as well as me deserting you."

"Why?"

"I was hauled over the coals for upsetting the locals. Now I've done the same with you. I don't know how." Jemeryl's head sank; her voice dropped as well. "Would it help if I said sorry?"

"You haven't upset me. You've been really nice."

"Oh sure. You think I'm so wonderful you can't stand being in my presence."

"That's not so far from the truth." Tevi mumbled.

"What?"

"Nothing."

Jemeryl buried her face in her hands. When she spoke her voice was quietly desperate. "Tevi, please. Tell me what I've done to offend you. Give me the chance to put things right."

"You haven't done anything."

"Tevi, come on." Jemeryl pleaded. "You can't stop me following you, but I can't stop you saying what you will to my superiors. If you're going to destroy my position in the Coven and wreck my life, you at least owe me an explanation."

Tevi slumped backwards. Her knuckles were white where her hands curled into fists on the tabletop. At last, she blurted out, "It's not you. It's me."

"What is?"

"It's me. I'm not fit company for any woman."

"Don't be stupid."

"No. It's true. The quest for the chalice was a sham. It was just a way to exile me, while saving my family the embarrassment of a public trial."

She's murdered someone. It was the first thought to shoot through Jemeryl's head, followed quickly by disbelief. There was no trace of malicious violence in Tevi. It must have been an accident, or a mistake, or something else. Who could tell what the barbarian legal code of the islands might be.

In a whisper, Jemeryl asked, "What did you do?"

"It was what they thought I was going to do."

Jemeryl frowned. "Be sensible. Even Coven seers don't punish people for what they're going to do, and prophecy wouldn't work on your islands - not with the iron."

"They were right." Tevi said, anguished.

"If I'm any judge of character, you're a decent, honest person." Jemeryl said earnestly. "I don't know what you think you were about to do, but I can't believe it was anything that bad. Even if it were, it wouldn't matter. The Coven leaders have some reason for wanting me to go with you. I can't see them being put off by a crime that hasn't yet been committed, in a land outside their jurisdiction."

"Wouldn't they want to protect you from me?"

Even in the overwrought atmosphere, Jemeryl had to restrain the urge to laugh. "I think you'd have difficulty persuading them you presented any threat to me. I don't mean to imply that you're not a formidable warrior, but I'm a sorcerer. A dozen of you couldn't..." Jemeryl's voice broke off as she tried to find some logic in what had been said. "Tevi, you're not making sense. What is this crime you're going to commit? How could you harm me?"

There was a long silence. When Tevi finally spoke her voice was a dry whisper. "I have a problem with men." She stared bleakly at nothing. Her eyes were devoid of fight, and of hope.

Jemeryl tried to understand. "I'm sure the same could be said for most of the women on your islands."

"No, it's different... I'm not sure how to explain." Tevi looked as if she was trying to swallow. "There were slang terms on the islands, crude ones. I've not tried to find out what your words are for it. I thought it best to avoid the subject completely."

Jemeryl opened her mouth to speak, but then closed it again. Tevi was clearly finding things difficult enough without interruptions. Better to let her take her own time.

Tevi continued, picking her words deliberately. "I feel about other women the way a normal woman would only feel about men. In my heart I can only..."

The struggle to say that much had left Tevi shaking. She leaned forward over the desk and rested her head on her hands. However, Jemeryl was no more the wiser. It was plain to see the confession had taken a lot of effort but, despite turning the words around in her head, Jemeryl could produce no interpretation that was not totally absurd.

"I'm sorry Tevi. I don't understand what you mean." Jemeryl spoke as gently as she could.

"Don't play games with me." Tevi's torment gave way to anger. She sprung to her feet, knocking over her chair. In three steps, she had reached the door.

Jemeryl could not allow Tevi to escape. A pull on the sixth dimension tensors sent the bolt on the door sliding into its socket and all of Tevi's superhuman strength could not get it to budge. After a few futile attempts Tevi let her hands drop and turned around slowly to face the sorcerer.

Jemeryl had not moved from her chair. Quietly she said, "I'm sorry, but believe me, I'm not playing games. This is much too important to me."

"Jem..." Tevi begged.

"I really don't know what you mean."

Tevi slumped against the door, breathing in deep gulps. She closed her eyes and swallowed. "I'm physically attracted to other women, not men. I fall in love with them. I can't help it. It's women that I want sexually. And right now I want..." Tevi's words died in a grimace of pain. She twisted around to face the barred door, resting the palms of her hands on the wooden planks. "Please let me go."

There was utter, desolate despair in Tevi's voice. Regardless of the answers she needed, Jemeryl could not refuse the appeal. The bolt moved back. Tevi tore open the door and fled. Her footsteps sounded loudly on the stairs and away.

Behind her in the study, Jemeryl stared through the open doorway. She was still not certain she understood the full significance, but Tevi's confession had struck a chord with something she had read earlier that morning. Thoughtfully, Jemeryl pulled her grandfather's history book towards her and thumbed back several chapters.

The section she wanted was a lengthy extract from a 250-year-old report by a Coven sorcerer named Bolitho. It had been made in the mistaken expectation of Walderim imminently joining the Protectorate. In the guise of an itinerant healer, Bolitho had travelled throughout Walderim, while preparing extensive notes on the inhabitants. Some of Bolitho's analysis reflected ideologies, fashionable at the time, which were no longer accepted. However, he had been a conscientious and thorough observer, and one of his findings seemed to offer the explanation Jemeryl needed. It took a few seconds to find the part of Bolitho's report she wanted, relating to gender stereotyping.

Jemeryl settled down to read.

~~~~~~~~

Inherent to a hereditary culture has to be the belief in the inborn superiority of the ruling elite. Other groups in society have their value and assumed abilities assigned on a descending scale, with the lowest sections relegated to subhuman status. In Walderim, the main groups to suffer from this have been women and migrant workers from the north.

The position of women is especially bleak, partly due to the widely held belief that, instead of being distinguished by minor statistical variations, the characters of the two sexes are in some way diametrically opposed. In fact, the phrase 'the opposite sex' is in common usage. There is a refusal even to accept that a male sorcerer has vastly more in common with a female sorcerer than with an ungifted man (although I strongly suspect that this will change quickly once Walderim joins the Protectorate).

This results in an almost comical need to exaggerate any perceived gender difference into an unbreakable law of nature. For example, a local will categorically state, "men are taller than women". If I point out that only a small average difference exists and the divergence is such that many women are taller than many men, I am meet with animosity, as if I am being deliberately perverse.

This may at first seem amusing, but in practice it is quite odious. People's lives are made miserable if their stature is such as to challenge the assertions about gender and height. It is as if tall women or short men have committed an indiscretion and are deserving of derision or censure. With personality traits, such as aggression or compassion, which are harder to measure objectively and seen as under the individual's control (despite the contradiction with the idea that they are fixed by nature), the extent of the assumed polarisation and culpability is intensified. It is a brave person who refuses to distort their personality by pretending to match their gender stereotype.

I had a conversation with one of their 'philosophers'. He explained how the universe was divided into male and female principles. Male was active, light, hard; female was passive, dark, soft, etc. We had this conversation sitting on the trunk of a fallen tree. I found a male and female wood-louse in the rotten wood and asked the philosopher to illustrate these two opposed 'universal' principles, using the wood-lice as examples. The philosopher then accused me of being absurd!

Other people in Walderim are open to the argument that the gender stereotyping of their culture is almost entirely artificial. Yet, by adulthood, the beliefs have been ingrained on a subconscious level and, despite their better logic, they cannot disengage their cultural perceptions. However much they might value courage and independence they are still more socially comfortable ridiculing an assertive woman than they are respecting her, since, needless to say, the majority of positive character traits are seen as male. For women to assume an active role in the society they will first need to overcome the stigma of being 'unfeminine'.

The enforced divergence of the sexes has one other inevitable side effect. It has been observed that everyone is romantically attracted to a reasonably narrow spectrum of personality type, normally centred around a few key traits. Since children in Walderim are raised to see the characters of men and women as diametrically opposite, it follows that anyone seeking a long-term partner will perceive their idealised mate as falling into an exclusively male or female pattern. I strongly suspect that very few raised in this culture will be capable of falling passionately in love with persons of either sex.

This would be of no more than incidental interest were it not for strict local doctrines forbidding erotic relationships between people of the same gender. Such relationships are claimed to be corrupt, deviant and 'unnatural'.

During my time in Walderim I have been discreetly approached by many with an exclusive attraction to people of their own gender, who wish me to 'cure' them. I have been astonished by the extent to which they believe their culture's doctrine to be a natural principle, despite the evidence of their own emotions. They agree that people are right to despise them. They despise themselves.

The first time the request was made of me, I made the mistake of telling the man that, while in the Protectorate, my own lovers had in no way been restricted to women. I offered to let him accompany me when I returned. Instead of the relief I expected, the man accused me of trying to turn Walderim into a "decadent" region like the Protectorate. To my astonishment, he told me in an impassioned speech that, "some people still know what normal behaviour is". His attack changed from verbal to physical, and I was obliged to defend myself. He then resorted to denouncing me to the rest of his tribe, claiming I had tried to "defile" him.

I can conclude by saying that of all the things I have found in Walderim, this is the one that has surprised me the most. I was prepared to find people held in a state of subservience and those in power enforcing their beliefs on the less fortunate. However, this self-oppression has left me dumbfounded.

Even where people of different genders are attracted to each other, the result is less than satisfactory from a Protectorate viewpoint. As each partner has to try to conform to their own gender stereotype, and may only appreciate their partner as the opposite stereotype, it seems impossible that they can ever really know their lover. "My wife doesn't understand me." is a cliché so common as to be a joke. It is all quite astonishing and also very sad.

Eliminating the exploitation of migrant workers from the north of Walderim is also likely to encounter some problems...

~~~~~~~~

Jemeryl scanned the rest of the extract quickly, but nothing further of relevance was to be found. At the end of the chapter were a few additional comments from her grandfather, which stated that the conditions described by Bolitho had largely disappeared in Walderim, although echoes remained, particularly among the lower social orders.

Jemeryl pushed the book away, and sat for a while in thought. "I guess that explains what Tevi was going on about. The clans would have taken their beliefs with them when they fled to the islands. And it explains her tortured attitude. It must be awful, to believe that you're evil and depraved, and unable to do anything about it." Jemeryl spoke quietly. "Poor Tevi."

"So what do you to do now?" Klara fluttered down to land on the open pages.

"I don't know. If Tevi has absorbed her society's morality in the fashion described by Bolitho there's no hope of persuading her to change her mind. But it still doesn't explain why she doesn't want me to go with her. Although I suppose she might be worried I'll try to seduce her."

"That's not a totally groundless fear on her part."

Jemeryl shook her head slowly. "It doesn't match the feel of Tevi's words. It was as if she expected me to be shocked by her confession."

"Bolitho described a pretty strange mind set. From what he wrote, you wouldn't expect Tevi to be able to accept the personal freedom offered by the Protectorate. Perhaps the island's culture is so ingrained in her that she has to accredit the same ethics to others, even when she must know they won't share them."

"Maybe. But there has to be some way around it."

"On to a new field of enquiry." Klara said, brightly.

Jemeryl pushed back her chair and headed to the bookcase. She plucked a tall, thin volume from the top shelf. "Somewhere in here is a section on the perpetuation of cultural ethics by transferred guilt, considered as an imbalance in fifth dimensional perspective fields."

"I suppose you've got nothing about the utilisation of incomprehensible terms by sorcerers, considered as an nervous reflex under pressure?"

"No, but I might have a recipe for roast magpie somewhere."

Chapter 6: Clueless

Night had fallen by the time Jemeryl finished reading. Before leaving the study, she stood a long while at the window, staring at the moon riding between ragged clouds over the mountains. She had found a lot of ominous warnings but very little in the way of helpful advice. Talking to Tevi was going to be very difficult. Apart from wanting to avoid causing Tevi any further distress, Jemeryl had the nagging feeling that an important piece of information was still missing.

Jemeryl paused outside the parlour door and tried to compose herself before confronting Tevi. The castle was so silent she could hear the thudding of her heartbeat. She opened the door and stepped inside. The only light came from the red flicker of the fire. The chairs were all empty. Jemeryl almost turned to leave, but then spotted Tevi, who sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the open hearth, staring bleakly into the flames.

Tevi did not move at the sound of the door opening and closing. Jemeryl came to a halt a few steps into the room.

"Tevi?" Jemeryl said softly.

There was no response.

"I'd like to talk to you."

"If you want - I'm finished with running." Tevi answered apathetically.

Hesitantly, Jemeryl advanced towards the fireplace and slipped into a chair at one side. Tevi's eyes remained fixed on the hearth. The flames lit her face in profile; her expression was one of absolute desolation. All of Jemeryl's carefully planed questions evaporated at the sight. Jemeryl knew she was way out of her depth. She was going to have to start talking, keeping her words and tone as neutral as possible, and hope an acceptable resolution could be found.

"Tevi... what you said, in the study. I've been looking at my books. I think I'm beginning to understand, but I'm still unclear in parts. I wonder if you... if we could sort things out."

Tevi's lips compressed in a twisted line and the muscles bunched in her jaw. "What is there to sort out?"

"Well... from what you've said, on your islands men and women have strictly differentiated roles." Jemeryl spoke in a general search for inspiration. "What are your feelings about the way people relate to each other on the mainland?"

"It doesn't help, if that's what you mean." Tevi replied bitterly.

"In what way?"

Confusion gave Tevi her first spark of life. "Pardon?"

"In what way doesn't it help? If that's not a silly question."

Tevi glanced in Jemeryl's direction, as if to judge the seriousness of her expression. "It confuses me. All the men look and act like women. It's often impossible for me to tell them apart. But I've found it best not to make the effort. If I become too mindful that someone is a man, they usually end up complaining that I'm treating them like an idiot. So, I try to act as if they're all women, but I can only push the pretence so far. Inside I know they're not really women, and I'm not... attracted to them like women."

"That wasn't quite what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?"

"I've been reading about the history of Walderim, back at the time when your people left the mainland. Apparently, your ancestors found the Protectorate attitude to sexual relationships to be abhorrent. I suppose you feel the same?"

"No. Why should I? If anything, it's better than in the islands. When I see couples, like Verron and Marith, I think they're sweet. They treat each other as equals. So much so that, like I said before, often I can't tell which is the woman and which is the man. It must be nice to have a lover who can also be a friend."

Jemeryl ran her hand through her hair, confused by Tevi's response. It tied in with nothing she had read or expected, unless Tevi was wilfully side-stepping the issue as a defensive strategy - in which case things might get explosive if Jemeryl prodded too far, but she had to try. Quietly she asked. "So if there's a couple who are both the same sex, how do you feel about them?"

"You're asking me?"

"Yes."

It looked as if Tevi bit back her first intended retort. Her mouth clamped shut and she stared into the flames while rephrasing her response. "If I met such a couple and realised?" She paused. "It would hardly be my place to condemn them. I suppose I'd mind my own business and pretend I'd noticed nothing - which shouldn't be hard. It's not likely they'd be brazenly advertising what they were doing."

Comprehension caught Jemeryl by surprise. She slumped back in her chair and her eyes fixed on the ceiling. Firelight chased shadows between the wooden beams while her mind raced, adding together the odd comments and the conjectures. It seemed as if things might just tie together after all. However, Bolitho's experience warned against optimism. Locked in her culture's inflexible beliefs, Tevi had been unable to even see what was happening in the Protectorate, let alone accept it.

"What else do you want to know?" Tevi broke the silence.

"Actually I was thinking about tunnel vision. More as a metaphor than a medical complaint."

"What do you mean? My eyes are fine now."

Instead of replying immediately, Jemeryl sat, reviewing her options - not that there were many. Despite what had happened to Bolitho, she had to take the risk of enlightening Tevi.

"But you only see part of the picture." Jemeryl dropped her gaze from the ceiling. "I told you I spent this afternoon reading my books, including a history of Walderim?"

"Yes."

"Part of what I read was written by a sorcerer who visited there, 250 years ago. He reported a warrior society, very similar to yours, except for the gender switch-around due to Lorimal's potion. Your confession would have made no sense to me, if I hadn't read the account of his travels. What you said reminded me of some odd requests for medical treatment he'd received, from some individuals who complained they were sexually attracted to people of their own gender."

"You mean you can cure it?"

The intensity in Tevi's voice left Jemeryl speechless. It was a few seconds before she found her voice. "I don't know. It would honestly never have occurred to me to try."

"What did this sorcerer do?"

"He advised them to move to the Protectorate, where it wouldn't matter what sex their lovers were."

Jemeryl anxiously awaited the response to the statement but, instead of a violent outburst, Tevi only looked puzzled. "Why would he say that?"

"Because it was true - and it still is. Having an exclusive preference for one gender is a bit unusual, but no one is going to get upset about it."

Tevi stared in bewilderment.

Carefully Jemeryl asked. "You said you stayed with Sergo and her son, in their cottage. Who else lived there?"

"Her sister."

"Who told you it was her sister?"

"Well maybe not her sister, but she was a close relative. They..." Tevi's words died.

Jemeryl held her breath, trying to guess which way Tevi's reaction would go. She wished Bolitho's report could give her more grounds to hope.

For a while, only unspoken questions formed on Tevi's lips. Eventually she found her voice. "But you can't let the world run like that."

"Why not?"

"You need a woman and a man to have children." Tevi was starting to sound heated, although not violent.

Attempting to keep things calm, Jemeryl went for a reasoned, practical response. "That's true, but were babies in short supply in your village? Because the reverse problem is generally much more common. Even with potions to help prevent unintended pregnancies, most relationships where the partners are of different sexes produce twice as many children as they're able to care for. Families hope some of their members will settle with a partner of the same sex to provide homes for the rest. For example, Sergo's son was born to her brother."

"But it isn't..."

Tevi's voice faded as a confused kaleidoscope of emotions chased across her face, yet inflamed moral outrage did not appear to be one. Jemeryl decided to risk a few further comments. "When you made your confession this afternoon, I couldn't see why you thought it would upset me. What I now don't understand is how you could have spent a year on the mainland without noticing the way Protectorate families operate. It defies belief - even with the problem you have telling men and women apart."

"You're being serious? It's not part of..."

"Totally serious."

"But what do..." Again, Tevi's voice trailed away. She pressed one hand against her forehead. Her eyes would not meet Jemeryl's, but for the first time they seemed to be fully focused on the room around her.

Despite Tevi's obvious emotional turmoil, Jemeryl was starting to relax slightly. There were many other things they had to discuss, such as the quest, but it could be left until morning. It would be better if Tevi had time to think on her own. There seemed to be hope that the islander might overturn her upbringing and reach a rational conclusion.

Jemeryl got to her feet and walked to the door. "I'm going to bed. Perhaps if you sleep on it we'll be able to talk things through tomorrow."

Tevi nodded in a dazed fashion. Jemeryl left her in a position, virtually unchanged from how she'd found her, still cross-legged on the floor, still staring into the flames, but now the expression of hopeless despair had gone.

*****

A quick check when Jemeryl awoke the next day revealed that Tevi was still asleep in her room. There was no indication of how long she had sat up thinking, or what the end result had been. Hoping for the best, Jemeryl begun to prepare for departure - there was much in the castle that would require careful dismantling.

It was just before midday when Tevi emerged from her room, looking rather sheepish. Jemeryl prepared a meal for them, by re-heating the stew that had been intended for the previous night's supper. She limited her comments to the mundane, waiting for the other woman to open the discussion. It did not take long.

"I've been thinking." Tevi said, between mouthfuls.

"I'd rather thought you would. What conclusions have you reached?"

"That a lot of things fall into place - things Kimal told me; things I heard and saw in the guildhall; jokes I didn't understand; lots of small details and the assumptions I made. Like a friend of mine, Cayell, talking of big papa and little papa. I just thought 'big papa' was a wordplay on 'grandfather'."

"So now you've thought it over, how do you feel about the depraved behaviour of the Protectorate?" Jemeryl kept her tone light, although it was the most fundamental, if not the most important, of the three questions she wanted to ask.

"I feel I ought to be shocked, but somehow I'm not." Tevi answered thoughtfully. "There have been so many things that were accepted without question on the islands, which don't hold true on the mainland. This is just one more. I'm not sure what it means for me though."

It was a much calmer appraisal than Bolitho's report had led Jemeryl to expect. With considerable relief, she moved on to her second question. "Might one off the things it means be that you don't object to me accompanying you on your quest?"

"I think I've... um. Sure, I don't mind." Tevi gave a half shrug and started toying with the food in front of her. Something else was clearly on her mind. Jemeryl let her take her time. "Does everyone in the Protectorate take lovers from both sexes?"

Jemeryl had the impression that Tevi was skirting around her real question. She answered carefully. "That would be a bit sweeping. I guess we all have preferences - some go for blondes, some for women, some for manual workers. It's not anyone else's business."

"What about you?" Tevi eyes were fixed on her plate.

The breath caught in Jemeryl's throat. Her third question might be rapidly approaching, however Bolitho's experience warned her to proceed with caution. "Um... yes. As an apprentice in Lyremouth, I had affairs with my fellow students, both male and female. It wasn't important to me which they were." she said, adding mentally as long as they were tall and dark-haired.

"When we leave, do you still think we should start by going to Lyremouth?"

Jemeryl did not know whether to be relieved or disappointed by Tevi's abrupt change of subject, but there would be plenty more opportunities for questions.

"Yes."

"Is there anything we need to get ready?"

"A few extra supplies for the journey. If you go to collect some from the village, you can also reassure the locals you're safe and give them the good news that I'm going. You can take my pony to help carry. While you're gone, I'll clear up the more hazardous magical bits and pieces I've got around the place. There's no real risk but it would be safest if you weren't here."

"What do we want?"

"Depends on what's going. Use your own judgement. Why don't you take Klara? If you get stuck you could send her back with a message."

A short while later, Jemeryl stood alone on the castle battlements, watching Tevi ride down the overgrown path leading to the village. The ponies and rider disappeared through a gap in the outer walls of the castle. Jemeryl sedately descended the steps and entered the great hall. She paced to the centre of the room, and stood looking gravely around her at the piles of equipment. Then her composure broke and a huge grin swept across her face. A volley of fireballs erupted from her fingertips as she indulged in a sorcerer's pyrotechnic display of delight.

*****

By early evening, the great hall and study had been emptied - a considerable achievement even though one small sack was all there was to show for it. Jemeryl smiled as she deposited the bag in a corner of the parlour. It was not so much packing as pushing matter into a suitable dimension. The bag was a gateway rather than a container. However, it was not quite such a useful trick as the ungifted might imagine. It had taken only half a day to dispose of the equipment, but would take much painstaking time and effort to unpack. Several reckless sorcerers had been killed by the impact of their own belongings, exploding through a carelessly opened dimensional gate.

There was still no sign of Tevi. Jemeryl was wondering whether she should have something to eat or wait a while longer, when Klara flew in through the open doorway.

"Message from Tevi."

"What is it?"

The magpie landed on the table and fluffed her feathers importantly. "Jem. The villagers want to throw a party in my honour. They kept insisting, so I agreed. Unless you've got objections I'll stay down here and bring the supplies up with me tomorrow." Klara spoke in a fair imitation of Tevi's lilting drawl.

"She's not coming back tonight?" Jemeryl asked, disappointed.

"That was the general drift of it. There's no point in me carrying messages if you don't listen."

"I just wanted confirmation. I was looking forward to seeing her."

Klara put her head on one side. "Do you want me to go back and say you've got objections?"

"Only if I can think of something plausible."

"You could go down and join the party. "

"I don't think that would be wise."

"Maybe not." Klara flew over and settled on Jemeryl's shoulder. "Never mind, she'll be back tomorrow."

Despondently, Jemeryl collected the crockery remaining from lunchtime and then walked slowly down to the kitchens, to prepare a lonely supper.

*****

Jemeryl sat in front of the fire in the parlour, flipping idly through the pages of a book. Ruff and Tumble lay asleep by her feet and Klara was perched on the arm of the chair. This was the way she had spent most evenings since her arrival in the valley, pursuing her studies. Tonight however, she could not concentrate on reading. Once again, her eyes drifted away from the lines of text.

A faint rustle from Klara recalled Jemeryl to the parlour. She reached out to stroke the magpie's downy throat. Firelight glittered in small black eyes, alive with the echo of Jemeryl's own intellect. Unlike the bears and squirrels, Klara was a true familiar. It was debatable whether she could even be considered a separate entity from the sorcerer. The bond was so close that, effectively, Jemeryl performed part of her thinking in the magpie's head.

Many sorcerers viewed taking a familiar as a dangerous affectation - affectation because the effort of maintaining the bond often outweighed the benefits, and dangerous because of the risk of becoming dependant on the animal. There were tales of sorcerers who had been killed by the shock when their familiar died unexpectedly, although in Jemeryl's opinion these stories were of dubious authenticity. Great care was needed in choosing a species; cats were virtually the only mammals worth considering, although many types of reptile and bird were suitable.

A magpie was an uncommon familiar, but Jemeryl was pleased with her choice. Klara's bird brain was surprisingly adept at complex calculations. There were also the useful abilities to fly and talk. A rueful expression crossed Jemeryl's face. Tevi's presence had made her realise how much she had fallen into the trap of treating Klara as a friend - playing the game of creating a sarcastic personality for the magpie. Talking to yourself was a bad habit, regardless of how you disguised it.

Jemeryl sighed, and then sat up straight. The book was snapped shut and discarded. Thought of Tevi had dispelled all hope of reading, but brought another idea to mind. Klara hopped off her perch and onto Jemeryl's lap. The sorcerer placed her forefingers on either side of the bird's head.

There was one further advantage to a familiar - Klara was permanently available for mind-riding. Jemeryl closed her eyes and blocked out her own senses. After a second of disorientation, she re-focused on the room, out of Klara's eyes. For a moment she studied her own relaxed human face, devoid of expression in the trance, then she leap upwards. Her wings caught the air and Jemeryl/Klara flew out of the room.

Noise and light were spilling from the half open doorway of the hall at the centre of the village. The gentle night breeze carried the magpie spiralling down, gliding over the huddled cottages to the spot where a large gap under the eaves let her into the hall. The magpie was invisible in the dark shadows beneath the thatched roof. Jemeryl took a perch on one of the rafters and settled down to watch the scene below, trying to ignore any pangs of guilt at such blatant snooping.

It looked as if the entire population of the valley was squeezed into the hall. The noise and confusion were such that it took a little time to spot Tevi, even with Klara's keen eyesight. Eventually Jemeryl saw her, surrounded by a group of admirers at the side of the room. To judge by her actions, Tevi was recounting the tale of the hunt for the basilisk. The young mercenary was obviously the toast of the village; children clustered around and a constant stream of people came to congratulate her. Jemeryl was amused to see Tevi's bashful response to all the attention.

Several young people were paying Tevi even more attention than the rest, their intentions clear. Jemeryl was unconcerned, even by the efforts of one young woman who was especially persistent. Tevi's general reticence, combined with Bolitho's experience, reassured Jemeryl that she was not about to face any imminent threat of competition.

The revelry in the hall got more boisterous as the night progressed. Several bodies, collapsed in a drunken stupor, littered the edges of the hall. Children were sent to their beds. From her vantage point, Jemeryl saw Tevi squeeze her way to the back of the hall, where the beer barrels were stacked. As Tevi refilled her tankard, the young woman again appeared at her side.

The pair talked as they moved to a clear spot on the floor. Tevi's neck was bent to catch what the shorter woman was saying over the hubbub. Jemeryl ruffled her feathers, hit by a twinge of jealousy. She did not need to hear the conversation to know that the villager was flirting outrageously. Whatever was said caused Tevi to look embarrassed, which she covered by taking a hasty gulp from her tankard.

"You're wasting your time, young lady." Jemeryl muttered quietly. "At least, I sincerely hope you are."

Unaware of the watcher above, the unknown villager brushed blond hair back from her face. Her eyes danced with amusement as she stepped closer to Tevi. Jemeryl confidently expected the mercenary to back off. Instead, Tevi very deliberately put her free arm around the woman and kissed her ardently on the lips.

There was a jarring storm of sensation, an impression of being torn, as Jemeryl wrenched herself back to the castle, leaving Klara to return on her own. The sudden dislocation made her nauseous. The parlour spun and then settled. Even before she was fully attuned to her surroundings, Jemeryl had lurched to her feet, disturbing the squirrels that had settled on her lap in her absence.

Jemeryl's first intention was to rush headlong down to the village; common sense stopped her. All knowledge of human nature told her that such an intrusion was highly unlikely to achieve good results. It was not possible to dismiss the villager and forcibly claim Tevi's affection - at least, not by any method the Coven permitted. There was nothing other than to leave Tevi and the villager free to do as they wished.

Jemeryl sunk back down into her chair. Summoning all her self-discipline, she tried to clear her thoughts and not think of Tevi, or of what might be going on in the village hall. Her efforts met with total failure. The night dragged by slowly while the fire in the parlour burned low. Klara returned from the village but wisely made no comment.

The image of Tevi, kissing the villager, kept slicing at Jemeryl's thoughts. Visions of what might follow stung like acid in the cuts. It became too much to bear. Jemeryl went to her stock of herbs and prepared a sleeping draught. Tomorrow I'll have Tevi back with me, she told herself, We'll leave the valley and the villager behind. It's pointless, to sit up all night, brooding. I'm going to sleep. Her face crumpled at the thought. Was it too much to hope that Tevi was also sleeping, considering what else she might be doing at that moment?

*****

The discordant honking of migrating geese woke Jemeryl at first light. She rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. Memories of the previous night flooded back. Jemeryl pulled a pillow over her face in a futile attempt to block them out. She then tossed the bedclothes aside and swung her feet onto the floor. It was a little before her normal time to rise, but there was no point in trying to get back to sleep.

Tevi should be returning soon. It might be wise to take time to prepare herself mentally for the meeting. Although preparations will be as much use as hiding my face in a pillow, she added silently.

Concentrating on the job of sorting and packing was hard, especially as time went by with no sign of Tevi. In the end, Jemeryl abandoned all pretence of working and stood by an upstairs window, watching the path to the village. An eternity seemed to pass before her vigil was rewarded with the sight of a lone rider leading a second pony towards the castle. Jemeryl leapt down the stairs and was waiting in the porch of the great hall when Tevi finally arrived in the courtyard.

Even before the pony came to a standstill, Tevi had slipped off its back and trotted over to greet Jemeryl, her broad smile reflecting obvious high spirits. "Sorry if I've kept you waiting, but I had a late night and overslept this morning."

It took all Jemeryl's self-control not to wince. "That's all right. I've been busy." It wasn't strictly true on either count.

To cover her threatened loss of composure Jemeryl began unsaddling the ponies, which allowed her to keep her face averted while they talked. The bears came out to assist as porters.

Tevi seemed unaware that anything might be wrong. "You missed a good party." she said brightly.

"I doubt my presence would have added to the general merriment."

"I suppose some of the villagers might have been a bit unsettled."

"To put it mildly."

"I tried explaining that you're not dangerous."

"Did they believe you?"

"Perhaps if you'd been there..." Tevi paused. "I didn't put it in my message with Klara, but I was sort of hoping you'd come."

"You'd have been the only one." Jemeryl knew she was snapping, despite her best attempts to act calm.

"Are you okay?" The curtness of her retorts had registered with Tevi.

"Yes, I'm fine." Another lie.

"I suppose it must be a wrench to have to leave your home."

Jemeryl tried to force the tension from her voice. "It's not that. I had an unsettling side effect from some of my work with magic yesterday." She even managed a weak attempt at a smile.

Tevi looked dubious. Before she could speak, they were interrupted by a bump, followed by a whine from Ruff. The bear had been dragging one of the packs to the kitchens but a strap had caught on a tree root. A tug-of-war was now in progress.

Tevi darted over. "Hey, take care. There are breakables in the pack." She grinned at Jemeryl, her buoyant mood restored. "The villagers insisted on giving me two bottles of their very best local wine."

"I wouldn't raise your expectations too high. The stuff doubles as sheep dip in spring." Klara added her comment.

"It tasted all right last night. But I guess anything would after the cider." Tevi hoisted the pack onto her shoulder and headed towards the kitchen door.

"I made a start at organising the provisions yesterday. If you dump stuff on the table, I'll be along as soon as I've got the ponies stabled." Jemeryl said, grateful for the shift in conversation.

"Fine." Tevi disappeared from view, humming cheerfully to herself.

Jemeryl stood on the cobbles and buried her face in her hands. After several deep breaths, she let her arms drop and looked at the familiar stone buildings. She would cope. Tevi was back with her. Neither of them would set eyes on the woman again, or else, Jemeryl told herself, regardless of her Coven oath, there would be nothing left of the villager but a smouldering pair of shoes.

*****

The knapsack landed on the floor with a resounding thud. Jemeryl shoved it next to the other bags with her foot, then turned to survey the room. Everything was packed. The parlour looked bare, devoid of personal possessions, although the fire still bestowed a cosy glow. It would be her last night in the castle. All that was needed was to load the packs onto the ponies and ride out - just as well, since Iralin's allotted period to quit the castle expired on the next day.

At the other side of the room Tevi was opening one of the bottles of wine, struggling with an implement that looked better suited to removing stones from horse's hooves than corks from bottles. Finally, the stopper came loose with a soft pop; a celebratory drink for the true start of the quest.

Jemeryl dropped into her favourite chair and stretched her feet towards the fire, using Tumble's rump as a footstool. She accepted a mug of wine and took a cautious sip. Contrary to Klara's remark it wasn't bad - a touch sweeter than a connoisseur might wish, but quite drinkable.

At first the conversation was about the route they would take to Lyremouth, starting with Rizen and then on, skirting the southern end of Whitfell Spur. The villagers had confirmed that the main Langhope pass was still closed and Tevi was very keen not to re-traverse the old pack route. She recounted a few of the incidents from the journey with Harrick's team, although the account was unusually vague. Tevi's attention was wavering, her thoughts clearly on another subject, the nature of which Jemeryl refused to speculate on; she would rather not know - however she was not given the choice.

"Jem. Can I talk to you about something?" Tevi said, taking advantage of a lull in the conversation.

After the briefest of hesitations Jemeryl replied, "Of course." She tried to mask her reluctance. The topic Tevi wished to discuss had to be personal if she felt the need to ask permission,. It did not require an oracle to guess what it was, but it would not be either polite or tactful to refuse the request.

Tevi took a moment to gather herself before speaking. "Last night, I spent a lot of time watching the villagers. It wasn't too hard to tell men from women once I stopped making assumptions. In fact, things were so obvious I don't know how I missed it before. Like when Sergo's son referred to 'my mothers'. It's an expression I've heard, but I always assumed the person was just referring to their family - mother, grandmother and so on. Or when people referred to someone else as 'my partner'. Verron and Marith always called each other that, so I ought to have known how the expression is used in the Protectorate, but with Harrick and Rorg I just thought they meant 'business colleague'."

"No, a business colleague would be referred to as an associate - to avoid confusion." Jemeryl explained, although she was coldly certain it was not mere linguistic usage that was concerning Tevi.

"Well, yes... but what I wanted to talk to you about was... at the party, lots of the younger villagers were showing an interest in me. It's happened before, but I've always assumed the person was male and avoided them, or that I'd misinterpreted something, or in one case I... er... didn't react well." Tevi's expression shuffled between guilt and embarrassment before she continued. "But last night, there was one woman in particular - she was acting really keen, virtually chased me around the hall. Not that I minded, she was nice and fun to talk to."

Tevi was trying to look relaxed, and failing. It wasn't just an idle chat - Jemeryl knew that anyway. She realised that an interested, 'Yes, go on' was called for, but could not bring herself to say it.

"Her name's Tally. She's a cheese-maker from up the valley. Do you know her?"

"I don't think so."

"Blond hair, about your height, rather pretty."

"Oh." Jemeryl sunk back in her chair, bracing herself for what Tevi was going to say next. Suddenly a hideous thought struck her. She jerked upright. "You don't want her to come with us, do you?"

"No - nothing of the sort. In fact, she's almost incidental to what I want to say. It was just that she..." Tevi finished with a shrug.

A wave of relief washed over Jemeryl. Listening to Tevi's account would be easy by comparison to a long journey, forced to endure watching Tevi with a new-found lover. It gave Jemeryl the strength to ask for a completion to the sentence. "That she what?"

"It was... with her chasing me. I wanted to test my own reactions, so when she asked me, I kissed her." Tevi swallowed. All pretence at nonchalance had gone. She was sitting uneasily on the edge of her chair. Her eyes were fixed on the floor. "It was all right. I felt conspicuous, but not immoral or anything, and nobody else batted an eyelid - except for friends who were making encouraging gestures to her. That's when I got worried. I realised this woman saw me as some great hero and lover. I didn't know how to tell her the basilisk was a one-off thing and I didn't have a clue about the other. So I made a joke about never trusting a mercenary's kiss and left her. I barricaded myself in a corner with the old folk and told them stories until Tally left."

"You didn't spend the night with her?" Jemeryl blurted out.

"Oh no. I didn't say I liked her that much."

Jemeryl's heart started to pound. "So, what is it you want to talk about?"

"It's just... like with the woman last night... about not having a clue..." Tevi ground to a halt.

Jemeryl opened her mouth but could not force any words out, not daring to risk saying the wrong thing.

After a long silence, Tevi continued. "Supposing... if there was a woman, and you were really attracted to her, but didn't know how she felt about you. What would you say to her?"

"It would depend."

"On what?"

"On how sober I was - among other things."

"Would you want to be drunk?" Tevi sounded sceptical.

"It would help overcome any nerves, though it would do nothing for my eloquence." Jemeryl was amazed to hear how steady her own voice sounded. "We aren't just talking hypothetically, are we?"

"No." Tevi answered after a slight pause.

"There's someone you have your eye on."

"Yes."

"Not another of the villagers."

"No."

"Or someone from Lyremouth, or Treviston."

"No."

Jemeryl sat motionless in her chair, willing Tevi to look up, meet her eyes, give a smile or some other unequivocal sign - in vain. Tevi remained staring at the floor.

There had to be more than one possible interpretation for Tevi's words; for why she had chosen to say what she had said. The way my luck's been running, she probably wants me to recommend a few suitable lines from a poem to put in a love letter home, Jemeryl told herself. But surely there must be a faint possibility that she's referring to me? Her jaw clenched at the afterthought, If not, it will be beyond bearing, regardless of what I do. She had to take her chance, and hope.

Jemeryl got to her feet, walked to Tevi's chair, then knelt so their heads were level. "What I'd say would also depend on who it was, the circumstances, and whether I could steer the conversation. Maybe I'd say nothing and let my actions speak for me."

Slowly, hesitantly, Jemeryl reached out and took hold of Tevi's hand, dreading that it would be snatched away, but the fingers she gripped tightened about her own. At last, Tevi raised her head and their eyes met.

While red firelight flickered and danced over the room, the two of them stayed frozen in position. Tevi's gaze held Jemeryl cocooned from the rest of the world. It felt to Jemeryl as if her entire life had been distilled into that moment. Nothing else had, or would, ever exist apart from the woman in front of her. She tried to speak but her lungs were not working properly.

Jemeryl lifted her free hand to cup Tevi's cheek. She felt the slight pressure as Tevi leaned into her touch. Then Jemeryl slipped her hand to the back of Tevi's neck, and drew her forward into a slow kiss.

Tevi's mouth was soft, moving against hers, nuzzling, sucking and then opening. Their tongues touched and Jemeryl heard herself moan. She began to explore - at first tentatively caressing, and then more fervently as her lips and tongue struggled to express the surge of desire.

Tevi's hand twisted free of the grasp. Both her arms wrapped around Jemeryl, tightening and pulling her close. Effortlessly, Tevi's enhanced strength lifted Jemeryl clear of the ground. She clung to Tevi's shoulders. Even through clothes, Tevi's body felt more real than anything Jemeryl had ever touched before; the firm softness filled her arms.

Somehow, they ended up sitting on the floor, squashed awkwardly between the chair and Tumble. Neither obstacle showed any sign of moving. At last Tevi broke from the kiss. She rested her forehead on Jemeryl's shoulder, gasping.

"Dare I hope from this, that I'm the woman you have your eye on?" Jemeryl's tone was not quite as light as she intended.

"I've wanted you since the moment I saw you." The thick cloth of Jemeryl's shirt muffled Tevi's voice.

"It's been the same for me."

"Truly?" Tevi sounded disbelieving.

"And you must remember I had a two day head-start on you."

"You really..."

"Yes."

Talk was inadequate. Jemeryl turned her head. Her lips travelled along the line of Tevi's jaw, detecting the faint tastes of salt and wood-smoke. The smoothness of Tevi's throat became wet and slippery under Jemeryl's mouth. She could feel Tevi's hands were trembling as they moved over her shoulders and down her spine. She suspected her own hands were none too steady either.

Jemeryl laid her face against Tevi's and opened her eyes. The wooden chair leg was inches from her nose. She stared at it while forming the words she wanted to say.

"Would you like to share my bed tonight? I'll understand if it's too much, too quickly and..."

She broke off as Tevi nodded sharply, her face still buried in Jemeryl's shoulder.

"You're sure?"

"Yes."

"In that case, perhaps we should move while my legs can still carry me."

Jemeryl wondered if they might be beyond that point already. Getting to her feet required both hands braced on the chair. Her actions felt as clumsy as a toddler's. Her knees were rubber. The stairs would have been impossible without an arm around Tevi's waist as support.

In her bedroom, they stood a while kissing, until Jemeryl gently pushed Tevi to onto the bed. In a business-like fashion, she undid the ties of her own shirt. Her hands moved on to her belt, but stopped. Tevi's gaze was transfixed on the gapping cloth. Letting her arms fall to her side, Jemeryl moved within reach of the seated woman. Tevi's hands slipped under the shirt, encircling Jemeryl, while her face tunnelled through the folds of material.

Jemeryl gasped at the touch of Tevi's lips on her skin. Had it not been for the supporting arms she would have fallen. She leaned forwards and braced her knees against the bed-frame. Her fingers burrowed through Tevi's short, dark hair. Her grip was firm enough to steer the path of Tevi's mouth towards her breast. Tevi's tongue flicked across her nipple. Jemeryl heard a small sound, like the mew of a new-born kitten, escape from the back of her own throat. She guided Tevi's head to her other breast. Waves of sensation flooded through her. Jemeryl looked down. Tevi's eyes were closed. Shadow filled the hollow of her cheek as she sucked. By the time Jemeryl pulled away, her body was trembling so much it was hard to finish undressing, and harder still to get Tevi free from her clothes.

The air was chill on exposed flesh. Jemeryl tugged back the bed covers and pushed Tevi inside, then snuggled in. Jemeryl's senses were overwhelmed by the awareness of Tevi; the texture of skin on skin, the rhythmic whisper of breath, and Tevi's eyes, inches away, staring into hers. She rolled back, pulling Tevi on top of her. Tevi's weight pressed her into the mattress. With her fingertips Jemeryl began investigating the contours of Tevi's back and sides. Her thumbs rippled over the furrows of Tevi's ribs.

Tevi drew back, resting up on her elbows. She adjusted her balance so she could lift one hand to Jemeryl's face. Her fingers traced the lines of cheek and jaw. Earnest desire was plain in Tevi's expression, and so was uncertainty.

The doubts solidified. "Um... you know I said about not having a clue?" Tevi's voice was barely audible.

Jemeryl smiled in understanding. "You've never done this before with a woman?"

"With anyone."

"Ah." Jemeryl considered the implications. "In that case, I'm afraid you might find it a bit of a disappointment - most people do."

Jemeryl's smile broadened. She rolled over so that Tevi was the one on her back. Jemeryl began a series of light teasing kisses, moving quickly over cheeks, nose and eyes, dancing away from Tevi's lips, until Tevi grew more assertive and caught hold of Jemeryl's head. She clamped her mouth against Jemeryl's, claiming her in an embrace that became ever more passionate. Their legs entwined.

Jemeryl felt herself swept along. Her paranormal senses only served to intensify the message her other senses were providing. Tevi's aura was energised with the heat of desire. Her persona crackled with tension.

Jemeryl pulled free of Tevi's grasp and lifted herself on one elbow. The tip of her forefinger touched the hollow at the base of Tevi's throat. Jemeryl interwove the contact through the higher dimensions, connecting to the hub of Tevi's aura. Tevi gasped with the shock. Jemeryl's hand moved on, tracing the ethereal lines of arousal across Tevi's body, flaring around her breasts, snaking along her thighs and condensing in the pit of her stomach. Tevi's breathing grew ragged, as if the air had to be dragged into her lungs.

Jemeryl's hand reached the elemental pivot between Tevi's legs, that was now the focus of both body and aura. Her fingers slipped into the silky wetness. Tevi's aura was overloaded, ready to erupt. Her body shuddered in spasms. Jemeryl guided the rising waves, moulding them to the rhythm of Tevi's breath. Jemeryl's fingers slipped inside Tevi. The surge through Tevi's aura matched the cry that broke from her lips. Tevi was close to climax. It took only the final pressure from Jemeryl's thumb to send her over the edge.

Jemeryl witnessed Tevi's climax in seven dimensions. Tevi's body arched. Her aura... Jemeryl shook her head, regretting the lack of words to describe the effect. If it were sight, it would be blazing blue light. If it were sound, it would be a trumpet. If it were taste, it would be raw alcohol. The experience left Jemeryl herself on the point of release - but it could wait, at least for a few minutes.

Tevi had twisted onto her side with her face buried in Jemeryl's shoulder. Slowly her breathing returned to normal. She rolled back and looked up. Her gaze met Jemeryl's with an intensity that burned through all the planes of existence. Jemeryl stared back into the pair of grey eyes she had created.

Abruptly, disconcertingly, Jemeryl's extended time-sense intruded. The room broke into a kaleidoscope of seconds, then the world fell back into place. For better or worse Jemeryl knew, with a sorcerer's certainty, that her life would never be free of the consequences of that night.

The temporal shock when she had first set eyes on Tevi - Iralin had provoked it, tinkering with time. It had been an attempt to manipulate the outcome of a train of events starting with the meeting in the castle courtyard - but which part was cause and which effect? Maybe she and Tevi had always been fated to meet, to become lovers, and the Coven's interference had merely confused the web of fate, or maybe it was the tampering that had entwined her destiny with Tevi's and bound them together.

Whichever it was, Jemeryl did not care.

Lowering her head, she lost herself again in the sensation of Tevi's mouth on her own.

Chapter 7: Ordinary folk

The ponies' hooves clattered on the cobbles of the courtyard. Tevi made a final check to ensure the load tied behind each saddle was secure. She grinned at the two squirrels, perched on her pony's rump, that watched eagerly, as if confident that acorns would soon form part of the game. Tevi placed her hand on top of the bedroll and pushed it back and forth in an experimental fashion, testing that nothing would shake loose.

The straps and harness passed the test. The squirrels complained noisily and jumped to the ground. Tevi stepped back and yawned, stretching her arms up above her head. The joints in her shoulders cracked. The sun had not yet climbed high enough in the sky to appear over the battlements and the courtyard was chilly. Tevi's breath created white clouds in the still dawn air.

Tevi flexed her neck, testing the way her body felt. There was a definite change, as if her muscles no longer fit in quite the same way on her bones. The grin reappeared on Tevi's face. Contrary to Jemeryl's words, Tevi had not been disappointed - surprised once or twice, but most definitely not disappointed. She pressed both hands against her cheeks. It was getting serious; she couldn't stop grinning and her face was starting to ache. She tried to imagine what her mother would say, an exercise that normally removed any trace of a smile, but today it only produced a desire to giggle. She had the feeling her feet weren't touching the ground, that her life had abruptly shot off on an unfamiliar route, but she wasn't complaining.

The sound of Jemeryl's footsteps came from the open doorway to the great hall. The sorcerer appeared in the porch, wrapped in warm travelling clothes, with the two bears in retinue. At the sight of her Tevi's insides turned to mush. Her first impulse was to rush over and sweep Jemeryl into an embrace, but Tevi hesitated, unsure of herself. Would it be too over-enthusiastic? Too immature? She waited by the ponies for Jemeryl to join her before reaching out self-consciously and placing her arms around Jemeryl's waist.

"Everything ready?" Jemeryl asked, after planting a gentle kiss on Tevi's lips.

"Yes."

"Then I guess it's time to go."

"Do we really have to leave today?"

"I was given a deadline to heal you and quit the valley. My time's up."

"Couldn't you tell them I suffered a relapse?"

Jemeryl muffled her laughter in Tevi's shoulder. Her embrace tightened, and then released. "Don't tempt me. I'm in enough trouble with Iralin as it is."

Tevi started to turn away forlornly. Jemeryl put a hand on her shoulder and pulled her back.

"Believe me, I'd like nothing better than to stay here in the castle, alone with you. But we'll be together until we find the chalice. With any luck it'll take us months... maybe years."

"It might not."

"I'm sure we'll find a way to drag it out." Jemeryl said mischievously.

The tone put the smile back on Tevi's lips. After one last kiss, the pair of them climbed into the saddles. They rode out under the heavy stone arch of the gatehouse, and into the watery morning sunlight beyond. Ruff and Tumble padded along behind, accompanied by an excited group of squirrels.

The trail led across the ruined outer ward of the castle, before winding its way downhill between bushes and outcrops of bricks and stones. Tevi would have headed straight on to the village but, once they were well clear, Jemeryl reined her pony around and faced the castle. She closed her eyes and muttered softly under her breath, while her hands made a series of sharp cutting movements.

Before Tevi's eyes, a change came over the buildings. The solid timbers of the gate decayed and fell apart. Stones crumbled and fell. There was a loud crash as a floor inside the castle gave way; the boom echoed back from the surrounding hillside. The squirrels fled in panic to the shelter of the nearest tree.

"Why did you do that?" Tevi's voice was a mixture of alarm and surprise.

"Didn't I tell you the castle was a partial illusion? I just returned it to the state it was in when I found it. The wooden parts and furniture were temporal reconstructions. It wouldn't have been safe to leave them, in case the villagers came poking around once we're gone. Now the squirrels can have it all to themselves again."

Jemeryl turned her pony around and guided it down the trail, leaving Tevi staring in bewilderment at the ruins. Her mouth worked at unspoken questions in the effort to come to terms with the idea that she had spent the previous twelve days in a heap of rubble disguised by illusion. It did not make sense. She urged her pony on to catch up with Jemeryl.

"You can create a castle from a ruin, but we have to ride all the way to Lyremouth on horseback. Can't you make us fly there or something?"

Jemeryl's face held a good-humoured grin as she tried to explain. "Magic isn't like that. Even sorcerers can't make things happen out of nothing. We have to study the paranormal dimensions and use whatever we find there. For telekinesis to be effective, you need a suitable drift pattern in the sixth dimension. If you can coerce the essence to flow with the currents, then the mass in the three normal dimensions follows."

"What?" Tevi said, utterly confused.

"Flying isn't easy." Jemeryl summed it up.

"The sorcerer in Treviston was able to make a bottle of wine float in the air."

A guilty expression crossed Jemeryl's face. "You can force things over a short distance, but it's hard work. I'm afraid that most of the time, when you see a sorcerer make things defy gravity, it's just to impress the ungifted. It would actually be less effort to move the items by hand."

"You mean it's not very useful?"

"It is sometimes. And when the currents are suitably configured, telekinesis can be quite impressive - but it doesn't happen often."

"Sounds rather haphazard."

"That's like a blind person saying sight is haphazard because it doesn't work very well at night."

The trail reached the point where it passed through a breach in the outer walls. Before them, the bracken-covered hillside rolled down to the cultivated fields of the valley floor. The slopes above were covered in pine trees, ending in a ragged line a short distance away. Jemeryl brought her pony to a halt once more and pointed to the trees. In obedience to her gesture, Ruff and Tumble ambled up the hill, shouldering their way through the coarse vegetation. When they reached the first of the trees, Jemeryl stood in the stirrups and clapped her hands together three times.

As the sound faded the two bears froze in their tracks, as if turned to stone, then Ruff shook his head and sneezed. Tumble looked up at the dark green branches above her head, whining softly. Back on the path, Tevi's pony fidgeted restlessly. The sound of small stones, crunching under its hooves, made both bears look around. Instantly they spun back and pelted into the woods as fast as their legs would carry them.

Tevi watched them go sadly. "Will they remember us?"

"Just a few confusing details that will make them even more wary of people - which is the way I'd want it." Jemeryl said firmly. "I'd hate to think of them wandering up to a fur trapper and try to make friends."

"But Klara comes with us?"

"You bet, sweetheart." The magpie answered for herself, perched on the pack behind Jemeryl's saddle.

Jemeryl prompted her pony into a gentle trot down the hillside. "Come on. Let's go and bid our fond farewells to the villagers."

*****

Late afternoon, two days later, they reached the outlying farms surrounding the town of Rizen. Flocks of sheep grazed on rough pasture between areas of dense woodland. To the east a slow-flowing river twisted in loops through waterlogged meadows. The road forded several shallow tributaries that ran down from the hills. High above, the ragged peaks of the Spur were lost in cloud. A light drizzle was falling in the dwindling light. Nobody else was visible on the road, although the track showed signs of considerable use. Its surface was dotted with potholes and furrowed with deep ruts from the wheels of farm carts.

Ahead of them, Rizen lay in a wide bend of the river. The massive defensive walls were a reminder of less civilised days, before the area had taken allegiance with the Coven. The drizzle turned to rain as they approached the town gates. Tevi pulled up the hood of her cloak, grateful they would be spending the night under a roof.

Three guardsmen were sheltering from the rain beneath the stone arch of the gate. They were dressed in the uniform of the town militia, and their hands carried the red and gold tattoo of the mercenaries. They paid far more attention to their own banter than the approaching riders. Bursts of laughter echoed in the confined space.

Jemeryl halted her pony beside them. "Could you tell me if the sorcerer is in town today?" she asked.

The sergeant broke off in mid sentence and slowly turned around, his mouth set in a self-important sneer. His contemptuous manner lasted no more than a fraction of a second. Without making an ostentatious show, Jemeryl's sleeve was pushed back to reveal the black amulet on her wrist. At the sight of it, the sergeant snapped to attention. The other two guardsmen were only an instant behind in copying his action.

"Yes, ma'am. Sorcerer Chenoweth is in residence. Please, if you would wait a moment, I will arrange a suitable escort to take you to him."

"Thank you, that isn't necessary."

Giving the faintest nod to acknowledge the sergeant's salute, Jemeryl rode on into the town. The abrupt change in attitude was not so easy for Tevi to ignore. Of course - that's how people respond to sorcerers, she reminded herself. It left her with a feeling of discomfort. The eyes of the guardsmen seemed to go straight through her. There was no response to her friendly smile. Tevi hesitated, tempted to speak, but was put off by the blank expressions. She urged her pony forward to catch up with Jemeryl.

Substantial timber-framed buildings lined either side of the main street. Above the doors hung the signs of a dozen guilds, however none of them denoted an inn. Tevi was about to suggest they look for suitable lodgings, when she caught sight of a sign bearing the red and gold swords of the mercenaries' guild, swinging outside a tall building.

"I ought to call in at the guildhall." Tevi pointed it out as she spoke. "I should check that Harrick left the payment for the contract. I suppose I'd also better explain about the basilisk. I didn't get paid for it, and I wouldn't want them to think I was cheating the guild out of its share."

"Don't be surprised if they aren't very pleased." Jemeryl gave a crooked smile. "The mercenaries don't go in for unpaid acts of charity, as you might guess from the guild's name. While you're explaining it to them, I'll go and visit the town sorcerer. It counts as good manners to tell someone when you're in their area. I'll pick you up from the guildhall afterwards and we'll find an inn for the night."

Tevi slipped out of her saddle and caught hold of the pony's reins. "I guess I'll have to hand the pony over as well, it was only on loan. I don't know what to do about..."

"Don't worry, we'll get another one."

"Right."

Tevi shared a last smile with Jemeryl before heading off beneath the archway leading to an inner courtyard, and presumably the stable block.

*****

Once Tevi was out of sight, Jemeryl continued riding slowly down the street. There were a fair number of people about, despite the rain. Most rushed by with their heads down, and paid little attention to her, but those who spotted her amulet stepped aside discreetly. Jemeryl gave no acknowledgement to their respectful nods. Her thoughts were locked on the imminent meeting with the Rizen sorcerer.

She was not looking forward to the conversation. Iralin had claimed that it was Chenoweth who passed the reports from the villagers on to Lyremouth. Jemeryl had met Chenoweth on several occasions. They had not got on well - not as far as arguing, but Jemeryl had found the other sorcerer uninspired and, frankly, not very intelligent. She suspected Chenoweth thought her both arrogant and unorthodox. He was probably gloating over the current events, as far as he was aware of them.

Chenoweth's home overlooked an imposing square, close by the gates. Jemeryl could not hide her scorn as she looked at it. The place was a monument to a weak imagination. In truth it was actually a pleasant town house, build in the local style to generous proportions. However, Chenoweth had overlain it with illusion to the extent that it now appeared hideously incongruous with its neighbours. He had managed to work in every cliché for a sorcerer's dwelling, including animated gargoyles guarding the door and multicoloured smoke issuing from the chimneys. If it impressed the local ungifted population, it would imply a sad lack of sophistication on their part.

To Jemeryl's mind, Chenoweth was little more than an overrated witch. It was very doubtful that Iralin would have informed him of the actions taken over the reports he had transmitted, but Chenoweth would be quite able to draw his own conclusions when he learnt Jemeryl was bound for Lyremouth. It was a safe bet that his response would be smug, petty-minded and vindictive. Jemeryl chewed her lip, trying to work out the most tactful way of dealing with the situation.

Klara hopped onto her shoulder. "Don't worry, just give him quick summary of the relevant facts." the magpie whispered.

"Which are?"

"That he's an interfering arsehole, who pays too much attention to the ramblings of ignorant morons."

Klara's suggestions were rarely helpful.

*****

The guild-master crossed his massive forearms, laced with a network of scars, on the desk in front of him. "And you're quite certain you haven't anything else you'd like to declare?" He sneered.

"No, sir."

On the other side of the desk, Tevi stood sullenly to attention. In the two hours since her arrival at the guildhall, she had come to realise that Jemeryl's warning was well-founded. The guild-master had insisted on her repeating her story half a dozen times, while his attitude had got progressively more hostile. He clearly did not believe a thing she said. For her part, Tevi was forming an intense dislike of the man. She was not used to having her word doubted.

The guild-master shifted back in his chair and gave her a long hard stare. The only sound in the room came from one corner, where another senior guild member had the contents of Tevi's saddle-pack spread over a long table and was rummaging through the items suspiciously.

The guild-master's voice snapped out. "Why don't you start again, from the beginning, when you decided not to complete your contract with Trader Harrick?"

"Trader Harrick agreed I had completed my contract in getting the cargo over the mountains."

"Your contract said you would stay with him until Rizen. Where did you think you got the right to change its terms?"

"By mutual consent a contract may be amended." Tevi replied.

"Don't try quoting rules at me." the guild-master bellowed. "I was living by them before you were born. Amendment of contract is only allowed in exceptional circumstances."

Tevi would have laid money that the man had been a bully as a child. "The lives of Protectorate citizens were at..." Her words were interrupted by an urgent rapping on the door of the room.

"What is it now?" The guild-master shouted in exasperation.

A young apprentice poked her head around the edge of the door nervously. "There's a sorcerer here to see you, sir. She says it's about the new arrival."

The announcement was greeted by a sigh of relief from Tevi. Its effect on the two guild officials was far more dramatic. They both froze with blank expressions of confusion on their faces while their eyes shifted from the messenger to Tevi, and then on to each other.

The guild-master was the first to recover from the surprise. "Don't stand there gawking. Show the sorcerer up immediately." he barked at the waiting apprentice. As the door closed his glare shifted back to Tevi. "I suppose you think this is your friend?"

Tevi felt a blush touch her cheeks at the emphasis he put on the word 'friend'. "Yes sir. Jemeryl said she'd meet me here."

"Still sticking to your story? Well maybe now we'll get to the truth."

Despite his continued belligerence, the guild-master was noticeably unsettled. He got to his feet, then stood, adjusting the set of his clothes and tightening his belt. As the sound of footsteps was heard in the corridor outside, he combed his thinning hair back with his fingers, in a last nervous effort at personal grooming.

Suddenly, Tevi understood what the guild-master had meant by the way he had stressed 'friend'. An immense gulf in social status existed between a junior mercenary and a Coven sorcerer. In the castle Jemeryl herself had insisted on acting like equals, but the rest of the world would not see them as such.

Tevi realised it was the assertion that the Coven authorities took an interest in her quest for a family heirloom that had prejudiced the guild-master against believing her story from the start. Referring to Jemeryl in terms more appropriate for a personal friend than a superior had also not helped. Judging by his reaction to the news of Jemeryl's arrival, the guild-master had not even believed the sorcerer existed. Now he evidently expected to have Tevi's account revealed as a distortion of the truth, if not an outright lie. However, Tevi did not have long to analyse all the implications. The door opened and both guild officers bowed stiffly as Jemeryl swept into the room.

"How may we assist you ma'am?" The guild-master's bellicose tones were gone, replaced by starched politeness.

Jemeryl did not answer immediately. Her gaze travelled very deliberately around the room. Tevi guessed that her own face held an expression of aggrieved irritation. Jemeryl could add it to the guild-master's stern officiousness and his colleague's edgy sideways glances. It would not be hard to read the situation.

Jemeryl's eyes finished up fixed on the guild-master. "Thank you, but my business is actually with Tevi." Her manner was nothing short of condescending.

"On that subject, I'm pleased you've arrived, ma'am. There seems to be a little confusion. We are..."

Jemeryl interrupted. "Confusion? Didn't Tevi explain the situation?"

"We've had a version of events, but we're unsure of the accuracy. If..."

Jemeryl cut him off again. "You're surely not calling my friend's honesty into question?"

Despite her tension Tevi could not help being amused by the guild-master's face as he tried to cover his stunned disbelief. "Er... well... No, ma'am."

"Then what is the problem?" Jemeryl's voice had become icy.

"It's... we..." The guild-master swallowed. He glanced towards his colleague, as if hoping for inspiration or advice. Nothing was forthcoming.

In the resulting silence, Jemeryl turned to Tevi. "You told them I want you to accompany me?" Her voice sounded coldly offended.

"I've tried to." Tevi replied.

Jemeryl looked back to the guild-master. The questioning expression on her face demanded an answer.

"Um... no, ma'am. There's no problem." the guild-master mumbled.

Tevi was starting to feel uncomfortable. She had hoped that Jemeryl's arrival would result in the situation being resolved with the minimum of fuss, however Jemeryl was clearly playing the game of baiting the guild-master. Having recently been subjected to bullying, Tevi was unhappy to see it continued - even though it was her tormentor who was currently on the spot. Yet, despite her qualms, there was a point that had to be cleared up.

"They've refused me permission to leave town." Tevi said quietly.

"They've said what!" Jemeryl's tone was outraged.

"Ma'am, we didn't..." the guild-master tried to get his explanation in.

Jemeryl spoke across his voice. "You told them we're on Coven business?"

"They said I had to stay here, regardless of who wanted me." Tevi tactfully refrained from quoting verbatim.

The guild-master flinched.

Jemeryl stared at him. "You question my authority to claim Tevi's services?"

"No ma'am, of course not."

"But you won't let her come with me?"

"Oh no, ma'am. But we didn't want her running off without proper authorisation."

"You want me to sign a formal contract for her employment? Of course, you are quite within your rights to do so."

During her assessment in Lyremouth, Tevi had been told that the Coven would only be asked for formal contracts of employment in exceptional circumstances. Should a sorcerer require any mercenary's services the guild would reimburse its member from its own coffers. Tevi had not understood all the ramifications, only that it amounted to an indiscretion to even suggest charging the Coven. Despite this, Jemeryl held out her hand, as if waiting to be passed a pen and paper.

"Please, that won't be necessary. I'll sort out all requisite details." The guild-master was half an inch from grovelling.

Jemeryl stepped back and treated him to a glare that could have stripped the varnish off his desk. "So what is all this nonsense about?"

"We were just a little confused ma'am, your... friend's story was so... unusual. We couldn't see why you'd need her services."

"You're surely not calling on me to give an account of my reasons?" Jemeryl's voice was soft, but deadly.

Tevi felt sorry for the guild-master as he floundered in the face of the sorcerer's determination to put the worst interpretation on his every word.

"Oh no, ma'am. There's just been a misunderstanding. Your companion can leave at once."

The guild-master had the sense to realise that anything he might say would only make things worse. A fierce gesture goaded the other official into a burst of activity. Both men fumbled clumsily in their haste as they shoved Tevi's belongings back into the bags. In next to no time the two women were outside on the street. Tevi had even been given back her pony. The guild-master had promised to pay Harrick for it on behalf of the guild.

*****

Night had fallen while Tevi had been in the guildhall. The dark streets were now deserted and the rain had turned to sleet. Jemeryl created a small globe to light their way and urged her pony forwards. Its hooves splashed though the puddles dotting the wet cobbles. Tevi rode in silence, relieved to be out of the guildhall, but deeply uneasy as she considered events since arriving in Rizen, and the consequences of Jemeryl's rank. Alone together in the castle it had not mattered. They had become friends, without deference or superiority, and then lovers. Could this familiarity continue in the presence of others? Would Jemeryl want it to? Tevi found herself wondering just how Jemeryl saw their relationship.

Chenoweth had recommended an inn. It was a prosperous establishment, well situated in the centre of town. The Rizen sorcerer had apparently also sent word to the innkeeper, since a member of the staff was awaiting their arrival in the yard behind the inn, standing out in the open despite the weather. The stable-hand rushed forward to assist the two women, although, once he had established which one was the sorcerer, Tevi received only cursory attention. She stepped back in the shelter of an overhanging roof and stood, studying Jemeryl's profile.

Instead of her usual impish grin, Jemeryl's expression was grave and impersonal. She hardly spared a glance for the sodden stable-hand. Her whole bearing was disdainful and remote. Her voice was a crisp monotone, leaving no doubt that she expected her instructions obeyed. Tevi's jaw clenched as she watched. It was hard to see any resemblance to the woman who had become her lover.

The ponies were left in the care of the stable-hand and two porters arrived to carry the baggage. Before Jemeryl and Tevi had reached the rear entrance of the inn, the door was pulled open by an anxious innkeeper who was waiting with another member of staff in attendance. The lively hubbub of voices in the taproom, clearly audible from the stable-yard, immediately dropped to a hushed mumbling as Jemeryl stepped inside.

"We'd like a room for the night." Jemeryl's voice was cold.

"Yes of course, ma'am. We're just having our best suite made ready." The innkeeper was clearly torn between nervousness and pride at his prestigious customer. His hands fidgeted restlessly with the cloth of his apron.

In Tevi's opinion, there was an excessive amount of fuss as they were led upstairs and along a wide hallway. The room they finally entered was large and elegantly furnished. Rich tapestries hung on the walls. The floorboards were scarcely visible between the rugs. What looked like half a tree was burning in the huge inglenook fireplace. Opposite the entrance was a deep bay window that, in daylight, would command views over the river. Doors on either side gave access to further rooms.

The innkeeper stood by anxiously as the sorcerer examined the accommodation.

"These are your best rooms?" Jemeryl's neutral tone could have implied anything.

"You are welcome to inspect any of the others."

"Don't you know which are your best rooms?"

"Y-y-yes ma'am" the innkeeper stuttered. "These are. I'm afraid they're due for redecoration, but..."

Jemeryl held up a hand to interrupt him. "It will be satisfactory."

"Is there anything else you require, ma'am?"

"A bath before we eat would be appreciated. That will be all."

The innkeeper bowed and backed out. The second the door closed Jemeryl's autocratic air vanished. "Well - what do you think of it?" she asked with a sweep of her arms.

Tevi had been standing awkwardly at one side. She hesitantly left the position and wandered towards the fire. Her eyes shifted uneasily, taking in the whole room, with the exception of the spot were Jemeryl was standing.

Jemeryl's exuberance softened into sympathy. "Were they giving you a hard time in the guildhall? I could tell as soon as I walked in that something was up."

"It's not that." Tevi pointedly refused to meet her eyes.

"What's wrong, Tevi?"

Tevi ran her hand ran over the back of a long couch, fingering the embroidered fabric. "How much will it cost to stay here?"

"We won't have to pay. If I'm asked I'll sign a receipt the innkeeper can offset against his taxes, but I doubt that he will. It's taken as a sign of poverty to charge the Coven. Besides, he'll make it back. Saying that these rooms were good enough for a sorcerer will let him put two shillings on the price."

Tevi slumped onto a chair by the fire. Her eyes were fixed on the thick rug by her feet.

"What's upsetting you? I thought you'd like a bit of luxury." Jemeryl's voice betrayed growing confusion and disappointment. "It's not really the money, is it?"

"No."

"Then what?"

"It's the way you behave with ordinary folk." Tevi mumbled.

"The way I what?"

"The way you trample over people."

"I don't." Jemeryl's voice was rising.

"You do. Not just in taking it for granted that you could have the best rooms in the inn, free of charge. You were deliberately trying to intimidate the innkeeper - you didn't even act grateful."

"It's the innkeeper who should be grateful to me." Jemeryl blazed. "I told you he'll recoup his money. Anyway, ungifted citizens owe all their prosperity to the Coven. Without us they'd be living in mud huts, at the mercy of any magic-wielding tyrant."

Tevi was shaken by the angry outburst. Instead of responding in kind, her manner was even more subdued as she said, "I know what the Coven does for people and I know all about poverty. On the islands we worked from dawn to dusk. We regularly went cold and hungry. We saw one child in four die before its first birthday - and that was in the Queen's household."

"So what's wrong?" Jemeryl snapped. She stood in front of Tevi's chair, glaring down at her.

"I'd forgotten how ordinary citizens jump when a sorcerer talks to them."

"Is that my fault?"

"You were playing it as hard as you could." Tevi was also starting to sound heated.

"Why are you bothered? I wasn't trying to pull rank on you."

"The affect rubs off. If it keeps up, I'm going to start calling you ma'am."

"Don't you dare."

"Is that an order?"

Jemeryl bit back whatever she was about to say and strode away to stand facing the bay window, although it was too dark to see out. Raindrops were running down the outside of the glass, glittering in the reflected light from the fire. Tevi watched her lover's back, too overwhelmed by her own clashing emotions to speak.

At last Jemeryl turned away from the window and walked back to Tevi's side. "Look, I know all the bowing and scraping can be irritating. Sorcerers make most people nervous - it's not that I want it or expect it." Her voice was deliberately gentle, as if she was working on sounding reasonable.

"You looked like you were enjoying the whole thing."

Jemeryl drew her breath in sharply. She held it for a second and then let it out in a sigh. "Yes, you're right. I was."

"Why? You're not you when you act like that." Tevi could hear the pain in her own voice - it clearly got through to Jemeryl as well.

The sorcerer knelt and took Tevi's face in her hands. "I'm sorry. Lording it over people is a bad habit that sorcerers get into. It's a silly game and I didn't intend to upset you."

"You don't care about anyone else?"

"It's hard to." Jemeryl said, honestly. "There's a barrier between Coven members and ordinary folk. And it's not one-sided. Most citizens want to keep their distance. It would probably have worried the innkeeper more if I'd tried to act all chummy. It would certainly have confused him."

Tevi was silent for a while, before saying, "I don't feel like that."

"No. And I'm very pleased you don't. You're different. "

"It made me understand the villager's view of you... a little."

Jemeryl pulled a wry grimace. "Only a little? Well, take comfort that I'm not normally so bad. I had an unpleasant time talking to Chenoweth and I've been taking it out on everyone else. I'm sorry. It was wrong of me." A corner of her mouth twitched slightly. "Mind you, I think your guild-master was asking for it."

For the space of a dozen heartbeats Tevi stared into Jemeryl's eyes, and then she glanced down, a faint smile catching her lips. "Maybe, just a little."

Before anything else could be said, there was a knock at the door. Jemeryl stood and called, "Come in."

Four of the inn staff entered, carrying a large brass bath and copious amounts of hot water and towels. These were taken into one of the adjoining rooms.

"Will you require assistance with your bath, ma'am?" The eldest of the servants asked politely, addressing her question to a point several inches to the side of Jemeryl's head.

"We can cope." Tevi answered quickly, however the servants waited for Jemeryl's nod of agreement before leaving the room.

By the time both women were clean and dressed in fresh clothes, a table had been set for them in the centre of the room. The glasses were cut crystal; the cutlery was solid silver. The dinner, when it arrived, was an elaborate creation from the chef, complimented by a bottle of vintage wine. Everything was of the highest quality, but Tevi did not enjoy the meal. She felt awkward to be the centre of so much attention.

The waiters fussed about them to the point of irritation. Jemeryl was clearly making an effort to be friendly but, as she predicted, the inn staff did not know how to respond and retreated into even more vacuous servility. Yet, once or twice, Tevi caught unguarded expressions of resentment directed at Jemeryl, and something closer to contempt aimed at herself. It was impossible to concentrate on Jemeryl and the food with the sensation of hostile eyes boring into her back. She found herself straining to catch the whispered comments the waiters exchanged among themselves just out of earshot.

She did not relax until the door closed behind the last waiter taking away the empty plates. Her relief was short-lived.

"Let's go down to the taproom for a drink." Jemeryl suggested.

"Why?"

"Why not? We spent last night camping out and we'll probably spend the next few nights in the same way. We might as well make the most of the comforts of civilisation while we have the chance. There's a harper with a very good reputation who plays here."

"You could go on your own." Tevi said nervously.

"Don't be silly. I want your company. I promise I'll be nice to people."

"If you really want to." Tevi's voice made her unhappiness plain.

Jemeryl put out a hand to grasp Tevi's shoulder. "What's wrong? Have I done something else?"

"Oh no, it's not you." Tevi's head dropped. "I think Rizen has just been too much for me. I don't think I can stand any more. If we go down to the tavern everyone will be watching us. I don't feel up to being the centre of attention. The waiter's faces during dinner - they were acting polite, but you could tell they didn't like us. It brought back lots of bad memories. On the islands I was heir to the throne. Every move I made was watched, and I knew I never measured up. When everyone is looking at you with contempt, it..." Tevi's voice failed her.

"The memory hurts that much?"

"I hated it... being seen as a joke when I failed. The one thing I liked about exile was being ignored."

Jemeryl placed her hand under Tevi's chin and turned her face so their eyes met. "It's all right. I think I understand. I've got my own ghosts which haunt me from time to time." Jemeryl's expression was caught between sadness and affection. "We can stay up here."

"No, I'm being over-sensitive." Tevi berated herself remorsefully. "We should go down to the tavern. I'll cope."

Jemeryl smiled. "We'll stay here."

"I don't want to spoil your evening. You want to hear the harper."

There was a glint in Jemeryl's eyes as she spoke. "Don't worry. I'm sure you can think of a way to compensate for missing the music." With a smile, she lowered her hand and began to unbutton Tevi's shirt.

Chapter 8: Forbidden Spells

The two women reached the brow of the last hill. Behind them freshly ploughed fields of dark soil covered the undulating landscape, and hedgerows teemed with spring flowers. Ahead of them was Lyremouth. The sprawling mass of buildings and streets hugged its harbour under a pale blue sky. On the side nearest them, close by the city, yet unmistakably distinct from it, were the buildings of the Coven.

The road was busy. The press of carts, riders and pack animals made for slow progress. By the time Tevi and Jemeryl reached the point where the road split their patience was being tested. The two women reined their ponies to one side to talk, though it was impossible not to be in someone's way.

The wider, busier fork headed into the city. The other branch, lined with oak trees, lead across parkland towards the Coven. It was much narrower and calmer, however no one could mistake it for a side street - it was probably the most famous stretch of road in the world.

"Are you sure you don't want me with you, to confirm the villagers were a bunch of childish gossips?" Tevi volunteered.

"I'll be fine on my own. You can back me up later if need be."

"If you're sure." Tevi dismounted and handed the reins to Jemeryl. The pony would only be a handicap on the crowded city streets. "I'll go and tell the guild-masters that I've been commandeered by the Coven. Hopefully they'll be more reasonable than the crew at Rizen - if I phrase it right."

"I'm sure they will. They've far more experience of sorcerers."

"Right. See you later."

Tevi was soon lost from view among the mass of people on the road. Jemeryl's face was pensive as she rode the last short distance alone.

It had not been easy to persuade Tevi to separate for the first meeting with their superiors, especially since Jemeryl had not given all her reasons. The initial talk with Iralin was likely to be unpleasant, and not merely because the senior sorcerer might want to elaborate on the subject of their previous conversation. Relationships with the ungifted were strongly disapproved of, although not completely forbidden. It was all too easy to forget self-control when strong emotions were involved. The ex-lovers of sorcerers had been known to come to untimely ends.

Despite her worries, Jemeryl gazed around fondly as she rode through the familiar surroundings. Only a few weeks ago she would have said without reservation that the happiest time of her life had been spent there as an apprentice. A confused frown crossed Jemeryl's face. Tevi had changed that. In her castle, Jemeryl had dreamed only of returning to the Coven to claim a place as a senior sorcerer. She was no longer quite so sure of what she wanted.

The stable block was unchanged since she had left, barring a new coat of paint. Even before she had dismounted, the leading stable-hand came over to greet her, brushing loose straw from his cloths. A smile of recognition lit Pym's weathered face. The Coven would not be the Coven without Pym.

"Madam Jemeryl. We hadn't expected to see you back so soon. Have you been recalled for more important work?" he said, cheerfully.

"In a way."

"I guessed they wouldn't leave you to rot in a backwater for long."

"It all counts as part of the Protectorate."

"But the best of the action is here." Pym said pointedly.

"And what is the latest action?" Jemeryl asked.

"Official or unofficial?"

The look Jemeryl gave answered the question. Pym laughed and proceeded to gossip amiably for a while, neatly summarising a string of minor scandals involving several of the Coven members.

"Nothing much has changed." Jemeryl said when the account had drawn to an end.

"It never does, just some of the faces."

"I'm sure. Thanks for the chat."

"You off to see Iralin?" Pym asked.

"Yes. And if you ever hear any rumours about her..."

"I'll keep them to myself. I'm not that much of a fool."

They both laughed again. Jemeryl left the stables, more comforted by his words than she let show. Pym was the best source of gossip in the Coven. If he was unaware why she had returned, then news of her disgrace was not common knowledge - but, if she read things correctly, there was more to it than Iralin had admitted. Perhaps the senior sorcerer had reasons for wanting to keep quiet.

At that time of day, Iralin was most likely to be found in her study, high in one of the central towers. Jemeryl climbed the stairs with sinking spirits. Chatting to Pym had been partly a delaying tactic, but there was no sensible way to put off the confrontation any longer. Summoning her courage, Jemeryl knocked on the door, half hoping there would be no reply.

"Enter." Iralin's voice answered immediately. She was always there when you didn't want her.

The senior sorcerer looked up from her desk. Her face hardened as she recognised her visitor. "Jemeryl. I hadn't expected to see you here. Where is the warrior you are supposed to be assisting?"

"We thought it might be best if we were to talk to our superiors separately."

"You have bad news?"

"Oh no, ma'am. But Tevi had neglected to tell the guild-masters she was quest-bound. I also wanted to make my first report in private and explain the situation as regards the quest."

"Tevi is the name of this warrior?"

"Yes ma'am."

"And what do you have to report?"

"I've made a start, but I need more facts - I had limited resources with me. We've come to Lyremouth to consult the Coven library and to get some more detailed information from you."

Iralin shuffled some papers on her desk before replying. "Precisely what sort of information were you anticipating?"

So far, the interview was going easier than Jemeryl had feared. Iralin seemed more concerned with the state of the quest than with repeating the reprimand. It was too soon to relax, but Jemeryl was starting to feel happier.

"In order to find the current location of the memory chalice I need to narrow down the list of people who might have taken it. It would help if I had some clues as to what might be in the chalice's memory. So I'm really after more information about the previous owner."

Iralin's face showed no sign of emotion, and not much of comprehension. It occurred to Jemeryl that her mentor had known far less about the quest than she had implied. It would not be tactful to draw attention to the shortcoming. Feigning omnipotence was a common failing with sorcerers - one frequently denounced by Iralin herself.

"Would it be better if I were to start by giving a full report on events in chronological order?" Jemeryl suggested diplomatically.

Iralin nodded shrewdly - always a good cover. "Yes. I think it would be an idea. You can take a seat while you're doing it."

Once settled, Jemeryl launched into an account of what she had learnt since Tevi arrived at the castle. Iralin listened intently. Jemeryl had the feeling that the older sorcerer was waiting for subtle clues - hints dropped that might mean more than was apparent. The story got as far as the end of the saga of Abrak before Iralin interrupted.

"Like most folk tales, that's nine tenths fantasy."

"I also thought so at first." Jemeryl conceded.

"Nobody has ever managed to create a viable strength potion, as you should know. Are you seriously suggesting that a lone shipwreck survivor could churn one out to order?" Iralin retorted impatiently.

"There was one sorcerer who could have done it, and the dates and other facts would tie in with her. I only came across a brief mention of her by chance, with very little real information - that's why I've come to Lyremouth. I think Abrak was actually a sorcerer named Lorimal."

It was the sudden absence of movement on the other side of the desk that alerted Jemeryl. Iralin was frozen in something that looked like speechless horror.

"You recognise the name." It was more a statement than a question from Jemeryl.

"Continue with your report." Iralin recovered her composure. She listened in silence as Jemeryl continued the narrative. The senior sorcerer's eyes were fixed grimly at the table between them. She displayed no further emotion, even when Jemeryl announced she and Tevi had become lovers.

"You've just arrived in Lyremouth?" Iralin asked, once Jemeryl had finished speaking.

"Less than an hour ago."

"Have you spoken to anyone?"

"I met Pym in the stables."

Iralin caught her breath. "Did you tell him any of this?"

"Oh no, I mainly listened."

"This young mercenary. Will she be talking to anyone?"

"Yes... as I said. She's gone to report to her guild-masters."

Iralin pressed the backs of her interlaced fingers against her mouth while she withdrew into her thoughts. Abruptly she dropped her hands and said. "Where were you planning on staying?"

"I'd thought we could take rooms in town." Jemeryl replied hesitantly. She did not want to be separated from Tevi and the authorities took an extremely dim view of the ungifted residing on Coven grounds.

However Iralin shook her head. "It would be best for the pair of you to lodge here. Get the registrar to allocate you quarters. I'll arrange the necessary permission for your mercenary to share them."

"Thank you, ma'am."

"I'm not offering it as a favour." Iralin snapped. She leaned back in her chair and studied Jemeryl, appraising her. "You must have realised that the name of Lorimal is very significant. It is possible you will soon come to learn why, but first I need to discuss this with others. Get yourself a room and go to it. Leave instructions for your mercenary to be shown there, if she arrives. Apart from that, say nothing to anyone. You will be hearing from me shortly."

"Yes ma'am." Mystified, Jemeryl made her escape.

*****

The next four hours trickled by while Jemeryl paced restlessly about her room. The more she thought of Iralin's reaction, the more anxious she became. If only Tevi would arrive, so she had someone to discus it with.

"Do you have to keep wandering about like that? How do you expect a bird to get any sleep?" a familiar raucous voice asked.

"How can you sleep at a time like this?" Jemeryl responded.

"You mean at a time when someone is stomping up and down, muttering?"

Jemeryl sent a withering glare in Klara's direction then walked over to the box-window. She perched in the deep embrasure, and craned her neck in the hope of catching sight of Tevi on the road to the Coven. After a minute of staring, the corners of her mouth pulled down in a grimace. Her view was almost completely obscured by the intervening buildings. What little she could see of the road was at too acute an angle to allow positive identification of people. The chances of picking out Tevi were slim.

There was no point trying to scry by magic. Wards built into the walls of the Coven prevented any such work. Nominally, the wards were to protect the Coven from external spies. Jemeryl suspected they were largely to provide the senior sorcerers with a degree of privacy from the unscrupulous curiosity of young students.

"For all the good it does. We just go and ask Pym." Jemeryl said aloud, grinning.

She rested her head against the glass, and watched Klara, who was dozing on a bookcase. The conversation with Iralin kept going around in her head. It was obvious that the senior sorcerer had known virtually nothing about the quest - she had not known Tevi's name and almost certainly had no idea of her island background. Iralin had not even been aware that a memory chalice was the object of the quest. The mention of Lorimal had left Iralin completely thunderstruck.

"I keep trying to work out who Lorimal was. If she's important enough to send Iralin into a flap, you'd have thought I'd have heard of her before now."

Klara jerked awake. "Perhaps you nodded off in the relevant lecture."

"Don't be silly, I never fell asleep."

"No. And you won't let do it me now." Pointedly, the magpie stuck her head back under her wing.

Jemeryl made no progress trying to reason things out. In the end, she gave up. Hopefully a summons would come soon, and she would be getting some answers. Jemeryl slipped down from the window and went to the bookcase, where she selected a volume at random. She settled in a chair, and tried to focus on the printed words.

*****

The expected knock finally came. Jemeryl tossed the book aside and leapt out of her chair. She yanked the door open with such eagerness it took the young apprentice outside by surprise.

"Please, you've been summoned..." the girl begun.

"To Iralin's study, I know." Jemeryl interrupted.

"No. You have to go to see Gilliart. She's in her private chambers"

The Guardian's name stopped Jemeryl in her tracks. The search for Lorimal's chalice was very serious if Gilliart herself had become involved. Jemeryl stared at the apprentice. There was no point asking her for more information. Jemeryl was starting to suspect that ignorance might even be an enviable state.

It was even more worrying that Gilliart was not using one of the large audience chambers for the meeting. A servant at the Guardian's quarters directed Jemeryl to a small room, that was clearly intended for private discussions. Wooden panels lined the walls and reed mats covered the floor. A rectangular table stood in the centre of the room; three people sat around it; their identities confirmed Jemeryl's foreboding.

Gilliart had her back to the window. The white hair sweeping from her hawk-like features matched the white amulet on her wrist. Her expression was solemn, even by the Guardian's standards. Her deputy, Alendy was on her left, a stocky man in his late fifties. Light from the window glinted off his bald head. Opposite him sat Iralin, staring grimly at the tabletop. All three looked troubled - even frightened.

The fourth chair at the table was empty. Jemeryl looked at it nervously. An interview with the three most senior sorcerers in the Coven would be daunting at the best of times. It would be closer to an ordeal in the tense atmosphere that permeated the room but, to Jemeryl's considerable relief, Iralin pointed silently to a small bench against one wall.

They were clearly awaiting the arrival of another person. Jemeryl slipped onto the bench. Her heartbeat had almost returned to normal when the door opened and Tallard, chief guild-master of the mercenaries, entered the room. He was a thin, wiry man with sharp eyes. From what Jemeryl could remember, he had originally been an assassin. A second person followed him into the room. Despite the situation, Jemeryl could not keep the smile from her face as she recognised Tevi.

There was an exchange of greetings as the senior mercenary took his seat. Tallard was a frequent visitor to the Coven, and was clearly not in the least intimidated by the situation. Meanwhile, Tevi had spotted Jemeryl and had sidled over to join her. Her supportive presence boosted Jemeryl's confidence. Already there was a rapport between them, negating the need for speech. Tevi reached out and squeezed Jemeryl's hand.

As soon as everyone was settled Gilliart leaned forward, addressing her words to the guild-master. "Thank you for coming so quickly. I know you have many demands on your time, so I'll attempt to be brief. But first I'd like to know how much your young colleague has told you."

"That she's oath-bound on a quest, which she should have told us earlier. That she's looking for a chalice which used to belong to a sorcerer, and that one of your members is escorting her. When she got as far as telling me that, I told her to stop. Prying into the Coven's affairs is a bad move. I thought if I needed to know more you'd tell me - since you've called for me, obviously I do." Tallard's words came in crisp bursts.

"You displayed the prudence we've come to expect. So I'm sure you'll understand that this meeting is in total confidence." Gilliart waited for the guild-master to nod before continuing. "To summarise. The Coven forbids studying certain areas of magic. Nearly 200 years ago a young sorcerer conducted experiments in one of these areas. If you've been told her name it would be a good idea to try and forget it."

Tallard shook his head in answer to the Guardian's sharp look.

"Her transgression was due to naivete rather than wilful disobedience, so no major disciplinary action was taken. She was allowed to remain in the Coven, although not to continue her experiments. Regrettably her superiors were not as rigorous as they should have been. For various reasons it was assumed that the young sorcerer had made virtually no progress. In fact, she'd almost completed her work, although this wasn't realised at the time. A short while later the sorcerer entered an unfortunate state that made it difficult to question her. Eventually she disappeared, and was presumed dead. Only then was the original oversight discovered - rather too late. The decision was made to delete all references to her, to prevent anyone copying her work. However her chalice had been lost with her and couldn't be found. It was mistakenly believed to have been destroyed."

"Another oversight." Tallard said, impassively.

"Not totally. On the faint chance that the chalice might someday be found, five people have known about its existence at any one time, the three seniors at Lyremouth and the Principals of the ancillary schools at Denbury and Ekranos."

"Surely there was a risk in letting them know?"

"It was necessary to ensure a lookout was kept for the very circumstance that has now arisen. Somebody has tracked down and taken the chalice. We can only assume they're trying to retrieve the prohibited information. It is very serious. It means a sorcerer has broken the oath of allegiance and turned traitor to the Coven."

"The person may be acting in all innocence." Tallard suggested.

"No." Alendy's base voice broke into the discussion. "Various safeguards were left in place. Anyone searching openly would have been detected. That the person has been able to get so far means they knew what they were doing was forbidden and took steps to conceal their actions."

"You found out about it." Tallard pointed out.

"Only because of luck. Things may already have gone too far. We can only hope that the situation is recoverable." Alendy said.

"It would appear you have a problem."

Gilliart rested her hands on the table and said quietly, "Believe us, it is a problem for everyone. This magic threatens the existence of the Protectorate. The ungifted stand to lose far more than the sorcerers."

Tallard pursed his lips as he mulled over the information. "I hate to use clichés, but why are you telling me this?"

"We know we can trust you to act sensibly. We need some assistance from you now, and I fear that we are likely to need a lot more before this affair is over. There will be less chance of mistakes happening if you understand the background and know what things you and your subordinates should avoid."

"What do you propose?"

"We can be certain the culprit is a member of the Coven and the possible candidates are limited. We three will take care of the suspects at Lyremouth. It's unlikely that Denbury is involved, but we will make inquiries there. The most probable place is the school of herbalism at Ekranos. However, this is where we start to hit problems. Ekranos has always been jealous of its independence..."

"And the Principal must be one of the main suspects, so you can't simply send a letter asking him to look into it." Tallard interrupted.

Gilliart regarded the mercenary in silence for a moment. "Quite. You understand the situation."

"It's the sort of thing I've earned my bread and butter dealing with for the last thirty years." Tallard leaned back in his chair. "To get to the point - what help do you require from the mercenaries?"

"Not much at the moment. We intend to send Jemeryl to investigate at Ekranos. We would like your young colleague to accompany her. We want Jemeryl to have a backup, preferably not based in the school. Someone who can forward her reports and provide general assistance."

At the mention of her name, Jemeryl sat up straight. She had been listening intently. The scarcity of information on Lorimal now made sense, but it would appear she and Tevi were witnessing the meeting not merely to satisfy their curiosity. Jemeryl was not sure whether to be flattered or frightened by the role allocated to her - to call it a heavy responsibility was an understatement.

Tallard seemed to share similar doubts. He scrutinised the young women. "Not wishing to disparage the abilities of our two associates, it does seem a rather... limited response to the level of threat you describe."

Alendy again joined the debate. "The sole task of the people we send to Ekranos will be to identify the culprit. We'll provide warrants so that they can call on the entire school resources to apprehend the traitor once this goal is achieved. We considered sending a senior sorcerer. However, unless the culprit is absurdly over-confident, they must be watching to see if their activities have been detected. The arrival of a senior figure would run the risk of the traitor fleeing before they could be identified. We're hoping that one junior sorcerer will not raise the alarm. We also want to keep the number of people who are aware of the chalice's existence to a minimum. Jemeryl and Tevi already know, so sending them will avoid the need to spread the knowledge further."

"And I'm already oath-bound on this quest." Tevi spoke out, her voice soft but clear.

Tallard looked in her direction. "I take it that you're willing to go?"

"If Jemeryl goes, I will too."

Tallard rubbed his chin thoughtfully, and then looked at Gilliart. "I suspect she's let herself in for more than she knows. It's not the sort of job I'd be happy ordering someone to accept, but since she volunteers, I've got no objections. You say you trust me to act sensibly - in turn I trust you to do what's best for the Protectorate. What else do you want from me? "

"We'll send Jemeryl on the pretext that she's gone to improve her knowledge of herbalism. She'll be sailing within the next few days. We'd like you to manufacture a separate alibi for Tevi, and arrange for her to be on the same boat. It would be better if they pretended to meet on the journey. Once at Ekranos, Tevi can take a job with the town watch or the port customs and liaise with Jemeryl."

"Won't people be surprised if a sorcerer is seen spending time with a junior mercenary?"

Iralin spoke for the first time. "I'm sure the pair of them can improvise an excuse." To Jemeryl's surprise there seemed to be a faint smile on Iralin's face. "I've heard even sorcerers can fall under the spell of a shipboard romance."

*****

Tevi trekked across the crowded quay towards the waiting vessel, the Sea Eagle, due to depart within the hour, bound for Ekranos. The sound of waves washing against the harbour walls was lost in the clamour of shouting. Tevi stopped to let a long cart trundle by, piled high with sacks of flour. Klara was perched on her left shoulder; a large rucksack was slung over the other. It had been decided that Klara would play the part of Tevi's tame pet. The magpie peered around at the commotion with bright-eyed curiosity but, in accordance with the plan, she gave no unusual display of intelligence.

A gangplank led up to the ship's deck. Tevi waited for a group of porters to pass before making her way aboard. Five or six sailors were clambering through the rigging, still more were busy on deck, working through the dozens of small jobs necessary before the ship set sail, checking ropes and bolting hatches. One crew member stood by the rail, the ship's mate to judge by her air of authority, shouting instructions to those overhead and monitoring traffic on the gangplank. Tevi gave her name to the mate and was directed to the sleeping area below deck.

A hatch gave access to steps down to the narrow galley. A row of bunks disappeared into the gloom at the far end. Most had already been claimed - ownership marked by assorted piles of belongings strewn across, but several were still free. Tevi picked one on the top row and dumped her rucksack on the pillow. It was the only baggage she had, apart from a small satchel strapped at her waist. The contents of this satchel were her purported reason for making the journey to Ekranos. Mercenaries were often employed for courier duties. The guild gave assurance of their honesty and they were able to defend themselves, should anyone try to misappropriate the items.

Before leaving the galley, Tevi took a look at the passenger accommodation. It was far from luxurious. The only light and ventilation came from the hatch; the space was cramped to the point of claustrophobia. Hopefully, they would have good weather, since being cooped up with over twenty fellow travellers did not promise to be much fun.

The scene back on deck had not changed much. The landward side was a bustle of activity as the last preparations were made for departure. Tevi found a seat well out of the crew's way and took stock of her fellow passengers. One in particular caught her attention, as was clearly his intent. The man was an elderly official from the guild of goldsmiths and evidently considered himself a person of great importance. In an attempt to impress upon everyone within earshot, he was standing in the middle of the deck, talking loudly at some unfortunate soul. His topic of conversation amounted to variations on the theme that 'he' had one of the two small private cabins at the front of the ship. Tevi was immensely pleased to learn this. The idea of being stuck with the goldsmith in the confined passenger galley did not bear thinking about.

Several groups of traders formed the main contingent of the passengers. A small child from one party wandered over to Tevi. His eyes fixed on Klara.

"You've got a bird on your shoulder." the boy said earnestly, as if the fact might have escaped Tevi's notice. "Is it a pet?"

"Sort of. Her name's Klara."

A woman detached herself from the group of traders and came to join them, most likely the boy's mother, judging from her age and the supervisory watch she kept on the child. She did not appear concerned to find him talking to a mercenary and, rather than dragging him away, settled down and introduced herself.

"Well met, citizen. I'm Etta." It was the customary Protectorate greeting, although delivered at a more breakneck rate than normal. "My partner and I are traders, specialising in spices. Are you travelling with us?"

"Well met, citizen. Er... yes. My name's Tevi, from the guild of mercenaries."

"I could tell from your hands." Etta was a small dark woman, who gave the impression that she was going through life at double speed. She went on speaking without a pause. "We're based in Talimide. How far are you going?"

"To Ekranos."

"So are we, and beyond, through the straits of Perithia and out to the eastern ocean. The Sea Eagle isn't going that far so we'll have to change ships. I'm hoping we'll have a few days in Ekranos, but it will depend on what passage we can get. Have you been to Ekranos before?"

"No." Tevi managed to squeeze in her answer.

"It's a nice town, you'll like it. My partner comes from there. We'll stop off and leave the youngster with his grandparents while we go on through the straits. He was going to stay with my partner's sister who owns a farm on the south of town. She's a really nice woman, but we're a bit worried about her - her health has been playing her up. Mind you, it's the best place to be ill, with the school of herbalism on the doorstep. My cousin..."

Once Etta had got going there was no stopping her. Over the next ten minutes Tevi learnt an awful lot about the woman's family, friends and their assorted idiosyncrasies. Etta spoke with an intense lilting accent and an enthusiasm that made it all sound, if not exciting, then at least cheerful. It would, no doubt, get wearing after a while, but given the choice between Etta and the goldsmith, there was no question of whose company Tevi would choose. While Etta talked Tevi raised a hand, so Klara could step on and then held the bird towards the child. To the boy's delight, Klara hopped over to sit on his head.

By the time Etta had got to her aunt's best friend the cargo was loaded and preparations were complete. The crew were still obviously waiting for something. The captain had come onto the deck and was pacing up and down impatiently, pausing repeatedly to scan the quay.

"Do you know what we're waiting for?" Etta asked, breaking off her recital.

"Could be anything." Actually, Tevi could make a good guess at the cause of the delay, but thought it best to feign ignorance.

"Probably the occupant of the other private cabin." Etta speculated. "Looks like it's someone important. I hope they're more fun than the other one." She indicated the goldsmith with an exaggerated expression of dislike.

At that moment, there was a minor disturbance on the dockside. The captain rushed to the top of the gangplank. Several traders wandered over to the railing and the crew paused in their work. Tevi was glad no one was watching her as she tried to maintain a nonchalant air - acting had never been one of her skills. Fortunately Etta's attention was completely taken with the sight of Jemeryl being welcomed aboard and escorted to her cabin.

The crew prepared to cast off.

Etta turned back to Tevi. "A sorcerer. That'll put master goldsmith's nose out of joint. Mind you, sorcerers can be odd. The last time I was on a ship with one, he never showed his face outside his cabin the entire trip. Apparently, he was a seer - which was a bit worrying. You kept wondering, 'What does he know?' Every time I saw a black cloud on the horizon I thought, 'That's it, we're going to go down in a storm.' However it was one of the smoothest voyages I've ever been on. But someone told me seers can be a bit..." She paused, searching for a word.

"Sensitive?" Tevi suggested, trying not to laugh.

*****

Four days out of Lyremouth and the Sea Eagle was making good progress. A steady wind filled the sails. The sky was grey with a thin cover of cloud. Tevi leaned over the bows, and watched the hull slice through the water. It was good to feel the motion of the sea under her feet, the pitch and roll of the deck. A floating strand of seaweed was picked up by the bow wave. It glistened and twisted in the surf for an instant and then was sucked under the glassy green surface.

The sound of footsteps made Tevi look over her shoulder. Jemeryl had climbed onto the foredeck and was casually strolling in her direction. Tevi pushed away from the rail and stood up straight.

"Good morning, ma'am." Tevi spoke respectfully. So far on the journey they had scarcely acknowledged each other, making a show of being strangers.

Jemeryl raised her eyebrows at the formal greeting. A hint of a grin caught the corners of her mouth. "Good morning, citizen."

"Is there anything I can do for you?"

Jemeryl's eyes danced mischievously. "Now there's a question." She looked around; her perusal included the rigging overhead. No one was within earshot. "But we'd better take things in order. I'm thinking it's about time for us to get to know each other."

"That's fine by me."

In fact, it was better than fine. The enforced separation was having a bad effect on Tevi's sleep patterns. Each night she found herself lying awake in her cot, battling with the temptation to try and slip into Jemeryl's cabin without being noticed. When she finally did drift off, Jemeryl would play a prominent part in her dreams. Tevi was increasingly worried that she would speak or call out in her sleep and wake her fellow passengers. Giving the likely content of any such outburst, there would be very little chance of her persuading anyone that she had been suffering from a nightmare.

The ship's chicken hatch was bolted in the centre of the foredeck. The clucking of its inhabitants was strangely incongruous against the occasional screech of seagulls. Jemeryl took a seat on the roof, looking out to sea, and indicated that Tevi should join her. Klara launched herself from Tevi's shoulder and perched on the railing, facing them.

"It's all right, we can talk. Klara will let me know if anyone comes near." Jemeryl said.

Tevi let out a small sigh. "Good. How have you been? I heard you weren't too well yesterday. Seasickness?"

"No. I was fine. It was just an excuse to avoid eating in the captain's cabin."

"Isn't the cooking any good?"

"Oh, first rate for aboard ship. It's the goldsmith that gives me indigestion. He manages to grovel and boast at the same time." Jemeryl sounded disgusted.

Tevi laughed softly. "The problems that come with privilege."

"I've tried sarcasm to shut him up. I think I might have to move on to thinly veiled threats. How have you been?"

"Fine."

"And Klara?"

"She's been fine as well. Nobody seems the least surprised by a mercenary with a tame magpie on her shoulder all the time." A frown crossed Tevi's face. "Though I'm still not happy with the reasons why I've got her."

"I've told you why. All Coven establishments have extra-dimensional shields built into their walls, and Ekranos is no exception. Once I'm inside, I won't be able to scry you out, or pass messages magically. But my link with Klara is so deep that I ought to be able to maintain residual contact with her. In an emergency I'd only need to step outside the school gates to talk to you via her."

"It's not the magic side I'm unhappy with."

"Then what?"

"It's the nature of these potential emergencies. I don't like the thought of you alone and in danger."

"Then consider her a source of reassurance. As long as Klara doesn't start acting like a wild magpie, you know I'm all right."

"And if she does start acting like a wild magpie?"

"Grab the warrant and rush to the school as fast as you can." Jemeryl replied.

It was not very comforting. Tevi stared across the waves. The distant coast was little more than a thin dark line, smudged on the horizon.

"Have you had any further thoughts about this forbidden spell of Lorimal's?" Tevi asked after a long pause.

"I've been reading up on the rules for all the things I'm not allowed to try. One large section of the forbidden list is to do with reversing death - things like attempting to create zombies. Incidentally, all experiments have failed, but some very nasty things have happened along the way. The search for immortality is also strictly forbidden since it involves similar immoral practices, such as trying to usurp a younger person's body."

"What else is on the list?"

"We aren't allowed to enslave the ungifted, and anything which might undermine the Protectorate's economy or cause wide-scale destruction is banned." Jemeryl forehead creased in thought. "I'd say the most tempting infraction is to change the past, which is theoretically possible, but very dangerous."

"Do sorcerers outside the Coven ever try to do it?" Tevi asked.

"Some have. The spots where they made the attempt are usually marked by rather large craters." Jemeryl's dry tone made Tevi chuckle. "After that you get to esoteric experiments, like infinite loops impinging on physical space, but you'd have to be a bit unbalanced to want to try those to start with."

"You're a young ambitious sorcerer, like Lorimal. What would tempt you to break the rule and poke into things you shouldn't?"

Tevi took a quick sideways glance. Jemeryl's mouth was open in mock outrage, before her face collapsed into an easy grin. "Would I do a thing like that?"

"I know a hundred or so villagers who'd say yes."

"I thought we'd agreed they misunderstood me?"

"Maybe."

"Anyway, it's not the same. Lorimal was an herbalist, which is probably my weakest discipline. It's certainly not going to strain my acting ability to play the part of someone in need of improving her skill."

"So where does this leave us?"

Jemeryl chewed her lower lip. "If I had to make a guess, I'd go for Lorimal's spell being a method of mind control. There are several drugs that make people more malleable and we know her speciality was formulas producing permanent physical or mental effects. She may have produced a potion that would turn people into mindless slaves."

"Is that likely? The Guardian said she wasn't malicious, just naive."

"I'm afraid there are some sorcerers who are convinced the world would be a happier place if everyone obeyed the Coven's wishes without question."

"Wouldn't it..."

Tevi was cut short by a hissed whisper. "Someone's coming." Raising her voice Jemeryl continued. "Was it difficult to train the magpie?"

"Er... I didn't do the work myself." Tevi picked up on the cue. "I got Klara from a friend when she was already tame."

"That was kind, to give her to you."

"The person is a very good friend of mine."

Jemeryl stood up. "It's been nice talking to you. We must..." her face shifted through a range of expressions. "talk again soon." She moved off down the deck.

"Good morning, ma'am." It was Etta's voice.

Even before Jemeryl's footsteps had completely faded away her place on the chicken coop was taken by the talkative trader.

"She seems very pleasant - for a sorcerer." Etta said.

Tevi made a noncommittal sound by way of agreement.

"You were having quite a cosy chat. I didn't interrupt anything did I?"

"We were just talking."

Etta was silent - a rare enough occurrence to cause Tevi to turn and looked at her.

"What is it?"

"I suppose she was the one who came over to talk to you?" Etta's tone was hinting at something.

"Yes."

"Do you think she's nice?" Etta definitely had something in mind.

"What do you mean?"

"Well... a couple of times now, when you've both been on deck, I've noticed her watching you. At first I thought it might be trouble, I didn't know if I should warn you. But then I thought, Ah-ha, I know what 'that' look means. Now, I don't know how you feel about sorcerers. I mean, I think they're human like anyone else, but I know they give some people the creeps. One of my uncle's neighbours is a gardener at the school and she says..."

"You think what?" Tevi interrupted, confused.

"Sorry, I'm rambling. To get back to what I was saying. She's definitely got her eye on you. I think she likes you." The trader smiled slyly and nudged Tevi with her elbow. "I'd say, if you're interested, play your cards right and you're in with a chance."

*****

Another two days and Etta was not alone in speculating. Tevi was beset by advice from passengers and crew alike. There was little in the way of entertainment on the ship and gossip was the main pastime, although opinion was sharply divided. Few expressed any great dislike of Jemeryl personally. Many more were moved by a general wariness of the Coven and felt that Tevi would be ill-treated. "You can't trust sorcerers. They just use ordinary folk." and, "It's not right for us to get mixed up with the Coven." were typical remarks. Etta, with her enthusiasm, was in a marked minority.

Late one evening, Tevi was sitting on deck, playing dice with a group of passengers. The door to Jemeryl's cabin opened and Jemeryl herself emerged. The sorcerer wandered across to the side of the ship and leaned on the railing, with the apparent intention of watching the sunset. Tevi was aware that a lot of people were looking pointedly in her own direction - and it wasn't down to waiting for her to throw the dice.

Unsubtle as ever, Etta dug her in the ribs. "Go on, talk to her."

The anticipation on the faces about her was more than Tevi could take. She stood up, brushed the dust and rope fibres from her clothes and strolled over to where Jemeryl was standing. Tevi reached the rail and rested her elbows on it. A glance back confirmed the impression that absolutely no one on deck was minding their own business. Etta's young son scrambled to his feet and bounced forward as if to join them. His mother grabbed him by his jerkin and dragged him back. At the same time, she sent an encouraging gesture to Tevi that was probably meant to be discreet.

Tevi turned her gaze out to sea and sighed.

"How are things?" Jemeryl whispered.

"A strain."

"Why?"

"It's not so bad for you. I've got everyone on board giving me advice and suggestions about how to deal with you."

"And what are the suggestions?" Jemeryl was amused.

"Most people think I should avoid you completely, though they aren't too specific on how I do it on a ship this size."

"You find it upsetting?" Jemeryl asked softly.

"Yes." Tevi's eyes fixed on the horizon as she searched for words. "I don't understand people in the Protectorate. Even Marith, who was a really nice, sensible woman, talked about sorcerers as if you were some sort of bizarre monstrosity. I've known people credit more human emotions to their pet dogs than they do to sorcerers. They can't seem to see..." her voice faded away.

Jemeryl looked solemn. "I think I know what you mean, but I've grow up with it, so I take most of it for granted." She paused. "I wasn't popular when I was a child, back in my home village. It's the same for all sorcerers. The other children knew I was different, some of the older ones tried to pick on me... they soon learned not to. But even when they weren't being deliberately unpleasant, I was still isolated. As I got older and my powers developed, they started to avoid me and treated me... like a sorcerer. Even the adults were very polite and very distant. It was probably wise of them. Children aren't good at restraining their temper. We learn a lot about self-control at the Coven." Her lips shifted into a rueful smile. "It cuts down on the number of talking frogs you meet."

"A shame. I could nominate a few on board who'd be better as frogs." It wasn't clear from Tevi's tone how much she was joking.

The two of them stood in silence for a while, before Jemeryl asked, "Would people be appalled if we made it obvious we were lovers?"

Tevi weighed it up. "Maybe a fifth of them would be, and there's an equal sized group who'd think it perfectly all right."

"And the others?"

"They'd be against it on principle, but privately delighted to have something exciting to gossip about."

Jemeryl laughed softly. "Perhaps we should give them their chance to be shocked."

Deliberately, Jemeryl slid along the railing so their shoulders touched. After a few minutes of standing like that, she slowly moved her arm to encircle Tevi's waist.

Tevi half expected to hear a mixed chorus of gasps, boos and cheers from the deck behind them.

Disclaimers: see part 1

Map of the Protectorate

Part Three - The Traitor

Chapter 1: Rendezvous in Ekranos

The sound of waves, beating against the rocks below, came softly through the thick green glass. Jemeryl paused for a moment and stared through the window, scrunching her eyes half-shut against the brilliant sunshine outside. The sea was dotted with boats as far as the horizon; small fishing craft, trailing their nets, and the larger cargo ships, laden with merchandise, slicing through the waves. A seagull, rising on the updraft created by the cliffs, steadied for a moment then soared away.

The School of Herbalism stood on high cliffs to the west of town. Another headland rose on the far side of the bay, several miles distant. The rocks around its base formed a jagged fringe in the surf. Its top was crowned with a lighthouse - a thin dark finger, pointing up at the cloudless morning sky. On the coast between the school and the lighthouse lay the wide estuary of the river Dhaliki. The bank nearest the school was lined with the red-tiled roofs and whitewashed walls of Ekranos. A soft smile lifted the corners of Jemeryl's lips. Somewhere in the town was Tevi, working for the port authorities.

"Hey. Stop gawking out the window and give me a hand - or is something happening out there?"

The voice recalled Jemeryl to her surroundings. She turned away from the window and smiled apologetically at the speaker, while her eyes adjusted to the subdued light of the hospital ward. Jemeryl's study partner, Vine, was sitting a few feet away by the cot of one of the patients. The expression of eager curiosity on Vine's face caused Jemeryl a flicker of amusement. Vine was renown for a fanatical love of gossip, and was equally effective in both the gathering and spreading of rumours. Her superiors could only wish that she would devote a fraction of the enthusiasm to her work as junior sorcerer in the school.

"No, you're not missing anything at all. My mind was just wandering."

Vine's face fell slightly. She shrugged and held out the bloody bandage she had just removed. "Oh well. Throw this away and get some clean water. We need to wash the bite."

Somewhat gingerly, Jemeryl took the soiled linen. She dropped it in one of the containers at the end of the ward, while trying hard to avoid seeing or smelling the other unsavoury contents of the bin - and the combined aura was definitely best ignored. There was a stone sink nearby. She rinsed her hands before filling a shallow bowl and returning to the patient. A few drops of antiseptic turned the water purple, then Vine dipped a cloth in the solution and began to wash the patient's wound.

The man in the cot moaned faintly, in a semiconscious stupor. He was a porter who had been bitten by a rat that was hiding between sacks of grain on the quay. The wound had become infected and the porter was carried to the school, running a high fever and delirious. The bite was now an ugly ring of black and purple. Jemeryl's stomach lurched at the sight of the dark scabs, stark against the swollen, bloodless skin. She busied herself by taking another cloth and wiping the patient's face. A fine row of sweat stood in beads along the man's upper lip. His eyes were glassy and unfocused.

"The bite is clean. No sign of any more pus." Vine noted cheerfully.

Jemeryl clenched her teeth. She hated working in the hospital. Sunshine flooded through the high windows but for Jemeryl the rooms held a murkiness the light could not pierce.

Herbalism and medicine had always been her least favourite magical discipline, and the addition of genuine patients had not improved her liking. It was hard to believe that any sorcerer would willingly chose this work, when there were so many other fields of magic to explore, yet many did. Jemeryl tried to take comfort from knowing she was lucky not to have been sent to the school before, as part of her general training. It was a fate that had befallen several of her fellow apprentices from Lyremouth. At least her present stay in Ekranos did not need to be a long one.

The porter gave another rasping moan. Lank hair clung to the sweat on his brow. He seemed to be making failed attempts to swallow. The sound twanged a chord of concern for Jemeryl. She stared into the man's face.

"Something's not right. His aura is more distorted than you'd expect." Jemeryl said uncertainly.

Vine chewed her lip thoughtfully. "Maybe."

"Should we ask Neame to take look at him?"

"It might be an idea."

"I'll find her." Jemeryl hurried off in search of Neame.

The hospital was a large collection of buildings on the eastern side of the school, laid out with trees and scented bushes. It would take a long time to search them all. Fortunately Neame was not far away. Jemeryl found her in an adjacent ward, deep in conversation with a senior witch at the foot of a cot containing a gaunt, elderly patient.

While waiting politely, Jemeryl studied the senior sorcerer, who was both head of the hospital wing and deputy to the principal. In Jemeryl's mind, just about the only good thing to the hospital was the chance to watch Neame at work. In the days since she had arrived, Jemeryl had acquired a great respect for the woman - even though Neame was one of the main suspects.

Lips pursed, Neame was listening to her assistant. Her forehead was puckered in a distracted frown. She was a plump woman in her mid-fifties, with peppered grey hair twisted in an untidy braid at the back of her neck. Much of it had escaped and the wispy loose strands were tucked carelessly behind her ears. Her clothes gave the impression they were following her around purely out of habit. Her face would have been very ordinary, were it not marked by intelligence and determination. Her manner would have been brusque, were it not underlain by a deep sense of compassion. Jemeryl knew it was an emotional response, but she could not help hoping that Neame was innocent.

Eventually the deputy nodded and murmured something quietly. The witch disappeared through a side door. Neame pushed the hair back from her eyes.

"What is it?" Neame asked, noticing Jemeryl for the first time.

"Please ma'am. I wonder if you could come and take a look at one of the patients."

"Of course."

Neame followed Jemeryl back through the wards. At the sight of their approach, Vine vacated the stool, allowing the senior sorcerer to take her place. The condition of the patient had not changed. Neame studied him intently, her fingertips just touching his forehead.

She sighed and glanced back at the two younger sorcerers. "The rat was diseased. Not surprising. A healthy rat would have run away when it heard the dock workers."

Neame picked up a small slate from the nearby table. She chalked a hasty note, underlining the last line, before passing it over to Jemeryl. "We need different medication. Go to dispensary and ask Orrago for this." She hesitated. "Have you met Orrago yet?"

"No ma'am."

Neame looked at Vine. "You'd better go as well and introduce them. I'll take care of things here."

"Yes ma'am."

The air outside smelt clean. The bushes that lined the path were alive with the sounds of insects and the rustle of leaves. Black dots of seagulls wove through the updrafts against a brilliant blue sky. Jemeryl took a deep breath and ran both hands through her hair, as if trying to brush away the aura of sickness that filled the hospital wards. She glanced at the other young sorcerer.

Vine's expression was untroubled. She was shorter than Jemeryl by half a head, with a mat of straight black hair framing a round, good-natured face. She had a small, flat nose and a large, white smile. A guttural burr of an accent betrayed her origins, far outside the Protectorate. Jemeryl had learned that Vine was a nickname, short for 'The Grapevine'. Her real name was never used, mainly because it was extremely long and impossibly short on vowels.

"I don't know how you can be so cheerful in the hospital." Her tone held more emotion than Jemeryl had intended.

Vine shrugged. "You get used to it. You've only been here ten days. I've had fourteen years."

"Fourteen years!"

"Fifteen come summer."

"You must have been very young when you arrived."

"I was. I'm from a tiny tribe, way down south in the rain forest. I don't think they'd ever had a sorcerer born there before. My family didn't know how to deal with me, but they'd heard of the Coven. They got river traders to bring me here, in exchange for..." Vine's nose wrinkled. "something or the other - probably intoxicating. I was dumped in Ekranos, not knowing a word of the language. I think I caused a bit of commotion on the quay - you know what a seven-year-old sorcerer can be like. Fortunately, no one got seriously hurt. They coaxed me up to the school and I've been here ever since."

"You weren't sent on to Lyremouth?"

"I went there to take my oath and stayed a few months, but I came back as soon as I could."

"Why?" Jemeryl's voice betrayed her incredulity.

"My gift is best suited to herbalism. I think it's the influence of the rain forest. I like plants."

"The plants are all right. It's the hospital I find a strain."

"I can tell you aren't happy, but it really does get a lot easier with time."

"Maybe." Jemeryl sighed. "I'm just glad I've got a free afternoon, so I can put some distance between me and the wards."

"You're lucky. I've got to work with Tapley and his precious ravens."

"It can't be worse than the hospital."

"It is, believe me, it is." Vine groaned for effect. "But what are you doing this afternoon? I heard you're going into town. Do you have any plans?"

"I'm meeting someone." Jemeryl said cautiously, knowing that anything told to Vine would be circulating the entire school by sunset.

"Known them long?"

"We met on the boat from Lyremouth." Jemeryl tried to sound nonchalant.

"Are they a... good friend?"

Vine was on the trail of gossip. Fortunately the dispensary was at hand, curtailing the conversation before Jemeryl was pushed for an answer.

As they reached the door Vine came to an abrupt halt and looked at Jemeryl hesitantly. "You've not met Orrago yet?"

"No."

"You may find her a bit surprising - nothing to worry about." Vine added quickly. "It's just she's very old and her wits are going. She used to be principal, but she had to resign. A great shame. She looks after the dispensary now - sort of. She's not really up to the job. You'll see what I mean."

Vine tapped softly on the oak door. "I wouldn't want to wake her if she's asleep." she explained, but an elderly voice called out indistinctly.

An obstacle prevented the door from opening fully, and Vine had to slip sideways through the gap. Jemeryl followed dubiously. She came to a halt just inside the room and stared around in bewilderment.

A sweet, acrid smell pervaded everywhere. Mounds of dried vegetable matter littered every horizontal surface, stacked between precariously balanced bottles. Several opened crates stood in the centre of the room, their contents as yet unpacked. It had been one of these blocking the door.

Vine was making her way towards a high-backed armchair, positioned in the sunlight beside a tall window. She beckoned to Jemeryl to follow. It required great care not to dislodge anything, but Jemeryl managed to squeeze passed the overflowing ledges, and eventually was able to face the chair's occupant.

An old woman sat wrapped in a thick woollen blanket. Wispy strands of white hair made a halo in the sunlight. Her face was deeply lined, as was the sunken skin between the protruding knuckles on her hands. Pale eyes blinked uncertainly. Yet, Jemeryl could sense the remnants of great power. In her day, Orrago had been one of the Coven's foremost sorcerers.

Vine spoke slowly and distinctly. "Excuse me ma'am. I've come to collect some things and want to introduce you to Jemeryl. She's been sent here to study herbalism."

The watery eyes examined Jemeryl thoughtfully. "You're like... what's her name... young Iralin." A frown crossed the lined face. "I haven't seen her for a while. Ask her to pop in and see me."

Jemeryl opened her mouth to speak, and then closed it again. As the ancient face smiled benignly in her direction she finally said, "I think you're confused, ma'am. Iralin is a senior sorcerer at Lyremouth. She was my tutor."

"Oh no, she's a young thing, here to brush up her herbalism."

Vine spoke softly. "No ma'am. Jemeryl is right. It's a long time since Iralin was here."

Orrago's gaze drifted away, a pained expression crossed her face. She tapped her hand on the arm of the chair. "Maybe, maybe. People are getting to be like that."

Vine stepped into the silence, "Neame has given us a list of drugs she needs." She held out the slate but Orrago bushed it aside.

"Let Frog see to it." Orrago's voice rose to a high-pitched waver. "Frog, come and be useful."

There was scrabbling from behind a pile of books, and a large speckled toad hopped down from where it had been basking, unnoticed, in the sun. It crossed the floor in a strange waddling walk, and then leapt onto the elderly sorcerer's lap to examine the slate.

"Frog will sort it out. I want to rest." Orrago declared. Her eyes closed and she snuggled back into her chair.

With obvious affection, Vine leaned down and tucked the blanket around the ancient sorcerer. Orrago's features relaxed. Her hand reached out and squeezed Vine's, before falling back to her lap.

The two young sorcerers manoeuvred their way to the other end of the dispensary, where Frog was by now almost completely buried under a pile of papers. Only its webbed feet were visible, splaying out behind. A period of scrabbling followed, before it re-emerged, dragging a vial of yellow liquid. Jemeryl watched as it lurched across the desk and again disappeared from sight - this time squirming into a half-open drawer.

"Why does Orrago call him Frog? Surely she knows it's a toad?" Jemeryl asked.

Before answering, Vine glanced down the dispensary. From Orrago's chair came the soft rasping of snores. "It's a joke of hers. She's aware she calls everyone the wrong name. She gets confused - she'll probably call you Iralin next time you meet. She called him Frog because she didn't see why a small amphibian should be the only one in the school she addresses correctly."

A succession of dull bumps and a forlorn croak were heard inside the drawer. Frog crawled onto the bench with its mouth holding a small bag, which it then laid beside the vial. Next, Frog headed towards a large box, half-shoved under a bench. While they waited for its return Vine took a leather-bound book from a shelf by the door and demonstrated how to enter items in the dispensary record. It was not long before Frog's task was complete. It regarded them with moist, bulging eyes for a moment, then croaked a mournful good-bye, and bounded to the ground. It waddled back to its spot in the sun.

Once they were outside again, Jemeryl asked, "How long has Orrago been like that?"

"She retired as principal six years ago, but her mind had been going for some time before that. Most of us hoped Neame would take over as principal - she was deputy to Orrago, but Bramell got the post."

"Why not Neame?" Jemeryl asked, surprised.

Vine merely shrugged by way of answer.

Back in the ward, Neame had been busy with the patient. Already he was more alert. His eyes followed her every move - in fact all the conscious patients were watching from their cots. Jemeryl knew Neame was trusted and admired by everyone who worked in the hospital. In the patients, Neame inspired a devotion that could only be called love. Jemeryl could understand the reaction. Neame was able, by her mere presence, to lighten the oppressive atmosphere of the wards.

At Neame's direction, Jemeryl and Vine supported the patient while he drank the contents of a tumbler. Once he was back, lying on the cot, Neame turned to the two younger sorcerers. She picked up the vial of liquid, and embarked on a lesson.

"You see how the effervescence fades off through the shadow-axis." She indicated a strand of the fifth dimension.

"Yes, ma'am." Vine nodded quickly.

Jemeryl was less certain.

"This is what we need to de-skew the synthesis with the other two components. Watch how their auras combine."

The porter closed his eyes and relaxed, drifting off to sleep as the drugs took effect.

*****

Midday was approaching by the time the porter's treatment was finished. While Neame worked, the squares of light falling through the window had edged across the floor. They now lay as thin bars of dazzling silver on the windowsill. Someone had opened the door at the end of the ward to allow a breeze to circulate. The sound of waves and birds drifted down the long room. The porter was sleeping peacefully. The skin around the bite was still swollen and raw, but the bloodless sheen was gone and his breathing was soft and even.

"Did you follow the final stages?" Neame asked.

Vine nodded enthusiastically.

Jemeryl's face held a puzzled frown. "I saw how you tied things together in the fifth dimension, but I'm not sure I'd be able to do it myself."

Neame smiled at Jemeryl kindly. "I wouldn't expect you to. It needs a lot of practice. But you saw why I was doing it?"

"Most of it made sense. Perhaps if I read up on it..." Jemeryl trailed off optimistically.

"You must take the time to make sure you understand. Someday people's lives may depend on your knowing what to do. Books are no substitute for experience."

"Yes, ma'am." Jemeryl sighed, deflated. Whatever else, experience was not in short supply at the hospital. Her lack of enthusiasm must have shown.

Neame patted her on the arm. "Don't worry. We've done enough for now. If you tidy the things away..." she said, indicating Vine "You, Jemeryl, can take a message to Bramell. Tell him I won't be able to go to the meeting this afternoon. I'd like to stay with this patient. The next few hours might be crucial." Neame nodded in dismissal, but then added, "Oh... and can you see the cook and have my lunch sent over?"

"Yes ma'am."

At the exit, Jemeryl paused and looked back. Neame was standing at the foot of the bed, making ineffectual attempts to poke stray wisps of hair into place. At the same time her eyes were fixed on the porter and her astral projection was soothing the tangled strands in his aura, like a parent wiping the forehead of a sleeping child. The morning's work had been long and complex; Jemeryl was tired from just watching. It was amazing Neame could still see straight, yet her attention was given to the sick man. This was what the patients sensed - the depth of her commitment.

If Neame's compassion is felt so keenly by the ungifted, is it surprising the villagers were able to spot my own disinterest? The thought was an uncomfortable jab to Jemeryl's conscience. She left quickly and set off to deliver Neame messages. The sun was warm on her face and the breeze carried the scent of fragrant plants, however her mood took longer than usual to pick up after leaving the ward.

The primary route through the hospital complex terminated at a small courtyard, just inside the main gates. Several other paths converged on this cobbled area, including an imposing archway that opened onto the central square of the school. All of the most important buildings were situated here. Jemeryl paused in the shadow of the arch and considered the view. The main square itself was a wide grassy area, colonnaded by stumpy fruit trees. On the far side rose the white stone walls of the library, three stories high. To the north, a long low building housed the senior sorcerers' residence. The other two sides were filled with an assortment of academic and administration facilities, including Jemeryl's destination, the principal's chambers.

There was one solitary clerk, a young witch, in the scriptorium outside Bramell's office, supervising the work of three animated quill pens.

"Is Bramell in his office?" Jemeryl asked.

"Of course." The witch glanced over his shoulder before continuing, "You didn't think he'd be off looking at potions or something, did you?"

"I must admit I didn't bother searching the hospital before I came here."

"Wise. The only thing he'll happily doctor are the accounts. That's why they're so healthy."

It was a variant on a joke Jemeryl had already heard - much of the graffiti in the junior washroom was concerned with Bramell's lack of interest in herbalism. Whatever his talents as a sorcerer might be, the man had the heart and mind of a bureaucrat.

The principal looked up from the neatly arranged papers on his desk when Jemeryl entered. He regarded her with steady blue eyes. The first impression he gave was of confidence and efficiency; middle-age and authority added strength to his natural good looks. The second impression was of inflexibility and aloofness. Even sitting, he gave the impression of looking down his nose. Jemeryl made an effort not to fidget; something in Bramell's manner always made her feel like a misplaced child.

"What is it?" Bramell's voice matched his appearance, firm and well-balanced.

"Excuse me sir. I have a message from Neame. She won't be able to attend the meeting after lunch, as she has to monitor a patient. She sends her apologies."

The news clearly annoyed Bramell. His lips drew together into a tight line, but he held back any comments - it would not be proper to criticise a senior sorcerer in Jemeryl's presence.

"Would you like me to take a reply, sir?"

"No. You may go." It was a blunt dismissal, leaving Jemeryl in no doubt as to her junior status.

Once outside again, she continued on her way around the main square. Jemeryl weighed up the idea of Bramell as the renegade sorcerer. She knew Bramell was generally respected but not admired. He ran the school with firm efficiency, based on scrupulous attention to rules, but he lacked vision. Despite appearances, Jemeryl suspected that he possessed no real inner strength. Jemeryl could not picture Bramell being the one to take Lorimal's chalice; he lacked both the courage and the imagination.

An onslaught of noise shattered Jemeryl's deliberation as a group of apprentices burst from a nearby doorway. Shouting and laughing, the young witches and sorcerers streamed passed, jostling among themselves in a more or less good-natured way. Jemeryl followed in a more sedate fashion, as befitting one wearing a sorcerer's black amulet. The training of healers was one of the most important functions of the school - Jemeryl just wished it could be accomplished at a lower volume. She was certain her classmates in Lyremouth had not been so loud.

The apprentices were soon out of sight, heading towards their dormitories. The barrack-like blocks were set as far from the main square as was possible while remaining on site. School accommodation was granted strictly according to rank. Apprentices and servants lived in dormitories, while witches were two or three to a room. As a sorcerer, Jemeryl had her own bedroom, although she shared a study with Vine. The seniors got whole suites to themselves. It gave them plenty of space to carry out forbidden research. Jemeryl frowned as she considered the situation. It would all be a lot easier if she could simply search the seniors' quarters.

A short walk through interlinked courtyards brought Jemeryl to the refectory. Through the open doors, she could see long rows of tables laid ready for the midday meal. Servants paced the hall, laying out the baskets of bread. The adjacent kitchen doors were also open, allowing cool air to enter, and sound and smells to leave. From twenty yards away, Jemeryl caught the aroma of roasting meat and heard the cook bellow.

"You girl! Stop playing with the swedes or I'll take the meat-clever to you!"

The threats continued unabated until the moment the cook caught sight of Jemeryl. Abruptly his manner changed, mid-sentence, to one of self-abasement, complete with cringing posture and sickly smile.

"Good morning ma'am. Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Neame would like her dinner over in the hospital." Jemeryl said, pleasantly.

"Of course, ma'am. It would be a pleasure. Was there anything specific she wanted?"

"No. I think she'll be quite happy with whatever's going."

"Thank you, ma'am. That's very, very kind of you."

The cook's transformation was startling - to put it mildly. Jemeryl wondered if he had once yelled at a sorcerer and was keen never to make the same mistake again. She would have to ask Vine. In the meantime the grovelling performance had her struggling to keep a straight face, particularly since, over his shoulder, see could see a teenage girl juggling with three large swedes, to the admiration of her friends.

Whatever the cause, the cook's personality change did not last a second after Jemeryl's departure. Before she had gone a dozen steps, his voice rose again to its customary roar. "Don't do that to the soup - use a spoon!"

The junior sorcerers' quarters took the form of a long two-story building, in the typical Ekranos fashion of whitewashed plaster and red roof tiles. Access to the rooms on the upper floor, including the study shared by Vine and Jemeryl, was via an open wooden veranda that ran the length of the building.

Jemeryl climbed the stairway at the end and walked along to her doorway. The study inside was not large, although the polished wooden floor and white walls made it seem light and airy. There was a window and two doors that lead to the adjoining bedrooms. Two desks completely filled one wall. The only other furniture was a bookcase and a battered reading chair, piled with faded cushions. A fair amount of rubbish was strewn about - virtually all of it belonged to Vine.

Jemeryl stood and stared vacantly through the window. In a few hours' time, she would be with Tevi. It was their first chance to meet since the day after their arrival in Ekranos, when Tevi had taken contract as a customs officer, ensuring the payment of port taxes and curtailing the smuggling of contraband. Work at the port involved long hours in an erratic shift rota that followed the tides. Meeting would not be possible anything like as often as Jemeryl would have wished, but that afternoon their free time coincided. Tevi's watch was due to finish in the early afternoon and she was not due back on duty until dawn. There would be plenty of time for talk - and other things.

For the first time since leaving the ward, a broad smile spread across Jemeryl's face.

*****

Sunlight filtered down through the open hatch. It formed a bright patch in the middle of the ship's hold, but did not penetrate the distant corners and the mounds of barrels, crates and sacks that were stored there. It took the four customs officers some time to be sure nothing was hidden in the gloomy interior. In fact, it would have taken all day to fully search the hold, but there were other, quicker methods.

While her colleagues made a show of prodding sacks and prising open the occasional crate, Tevi surreptitiously keep her eyes on the ship's mate, noting how he stood, where he looked, and where he avoided looking. It was a truism that while a captain might be unaware of what was happening on the ship, the mate always knew. Even if they weren't directly involved, they would have strong suspicions. Nine times out of ten, their demeanour would betray them - if you knew what to look for. It had already been discovered that Tevi had a talent for it. A nose, as one old hand had put it.

"Is your side clear, Tevi?" one of her colleagues called out.

"Yep, I'm happy." Tevi answered the question that had been meant, rather than the one asked. In her opinion, the ship's mate was feeling guilty about something, but not contraband. It was probably an indiscretion in town, and everyone knew that sailors could be very indiscreet.

The sunlight was dazzling after the gloom of the hold. The sounds of the dock were no longer muted through the heavy wooden hull - the creak of rigging, the shouts of dock workers and the rush of the sea. Everywhere, sailors were busy, making the ship ready for departure. Tevi and the others found the senior customs officer in a patch of calm by the gangplank, talking politely with the ship's captain.

"Fore and aft holds both clear, ma'am." Tevi reported.

"Good. Wait for me on the dock."

"Yes, ma'am."

The four of them sauntered down the gangplank and went to join the small group of mercenaries, assembling on the quay. They were greeted by a teasing shout. "What kept you? We've been waiting ages."

"Some of us like to do a job properly." one of Tevi's colleagues retorted.

"True, some of us do, but that doesn't explain why you took so long."

It was the standard mercenary banter that Tevi remembered from the guildhall at Lyremouth. The disparaging jokes masked a strong team spirit. It was a way of interacting made necessary by the demands of mercenary life. Mercenaries would live together, fight together, risk their lives for each other, then maybe bury someone and move on to the next job. They had to be close, but detached.

The friendly insults continued, frequently drawing laughter, until the senior customs officer joined them on the quay and raised her voice for silence.

"Okay, that's it for today. You've got the rest of the afternoon off, but I expect to see you here at first light tomorrow. And I warn you; hangovers or other self-inflicted injuries will get no sympathy from me. If you can't work, you won't get paid."

The senior officer was also in good humour and smiled at the ritual jeers that greeted her threat. It was all part of the game and had no effect on the high-spirits as the mercenaries debated their plans for the evening on their stroll back to the guildhall.

"What do you say we all go to Dano's?" was one suggestion.

"Nah. The Navie has a more..." the speaker paused for a effect, "accommodating clientele. And I feel lucky tonight."

"That's more than I can say for whoever you pick up." someone threw back.

"I've never had any complaints."

"Probably because they all fall asleep from boredom."

Amid the general laughter, one member of the group embarked on an exaggerated and vaguely obscene pantomime. "Who's rocking the boat? (yawn) Tell the captain I feel seasick. (snore)"

Another person turned to Tevi and asked, "What about you. Have you been to the Navie yet?"

Tevi shook her head. "No I haven't, and I'm afraid I can't go with you tonight. I've arranged to see a friend." Her words raised a chorus of whoops.

"That's quick work. Hasn't been in town five minutes."

"Will you be seeing a lot of your friend?"

"Or will you be too horizontal to get a good view?"

Tevi laughed, though she could feel a faint blush rising to her face, "It's someone I met on the journey here."

"So you're not going to deny it's a lover?"

Taking Tevi's abashed expression as a 'yes', one man put his arm around her shoulder and said, "You know, I don't understand it. This person could have someone handsome, charming, sophisticated and witty like me, but instead they've let themself be picked up by you. Why?"

"Perhaps Tevi's friend values critical self-awareness." Someone else answered for her.

There was no letup in the attempted wisecracks as the group continued along the avenue away from the waterfront. They left the wharves and warehouses behind and entered the part of town that serviced the needs of sailors, full of cheap brothels and rowdy taverns - including the infamous Navie, which could fairly be described as either.

Ekranos was a sprawling affair of low buildings and open, tree-lined squares, designed for the hot summers - a lazy town, with the air of an overgrown village. The houses were characterised by whitewashed walls, deep windows and brightly coloured awnings. Only the main roads were paved; the rest were hard packed earth, dusty even after the spring rains. The people were friendly, noisy and relaxed.

The avenue opened onto the old market square; a slow backwater, even by the standards of Ekranos. It was little used for trade since the creation of the new market on the east side of town, many years before. The cobbles were cracked, with a few potholes showing. The buildings looked the worse for age. The fountain in the centre was dry and, judging by the weeds growing in its basin, had been so for some time. However, Ekranos was a wealthy town. The neglect was almost deliberate. The square seemed comfortable rather than derelict; like a well-worn but favourite pair of boots.

On one side stood the mercenary guildhall. Its proud red and gold standard hung motionless in the warm afternoon air. The doors and shutters were open to allow what breeze there was to circulate. The group of young mercenaries dawdled for a while inside the lofty entrance hall, finalising arrangements for the evening. Their laughter echoed in the cool interior. It reached a crescendo when Tevi took her leave.

A barrage of whoops and ribald remarks followed her up the stairway. They made her laugh, despite her doubts as to what Jemeryl might think if she could hear them. She also suspected that her colleagues would not be so free with their innuendoes if they realised they were unwittingly referring to a sorcerer.

Tevi reached the room she shared with two other junior mercenaries. It had a polished wooden floor and three narrow bunks, each with a shelf above the pillow and a large chest at its foot. Everything was clean and functional, although holding little in the way of luxury. A window looked down on one of the dusty side streets. The dull green paint on its half-closed shutters was crazed and flaking from the sun.

Few personal items were on show: a comb on one of the chests, a scabbard propped in one corner, a damp shirt hung by the window to dry. There was also Klara, asleep on the shelf above Tevi's bed, her beak buried in the soft feathers of her breast. She awoke with a soft caw and watched with interest as Tevi pulled a towel from her chest and left the room again, heading for the bathhouse.

*****

Before long Tevi returned. The dirt and tar of the docks were gone. Wet hair was plastered to her head. She was rubbing it vigorously with the driest corner of her towel, when the door opened and one of her roommates entered.

"I've got a present for Klara." he announced brightly, pulling open a small square of tarpaulin to reveal a handful of live worms.

Acting more like an overjoyed child than a hardened warrior, the young man enticed Klara onto his arm then, one at a time, fed his offerings to the grateful magpie.

"You know, the way she looks at you. You'd almost think she could talk." he said, as the last of the worms disappeared.

Tevi stopped combing her hair and looked across to where the magpie perched, clutching the well-muscled forearm of her benefactor. He was right. In Klara's bead-like eyes, Tevi also could see a spark of true intelligence burning - which meant Jemeryl was once again in close link with her familiar. The sorcerer was outside the guarding shields of the school, if not already in Ekranos.

Tevi finished buttoning her shirt and walked over to reclaim the magpie. Her roommate studied her spruced-up appearance for the first time.

"You meeting someone?" he asked.

Tevi nodded.

"Don't suppose we'll see you again tonight, then."

"I'm certainly hoping you won't." Tevi threw over her shoulder as she left the room.

Laughter followed her down the hall.

There was a scattering of people around the old market square as Tevi emerged from the guildhall: a group of sailors sprawled on steps in the shade, a noisy group of children played with a ball, a pair of mercenaries were arriving. Tevi waited until all were out of earshot before speaking to Klara, perched on her shoulder.

"Can you give directions?"

"Sure thing sweetheart. Head for the southern approach and take the third turning on your left."

In no more than fifteen minutes, Tevi had reached her destination - the Inn of Singing Birds. It was a modest establishment, located on a square in a quiet part of town, well away from the docks. The unremarkable facade blended in with the other buildings. The shutters on the downstairs windows were closed, but the wide double door was propped open by an old stick on one side and a large stone on the other. Jemeryl had evidently chosen their rendezvous in Ekranos to reduce the risk of meeting anyone they knew; the inn was neither prestigious enough for sorcerers nor lively enough for mercenaries.

Tevi stepped through the door into a long thin room. A row of tables and benches ran up either side. The floor was made up of red and white mosaic tiles and the walls were covered in uneven cream-coloured plaster. In one corner was a polished wooden counter with barrels stacked behind. From what Tevi could judge, the bar was not yet open for business but would be so before long. Tankards were lined up and a waiter was sweeping the floor.

As soon as he saw Tevi, the waiter put his broom aside and came over. "Excuse me. You are the mercenary who has come to met Madam Jemeryl?"

The words were said routinely in the lilting local accent, but Tevi could sense the disapproval. It was something she was starting to get used to. Ordinary people dared not show their resentment of the Coven, but they regarded Tevi as a traitor to her own kind. I must be predestined to have folk disapprove of my choice of lover, she thought, but it's an improvement to the islands - they aren't likely to stone me to death over it.

"Yes, is she about?" was all Tevi said aloud.

"Please, follow me."

The waiter set off at a brisk pace across the tiled floor. A narrow doorway at the rear of the bar led to a inner courtyard. From there, a flight of stairs took them to the upper floor.

"Will you be staying tonight?" The waiter asked.

"Yes."

"But you won't be requiring a separate room?"

"No, thank you." Tevi bit back a less polite reply. She was sure the waiter already knew the answer. He just wanted to make sure Tevi knew that he knew.

They stopped outside a door. "Madam Jemeryl is in here. She is expecting you." The waiter gave a curt nod and trotted back along the corridor.

Irritated by his manner, Tevi pushed open the door without knocking. She had a brief impression of polished floorboards, solid furniture and faded yellow walls. Before she had a chance to fully take stock of her surroundings, Jemeryl launched herself from a nearby chair and threw her arms around the startled mercenary, threatening to knock the pair of them over.

Prompted initially by the need to stop herself from falling, Tevi clung to Jemeryl's shoulders, swaying as she fought to steady her balance. As the risk of imminent collapse retreated, the embrace became more tender. Laughing, Tevi gently pushed Jemeryl away and looked into her eyes.

"You found your way here all right? I asked the staff to show you up when you arrived."

"I gathered that." Tevi frowned. "I don't think the waiter approves of us."

"In what way?"

"As in someone ungifted, like me, forsaking ordinary citizens and becoming a sorcerer's lover."

"Some people have overactive imaginations. He probably thinks I've bewitched you and turned you into a mindless slave who must obey my every whim, no matter how debauched or degrading."

"Better watch out Tevi - I think Jemeryl's starting to get ideas." Klara offered a warning.

Closing her eyes, Jemeryl snuggled back into Tevi's arms. "I've got the ideas already. Come on - let me show you how much I've missed you."

Chapter 2: The List of Suspects

With nightfall, the air became chill, sending most folk indoors in search of warmth. The barroom at the Inn of Singing Birds was half full of middle-aged merchants and similar guilds-folk; busy but not crowded.

It was conspicuous how everyone appeared not to notice the two young women at the rear. All eyes skipped over the corner where Jemeryl and Tevi sat. No one made any attempt to occupy the spare seats at their table. It was as if their section of the room had ceased to exist. This had to be due to Jemeryl. She had avoided making a display the black amulet on her wrist, but it was obvious that the bar-staff had informed all customers of her status. Tevi wondered what they had been told of her own situation, and how they judged her.

Candles were set in wall-holders to light the room. Gnats swarmed in small halos around the flames. A wicker cage over the bar held two canaries, presumably to authenticate the inn's name. Their high-pitched chirps shrilled over the background hum of conversation.

Klara eyed them with disdain. "Call that a singing bird! Why don't I give a rendition of The Good Ship..."

"Hush." Tevi smothered Klara's head with her hand. "You're supposed to be an ordinary pet." Tevi's eyes flicked in Jemeryl's direction as she spoke.

"Sorry. I forgot." Jemeryl apologised, with a shamefaced grin. "I've missed her. I trust she's been behaving herself?"

"Perfectly. She always does when you're not around." Tevi said pointedly.

"I did worry that she might be unruly. I can hardly feel her at all when I'm inside the school shields. Levannue has done a very effective job with them."

"Levannue?"

"One of the senior sorcerers. She's responsible for the shields."

"One of the suspects?"

"Yes, definitely."

"Have you worked out who the others are?"

Jemeryl leaned forward on the table, and rested her head at an angle against her hand. Her gaze fixed on mid-air as she collected her thoughts. "Our traitor had to be able to find out about Lorimal, recover the chalice and then work on it in secret. It lets us cut down the number of suspects. Just the requirement that they must be able to carry out unmonitored research means it has to be one of the senior sorcerers - which is what Iralin thought to start with. A junior could squeeze in the odd hour here and there, when no one was around, but it would be risky. They couldn't hide themself in a room for days on end without having to explain what they were doing."

"How many seniors are there?" Tevi asked.

"Seven."

"And how do you evaluate them?"

"Firstly there's the principal, Bramell. He can do what he likes, when he likes, without worrying about who's looking over his shoulder. On top of that, he'll know all about Lorimal. Like the three top seniors in Lyremouth, he'd have been told about her when he took the headship, so he could be on the lookout for anyone attempting to copy her work."

"So either it's him, or he's not been doing his job."

"My gut feeling is to go for the second option. It wouldn't be hard to pull the wool over his eyes - he lacks imagination. He clings to the rulebook like a limpet to a rock. It saves him having to make decisions. I don't think he trusts his own judgement, which is why I don't think he'd take Lorimal's chalice. He lacks the initiative and the nerve."

"I get this odd feeling that you don't like him." Tevi's tone was dryly ironic.

"No. I don't. He couldn't have got where he is without the ability to be a great sorcerer, but what he wants to be is a booking clerk. He's a waste of talent." Jemeryl said decisively.

"Maybe taking the chalice is his bid to show what he can do."

Jemeryl shook her head. "I don't see it. But to finish with him, the second most senior sorcerer is the deputy, Neame. She's also free to do whatever she wants. Bramell leaves everything to do with herbalism to her. In fact, if Bramell ever got his nose out of his ledgers, he'd realise that she's running the school, not him. At least, she's running all the things that matter. It's ridiculous that Bramell was ever promoted over her."

"How did Bramell get chosen?"

"It would have been a ballot of all the senior sorcerers in the Coven - a hundred or so. Most will never have met either Bramell or Neame in the flesh. Perhaps that had something to do with it - Bramell looks much more impressive from a distance."

Tevi pursed her lips. "Might Neame be bitter and out for revenge?"

"I don't think so. It's a purely personal view, but I like Neame. I admire her for all the same reasons that I don't admire Bramell. And she cares about people, the ordinary ungifted citizens - she really does. Her life is devoted to healing. I can't see her wanting to destroy the Protectorate."

"Could she have found out about Lorimal?"

"Possibly." Jemeryl conceded. "All the information about Lorimal should have been removed from the main library, but there's a restricted section where information is kept about forbidden or highly dangerous spells. It may well have something about Lorimal in there."

"Neame has access to this area?"

"Yes - as do Bramell and Moragar the librarian."

"Is Moragar our third suspect?"

Jemeryl nodded. "He doesn't have the same degree of freedom as Bramell and Neame, but he's superbly placed to read up on anything that catches his attention. And if he wants to spend hours alone in the library after it has closed at night..." Jemeryl shrugged to emphasise the point, "who's going to question it? Against him as a suspect is the fact that he only became chief librarian two and a half years ago, which was a few months after the chalice was taken. Before that, he was deputy to the previous librarian. He shouldn't have had access to the restricted books - but as we all know..."

"The mate often has more idea of what's going on than the captain." Tevi finished the sentence.

"True, although what I'd been going to say was that rules tend to get broken."

Whatever Tevi might have added was lost in a loud burst of laughter from a nearby table. The sound dropped to an embarrassed murmur as soon as Jemeryl twisted her head to look. The group of five merchants who had caused the commotion all fixed their eyes on the tabletop. A bemused frown was on Jemeryl's face when she turned back.

"Why do ungifted people assume sorcerers are offended by good humour?"

"Perhaps they're frightened you'll think they're laughing at you."

"I'm not that paranoid." Jemeryl said. "What is there about me to laugh at?"

Klara's beak opened a fraction. Tevi forestalled any comments with an admonishing finger, but a grin spread across her face. It took little to imagine what Klara would have done with a gift of a remark like Jemeryl's last.

The diversion did not last long. Tevi's thoughts reverted to the list of suspects. "Who else might have taken the chalice?"

"I guess Orrago is next in seniority. She used to be principal of the school, so she'll know all about Lorimal, but she's not a serious suspect. Sorcerers don't generally retire - we usually patch ourselves together and die on our feet. However, Orrago developed a bad case of senile dementia. That's why she had to give up the headship. From our point of view it also means she's no longer capable of anything as complex as retrieving information from a memory chalice."

"Unless her mental state is due to taking some of Lorimal's plant potion."

Jemeryl looked thoughtful. "Nobody's mentioned her talking to the geraniums, but I guess it's possible."

"How about the one you referred to first - Levannue?"

"Yes." Jemeryl's tone picked up. "I think she's a better suspect. She's in charge of non-medicinal herbalism and psychic studies. She has her own building at the edge of the hospital and a free hand to research whatever she fancies. Actually, her work is so specialised that most other sorcerers wouldn't understand what she's doing, even if she tried to talk them through it. She doesn't have access to the restricted books, but she's been Bramell's partner for years. They have three grown-up children living in Ekranos, and a couple of grandchildren as well. Maybe Bramell has told her something."

"Or perhaps he talks in his sleep." Tevi suggested.

"I can't help thinking that if Bramell talks in his sleep, he'd be reciting the regulations concerning the maintenance of school property."

"Really? Do all sorcerers do that? I'd thought it was just a strange quirk of yours."

"Don't be silly. I'm sure I have far more interesting things to say." Jemeryl grinned.

"Well, maybe." Tevi pursed her lips. "You've got two more senior sorcerer's to go. Who are they?"

"One is master of apprentices, Uwien. I don't think he's a likely candidate since he's held the post for less than a year. Before that, he ran the apprentice school at Denbury; which is about as far from Ekranos as you can get without leaving the Protectorate. Gilliart didn't think Denbury was likely to be the source of the trouble. But even if Uwien got the chalice, he'd have no time to work on it. Keeping on top of the apprentices is a full time job. I don't think he ever sits down, apart from mealtimes."

"We can't reject him. Maybe Denbury was overlooked too readily in the past, and something was missed when they suppressed the information on Lorimal."

"A good point. But the last senior is a definite non-suspect. Roddis is head of admin, and she's a senior in name only. She doesn't even have her own private office. Administration used to be Bramell's post and he's never let go. It would take a crowbar to separate him from his records. He double-checks everything Roddis does. She couldn't get away with an overdue library book, let alone researching into forbidden lore."

"That completes the list?" Tevi asked.

"That completes the list." Jemeryl confirmed.

Tevi leaned back in her chair and let her eyes roam around the bar. While they had been talking, the number of people present had dwindled. The candles on the walls had burned low; some had flickered out. In the subdued atmosphere even the canaries were quiet. Klara had fallen asleep on the table, balanced on one leg. Tevi finished her drink and put the tankard down. She idly nudged it back and forth with her forefingers, until the base lined up with two knots on the wooden surface. She had only to catch the eye of the bar-staff to have the tankard refilled, free of charge (even though she would rather have paid) but she had drunk enough.

"How do we start narrowing down the suspects?" Tevi asked.

"A good place to start is with the theft of the chalice. There are a number of trained ravens at the school, for general use, not bound to any individual. I'll bet it was one of them that was used to take the chalice."

"Why does the school keep them?"

"Collecting samples. They can pick plants from hard to reach spots or be sent out if a fresh herb is required urgently. They're big birds and can lift quite a weight; in the wild they manage a rabbit without any trouble. Plus the whole crow family is particularly suited to magic." Jemeryl smiled affectionately at Klara. "A sorcerer can take over the bird; control where it goes and what it does. It's called mind-riding. However, with Levannue's shields in place a sorcerer inside the school can't mind-ride a bird outside. I'll try to find out if anyone went off with a raven for a few days at about the time when the chalice was taken; which was..." Jemeryl paused.

"Early summer three years back." Tevi furnished the information, although Jemeryl was already well aware of the relevant date.

"Right." Jemeryl drained the last of her drink and pushed the empty tankard away. "I've had one stroke of luck, though I'm not sure if it's good or bad. I'm sharing a study with another junior sorcerer called Vine. She's the biggest gossip in the school - manages to get her nose into everything. I might even add her to the list of suspects; if she's not found out about Lorimal's spell, it must be the only secret on site that's ever been successfully hidden from her."

"Why don't you ask her who's taken the chalice?"

Jemeryl laughed. "If I get desperate I just might. She could be a useful source of information. The downside is that she may spread rumours about me. I dare not let her even begin to suspect why I'm really in Ekranos. I could tell she was dying with curiosity to know who I was meeting today. I managed to avoid her questions, but it can only be for a limited time."

"Will it cause problems if she finds out?"

"I shouldn't think Vine personally will be bothered, but it might cause problems with Bramell. The rules aren't keen on sorcerers getting emotionally involved with the ungifted. But he'll probably learn about us sooner or later. If I'm too secretive, it will only seem as if I'm trying to hide something. Anyway he can't stop me, it counts as a private matter. He has no right to interfere."

"Just as long as they can't stop us meeting." Tevi spoke softly. "I've missed you as well."

Jemeryl reached out and squeezed Tevi's hand, "I know. Come on. You've got to get up early tomorrow. Let's go back to our room."

The faint squeak as their chairs were pushed back woke Klara, who ruffled her feathers, then hopped onto Tevi's proffered wrist. Quietly, the two young women slipped out through the doorway at the rear of the bar.

*****

Jemeryl rolled over, woken by movement beside her. The moon had long since set and the room was lost in thick darkness; only the outline of the window was visible. Dawn was not far off. A gesture called the faintest of light globes into existence, barely sufficient to distinguish the shapes around her. Tevi was sitting on the side of the bed, feeling for her discarded clothing. At the soft light, she glanced over her shoulder apologetically.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you. I'm due at the docks in an hour, but there's no need for you to get up as well."

"Yes there is. I can sleep in tomorrow. This will be my last chance to talk to you for nine days." As she was speaking, Jemeryl scrambled out of bed and began to pull on her clothes.

"I don't know what there'll be for breakfast."

"I'm sure the innkeeper will have done his best. Whatever it is will be all the better for eating it with you."

Tevi laughed. "Now you're trying to sweet-talk me."

"Just keeping in practice."

There was no one about when they left their room and tiptoed downstairs, but a succession of loud snores issued from one of the common dormitories. The deep rasping bass followed them along the corridor and down the staircase at the end. Jemeryl winced at the sound. It was yet one more reason to be glad that her status as a sorcerer meant she always got private accommodation at inns. Most folk had to share a room, and even a bed, with strangers.

The predawn air was chill in the open courtyard, and the stars were undimmed. However, it was possible to discern the faintest pale tinge to the eastern skyline. The barroom was dark and deserted when they entered. The shutters were closed and chairs were stacked on tables. A thin band of light shone from under the door to the kitchen. Jemeryl push it open and poked her head around the corner.

In the light of an oil lamp, a boy was scrubbing the floor. Suds overflowed from a large wooden pail by his right knee. His clothes were nearly as wet as the fistful of rags he was using, and in only marginally better condition. At the faint squeak of the hinges he sprung to his feet, futilely trying to dry his hands on his soaking apron. He backed away, wide-eyed and nervous.

His mouth opened and closed a few times before he managed to say, "You're one of the ladies wanting early breakfast?"

"Yes please."

"Cook's left the things out."

Jemeryl waited a few seconds but no further information was forthcoming. In the end she gently prompted, "Where?"

"Oh no, sit down. I'll bring it to you... ma'am."

While he spoke, the boy's eyes kept flicking to Jemeryl's wrist. She judged that fear of sorcerers had scared him out of what few wits he had. There was little point trying to reassure him.

She let the door swing shut and joined Tevi, who had cleared one of the tables by shunting the unwanted chairs aside. Jemeryl floated a light globe a few feet above the tabletop. It glinted off the row of clean tankards hanging from the beam above the counter and cast soft shadows in the far corners of the room.

She pulled back a chair and sat down. "I think breakfast is on the way."

"You sound as if you have doubts." Tevi said, stifling a yawn.

"I wouldn't want to stake much on the abilities of our waiter for this morning."

Despite Jemeryl's misgivings, the door to the kitchen opened shortly and the boy came out, carrying a well-laden tray. With the general demeanour of a frightened rabbit, he sidled up to their table and transferred across a basket piled high with rolls, bowls of honey and butter, an irregularly shaped lump of blue-veined cheese, two empty beakers and a large jug of warm milk. Then he turned and fled back to the kitchens.

"What's up with him?" Tevi asked.

"He's frightened of me."

Klara landed on the table. "It's true that you don't look your best in the morning, but that's a bit excessive." The magpie's head swivelled in all directions, emphasising the absence of anyone who might overhear. "If you'll pardon me for murmuring."

Tevi laughed and poured milk into the beakers. "So what's our plan of action?"

Jemeryl broke open a roll before answering and, after a critical appraisal of the cheese, rejected it in favour of a generous spoonful of honey. "I want to make a thorough search of the library. Maybe a reference to Lorimal was overlooked or filed under an unlikely heading. It would be interesting to know if anyone's been showing an interest in your islands. I'll also check up on the ravens and see if a record is kept of who takes them off-site. If not, it will be down to Vine's memory to see if we can work out who could have sent the raven to Storenseg."

Tevi had been less suspicious of the cheese, and had pressed a large wedge into one of the rolls. She swallowed the last of it before speaking. "Is there anything for me to do?"

"It's a bit of a long shot, but we must remember we're not even sure the culprit is in Ekranos. One thing Iralin suggested is looking at a rare component the spell requires, made from the nectar of the bucket orchid. The drug is open to misuse, so anyone taking it is supposed to explain why they need it. If someone is working on Lorimal's spell, they couldn't openly withdraw it from the school dispensary. I'd like to see if any has gone missing. Unfortunately, I don't think we can trust Orrago's books - and not just because she's a suspect." Jemeryl looked at Tevi. "Would it be possible for you to get access to the customs' records? The nectar is very narcotic and requires a special import licence, so it will be logged. If you can make a note of how much has entered the school over the last three years, I'll see if it can all be accounted for."

"The records are kept in an office behind the docks, not far from our guardroom. It shouldn't be too hard to get a look at the books."

"Great."

"There's one problem."

Jemeryl looked up. "What?"

"I can't read."

Jemeryl caught her breath, surprised more by her own oversight than Tevi's admission. "No, I suppose not. I guess a lot of people can't." Literacy was widespread in the Protectorate, but far from universal - maybe as much as a third of the population could do little more than sign their own names. She raked her fingers back through her hair. "It doesn't matter. If you let Klara see the books, she can memorise them. I'll retrieve the information from her when we meet."

The bar was still deserted. Jemeryl picked up Klara and held the magpie level with her face. For a few seconds the two of them locked eyes, and then Jemeryl carefully returned the slightly dazed bird to the tabletop.

"She knows what she has to do. Hold the page open in front of her, say the words 'Read Klara' and she'll store the image."

"Actually, I've just realised there's another problem with Klara. I haven't time to drop her off at the guildhall."

"Don't worry. I'll see she gets back."

"People will wonder if she flies in on her own."

Jemeryl grinned "Tell them she's a homing magpie."

"Even mercenaries aren't that gullible."

"Then say a friend dropped her off. I can't imagine anyone checking."

Tevi licked the traces of honey from her fingers before pulling back the shutters of the nearest window. The roofs of the buildings on the far side of the square were silhouetted sharply against the dark-blue sky. The stars were fading. She looked uncertainly at Klara, and then shrugged. "Oh well. Hopefully no one will notice. I've got to rush off now."

A wave of cold air rippled into the room when Tevi pulled the door open. The town was emerging from darkness. A single set of footsteps echoed from a nearby street. Somewhere a shutter was flung back with a crash and the first screams of the seagulls drifted on the breeze. Jemeryl stood at the doorway to claim one last kiss, then watched as Tevi set off across the square. She stayed until the mercenary disappeared into an alley at the far side, then closed the door and looked around the tavern forlornly. Jemeryl's eyes fixed on the remains of the breakfast littering the table.

There was plenty of time before she was due back at the school; dawn starts were not the rule for sorcerers. However, she would rather avoid the other customers and inn-staff. The creak of floorboards above announced that more people were stirring. The sound sent her hurrying back to the room she had shared with Tevi.

She had intended to pack and be gone as soon as possible, but a pensive lethargy washed over her once she was alone in the room. She wandered about restlessly, half-heartedly picking things up. Her gaze drifted around without enthusiasm. It seemed quiet and very empty now Tevi that had gone.

A pair of tall windows led onto a narrow balcony overlooking the square. Jemeryl abandoned the packing and leant her shoulder against the glass, feeling it cold and hard through her clothing. She stood for a long time, staring across the roofs of Ekranos, while the growing light picked out details of the School of Herbalism, perched high atop the distant cliffs.

*****

Tevi marched through the deserted town. The sharp beat of her feet echoed between the dark houses. At a fountain where two thoroughfares crossed, she paused to splash ice-cold water over her face, watched by a pair of cats, huddled in a baker's doorway. The two sets of unblinking eyes following her curiously as she set off again.

Cold air pinched at the wet skin on her face. Tevi pulled her jacket around her, shivering slightly, and buried her hands in the pockets. The freezing water had swept away the last traces of sleep.

Soon she emerged onto the quay. Dawn was breaking in the first show of pink on the horizon. Tevi walked along the salt-encrusted flagstones. The light was brighter in the open. The sea was a flat grey plain. Already the dark figures of sailors were climbing in the rigging of the moored ships, readying their craft for departure on the high tide.

A small group of her colleagues were assembled by the main customs house. Tevi quietly slipped into their ranks, while attempting to hide a yawn behind a raised hand, however it did not pass unnoticed. A string of predictable comments flew in her direction. Tevi laughed, taking the ribald teasing in good part. The senior officer arrived seconds later to instil order into the boisterous crew. After a few last jibes, the mercenaries settled down to receive their orders for the day.

*****

The sun was just passed its zenith as Jemeryl walked under the arched portal of the library, leaving the warmth outside for the cool interior. The sudden change in temperature made her shiver slightly as she stood in the cavernous main hall and stared around. Bookshelves stretched away on all sides, like the ranks of a sculptured army. The central chamber of the hall rose through all three floors of the building. Jemeryl tipped her head back to view the windows, set high in the domed roof. Diagonal shafts of light streamed past balconies marking the upper levels.

She strolled forward, passing between the rows of books, manuscripts and scrolls. The air still felt chill. Jemeryl imagined the building would gain in popularity during the scorching Ekranos summer, but in late spring the temperature outside was pleasant and the aisles were virtually deserted. The library was silent apart from her footsteps and a soft distant murmur.

The bookshelves themselves were of a jumble of styles and woods; some very plain and functional, some carved with intricate designs. An ornate end panel caught Jemeryl's attention. Through the interweaving branches of a tree, a disorderly tribe of monkeys played with books, squabbling and chasing among the leaves. One large ape, squatting near the bottom, was experimentally chewing pages. Predictably, someone had scratched a name against it. Jemeryl stepped back to view the whole scene, wondering whether the carving was supposed to show the abuse of the tree of knowledge, or if the carpenter's intent had been more whimsical.

The nearby shelves held mainly dog-eared manuscripts, yellowing with age, although the protective spells of the library kept them all intact and the ink unfaded. Jemeryl started to slide one out to read the title, but stopped. She had not come to the library for entertainment.

It was her first free afternoon since the meeting at the Inn of Singing Birds four days before. The temptation had been to go down to Ekranos. However, Tevi was on duty at the docks until the small hours of the morning. Catching her for a snatched meeting during a meal-break was not worth risking the attention it would draw to them. Jemeryl pushed the manuscript back into place and walked on with a determined tread. If she couldn't see Tevi, then she could at least do something useful.

The library catalogue was to be found in one of the wings leading off the main hall. Jemeryl stood at the doorway. There was not much in the small, ground-floor room. A long shelf ran down one wall. On it, a row of leather-bound index-books were neatly stacked side by side; each baring a hand-written label. At the far end was an old desk with a heavy wooden bench in front. Both items of furniture were similarly pitted and stained with age, although their characters were incongruous. The bench was simple square-cut timber; the desk was decorative, with legs carved to look like those of an overweight griffin.

After selecting an index, Jemeryl slid between table and bench, and winced as she cracked her knee against a leg of the desk - its style was definitely ornate rather than practical. She sat, rubbing the bruise with one hand, while flipping open the pages of the book with the other.

To the eyes of the ungifted, each page was simply a list of the items held in the library, along with notes on their contents and location. It was usable by anyone who could read. To a sorcerer, however, it marked the end of an incantation-web, where the essence of the library was mapped into normal space in the form of a sheet of paper covered with writing.

It was an impressive feat of magic. Once done, it required only minimal maintenance. The core spells were very old; the achievement of bygone librarians, but there were some fresh patches, neat and efficient, work done by the new chief librarian. Jemeryl examined Moragar's handiwork thoughtfully, trying to gauge the abilities of her third main suspect.

He's wasted as a herbalist, was her eventual judgement, No wonder he opted to work in the library. Jemeryl smiled wryly at herself. She was sure Moragar would be highly flattered by her commendation.

At the back of the desk, a well-chewed quill lay beside a covered inkwell. Jemeryl pulled a sheet of scrap paper from a pocket and began to note down likely references. While she worked, an older witch wandered in behind her and began flicking through the pages of another index. The faint rustle of paper competed with the scratching of Jemeryl's pen to disturb the heavy silence of the library.

*****

The following four hours did not produce anything of relevance, merely one dead-end after another. The seniors who had removed traces of Lorimal's spell from the library had done a very thorough job. Even her prior knowledge did not help Jemeryl discover anything prohibited. It was virtually impossible even to spot the holes in the library web where information had been withdrawn.

The afternoon was drawing to a close. Jemeryl wandered into the last section she intended to investigate that day, a long thin room resembling a corridor, leading off the second floor balcony. The walls on both sides were lined from top to bottom with rows of hand-written manuscripts. These thin pamphlets, mostly unbound, represented the output of generations of sorcerers pursuing their own arcane interests.

According to the index there was one junior thesis written by Lorimal herself; 'The prevention of cancerous growths and associated tumours'. It was a quite harmless report, predating her illegal work by several years. There was little likelihood it would contain any significant information - it was too obvious a source not to have been thoroughly vetted. Jemeryl's main reason was a desire to touch something Lorimal had owned, a link with the woman. She had deliberately left this until last, the most interesting part of an otherwise tedious search.

The manuscripts were arranged, unhelpfully, by year rather than author or subject. An ungifted scholar might take hours to find a particular report. Fortunately, Jemeryl could follow the web of the index, flowing down the room and along the shelves - to a blank.

She stopped short, staring at the point where the manuscript should be. A second, meticulous search, taking in the shelves above and below, confirmed that the book had not merely been misfiled.

Jemeryl tried to curb her growing excitement; there were legitimate reasons why the manuscript might be missing - after all, books were there to be read. Before doing anything, she had to make sure the report had not simply been borrowed. Jemeryl pressed her hands against the sides of her face, trying to smooth her features into an expression of studious academic contemplation and returned to the central hall.

If someone had stolen Lorimal's manuscript it would be definite evidence for the traitor's presence in Ekranos, whereas, if the manuscript had been taken for lawful purposes, the borrower would have openly declared it. The place to start was the register in which library withdrawals were recorded, kept on a lectern by the main door.

The thick, wood-bound book lay open on a page, half covered in assorted handwriting. Sorcerers were allowed to sign out books themselves, although apprentices needed further authorisation. It took only seconds to check that none of the entries on that first page related to Lorimal's report. Jemeryl began working her way back through the records.

Page after page turned. Jemeryl's finger traced up the column of titles. After a few minutes work Jemeryl paused and eyed the decreasing wad of pages left to search. She was almost two-thirds of the way back through the register. In the left-hand column, the issue dates were nearly a year old and there were no longer any blank spaces in the column for the date-of-return.

Jemeryl flipped to the preceding page. Her attention was totally given to her search, so she was unaware of the brisk approaching footsteps until she was suddenly disturbed by a quiet voice.

"Can I help you?"

Surprise made Jemeryl jump. She was further disconcerted when she turned around to find herself face to face with the chief librarian. "Er... I was after a book, but um... someone seems to have borrowed it. I was trying to find out who."

"Which book was it? Perhaps I can remember the borrower." Moragar said, raising a hand to his forehead as if hoping to push the memory into place.

Seen at close quarters Moragar was both younger and shorter than expected, a squat, energetic man barely into his thirties. He was possessed of a bouncy enthusiasm seemingly incongruous with the solemn atmosphere of the library. He also had a strong Walderim accent that caught Jemeryl's ear, even as she tried to extricate herself from the situation.

"Oh, it's not important. I can probably find another book that will do just as well."

Jemeryl's words were dismissed with an upheld hand as Moragar stepped up to the lectern and looked at the open page. He shook his head vigorously. "Nothing is still outstanding from that far back. Have you looked in the permanent loan record?" Without waiting for a reply Moragar marched to a nearby shelf and pulled down another volume. "What's the name of the author?"

"Please, there's no need to trouble yourself, sir." Jemeryl said, with as much innocence as she could manage. If Moragar was the guilty one, she dare not alert his suspicions by showing an interest in Lorimal.

"It's no bother, and there's no need to call me sir. I'm not old enough to carry it off." Moragar smiled in a friendly fashion and began to leaf through the book. He looked up, waiting expectantly.

Jemeryl had to give a title that was neither in the library or the register. She wished she could remember a book on permanent loan. Neame held several in the hospital, but nothing came to mind. Further evasion could only make things blatantly suspicious. In her most nonchalant tone Jemeryl said, "It was a manuscript by a sorcerer called Lorimal."

"Well that's not in here." Moragar slammed the book shut and rammed it back onto its shelf. The instant anger in his voice left Jemeryl off balance, but the librarian calmed down just as quickly and reached out to pat her arm. "Don't worry, it's not you I'm annoyed at. I just hate it when books go missing, especially originals. But we have a copy if that will suffice. Come on, follow me."

With that, Moragar bounded away down an aisle, leaving Jemeryl trailing along in his wake, slightly dazed by the librarian's lighting shifts in mood. He came to a halt by a tall bookcase at the back of the main hall. As Jemeryl reached his side a thick, green-bound volume removed itself from the top shelf and gently drifted down to land in her hands.

"There's a verbatim transcript in there. I think it's chapter three." Moragar said.

"Thank you." Jemeryl replied, a touch breathlessly.

She stared at the cover, while a seed of suspicion grew. Why was Moragar so familiar with Lorimal's work? Carefully shifting her expression to one of innocence, Jemeryl raised her eyes from the plain leather binding and smiled at Moragar. "I'm very impressed. Do you know the location of every article in the library?"

Moragar began to lead the way back to the main door. "Hardly. But that one is etched on my memory. Orrago borrowed it years ago, although she says she can't remember - poor thing. Druse was furious. He was chief librarian at the time; I was his assistant. He didn't make too much public fuss about it - he didn't want to upset Orrago, she'd only just resigned as principal, but he had me turn the entire school upside down looking for it. Strictly speaking the manuscript isn't lost, I was able to tell by dowsing that it's in the dispensary somewhere, but you could lose half the library in there. I suppose I should delete the book from the catalogue but I keep hoping it will turn up."

By the time Moragar finished speaking, they had returned to the withdrawal register. Jemeryl entered her name and the book's title.

"Thank you, again." she said.

"Oh, don't mention it." Moragar's voice was casual to the point of being dismissive.

Something about the tone jarred with Jemeryl. As she left the building, an instinct prompted her to glance back quickly. Moragar was still standing by the register, staring at her. The expression on his face was not one of idle retrospection. His forehead was knotted in thought and a hand was pressed firmly against his lips. When he saw her looking Moragar immediately spun on his heel and disappeared into the depths of the library. There was something important Moragar was not saying.

*****

Rapid footsteps clattered on the veranda above her head as Jemeryl reached the narrow stairway. Rather than pass on the stairs, she waited at the bottom. Soon feet came into view around the corner, followed by legs and a body that turned out to belong to her study partner. A broad grin flashed across Vine's face.

"Have you been in the library?" Vine asked as she took the last two steps with a hop.

"Yes. But you don't get any points for soothsaying, since I'm holding a book."

Vine smiled. "I wasn't expecting any - merely demonstrating my uncanny powers of observation. Anything exciting happening?"

"In the library?" Jemeryl said with heavy irony. "Do you mean apart from the massed barbarian drummers and the usual wild orgy in the index room?"

Vine's eyes sparkled with amusement. "How inconsiderate, all that banging when you're trying to read - the drumming can be distracting as well."

Matching Vine's cheerful smile, Jemeryl shifted her weight to her right foot and leaned against a wall. She let out a deep sigh. "Actually it's been incredibly tedious. I've spent all afternoon in the library searching for some information that's not there."

"Did you ask Moragar? He's usually helpful."

"We did have a brief meeting."

"What did you think of him?"

"Like you say, he was helpful, and friendly - for a senior. He does seem quite young though."

Vine nodded. "He is. It wasn't expected he would be promoted so soon, but Druse died unexpectedly, three years back - he was the previous librarian. We had a plague in Ekranos, you know. Someone came here for treatment and ended up passing it on to most of the school."

"That's awful. How many people died?" There was no longer any trace of amusement in Jemeryl's voice.

"Druse was the only sorcerer. It was surprising as he'd always been very healthy, while people like Orrago survived. I suppose you can't tell with these things. Moragar was dreadfully upset. He'd been very close to Druse, and I suspect he'd been a good bit closer than was generally realised - if you get my drift."

"According to you, most of the people in the school have been good bit closer at one time or another."

"They have, believe me, they have. It all gets very incestuous." Vine said emphatically. "But I've got to dash, can't stay here all day gossiping - much as I'd like to."

Vine disappeared in the direction of the hospital, leaving Jemeryl to climb the stairs to the veranda. Sitting at her desk, she examined the cover of the book thoughtfully before flipping it open at the right page. She began reading. It was not an area of magic that interested her. It was far too reminiscent of the hospital wards. However, if the original was worth stealing, the copy must contain some clues. Jemeryl's lips pressed into a thin line at the thought - if she could only spot them.

*****

The dim alley was not so much a thoroughfare as the space between two warehouses, too narrow for the sun's rays to reach the bottom. In the enclosed space, the harsh salty tang of the sea was laced with more fragrant scents: leather and spice and grain, seeping through the wooden slats on either side.

The sweet smells teased Tevi's nose as she strode along the passageway. She emerged into bright sunshine at the far end, onto the wide main road leading from the port into the centre of Ekranos. There was a sudden onslaught of noise; laden carts rolled by, their wheels clattering as they jolted along the worn cobbles; drivers shouted at the draft animals; porters, sailors and merchants called to each other. Tevi paused for a second before launching herself into the melee, dodging the carts and the people for the few dozen yards to reach her final destination, the record offices belonging to the port authorities.

Tevi stepped over the threshold. Even before the door was shut, blocking out the clamour of the street, she was aware of an atmosphere of calm, at odds with the chaos outside. Orderly rows of book and papers lined the walls, dampening any sounds. The tiled floor was swept clean. Pens, inks and sealing wax sat neatly in their holders. Nothing was out of place. The desk filling the middle of the room was large enough for a dozen people to work there comfortably, although currently the office was deserted apart from one elderly clerk; a middle-aged woman with a hard face and ink-stained hands - a single priest in this quiet shrine of bureaucracy.

The clerk looked up at Tevi's entrance. "Can I help you?"

"The Ruby Wand is about to depart, bound for Lyremouth. The captain needs these stamped." Tevi held out the papers.

"You'll have to wait. The administrator has been called out. He should be back in a minute or two. Take a seat if you want." The clerk gestured at a stool and turned back to her work.

Tevi chose to ignore the offer and instead paced the length of the room, considering the stacked bookshelves. It was the third time she had been inside the office. She knew the information Jemeryl wanted was there, but how to find it? Klara would not be able to remember every page, even if there were time to hold each one open in turn. Tevi glanced at the grey head bent over the desk. The clerk must know exactly where to look. It wouldn't do to ask her directly, but there might be other ways.

"It must be wonderful - being able to read and write." Tevi said.

"It's a valuable skill." the clerk conceded, without looking up.

"Not needing to rely on memory. You can just write something down, then go back years later and see exactly what it was - the very words. I mean, you can do that, can't you?" Tevi put on her best display of naive innocence. It wasn't hard; the idea of writing left her totally in awe.

The clerk was clearly torn between irritation and amusement. In the end, the latter won out. She lay down her pen, sat back and nodded. "That's the general idea."

"Is it hard to learn?" Tevi asked.

"It takes perseverance and aptitude."

"Then you can write down anything at all?"

"If you can say it, you can write it."

Tevi shaped her lips into a soundless whistle. "Amazing. And you record all the shipments and taxes here?"

"That's our job."

"So if someone wanted to know... oh, for example..." Tevi stared at the ceiling and snapped her fingers, as if picking an item at random. "How much nectar of the bucket orchid had arrived in the last three years. Could you tell them?"

"That would be an easy one. The nectar requires a special licence. Only the sorcerers at the school are allowed to import it." The clerk pointed to a thin book. "It will all be logged in there."

Tevi took down the book reverently and stared at its cover, while trying to disguise her delight. One thin book was a far more feasible task for Klara - but more was to come.

The elderly clerk beckoned Tevi over and took the book. She flipped it open with deft fingers. "There. That's the page we'd want. All you'd have to do is tally up the numbers in this column. Of course, you'd need to be able to add well as read."

The patronising tone might have stung, had Tevi not been feeling more than a little smug herself - anyway, she was sure the clerk was trying to be friendly.

Tevi lifted the open book from the desk, and strolled back down the room while counting the pages. There would be no problem finding the records again. The clerk returned to her work, her face making it plain she felt she had been generous enough with her time.

Tevi did not have long to wait in silence, the book was scarcely on the shelf when there was a rattle of the door-latch and the administrator stepped into the office.

"Sir. The Ruby Wand is about to sail for Lyremouth. The captain's needs these to be stamped." Hastily Tevi scooped the papers from the desk and presented them.

The administrator studied the sheets while walking over to one end of the desk. With a nod, he picked up the candle and wax; the seal itself hung on a chain from his belt. In short order, the papers received their wax imprint and Tevi was out in the sunshine, heading back to the quay.

There was no longer the need to conceal her sense of triumph. A broad smile lit her face. She had been more successful than she had dared hope. All that remained now was to return with Klara one night when the office was empty.

Chapter 3: Trouble from the Past

Heavy thunderclouds hung low in the sky. The sixth dimension was rippling and snapping, energised by the impending storm. Jemeryl stared vacantly through the study window, then held out a hand. Charged ions leapt between her fingertips. The sparks dropped to the desktop in a dazzling snow. It was all quite fun, but made it hard to concentrate on the text.

After several more wasted minutes, the fruitless attempt to read was abandoned. Jemeryl closed the book with a sigh, then sat drumming her fingers on the cover. It was the third time she had gone through Lorimal's thesis and she still could find nothing significant - certainly no clues to why someone had stolen the original. The theory was straightforward, if not completely orthodox. Lorimal had been an unconventional thinker of the first order.

"But nothing like as unconventional as she was after taking the plant empathy potion." Jemeryl spoke aloud to the empty room.

She stretched back in her chair and frowned at the book. Perhaps when the storm broke she would be able to think more clearly. A distant boom rumbled over the cliff-tops; the deep bass note shook the ground under the school. In the following silence came the sound of footsteps outside the study. The door opened and closed with a faint squeak from its hinges, and then there was nothing. Jemeryl twisted in her seat to see Vine holding the door ajar and peering out through the narrow crack.

"You know, I think I'm right. There is something going on between those two." Vine said as she finally pushed the door shut. She plonked herself down in the free chair, and propped her feet on the desk. "I wonder what Beck will say when he finds out - we could be in for fireworks. Though, on the other hand..."

A flash of sheet lightning interrupted Vine's musing. The entire sky lit up from deep within the clouds. The following crack of thunder crashed over the school. Within seconds, the first hard belt of rain splattered against the window. The staccato rhythm combined with the shrieks from a group of apprentices, caught in the open.

Vine rolled her head to one side, and looked at Jemeryl. "You know, this is bad timing from your point of view. If the storm had hit tomorrow morning, you'd miss your session with Tapley."

"I don't mind. I'm actually quite looking forward to it."

"You're what!" Vine said in utter disbelief.

"It's my first chance to work with the ravens. It has to be more fun than the hospital."

"Now there we hear the voice of inexperience. Working with Tapley is as much fun as trapping your fingers in the door and far less exciting."

"It can't be that bad."

"It is, oh, it is. Do you know the word 'boredom'? I can guarantee that by lunchtime you'll have discovered whole new meanings for the word."

"At least I've got the afternoon free. Hopefully, the thought will keep me going."

"Especially if you're going into town to meet your young mercenary." Vine said, with feigned nonchalance.

Jemeryl's smile faded. Their extended perceptions meant a community of sorcerers could not maintain the same standards of privacy as the ungifted. Jemeryl still felt justifiably annoyed; deliberate prying was a breach of etiquette.

"Go on then, ask me how I found out." Vine was clearly delighted with herself.

"I assume you've been indulging in some unofficial scrying." Jemeryl said, coldly.

Vine shook her head vigorously. "One of the kitchen-staff at the Inn of Singing Birds has a sister who works in the fish market. She told our cook's son that a junior sorcerer spent a night at the inn with a mercenary. He told me. I worked out who was free that night and came up with your name."

Jemeryl sighed in resignation. Vine was incorrigible but it was impossible to stay angry with her, especially since no worse intrusion was involved.

"Okay, I confess."

"So what's she like?"

"You mean your sources haven't given a graphic description?"

"Yes - I'd still like some of the details confirmed." The grin on Vine's face faded. "Actually you're wise to play it quiet. Bramell won't approve if he finds out. Not that he can do anything to stop you, but you'll be in for the lecture entitled 'Suitable relationships with the ungifted'. I know; I had it myself last year."

"Someone nice?"

"A relative of one of the patients in the hospital. It wasn't a big thing, but Bramell stuck his nose in. It's alright for him; he's been hitched to Levannue for years. The rest of us appreciate the occasional change of scenery."

"What's Levannue like? I've only seen her from a distance." Jemeryl asked - partly to divert attention from Tevi, and partly looking for information on a suspect.

"She's okay, I suppose." Vine did not sound convinced. "Competent. Takes herself too seriously."

"Most seniors do."

"Except she's turned it into an art-form. Very cold and remote, which can easily rub people up the wrong way." Vine glanced at the closed door and swung her feet down. She leaned forward in a conspiratorial fashion, pitching her voice just loud enough to be heard over the pounding rain. "There are rumours about her as head of psychology. She started treating Orrago's dementia before Orrago retired. When Bramell became principal, it was suggested Levannue had used undue influence, prompting Orrago to endorse him rather than Neame. Not only is she Bramell's partner, but she and Neame hate each other and have done for years."

"Orrago would have guarded herself." Jemeryl protested.

"Orrago was already one-third senile and you have to drop all your defences when you become a psychiatric patient."

There was some validity to the point, but Jemeryl was still sceptical. She might have argued it further had her interest not been caught by something else Vine had said. "Why do Levannue and Neame hate each other? I'd have thought anyone would get on with Neame."

"It's a old argument, going back to when they were students together." Vine said, uneasily.

"What about? Does anyone know?"

"It wasn't really... I guess they were both partly in the wrong..." Vine shrugged her shoulders and ground to a halt.

Jemeryl looked at her study partner with astonishment. There was a topic the school gossip did not want to discuss! It was probably of no relevance to the search for the traitor, but it might give an insight into the two senior sorcerers. Jemeryl was still trying to think of a way of probing tactfully when the door was flung open. One, slightly damp, young witch burst into the room.

"Hey, Vine! Have you heard about what's just happened between Beck and Jona?"

Vine spun to face the excited speaker. "No, what?"

Despite a twinge of irritation at the interruption, Jemeryl could not help grinning. Vine's network of sources was so very efficient - it was a pity she and Tevi couldn't recruit them in the search for the traitor.

*****

Jemeryl crossed the yard immediately inside the school gates. A small globe lit her way. The ground was drying, but numerous puddles still dotted the cobbles. Only ragged bands of cloud remained above the school, scraps of toned grey against the black sky. Stars shone, bright and hard, as if scrubbed clean by the day's storms. A slight breeze, blowing through the archway, stirred the clammy air.

"Excuse me, ma'am. Please, can you help us." A deferential voice hailed her.

Jemeryl faced the speaker in the shadow of the gates. It was a young man, tall and fair-haired. His face showed pale in the light of the globe. Behind him, two others were supporting another, who hung motionless in their grasp.

"What do you want?" Jemeryl asked.

"It's Gewyn. We've just come back across the eastern ocean. We docked this afternoon. Gewyn's picked up something nasty. Please ma'am, we're worried about her."

It did not take a close inspection for Jemeryl to know their fears were justified. The woman was almost unconscious in her friends' arms. Her breath came in strained gasps. Her skin had a blotched yellow sheen that matched her aura. The gates should have been manned with someone to direct visitors. No doubt, the gatekeeper would return shortly, but the sick woman was in no state to, literally, hang around.

"Follow me." Jemeryl said, leading the way back towards the hospital.

This was definitely one for Neame. However, there was no saying where the deputy might be and Jemeryl did not wish to go traipsing through the wards with her sorry retinue. She brought the group to a halt in the lobby of one of the larger buildings and was looking around, wondering what best to do, when a nearby door opened.

To Jemeryl's relief, it was Erlam who appeared. He was a skilled healer with a well-deserved reputation for calmness and competence, although his caring nature was sometimes undermined by a cynical sense of humour. He was not yet thirty but was already being tipped as Neame's successor.

"Erlam. This woman's just arrived. I think Neame should see her." Jemeryl called out.

Erlam grasped the situation immediately and came to join them. "How long as she been like this?"

"She's been complaining about aches for the last two days. It was only last night she really got bad." one of the friends replied.

Erlam nodded. "I'll go and get Neame. I was talking to her only a few minutes ago."

Before he left, Erlam beckoned Jemeryl to one side. "Take her straight to the quarantine quarters, and keep her friends with her. Try not to worry them but don't let any of them leave the hospital, or wander around the wards. The less people they meet the better."

"What's wrong with the woman?"

"I'm fairly sure it's a form of marsh-plague." Erlam's voice kept low.

"It's serious?"

"Of course. Neame needs to be here." Erlam hurried away.

The quarantine section was on the upper floor in an adjacent block. The room was austere, empty apart from two beds, a narrow table and wooden chair. The floors and furniture showed the effects of frequent scrubbing. Jemeryl was grateful that the bars on the one small window were not as conspicuous as they would have been in daylight. There was also a solid lock on the door, more to keep out the unwary than to confine the patient, although that option was available if necessary.

The cell-like room depressed the spirits of the small group even further, if that were possible. After laying the sick woman down, two of her friends slumped despondently on the other bed, holding hands for mutual support. The third friend, the tall man who had first hailed Jemeryl, came to stand by her side.

"Will Gewyn be all right?" His strained tone made it clear he feared the worst

Fortunately, Jemeryl was spared the need to answer by the sound of footsteps on the stairs. She rushed to the door and peered out, hoping to see Neame. However, Erlam was alone when he appeared at the end of the corridor. If he had seemed concerned before, his expression now looked positively grim.

Jemeryl stepped forward to meet him, pulling the door closed behind her. "What's wrong? Couldn't you find Neame?" she asked in a tense whisper.

"I found Neame okay. She'll be here in a few minutes. But I've just met Levannue, who's also looking for her. She's lying in wait downstairs. I think she wants to have part two of an argument they started earlier today." Erlam sounded angry.

"Are you sure it isn't part 400 of an argument they started a couple of decades ago?"

Erlam glanced sideways at Jemeryl. "Of course - you share a study with the Grapevine, don't you?"

"Just something she mentioned in passing."

"What hasn't she mentioned in passing?"

In place of an answer, Jemeryl shrugged her shoulders. An attempt at wit would be misplaced in the circumstances.

The uneasy silence did not last long. Almost immediately, they heard the door below open and close.

"Neame. I want to talk to you." It was Levannue's officious voice.

"Tough. It will have to wait." Neame snapped back.

"It's important."

"You might think so."

Neame's deliberate footsteps began to climb the stairs.

It occurred to Jemeryl that she was about to be caught in the middle of a quarrel between two senior sorcerers. Despite the chance that one of the suspects might, in anger, let their guard slip and drop a clue, Jemeryl would still far rather have been somewhere else. Giving any impression of taking sides would be extremely unwise. At her side, Erlam rolled his eyes despairingly towards the ceiling.

"I'd expected better manners from you." Levannue's voice hissed and her lighter tread began to pursue Neame up.

"You can expect what you like." Neame's tone was aggressively patronising.

"This will only take five minutes..." Levannue's voice was cut off.

"I don't have five minutes to waste swapping insults with you."

Neame reached the top of the stairs. Her lips were compressed in a tight line, and her eyes glared. Jemeryl had never seen the deputy look so unapproachable. Wordlessly Erlam pointed to the room containing the patient. Just as Neame was opening the door, Levannue also rose into view in the stairwell.

The head of psychic studies was obviously furious, although her appearance was as neat and precise as ever. Her short iron-grey hair was moulded to her head like a helmet. The tendency of her face to appear hawk-like was not improved by her temper. Her frame was light, with prominent, finely formed bones. Jemeryl could imagine them rattling with anger.

The sight of two junior sorcerers, watching and listening to the argument, brought Levannue to a halt. She was noted for maintaining the dignity of her status, though not to the same extent as her partner Bramell.

"Neame. What is so important that it can't wait?" Levannue made one last bid for attention.

The deputy acted as if she hadn't heard, and disappeared into the quarantine room without a backward glance. Levannue, after a long moment of hesitation, made as if to follow.

Erlam managed to interpose himself. "Excuse me ma'am. There's a quarantine patient in there, who's just arrived with some friends. Neame will be examining them."

Erlam spoke tactfully, his tone pitched somewhere between explanation and entreaty, but his point was not lost. It was bad enough that junior sorcerer had overheard the quarrel; Levannue would certainly not continue her bickering with an audience of the ungifted.

"Neame should have said." she snapped.

Erlam tried to be diplomatic. "I'm sure if she hadn't been so concerned..."

"And I'm sure she enjoyed the chance to be unpleasant." Levannue interrupted. She turned sharply on her heel and marched off down the stairs, leaving the two younger sorcerers alone in the corridor.

Jemeryl found that she had been holding her breath. She let it out in a rush. To her surprise, she felt some sympathy for Levannue. If was as if Neame had been deliberately provoking her adversary by refusing to provide any explanation. Yet, the behaviour was so untypical of the deputy that Jemeryl was sure there had to be more to it.

"Squabbling like children." Erlam's voice carried surprising vehemence.

"Neame wasn't helpful." Jemeryl said, trying to be fair.

"She never is where Levannue is involved."

Jemeryl paused for a second. "Vine didn't tell me what the origin of the argument was."

"Didn't she?" Erlam sounded a little surprised, but then shrugged. "Anyway, the origin is irrelevant by now, there's too much history in-between. To be honest they aren't usually quite this bad. I think Neame was genuinely worried by the news of marsh-plague."

Jemeryl noticed Erlam also had avoided telling her of the root of the argument. She was going to have to try and pump Vine for some answers. The school gossip would be an easier target than Erlam. She contented herself with asking, "Is the disease really serious enough to upset Neame that much?"

"Yes."

"How far could it spread?"

"It could cause a lot of trouble in Ekranos, but it won't infect the rest of the Protectorate. It is linked to the life cycle of a type of gnat, so it is very seasonal and restricted to hot climates. It also requires pools of still water to breed - unfortunately there are several spots around the estuary of the Dhaliki that suit it perfectly."

"You sound very certain, have you seen it before?" Jemeryl asked.

"I'm pretty sure I have. The dates line up. It was a month or so later in the year when it arrived last time, but there was a very late spring that year."

"Was that three years back?" Jemeryl asked.

"Yes."

"At the time your sorcerer died?"

Erlam flinched and went pale. "Vine told you about that as well?" His tone was icy.

The severity of his reaction caught Jemeryl by surprise; Vine had said nothing to predict it. In confusion she said, "Druse, your librarian. Vine said he died of plague."

Erlam's shoulders sagged. "Oh yes, him."

"Did another sorcerer die at the school as well?"

"No." Erlam spoke brusquely.

"Oh." Jemeryl was confused. "Do you think we'll be all right now?"

"The main risk is to the other patients who are already sick and vulnerable. But Neame was able to develop a full cure - and I'd better see if she wants my help. You can go." It was a curt dismissal. Then Erlam rubbed a hand across his face, as if sweeping a bad memory away. His strained expression softened and he gave Jemeryl a sad but genuine smile. "Go on. You've done your work for today. If you hang around someone will only give you more."

It was good advice. As Jemeryl walked back to her room, she considered what she had learned. Erlam's reaction to the death of Druse was unexpected, as was Neame's behaviour with Levannue. In all likelihood, neither was relevant to Lorimal's chalice, but one fact had registered firmly. From the dates given by Tevi, plague had been raging in Ekranos at exactly the same time as the theft of the chalice. Exactly how it tied in was not clear, but Jemeryl had the sure sense, born of her sorcerer's training, that it was no mere coincidence.

*****

At the rear of the school was an open field. The turf rolled away in a gentle slope, dotted with small white flowers, until abruptly cut short at the cliff's edge. The early morning sun was warming the air, although the ground was still squelchy underfoot from the previous day's rain. The risk of slipping on the mud forced Jemeryl to move cautiously across the grass, placing each footstep. Fortunately, her destination was not far, and she reached the small shack where the ravens were kept without mishap.

The roost was built from rough timber, open along one side, with a low sloping thatch roof. The ground inside was covered in loose straw; mud soaked through in places. Running along the back wall was a rail, set at shoulder height. Jemeryl ducked under the eaves.

Four ravens were perched on the rail, huddled at one end as if engaged in a private debate. They were bigger than she had expected, stocky box-like shapes, easily three times the length of Klara. They fixed her with beady eyes. Not a feather was out of place in their black plumage, yet they gave the impression of being untidy. There was no sign of the keeper. A sound made Jemeryl look down. Two further ravens were on the ground. One of them hopped over the straw towards her, bounding in an ungainly, sideways fashion.

It was hard to tell if the approaching raven was friendly, and unwise to use magic until she knew what other spells controlled the birds. Jemeryl was considering a strategic retreat when she heard the sound of someone coming across the grass, muttering cheerfully. The ravens recognised the voice and replied with throaty chirps that rose to full volume caws as Tapley stepped though the open side of the roost, carrying a large wooden bucket.

The raven-keeper was roughly the same height as Jemeryl, but his build could only be described as scrawny. Deeply lined skin was drawn tight to the outline of his skull. His pale hair was cropped short. He moved with jerky, exaggerated gestures, as if in imitation of the ravens, although his looks were more reminiscent of a newly hatched, featherless chick. He could have been anywhere between forty and seventy in age.

At the sight of his visitor, Tapley came to a standstill and stared at her wordlessly.

"If you please sir, I have been detailed to work with you this morning. My name's Jemeryl." She introduced herself meekly, uncertain of Tapley's status. The keeper was too old to count as a junior, but nobody spoke of him with the respect a senior position usually received.

"You're new here."

Jemeryl was unsure whether it was a statement or a question, so nodded an agreement that would meet either case.

"And you've got to learn about the ravens."

"Yes sir."

Tapley looked confused but then his face lit up with a smile. "Yes. We can start with food - because we loves our din-dins." His last words were spoken in a sibilant baby talk, addressed to the ravens, who responded enthusiastically.

Tapley reached into the bucket, and scattered a fistful of chopped meat on the ground. The ravens descended on the scraps in an explosion of black feathers, squabbling unnecessarily among themselves; there was plenty of food for all. The racket almost drowned out the broken monologue that Tapley launched into, interspersed with affectionate asides to the ravens.

"We get leftovers from the kitchen. The cook's okay, but you have to watch the rest. They'd give the ravens any old muck, carrot tops and stale bread. - and we don't like that - They eat the odd bit of fruit, but meat is what they want. They aren't that finicky, except Sniper who won't eat pork. - you're an old fuss-pot - Sniper likes to sleep on the post by the door. He's Pollo's youngest son. His sister Spludge is the bird on your right. She's seven years old now. Toggle and Dork are her babies - you're big babies now - Whomper is the oldest one, Pollo's father. He keeps the rest in order, but you must make sure that Toggle doesn't take anyone else's share of the food. - who's a greedy guts?"

The keeper rambled away, completely losing Jemeryl within seconds. She looked at the six identical birds and, with a smothered smile, abandoned all attempt to identify them by name. Unaware of Jemeryl's lapse in concentration, Tapley had jumped on to describing at length the eating habits of birds from years gone by. His remarks lurched on from topic to topic in an apparently random sequence.

Once the food was gone, the ravens scattered to various parts of the roost. They directed unblinking stares at the two sorcerers, their small black eyes similar to Klara's, but seeming both more critical and less intelligent. Under their gaze, Jemeryl felt small tremors running through the higher dimensions, carrying the taste of magic. She had the growing impression that the object of the morning's work was for the ravens to learn about her, rather than the other way around. It was just as well, since she was unlikely to gain much meaningful information from Tapley's babbling. However, it would be better to act as if paying attention. She turned back to Tapley and composed her expression into one of polite interest.

*****

Three hours later Jemeryl had reached the end of her endurance and given up any pretence of listening. Tapley seemed not to notice, oblivious of any audience other than the ravens. Vine's warnings had fallen pitifully short of the truth. The past ten minutes Jemeryl spent staring at her feet, scuffing dry straw into a small patch of mud and watching the pattern as the wet soaked through.

In her growing cerebral numbness, Jemeryl's attention to her surroundings was minimal. The trance-like state broke suddenly when she realised Tapley had stopped speaking and was leaving the shed with a raven on his wrist.

In vain, Jemeryl tried to recall his last words. Was she supposed to follow? Bring something? Wait behind? The keeper was out in the sunshine, walking across the grass without a backward glance. Making a quick decision, Jemeryl hurried after him.

By the time she caught up, Tapley had stopped in the open field, well clear of the school buildings and beyond the perimeter of the school's guarding shields. His face was lifted towards the sky and showed no awareness of Jemeryl's presence. Then he asked abruptly, "Have you done this before?"

"Er... maybe not exactly." Jemeryl hedged.

"When you're a raven, flying is so easy."

"Oh, mind-riding a bird?" Jemeryl realised what Tapley meant. "Yes, sir."

"Don't be heavy handed, ravens aren't machines - yes my precious, we don't care what Neame thinks, do we?"

Tapley's conversation degenerated into mumbled half-sentences while he stroked the raven.

"Is there anything in particular you want me to do, sir?" Jemeryl reminded him of her presence,

"Fly with Whomper, if you know how. Fly... up, up over everything, on the wind." His voice was a dreamy sing-song. "I've done that."

"Yes, sir." Jemeryl said, adding mentally, It's obvious you have.

Tapley showed the classic symptoms of having spent far too much time outside his own skull, a victim of the accumulated effects that turned brain to mush. Many sorcerers had fallen into the same trap before. Consequently, the dangers of prolonged mind-riding were so well known it was surprising no one had intervened with Tapley before he had reached his current pitiful state. Surely someone must have seen the risks he was taking?

Tapley thrust the raven in her direction, although with obvious misgivings on his face. Jemeryl braced her arm to take the weight of the bird.

"Whomper will know what he's doing even if you don't" Tapley's tone implied that he thought this a likely proposition. "Now take the raven. Look into his eyes, and..."

"I know how to do it, sir. What's the core binding spell?"

At first, it seemed that Tapley would ignore Jemeryl's question and carry on with his rambling, but then something in the keeper seemed to mesh together. His eyes focused on Jemeryl.

"It's the Three Calling Circles."

"Three Calling Circles?" Jemeryl was surprised. It was not one of the spells she had expected.

Tapley had backed away and was watching, waiting for her to begin. Jemeryl did not have the time to think the implications through. She did not want him to think she needed instructions after all.

Jemeryl lifted the raven, so its shrewd eyes bored into hers. Latching onto the core spell, she started interlinking the circles of calling through the higher dimensions. All unnecessary thoughts were swept away, leaving awareness only of herself and the raven. Jemeryl sunk deeper into the lacework of thoughts. As always, childhood memories of playing cat's cradle wove themselves into her spell as she caught the links that spun through their joint minds. There was a moment of pulling the lines taut and then, with the gentlest of shifts, she made the transition.

The sky was wide and tempting; Jemeryl launched herself towards it. The buildings of the school fell away, comically unfamiliar from the new viewpoint. Earth and sky hung around her. The wind was moulded by the beat of her wings. As a human, air is noticed only in its absence, as a bird it is a tool to be used. Jemeryl climbed through the sky. The body was strange, like ill-fitting clothing, but it was wonderful in its power. She played with the air currents, looping and dancing on the wind. The tedium of the morning was forgotten in the joy of flight.

"Enough. You can come back now." Tapley's faint cry drifted up on the wind.

Jemeryl circled on outstretched wings, looking down at the two small figures on the grass below, earthbound. One of them was herself, strange and unlikely though it seemed. Again, she heard the call to return and, tempting though it was to disobey, she knew her time was up. A last sweep through the heavens, feeling the wind rippling over feathers and then she glided back down, breaking through the confusion of sensation as an arm under her claws matched the claws clasping her arm. The links snapped and she was back, standing on the ground with a raven on her wrist.

Tapley trotted to her side and took the raven back. A huge beam spread across his face. "You love the ravens."

"I enjoy the work." Jemeryl said, a little more cautiously.

"No. You need to love the ravens to work with them. Aris loved the ravens - and you loved her too, we miss her, don't we - Neame doesn't like the ravens - no she doesn't, nasty woman - She wanted to get rid of the ravens, replace them with her pretend bird. Real ravens are best. Neame thought she could make a better one, except she couldn't. She needed other people to help her, and it didn't work. She hoped a third rate witch could use it - she'd like that wouldn't she - A good job Bramell stopped her. She's no sorcerer."

Jemeryl's attention was immediately hooked by what Tapley was saying - or by what she thought he was saying. "A pretend bird? You mean a sort of golem?"

"Nasty thing." Tapley spat.

"What happened to this bird?"

"Whomper's here."

Jemeryl sighed. Tapley was lost again. "Neame's pretend bird, what happened to it?"

"You can't have a pretend bird, it won't work; I told you that." Tapley scowled. "You need to love the ravens, like Aris did - even though she lost your sister, she didn't mean it. You know she didn't mean it."

It was hopeless. Was the pretend bird an artificial golem, or just something that wasn't a raven? The only thing Jemeryl could be certain of was Tapley's outrage, directed mainly at Neame. Who was Aris, anyway? It was a name Jemeryl had not heard before. She was certain the person was no longer at the school.

"What happened to Aris? Where is she now?"

"Poor Aris." Tapley mumbled.

"Why poor?"

"Aris died."

Jemeryl's sorcerer senses prickled, making her ask, "When?"

"At the time of the plague, and we didn't know. We lost Whomper's sister as well." Tapley's face twisted in grief, though it was hard to say whether it was due more to the death of the raven or the sorcerer.

Jemeryl frowned in confusion. Vine had said only Druse died of the plague, but Erlam's reaction the night before had certainly implied otherwise, and now Tapley had given a name.

Jemeryl looked at the raven-keeper thoughtfully. "She caught the plague?"

"Ravens don't get plague."

Before Jemeryl could rephrase her question, the refectory bell rang out. Tapley nodded as he heard it. "We're finished for this morning. You can go. It's lunchtime."

Jemeryl was about to leave when her memory prompted her. "Why do you use the Three Calling Circles, surely something like Treascal's Binding would be better?"

"Treascal's Binding?" Tapley nodded. "It's a good spell, but the sixth dimension... some people..." A sweep of his arm took in the school. "can't manage it. We used to use the Long Ties of Anima, but Orrago forbade it."

"I'm not surprised." It was an extremely risky binding spell, normally a last resort.

"Orrago said we couldn't after... after what happened to me. I was flying and... the tie broke." Tapley turned watery eyes on Jemeryl. "I've not been very well since."

"No sir, I guess you haven't."

Jemeryl wanted more details about Aris, the ravens and Neame's artificial bird, but Tapley had started to walk back to the roost, muttering to himself. Anyway, there were other, better sources of information - such as Vine. Jemeryl headed for the refectory, her mind whirling as she considered the implications of the binding spell. It was something she would have to discuss with Tevi.

*****

Shouts and laughter rang out in the warm spring evening. It was just after sunset. To the west, the last touches of pink and purple smudged the underside of wispy clouds. The square outside the Inn of Singing Birds was busy. The activity centred on the tables set in front of several taverns, where lanterns marked the traditional boundaries to what the innkeepers considered their own territory.

The clientele outside the Inn of Singing Birds were noticeably older and quieter than the others, although there was little to chose in the flow of wine and beer. Tevi and Jemeryl sat well towards the back, obscured in shadow beneath the scraggly row of trees lining the edge of the square. None of the milling groups of people paid them any attention or showed the inclination to sit at their table, but Tevi had noticed there was always a discrete waiter, circulating like a guard-dog, ready to head off the unwary. She found it mildly irritating, but at least it guaranteed them the privacy to discuss what they had learned so far.

Jemeryl was musing aloud. "I just wasn't expecting Three Calling Circles. It's got me rethinking my assumptions about the ravens. It's such a limiting spell - but, from what I think Tapley said, some of the sorcerers have trouble with the sixth dimension."

Tevi frowned. "How does that affect it?"

"For mind-riding you bond with the aura on the fifth dimension, via the tensors of the sixth. The various binding spells use different methods to achieve this. By definition, a sorcerer can work in all three paranormal dimensions, but usually you're better in one than the others. The sorcerers at the school are primarily herbalists - so you'd expect them to the strongest in the fifth. The Three Calling Circles is notable for being very undemanding on sixth dimensional ability. The Long Ties of Anima is another easy spell in the sixth, except it's very risky. Tapley implied they used to use it, but Orrago made them stop after he had an accident - which explains the state he's in."

Tevi held up her hands. "I'll take your word on it. What does it mean to our hunt for the traitor?"

"I'd assumed the culprit had taken a raven off for a week or two, saying they were going for samples. The raven was dispatched to Storenseg, and the culprit collected the plants in a conventional manner while the raven was away. A spell like Treascal's Binding would allow this, however the Three Calling Circles is a close binding spell. You have to physically touch the bird to make the initial bond, and all the time you're linked to it you're in a trance - you can't eat or drink or even sleep properly."

Tevi's face cleared; at last she thought she could see where Jemeryl was going. "I think I understand. You mean a sorcerer can only link to the raven for..." She paused, thinking. "two days at most. Which limits how far you can send it."

"Exactly. And, having been a raven I know they aren't..."

Tevi's frown returned. "When were you a raven?"

"This morning."

"You..." Tevi banged the side of her head with her open palm. "Okay... forget the rest." She sighed and gave up the attempt to understand. "What would be the limit to send a raven to collect something?"

Jemeryl pursed her lips thoughtfully. "400 miles, maybe 500 if you were very lucky with the winds."

"So a sorcerer on the mainland could have got the chalice?"

"Only if they were in southern Walderim."

"Could someone have taken a raven and changed the spell to treacle binding?"

Jemeryl laughed. "It's Treascal's Binding and they couldn't change the spell without killing the raven."

Klara joined in. "Which would have a negative impact on its flying ability - speaking as the expert on this."

"You're supposed to be quiet." Tevi hissed.

"I'm incorrigible."

Tevi tapped the magpie's beak as an affectionate rebuke. She was not too concerned. The waiter made sure there was no one within earshot. Moreover, with a sorcerer present, no one would be surprised even if the table started talking. Her attention returned to Jemeryl.

"So what you're saying is that either the traitor was in Walderim, or it wasn't one of the school ravens?"

"That sums it up."

Tevi chewed her lip. "People who saw the bird take the chalice described it as a huge black crow."

"That sounds like a raven." Jemeryl confirmed.

"Could the culprit have got another raven from somewhere else?"

"It's not that easy. Binding spells take a long time to prepare, at least a couple of months, and the work is rather conspicuous. It would certainly be noticed if someone tried casting one on the school grounds, so all the work of binding the bird would have to be done after leaving Ekranos. Whichever way you look at it, whoever it was had to be off on a very lengthy trip when they took the chalice. It certainly ought to help narrow down the suspects."

While she considered the idea, Tevi leaned back and stared up at the trees. A breeze rustled overhead, twisting the leaves to produce a flickering effect as the pale undersides caught the light from the lamps.

"How about this artificial bird you said Tapley was so upset about? Could that have been used instead, without the traitor needing to leave Ekranos?"

"It might be a possibility. I've got to find out more about it - how much work was done on it and what its capabilities were."

"It would point to Neame, since she initiated the thing."

"Yes." Jemeryl drummed her fingers on the table. "Assuming I understood Tapley correctly."

"You're not happy with the idea of Neame as the guilty one, are you?"

"No."

"Because you think she's a kind, loveable person?"

"I respect her."

"Both Levannue and Tapley dislike her. Perhaps they're right. Perhaps there's a less than pleasant side to Neame that she keeps hidden from most."

"Perhaps." Jemeryl sighed. "There are too many questions and loose ends. Things don't tie up. And there's something odd going on at the school. Both Moragar and Erlam were keeping secrets. Even Vine has clammed up once or twice - to call that out of character is like saying the sea is a bit damp on occasion."

The analogy made Tevi laugh. She took a deep draft of her beer. Not far away, the innkeeper was passing on her rounds. The stout elderly woman smiled deferentially in their direction. Tevi acknowledged the smile and then put her tankard down as another idea occurred to her.

"Could one of the seniors have persuaded a younger sorcerer to get the chalice?" Magic might be outside her understanding, but the abuse of power wasn't.

"Not impossible, but it would mean letting someone else in on the crime. You know the saying - two can keep a secret if one of them is dead. It's hard enough to keep anything private from other sorcerers, even without Vine's services. I'd have thought involving another person would be an unacceptable risk."

"Would they have to let them in on the secret? I know you weren't impressed by Vine's gossip about Levannue abusing her post of responsibility. But couldn't she have made a junior sorcerer get the chalice for her, and then forget what they'd done?"

Jemeryl shook her head. "Not a sorcerer. She'd have no trouble enslaving the ungifted or a low grade witch - but someone like that wouldn't be able to control the ravens."

"You're sure of it?"

"Yes. Snaring someone's mind is like tying their hands using cotton thread." Jemeryl held her wrists together to illustrate. "It's easy if the person obligingly holds their hands like this for five minutes so you can make several dozen loops, but if they see what you're doing and move..." She pulled her hands apart. "Equally, to ensorcel someone who can't see what you're doing is straightforward. But anyone who is aware of the fifth dimension can only be taken over with their consent. You have to do the magical equivalent of standing very still."

Tevi's forehead furrowed as an unrelated problem occurred to her. "If it's so hard to overpower a sorcerer... supposing we find our traitor; how do we take them prisoner and get them back to Lyremouth?"

"We use an enslaving ward. Levannue probably has one lying about we could borrow. They exploit the elemental powers of the sixth dimension to bind someone's mind - and before you ask, I'm quite sure nobody at the school is trapped by one. The person would have to wear the device all the time and they tend to be quite bulky. On top of that, enslaving wards are very crude in their effect. The victim would be expressionless, sluggish and probably unable to speak."

"I suppose that would be noticed."

"It wouldn't take Vine to spot it. Mind you, I could probably muster a fair amount of support in the school for having one snapped on her."

"Supposing Levannue doesn't have one of these wards?"

"We could revert to a simple iron collar. Iron is funny stuff; it distorts magical forces even more than water. For a sorcerer, wearing an iron collar is like having fireworks continuously going off in your face. Iralin had me wear one briefly as a demonstration." Jemeryl shuddered at the memory. "The combined forces of the school would be enough to restrain the culprit while the collar was put on. After that, I think we can leave it to you to take care of them."

"That simple?" Tevi said in surprise.

"Providing we don't take too long getting back to Lyremouth."

"How long before the collar stops working?"

"It doesn't exactly stop, but I've been told that, given time, you can get used to the effects. There's a story of a group of bandits who managed to take a sorcerer prisoner using one, and treated him rather badly. After a year, he was able to overcome the iron sufficiently to teleport a metal file into his hand one night."

"That must have surprised the bandits the next day."

"Oh, I don't think many of them even got to see dawn."

"If iron is so distracting, why do you have iron caps on the end of your staff?"

"The caps reflect energy waves, forming a resonating cavity you can use as an amplifier. The wooden staff in the middle is irrelevant. It's simply there to hold the iron reflectors a precise distance apart. We use oak since it has the right thermal coefficients."

Tevi frowned. What was a thermal coefficient? Before she could ask, noise from the square caught her attention. Several young people were splashing water from a drinking trough at each other and shrieks rang out as someone got drenched. The horseplay was comprehensibly human. Magic left Tevi uneasy - there was so much she couldn't understand. She didn't want her lover's abilities to be a barrier between them. I just need to learn to accept it. she told herself. As long as it makes sense to Jemeryl I won't worry.

Tevi focused on a part of Jemeryl's report that she could grasp the significance of. "You think Lorimal's manuscript was stolen from the library?"

"It's a bit much of a coincidence otherwise."

"Does this mean we can be totally sure the person who took the chalice is in Ekranos?"

"I've been certain from the start - call it a sorcerer's hunch." Jemeryl gave a lopsided grin. "Not that it means much. Like most people's hunches they work better with hindsight."

"I've managed to find out where the customs records for the nectar is. If we know the traitor is here, do you still want me to have Klara read it?"

Jemeryl nodded. "If you can. There may be some useful information - not the least the dates. I'd like to know if the traitor is still working on the spell..."

"Or if they've completed the work and are ready to wage war on the Protectorate, starting tomorrow." Tevi suggested, not entirely joking.

"There's a cheering thought."

"It's no problem for me to look at the records. It might be a bit harder to explain why I want Klara with me."

"Tell them you're trying to broaden my education." The magpie's voice was a soft croak.

Tevi looked at Jemeryl in exasperation. "It's a good job she doesn't speak down on the dockside. She already attracts more attention than I like."

The night air was growing cooler. Jemeryl slid along the bench and put her arm around Tevi. "I like to think she's keeping an eye on you. Making sure you don't get into trouble."

"You're running more risks than me." As she spoke, Tevi felt Jemeryl shiver. "Are you cold?"

"No, it was..." Jemeryl's word trailed away.

"Was what?"

"Oh... nothing."

Tevi looked at the woman beside her. "It wasn't a premonition or anything like that?"

"No. Don't be silly." Jemeryl squeezed Tevi's hand, but her voice lacked reassurance.

Tevi did not push the issue, but neither could she dismiss it from her mind. Her eyes fixed, over the rooftops, on the cliff-top school. The sooner the traitor was identified and captured the better.

Chapter 4: Unplanned Conversations

The pale liquid began to simmer. A fine ring of bubbles frothed at the edge of the pot. They hissed when Jemeryl dislodged them with an oversized wooden spatula, before pushing the pot to a cooler spot at the rear of the stove. At one side, Vine knelt to open the fire-hatch. Her face looked demonic in the red light, scowling at the heat as she fed more split logs into the fire. Vine shut the door with a clang and stood up.

Neame bustled over from the other side of the room. "How's everything going?" She carried on without waiting for an answer. "I've got to go upstairs. I won't be long. I've left a list of the other compounds we need. If you could get them ready? And be careful, some are very dangerous if mishandled."

Neame headed through the doorway. Her footsteps clipped along the corridor outside and up the stairs at the end.

"Bet she just wants a break from the heat." Vine said once the sound had faded.

Jemeryl cast a baleful glare at the massive cast-iron stove - both the source of the heat and the magic-disrupting epicentre that prevented them doing anything to alleviate it. The room was like a bake-house. Being in the cellar under the dispensary did not help the stifling temperature. There was a low vaulted ceiling, two central support pillars, and no windows. Oil lamps provided lighting. It was a claustrophobic space - generally referred to as Neame's Kitchen, the place where potions for the hospital were prepared.

Neame was in charge of this work, so the cellar was the only part of the dispensary where order prevailed. The bottles and boxes were arranged on shelves. Nothing apart from items in use was on the wooden bench that filled one wall of the room. The stove was built into an open chimney on the wall opposite. Apart from this, the only furniture in the room was a small round table and two stools.

Vine picked up Neame's list and went to stand as far as possible from the stove - not that it did much good. The heat was inescapable. Jemeryl could feel sweat trickling through her hair as she peered over Vine's shoulder at the slate.

"It's pretty straightforward. Won't take long." Vine nodded as she spoke.

"If you say so." Jemeryl said with less confidence. Many of the names on the list were unfamiliar to her.

She leaned back against the bench and watched as Vine worked her way along the rows of shelves, picking out an assortment of jars. After a short while Jemeryl asked, "Do you remember telling me Druse was the only sorcerer killed by the plague?"

"Yes."

"Tapley mentioned someone called Aris. Was it me getting confused by the rambling or did she die at the same time?"

"She died, but it wasn't the plague." Vine explained she deposited the jars on the bench. "Here, hand me that flask behind you."

Jemeryl did as asked. She waited until Vine had finished measuring an oily green fluid into the container before continuing with her questions. "So what did she die of?"

"Suicide."

"She killed herself?"

"That's what suicide usually means." Vine said, unperturbed. "She was unstable - putting it mildly. I suppose it shouldn't have been totally unexpected, but it was hard on Erlam. I don't think he's over it even now. They were lovers, you see."

"Oh, that would explain..." Jemeryl paused, in thought.

"What?"

"Nothing much. I was talking to Erlam once and he got a bit prickly. It would make sense if he thought you'd been gossiping about him and Aris."

"Would I do a thing like that?" Vine's tone was all hurt innocence.

"Yes." Jemeryl replied, deadpan.

"Hmmph. Well, you're not here to be ornamental. If you took those bottles over to the stove it would help." Vine pointedly indicated the items in question.

"How close in time did the two deaths take place?" Jemeryl asked, while transferring the bottles to a tray.

"Pretty much the same day, as far as we could tell."

"Were they linked in any way?"

"Must have been a coincidence; they happened over 2000 miles apart. Druse was here in the school and Aris was out travelling in Walderim."

"Walderim!" Jemeryl could not help her voice revealing her surprise.

"It's the strip of land between the Aldrack Mountains and the Western Ocean."

"I know where it is." Carelessly, Jemeryl dumped the tray on the small table by the stove and turned back to Vine, almost tripping over one of the small stools that got in her way. "Whereabouts in Walderim?"

Even as the words left her mouth, Jemeryl knew she was sounding far too eager. Vine's curiosity was easy to attract, and very, very hard to evade. Already a familiar, calculating expression was forming on the gossip's face. Before either of them could ask more questions, they were interrupted by the sound of Neame's returning footsteps on the stairs. In a flurry of activity, the remaining few items were assembled. By the time Neame opened the door, Vine was wiping the bench clean with a wet rag and Jemeryl was at the stove, wooden spatula in hand.

"How's the list going?" Neame asked.

"Just finished, ma'am" Vine gave a last sweep with the rag and went to join Jemeryl at the stove.

Jemeryl glanced up. She could tell the school gossip was puzzling over her interest in Walderim. Vine's lips were slightly open. Her eyes were fixed on the middle distance. Conjecture and speculation were clearly dominating Vine's thoughts - she certainly was not paying attention to where she was walking.

Jemeryl realised the danger a split second too late to give a warning. Vine's knee cracked hard against the stool that had been left in the middle of the floor and her foot caught in the rungs. She staggered sideways, throwing out her hand for support. Her palm landed flat on the tray Jemeryl had left precariously overhanging the edge of the table. The tray flipped up, catapulting its contents into the air, while Vine's balance was completely lost. The table tripped over and Vine stumbled forward, straight towards the hot stove.

There was no time to think. If Vine landed on the stove, she would be badly burnt. The mass of iron was a deep vortex in the paranormal planes. Yet somehow, responding by reflex and making up with force for what the spell lacked in subtlety, Jemeryl summoned the powers of the sixth dimension. Vine was sent flying back across the room and crashing into the bench opposite. She would be bruised, but not seriously injured.

Sharp cracks of breaking glass resounded in the confined space as bottles that had been on the tray hit on the ground. One smashed on the stovetop; the splattered contents hissed furiously over the hotplate and ran down the sides, giving off wispy yellow smoke.

Jemeryl was surrounded by debris. The floor was covered in mingling liquids, powder and shards of glass. Cleaning up would not be fun.

"Jemeryl, move!" Neame shouted.

The order called Jemeryl's attention away from the mess. Neame was standing in the doorway at the back of the room and Vine was scrambling painfully to her feet. Suddenly Jemeryl became aware of the creeping smoke from the stove. What was it that was burning? Without thinking, her hand reached for a cloth to wipe it up, before the emphasis of Neame's words struck her.

She began to take a half step backwards, but too late. The pungent smell of the fumes from the stove had reached her. Acid vapour rasped Jemeryl's throat. A muscle inside her chest contracted convulsively, while the floor seamed to lurch under her feet. She gasped, breathing in more of the poisoned air.

"JEMERYL!"

Grey creeping darkness started to flow before Jemeryl's eyes. Her left knee buckled as the world faded away. Jemeryl knew she was about to pass out. She was drowning in the yellow air. Then, a hand grabbed her by the shoulder and yanked her back from the stove. Fingers twisted in her clothing to get a good grip.

Pulled stumbling backwards, Jemeryl was dragged through the doorway and into the corridor beyond. In a cold detached part of her mind, Jemeryl watched Vine slam the door shut and realised it was Neame who had hauled her from the room. Together, Vine and Neame half-carried her up the stairway. In the fresh air of the ground floor lobby, Jemeryl's head started to clear, but a feeling of nausea grew. Uncontrollable shaking overwhelmed her body.

Neame's face wavered very close. Jemeryl was unable to focus on her.

"I guess you'll survive." There was a forced lightness in Neame's voice that did not hide her relief. "You can sit in Orrago's private study. I'm sure she won't mind you in there for a while, under the circumstances."

Jemeryl felt herself moved about and eventually lowered into a soft chair. Despite the careful treatment, her stomach heaved in a spasm. She was glad to see a bucket placed near at hand. She stared miserably at her knees trying to ignore everything else. There was the sound of talking, then the door closed and Vine came to kneel by her side.

"Neame's gone to sort out the mess downstairs. I'm going to look after you. Don't worry; you're going to be fine. I've got instructions." She squeezed Jemeryl's shoulder. "And I must say you've gone a really interesting shade of green."

Jemeryl closed her eyes, trying to relax and control the tremors that were shaking her. An inner cold was gnawing into her bones. After a while, sitting very still, the convulsive shuddering subsided. She raised her head carefully to look about.

She was sitting in a small, cosy study. A lifetime's accumulation of trinkets and personal effects swamped any academic aspect of the room. A few feet away, dozing in a second cushioned chair was Orrago, with Frog perched like a carved ornament on the armrest. Jemeryl shivered and shifted back in her seat. Even that slight movement increased her feeling of nausea. She pressed the back of her hand against her mouth.

Vine returned with three steaming mugs. "Thought I'd have one myself. I even made a cup for Orrago - if she wakes up. Yours has got extra honey and lime in, plus a few more bits." She passed a mug to Jemeryl, making sure it was held firmly before letting go.

"Thanks." Jemeryl was surprised to hear how raw her voice sounded. She wrapped her hands around the cup, sucking the warmth into her fingers, and took a cautious sip of the tea.

Grinning, Vine plonked herself down on a covered footstool. "You know, I was just as keen as you to get away from the heat downstairs, but I think your escape plan was a little over-dramatic."

"I admit it didn't work out quite the way I intended." Jemeryl's voice was a croak.

Orrago coughed and opened her eyes. "Where's my hat? Has anyone seen my hat? It was here just now. I need my hat, I've got to go to the library to talk to... got to see..." Orrago's voice trailed away in confusion.

Vine went to her side. "It's all right ma'am. You don't need to bother. I've made you some tea."

"Oh, that is good of you, Kally." The ancient sorcerer calmed immediately at the sight of the mug. "It's nice of you and Iralin to visit me."

"It's Vine and Jemeryl, ma'am."

"Where? Who are they?"

"They're us ma'am, Vine and Jemeryl. We had a small accident downstairs and Neame as sent us here to recover." Vine explained slowly.

"Oh, young Neame... yes." Orrago sipped the tea noisily. Becoming more animated she leaned forwards. "You must ask Druse to come see me this afternoon. I have to talk to him about some books he's repairing. He's not supposed to touch..." Orrago broke off and pointed at a shadow on the wall. "Oh, there's my hat. What's happened to the brim?"

The effect of the sweet tea was rapidly calming Jemeryl's nausea and thawing her inner chill. She exchanged a sad smile with Vine - Orrago's grasp of reality was more tenuous than usual.

For a while, the elderly sorcerer rambled on. She then lent over and tapped Vine's arm. "Kally, can you go and find Druse for me?"

"Ma'am, don't you remember, Druse is dead." Vine said softly.

"Don't be silly, of course he's not dead. I talked to him only this morning." A puzzled frown grew on Orrago's face, undermining the conviction of her words. Frog gave a forlorn croak. Abruptly, Orrago put down her half-empty mug and stood up. She scooped Frog from the armrest and dropped him in a deep pocket on her robe. "I've got to go now."

It was anyone's guess what had brought Orrago's jumbled wits to that conclusion, but at the very second she pulled the door open Levannue appeared outside. The door opening in her face without warning clearly startled Levannue. She stared through the doorway, her expression of surprise changing to one of censure as she saw the other two occupants of the room.

"You know you're not supposed to be in here? Did anyone give you permission?" Levannue's voice was sharp as she stepped passed Orrago, into the room.

"Neame sent us here, ma'am." Vine replied.

"Why?"

"I'm keeping an eye on Jemeryl. There was an accident in the cellar and Jemeryl inhaled something nasty."

"Was someone being careless? What happened?"

"I think ma'am, it might be better if you were to ask Neame for the details."

"I'm asking you."

There was an awkward pause before Vine said, in carefully neutral tones, "Neame was in charge. She was also in the room at the time. She's the one to ask."

The senior sorcerer locked eyes with Vine, blatantly trying to intimidate her. There was a long moment of silence.

"As long as the situation is under control." Levannue's tone was too sharp to count as backing down, but she was apparently ready to let the issue drop. Her manner softened noticeably as her attention shifted away from the two juniors. She linked her arm with Orrago, gently steering her out of the room. "Would you like to come to my study now?"

As the door closed behind them, Vine let her breath out in a rush. "And there you have a object lesson in school politics. Levannue will stick her nose into things that don't concern her, and if you're not careful how you deal with it, you can end up on the wrong side of Neame."

"I know. I nearly got caught in the middle when the two of them had a squabble before." Jemeryl said sympathetically.

"When was that?" Vine asked at once.

"In the hospital, a few days ago."

"Was that when the woman with plague was brought in?"

"You heard about it?"

"Of course."

Jemeryl's laughter at the indignation in Vine's voice turned to coughing. The tea had relieved her nausea and chill, but her throat felt as if she had been gargling with broken glass.

Vine stood anxiously by Jemeryl's shoulder until the coughing subsided. "You're sounding like a candidate for the hospital yourself."

"If the plague gets out of hand again we could all end up there." Jemeryl said between gasps.

"It won't do that. We know how to deal with it now." Vine said confidently. She dropped into Orrago's vacated chair. "Just as well - I don't think I could face going through it again."

"It must have been chaos here."

"It was. I was one of the first to get sick. By the time I was better, half the school was confined to bed. I was left to nurse three whole wards on my own, though there were fewer left to nurse each day. Weaker patients didn't stand a chance. Moragar was the most senior sorcerer left standing. He was virtually running the place single-handed. Part of the reason they made him head librarian was that he did such a good job. He went to pieces when Druse died, but by then Levannue had recovered and taken over." Vine shifted back in her chair and took on a deliberately casual manner - always a sign that she was on the hunt of gossip. "We had just about settled down when the news came about Aris killing herself."

Despite the interruption of the accident, Jemeryl had already worked out how to deal with Vine's curiosity.

"It happened out in Walderim, you said." She did her best to act like someone trying to be nonchalant, and failing.

"Yes."

Jemeryl left a significant pause and then asked, "I don't suppose it was near Oshen, in the north?"

"No." Vine shook her head. "It was just outside Scathberg."

"Oh." Jemeryl let her voice sound forlorn.

"You've been there?" Vine asked, as if merely making conversation.

"No."

"You know someone there?"

"Er... not quite..." Jemeryl let her voice drop. "An ex-lover of mine from the Coven... he came from Oshen; he used to talk about the town. We're not together anymore but..."

"You're still keen on him?"

Jemeryl shrugged by way of answer. She pressed her lips together tightly.

"What's he like?"

Jemeryl averted her face for the space of a dozen heartbeats, and then whispered. "I'd rather not talk about him."

"Oh... right... Still feeling sore?"

Jemeryl gave another miserable shrug. Strictly speaking, she hadn't lied, however it was a safe bet that the inferences drawn by Vine would be a complete fiction. Failed love affairs were Vine's favourite topic for gossip. It was almost possible to see the cogs going around in her head as she added up two and two. By now Vine was probably past the conjecture that the affair with the mercenary was started on the rebound and on to more elaborate hypotheses, safely diverted from the truth - just as long as Jemeryl said nothing else to make her doubt the story.

Unfortunately, Jemeryl desperately wanted more answers. Who was with Aris? Exactly where were they? And who came back with what? To ask would only set Vine off on the hunt again. It was frustrating. Vine was certainly the best source of information in the school, but Jemeryl dare not let rumours spread that she had an inexplicable interest in the events in Walderim three years ago.

They were draining the last of their tea when the door opened and Neame returned. Vine stood up. Jemeryl made to do likewise but her knees gave way. She fell back, her legs like rubber.

Neame put a restraining hand on her shoulder. "Stay still. I was going to ask how you were feeling, but I guess I don't need to."

"I'll be all right in a minute." Jemeryl gasped, surprised by the extent of her weakness.

"It'll take a bit longer than a minute. But your aura's recovering nicely. I think you should go to your room and lie down. Vine will get some porters and a stretcher." Neame said authoritatively, allowing no argument.

Jemeryl felt foolishly conspicuous being carried to the juniors sorcerers' quarters, with Vine in attendance, but it was a relief to be laid out on her own bed with the shutters closed.

Once the porters had gone, Jemeryl gave an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry about the accident, I guess it was my fault. I should have been more careful how I put the tray down."

"I should have been looking were I was going." Vine replied. "Don't worry, Neame wasn't angry. Which is just as well. It takes a vast amount of provocation to get in Neame's bad-books but, if ever you do, you're stuck there for life."

Vine shut the door and left Jemeryl alone to ponder that final thought.

*****

Tevi's slow footsteps made a hollow sound on the flagstones. There was no point in rushing on her solitary patrol of the dockside. Dusk was gathering. The horizon was lost in misty purple shroud. Across the bay, a lone fishing craft was returning with its catch. Seagulls gathered on the roofs of warehouses, while high above them the first faint stars dotted the darkening sky.

On reaching the end of the harbour, Tevi balanced on the edge of the quay and looked down. It was low tide. Water slopped against the pockmarked stones of the harbour wall, twenty feet below. Further along the shoreline, away from the deepwater harbour, banks of sand and shingle broke the surface of the waves, hissing as the surf sucked over them.

Tevi turned and strolled back along the quay, passing the dark hulks of moored ships lining the waterfront. There was little for her to do. All the ships currently docked had been checked and, with low tide, nothing could move for a couple of hours. The customs officers on duty were responsible solely for ensuring nothing was smuggled aboard and limiting the havoc caused by gangs of drunken sailors rejoining their boats after sampling the pleasures of the town.

One such group was assembling on the foredeck of the nearest ship. The sailors talked and laughed among themselves. They were currently well-behaved; the night had not yet really started. Most were reasonably sober, although a second outing to Ekranos would undoubtedly change that.

As Tevi passed by, one of the sailors leant over the railing. "Hey. Officer. I've got some really unusual merchandise here you might like to inspect personally." Grasping the rigging, the sailor leapt onto the rail and posed provocatively, the innuendo clear.

Tevi looked up at the sailor and smiled; she was already well accustomed to the good-natured verbal sparring of the docks. "If it's what I think, then it's readily available in town and doesn't require customs inspection. Unless of course, it's malfunctioning and might create a public nuisance."

"Would you like to come below decks and help me test it out?"

"You don't need me. I'm sure you've had plenty of practise testing it out on your own."

Unperturbed at coming second in the verbal duel, the sailor joined in the general laughter, before jumping back onto the deck to join her companions.

Tevi's patrol took her further along the harbour, until she reached a gap between the moored ships. She paused and looked along the quay. The group from the ship was heading off towards the town, in search of an evening's entertainment, and maybe even someone to help test the sailor's merchandise - at a price. Tevi shook her head in bemusement. She had grown accustomed to money on the mainland, yet could still not come to terms with the full range of things that could be bought. The islander in her felt it wasn't quite right, but neither was it really her concern.

What was her concern was up at the school. From where she stood, Tevi had a clear view of the buildings. The dark jumble of silhouettes crowded the cliff-tops west of town. Her next meeting with Jemeryl was not for two days. In the meantime, she had no way of knowing how the search for the renegade sorcerer was going. It left her feeling desperately uneasy. Her eyes fixed onto the distant buildings, as if she could, by an effort of will, see what was happening there.

"Dominates the town, doesn't it?" An elderly sailor had noticed the focus of her attention.

Tevi recalled herself. "Pardon?"

"The school up there - dominates all of Ekranos."

"I suppose the town has grown up in its shadow." Tevi said, glancing at the sailor.

He was dressed in the local style - a loose yoked smock with embroidered patterns, though these were barely visible beneath an assortment of stains. Despite his clothes, the sailor spoke with the wide rolling vowels of the lands to the north of Lyremouth. The lines on his face were deeply etched. His hands were stained and scared. Calluses showed the effect of a lifetime's work on the seas.

The sailor folded his arms and leaned back against a mooring post, clearly readying himself for a long chat. "No. Ekranos was here long before the school came. It used to be an independent port, pretty rich too - as long as whatever sorcerer ruled here was strong enough. It could control trade on the river and through the striates."

"What made it join the Protectorate?" Tevi asked, mainly to be polite.

"About 300 years back, the ghost-riders appeared, out in the Eastern Ocean. They killed the sorcerer who was here at the time. Ekranos swore allegiance to the Coven. It was a case of urgently needing the protection of the Protectorate. The school was originally an outpost built to guard the Middle Seas, by securing the Striates of Perithia against anything that might want to sail in."

"I thought they were herbalists up there."

"They are now. But they're a later arrival. For the first 100 years, it was a purely a defensive watch-post. Then new castles were built further up the straits and the healers moved in here. They said they could get better supplies in Ekranos. I reckon they wanted a bit of independence from the rest of the Coven. There's always been a bit of friction. If it went to a vote of the ordinary citizens, the healers would run the Coven. In practice, it don't work out like that. But it's true the supplies are better here than at Lyremouth. Many drugs come in from the Nether Islands. More come up the Dhaliki. Way down south are the rain forests. I've been told more plants grow there than in all the rest of the world put together. Mind you, I've seen some strange things growing in other places - flowers that eat birds and the like. I've sailed way beyond Cape Tallis in my time. You wouldn't credit some of the things I've seen..."

After a month on the harbour, Tevi recognised the introduction to a sailor's tall yarn. It was not something she was in the mood to listen to.

"It's good the herbalists have found a place where they can get everything they need. I can see they wouldn't want to go trotting around the world, picking things themselves." She cut in quickly to forestall the tale, then smiled and started to walk on.

The sailor did not take the hint. He continued speaking. "Oh, the sorcerers still go out travelling now and again, trying to find new specimens - though I admit most aren't keen on it. As a rule they're happier stuck with their books and potions. The deputy, Neame - she's the one who travels the most, and I reckon that's down to a dislike of the company in the school. I hear she's planning a trip out east next year and she had a long trek up and down Walderim three years back - was gone best part of a year. Then she had that shorter trip, down to the rain forest."

Tevi stopped in her tracks. If what the sailor said were true, it could be very important. However, she should not seem too eager in questioning him. Her gaze drifted across the roofs of the warehouses. The moon, well passed its full, hung above the town of Ekranos; the last remnants of daylight gave it a translucent sheen. She turned around and leaned back casually against a post.

"Do all the rest of the sorcerers stick in Ekranos then?" Tevi made an effort to sound disinterested, as if merely making polite conversation.

"Well... some of the juniors are forever going off to distant parts in the hope of finding something new and making a name for themselves. There's a couple off on the Sea Witch right now. By the time they get older, they tend to stay put. Bramell has been to Lyremouth twice since he took the headship, but it wasn't anything to do with getting drugs - just as well, he'd be hard put to tell a cabbage from a carnation. Orrago was quite a traveller in her time... of course now she's not up to it now. Levannue is the only other senior who's set foot outside Ekranos recently and that was just a quick visit to see her family the year before last, but perhaps she acquired the taste for travel as I've heard she's planning to go off again. She's heading up north in a month or so." He held up a finger. "No wait - I tell a lie, Roddis also went off last spring, but she'd been gone weeks before anyone noticed. She's too quiet, always gets overlooked."

"You seem to know a lot about the sorcerers." Doubts concerning the information's accuracy started to grow in Tevi's mind. The sailor's claimed knowledge of school matters was far more intimate than seemed likely, even allowing for the dockside grapevine.

The sailor smiled, clearly taking her words as a compliment. "Up until last autumn I was first mate on the Sea Witch, that's the school's own ship. I've sailed everywhere with the sorcerers. But I'm getting too old for that game, so I chucked it in for a shore job. I've known all the sorcerers since they were youngsters. I still see Neame from time to time and we have a little chat. She's decent, as sorcerers go - the only one you can really trust. Don't get me wrong, I respect sorcerers, but they don't think like us. You never know quite where you are with them. Take Bramell for instance. I used..."

Whatever else the sailor might have said was lost. The peace of the dock was shattered by loud shouts echoing along the quay. The voices rose, becoming more aggressive by the second. If it weren't yet a fight, it would be soon. All across the dock, heads turned towards the source of the hubbub - an animated group, clustered around the gangplank to one ship. Already, a second ring of onlookers was forming around them. More people were on deck, hanging over the rails in an attempt to see what was happening.

"I'd better go and sort it out." Tevi was moving even before she spoke.

"Take care. It sounds like trouble."

"Hopefully I can handle it. It's probably just some drunk - I'll see you around maybe."

Tevi jogged briskly down the quay towards the rowdy gang, noting with relief that two other customs officers were converging on the rumpus. Both were making an exaggerated show of the heavy wooden batons they carried. Tevi sighed to herself; it was going to be another busy night on the Ekranos dockside.

*****

The section of the school devoted to non-medicinal herbalism and psychic studies was situated on the edge of the hospital complex. A dark corridor ran the length of the main building. Jemeryl stood at one end and considered the eight doorways. There was no indication as to which one she wanted. I guess mind reading would come under psychic studies, she thought wryly, but nameplates on the doors wouldn't hurt.

Both of the junior sorcerers who normally worked in this section were busy elsewhere and Levannue had urgent need of assistance. Jemeryl had been lent from the hospital. Her instructions had only gone as far as telling her to report to this building. In the end, it was the third door she tried that met with success. At the sound of it opening, Levannue looked up from the instruments on the desk.

"Excuse me, ma'am. Neame has sent me. I think you asked for some extra help?" Jemeryl said meekly.

After subjecting Jemeryl to a few seconds of critical appraisal, Levannue reached into the sixth dimension and twisted several power tensors into an elemental knot. "Can you dissipate that?"

Jemeryl took a sharp breath. Levannue's tone was not aggressive, but it was very definitely confrontational. However it was a simple task. Jemeryl slipped the knot free and allowed the trapped forces to flow away.

"Well that's a pleasant surprise." Levannue sounded satisfied. "Though I don't know how Neame managed to find someone who's competent in the sixth dimension - it must have been down to luck"

Jemeryl thought it wiser not to reply. It was true that many sorcerers in Ekranos were weak in manipulating the powers of the sixth dimension - their skills tended to lie with the life auras of the fifth, but the situation was not quite as bad as the tone implied. Maybe Levannue was assuming Neame would not put much effort in meeting her rival's request for help. Yet surely Levannue must know that the deputy principal was not the sort of person to risk the safety of the school over personal animosity. Neame had even taken advice from Erlam before selecting Jemeryl.

"Take these and come with me." Levannue's tone was brisk.

Jemeryl grabbed the items indicated and followed with haste. She had the feeling that Levannue would have very little tolerance for laziness or negligence.

Outside the building, two witches were already making preparations at the node point. A section of the school shields had become unbalanced and was going to need realignment. The witches were clearly both adepts in the sixth, but blind to the other paranormal dimensions. They would be responsible for keeping the elemental forces under control while Levannue made the delicate repairs. Jemeryl's role was to work as an intermediary. With Levannue so close to the node it was essential that the final link be under the control of someone who could separate out her life aura from the flux. Temporal resonance would also have to be woven into the lines. Jemeryl tried not to grin, but she found that she was looking forward to the challenge.

The job lived up to her expectations. It was easily the most enjoyable project she had undertaken since arriving at the school. Sixth dimensional magic had always been her favourite. Levannue worked quickly and deftly; there was no way her competence could be called into question. Within the hour the realignment was complete. Jemeryl stepped back and let out her breath in a rush, feeling faintly surprised. She had been so engrossed in the task that only now it was over did she realise how tiring it had been.

She was even more surprised when Levannue looked at her with clear approval. "You did well."

This time Jemeryl did not try to hide her smile. Levannue was not someone who would give out praise indiscriminately to her subordinates. It was not in her nature to spare other people's feelings; definitely not where work was involved.

The witches were dismissed and the two sorcerers returned to Levannue's room. There was a record book for the shields that officially required both their signatures. Jemeryl quickly scanned back up the page after signing her name. As she suspected, the 'two name' rule had only been strictly enforced since Bramell became principal. Her smile faded abruptly when saw that, until three years ago, the sorcerer's name beside Levannue's had invariably been that of Aris.

"What is it?" Levannue had noticed the change in her expression.

Jemeryl hesitated, but there seemed no reason not to tell the truth. "It's just... Aris. Vine told me about her unfortunate er... death."

"Yes. She was a sad loss. Her abilities have been greatly missed by this department." Levannue's tone was even more abrupt than usual. She took a breath to say something else, but then stopped, in a very rare show of indecisiveness. She averted her face and then said, "You may put the book away and go."

Levannue hurried off to the far side of the room, almost as if she were running away. Jemeryl pursed her lips thoughtfully. It would appear that the head of psychic studies was not quite as cold and detached as she made out. The death of Aris clearly upset her.

Jemeryl ducked down to return the record book to its place in a cupboard. As she did so she heard the door of the room opening, although, in her crouching position, she was hidden from its view.

"Hello snuggums. Did it all go alright for you, my poppet?"

Jemeryl nearly choked to recognise Bramell's voice, although the sugary tones where unlike anything she had heard from him before. He obviously had no idea that she was there. If only Levannue were similarly unaware of her presence Jemeryl might have tried keeping out of sight until they had both gone, however she did not have that option. Unwillingly, she stood up straight.

At the sight of her the principal's face went through a range of expressions - all of them hard to put a name on, while Levannue looked exasperated. Jemeryl merely wished that she were somewhere else. Without a word being said by anyone she sidled out of the room, past Bramell, who had not moved an inch from the doorway.

It was only when she had reached the enclosed courtyard outside the building that Jemeryl let herself start giggling. Unfortunately, she dare not share the story with Vine. If the name 'snuggums' circulated the school, both Bramell and Levannue would know who blame. Jemeryl shook her head. She had realised that Bramell's hard, dictatorial manner was a facade, but she would never have guessed it covered a soppy, sentimental interior.

*****

The tide was ebbing as Tevi walked up the beach. The morning sun fell square on her back. Wading birds were probing the wet sand with long, thin beaks. They scattered at her approach in a flurry of white wings and wailing cries. Only Tevi's footprints defaced the smooth, featureless surface of freshly exposed sand. The single track on the shore behind her led back to Ekranos.

At the high-tide point, a thick line of dead seaweed, broken shells and driftwood marked the division between wet and dry sand. She stopped and looked up. Cliffs of pitted white chalk rose in broken tiers, slashed by tilted fault planes. It was dazzling in the bright sunshine. Irregular bands of stunted gorse and sea-grass sprouted from cracks. The only break was where a wide seam of harder rock split the face of the chalk in a diagonal line.

A narrow path picked its way down this route, hollowed by the passage of feet. Steps were cut back into the chalk at the steeper points. The ledge faded into the cliffs at the top and a wooden handrail edged the side of the path along this most precarious section. Looking higher still, the footpath finally disappeared over the cliff-top. A small gateway was set under a wooden arch; surely not so much to guard the rear entrance to the school of herbalism as to mark the start of the path for those leaving.

Tevi walked further up the beach. At the high-tide line, the sun-dried seaweed crackled under her feet and swarms of sand flies rose in buzzing clouds. She selected a patch of clean dry sand, turned around and sat cross-legged, looking back out over the water. Memories of Storenseg teased at her thoughts, triggered by the familiar sour smell of dead seaweed and sound of waves hissing over the sand. Tevi's eyes closed and she rested her chin on her fists. The breeze off the sea gently lifted her hair, tickling the sides of her face and forehead.

"Tevi." The shout came from behind. Tevi twisted around.

Jemeryl was a third of the way down the cliff path. Tevi scrambled to her feet and raced up the beach to meet her. Dry sand slipped back under her feet so each step seemed to take her only a few inches forward. By the time Tevi reached the foot of the path, Jemeryl had almost completed her descent. She threw her arms about Tevi, and held her close while they kissed.

"I'm sorry I'm late, have you been waiting long?" Jemeryl said.

"Only a few minutes."

With arms wrapped around each other's waist, they wandered a short way along the shore, until a sharp bend in the cliff face took them out of sight of the path. A crumbling spur of rock made a natural windbreak, sheltering a warm sandy spot, and hiding them from view.

Tevi let go of Jemeryl and flopped down on the sand. She sat, stretching out her legs and leaning back with her arms as props, elbows locked straight. Her eyes were closed and she smiled, enjoying the sun on her face. Jemeryl knelt beside her and gently knocked a supporting arm away, pushing Tevi flat on her back.

"How long before you have to return?" Jemeryl asked, with a teasing undercurrent to her voice. Her fingers moved to unfastened Tevi's shirt.

Tevi slipped from under Jemeryl's hand and struggled to sit up. "No, wait. We've got to talk, Jem. I've learnt something. Neame was in Walderim at the time the chalice was taken - a sailor on the docks told me. Neame must be the traitor."

The smile left Jemeryl's face immediately. She sat back on her heels, and braced her hands on her knees. While Tevi briefly repeated her conversation with the sailor, she stared silently into the distance.

"That was all he had to say?" Jemeryl asked when the account was finished.

"Yes, and I can't be sure he was telling the truth. But, in my experience, when sailors make up stories they tend to be more dramatic."

"He's obviously familiar with the school. And some of his information is definitely correct. Levannue is intending to take a trip north later this year. I've heard about it from Vine." Jemeryl bit her lip.

"So Neame is the one we're after?" Tevi prompted, seeking agreement.

Jemeryl frowned. "It's still only a guess. There's no real proof."

"You can't let your liking for people influence your judgement."

"Oh, I know that." Jemeryl pulled her knees up.

"There's more to it. I can see it in your face." Tevi felt a sudden certainty.

"Yes... there is. The sailor was right about there being a party of sorcerers travelling in Walderim at the time the chalice was stolen. I'm not sure who was in the group, but Neame may well have been leading it. I could ask Vine, she's bound to know. The problem is getting the information without setting her off wondering why I'm interested." Jemeryl sighed. "One of the people in the group I do know about was a young sorcerer called Aris. But she never came back to Ekranos - with or without the chalice. She died in Walderim. The story is she killed herself."

There was a long silence. When Tevi spoke, her voice was soft but very serious. "That would seem to leave us with two possibilities. Either her death is a pure coincidence, or Aris found out about the chalice and Neame killed her and made it look like suicide. Jem, you've got to be very careful. I know you like Neame, but we aren't just talking about someone indulging in a little unofficial prying into secrets. There's a good chance we're talking about deliberate murder. I'm worried about you. You mustn't take risks."

Jemeryl's forehead dropped onto her knees. "I admit it looks bad for Neame, but we need more proof."

Despite her own conviction, Tevi could sense her lover's unhappiness. She didn't want Jemeryl to ignore her own danger, yet she didn't want to put a rift between them. She took hold of Jemeryl's hand, trying to think of some conciliatory words. "Well... yes, I suppose we need to eliminate other people first, to be totally certain. Like Levannue. She made that trip to her family. Perhaps the sailor got the dates wrong and maybe she comes from Walderim."

Jemeryl shook her head slowly. "From her accent Levannue comes from around Serac."

"Perhaps her family has emigrated recently."

"It's all right, my love. You don't have to strain conjecture too far." Jemeryl put her arm around Tevi's waist. "If Neame's the guilty one then we'll get her. But it will mean that I've been totally duped, and I'll never trust my own judgement again."

Jemeryl rested her head on Tevi's shoulder. The pair of them stared out across the beach. The sun was starting to beat hard upon the sand and play in dazzling glitter over the water. The sea was deep turquoise blue. Birds scurried at the water's edge, darting back and forth between the waves.

"Will you be really upset if it's Neame?" Tevi asked eventually.

"Yes. But if Neame is guilty, then her caring manner is a sham, and the woman I like and admire doesn't exist. Whatever the truth is, it can be sorted out later. For the moment, I've got some free time with you, and it's too precious a commodity to waste brooding." Jemeryl took a deep breath and raised her head. The grin returned to her face. "You didn't answer my original question, how long before you have to go back?"

"I've got to be on the docks two hours before noon."

"Plenty of time."

The hand around Tevi's waist started to tug her shirt free of her belt.

"Jem! Supposing someone comes strolling along the beach." There was no real protest in Tevi's voice.

"I'll set a shimmer screen for the eyes of the ungifted and sorcerers ought to have better manners than to pry. Even Vine has her standards..." Jemeryl paused for a moment and shrugged. "I think."

Tevi laughed. She wrapped her arms around Jemeryl's shoulder and fell back, pulling Jemeryl down on top of her. For a while they lay, kissing, while their actions increased steadily in passion. Tevi's hands burrowed into Jemeryl's clothing, until they reached the soft, warm skin. At the same time she felt Jemeryl's mouth and teeth on her throat. Tevi could guess the sort of remarks it would draw if she returned to the docks with marks showing, but she was not about to ask Jemeryl to stop.

The sounds and smells of the sea, and the hot sand beneath her, carried Tevi back to Storenseg. It could have been one of her adolescent fantasies made real, but the woman in her arms exceeded anything she had ever imagined. She was amazed at how much she wanted Jemeryl. The physical ache was the least of it. Her desire to touch Jemeryl and be touched, although rooted in her body, seemed to transcend it. It was a wave of passion that could carry her very soul away.

Jemeryl's hand was kneading Tevi's breast through her shirt, taking her swiftly to a state of advanced arousal. Tevi pulled away and began to loosen her own clothing. It would be wisest to get undressed while she was still able to muster some self-control. She drew the line at returning to work with torn cloths.

Chapter 5: A Sorcerer's Pride

Jemeryl shouldered the door shut behind her and deposited the tray containing potions and other equipment on the table. The bleak whitewashed walls of the quarantine room were as cheerless as the first time she had seen them. The patient, Gewyn, lay unconscious on one of the beds, deep in the coma that had held her since the night she entered the hospital. Her skin was dry and hot to the touch, and was covered with livid blotchy marks. Scabs encrusted her lips and eyes. Jemeryl bent to pull the covers straight, gently tucking one trailing arm back under the blanket.

"She's not getting any better, is she?" A dejected voice spoke from the other side of the room.

Jemeryl glanced over her shoulder. The speaker was the fair-haired man who had accompanied Gewyn on her arrival and had scarcely left her side since. His mournful face had become a familiar sight in the hospital. He got to his feet and wandered listlessly across the room to the one small window. The bright blue sky outside was yellowing to evening.

"We're doing everything we can." Jemeryl used her most reassuring tones.

"Oh, I know. I'm very grateful, ma'am." He left the window and joined Jemeryl at the bedside. His lips worked against each other. At last, he said, "I'm so frightened for her."

Vaguely sympathetic noises were all Jemeryl could offer.

The young man carried on talking. His voice lurched in a despairing monotone through unfinished sentences. "What will I say to her parents... Gewyn was so keen... If I go back without her..."

"It may not come to that."

"We've known each other two years. We met at the midsummer festival. She was with friends... drunk. They were falling over each other and singing. The first thing I noticed was her voice... She's the worst singer you've ever heard - raucous and tone-deaf and..." His rambling ground to a halt.

Jemeryl looked at him. The man's head was bowed. The heels of his hands were pressed hard against his eyes.

Jemeryl's gaze shifted back to the hapless patient. Gewyn was an ordinary, ungifted citizen - someone who would usually go unnoticed. Suddenly, the image of Tevi, also ungifted, lying near to death hit Jemeryl. She tried to push the vision away, but the image stuck in her eyes, so strongly Jemeryl felt certain it was a foretelling. In panic, she clawed at the seventh dimension but under her probes the vision faded, striking no resonance in the web of fate. Relief washed over Jemeryl with physical force - not a true oracle, just normal human anxiety.

The room settled into its standard timeframe. Jemeryl looked again at the young man. Tears of sympathy stung her eyes. Almost without intending it, she put her arms around him. At her touch, his self-control broke completely and he clung to her like a child, while sobs shook his body. When the tremors finally subsided, Jemeryl sat him on the other bunk, filled a cup with water and placed it in his hands. The cup chattered against his teeth as he sipped the water.

"I'm sorry ma'am. I'm just..." he mumbled.

"Don't apologise. I understand."

"I've made your shoulder wet." He forced a feeble smile.

"It'll dry."

The door to the room opened and Neame entered. She said nothing, but her gaze clearly absorbed the message in the man's red eyes. Parts of Neame's face softened in compassion while, at the same time, other parts hardened in resolve. It was a strange, composite expression that left no doubt of her commitment to Gewyn's health. Neame was not using magic to cast a dissembling glamour - Jemeryl was certain of that. Either the response was genuine or it was a superb piece of acting. And if she's acting, then I'm a small pink tree frog. The thought shot through Jemeryl's mind.

The covers were folded back to reveal Gewyn's plague-wracked body. Sweat marks stained the under sheet, streaked with blood from broken scabs. Neame perched on the side of the bed, leaning forward to examine the patient in silence. Her hands moved deftly over Gewyn's body: taking her pulse, pressing the swelling at neck and groin, and probing the sticky thinness of her aura.

"We need to reapply the lotion. Warm it up, while I get her to drink this elixir." Neame instructed.

It was a simple bit of juggling in the sixth dimension to heat the lotion. On the other side of the room, the young man watched with an expression of tormented misery - yet a desperate hope lay there also. Neame could probably inspire hope in the dead. Again, Jemeryl felt tears burn in her eyes.

Neame had recently platted her braid and, for once, there were no wisps of escaping hair. It would not last. Neame never paid attention to her appearance while working. The job she was doing now was a typical example. Heedless of the blood and pus, Neame had an arm around the patient's shoulders to hold her in a sitting position. It would have required slightly more effort to achieve the same thing by telekinesis, but Jemeryl knew which option she would have taken.

Once Gewyn had been induced to swallow the elixir and was lying back on the bed, the two sorcerers daubed the heated lotion on the raw sores. The patient showed no sign of stirring. Her breathing was quick and shallow, but the elixir was easing the dry rasping in her throat.

"Right, nearly finished." Neame glanced at Jemeryl. "We must change the bottom sheet. Will you be able to lift her on your own, or shall I call another sorcerer to help?"

Jemeryl spotted a suitable drift current in the sixth dimension. "I think I should be able to manage."

Even with the help of the current, it took immense concentration for Jemeryl to float Gewyn two feet clear of the mattress, partly due the risk of harming her by unbalancing the elemental forces. At least Neame wasted no time in yanking the old sheet away and replacing it with a fresh one. In less than a minute, Jemeryl was able to lower the patient gently, ready to be tucked up in her bed.

While Neame went to exchange a few comforting words with Gewyn's companion, Jemeryl gathered the items on the table, aware of feeling slightly irked. She supposed she should be flattered that Neame had trusted her to lift the patient on her own, but it would have been much easier if the senior sorcerer had played her part. Then Jemeryl froze. It had just registered that Neame had offered to call someone else. Why call a third sorcerer when there were already two present?

Jemeryl realised she had never seen Neame make any use of the sixth dimension. At the time of the accident in the dispensary, she had been in no condition to think, but Neame had physically pulled her from the room, risking her own life with the poisonous fumes. The iron stove made telekinesis difficult, But it didn't stop me from throwing Vine back, Jemeryl thought.

The demarcation between superior witch and sorcerer was blurred - the Coven never bound itself with inflexible rules. An awareness of all seven dimensions was the customary minimum criteria for becoming a sorcerer, yet suddenly Neame's abilities seemed suspect.

Jemeryl picked up the tray and went to stand by the door. For the first time, she considered Neame's persona using the full range of her senses. Now that Jemeryl was alerted, it was impossible to miss the ridged and unbalanced stance and the way Neame followed rather than flowed with the currents - two classic traits of those blind to the sixth dimension.

Jemeryl jerked a small power-tensor, trying to make it seem like an involuntary twitch. To a sorcerer the effect was rather like a loud cough. Neame did not react. Again, Jemeryl disturbed the sixth dimension; this time a more blatant upheaval that should have had any senior sorcerer looking at her in disapproval. However, Neame appeared no more aware than the young man she was speaking to.

Jemeryl's eyes fixed unseeing on the washed yellow sky outside the window while her thoughts raced. The discovery turned their hunt for the renegade sorcerer on its head. Jemeryl frowned as she considered the implication - Neame was off the list of suspects.

*****

Night had fallen by the time Jemeryl returned to her quarters. Darkness lay thick between the buildings of the school. Her thoughts were absorbed with Neame as she climbed the stairway and walked along the veranda, past the rooms belonging to other junior sorcerers. She pushed open the door to her shared study.

Vine was already there, sitting at a desk overloaded with assorted academic clutter. Encroaching piles had been elbowed aside to clear a small workspace. At the edge of the desk, several displaced books were threatening to tip off. Another book was propped open a few inches from Vine's nose, illuminated by a light globe floating above her head. Vine sighed loudly, scrunched up the paper she had been writing on, and tossed it over her shoulder. It landed on the floor with a faint rustle. Vine was not noted as the tidiest of workers.

Jemeryl dropped into the other chair and rested her elbows on her desk. She looked at where the rubbish from Vine had spilled onto her workspace. It was a long running but minor source of irritation. Normally, it would have drawn a comment, however tonight Jemeryl was too preoccupied to bother. Her eyes stared blankly at the window. All that could be seen was the reflection of her own narrow face, with chin resting on cupped hand, and forehead knotted in thought.

Vine looked up from her hurried scribbling. "What's up?"

"Neame's blind to the sixth dimension, isn't she?"

There was a long silence. "And the seventh." Vine conceded eventually.

"But she ranks as a sorcerer rather than a witch." Jemeryl spoke her thoughts aloud. She was unprepared for the violence of Vine's response.

"Of course she does. Only a bigoted idiot would think otherwise. You've seen her work. She's the most inspired healer in Ekranos. No one's ever been able to manipulate the fifth dimension in the way she does. Anyone who says Neame doesn't..."

Jemeryl held up her hands to halt the flow. "It's alright. I'm not..."

Vine showed no sign of hearing. She stormed on. "They had no doubts in declaring Neame a sorcerer - none at all. From the day she came here, people knew she was the sort of talent you tear up the rule book for."

"I wasn't trying..."

"Of course pompous blockheads like Bramell find it hard to cope with. It's the reason she was passed over for principal, though it leaves her free to concentrate on the thing she can do better than anyone else - saving people's lives. It's what you do with your gift that counts. There are hundreds of people walking around out there who'd be dead without Neame."

"I don't..."

"She's as much right to her rank as any other sorcerer in the Protectorate. When I..."

"I'M NOT DISPUTING IT!" Jemeryl shouted, getting heated herself.

"Oh." Vine sagged back in her chair, deflated once her flow of rhetoric had been disrupted. Her eyes dropped, breaking from the combative glare.

Jemeryl took her chance. "You know I respect Neame. I've learned more from her in the past few weeks than I did from some of the fully gifted teachers after years at Lyremouth. You don't need to argue the point. I was surprised; that's all."

Vine lifted her eyes from the table. One corner of her mouth twitched in a faintly apologetic grimace. "I got a bit steamed-up."

"Yes. You did."

"Sorry. All of us in the hospital are devoted to Neame. And when some pig-headed fool who hasn't been here five minutes thinks they're better than her..."

Jemeryl cut in. "I wasn't..." She was interrupted in turn.

"I know. I wasn't referring to you. There have been others in the past."

"I shouldn't think it was possible work in the hospital and not admire her."

"Some have managed it." Vine said, with a hint of old anger.

"That would say more about their own lack of ability than Neame's."

"True." Vine agreed. "It also shows a great lack of wisdom - it's not a clever stand to take. Making an issue about her rank is just about the only thing, other than deliberate cruelty, that'll get Neame screaming for blood."

"I suppose she feels vulnerable about her disability."

"Maybe." Vine shrugged. "It's caused real trouble in the past."

"It was the start of her feud with Levannue?" Jemeryl was struck by the sudden insight.

"Yes - with a couple of added ingredients."

"Such as?"

Vine hesitated for a second, but discretion never stood a chance. She leaned forward and lowered her voice, although there was no one around to hear. "What I've heard is Levannue came here as a junior when Neame was still finishing her apprenticeship. They were lovers for a while. It was very intense and steamy by all accounts. Then Neame chucked her for someone else. Levannue was utterly heartbroken - she went around crying for weeks. I know it's hard to imagine when you look at her now. Anyway, when she realised she wasn't going to get Neame back she embarked on the spiteful stage of a break-up. She started saying loudly, to anyone who'd listen, that Neame was too handicapped to ever be ranked as a sorcerer and KABOOM..." Vine made an explosive gesture, throwing her hands up into the air.

"They're still arguing about it?"

"Oh, things have moved on since then. I mean, Levannue has been with Bramell for decades. Presumably, she's got over the broken heart. But Neame... she doesn't develop a grudge easily, but once she has she'll nurse it - I never said she was perfect. And there's been enough sniping between the pair of them down the years to keep things boiling nicely."

It was all information, but it didn't seem to get anywhere, except that eliminating Neame allowed more focus on the other suspects. Jemeryl tried unsuccessfully to imagine Levannue as a heartbroken young woman - perhaps the prickly aloofness had been cultivated as a defence. It must be a strain, to share the same small site with an ex-lover who would not drop a grudge.

"It sounds as if they could have done with putting some space between themselves." Jemeryl suggested.

"They couldn't leave Ekranos without sacrificing their careers. Neame had to stay at the hospital, and Levannue was training under old Thirese - he was the Protectorate's leading authority on charms back then."

"I guess it's one reason to avoid having affairs with other sorcerers."

"Maybe, but I wouldn't recommend using them as an example, when Bramell calls you in for a talk about your mercenary." Vine said with a grin.

The reminder of the predicted confrontation made Jemeryl groan. "Do you think anyone's told him about it yet?"

"Probably not. He's usually the last person on site to hear things. You should be okay for at least another ten days."

"It's none of his business."

"True, but I wouldn't recommend telling him that either."

"I was intending to phrase it a bit more tactfully." Jemeryl said dryly.

Vine laughed, her normal good humour restored, until her eyes fixed on her overloaded desk. She glared at the mess as if considering hurling a small fireball. "I don't suppose you fancy finishing off this report for me so I can go to bed?"

The tone of despair made Jemeryl smile as she got to her feet. "No. Because that's where I'm headed."

Vine sighed. "You know, just once in a while, do you ever ask yourself what we're doing here in the Coven, writing frigging reports? We could be off ruling mighty empires, with thousands of slaves to obey our every whim."

Jemeryl stopped in the doorway to her bedroom and looked back, shaking her head slowly. "I can't see you in the role."

"Why not?"

"Imagine the scene. You, an all-powerful empress, stride into your imperial audience chamber. Ranks of black-clad warriors fall silent. You summon your most trusted warlord to your side and say," Jemeryl's voice switched to an eager undertone, typical of Vine, "Hey, have you heard the latest about..." Jemeryl got no further. She dodged the small missile Vine tossed in her direction and ducked through the doorway.

In the privacy of her own tidy room, Jemeryl peeled off her outer layer of clothing and slipped into bed. She lay on her back, hands clasped behind her head, and considered the implications of the evening's discovery. One thing was certain - Neame, blind to the sixth dimension, would neither be able to mind-ride a raven nor read a chalice.

Jemeryl rolled over and pulled the blanket up. As she drifted off to sleep, Vine's last reflection echoed in her head. It had been said in jest, but the question it raised was serious. So far her attention had been given to the 'who', not the 'why'. It was not comforting to speculate about the traitor's motives. Iralin had known the purpose of the spell - and Iralin had been frightened.

*****

The small cellar tavern was crowded and very noisy. The air was thick with smoke from lanterns mixed with the smell of sweat and spilt beer. The atmosphere was friendly - extremely friendly in places, since whores and their customers formed a large section of the clientele.

In one of the rowdier corners of the tavern Tevi sat with Klara perched on her shoulder, surrounded by a group of comrades from the guildhall. A member of the bar-staff appeared between the press of bodies. He had three tankards of beer clasped in either hand, which he deposited on the table before the young mercenaries, the contents miraculously unspilt.

"I'll pay for these." Tevi volunteered. Her offer was greeted by loud cheers.

She stood up, fumbling with the purse at her belt. As she shook out a few coins a brass key slipped through her fingers and clattered to the table. One of the other mercenaries picked it up.

"What's this?" he asked, once the waiter had departed with the money.

Someone else suggested jokingly, "Back door of a... ahem... friend's house, for use when their partner is away?"

"No. It's the key to the customs office. I helped lock up and was supposed to hand it in at the harbour-master's room. I must have dropped it into my purse instead." The words themselves were not technically untrue, although Tevi's tone was misleading in implying an oversight. She reclaimed the key and twirled it thoughtfully between thumb and finger. "I think I'd better take it back."

"You can drop it in first thing tomorrow."

Tevi shrugged. "It's not far, and I don't want to get into trouble."

"I doubt anyone will notice it's missing."

"Hopefully not, but I'll do it now anyway. Keep an eye on my beer. I won't be long and I expect to see a full tankard when I return."

"There's an optimist for you." The speaker was teasing. There was no doubt that Tevi's drink would be safe and untouched on her return. Stealing from your comrades - no matter how trivial the circumstances - was unthinkable.

Tevi squeezed her way to the door, edging between the crowds and stepping over drunks collapsed on the floor. Once outside the tavern, she leapt up the short flight of steps to street level and expelled the thick barroom air from her lungs with a deep breath. The tavern was in the run-down section of town, backing onto the docks. Given the lateness of the hour, close on midnight, there were a surprising number of people about. The hubbub from the tavern echoed down the street.

A brisk pace took her quickly through the maze of alleys to the customs office. Before opening the door she hesitated and looked up and down the street. Three drunken sailors were staggering along on their way back to the harbour. They were attempting to have a very disjointed and repetitive conversation, although from what Tevi could hear they were not even discussing the same thing. In the other direction, two merchants were talking far more purposefully in the doorway to a warehouse. No one paid much attention to her.

The key turned easily in the lock and the door swung open. A lamp and flint stood ready on a shelf. It was the work of seconds to find the right book and carefully count out the pages. Tevi propped the import records open on the desk and lifted Klara down from her shoulder.

"Read Klara. Go on, read for Jem." Tevi spoke softly.

The magpie's beady eyes glittered in the lamplight. Her head bobbed twice, then she stepped close, so her beak almost touched the paper. Hopefully it would not take her long to memorise the page.

Tevi wandered over to the front of the office and peered out through a window. It had not been possible to sneak Klara in to view the customs records during the day. Pets were not allowed on duty and the small office was rarely left unoccupied. She had eagerly seized the chance to hang onto the key. The scene in the tavern had been staged to provide witnesses to her 'accidental' discovery of the key in her purse. When she handed it in at the harbour-master's room, she would announce she had popped into the office on the way, to check that nothing else had been left undone. If any telltale signs of her visit were discovered in the morning it should not arouse suspicions - folk tended to be less distrustful if they are told things in advance.

There was a soft squawk from Klara. She had finished studying the page. Quickly, Tevi returned the book to the shelf and blew out the lamp. Only a couple of minutes after entering, she was again outside, locking the door and fighting hard to keep a self-satisfied smile from her face.

The two merchants were still in the nearby doorway. It almost certainly would not be necessary but they could confirm that she had entered and left the building alone - but surely nobody would suspect her of hidden motives in taking the keys to a room containing nothing but books, when she couldn't read.

*****

The school bell was just striking an hour past noon as Jemeryl swung the small bag over her shoulder and closed the door of the study behind her. She hurried along the open veranda and leapt down the staircase at the end, eager to be gone. She was missing Tevi even more than she had expected. Instructions had been left at the stables and one of the riding horses was saddled and waiting. Within minutes, she was outside the school perimeter and trotting along the dusty track leading into town.

There was a sprinkling of traffic on the road, mainly farm carts. The midday sun bleached the colour from the landscape. Spring was turning to summer and the transient green was fading to parched brown. The horse's hooves crunched on the road, sending small pieces of gravel bouncing ahead through the dry dust.

Before Jemeryl had covered a quarter of the distance sweat was starting to fleck the horse's flanks. Despite her impatience to see Tevi, she was going to have to slow her pace. She was just about to rein back her horse when she overtook Erlam, who was travelling on official business, judging by his formal clothing.

Jemeryl hailed him and brought her horse to a walk. "You heading into Ekranos?"

"Yes. A meeting with the town council."

"Anything exciting?"

"Have you met the town council?" The ironic edge to Erlam's voice answered the question.

"Nearly as much fun as working with Tapley?" Jemeryl suggested.

"Exactly. Although I hear you made quite an impression on him."

"I did?" Jemeryl was surprised the raven keeper could even remember her.

"You mean Vine hasn't told you?"

"No. What did Tapley say?"

"Apparently you've got real talent for mind-riding, which is rare in the school, apart from those in Levannue's section. Most of us aren't that happy linking to the ravens."

"It's nice to think I'm good at something - shame it's not more useful." Jemeryl was silent while they rode around a large ox-cart. Once they were passed she asked, "How important are the ravens really?"

Erlam laughed. "They're absolutely critical - about once every ten years. The rest of the time they're just for show."

"So why do all the sorcerers have to train with them? Why not just one or two who have the talent?"

"Sorcerer's pride. You know what we're like. None of us want to lose face in front of the witches by having to ask another sorcerer to do something for us."

"I'm sure that..." Jemeryl started, but then stopped. Erlam was not so far from the truth. It made her think of Neame's sensitivity over her limitations. "I suppose that's why Neame wanted to make an artificial bird?"

"You've heard about it?"

"Tapley told me. He was outraged at the idea."

Erlam gave an amused snort. "I can imagine."

"He didn't think it could ever work."

"It should have - in theory."

"But not so easy in practice?" Jemeryl surmised.

"Exactly."

"Were you one of the people working on it?" It seemed a likely bet for Neame's assistant.

"I helped."

"Was it a true golem, with a pseudo-life of it's own?"

"That was the intention."

"So as long as you told it where to go and what to get it could have gone to the ends of the earth and back?" Jemeryl had to work to make sure her voice didn't sound too eager.

"Again - in theory."

"How far had the project got?"

"Hard to say. It seemed as if it was almost done, then there were a couple of minor accidents. They might have been teething problems or they might have been serious flaws in the design. We never got to the chance to find out." Erlam sounded annoyed. "Bramell took fright and ordered Neame to stop. It was unpleasant. He marched in, confiscated everything and locked it up in his office. Neame was furious."

"And she took herself off to Walderim for a while to calm down?" Jemeryl guessed.

"That was about it." Erlam's voice was clipped.

Too late Jemeryl remembered that mentioning the expedition to Walderim was not diplomatic. A quick glance confirmed that Erlam's expression was strained, the pain manifest. As Aris's lover he had even more reason to be upset at her death than Levannue. By mutual consent, the subject was dropped. For a while, they limited their discussion to general school matters. As they reached the outskirts of Ekranos, Erlam prompted another change in topic.

"I hear you've got yourself a lover in town."

"I guess there was no chance me keeping it a secret, when I share a study with Vine."

"None whatsoever." Erlam agreed, laughing.

"I've been warned I'll be in for a lecture when the news gets as far as Bramell. I know they prefer for us to stick to other sorcerers, but there's limited choice at the school and it's not as if affairs between sorcerers haven't caused problems in the past." Jemeryl said, thinking of Neame and Levannue, however Erlam took her statement more personally.

"You've heard about me and Aris." His voice held a bitter edge.

Again, Jemeryl cursed her own tactlessness. "Um... yes... it was mentioned."

"It's all right. I can talk about her. It's supposed to be good for me."

"Oh..." Jemeryl was at a loss. The grief in Erlam's voice was overwhelming. She could not bring herself to probe at the old wound, but Erlam himself seemed suddenly eager to talk.

"The relationship was trouble from the start, but if I had my time again I'd..." He broke off then restarted. "She used to say she needed me, but often it seemed as if I only made her worse. She was unstable. Anything could send her into a depression, crying, brooding - and then other times... I never knew how she'd be from one day to the next. She was impossible to live with, but I miss her."

"Could nothing be done?" Jemeryl asked gently.

"Not without going back in time and blasting her parents to ashes. It was all their fault. I know our families have a hard time, but my parents still loved me, even when they realised I was going to be a sorcerer. Hers were vicious. They were frightened of her. From the time she was a baby, they used every cruel, spiteful trick they could think of to keep her under their thumb. They made her an emotional wreck." His voice dropped so it was barely audible over the sound of the horses' hooves. "She killed herself - climbed to the top of a tower and jumped off. I keep telling myself it wasn't my fault, but knowing she did that. She needed me and I wasn't there."

"Couldn't Neame stop..." Jemeryl began, although she wasn't sure what anyone could have done.

"Aris was on her own. The party was just her, Neame and two witches. The other three went off for a few days to get samples. They left Aris behind to do the processing. When they got back she was..." Erlam did not finish the sentence. "I know Neame curses herself for leaving her alone. But Aris had been getting so much calmer - that was why she was allowed to go with the party to start with. They thought a break from the school would help her - the relapse was unexpected."

By now, they were riding through the streets of Ekranos. The bustle of people was all around them, but Erlam was unaware. His eyes were fixed on the distance. "I was sitting here waiting for her to come back, counting the days and watching the boats sail into harbour, and all the time she was already dead and gone."

Jemeryl searched desperately for something to say. There was nothing that was neither trite nor hopelessly inadequate, yet silence was the worst response of all. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to dredge this up for you."

"It's all right. I'm starting to get over losing her, maybe another few years..." Erlam's bitter smile looked more like a grimace. "Perhaps the talking will help."

The junction where their paths separated was drawing close. After a few parting words, Jemeryl turned onto the side street. She was ashamed of her relief - Erlam's misery was infectious, but the feeling did not last long. With rising spirits, she headed for her rendezvous with Tevi at the 'Inn of Singing Birds'.

*****

The windows of the upstairs room were flung wide open. Tevi sat on the deep wooden sill with her feet up, enjoying the sun on her face and the gentle breeze carrying the sounds and smells of the city to her. In the square below people, moved about their business, but the pace was slow, lazy in the late afternoon heat.

It was easy to fall into the unhurried rhythm of Ekranos, to sit and watch the world go by. Tevi yawned and turned her head, looking back into the dimness of the room. The solid furniture had seen better days; time had left the surfaces pitted and stained. A fresh coat of paint would have improved the walls. The greenish glass in the windowpanes was of poor quality. However, the room was clean and comfortable and more than adequate for their needs.

Just inside the window was a small table where Jemeryl sat writing. Her face was serious in concentration as her hand flew across the page. The sun caught on the sharp lines of her cheekbone and jaw, emphasising the texture of her skin and making a soft shadow where her shirt hung open at the neck. Tevi sat for a while, studying her lover. She tried once again to evaluate the changes to her life since she had left Storenseg. It was barely over a year, but seemed a lifetime, as if it had been some other woman who had been entrapped, betrayed and exiled that evening in the hay-barn.

Tevi slipped her legs down from the windowsill and moved to stand behind Jemeryl. She leaned against the back of the chair and watched the lines of writing appear under the sharp movements of the pen. Four columns were being formed; one wide and three narrow, marching steadily down the page. The numbers were familiar thanks to the lessons with Marith. Tevi also thought she recognised some of the letters as she studied the page, trying to pick out blocks of repeated patterns - someone had told her that this was the key to reading.

At the back of the table Klara stood, frozen in a trance. The only movement to show she was not a painted statue was the ruffling of her downy breast feathers in the faint breeze through the window. Where the bright sunlight fell across her plumage it shimmered with a metallic blue-black sheen, set against the crisp white. Abruptly, Klara started to stir. A twitch of the head and neck spread down her back, growing into several full beats of her wings.

Jemeryl sighed and put down the pen. She leaned back to rest her head against Tevi. "Well, that's the information I needed."

"I got the right page?" Tevi asked.

"Spot-on." Jemeryl reached up and pulled Tevi's head down for a quick kiss. "All I have to do now is find out how much nectar can be accounted for in the school."

"Anything else you want me to do?"

"See if you can pick up any gossip in the town."

Tevi looked dubious. "There's not much chance of that. Most ordinary people don't concern themselves with the doings of sorcerers."

"I suppose I should be pleased you're not that ordinary."

"Even I'm not very interested in sorcerers in general, just two in particular."

"Two?" Jemeryl said, raising her eyebrows.

"You and our traitor."

"Oh."

Tevi returned to sit on the windowsill. "You're sure Neame is in the clear?"

"Yes." Jemeryl swivelled to face Tevi, hanging an arm over the back of her chair. "The fifth dimension holds the spirits of life, they're called auras. Neame is able to manipulate them like no one else in the Coven. But to mind-ride you have to control both auras and power tensors, and that needs access to the sixth dimension. She couldn't have been the one to send the raven to your island."

"Maybe she coerced Aris into doing it for her." Tevi suggested.

"Even if she had, Neame would be incapable of reading the information from the chalice."

"Where does that leave us?"

Jemeryl stared though the window, frowning. When she spoke her voice was measured and thoughtful. "Nobody outside Walderim could have got the raven to the island and back. Aris was the only person in Walderim capable of mind-riding, but obviously she couldn't be the one to bring the chalice to Ekranos."

"So, you seem to be saying that the party in Walderim weren't able to take the chalice, and that no one else could have either." Tevi summarised.

"Yes, if using the ravens, but there's another possibility - Neame's golem-bird. Erlam claims it was almost functional, but Bramell had it under lock and key."

"Why?"

"Safety, so he claimed. He was very keen to take it off Neame and get his own hands on it." There was no need for Jemeryl to spell out the implications.

Tevi mulled over the information. "Could anyone else have got to the... what did you call it, golem-bird?"

"Unfortunately, yes. At the time the chalice was taken, the entire school was in chaos due to plague. Moragar was virtually in charge and was free to do anything he wanted. Levannue also recovered quickly and since she shares Bramell's quarters, she'd have no trouble helping herself to his property. However, given the state of anarchy, probably anyone capable of standing could have done the same. The only two we can eliminate are Orrago - by all accounts she was at death's door, and Neame, who was out in Walderim."

"So you think it was Bramell, Levannue or Moragar?"

Jemeryl pursed her lips thoughtfully. "I suppose there's a couple of weaker bets."

"Such as?"

"Erlam. He's not a senior sorcerer, but since Neame is blind to the sixth dimension, she can't be able to supervise him as tightly as I had assumed. He might have used the golem-bird to get the chalice himself, or he might have been working with Aris... or not." Jemeryl corrected herself. "She couldn't have returned it to him."

Tevi's head shot up, an idea had just occurred to her. "Perhaps Aris did take the chalice. The only thing we know for certain is that it went from Storenseg. There's no evidence it ever got to Ekranos. It might be buried with Aris for all we know."

"It's possible." Jemeryl conceded the point. "But I've got this gut feeling it's here. We need proof, which is where cross-referencing the import list will be useful."

The sounds from the square were rising; voices and laughter getting louder as the sun dropped towards the horizon and a breeze stirred the warm air. Jemeryl left her chair and went to stand by the window, putting her arm around Tevi's waist. The oblique sunlight of early evening dusted the square with yellow. The first small groups were starting to congregate on the benches set in front of the tavern. Distant flocks of seagulls circled above returning fishing boats in the harbour.

Jemeryl rested her head against Tevi's. "It's going to be difficult getting the access I need to the dispensary. The trouble is I'm not senior enough. I wish Iralin had been sent to investigate here."

"She couldn't be allowed to."

"Why not?"

"Iralin must be under suspicion herself."

"Don't be silly."

"I'm not. Surely, you must have realised that since Iralin knew all about Lorimal to start with, she's right up with the rest of the suspects. The Guardian said the three seniors were going to investigate in Lyremouth. I bet they started by investigating each other. The last thing any two would want is to let the third one out of their sight."

"You may be right." Jemeryl gave a sigh. She pulled Tevi down from her seat on the window ledge and hugged her tightly. "Come on, it's cooling down outside. Let's go for a walk before dinner."

Arm in arm the pair of them left the room.

*****

Jemeryl awoke in the middle of the night. In deference to the heat, the shutters and windows were open, but the weather had changed. She could hear a light rain falling, the rustle of drizzle hitting the leaves of trees, a rare occurrence in the Ekranos summer. The soft sound was carried on a current of fresh, sweet air.

The light was just sufficient for Jemeryl to see the woman lying beside her. Tevi's face was relaxed and artless in sleep. Strands of dark hair fell across her cheek. One arm was flung over the covers. Her soft even breathing made an undertone to the rainfall. Jemeryl felt as if her insides melting at the sight of her lover, into a soft gooey mess with a small hot fire at the core.

Jemeryl resisted the temptation to wake Tevi and instead rolled onto her back, listening to the pattering of water. Restless thoughts pushed sleep away. Tevi's comment about the seniors in Lyremouth not trusting each other was an obvious point that had not occurred to her before. In her mind, Iralin personified the integrity of the Coven, but of course, Tevi was right. The world Jemeryl knew was out of kilter. She shook her head at her own naiveté; maybe if she were a bit more cynical she might make better progress.

Despite all she had learned, she still had no evidence, let alone proof, implicating anyone. Jemeryl knew she was pinning a lot on the dispensary records. Not that she thought the renegade sorcerer would have boldly booked out large amounts of the drug in their own name. An unaccountable shortfall was all she hoped for, but it would confirm her belief that the traitor she sought was in Ekranos and working on the forbidden spell.

It wasn't going to be easy. Jemeryl stared into the darkness, contemplating her chances. Although sorcerers scrupulously booked out drugs from the dispensary, it was not wise to rely on data collated by Orrago. And, even if the records were in immaculate order, there was no hope she'd be allowed to peruse them at her leisure. Sneaking in after dark would be risky, but possibly the only option.

A harder belt of rain hit the window. The rhythm of Tevi's breathing faltered for a second, then resumed with a sound halfway between a cough and a snore. Jemeryl sighed and adjusted her pillow. She was about to attempt a return to sleep when a flash of inspiration struck her. It was the beginnings of a plan - one that would take a degree of luck but might just work.

A grin crossed Jemeryl's face. Her scheme contained no serious risk, and even a degree of entertainment - she was sure Bramell's face would be a picture. Jemeryl rolled onto her side once more and snuggled against Tevi, pulling the trailing arm around her tightly. The fine detail could wait until morning. She had the basic plan.

Chapter 6: The Dispensary

It was nearly time for the library to close. Jemeryl wandered from room to room, trailing a hand along the book spines. She was supposedly there to find a work recommended by Neame, but was actually expending more effort in brooding on her lack of progress in gaining access to the dispensary records. From the start, she had known her plan would require a combination of luck and timing. Over the previous six days, she had put a lot of effort and ingenuity into manipulating events, without success. Her manoeuvrings had led to nothing.

The aimless drifting took Jemeryl to the balcony overlooking the main hall. Nearly everyone had departed from the upper floors. Only a pair of apprentices was visible, gossiping inside the room directly opposite, and a lone set of footsteps echoed from above.

Jemeryl rested her arms on the rail and gazed down on the central body of the hall. There also, the library was virtually deserted. Rows of bookshelves stretched across the black and white mosaic floor. The number of people visible between the shelves could be counted on the fingers of one hand. Abruptly, Jemeryl froze, arrested by the sight of the very situation she had been trying to contrive.

Bramell was sitting at a side table, running his finger down the pages of a ledger, clearly engaged in his favourite pastime of checking records. Slightly behind him stood Moragar. From what Jemeryl could judge, given the acute angle, the librarian was looking politely peeved. He was obviously unappreciative of the principal's intrusion into the library affairs. Not twenty feet away, Vine was flipping through the pages of a book. The young sorcerer stood in an aisle between two tall shelves. She was completely obscured from sight of the other two, but not out of earshot.

There was no time to waste. Jemeryl scuttled to the spiral stairway as quickly as possible without attracting attention. On the ground floor, she slipped around the edge of the hall so as to approach Vine from the direction away from Bramell. One by one, she passed the deserted aisles.

She reached the final row. Vine had not moved. Hopefully Bramell was also still in his seat, but Jemeryl dare not peer around the last bookcase and check. Jemeryl slowed the pace of her steps to a sullen prowl and sauntered into the aisle. A few nagging doubts made a late bid for attention, and were summarily dismissed - now was not the time to worry about the chances of success. Jemeryl launched into her plan, the first part of which involved assuming a demeanour of angry irritation.

Vine glanced up. The smile of greeting changed to a frown as she registered Jemeryl's expression. "What's wrong? Is something bothering you?"

"Orrago." Jemeryl snapped out her answer at the maximum volume permissible in the library. "The dispensary is a complete pigsty."

"It's not that bad."

"No, it's worse." Jemeryl said firmly. "Pigs would be more organised."

"But it's not your problem." Vine's voice had dropped to a warning hiss.

Jemeryl ignored the hint. "It is my problem when I've wasted over an hour learning we're out of the very thing I want. Of course, I feel sorry for Orrago, but the state of the dispensary is beyond a joke. Which idiot had the idea of putting her in charge of the dispensary? I hope if I ever turn senile they'll have the courtesy to hide me somewhere where I won't be an embarrassment."

Vine had already glanced anxiously once or twice in Bramell's presumed direction. With her hands, she made a damping down gesture and said pointedly, "You don't really mean that about Orrago."

"You're right. It's not Orrago's fault. Bramell's the one who needs a good kicking. Orrago doesn't know what day it is. But I don't understand Bramell; he's usually so keen to stick his nose into other people's business. Surely he could get off his arse and organise someone to sort it out? He's supposed to be good at ensuring things are organised into neat little rows - nobody can be useless at everything."

Vine was now making frantic gestures, while attempting to point through the bookcase and mouthing Bramell's name.

Jemeryl acted as if she hadn't recognised the gesture. If anything, she raised her voice. "I suppose you can't expect someone of Bramell's ability to understand the importance of having the compounds we need. Perhaps it's deliberate. Perhaps he hopes if no one else can get the drugs they want, it won't be so obvious that he needs three attempts to guess the name of a buttercup."

Vine opened her mouth, although all that came out was a faint squeak.

Jemeryl's tone became even more derisory. "I've always thought Bramell was a waste of space. It's not as if it requires any intelligence or initiative on his part. He just needs to delegate someone to help Orrago out. The state of the dispensary is a total disgrace."

"And that is a disgraceful way to refer to senior members of this school." Bramell's voice rung out from the far end of the aisle.

It took considerable effort for Jemeryl to stop the relief showing on her face. She had been starting to fear that Bramell was no longer in the vicinity. Her eyes dropped to the floor while she composed her expression into one of shocked dismay - and almost lost it again when, out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Vine's pitying look.

"Jemeryl." Bramell snapped.

Slowly Jemeryl turned to face the furious principal. He stood at the end of the row of books, shoulders thrown back, eyes blazing and shaking with outrage.

"Er... yes sir?" Jemeryl said, hesitantly.

"What were you saying?"

"Nothing, sir."

"Nothing?" Bramell voice cracked like a whip.

"No, sir."

"Well, I heard quite a bit of your nothing. I think we should go my office and discuss this nothing in more detail." Bramell's voice could have cut through glass.

Jemeryl was unceremoniously marched across the main quad, watched by various surprised parties. Bramell's manner was such Jemeryl half expected him to take hold of her by the ear. She felt a rising indignation - after all, she was an amulet-wearing sorcerer not an unruly apprentice. It wasn't as if Coven rules forbade her from having, or expressing, an opinion about her seniors.

Bramell strode to the door to his office and held it open. Jemeryl entered and stopped on the rug in the middle of the floor. She looked down at her feet - she was quite literally on the carpet. The door shut with a firm, deliberate clunk and Bramell slowly walked around the desk to take his seat. His eyes fixed her with a frosty stare; his lips were set firm in righteous condemnation; even his nostrils were flaring.

The silence stretched out for what seemed like ages. Even though it was part of her plan Jemeryl felt her stomach knot.

Eventually Bramell took a deep breath. "Now. Perhaps you would like to explain exactly what you meant?"

*****

It was an hour before Jemeryl left Bramell's office, her ears ringing and with a very clear understanding of Bramell's assessment of her. He had also used the opportunity to include the anticipated lecture on relationships with the ungifted. On his words of dismissal, she fled the office and raced across the main square heading for her room.

Since Vine had been a witness to the incident, it was a safe bet that half the school would already know what had happened. Those who saw her running away from Bramell's office might well interpret it as distress on her part, and assume she was seeking somewhere to cry in private. Jemeryl wasn't about to correct the misconception.

She leapt up the stairs of the residence block, burst into the study and dived into her bedroom. Jemeryl slammed the door shut and leaned against it. At last, she could give vent to her elation. Both fists punched the air. Bramell was so predictable, once you got the measure of the man. She had been sentenced to spend all her free time tiding the dispensary.

*****

The dull beat of waves vied with the incessant trill of grasshoppers in the darkness. Moths fluttered on soft wings through the warm air. Jemeryl and Vine walked side by side on their way back from the hospital wards, comparing notes on the day's gossip; who had said what about whom and why. It could be fun. Vine had been right about the incestuous nature of life in the school.

At the point where a side path led up to the dispensary Jemeryl broke off the conversation. "I'm going to put in a bit more work on the tidying."

"Didn't you hear Jan say he's perfected his recipe for mulled wine? There's going to be a group of us trying it out - aren't you coming?" Vine remonstrated.

"I know it's a shame to miss the wine, but I really want to push on with the job."

"You know, no matter how much enthusiasm you show, it's going to be a while before you'll be a serious candidate for the post of 'Bramell's favourite junior'."

"It's not to impress Bramell."

"Then why are you so keen?"

"I'm hoping another hour or so will see the whole thing finished."

"It's taken you long enough."

"The best part of a month." Jemeryl agreed with a heartfelt sigh. The work had exceeded her most pessimistic prediction.

"And you haven't been able to see much of your young mercenary. She might have forgotten you..." Vine stopped. "Oh, of course! You've got a free afternoon tomorrow. That's why you're so keen to get the job finished tonight. Well, I won't keep you."

Jemeryl had walked a few yards when Vine hailed her again.

"Oh, and Jem."

"Yes?"

"If ever you want to do something like that again, let me know in advance - I could have sold tickets." Vine was joking, and clearly had no idea of just how deliberate the whole scene had been on Jemeryl's part. She departed in search of the mulled wine.

Jemeryl walked the short distance to the dispensary alone, smiling at the irony. It was quite comforting. If Vine did not know that she had ulterior motives, it was a safe bet no one else did either. However Vine had been quite right on the reason behind her determination to finish the job that night. Jemeryl was missing her lover with a painful intensity. She did not think she could bear it if she did not see Tevi on the following day. It was not just about making love. She wanted to see Tevi's face, hold her hand, hear her voice and talk to her - although, of course, making love as well would be pretty good.

Jemeryl's polite call announcing her presence was met with silence. Orrago was not around. This was also comforting - the work would go quicker without interruptions. In the light of a conjured globe Jemeryl stood and looked at the dispensary with satisfaction. The packing cases were gone. Jars stood on shelves in orderly rows, arranged alphabetically by section, each clearly marked with a large new label. Neat bunches of herbs hung from racks suspended from the ceiling. The surfaces were clear. Of the previous disorder, there remained only a pile of battered boxes, balanced on the top of one tall cupboard.

Jemeryl picked up the inventory and flipped open the pages. In the course of tidying and organising, she had performed a full audit. There was still a significant quantity of the nectar to be accounted for. But it's too soon to be certain, Jemeryl told herself, casting a critical eye at the last few boxes. There could be several gallons of the stuff up there for all I know.

The first box dislodged itself from its perch and floated across to where Jemeryl waited. Dust arose in a thick cloud when the top was flipped open. Inside were a jumble of stained, half-empty bags and grimy bottles. Grimacing slightly, Jemeryl pulled out the first of the contents and set to work.

*****

Time passed quickly. Each box was emptied in turn, with amendments made to the register. Anything not rendered useless by age was added to the appropriate stocks, the rest was discarded. Jemeryl tried to contain her growing excitement. Not until the final item was checked could she be sure.

At last only one large bottle of liquid remained. A thick film of dirt and fluff coated the outside. Its contents showed a translucent pale yellow. Jemeryl lifted it from the box and held it up, squinting to read the faded label. Faintly legible were the words 'garlic oil'. She grinned - her nose could have told her as much.

A new label was written. The bottle was wiped and placed in the correct spot on the shelves. Jemeryl made one last full circuit of the dispensary, looked under benches and behind doors, and checked that no drawer or hidden spot had been overlooked. At last she was certain; the inventory was complete.

Jemeryl leaned against a counter and let the wave of triumph wash over her. During the last two years, someone had pilfered over half the school's supply of the nectar. Her hunch was confirmed - the renegade sorcerer was in Ekranos and working on the forbidden spell.

As a final bonus, with the punishment task complete she would be free to go down to Ekranos tomorrow afternoon and meet with Tevi. Surely, the dispensary was now tidy enough to meet the terms of Bramell's sentence. Or was it?

The floor was treated to a critical examination. Scattered leaves and other debris were strewn about - twigs and scraps of paper, even the remains of a half-chewed worm, undoubtedly a contribution from Frog. A long-handled broom leaned against the wall in a corner. It might be as well to put the finishing touch on the job. She certainly didn't want to give Bramell an excuse to confine her within school grounds for a day longer.

The task of sweeping was half-complete when the door opened and Orrago hobbled in. The elderly sorcerer looked about at the neatly stacked shelves with a delighted, but slightly vacant, smile. Her eyes were wide open like an overawed child. She focused on the young woman with the broom.

"You've done a good job Iralin - or is it Jelimar?"

"It's Jemeryl, ma'am."

"Oh yes, yes, of course." Orrago dug Frog out of a pocket and deposited him on a bench. The toad's bulging eyes blinked wetly in the mage-light. "Anyway, as I was saying, you've done a good job, it was kind of you to volunteer... I needed a little help around the place."

Honesty forced Jemeryl to admit, "Er... I didn't quite volunteer." She was fairly certain the reasons she was working in the dispensary had been explained to Orrago, at least in general terms, but it was scarcely cause for surprise if the ex-principal had forgotten.

"Oh dear, then who was it?"

"Who was what, ma'am?"

"The one who said... who was... oh, you know." Orrago shook her head and wandered off to her chair, muttering, "They can tell me in the morning. You can carry on now."

Jemeryl returned to sweeping. She worked her way around the edge of the room until she reached a low bookcase in a dim corner. It stood an inch or two clear of the wall, which had allowed a good assortment of rubbish to slip down the back and form a thick wedge in the gap at the bottom. Jemeryl grabbed one end of the bookcase and pulled hard, hoping to swing it out and make enough space to get the broom in. Even as she did so, it occurred to her that it might be easier to remove the rubbish by telekinesis. However, the bookcase was not as heavy as she expected and it shuddered forward a few inches. There was a rumble and screech of the wooden feet on the floorboards, but it wasn't loud enough to cover the sound of something dropping.

A second tug shifted the bookcase further from the wall. Jemeryl peered over the top to see what had fallen. Lying on the floor behind the bookcase, amid the general debris, was a thin, hand-written pamphlet. Jemeryl retrieved it and walked over to examine her find in the light of the globe. Neatly printed on the cover were the words 'The prevention of cancerous growths and associated tumours, by Lorimal of the Coven.'

"What is it?" Orrago asked from her chair.

"It's a manuscript." Jemeryl said softly. She had forgotten that Moragar had claimed the pamphlet was lost in the dispensary.

"Oh, that's good."

"I think it's one that's been missing from the library for some time." Jemeryl walked over to the ancient sorcerer and held out the pamphlet. "Do you remember this, ma'am?"

"What is it?"

"A manuscript." Jemeryl repeated.

"Yes. Can you give it back to Druse for me?"

Jemeryl abandoned the pointless attempt to question Orrago and returned to examine the bookcase. A deep horizontal strut, coated in a thick layer of dust, ran across its back about eighteen inches below the top. A disturbance midway along marked the spot where the pamphlet had lodged. There was also a slip of paper, trapped between the strut and the backboard by a dog-eared corner, crumpled where the pamphlet had squashed it down. Jemeryl plucked it free and smoothed the paper flat. It was a receipt from a supplier in town.

The date caught her attention immediately - just under four years old. According to Moragar, it was six years since Lorimal's thesis had been lost in the dispensary. It might have been assumed that the manuscript had slipped down the back of the bookcase and lain undisturbed for all that time, if it had not been for the evidence of the receipt.

The manuscript had been on top of it and so must have arrived at a later date. Jemeryl studied the marks in the dust more carefully. It looked as if the manuscript had been taken and replaced several times. Presumably, on one of those occasions, the receipt had been accidentally pushed down the back as well and become trapped. However it had came about, it proved the manuscript had been put behind the bookcase some years after Moragar had dowsed it to the dispensary.

Jemeryl completed sweeping the floor, bid Orrago goodnight and walked back to her room. The manuscript was held firmly in her hand. Cleaning the dispensary had been a long job, but it had furnished her with evidence that the traitor was in Ekranos, and she had found the stolen manuscript. All in all, it had been most worthwhile.

*****

The distance was lost to a shimmering haze that heralded the approach of high summer. The sun blazed down on the school site, without the faintest shred of cloud to weaken its force. On the upper balcony, the door to the study shared by Jemeryl and Vine was wedged open to allow a faint breeze to circulate. The light streaming in bounced off the worn floorboards and gleamed yellow on the ceiling.

Jemeryl sat on a chair, and rocked forward on its two front legs as she leaned over her desk. She was alone in the room, making use of the break before the midday meal. In front of her, the two copies of Lorimal's report lay open at the beginning. Once again, she thumbed her way through the pages, trying to spot differences between the original and later transcript.

Lorimal's manuscript was scribbled in an irregular, almost childlike, block-letter hand. The lines rose and fell untidily across the page. The paper was yellowing, worn from handling, with the occasional dog-eared corner. By comparison, the transcript was neatly set on crisp white pages, in the classic unvarying letters of magical graphology. That was the only difference. Not a single letter was missing from the copy.

Jemeryl's forehead furrowed in confusion. She had been so sure she would find some significant notes in the margin or a missing appendix on the original - else why bother to take it?

She reached the final page. In the transcribed book, the next chapter moved on to an associated report by another sorcerer. The remaining few pages in the original pamphlet were blank except for a collection of circular stains. Every test Jemeryl could think of showed the paper to be free of concealed writing. The only thing Jemeryl could deduce from them was that Lorimal had used the rear of her manuscript as a tablemat.

She leaned back in her chair, glaring at the light on the ceiling and wondering if she was missing the obvious. Perhaps a different viewpoint was needed. Jemeryl's expression softened; in a few hours she was due to meet Tevi in Ekranos. Talking it over with someone else might help. Jemeryl's gaze drifted back down to the sprawled hand-written lines. She reflected pensively on the image of a young woman, much like herself, who had written the words, and the old woman who had died on Storenseg, and the life in-between.

Her musings were interrupted by the sound of rapid footsteps coming to a halt outside. Jemeryl swivelled, hooking an arm over the back of her chair. A young apprentice was standing at the entrance. He rested a hand on either side of the doorframe and leaned into the room.

"Bramell wants to see you in his office immediately." The boy gave the message with a breezy lilt to his voice. "And he says to bring the book you found in the dispensary with you."

The summons catapulted Jemeryl into a string of half-formed conjectures. Surely, Bramell was not planning fresh ways to keep her and Tevi apart?

"What did..." Jemeryl began.

The messenger was not available for further questioning. Already his footsteps were fading along the veranda. Jemeryl grabbed the book and followed. Whatever the problem, things would not be improved by making Bramell wait. Yet, despite the advisability of haste, she hesitated for a few seconds at the door to his office, daunted by memories of her last visit. Through the solid wood she could detect the rise and fall of voices, but too muffled to distinguish words.

Her cautious knock was answered by Bramell's crisp, autocratic tones. Jemeryl pushed the door open. Bramell was sat behind his desk, with a flush of anger darkening his features. Moragar was also present, standing by the window with his arms crossed and a suborn frown overlaying his normal exuberance. There was obviously a disagreement between the two seniors in progress. Whatever the subject, Jemeryl's entrance put a halt to it. Bramell turned to look at her as if she were something unsavoury that had just crawled into his office.

"You wanted to see me sir?" Jemeryl asked demurely.

"Moragar informs me you're in possession of a book that was improperly removed from the library. Is this true?" Bramell's tone made it clear the question was rhetorical.

"Not by me, sir. I found it in the dispensary while cleaning."

"Why didn't you return it immediately?"

"I only found it last night, sir."

"You should have informed me at once," Moragar joined in the attack, "rather than leaving me to find out at second hand."

"I'm sorry sir. I hadn't realised you'd be so concerned."

"It's my job to be concerned over the books that belong in the library." Moragar now sounded offended as well as annoyed.

Jemeryl bowed her head, while directing silent curses at her study partner. She had no need to guess who the second hand belonged to. Why couldn't Vine mind her own business, for once?

Bramell spoke again. "This book can be left here with me."

"Er... I had intended to borrow it formally next time I went to the library, sir." Jemeryl said.

"I've been told that you already have a perfectly adequate copy."

"It's nice to have the original."

Bramell fixed Jemeryl with a steady gaze. "I don't understand why you want the book at all. Surely it falls outside the bounds of your work at the hospital?"

"It was just something that caught my attention, sir."

"It would be better if you focused on things that are relevant to your studies." There was a long painful silence. "It might also be better if we made more effective use of your talents. Medicine is not your strength. I'll arrange for you to transfer to Levannue's section. She needs assistance with work on charms. Return anything you have out at the moment. You can start by leaving the manuscript with me."

"Yes, sir." Jemeryl put the pamphlet on the table and stood with her eyes fixed on the floor, not trusting them to conceal her resentment.

"Report to Levannue first thing in the morning." Bramell leaned back, steepling his fingers. "That is all, you may go."

Jemeryl stormed back to her study, furious to have lost the manuscript. She threw herself down in her chair and glared through the window. She was certain she had just had an important clue snatched from her hands - if only she could have identified it.

*****

"It's so frustrating. I had the manuscript in my hands this morning - and I lost it."

"There was nothing you could have done." Tevi said reasonably.

"I know. Bramell made certain of that." Jemeryl's voice was pitched low in resentment.

The two women walked in the formal gardens between the Council Hall and main law courts. The river embankment formed a third side. All around, older citizens relaxed in the shade while young children ran squealing and yelping between the flowerbeds. On marble pedestals, the statues of bygone notables remained stonily aloof.

The stroll through the gardens took them to the promenade along the embankment. Jemeryl leaned her shoulder against the rough, ringed bark of a palm tree and looked across the wide estuary of the river Dhaliki as it flowed into the sea. It was low tide. Mud flats glistened in banks, wet and grey. A few small boats plied the deeper channels.

Tevi stood at her shoulder. "Come on Jem. Cheer up. Think of what you've achieved. We know the traitor is here."

"True." Jemeryl did not sound mollified.

"We might even be able to learn something from losing the manuscript."

"Such as?"

"Bramell's attitude. If he's the culprit, he'd be very sensitive about Lorimal and the manuscript. Did he give anything away?"

Tevi looped her arm through Jemeryl's, gently pulling her from the tree. They wandered along the dusty gravel path under the long palm fronds.

Jemeryl gave the matter thought before replying. "I think it points in the way of him being innocent - otherwise he'd have been a lot keener to know why I was interested in Lorimal's work. All he did was divert me away from it - which, to be fair, is what he's supposed to do. Either way, it's going to make the investigation harder. Bramell will be watching me to make sure I stay clear of Lorimal."

"From what you said, he was overzealous."

Jemeryl snorted contemptuously. "That's Bramell for you. It's what the man does best."

"How about Moragar?"

"I'm afraid I was too angry to pay much attention to him. But..." Jemeryl paused.

"Yes?"

"I think he and Bramell were having an argument when I arrived."

"Over the manuscript?"

"That would be the most likely topic. I know Bramell has kept hold of it - perhaps Moragar wanted the original back in the library." Jemeryl looked thoughtful. "Now I think about it, he got very heated when he talked about the manuscript before. If he went as far as to try and argue with Bramell, he must be very keen to get his hands on Lorimal's handiwork."

"But that's only guesswork on your part?"

"Yes." Jemeryl sighed. "And the thing is, I'd have thought Moragar and Bramell were the two people least likely to have hidden the manuscript in the dispensary to start with. Moragar can do whatever he likes with the books in the library, and Bramell has access to much better hiding places. No one can check up on him."

"It might depend on the reason why the book was put there." Tevi pointed out.

"It can't have been simply to keep it from others, else why not destroy it completely?"

While talking, they had reached the end of the gravel path and left the gardens for the main commercial area of town. For a few dozen yards, they walked along a busy street, jostled by the crowds until Jemeryl was tempted to make a show of her sorcerer's amulet to gain some space. Before she snapped, they turned off into a side alley and entered the jumble of footpaths and small courtyards that filled the regions between the main roads in Ekranos.

The alleys were just wide enough for them to continue walking arm in arm. Their footsteps reverberated between the narrow walls. Faint voices drifted down from open windows above but the alleys themselves were deserted. Once the noise of the traffic on the busy thoroughfare behind them had faded, they resumed their conversation.

Jemeryl ran her hand through her hair, as if hoping to untangle her thoughts. "From the evidence of the receipt, we know the book was removed and replaced behind the shelves at least once. I'd guess someone hid it there so they could consult it as often as they liked without drawing attention by continually borrowing it from the library. The book was out of sight behind the shelves but would have been easy to reach, even without resorting to telekinesis."

"Wouldn't Orrago notice someone taking it and putting it back?"

Jemeryl shook her head. "Even if she saw she wouldn't remember long enough to tell anyone, and they probably wouldn't pay attention to her if she did."

"Why would someone need to keep looking at the manuscript?"

"That's a good question. It's a short work. If it was wanted for reference, whoever-it-was could have made their own copy."

"There must be something special about the original." Tevi reasoned.

Jemeryl hoisted her free arm in an exaggerated shrug. "Obviously, but I haven't a clue what. I've read the entire report six times and there's not a word that offers the merest hint of an unlawful use."

"Perhaps the words weren't the important bit. What else was in the original?"

"A wide assortment of stains."

"You can't learn anything from them?"

Jemeryl pulled a face. "Lorimal didn't own a proper tablemat."

Tevi smiled and took a swipe at a large blue fly that was circling her head. "That wasn't quite what I meant. You don't need writing to leave a message, like the tracks of an animal. You can tell where it came from, what it was, where it went."

Jemeryl's feet rooted to the pavement, jerking both her and Tevi to a halt; her eyes fixed unseeing on the distance. Her arms dropped to her sides, slipping free from the link with Tevi. "Oh, of course." she mouthed, under her breath. Oblivious to Tevi's questioning look, she resumed walking along the alley, her face a picture of enlightenment.

"I suppose you will explain eventually." Tevi said in amused exasperation after a minute had passed in silence.

"Sorry. I was thinking it through."

"And...?" Tevi prompted.

"It's to do with finding the chalice. Remember, the elders of the day tried to locate it after Lorimal's death, without success."

"The stains help?"

"Yes... yes, they could." Jemeryl became more animated. "When a person or an object makes a mark, such as a footprint, they leave a resonance in the astral domain."

Tevi's face wrinkled in a frown, "A resonance? You mean a bit like an echo?"

"A bit, though I think of it more as a fine thread linking the maker to the mark. In most cases the bond isn't strong and fades quickly. However, crystalline silver leaves an almost permanent resonance, which is why it can be used for recording purposes. Lorimal had used the last two pages of the manuscript as a tablemat. There were several circular marks, which I bet were made when Lorimal put her chalice down."

"You could follow the thread to the chalice?"

"Not quite that simple. It'd be exhausting, given the distance between here and Storenseg. A sorcerer couldn't track for more than a few minutes at a time without getting a splitting headache. The elemental forces of the ocean would make it like chasing a spider thread in a gale. The search must have taken months, possibly years."

"Which is why they had to keep going back to the manuscript." Tevi said, sharing Jemeryl's excitement.

"Quite."

The two women emerged from a narrow passageway into an open square, dazzling in the full glare of late-afternoon Ekranos sunshine. On the opposite side was the Inn of Singing Birds. Despite the early hour, there were already a few people drinking at shady tables outside. The sight added momentum to Tevi's footsteps; the walking and talking had left her thirsty.

Jemeryl mulled over the evidence. "Our traitor hid the manuscript where they could get to it easily, yet somewhere that wouldn't raise suspicion if it was discovered by chance. It would be assumed the book had slipped behind the bookcase in the general mess. Orrago's dementia provided a cover. No one would blame her or inquire too closely. Except..."

"What?"

"Orrago must be involved somehow. She was the one who borrowed the manuscript from the library in the first place."

"Could someone have forced her?" Tevi asked.

"I don't think so. Even in her present state, she still has full awareness of the upper dimensions, and six years ago, when the manuscript went missing, she had only been retired as principal for a few months. Presumably, she was far more lucid back then. And I can't see her being involved in a conspiracy - certainly not now. She'd be bound to give something away in her rambling."

They reached the tables outside the inn. Tevi slid onto one of the benches and stretched out her legs, more than ready for a long cool drink. While they waited to catch the waiter's eye, Tevi considered the problem. "From what you've said, isn't it possible Orrago borrowed the book and accidentally left it lying in the dispensary. Then someone else saw it, realised it's potential and hid it in the nearest spot."

Jemeryl thought it over. "It's feasible. But Orrago's mind was going. It's unlikely she'd have been doing any research. Even if she was, her main interest had always been contagious diseases. This manuscript was about cancer. There was no reason for her to consult it."

"There may have been nothing rational about it. Her wits were wandering. Perhaps she picked up the book at random."

"It's too big a coincidence that of all the books in the library she took the only one that could give access to Lorimal chalice - and it was seen by someone who knew what the chalice's memory held." Jemeryl shook her head. "I think someone deliberately went looking for the manuscript."

"So what options are there?"

Jemeryl thought for a moment. "Someone forged Orrago's name in the register, knowing she wouldn't be able to swear she hadn't taken the manuscript."

"Is there no way you can check?"

The sight of a waiter appearing in the open tavern doorway diverted attention Tevi's. She was caught by surprise when Jemeryl shouted in excitement. "Yes, there is."

"Pardon?" Tevi said, confused by the tone of triumph rather than the words.

"Remember what I said about the resonance linking a mark to the thing that made it?"

"You can trace the signature to the person who wrote it?"

"Not quite. The resonance itself would have faded years ago, but all the writing in the library is caught in an information web. Since the loan register is in the library, the resonance should have been picked up by the self-perpetuating core spells. The person's identity will still be there. It's probably deeply stratified, but it should be quite straightforward to pull it out. Then I'd just need to use a suitable astral filter to separate the name from aura-synopsis and all that stuff."

"I think you've lost me slightly."

"Sorry. It's hard to explain. But it should work."

Jemeryl was always less coherent when excited. Tevi smiled in resignation. "I'll take your word on it."

"The only problem will be in reconstructing the signer's name."

"Is it difficult?"

"Not really. It's just a bit tricky, and I haven't tried anything like it since I was a junior apprentice. I'll need to practice. Come on."

Without further explanation, Jemeryl grabbed Tevi's hand and yanked her to her feet. She towed the surprised mercenary at speed through the tavern to the inner courtyard and up the stairs. The hectic dash was watched with amusement from the kitchen doorway by two of the inn-staff. In her enthusiasm, Jemeryl paid them no attention, but Tevi spotted the suggestive gesture one waiter made to accompany his whispered comment to the other, obviously making assumptions that were, for once, incorrect.

Jemeryl did not release Tevi's hand until they had burst into their room. The onslaught of activity awoke Klara from her doze in a patch of sun. Her squawk of protest faded into a muttered comment about "some people" - neither received any acknowledgement from Jemeryl; she was too busy rooting around at the bottom of a bag. After a few seconds of scrabbling she stood up and beckoned Tevi over to a chair by the table, triumphantly holding out a pen and paper.

Tevi looked startled. "But I can't write."

"It doesn't matter. Just make a mark. If I can remember the spell I should be able to work out your name."

"You already know it."

"So I'll be able to tell if I've got it right."

There was a certain logic to it. Tevi cautiously took the proffered pen, and rolled it experimentally in her fingers, trying to remember Jemeryl's method of holding the implement. The paper was a scrap torn from the bottom of a larger sheet and covered on one side with a list. Tevi dipped the nib in the ink and made a bold cross in the middle of the blank side.

"Will that do? I could add a couple of squiggles if it will help." Tevi offered.

"That should be fine."

Jemeryl seated herself in the chair and pulled the paper in front of her. Her eyes bored into the tabletop while her fingers wove complex patterns in the air above her head.

Tevi looked on with curiosity, waiting for something spectacular to happen. She thought she could detect a faint sour-sweet smell and a soft bass rumble, almost too low to be heard. In the end, the result was anti-climatic. Jemeryl's expression become steadily more confused and eventually she swore softly and shoved the paper away.

"Didn't it work?" Tevi asked, disappointed at the failure of her first attempt at literacy.

Jemeryl was irritated by her defeat. "Oh, something happened. But it wasn't your name. All I got was 'Strikes-like-lighting'. And what is that suppose to mean?"

"Oh, well... um, it's... my real name. Tevi's just a nickname, but I prefer it. I've never liked Strikes-like-lighting... but it's traditional..." Tevi shrugged apologetically as her words trailed away.

Klara strutted across the table, shaking her beak slowly from side to side. "Isn't it always the same. Just when you think you're getting to know someone, you find out they're not the person you thought."

"Even on the islands no one ever called me Strikes-like-lighting." Tevi explained

"Except your mother." Jemeryl suggested.

"I think she only did it the once - at my naming ceremony."

"I'll call you it, if you want."

"Oh, please don't."

Jemeryl laughed at the horror in Tevi's voice. "Where does the name Tevi come from?"

"It short for Tevirik. In my people's stories she's the armourer for Rangir, goddess of the sea."

"They named you after her?"

"At second hand." Tevi looked downcast. "It's the crabs that got named after her - because of the armour."

"Crabs." Jemeryl grinned, teasing.

"We call them tevies. I got the name when I was three... at my first sword lesson. I was knocked to my knees within seconds. I had one hand on the ground and with the other I was waving the wooden sword above my head, hoping to ward off the next blow. Blaze just stepped back, crossed her arms and said 'I don't know if anyone will ever mistake you for a warrior, but you can do a first class impression of a tevi.' Before then, I think people used to call me Flash - because of the lightning bit, but Tevi was what stuck."

"It's all right, my love." The teasing tone was replaced with gentle affection. "I think Tevi suits you. And it's probably just as well you hadn't mentioned it before. It proved my spell worked. All I have to worry about now is breaking into the library."

"You're going to break in?" Tevi said in alarm.

"I don't want Moragar or anyone else around. Otherwise, I'll attract quite a bit of attention if I start casting spells in the main hall."

"Surely there's a risk?"

"Less than my other option of breaking into Bramell's rooms to get the manuscript back, and then tracing the resonance myself to find out who's got the chalice at the moment." Jemeryl sounded unbothered.

Tevi was not comforted. "I worry about you."

Jemeryl stood and wrapped her arms around Tevi, hugging her tightly. "Don't."

"I can't help it."

Tevi rested her head against Jemeryl's and closed her eyes.

Jemeryl broke the silence. "Come on. I'm thirsty. Let's go and get something to drink."

Once seated outside, with full tankards, they let the subject drop by mutual consent. Jemeryl returned to the confrontation with Bramell. "I know he didn't mean to do me a favour, but I'm pleased he's moved me out of the hospital. Wards and charms are much more my sort of thing, and Levannue's the leading authority in the Protectorate."

"What are charms and wards?"

"Combinations of herbs and things to attract or repel people and animals."

"You find that interesting?" Tevi asked with dry amusement.

"Oh, it is - it's fascinating. For example, you've probably heard that rowan keeps sorcerers away."

"Yes, but I thought it was just superstition. I mean rowan is harmless enough."

"Not quite. If you can perceive it on a psychic plane, it's horrendous stuff." Jemeryl squirmed and took a mouthful of her drink. "It's hard to describe, but if the aura of rowan wood was a smell, it'd be rotten eggs, and if it was a sound, it'd be a tin fork scraped on glass. And the overall effect is worse than either."

"Really?" Tevi said in surprise.

"Yes. It won't force a sorcerer to go away. If I had to, I could put up with it."

"But you'd rather not?"

"Definitely."

Tevi dug out a memory. "Someone told me that people up by the Barrodens make door lintels out of rowan. Are they trying to stop sorcerers visiting?"

"It's more likely for ghouls - if anything they relish rowan even less than us. But it won't work with werewolves. For some perverse reason, they seem to like the stuff. No one knows why. That's what makes the whole area of wards and charms so much more interesting than healing colds and things."

"Perhaps not to ordinary folk." Tevi suggested.

"No point being healthy if you've got a ghoul sitting beside you."

Chapter 7: A Visit to the Library

The lock on the side entrance to the library yielded to a simple spell. As Jemeryl swung the door open, a faint squeal caused her to stop and glanced over her shoulder. The school buildings huddled behind her in the darkness. The moon had long since set and the twitter of insects was muted in the chill hours before dawn. Nothing moved. No lights or voices pierced the night. Jemeryl released the breath she had been holding.

Once inside the building she risked a light-globe. The walls of a long room sprung up around her - a store for furniture needing repair, by the look of it. Jemeryl hurried on through a series of rooms, towards the central hall. Wild shadows leapt around her, jumping between the bookshelves. Darkness receded in front of her, to flow back behind and swallow the rooms she left.

The cavernous central hall was silent when she entered. The dark, brooding space played with her imagination, but Jemeryl could not afford to let it distract her. She did not want to waste time. The location of the entry she wanted had been identified on the previous day. She carried the expired ledger to a desk. The pounding of her heart seemed to echo from the domed roof, lost in darkness above. Writing danced in front of her eyes, taunting her, until Orrago's signature slipped into focus.

All other thoughts were swept from Jemeryl's mind as she concentrated on her spell, weaving the lines of knowledge and time with the essence of paper and ink. The projections of her fingers plucked the nets of the higher dimensions. Before her eyes the image of a name formed - the name she least expected - Orrago.

Jemeryl's shoulders slumped. Confusion and frustration replaced her previous excitement. She stared at the page angrily. There was nothing she could do other than to risk breaking into Bramell's office. She scraped her chair back from the desk, heedless of the loud screech, and reached out to shut the register, treating the page to one last, baleful glare.

"What do you think you're doing?" A clear voice rung out from the darkness.

Jemeryl froze, unmoving, as the sound of sharp footsteps approached the desk. Moragar strode forward into the light. He stopped at her shoulder and looked down at the open register. With a snort, he stepped around the desk, pulled out a second chair and threw himself down. There was a long, taut silence while Moragar's eyes drilled into her. He then leaned forward, still watching her intently.

"I should take you straight to Bramell, but I don't think he'll be much help. So, I'm going to give you a chance to explain to me first. I want you to tell me about Lorimal."

"I was just curious about the book I found, sir." Jemeryl tried to sound guileless.

"I think not." Moragar's finger stretched out and tapped the entry beside Orrago's signature. "Any other book and I might possibly have believed you. But not this one."

"I don't know what you mean." Jemeryl's mouth was dry.

"You're sure about that?"

"Yes, sir."

"Perhaps you might have more to say if I first tell you why I'm interested?"

It sounded like a challenge. Jemeryl nodded cautiously by way of answer.

Moragar sighed. "It's not something I've discussed with anyone else, but I think you might have some answers."

"I'm not..." Jemeryl's voice trailed away, uncertain.

Moragar folded his arms. There was a fierceness in his expression, although, Jemeryl thought, not aimed at her - more as if he was reliving old pains. When he spoke, his voice was soft. "It goes back to Druse, and his death. Just before he died, he called for me. He was very ill, bedridden, but I could tell something else was wrong. There's a section of the library with restricted access - you need Bramell's permission to enter. I'm sure you can guess what sort of books are kept there. What Druse wanted to tell me was that someone had taken advantage of the plague situation to break into the restricted section. The chief librarian has a watch-ward placed on the room, but it was set on the assumption Druse could go and investigate the second the alarm was triggered. Incidentally, that's how I knew you were here, there are watch-wards on all doors. You should have been more careful."

"Yes, sir." Jemeryl felt foolish to have been trapped so easily.

"Druse gave me the keys and sent me to find out if anything had been taken - it turned out to be just one book. Druse thought the person would try to sneak it back. He gave me a more sensitive ward to put in place - one that would let him detect the culprit's identity. As you can imagine, what with plague rampant, I didn't have time to look into it myself. I didn't pay much attention. I assumed one of the apprentices was using the general chaos to play a childish game - very stupid of them, but hardly a priority. I set the watch-ward, and thought no more of it. The one thing I do remember was that the missing book was a history of a sorcerer called Lorimal. Then, two days later, Druse died. When I checked, the book was back in place. Ever since then, I've been wondering. Perhaps Druse confronted whoever it was - maybe he wanted to give them a chance to explain, and perhaps his death wasn't due to the plague." Moragar's normally cheerful voice was cold.

"You think he was murdered?" Jemeryl said, more a statement than a question.

"He wasn't old, or infirm, yet he was the only one to die." Moragar looked steadily at Jemeryl. "You don't seem surprised by the suggestion."

"Of course... it would be appalling, if it were true."

"Yet you have no trouble accepting the idea." Moragar said softly, but pointedly. "Bramell did. He dismissed my suspicions. He said Druse was very ill and may have imagined things, however he took the book about Lorimal out of the library." Moragar tapped his knuckles on the register. "Then I remembered this missing manuscript had been written by her. It all seemed too much of a coincidence - two missing books linked to same person. So, I tried to find out more about Lorimal... I was astonished - do you know there's hardly a word about her in the whole library? More than that, there are even neat little patches were material ought to be. Now you come here from Lyremouth and start trying to dig up information about her." Moragar fixed Jemeryl with a piercing stare. "I want to know what's going on. I want to know who Lorimal was. But, most of all, I want to know if someone murdered Druse."

Moragar had said his bit. He sat back, waiting for Jemeryl to speak. She stared at her hands on the tabletop while her thoughts raced, considering her options. Everything Moragar had said could be a lie, part of a ploy to get her to reveal her hand. Equally, he might be innocent. Unless she went some way to answering his questions, Bramell would be called in, with potentially disastrous complications.

Jemeryl reached a decision. She had to tell him something. It would even be safer to let him know she was not alone in Ekranos, and imply her backup was more substantial than it really was. It was necessary to choose her words very carefully.

"I'm afraid I'm not allowed to tell you much." Jemeryl said slowly.

"A convenient excuse."

"No - there's more to it. Lorimal performed some forbidden research, nearly two hundred years ago. Her work was of such a dangerous nature that virtually all mention of her was removed from the records. However, someone in Ekranos has found out about her and has been trying to repeat her experiments. We were sent here to find out who." That much could be told with reasonable safety. If Moragar were the traitor, he already knew all about Lorimal and, if not, it was no more than the Guardian had told the mercenary guild-master in Lyremouth.

"We?" Moragar queried.

"I wasn't sent alone. But I can't reveal my colleague's names."

"And what were you doing in the library?"

"I came to check whether it was really Orrago who took out the manuscript. I'd thought someone else might have forged her signature. I was wrong. My colleagues are following other trails, hopefully they'll have more luck than me." Jemeryl looked straight at Moragar. "Once we've identified the culprit, I promise we'll try to find out how Druse died. A sorcerer has broken the oath of loyalty to the Coven. We have a traitor on our hands and murder is not too unlikely. You must realise how serious this is, and that I can't say much. You're a suspect yourself - every sorcerer in Ekranos is."

There was a long pause. Eventually Moragar smiled wryly. "Yes, I can see that."

"I'm going have to ask you to trust me."

"That's quite a lot to ask." Moragar was thoughtful. "However you weren't in Ekranos at the time of Druse's death. Wherever you fit into the story, you weren't his murderer. And what you've said about Lorimal fits in with some of my guesswork."

"What are you going to do about me?"

"Nothing, for now. I'll be watching you - and watching my own health. I'll make sure that if anything happens to me Bramell and Neame will find out all about this conversation."

"Thank you." It was the best Jemeryl could have hoped for.

"I know I should go to Bramell, but he couldn't cope with anything this serious. He'd bury his head in the rulebook and refuse to believe you, or insist on taking some inappropriate action. I don't want the guilty to escape. I think someone murdered Druse and I want their head on a platter. I'm not accepting everything you've said without question - I'm not that naïve. But I think leaving you a free hand is the best chance to flush the bastard out." The violence that had been underlying Moragar's words all evening suddenly broke through. Jemeryl did not envy the renegade sorcerer if they fell into the librarian's hands.

"I'll do my best."

Moragar stood and pushed the chair under the table. He waited to one side, clearly intending to escort Jemeryl from the building; however she remained seated. With the need for secrecy gone, there was no harm in asking a few direct questions.

Jemeryl looked at him. "Rather than me try and dig the information out, perhaps you could save time by helping with a few more things."

"Such as?"

"Has anyone else shown an interest in Lorimal over the past eight years or so?"

Moragar rested a hip on the table. "No, you're the first."

"Or information about Walderim?"

Moragar frowned as he searched his memory. "Neame did when she was organising her expedition. Apart from that, a few people have got out books on the flora. If you like I'll scan the records tomorrow and see what crops up."

"Thank you."

"Anything else?"

Jemeryl thought for a moment. "Well... do you know anything about the artificial bird Neame was making. How close it was to completion? Where it is now and who had access to it?"

"Why?" Moragar looked genuinely puzzled.

"A raven was spotted somewhere a raven couldn't have been. I wondered if it was this device instead."

Moragar snorted. "Not if it was mistaken for a raven. It was called a bird because it flew, but it looked more like a four-legged, green octopus with wings. I haven't a clue where it is now - probably sludge in the bottom of a bucket. It never worked. They couldn't sort out the problems with holding solidity when airborne."

Jemeryl covered her face with a hand. The bird's appearance was an obvious point she had not considered before.

"Anything else you want to know?" Moragar asked.

"No. Thank-you." Despondently, Jemeryl got out of the chair and followed the librarian out of the hall.

It was still dark outside, but dawn was not far away. The air was charged with the possibilities of the coming day.

Moragar locked the door and then turned for a last word. "In future, if you want something from the library, ask me. Don't try breaking in."

Jemeryl sighed ruefully. "No, sir."

*****

Jemeryl returned to her study and sat a long time at the desk, trying to order her thoughts. The sky through the window lightened to washed azure. The chaotic piping of birds rose in volume, filling the deserted paths and courtyards of the school with discordant cascades of crystal-clean notes.

Only when the dawn chorus was starting to fade did Jemeryl stand and stretch her arms above her head. The joints in her shoulders cracked. On her desk lay several sheets of paper, covered in notes and untidy diagrams - an attempt to order all she had learned into a coherent framework. She shook her head with a bewildered frown. It appeared to prove that no one could be guilty.

The nearest thing to an easy solution was that Moragar had lied about Druse's death and the golem-bird's appearance. That he had used the confusion due to the plague to send the golem to Storenseg. And that his story was solely to buy time while he made a bolt for the hills, taking both chalice and spell with him.

However, this only raised more questions. Why would Moragar hide the manuscript in the dispensary? Even as assistant librarian, he had free-run of the library. He could have left the manuscript in place and consulted it whenever he wanted, after hours. On top of this, it meant that Neame's presence in Walderim and Aris's death were simply coincidences. Jemeryl was unhappy with the idea. Nor could she forget Moragar's face when he had called for the murderer's head. She would have staked anything that he was telling the truth. Yet, it was impossible to come up with any other even vaguely plausible scenario.

If you accepted Moragar's statement as true, it put Bramell in the clear. It was hard to think of a reason why the principal should break into a library area he controlled access to. And, if the golem didn't work, he had no way to obtain the chalice.

Starting logically, from the beginning, didn't help either. Orrago was the one who borrowed the manuscript. Since it must have been taken to locate the chalice, she must have done that as well - which meant her dementia was a trick. Which in turn meant that Levannue, as her doctor, was either spectacularly inept or involved in a conspiracy.

With the golem-bird discounted, only Aris could have taken the chalice. She had committed suicide through remorse, or possibly been murdered. In the mean time, the decrepit former head had either left her sickbed or persuaded Levannue to both break into the library and murder Druse. Neame must have bought the chalice back to Ekranos, despite the fact she couldn't personally benefit from the chalice, and had merrily handed it over to the other conspirators.

Somehow, it all seemed less than likely.

Jemeryl sighed and rolled her head back to stare at the ceiling. It was too late to return to bed. Soon, people would be rising and she would be off for an early morning rendezvous with Tevi. The timing of the library break-in had been in the hope that the naming spell would provide definite evidence. Then Jemeryl could have collected the warrant from Tevi and returned to the school, ready to present Bramell with her findings, or if the principal was the culprit, to muster the other seniors in the school against him. It was another plan down the drain.

Jemeryl shuffled the papers together and slipped them into the top of a bag that was already packed and waiting by the doorway. After pulling the drawstring tight, the bag was propped back against the wall and Jemeryl stepped out onto the veranda. The air was clean and sharp. The dawn breeze felt chill through the thin cotton of her shirt, but the clear sky held the promise of another hot day. Already, dust hazed the horizon.

The crunch of footsteps on gravel cut through the peace of the courtyard below. Leaning on the wooden balustrade, Jemeryl looked down to see two of the kitchen staff stroll by, lost in murmured conversation on their way to the refectory. Jemeryl watched until the pair disappeared from sight. Her gaze returned to the building opposite. The first rays of the sun struck the ridge of the roof, dusting it with gold. The raucous cries of gulls rose above the fading chorus of the songbirds. From the distance, the hollow clanking of a dropped bucket echoed in the morning stillness.

A door to the left opened and a neighbour emerged, blinking blearily in the daylight. Jemeryl acknowledged the casual wave of greeting and turned to the open door of her own study. The first sounds of movement were coming from Vine's bedroom. Hastily, Jemeryl hoisted her bag over her shoulder and scuttled along the veranda to the stairs at the end. She had no wish to be questioned by Vine.

The doors to the kitchens were open as Jemeryl passed. The warm smell of fresh baking made her halt. She had intended to take breakfast with Tevi, but a second waft, seasoned with the sharp scent of spice changed of mind. On a table just inside the door was a wicker basket, piled high with small cakes. Jemeryl dropped two into the top of her bag to eat on the way into town and took a mouthful from a third. One of the kitchen-staff grinned at her and indicated a pitcher of milk - a good idea, thinking of the dusty ride ahead. Jemeryl poured a mug and drank while looking around the kitchens.

At the far end, the cook was busy at the ovens, dividing his time equally between examining the bread and yelling abuse at his underlings. He hadn't noticed Jemeryl's presence, which was how she preferred it. It would be hard to swallow if confronted by one of the cook's lightning changes in demeanour.

One of the smaller boys was the current target of the cook's rage. "Stop following me around flapping the thing in my face. Put it down over there and I'll pick it up later."

The woman who had pointed out the milk exchanged a smile with Jemeryl. No one was really afraid of the cook's blustering show of temper. Then the expression on Jemeryl's face froze as the significance of the cook's words registered. Put it down over there and I'll pick it up later. It wasn't so much a clue, more a way of solving the problem.

The bustle in the kitchen faded from Jemeryl's eyes as she stood, transfixed, running ideas through her head. Everything tied together - it was almost too easy.

She knew who had Lorimal's chalice.

*****

There was a scattering of customers at the tables outside the Inn of Singing Birds. Some were guests taking their morning meal; others were locals stopping off on their way to work. Tevi was among them. Her head rested on her folded arms, as she dozed in the warmth of the early morning sun, having come straight from a long night shift at the docks. The remains of her breakfast were scattered over the table.

Jemeryl's shadow fell across the sleeping woman. "Good morning, how are you?"

Tevi jerked awake and sat up, stifling a yawn. "Er... morning. I'm fine."

"Been waiting long?" Jemeryl asked. She ducked her head to plant a soft kiss of greeting on Tevi's lips.

"I don't think so, but I've been asleep." Tevi had closed her eyes for the kiss. She opened them and looked at the crumbs apologetically. "I'm afraid I've eaten most of the food. I'm sure the waiter will get more for you."

"Doesn't matter. I ate something on the way down."

Something in the tone alerted Tevi. She shaded her eyes from the sun's rays and examined Jemeryl's face. "What's up?"

"I know who did it."

"The spell with the signature worked?"

"No." Jemeryl grinned at Tevi's confusion.

"It didn't work? But, you've found out..." Tevi shook her head as if to clear it. "Who was it?"

Jemeryl held up a hand. "In good time. First I want to tell you about what happened last night."

"Oh, come on!"

Tevi's agonised cry of protest was ignored. Jemeryl slid onto the opposite bench and launched into a brisk account of the events at the library, including her conversation with Moragar. Her obvious excitement drew curious but discrete looks from surrounding tables. A waiter who came to take the breakfast order was waved away. Notes were dragged from her bag and scattered across the table, supplemented by invisible diagrams drawn in the air. None of it was any more enlightening to Tevi than it had been to Jemeryl earlier.

In the end, Tevi cut into the stream of words. "Look, I don't see where this is going. You seem to be saying that no one could have done it."

"I want you to understand the bewilderment I was feeling."

"All right. I'm bewildered. Now will you tell me who did it?" Tevi pleaded.

"Well, as you can see, it was like an impossible problem - a whole set of impossible problems. Then I overheard a chance remark and everything fell into place."

"And?"

"Don't you want to know what the remark was?" Jemeryl asked, infuriatingly.

"No."

"But it..."

Tevi interrupted, catching hold of Jemeryl's hand. "Please, just tell me who."

Their eyes met. Jemeryl took a deep breath. "Levannue."

"But she was in Lyremouth when the chalice was taken, and..." Tevi released Jemeryl's hand and crossed her arms. "How?"

Jemeryl rested both elbows on the table. Some of the hectic excitement left her voice. "I've been guilty of one big oversight. I was right when I said Levannue couldn't control another sorcerer without their consent, but I didn't give enough weight to Vine's point about dropping defences when you receive psychiatric treatment."

"Didn't you say the effect of entrapment would be obvious to others?" Tevi objected, frowning.

"Yes, it would be. There will be a sudden noticeable personality shift. However, when someone receives treatment, a change in behaviour is exactly what people hope to see. In addition, Orrago is so erratic no one questions her moods. Even so, Levannue can't have her in complete thrall - she would be acting like a listless dummy, especially if Levannue was using an enslaving device."

"You think she has just enough control to make Orrago take the manuscript and hide it?"

Jemeryl nodded. "Something like that."

"It doesn't explain how she got the chalice."

"I'm guessing, but remember Aris was highly neurotic. It's very likely she'd have gone to Levannue for help. There is evidence for a personality shift just before she left for Walderim - Erlam told me Aris was starting to improve, but it could have been that she was showing the effects of Levannue clamping down on her mind. Levannue wouldn't have been able to control Aris directly when she was so far away, but she could have imprinted a set of instructions to be followed when the chance arose."

Tevi thought it through. "And you think Levannue also made Neame bring the chalice back?"

"No. In fact I'm quite certain she didn't." Jemeryl shook her head emphatically. "Neame would never permit Levannue to tinker around with her head. And all the sorcerers in the Coven combined couldn't trap Neame's aura without her consent."

"But I suppose you've worked out how she got the chalice back." Tevi said with a patient smile.

"Of course I have. That was the chance remark I mentioned. And once I'd realised how the chalice was retrieved, everything else was easy." Jemeryl leaned forward. "I'll start at the beginning. I think things happened something like this... when Orrago's dementia became pronounced she went to Levannue for treatment. In the course of probing Orrago's mind, Levannue found out about Lorimal, or maybe Bramell had already given an inadvertent clue and she was able to get more information. However it was, Levannue started to investigate Lorimal. She realised the stains on the manuscript could be used to trace the chalice and so made Orrago take the book and hide it within easy reach. Levannue is always popping into the dispensary to see Orrago. Once she'd traced the chalice to your island, she had the problem of recovering it. I'll bet she talked Bramell into confiscating the golem-bird in the hope it would help her - she'd have had precious little joy asking Neame to borrow it. It must have been quite a blow when she found out the bird wouldn't stay in one piece. Then Neame started planning her trip to Walderim. Erlam said that Aris went because it was suggested that the expedition would help her problems. To me it sounds more like Levannue used her position as doctor to get Aris within range of the chalice." Jemeryl's bag was propped against a leg of the table. She pulled out a sheet of paper and hastily sketched a rough map of Walderim and the Western isles, marking a spot on the mountains above Scathberg. "This was were Aris was. In two days, she could have ridden a raven the 500 miles to your islands and back. She then needed a break to catch up on food and rest, and things like that."

Tevi's forehead furrowed. After a long night with no sleep, she was struggling to see where Jemeryl's reasoning was leading. "We've already worked that out. How did the chalice get back to Levannue?"

Jemeryl merely expanded her map, drawing in the Middle Sea. "Once she'd recuperated, Aris sent the raven off again, but going east this time - to around here." Jemeryl pointed to the area on the map. "I told you Levannue has a Serac accent. The chalice could have been hidden in a suitable spot - I'm sure Levannue could think of somewhere. She let the chalice lie there for a year, waiting to see if there was any reaction to the theft. Once she was happy the alarm hadn't been raised, she went on a short visit to her parents, picked it up and brought it back with her."

Tevi's gaze fixed on the far side of the square as she mulled it over. "Levannue made Aris commit suicide to hide her tracks?"

At the suggestion Jemeryl's smile faded. "I don't think so. At least, I'd like not to think so. Mind-riding a raven for that length of time would be unsettling for anyone. It must have been the last straw for Aris and pushed her over the edge. I don't think it was deliberate on Levannue's part. There was no need. She could easily have scrubbed Aris's memory once she returned. And I don't believe she could be so callous as to murder one of her patients - someone who trusted her. Erlam said that Aris jumped off the top of a tower. Perhaps it wasn't intentional suicide on her part, maybe she still thought she was a raven."

"The suicide was still quite convenient for Levannue." Tevi clearly did not share Jemeryl's faith. "And it must be significant that Druse's death didn't happen until after Levannue was back on her feet after having the plague."

"I suppose so." Jemeryl conceded, after a pause.

"One death might be bad luck; two start to look deliberate. My hypothesis, to add to yours, is that Bramell is too fixed on the rulebook to allow even his partner access to forbidden books. So, once Levannue recovered from the plague, with Bramell ill and Moragar busy, she decided to investigate to see if she could find out anything else that might be of use to her - something to make her work with the chalice easier. When Druse discovered it was Levannue who had broken into the section he probably assumed she was doing something for Bramell, so rather than raise the alarm, he had a private word with her first to ask what was going on. But Levannue didn't want Bramell to find out, so she killed Druse and passed it off as the plague."

Jemeryl sighed. "Maybe. It would tie in. The problem is we don't have a scrap of evidence."

"And I rather suspect, since Bramell and Levannue have been partners for years, that it's going to take a bit more than guesswork to convince him."

"True. It all rests on the supposition Levannue has been entrapping other sorcerers."

"Don't you have any evidence?" Tevi asked.

Jemeryl thought for a while. "It's not conclusive, but there is one incident that supports the idea. It happened when Levannue came to collect Orrago from her private study. Vine and I were also in there, due to a set of circumstances Levannue couldn't have expected. Without any warning, Orrago jumped up and trotted over to open the door, and at that very second Levannue arrived outside. There was no way Orrago should have known Levannue was there."

"It might have been coincidence."

"Except Levannue was shocked. At the time, I assumed it was surprise at the door opening in her face. Plus I was unwell and didn't pay much attention, especially as Levannue started aggressively challenging Vine and me about our right to be there - which could well have been a calculated diversion because she knew she'd given herself away by calling Orrago to her."

"I can't see it persuading Bramell." Tevi said with dry irony.

"I know we don't have enough to put before him, and we don't have much time. Levannue is due to leave Ekranos at the end of this month. She's supposed to be going north to test a new ward, but I'll bet she's planning to flee the Protectorate. If I can't get any definite evidence before then, I'll have to persuade Bramell to use the manuscript to trace the chalice to its current location - and persuading him won't be either easy or fun. Hopefully Levannue is still hanging on to the chalice and didn't destroy it once she'd finished probing its memory."

"Do you think you should keep the Guardian's warrant up at the school, in case you need it in a hurry?"

Jemeryl chewed her lip thoughtfully. "It will be safer with you. If Levannue gets suspicious the first thing she'll do is search my room. If anything happens I'll get a message through to Klara and you can come running. And it might be best to go to Neame first rather than straight to Bramell; she'll be much more receptive to the idea of Levannue as a traitor to the Coven. But hopefully it won't get to a last minute rush. Once I get back to the school, I'm going to start collecting proof. Now I'm working on charms, I'll have plenty of chances to watch Levannue."

"Be very careful. Remember it's likely she's murdered two people already. If anything should happen to you..." Tevi closed her eyes, trying to keep the dread from her voice.

"Nothing will." Jemeryl reached out and caught Tevi's hand.

The two women sat in silence for a while. The sun was now well clear of the rooftops, and glittered brilliantly off the white stone walls. Jemeryl's eyes travelled idly around the square. The euphoria of solving the mystery was fading, melting in the rising heat. She found herself yawning, the result of being awake since the early hours.

Beside her, Tevi's head was also nodding. Jemeryl shook her gently. "Come on. I think I should take you up to bed and make sure you get some sleep."

Klara's beak opened a fraction.

Jemeryl anticipated the magpie, placing a forefinger on her beak. "And you can keep that remark to yourself."

*****

The nauseating stench of rowan permeated the upper dimensions. Jemeryl clenched her teeth and tried to ignore it. She adjusted a set of bone talismans until they formed a perfect circle on the bench. The carved bone tingled under her fingers in a way that was less disagreeable than the rowan, although fundamentally more unsettling. Once the arrangement met with her satisfaction, Jemeryl lit a red wax candle and placed it under the small tripod at the centre of the circle. She stepped back from the bench, futilely trying to wipe traces of the rowan aura from her hands.

"I think it's ready ma'am."

"I'll be over in a minute." Levannue replied from the far side of the room.

While waiting, Jemeryl studied her quarry. Levannue deftly cut open berries and removed black seeds from inside. The long fingers moved with practised skill. The flesh between the knuckles was sunken, but the joints were firm. No redness or blotches marred the skin - old hands, yet still graceful. They matched Levannue's fine-boned features, and her sharp dark eyes and pale lips. Iron-grey hair moulded neatly to her head. The tracery of lines on her skin added texture without sagging. Everything about Levannue conveyed a sense of elegance and dispassionate precision.

Was this a woman who had calmly arranged the deaths of Aris and Druse? A woman who would overthrow the Protectorate for her own ambition? Not for the first time in the previous nine days, Jemeryl shivered at the thought.

Her eyes returned to the candle and talismans. She stared at the small flame, wondering how to get the evidence she needed. One thing was for sure; she dare not let Levannue leave Ekranos - yet, the proposed departure date was getting close. Only another eleven days were left. If nothing more was learned before then, she would have to go Bramell with her suspicions and rely on the authority of the Guardian's warrant to demand further investigations.

"If that's the preparations complete, we can begin the synthesis." Levannue took her place on the other side of the table and reviewed Jemeryl's work.

The elderly sorcerer reached out to adjust the axis of two talismans. Jemeryl nodded, seeing how it improved the balance of forces. Levannue placed a small silver crucible containing the seeds on the tripod. Light from the candle reflected in the polished surface, the flame magnified by the curvature of the bowl. Soon, the bitter scent of the roasting seeds wafted in Jemeryl's direction. A pinch of horsehair was added to the crucible, along with the shavings of rowan bark and a few grains of sea-salt.

Levannue seemed oblivious to the rowan, although Jemeryl knew she was, if anything, more sensitive to the aura than herself. The horsehair crackled as it ignited and writhed in the bottom of the crucible. Wisps of grey smoke spiralled up to be trapped in mid-air by forces radiating from the talismans, turning the fumes back on themselves. As the seconds went by, the smoke thickened into an opaque form, dancing above the crucible.

The candle and tripod were removed, and replaced by a small glass flask. The two sorcerers begun to move the talismans in unison, adjusting the play of forces. The smoke-shape spiralled down, like a vortex, into the flask. Quickly, Levannue pressed a cork stopper in place.

"That went smoothly enough." Levannue said in satisfaction. "I think we can finish for today. Could you tidy up."

It was an order, not a request and Jemeryl hastened to obey. Levannue sat at a nearby desk and began writing. For a while the two worked in silence.

"Excuse me ma'am. Where do these go?" Jemeryl asked.

Levannue looked at the bone talismans in the palm of Jemeryl's hand. She picked a worn leather bag from the top of her desk. "Put them in here first. They then go in my private storage-chest. You'll need this." She snapped a long brass key free from a ring at her belt.

The chest stood on the floor at the back of the room. It was of modest size, barely three feet long, made of solid oak and mounted with thick iron bands. In it were kept items deemed too dangerous to be left lying around. The key rarely left Levannue's belt.

Jemeryl opened the heavy lid and glanced inside cautiously, well able to imagine the sort of items Levannue might need to keep secure. Her face twisted in a shocked grimace. The contents seemed unexceptional to her sight, and very, very deadly to her extended sorcerer senses. She held the talismans at arm's length and let them drop into the chest. Her hand reached for the lid, about to pull it shut, when she froze. Lying at the back, half hidden by a pale blue cloth, was a memory chalice.

Jemeryl glanced over her shoulder. Levannue was engrossed in her work, but she would certainly notice if an attempt were made to probe the chalice. Jemeryl turned back to the chest. The lock was protected by magic. It would be impossible to pick, but there was another option.

She flicked the cord of the leather bag forward so it fouled the lock mechanism - an event that might be construed as an accident if it were discovered. Holding the lid firm, to stop it slamming, Jemeryl let the protruding tang of the lock press down on the cord, squashing it double into the mechanism. No click was heard, and the catch did not engage. Jemeryl stood and stepped away. Only close inspection would show the narrow gap between lid and base.

Levannue accepted the return of the key, without looking up from her notes. "Thank you, Jemeryl."

"Is there anything else, ma'am?"

"No. If you've finished you may go."

"Yes, ma'am."

Jemeryl closed the door behind her and walked down the hallway. It exited onto a small paved courtyard; airless and stifling in the late afternoon, as the flagstones gave back the heat they had absorbed from the scorching midday sun.

Two other doorways opened onto the courtyard. One was the route Levannue would take when she left. The other, Jemeryl knew from experience, was certainly locked, but there was an enclosed porch surrounding it, which would be an ideal hiding place. A stone bench was carved on the inner wall, with gargoyles peering through the armrests. Jemeryl sat and swung her legs up, so they would not be visible from the courtyard.

She did not have long to wait. Soon brisk footsteps tapped across the flagstones, and a thin shadow flitted passed the entrance to the porch. Jemeryl tried to look relaxed, as if merely waiting in the shade for a friend to finish work. The subterfuge was not necessary. The footsteps continued without interruption. Jemeryl peered around corner, just in time to see Levannue's back disappear into the doorway opposite. The last echo of her footsteps faded into silence.

Jemeryl slipped back to the room. She looked around. Levannue's notes were now in a neat pile on the desk, and the chair had been pushed underneath. Otherwise, nothing was changed. The lock on the chest was still fouled by the cord, and the lid opened easily.

The chalice inside had twin S-shaped handles. It was a style typical of two centuries before. Jemeryl sat back on her heels, holding the chalice in her cupped hands. It was scratched, stained and dented - just as if it had been pulled from the sea with a half-drowned sorcerer. To the ungifted eye, it was unremarkable, but beneath its casting the chalice was a tight ball of memories.

Gently, Jemeryl teased them apart, picking at the strands of information. The shadow of a name hung loose, stamped with the original owner's claim to possession. A few deft moves brought it clear and a name fell into view - Lorimal of the Coven.

Jemeryl pumped her fist in triumph. At last, she had evidence even Bramell could not deny and time in hand. The chalice nestled in the crook of Jemeryl's arm while she peered into the chest, wondering what other items of interest she might find. The jumble of forces made it difficult to perceive the contents clearly. The demands it placed on her concentration meant she did not hear the sound of the door opening quietly behind her.

"How dare you!" Levannue's voice rang out, crisp with outrage.

Jemeryl twisted about, nearly loosing her balance. Only an elbow braced against the chest saved her from ending up sprawled on the floor. Levannue stood in the centre of the doorway, arms folded. Two assistant witches peered over her shoulder, enraptured horror and surprise clear on their faces. Levannue's expression was far harder to read.

Jemeryl rose from her awkward crouch and waited in silence as the trio left the doorway and advanced towards her. Levannue strode forward confidently; the other two bustled after her. The witches were clearly taking a huge amount of enjoyment from being scandalised. If they were involved in a conspiracy, it was a wonderful piece of acting on their part. Far more likely that they were naive dupes who Levannue was using to back up her account of events. Having got over her initial surprise, Jemeryl was not worried - the witches testimony could work both ways.

Levannue took the chalice from Jemeryl's hands, and examined it before speaking again. "Are you going to explain this to me, or shall we go straight to Bramell?" Her voice held no trace of fear or doubt.

Jemeryl was momentarily perturbed by Levannue's composure. Then the sight of the chalice reassured her - whatever the plan was, Levannue had miscalculated. Once the evidence was laid before Bramell, the charade would be over. Until then silence was best. Even with the other two as witnesses it would not be safe to mention the Guardian's warrant and run the risk of Levannue getting to Tevi first.

Levannue spoke again. "I wonder if you realise just how much trouble you're in. You've been very stupid."

The malicious edge stung Jemeryl into responding. "I was going to say the same thing to you."

"Impertinence and bravado aren't going to help your case one bit."

"My case!" Jemeryl looked at the older sorcerer incredulously. "Oh, come on. It's too late to play games."

"What do you mean by that?"

"You know what I mean." Jemeryl was starting to feel angry.

"You're talking as if I'm the one in trouble." Levannue spoke as if affronted.

"And you are." Jemeryl snapped back.

"You have the nerve to threaten me!"

"Why did she say that?" one of the witches asked, puzzled.

"She thinks she has something up her sleeve." Levannue sounded triumphant.

"Oooooh." Both witches were thrilled. Levannue must have selected them for their stupidity.

Levannue carried on. "I'm not about to be intimidated by a young fool. I've got an old iron collar around here somewhere."

"Yes, that would be sensible ma'am." "She might try to run away." The witches spoke in unison.

"I won't." Jemeryl said, scornful of the pantomime.

"I'm not going to take chances."

Levannue got awkwardly to her knees and put the chalice in the chest. After turning over a few items at the bottom, she dug out a collar. One of the witches helped her back to her feet. The other shut the lid of the chest, making a point of pushing down firmly with both hands and looking smugly at Jemeryl.

It was demeaning, but there was no point wasting more time by protesting. The collar would not stop her speaking to Bramell and putting an end to the charade. Jemeryl's face showed her contempt, but she made no move to resist. In her mind, she was already planning the forthcoming meeting, and rehearsing her arguments. Only when the collar in Levannue's hands was about to close around her neck was she hit by alarm. There was a sudden awareness that something was terribly wrong. The true nature of the collar was disguised - it certainly was not iron.

Jemeryl opened her mouth to shout but the words never came. The collar snapped shut and a fog descended on her mind. She was caught in a daze. Her thoughts remained clear, but the world seemed lost. Reality slipped through her fingers. The theft of her senses left Jemeryl's mind adrift, with only the bitter knowledge that, after all her promises to Tevi, she had allowed herself to become ensnared.

Chapter 8: Outmanoeuvred

Bramell's study appeared around Jemeryl with no sense of transition. Voices boomed, muffled as if echoing down a long corridor. Jemeryl focused all her attention, trying to force a firm contact with the world. The tendrils of fog slipped a little and Levannue's voice became distinct.

"I've had suspicions for some time. Several things have gone missing since she started in my section."

"I'll send someone to search her room." Bramell's words were out of step with the blurred movement of his lips.

"It might be an idea if I do that. I'd know what I'm looking for."

"Good idea." Bramell's face floated in front of Jemeryl. "Are you still going to say nothing to explain yourself?"

Jemeryl guessed her silence was being taken for sullen resistance. Yet, try as she might, her throat and lips would not obey her.

"She wouldn't answer before, apart from making threats." one of the witches volunteered, from somewhere out of sight.

"Yes, she did. She said Levannue was in big trouble." the other added.

Jemeryl mentally swore at the pair of them. Presumably, they were not part of a conspiracy; else there would have been no need to stage the whole scene in Levannue's room. The three could simply have invented a story from beginning to end. It was far more likely that Levannue had carefully picked them as witnesses based on their lack of brains and ability. Neither had noticed the use of power when Levannue had activated the enslaving device, and neither was giving a second thought to the instantaneous change in behaviour it caused.

"Perhaps she'll be more forthcoming when she's had some time to consider her situation." Bramell's eyes glared through the fog at Jemeryl. "I'll speak to you again tomorrow."

"It might be wise to lock her in one of the quarantine rooms." Levannue suggested.

"Yes. Then we'll be certain where she is." Bramell faded from her field of vision.

Jemeryl raged at his incompetence. Neame would have noticed the fine lines of force, binding her aura, and anyone with half a brain might have suspected something strange was happening. Bramell was too buried in the rulebook to use his own eyes, or his head. Extended senses were wasted on him.

Jemeryl made one last attempt to give some sign of what was going on, but the power of the collar absorbed all her efforts. Someone standing behind her took a firm grip of her arm and towed her from the room. Unable even to control her eyes, the disorienting blur of movement broke her links with the world. Once again, she was swallowed by fog.

*****

Jemeryl sat slumped on one of the narrow bunks in the quarantine room, in a position of enforced inactivity. She had managed to overcome the clouding of her senses, and could now see and hear reasonably clearly, however this merely left her as a passive observer, trapped in her body. The device in the collar bound her on each of the seven dimensions. All attempts to reach Klara and send word to Tevi had failed. She was completely isolated from the magpie; not the faintest trace of the bond remained. Absurdly, the thing that chafed the most was that she could not pace the room to relieve her tension.

There was no comfort to be had from thinking. So far, she had been outmanoeuvred at every point. What was Levannue planning to do next? Before long, surely, people would start to question Jemeryl's apathetic silence. Had Levannue thought of a way to deal with it? What was the full extent of her plans?

There was a noise outside the room. Footsteps halted and a key rattled in the lock. Jemeryl could not raise her head, but out of the corner of her eye, she saw the door open and Levannue's feet enter the room. The door swung shut with a hollow clunk and then a chair's legs scraped against the floorboards as it was pulled into position in front of her. Jemeryl could see no higher than the hands folded in Levannue's lap when the elderly sorcerer sat down. Abruptly, Jemeryl's back jerked straight, forcing her head up. Her eyes met Levannue's. The two of them were alone in the room.

Levannue studied her thoughtfully. "I'm sure you won't be surprised to learn a number of incriminating things were found in your room. I'm officially here to ask you about them, though we both know that would be quite pointless." She gave a humourless smile. "I've had doubts about you for some time, ever since you found the manuscript. You've definitely had your eye on me for the last few days - and I'm not conceited enough to think you've fallen in love with me. Letting you see the chalice was an easy way of getting confirmation. It would have meant nothing to you, unless you'd known about Lorimal - but you swallowed the bait whole."

Jemeryl impotently cursed her own stupidity. Why hadn't she spotted the trap?

Levannue leaned forward. Her expression became more intense. "What I don't understand is why Lyremouth waited so long before sending you. I'd also like to know what sort of resources you have behind you, since I hardly think they'd send you alone. When did you work out I was the one you were after? Who have you told? What are your plans?" She paused. "And you're going to tell me all of that, aren't you?"

It felt as if hands burst into Jemeryl's mind, picking apart her thoughts and digging through the layers of memory. Her life dissolved into formless fragments. She felt lost, like a floating carcass, shredded by the sharp skewers of scavengers. She almost surrendered herself to the invasion, but one anchor held firm - the knowledge that Tevi's life was at stake. Levannue had broken her oath to the Coven and was probably responsible for the deaths of two sorcerers. Surely she would not hesitate a moment to kill an ungifted mercenary and take the warrant if she learned there was no one else to back up Jemeryl's story.

The collar held Jemeryl's aura more surely than chains and shackles would have held her body. She had no way to fight back. Her only option was a shell-like defence, reclaiming her thoughts and pulling her mind shut. She wrapped her being tight within herself.

Levannue drew a sharp breath, either in frustration or anger - Jemeryl did not care. The mode of attack changed. The probing hands became burning claws. Pain exploded inside Jemeryl's head. She would have screamed if she had control of her voice. Yet still, she resisted, clinging to the memory of Tevi and the knowledge of what defeat would mean. She could not retaliate or hide, only endure.

The onslaught continued. It shifted in intensity and focus, forcing Jemeryl to retreat still further. She felt the shattering of bonds holding flesh and spirit together. Pain ceased to be important; life ceased to be important. Her heartbeat faltered, resumed erratic pounding and then stopped again. Her breathing became weak and short. The fight could not continue for much longer. Her body could not survive being severed from her mind. Jemeryl knew death would claim her soon, but even this would be a sort of victory - the dead reveal no secrets.

Suddenly the battle was over. Levannue conceded defeat and withdrew, leaving Jemeryl to re-catch the treads of life. Blood pounded in her ears. White stabs of pain flared behind her eyes as her heartbeat grew strong again. Her arms and legs were numb and tingling. Her lungs burned raw with each gasped breath while nausea gripped her stomach.

Eventually, her body settled and her eyes could refocus on the room. Levannue still sat on her chair. Her face was slightly flushed from the effort.

She scowled at Jemeryl angrily. "So. You are not quite the raw novice you seem. I should have known Lyremouth would send someone able to take care of herself."

It occurred to Jemeryl that this was the highest praise she had ever heard from Levannue, although she was hardly in a condition to feel flattered. The elderly sorcerer left her seat and stalked around the room. Her hand slapped loudly on the tabletop in frustration - the first chink in Levannue's composure. Her nostrils were pinched, flaring slightly as she breathed. Her lips were compressed in a thin line. She stopped at the window and stared out through the bars. Her arms rested on the high ledge.

When eventually she turned back to Jemeryl, her expression was again controlled. "You must be aware that I'm due to leave Ekranos soon. My plans weren't secret. Of course, you'd have tried to stop my departure, which is why I had to pre-empt you. Unfortunately, you haven't told me what I really want to know - do I need to flee tonight, or can I afford to stick to my original schedule? You are no longer a threat. The trouble is, I don't know who else I have to contend with, or how much evidence they have." Levannue raised one eyebrow quizzically. "And you're not going to volunteer the information."

Levannue sat down, tapping her fingertips together. She continued in the manner of someone who was voicing their thoughts aloud. "You've been meeting a mercenary in town on a regular basis. The pretence of being lovers was very good. It had me fooled for quite a while. In reality she must be a go-between, passing your reports onto... whoever. I could try talking to this mercenary. I'm sure she'd be more co-operative than you. However, you're isolated here at the school, whereas she's probably guarded in some way. Would talking to her justify the risk?" Levannue sighed and rubbed her hand across her forehead. "I can manipulate Bramell into keeping things here quiet. He won't be keen on rumours about a sorcerer's disgrace spreading outside the school. If I start stirring things up in town there's no way I could stop your associates learning about this. If they don't yet know I'm the one with the chalice, I don't want to enlighten them by abducting their messenger."

Levannue's eyes bored into Jemeryl. "The last time you met with the mercenary was nine days ago. I'd been suspicious of you ever since you showed so much interest in Lorimal's manuscript, so I took the opportunity to search your room. I didn't find much except for the notebook on your desk. You'd torn out the pages you'd written on, but I was able to read the imprint of the last page. It was intriguing. It confirmed that you were interested in events here three years ago - the chalice was the most likely reason, although I guess there was a faint chance that you were looking into some of Vine's more scandalous gossip. I was able to tell from the temporal decay that you'd written it immediately before leaving for the meeting in Ekranos, and it was clear that, at that time, you had no more suspicions about me than any of the other seniors. So, at your last meeting with the go-between you wouldn't have named me as the culprit. It was a couple of days later that I first noticed you watching me." Levannue paused. "I wonder what it was that you found out in the meantime?"

The pain in Jemeryl's head had eased, but she was still a powerless spectator. There was some comfort that Levannue had wildly overestimated the size of the party the Guardian had sent to catch her - it had caused Levannue to talk herself into leaving Tevi alone. It was just about the only miscalculation Levannue had made, and it wasn't an unreasonable one. It would have been far more sensible for the Guardian to dispatch an extra dozen sorcerers to wait in town as a backup force, instead of one lone ungifted mercenary. Was there really such drastic need of secrecy about Lorimal's spell?

Levannue's other mistake was in believing that Jemeryl had only worked out her guilt after the last meeting with Tevi. Again it was not unreasonable. At the time of leaving her study, Jemeryl had been completely confused as to the identity of the traitor. Levannue was assuming that Jemeryl had discovered something after her return, rather than having a sudden, cook-inspired, insight on the way into Ekranos.

Levannue's fingers tapped on the arm of the chair. "Even if your associates don't have any evidence pointing at me, they aren't going to stand back and let any sorcerer leave Ekranos. I need to take passage out on a ship, but I don't want to risk being apprehended on the gangplank." Her eyes fixed on the ceiling, while she thought. "What I'll do is arrange privately with Bramell to bring my departure forward a few days and manufacture a reason to keep it secret. I'll be well away before your associates in town even know I've gone." Her gaze fell to look at Jemeryl sadly. "However, you present a problem. The disguise on the collar won't stand scrutiny - not when people start wondering why you don't speak. Even if I flee Ekranos tonight, you'd set the pursuit on my tail tomorrow, and I'd like a bit more of a head start. You realise it is nothing personal, but I must have you out of the way."

Levannue stood and pushed the chair back under the small table. She walked back to the bed with a slow deliberate tread. A cold lump formed in the pit of Jemeryl's stomach. Levannue took a twist of paper from a pouch at her waist and emptied the contents into the palm of her hand - two dozen small green berries. Levannue studied them for a moment, then pulled open a pocket on Jemeryl's shirt and poured them in.

"I'm going to leave you now and make myself conspicuous elsewhere. In an hour, someone will bring you dinner. You'll be too upset to eat any. After they have taken the plates away you'll feel compelled to take the berries out of your pocket and eat them. I'm afraid it's a fatal dose. When I 'discover' your body tomorrow, I'll change your collar for an ordinary iron one. It will be assumed you killed yourself rather than face the consequences of your deeds. It won't take much prompting to ensure that Bramell keeps the news of a sorcerer committing suicide as quiet as possible." For a moment Levannue's voice faltered. "I'm really very sorry it has worked out like this. The Coven was wrong to ban Lorimal's work. Perhaps you can now appreciate what it means to me."

Levannue's hands shook as she opened the door. She gave a last sorrowful look back over her shoulder and left. Jemeryl heard the key turn in the lock.

*****

Time dragged by in the cell-like quarantine room. The sun's rays slowly climbed the wall and faded. Jemeryl struggled to throw off the bonds of the collar and gain enough control of her body to make a sign or say a word. Alerting the person who brought the food would be her last chance.

Her dinner arrived on schedule, brought by a rotund, middle aged witch who spared only one disapproving glance for Jemeryl as he dumped the tray on the table. He stomped back across the room and slammed the door shut, as if trying to demonstrate his support for the school authorities by the volume of his actions.

Jemeryl almost gave up in despair, but there was nothing else to divert her thoughts from the fate looming ahead. After a while, the door opened again and the witch returned for the tray. This time Vine squeezed in behind him. She scuttled to Jemeryl's side, dropped to a half-crouch, and attempted to look up into Jemeryl's face.

"Jem, what happened? What did you do? And why?"

Had the situation been less desperate, Jemeryl would have been amused by the unwavering pursuit of gossip. As it was, Vine's curiosity was the only thing that might save her life. If only Vine would act like a sorcerer and use her senses, rather than focus all her attention on trying to gather news.

Using all her knowledge of magic, Jemeryl flung herself at the cage around her aura. She fought for the right to control her own voice, and her own body, desperate to break free of the snare. Seldom in her life had she put so much effort into anything - never with so little result. There was a slight faltering in the rhythm of her breathing. Her lower lip twitched, but there was no sound, no recognisable gesture.

Vine's expression softened, obviously mistaking Jemeryl's response for mute distress. "Jem. Aren't you going to tell me anything?"

The witch spoke. "Don't waste your time. I told you she wasn't talking to anyone. We'll take the plates and go."

Vine's excitement waned. She stood and walked to the table. The puzzlement on her face intensified. "She's not eaten anything."

"Not surprising, when you think of the trouble she's in. I wouldn't have much appetite in her shoes either."

"You'd think she'd eat for consolation."

Even the sour faced witch laughed at that. "You would. Anyway, you've seen her. That's the favour I owed. Now leave her to sulk." He picked up the untouched tray and headed to the door.

Vine was clearly unhappy. She hesitated in the centre of the room and stared at Jemeryl with a confused intensity, as if trying to form a new question in her head. Then her expression changed to one of pique.

"I do think, if you are going to do something outrageous, you could at least give me the inside story." Vine gave Jemeryl one last hurt look and flounced out.

The door shut with a final, hollow thud.

The room was as bleak as the first time Jemeryl had seen it, on the night Gewyn had been carried in. Gewyn had walked out, weak but smiling. Jemeryl held no such hopes for herself. Although she had control of her own mind and senses, Levannue held her body in complete subjugation.

From her work in the dispensary, Jemeryl recognised the seeds Levannue had put in her pocket. They would act quickly, with little pain. It would be an easy death. Was it practicality or compassion that had prompted Levannue's choice of poison? Not that it mattered. Already Jemeryl's hand was moving, rising to her chest, like a marionette dancing on the end of a string. Her forefinger slipped into the pocket, digging out the seeds. Her hand continued in its slow advance, to end cupped over her mouth. The seeds had a sweet, scented taste. Her jaws moved, grinding the seeds to pulp. It was a mechanical, cow-like motion. Jemeryl swallowed.

For a long time, nothing happened except that the pattern of the grain on the floorboards became lost in the advancing dusk. Then Jemeryl became aware of numbness in her fingers and toes. The sensation spread up her legs while a range of emotions contended for primacy - anger at her own stupidity, bitterness at defeat by Levannue, guilt that she would not say goodbye to Tevi, and a growing, helpless panic.

Before long, the numbness reached her waist. Sharp spikes leapt up her spine and coiled about her heart. Her chest contracted, squeezing the air from her lungs. A black well opened behind her head, sending tendrils of darkness streaming passed her eyes.

Jemeryl's last sensation was of tumbling backwards into the pit.

*****

The band of mercenaries from the port bundled through the door of the guildhall and gathered inside, loudly discussing plans for the coming night. The cool interior echoed with voices arguing the merits of various taverns. Tevi listened with half an ear. Her next meeting with Jemeryl was not for several days and she was willing to go along with anything the others agreed on.

One of the guild-masters strode through the lobby. Spotting Tevi, he stopped and tapped her on the shoulder. "If you're going to keep pets in your room you should have them under control. In future, your magpie must be kept in a cage."

The sharp tones took Tevi by surprise. "But she's perfectly tame. She usually just sleeps on my shelf when I'm not here."

"Honest, Klara is no trouble at all. She's so clever you'd think she could talk." one of Tevi's roommates backed her up.

"She hasn't been tame or clever today. She nearly frighten the life out of the orderly who went to your room an hour ago - flapping and squawking about the place. Anyway, it's not a request; it's an order. Restrain your pet or we'll review your permission to keep her." The guild-master treated the junior mercenaries to a glare before stalking off through the hall.

Tevi shared a bewildered look with the rest of the group before heading to her room, convinced it had to be a mistake. Her two roommates followed. As soon as she opened the door, Tevi knew the orderly had not been exaggerating. Something was definitely wrong with Klara. Items had been knocked off shelves; feathers littered the room. In fact, as much damage had been done as might be expected from one small magpie. Tevi stepped cautiously into the room followed by the others.

A black and white blur exploded from a corner of the room and threw itself at the window, beating against the thick, blue-green glass. Tevi walked towards the bird slowly, trying to make reassuring noises. Klara stopped her flapping and backed into a corner, cheeping pathetically. At first, it seemed as if the magpie would allow herself to be stroked. The attack came without warning. As Tevi reached out her hand, Klara lunged forward.

Tevi jumped back, staring in astonishment at the spot of blood on her thumb.

One of her roommates peered over her shoulder, his expression mirroring Tevi's own confusion. "What's wrong with her?"

"I don't know. Maybe she's ill." Tevi said, half-heartedly.

"Are you sure it's Klara?"

"Of course, who else could it be?"

"This might be a wild magpie that's come in here and scared Klara away. It's acting like one."

Tevi jolted as if kicked. Without pausing to answer, she dived to the bottom of her bed, and wrenched open the lid of her footlocker. Lying at the bottom was something that looked like a small polishing cloth, innocuous and commonplace. Tevi had been assured any sorcerer would see through the magical glamour, and recognise it for what it was - the Guardian's warrant of authorisation.

Tevi snatched up the cloth, and launched herself towards the door, hurtling passed her surprised colleagues.

"Tevi. What's wrong?" one asked.

"I've got to go."

"Why?"

"Haven't time to explain. I should be back later." Already Tevi was out of the room, running.

One of her roommates followed Tevi into the corridor. He shouted at her retreating figure. "Do you need help? Is it trouble?"

For a second Tevi stopped. "I hope not. By the gods, I hope not." Then she leapt down the stairs and vanished.

The young man looked back through the doorway at the other startled mercenary. "Well, what are you waiting for? Let's go."

The pair of them chased after Tevi.

*****

The library was almost deserted at the late hour. A few globes floated in the dim cavernous space, lighting the aisles between the rows of books. Levannue and Moragar stood in a recessed alcove off the main hall, conferring in low voices.

"But I'm keeping you."

"Oh no. It's been a pleasure."

The trite pleasantries terminated the conversation. Levannue smiled and walked to the exit, a book clasped in her hand. They had been talking for half an hour, and she could not remember a word they had said.

She paused at the door and stared across the school's main square. The last traces of pink had left the eastern sky. Overhead, the deep blue was speckled with bright stars. By now, Jemeryl would be unconscious. The end could not be far away.

Satisfaction at the success of her plan had worn off, leaving only the stale taste of guilt, souring her mouth and constricting her throat. The corners of Levannue's lips turned down. How had it come to this? At the outset, it had all seemed a game. Somewhere, over the years, things had become serious - deadly serious. It had never been her intention to cause this much harm, to break her oath of loyalty to the Coven so totally. It had crept up on her, step by bitter step.

The quarters she shared with Bramell were nearby. Levannue paced along the path, brooding on the turn of events. There was no way back. It was far too late to change her mind - but what if she had her time again? Levannue shook her head - 'what if' was always a fruitless question.

She tried to focus on happier thoughts - her plans for that evening with Bramell, one of the few remaining occasions she would have with him. The sounds of a disturbance just inside the school gates distracted her. Levannue's footsteps halted at the sight of a young apprentice running towards the seniors' quarters.

Levannue put out a hand to stop the girl. "What's happening?"

The apprentice was out of breath. She gasped, "Ma'am, there's a group of mercenaries at the gates. They want to see Neame or Bramell. It's about Jemeryl. They've got a warrant from the Guardian at Lyremouth."

A lifetime's practise at self-control helped Levannue hide her shock, although her mind seethed in turmoil. The first thing was to buy time. She pointed to the building she had just left. "Neame was entering the library as I came out. You should look there first."

The apprentice rushed off with a word of thanks. Levannue wasted no time in watching her go. It would not take long to discover Neame was not there. She hastened to the seniors' quarters. At the doorway, she spared a brief glance back across the quad. Three figures were just discernible, standing in dark forecourt before the gates. Levannue disappeared into the building before she was herself seen.

Surely, it was impossible for Jemeryl to have passed the word out? Which meant, even more worryingly, that her associates outside had been able to penetrate the school defences and learn of what had happened. Levannue fought against her rising panic. She had strengthened the shields around the school to block everything. She would have staked her life that no message had got in or out. Levannue's expression wavered - her life was quite literally at stake. She could not begin to guess what sort of power Jemeryl's associates had to scry inside the school shields. It had not been achieved by force - she would have felt it if the shields had been broken down. It was the unknown subtlety that was frightening, or, more basically, the unknown.

What little hope Levannue held for escape rested with speed. The three mercenaries at the gate could only be the messengers. Other, more formidable, powers would be lying in wait. Levannue prayed they had not thought to guard the small rear exit from the school.

Levannue arrived in her quarters. Two small bags were stashed at the rear of a cupboard. One was a dimensional gate, the other a conventional backpack. The latter contained everything she would need on her travels. The gate was for later, when she had re-established herself somewhere. Levannue congratulated herself on the forethought to have prepared the bags in advance.

She hoisted them over her shoulder, grabbed a cloak and was ready to depart. At the doorway, she paused for one last look at the rooms she had shared with Bramell for so many years. Abruptly tears stung her eyes, spurred by dozens of small, barbed memories: their children crawling on the mat, a long midwinter's night in front of the fire with Bramell, the reflected light on the ceiling when she woke on a sunny day. Although leaving had always been inherent in her plans, she was going now because she had no other option. She could not stop herself from wondering if she had lost far more than she would ever gain. She would never see Bramell again, not even to say good-bye.

But there was no time to waste on regrets. Levannue shut the door and fled. Her route slipped behind the junior washrooms and outhouses. It stuck to the shadows and ripples in a sorcerer's multidimensional space. The small gate above the path down the cliff was unbarred. Levannue halted in its shelter, studying the trail intently. She noted each shift in light and balance. Nothing seemed unusual. There was no guard she could detect, nothing to block her way.

On the field behind her, the school building blended into the night. The scene was alive with smells and sounds. It was all so very familiar from the long years since she had come to Ekranos as a young woman. Again, her lips quavered. This was not the way she had wanted to leave. Although perhaps it was for the best - a formal farewell would have been too painful.

Levannue let the gate swing shut and stepped onto the path. The moon was rising over the bay below, high tide no more than an hour away. If she was to have any hope of escape, she had to be gone before the pursuit reached the harbour. Speed was of the essence. Her face hardened - once she was safe she could take time to indulge herself with regrets, if she wished.

Levannue hurried down the path, a dark shadow in the descending night.

*****

Tevi stood impatiently in the forecourt. Behind her, the other two mercenaries shifted from foot to foot anxiously. One of them spoke in a whisper. "What have you got yourself mixed up in, Tevi? And what can we do against these people anyway?"

Tevi did not bother to reply. She walked to the archway that gave access to the main square. Her eyes scoured the darkening pathways for sight of the returning apprentice while her hand thumped in frustration on the brickwork. At last, a figure emerged from a distant doorway and hurried towards them.

As the girl approached her voice lifted to a shout. "I can't find Neame anywhere. Are you sure you can't come back tomorrow morning?"

"No, I can't. I want to see someone in authority. I want to see Jemeryl, and I want to see her now!" Tevi answered angrily as the apprentice came to a sullen halt before her.

"Well, that's just not..."

Tevi's patience snapped. She strode forward, intending to search the school herself if need be.

The apprentice's hand shot out, moving to block Tevi's way. "We don't allow strangers to..."

The sentence was never finished. Tevi swept her arm in a shove that sent the apprentice stumbling to the ground. The other two mercenaries shrunk back into the shadows of the gateway, vainly trying to make themselves invisible. It was madness to treat any member of the Coven like that - even an apprentice. However, the fallen youngster was too surprised to initiate any immediate retaliation.

Tevi marched to the entrance to the main square. She stopped, fists on hips, and bellowed at full volume. "I WANT TO TALK TO SOMEBODY IN AUTHORITY!" Her voice cracked with the force of the shout.

"Will I do." Someone spoke from the entrance to a darkened alleyway. The firmness of the intonation made clear that, despite the words, it was not a question.

Tevi spun around to see a stocky figure emerge into the forecourt. It was a woman in late middle age, with untidy grey hair tied up in a bun at her neck. The new arrival considered the scene with a steady, questioning gaze, taking in Tevi's defiant scowl, the fallen apprentice and the cowering mercenaries by the gatehouse.

"What exactly is going on?" It was a voice that demanded an answer.

The apprentice scrambled to her feet, relief evident on her face. "Oh Neame, ma'am. These mercenaries want to see you. They've got a warrant from Lyremouth." She cast a dubious look in Tevi's direction. "But they are a bit overexcited. Perhaps they should explain what it's about for themselves."

*****

"These accusations are preposterous. You cannot expect me to take them seriously." Bramell was at his most august. His well-modulated tones did nothing to mask his anger.

Tevi was unimpressed. "I'm simply telling you what we've learned."

"What you believe you've learned from all this childish subterfuge. What right did you think you had to act like that?"

"We were obeying the Guardian's orders." Tevi was politely stubborn.

"Preposterous or not, we're going to have to look into it. You can't ignore the warrant." Neame added her support.

Tevi looked at her with gratitude. Bramell thrust his lower lip out petulantly. The three of them were the only ones in the study.

"If what you say is true why didn't Jemeryl tell me it herself?"

"I don't know. Why don't you bring her here and ask her?" Tevi was mastering her impatience with difficulty.

"I will. We can also hear what Levannue has to say." Bramell made his decision. He pulled open the door and called to an assistant waiting outside. "I want to see Jemeryl at once. And could you also find Levannue, and ask her if she could step in here."

The room was quiet while they waited. Tevi looked around at the bare walls. Bramell's study was smaller and plainer than she had expected. Faint sun-bleached outlines on the walls indicated that previous occupants had preferred a little more in the way of ornamentation. The man himself matched Jemeryl's description perfectly. Neame also was true to the portrait Jemeryl had painted, although Tevi sensed a mind at once subtler and more straightforward than she had anticipated.

As the delay dragged on, Bramell grew increasingly irritable. He paced to the window and stared at it, though nothing could be seen in the darkness outside. Turning his back on the night, he resumed his attack on Tevi. "Do you realise how serious your allegations are? Levannue is a senior sorcerer. If this is a joke, you're in for some nasty shocks."

Tevi bit her tongue; she had other concerns on her mind. She had got the impression that Jemeryl was being held near at hand, and was becoming worried at the time it was taking for her to arrive. The assurance Tevi had been given that Jemeryl was safe, even if incarcerated, had gone part way to easing her anxiety, but she would only be happy once she had seen her lover in person.

"Is it possible Jemeryl has duped this mercenary in some way?" Bramell addressed his question to Neame.

"I don't see how. The warrant is undoubtedly genuine." Neame said seriously.

Bramell opened his mouth to speak. His reply was lost in the sound of running footsteps. The door to the study flew open and a young sorcerer burst in. His words were punctuated by deep gasps.

"Please sir. Jemeryl is ill. She seems to have taken something. We couldn't wake her."

*****

The quarantine rooms lay off a narrow corridor, terminated at one end by a window. The other end opened onto a lobby, with offset stairs. Despite the late hour, the hallways were busy. Small groups huddled in all directions. Electrified whispers hissed like waves on a beach. Distant doors banged.

Tevi sat on the floor at the top of the stairs, trying to ignore all the inquisitive looks sent in her direction. Her back was braced against the wall and her eyes were fixed on the door to the room where Jemeryl lay. A little way to her left stood a group of very young apprentices. Their juvenile excitement jarred on Tevi's nerves. Another woman of about Tevi's age, with a sorcerer's black amulet on her wrist, was going from group to group, desperately questioning anyone willing to talk. Most were only too eager. From the description, Tevi guessed it was Vine.

The gossip was eyeing Tevi and obviously preparing to accost her, when the door to the quarantine room opened and Bramell emerged. He strode to the intersection.

Tevi scrambled to her feet. "How is Jemeryl?"

Bramell did not answer. He glared at the other occupants of the hallway. "Will everyone who has no business with the patients leave immediately." His voice crackled with annoyance. Everyone made haste to comply.

Only one small apprentice braved his anger. "Please sir."

"What is it?" Bramell snapped.

"We couldn't find Levannue when we looked. Do you still want to talk to her?"

Bramell's expression barely changed, but it seemed to Tevi that something inside the man crumpled.

The apprentice showed no sign of noticing and carried on speaking timidly. "If you wish, sir, I could go to your rooms and see if she has returned."

"That is not necessary." Bramell's voice was quiet, devoid of its usual confidence.

The apprentice made her escape, running down the now vacant stairs and out through the corridor below.

Bramell stood, looking around without appearing to see anything. His focus was lost beyond the confines of the walls. After a few seconds, he gathered himself and headed for the stairs, but his footsteps were uncertain. There was no trace of the self-assurance he had show in his office. Tevi could have pitied him, except she had her own worries.

As he walked past, she reached out to hold his arm. "How is Jemeryl?" She repeated her question.

"Neame is attending to her. Everything possible is being done." Bramell spoke the bland phrases in a daze.

"Can I see her now?"

"No. You would disturb Neame's work." Bramell looked at Tevi, as if seeing her for the first time that evening. His jaw worked ineffectuality as he tried to summon his composure. "I want you to take a message to the mayor in Ekranos. I've already sent sorcerers to aid the harbour-master. But she..." He stopped, gathering himself before continuing. "Levannue may attempt to escape by other routes. Get the mayor to send messengers to all surrounding towns. Ordinary folk won't be able to stop her, but they might raise the alarm. The Coven will be diverting more resources to the pursuit as soon as possible."

"Two of my guild comrades are waiting outside. They can take the message."

"There's nothing for you to do here. We will take care of Jemeryl." Bramell's voice may have lacked its usual authority, but he would have made no impression on Tevi regardless of how he had spoken.

"My chief guild-master and the Guardian of the Coven both personally assigned me to Jemeryl. I'm staying with her."

Bramell did not bother to argue the point. He turned and walked down the stairs. His footsteps hit each step with the weight of a condemned criminal on the way to the gallows. They faded along the corridor below. A door banged shut, and then there was silence.

Tevi paced the length of the passage. Her eyes stared through the window at the end, haunted by her brief glimpse of Jemeryl's pale face and the cold touch of her skin.

After a long time, she moved away and stopped outside the room where Jemeryl lay. The night air had grown chill but Tevi was unable to leave. The door to another of the other quarantine rooms stood slightly ajar. It was unoccupied, but the two narrow bunks were made. Tevi pulled a blanket from one and returned to the corridor. She again sunk to the floor, opposite Jemeryl's room, and wedged herself into a recess. It might be a long vigil. She wrapped the blanket around her, using one corner to cushion her head from the cold stone, and prepared to wait.

*****

The creak of the door roused Tevi from a light doze. Neame's haggard face peered around the edge. Tevi leapt to her feet, disentangling herself from the blanket. Hours had passed. A faint grey light preceding dawn lay beyond the window. The wind off the sea rustled under the eaves of the roof.

Neame looked exhausted. It was impossible to learn anything from her drawn face.

"How is she?" Tevi forced herself to ask the question.

"She'll be fine." Neame lifted a hand to her forehead and pushed back a stray wisp of grey hair. "Another quarter hour and it would have been a different story." She stood back and beckoned Tevi into the room.

Tevi stumbled passed, crying with relief. She collapsed at the side of the bed.

The covers rose and fell softly with Jemeryl's breathing. Her face was pale but a faint flush caught her cheeks. The pulse at her throat beat steadily. When Tevi caught hold of Jemeryl's hand, the skin felt cool, dry and supple. Stifling a sob, Tevi pressed it against her face.

Neame shuffled to Tevi's side. "I need to sleep. Jemeryl should be alright, but someone should keep an eye on her. I trust you won't mind doing that. If she starts to show signs of distress summon..." Neame waved her hand, searching for a name. "the... the sorcerer on duty downstairs." she finished, pointing vaguely through the floor.

The elderly sorcerer turned to the door. On her way out, she collided with a small table bearing a collar, sheered open. She picked the device up and stared at it with undisguised contempt. "Levannue... Damn her." The collar flew across the room, and struck the far wall. It dropped clattering to the floor.

The door shut behind Neame. Tevi shifted to sit on the edge of the bed. She gently brushed the auburn curls back from Jemeryl's face. The sleeping woman's lips moved slightly. Tevi thought she recognised her own name.

Sleeping curled on the hard floor had left Tevi's legs numb. To ease the stiffness she stood and paced to the small barred window. Dawn was breaking over the sea. Off to the east a pale smudge was cut on the horizon. One bright star hung low in the sky, vying with the growing light.

Tevi left the window and drew a chair across to the bedside. She sat down and again took hold of Jemeryl's hand. At that moment, the simple contact was the most precious thing in Tevi's world. Her eyes fixed on her lover's face.

It was nearly a year and a half since she had left Storenseg. Much had happened. Tevi remembered the young bandit she had killed, and the distress she had felt. Her expression became grim. Now there was someone she wanted to kill. Tevi knew that, when Levannue lay dead before her, there would be no regrets.

Disclaimers: see part 1

Map of the Protectorate

Part Four - The Chalice

Chapter 1: Stinking Dog-Root

Tevi bounced down the steps of the guildhall. She hit a wall of heat. Ekranos was simmering at the height of summer. Sun beat down on her head and shoulders, baking her into the pavement. Shade was at a premium. Tevi set off through the scorched, airless town, keeping to whatever shade she could find.

On a tree-lined avenue, a group of mercenaries were drinking outside a busy tavern. Tevi stopped for an exchange of stale jokes and gossip. Several invited her to stay but the offers were half-hearted. Tevi declined - and pretended not to notice the general relief. She did not let the pained grimace show until after she had turned away.

The noise of the tavern faded behind her as Tevi joined the wide thoroughfare leading to the western gates. The midday heat had reduced the usual crowds to a trickle. Guards, standing in the shadow of the high stone arch, gave a nod of recognition as she passed. Beyond the town, there was nothing to offer protection from the sun, although a breeze blew off the sea, cleansing the air of dust. The road ahead scratched a line across the parched landscape, up to the top of the cliffs. Tevi adopted an easy, mile-eating stride. To the rhythm of her steps, she mused on her current social standing.

During the previous month she had divided her time between school of herbalism and the mercenary guildhall, and had felt an uncomfortable outsider in both. At the school, she was neither a healer nor a patient; she had no place, and was made keenly aware of it by virtually everyone. At best, she was ignored. At worst, reduced to Jemeryl's unwelcome toy.

When grudgingly offered a bed in the servant's dormitory, she had opted to remain in the guildhall. However, this was not as easy as before - as demonstrated by the group at the tavern. The other mercenaries now treated her with strained politeness. Gone were the horseplay and outspoken, crude good-humour. Tevi could not restrain a groan. The others were inhibited by her newly perceived role as a sorcerer's lover - or should the word be partner? She was unsure if the term needed official ratification.

Tevi shook her head, partly to clear the sweat from her eyes and partly to dismiss the troubling thoughts. She paused to catch her breath in the shade of one of the rare stunted trees. Branches fanned out close to the ground, covered with bark that pealed in ragged fibres. Dull olive leaves rattled in the dry wind.

Tevi rested a hand on the twisted trunk and looked down at Ekranos - white walls and black shadows set in a bleached brown landscape. Only the blue sea was unfaded. It threw back the sunlight in sparkling ripples until it blended into a silver plain, meeting the sky. Tevi's eyes rested on the familiar horizon of her childhood, but the sight stirred no memories of Storenseg. Somewhere out there was a woman who had tried to murder Jemeryl. The thought overrode all others.

Tevi resumed her trek. The climb in the heat was draining. She knew she could have made use of Jemeryl's name to borrow a horse from the guildhall. It was something Tevi was unwilling to do, though it was doubtful if it had any effect on her peer's perception of her. Sweat made rivulets down her sides. Her shirt clung to her back. She was cursing her own pride by the time the road levelled out and the walls of the school appeared above the crest of the hill.

The main school entrance was set in ivy-clad walls, guarded by nothing visible to the eyes of the ungifted; yet, there were guards. Tevi shuddered, remembering the way she had first charged in. She was wiser now - Jemeryl had made sure of it.

The school layout had become very familiar to Tevi over the previous month and no one challenged her as she made her way across the site. She reached the small upstairs study to find the door wedged open and Vine sitting alone at her desk. A book lay open in front of her, although the young sorcerer was showing no sign of reading it.

She leapt up eagerly at Tevi's arrival. "Hi. Jem's expecting you. She's outside. I'll show you where."

Vine was one of the rare exceptions who was willing to talk to Tevi as an equal. In her more cynical moments, Tevi wondered if it was because you could not pick up gossip by offending your sources.

"Is there any news of Bramell, or Levannue?" Tevi asked as they walked back along the veranda to the stairs. The best way to deflect Vine's curiosity was to ask your own questions.

"Bramell should have reached Lyremouth but it'll be some time before a message comes back. As for Levannue..." Vine shrugged.

"I heard she'd been seen."

"She was lucky, and she took some risks. She had no choice with the pursuit so close on her trail. It was touch-and-go, but I think she's slipped the net."

"I'd have thought the school defences could have stopped her."

"But she was the one who set them. And nobody here could match her in the sixth dimension. Lyremouth should be able to do better, which is why Bramell went there to help co-ordinate things." Vine explained.

"It must all be awkward for him. Do you think he'll resign?"

"I don't know. When he returns it will be..." Vine's voice faded away. It was obviously an idea that interested her.

They rounded the end of the building. Close by, a low couch was set in the shade of a faded blue canopy. Jemeryl lay sprawled amid piles of cushions with Klara asleep on the headrest.

"You found me then." Jemeryl glanced between them. "Has Vine been quizzing you?"

"Actually, I've been the one asking questions." Tevi suppressed a grin at Jemeryl's almost imperceptible nod of approval.

"Tevi was asking for news of Levannue. I don't suppose Neame has told you anything?"

Vine's casual tone did not hide her eagerness for the merest hint of gossip but, for all her news gathering skills, Tevi suspected she did not pick up on the faint twitch of Jemeryl's eyebrows.

"No. Nobody tells me anything. They're worried about upsetting me."

Vine sighed and directed a frown at Jemeryl. "But then you aren't saying much either. I wish I knew what it was all about. I don't even know what Levannue has done - apart from trying to murder you, of course."

"It must be very trying for you." Jemeryl was more amused than sympathetic. "But you know we can't say anything."

"Come on... a faint clue, a hint? You could do a mime." Vine's plea was met by laughter.

"I thought you were supposed to be studying?" Jemeryl said pointedly.

"All right, I'm going." Vine stalked away with her nose in the air, but the exchange was good-natured. Her pout consisted entirely of self-mockery.

Jemeryl watched her go. "Poor Vine. I think she feels physical pain to know a secret is being withheld from her."

Tevi bent to kiss Jemeryl gently and then sat on the grass. She stretched her legs straight and rested her shoulders against the couch. Her head lay cushioned on Jemeryl's lap. Above her, a sea of ripples chased across the canopy in the breeze. Tevi shifted her focus to the upside-down face. Jemeryl's lips were pale and a yellow tinge stained the whites of her eyes, but health was returning. The skeletal gauntness had left Jemeryl's naturally sharp-boned features. The listless weakness had also gone and today there was an extra glint in her eyes.

"You've learnt something important about Levannue." Tevi stated it as a fact.

"How do you know?"

"By the look on your face when Vine mentioned her name."

Jemeryl sighed and brushed the hair back from Tevi's forehead. "Just don't teach the knack to Vine."

"So are you going to tell me? Has she been caught?"

"No. It's only some guesswork on my part."

Tevi swivelled around to sit cross-legged, facing Jemeryl. "What is it?"

"I've been thinking. They've lost track of Levannue. The only thing we can do is work out where she'll go next and try to get ahead of her. This would be difficult, except we know where she'd claimed her destination was. It was probably the truth. She had no reason to hide it, since she didn't know we were hunting her when she announced her plans, and she wouldn't have wanted to raise an alarm if she didn't arrive when and where expected."

"So we can eliminate that town and narrow down our search to the rest of the world?"

Jemeryl laughed at the ironic tone and raised Tevi's hand to her lips. "It's actually a rather significant piece of information. Levannue was due to stop off at a few other places on the way, but her final destination was a small town called Corrisburn, near where Whitfell Spur joins the Barrodens. It's a plausible place to test out wards. A lot of nasty things live in the high mountains. But, far more significantly, it is only 80 miles from where Lorimal did her original research."

"There's something there she has to get - something Lorimal left behind." Tevi guessed immediately.

"That's one possibility and I'm sure the Guardian will spot it. I've come up with another idea. The name Corrisburn struck a chord when I heard it. Yesterday I remembered why. There's a plant that grows wild in the mountains that's used in various spells. There are half a dozen towns where it's harvested and processed. I think it's relevant that Corrisburn is the source the school uses. I must have written the name down a dozen times while I was tidying the dispensary. I suspect Levannue wants the plant and checked the school records to see where she could get it."

"Surely the closeness to where Lorimal did her work can't be a coincidence." Tevi remonstrated.

"It's not. This plant only grows on the southern slopes of the Barrodens. Elsewhere, you have to get it dried, or in the form of a distilled drug. It's known by a number of local names. The least romantic is 'stinking dog-root', from which I assume its fragrance isn't its greatest charm. Several sorcerers claim that the fresh berries have additional properties that are lost when the plant is processed, but these haven't been thoroughly investigated. To tell the truth, nobody is certain what potential these berries have. It's exactly the sort of thing an ambitious young sorcerer would study, given the chance. Lorimal invented her spell at a time when she had access to the plant growing wild. If fresh berries are used in the spell, it would explain why Levannue had to go the same region to repeat the work."

"You say if. Do you have any firm evidence the plant forms part of the spell?"

"Two things." Jemeryl counted the points on her fingers. "One: Levannue's arrival at the town would have coincided with the fruiting season in early autumn. Two: and this is the clinch, while I was working with her, I noticed she was growing several potted plants under alpine conditions. I went and checked this morning. It's the dog-root."

"So why would she need to go to the Barrodens?"

"They were weak, stunted specimens. It isn't a tropical plant and wouldn't reach its full potency here - probably no more than to confirm the spell would work."

Tevi nodded slowly. "Will the Coven leaders be able to guard the entire area where this plant grows?"

"They may not realise they have to. I don't know if anyone in Lyremouth will realise the significance of the dog-root - we can be certain that Bramell won't. The only ingredient Iralin knew about was the orchid nectar, because Lorimal needed to make special requisitions to get it sent to her. If Lyremouth get their supplies of the dog-root from a different town, they might not make the link. We've got to catch Levannue ourselves." Jemeryl finished resolutely.

"How can we cover the entire mountain range?"

"There's no need. The Barrodens are where the Coven holds its strongest defences. The northern border of the Protectorate has always been prone to attack. Even at quiet times, the Coven has it completely monitored. Levannue won't dare visit any spot on the Barrodens that's controlled by the Coven, since every witch and sorcerer will be on the lookout for her. And there's only one place outside the Protectorate where she can get the dog-root - Horzt. And that's where we'll wait for her."

"It could be another trap of hers."

"I don't think so. Levannue isn't omnipotent; she can make mistakes. Like when she fled that night, rather than challenging you at the gates. She could have overpowered you, taken the warrant and lied to Bramell about it."

"Pretending to flee might be part of her plan."

"No. From what she'd said to me beforehand, I'm sure she assumed you were the messenger for a powerful group of sorcerers who had seen through the school shields. It can't have occurred to her that she had effectively sent the signal herself. My link to Klara had always been very weak through the school shields and Levannue didn't know anything about her. So when she ensnared me with the collar, the bond was completely severed and Klara was just an ordinary magpie again."

Tevi's head dropped. "When she pecked me, I thought you were dead."

"Yes, well, killing me outright would have had the same effect, as far as Klara was concerned."

Jemeryl's light-hearted tone only intensified Tevi's fears. "We don't need to chase her ourselves. We should tell the Guardian where you think Levannue's going - it would be a safer."

"There isn't time to get a message from here to Lyremouth and on to Horzt. We're going to have to move sharply ourselves to be sure of getting there before her."

"What will Neame say?"

Jemeryl shrugged. "She'll say I'm not well enough. So we won't tell her. We'll slip off and leave her a note."

"Might not Neame be right?" Tevi said slowly.

"Levannue has to be stopped. I know I'm not fully recovered but I'm still the strongest worker in the sixth dimension left at Ekranos. Everyone else has been sent out already."

Tevi frowned but said nothing.

Jemeryl studied her expression. "Don't you want to go after Levannue?"

"Oh yes." Tevi took a deep breath. "And it's not just the quest. I'll never forgive that she tried to murder you, but it's going to be dangerous tackling Levannue on our own. Especially if she's just acquired a new weapon."

"It'll come sooner or later. I'm sworn to die defending the Protectorate if need be. A surprise attack before she's managed to master the spell might be my best chance." There was no humour in Jemeryl's voice, but then her grin returned. "Anyway, it's vital that we leave Ekranos soon."

"Why?"

"Probably a sign that I'm getting better - but it's really starting to get to me that they won't let you share my room."

*****

The road cut a diagonal slash that climbed steadily up the side of the gorge,. Two deep ruts marked the passage of carts. Tufts of spiny grass braved the ridge at the centre and fern-like patterns had been scored by rain in the dust. Pines overhung on the left and purple heather clung to the exposed rocks of the cutting. On the other side, the slope dropped so steeply that the tops of tall trees were at eye level with the riders on the road. At one point was a breach caused by the fall of an old pine.

Tevi stopped her horse and looked down through the gap. Far below, the river Danor thundered through the ravine. Her eyes shifted back along the trail. Apart from songbirds, the only sign of movement was the first of the wagons rounding the bend several hundred yards down the road. A second team of horses came into view - huge beasts, making light of the load they pulled. Tevi spurred her own horse forward to rejoin the other two mercenaries in the caravan's vanguard.

After half a mile, the gradient levelled out. The roar of water grew close and then softened. They rounded another bend and abruptly the sides of the valley fell away. Ahead lay a wide basin, hollowed in the mountains. The rim was a circle of wooded slopes, broken by bands of scree, leading up to bare mountaintops.

The three mercenaries reined in their horses on the grass beside the road. The eldest pointed to a tumulus on the far side of the basin. Even at a distance, it was clearly covered with buildings and surrounded by a high stone wall.

"That's Horzt. We'll be there by evening. Beyond is the high pass - if you've changed your mind."

"I haven't." Tevi's voice was soft but obstinate.

"I'm sure the caravan master will have no trouble hiring someone to replace you." The older mercenary said curtly. He indicated a nearly stretch of grass. "We'll stop for one last break. The wagons will be here shortly."

Tevi swung a leg over her horse's rump and dropped to the ground. She walked to the top of a bank to view the scene. Horzt was too distant to make out details; all that could be seen was a confused mound of walls and towers. The river Danor threw a silver loop around the base of the tumulus before winding through swathes of farmland dotted with small hamlets. The water flowed slowly over shingle as it eventually passed the slope where Tevi stood.

The Danor had carved the only wagon route through the Barrodens east of Whitfell Spur. The waterway was navigable as far as Gossenfeld, which was also the boundary of the Protectorate. There, Tevi and Jemeryl had been forced to leave the river-barge. To continue their journey, Tevi had taken a guard's contract on a caravan to Horzt. Part of her salary paid for Jemeryl's place on a wagon. This was necessary since the sorcerer was disguised and even Tevi was using a false name. She suspected Jemeryl was enjoying the game but, personally, she thought it an unnecessary strain.

The wagons began to arrive on the pasture. The creek of axles and the shouts of drivers and crew broke the peace. A few passengers appeared from covered wagons, yawning and stretching cramped muscles. Traders clambered over the loads, pulling on ropes. More wagons arrived and suddenly travellers seemed to spring from everywhere.

Tevi trotted around the perimeter of the site to one of the long covered wagons. She pulled back the awning at the rear. All the passengers had left except for a withered old crone. Ancient eyes, lost in folds of skin, blinked in the light. Etched lips puckered on toothless gums. One knotted hand gripped a walking stick, the other hugged a wicker cage containing a sorry looking magpie.

"Is that you Laniss?" The ancient voice quavered.

"Yes. I've come to help you down Gran." Tevi spoke loudly, as if addressing the deaf.

"Are we there yet?"

"Nearly, you can see Horzt from the roadside."

Tevi assisted the old woman from the wagon and carried the cage to a spot where they could see Horzt and, more importantly, not be overheard.

"Are you sure this disguise is really worth it?" Tevi asked wearily.

"Yes I am." Jemeryl spoke with her own voice. "Levannue may scry the town before she risks showing her face. Even disguised like this, I'll need to keep a low profile, but hopefully all she'll have on you is a name."

"If it's so risky won't she avoid the town altogether?"

"She has no choice if she wants to get the dog-root in quantity. It doesn't grow profusely this far east, and it's usually in inaccessible spots. Levannue isn't young. She's not up to clambering up cliffs and enthralling people won't help her, as they'd be too clumsy to do much apart from fall off."

"Who normally harvests the dog-root?"

"It's too rare for anyone around here to do it commercially. Herdsmen on the high pastures gather the odd sprig if they spot it and trade to the alchemists in Horzt. Which is where Levannue will have to go to buy it in quantity."

The magpie gave a pathetic croak. Tevi held the cage at eye level. "Poor Klara. She's not enjoying this game. I'd be happier without it as well. I'm no good at acting."

A bell sounded behind them; the signal for the midday meal. Tevi's expression was unhappy as they turned to join the queue by the food-wagon. At least the worst of the acting would be over when they reached Hortz and were no longer in such close contact with their fellow travellers. She offered Jemeryl her arm to lean on for the short walk.

"Think of this disguise as a rare opportunity." Jemeryl's voice reverting to the elderly quaver.

"For what?"

"It gives you the chance to work out if you'll still love me when I'm old and wrinkly."

Tevi snorted derisively, but the corners of her mouth twitched in a smile. "I'll let you know."

*****

A rolling blanket of grey hung above Horzt, hiding the mountaintops. Light rain blew in clouds of mist over the city walls. In the narrow streets, sheltered from the fitful wind, rain fell as a persistent drizzle, running down walls and dripping off ledges and lintels. Everywhere smelt sour of damp stone.

The road split just inside the city gates. The lanes fanned out through the packed mass of inns, shops and houses that clung to the sides of the tumulus. Wet cobbles glistened with an oily sheen. Inadequate gutters held small torrents that cascaded over wedged dams of rubbish. More water flowed from the entrances to passageways where worn flights of steps scaled the hillside between featureless walls.

Tevi stood in the shelter of one such alley - not that it offered much protection from the rain. She made another futile attempt to adjust the collar of her militia-issue cloak so the water running off her militia-issue helmet did not drip down her neck, while again cursing the militia authorities for issuing such a poorly devised uniform.

Tevi had joined the militia the day after her arrival in Horzt. Although the town was independent of the Protectorate, well over half its militia bore the red and gold tattoos of the mercenaries. There was even a semi-official guildhall. It was a good disguise and gave her a free hand to examine every traveller who entered town. Yet, nearly a month had passed without sign of Levannue. Jemeryl still spoke confidently but Tevi knew she was starting to question the reasoning that had led them to Horzt.

From the alley, Tevi had clear view of traffic entering the town. She studied each face. The people on the road wisely did their utmost to avoid attracting her attention. She was off-duty but the passers-by were not to know. The Horzt militia were notorious for their ready use of fines, stocks and whipping post. It left Tevi with mixed feelings. She was in favour of lawful behaviour and the militia uniform was a useful cover but she did not enjoy playing the bully.

The cloud begun to break up, although a moist wind still gusted under the gatehouse. The faint outline of the sun floated clear in a brighter patch before dark tendrils obscured it once more. A last burst of rain splattered the cobbles. Tevi ran a thumb along the eye-guard of her helmet to dislodge a row of drips and then froze at the sound of an urgent metallic beat - three taps, a rest, one tap, and then two taps. The sequence repeated.

The helmet made it hard to locate the source of the drumming. Tevi looked left, right and behind her without success. Then she looked up. A rusted iron bar stuck out from the wall a few feet above her head. The drummer, Klara, was perched on it. Raindrops rolling like diamonds off her stark plumage. The magpie's head bobbed, again beating out the signal, but Tevi did not wait for confirmation. She spun around and leapt up the stairway behind her. Puddles filling the hollowed treads splattered explosively under the impact of her feet. The last flight was taken three at a time.

Tevi burst onto the street above and raced along between shops stacked high with barrels and baskets of grain, dried meat and cheese. Only the thinnest band of grey sky snaked above her head between the cantilevered buildings. Civilians melted away from her path. A stout trader stumbled over a box as he flatted himself against a wall. Running militiamen meant trouble.

The streets flew by. Tevi ducked into a crooked alley that twisted behind the backs of shops. Around a bend, she collided with a handcart. The porter mumbled a confused apology. Tevi squeezed between cart and wall. Her cloak scratched on the rough stone and her jerkin became drenched as it wiped along the slippery side of the cart. The material flapped cold against her stomach as she ran on.

Another bend hid the cart from view. Tevi slowed her footsteps to a purposeful, military stride while fighting to steady her breathing. With her best attempt to give the air of a routine patrol, she rounded the last corner and emerged into a small square.

Technically, the open space was more a bent triangle, formed by an offset junction where five roads met. On all sides, tall buildings fenced the flagstones. A drinking fountain, shaped like a lion's head, spewed water into a stone basin at one end. Tevi halted by it and looked up at her destination - the short steep road known as Abrak's Alley. Here, charm sellers, alchemists, healers and witches plied their trade. The shop-fronts seemed to revel in an arcane sleaziness. The gradient was so steep that steps had been cut to one side for the benefit of pedestrians.

Directly facing the road, with an unobstructed view up its length, stood an inn. Its tottering facade bore witness to a history of modification. Tevi resisted the temptation to seek out the window to the room she shared with Jemeryl. Levannue was about. Jemeryl would not be so stupid as to stand where she could be seen, on any plain of existence, normal or otherwise.

Tevi leaned against the wall by the fountain and folded her arms, as if waiting for trouble - a typical militia pose. She glared around the square. A group of drunken barbarians, from the far north-east, quietened instantly. Tevi hardly noticed them. Klara was the object of her search.

The plans had been made and rehearsed over the previous month. Jemeryl dare not let herself be seen, so she would use Klara's coded signals to identify Levannue. A simple physical description was no use, as demonstrated by Jemeryl's own disguise. Levannue could be anyone - the street urchin with gap-tooth grin and filthy clothes, darting between the slower adults; the rich trader sauntering by, with the edge taken off her arrogant swagger by Tevi's attention; the lounging whore whose clothing, or lack of it, left no doubt to his profession. He noticed Tevi watching and smiled coyly; the militia were good customers. Tevi's eyes swept on. Still, Klara did not arrive.

As the minutes passed, it got harder for Tevi not to betray her anxiety. People flowed in and out of the square about her. Already, Levannue might be leaving with her purchase complete. Jemeryl had been sure that Klara would be safe and undetected, but something had gone wrong.

Tevi pushed away from the wall. Her first impulse was to rush into the inn. She forced herself to stop and think. In all honesty, if Levannue had discovered Jemeryl there was nothing an ungifted mercenary could do to help. It was better to be optimistic. Klara's signal meant Jemeryl had spotted Levannue buying dog-root. The place to look was in the alchemists' shops. Maybe Klara was waiting further up the street. Tevi turned her back on the inn and started to climb the uneven cobbles. Her feet adopted the unhurried tread of a militia patrol.

The first alchemist opened on her right. It was a cave-like opening, lined with ramshackle wooden shelves. The walls stretched back into darkness. The ceiling was an upside-down forest where bunches of herbs hung from the rafters. Tevi glanced in. The bandy-legged owner stood, smiling benignly at two potential customers who were examining a small bag. Tevi noted their hawkish features and the dark hair falling in knotted waves over their shoulders. She recognised them as two traders, travelling with a mule train from the eastern reaches. It's one useful thing to do, she told herself, remember who's in the street. Jemeryl will be able to describe Levannue's current appearance so I can identify her later.

Tevi continued the climb. People slid away from her belligerent gaze. A dozen yards further up the street, she passed another alchemists', identical to the first. Only one customer was here, lost in gloom at the rear and further hidden beneath a voluminous grey cloak.

There was an almost imperceptible pause in the rhythm of Tevi's stride. She could have laughed. The customer had to be Levannue; her posture said it all. The whole stance from rigid neck to shuffling feet shouted fear and guilt. If the customs officers of Ekranos ever saw a captain or mate stand like that, they'd have torn the ship apart, plank by plank.

Tevi stopped at the top of the street and looked back. Rooftops fell away before her, stretching down to the city walls. On the fields beyond, over a hundred wagons were camped in a temporary city, doubling the size of Horzt. Tents wove rivers of canvas along muddy trackways. Herds of lumbering carthorses filled the water meadows. Further away still were farmlands and mountains.

Tevi's gaze returned to the street. The woman in grey scurried out of the shop, clutching her purchase. Tevi smiled as she caught a glimpse of the traitor's disguise. Levannue had chosen a face so lacking in distinctive features as to defy description; once seen, instantly forgotten. But the way she moved! Short desperate steps spoke of tension in the knees. Tevi could have picked her out of a crowd at a hundred paces.

Tevi strode after the retreating figure, but hesitated at the entrance to the inn, tormented by the urge to go and check that Jemeryl was okay. The window to their room jutted out just below roof level. The shutters were half-open, as she had left them that morning. Everything appeared normal. Surely, there would be some sign if Jemeryl had been attacked?

Tevi bit her lip. There was no time to lose if she was to keep track of Levannue. After her month in the militia, Tevi knew every alleyway and short cut in Horzt. It would take all this knowledge to keep ahead of Levannue without attracting suspicion, although the anonymity of the militia uniform would help. The sudden appearance of militiamen would never come as a surprise to anyone familiar with Horzt. The militia were expected to be everywhere, asking questions. There were lots of questions Tevi had to ask. She threw one last pleading look at the window before setting off down the hill. The hunt was now on in earnest.

*****

Darkness had fallen by the time Tevi made her way back to the inn. An unbroken sheet of cloud allowed no moonlight to relieve the thick shadows, yet few folk were deterred from venturing forth. Shouts and laughter echoed along the ill-lit streets. They were high points over the continuous chaotic background murmur of Horzt nightlife, the sound of eager people in search of pleasure. At times over the previous month, Tevi had been reminded of Torhaven, especially by night. Horzt was also a frontier town, outside the Protectorate, with a raw edge. However the differences were equally strong and the action on the streets was, if not completely harmless, at least mainly devoid of malice.

Horzt was the first taste of familiar civilisation for those returning from the north. It was also the last that those passing in the other direction would get for months, maybe years, maybe forever. There was always danger in the barbarian outlands. Some would never return to the Protectorate and their bones would rest for all time in a wayside grave.

The caravan masters, traders and guards indulged themselves in Horzt, aided by the sizeable proportion of the local population who made their living from providing a range of services for travellers. As long as the road beyond was passable, the nights in Horzt were one continuous party. The excesses had frequently shocked Tevi. Her month in the militia had seen the end of what little naiveté she had still possessed on her arrival. There was, she reflected, small wonder that the Horzt militia had needed to acquire their reputation.

By now, she was inured to the debauchery and other worries claimed her attention. She reached a quieter street, lined on both sides with the shuttered shop-fronts of tanners and cobblers. The smell of leather vied with the stale beer on passers-by. A straggling group blocked the road and forced Tevi to squeeze her way through. One of them, too lost in drink to register her uniform, shoved her and cursed. It took a few staggered steps before Tevi could regain her balance. She glared at the offender, but her assailant was already being hauled away by his more sober companions to a chorus of nervous apologies.

Tevi let them go. She wanted to get back to the inn and had no wish to waste time on improving the manners of a drunk. All afternoon, while she had followed Levannue's trail through city and camp, Tevi had refused to indulge her fears. She was sure there was nothing sinister in Klara's non-appearance. It was a feeling based largely on Levannue's behaviour. The traitor had not acted like a woman who had just defeated a major adversary. However, each passing minute was now eating away at that confidence. As the inn came into view, Tevi's tension solidified into a knot in her stomach.

Light from the inn's open doorway fell across the square and glinted on water flowing from the lion's mouth. The gentle splashing was incongruous in the decadence of Horzt by night. Tevi paused, absorbing the calming sound, before rough voices erupted in the barroom, drowning out everything else. The racket was intended to be singing, but the raucous cacophony was hardly inviting. Tevi knew it would be a slow job to fight her way through the press of bodies to the stairway at the back, not least because the innkeeper regarded her as his personal police force.

There were other routes to the room she shared with Jemeryl. An alley to the right led to an archway into the inn's tiny inner courtyard. In it could be found empty beer barrels, broken furniture and, more often than not, drunkards, sleeping off their beer. It was not Tevi's favourite way into the inn. The putrid stench of urine lay thicker than the shadows. Tevi tried to hold her breath until she emerged from the archway into the marginally fresher air of the courtyard.

Directly opposite, a rickety external stairway climbed the walls. Its decaying timbers revealed years of neglect. Tevi stood cautiously and listened. Horzt had its share of footpads. Nothing stirred between the dark mounds of trash, except maybe a rat.

As Tevi stepped into the open a small shape detached itself from a darker patch of shadow and sprung at her. Too late Tevi realised it wasn't a rat.

"Laniss. Laniss. I've been waiting for you."

Tevi jumped even as she recognised the shrill voice of Rill, the innkeeper's young daughter. The child was awake, as usual, long past a sensible bedtime for her age. The girl grabbed hold of Tevi's hand and swung back and forth on her heels. This did not throw Tevi off balance, but it effectively prevented her progress.

"Have you been in any fights? Have you killed anyone today?" Rill yipped.

"No. I've told you before, the militia isn't like that. I've hardly drawn my sword since I got here. I just walk around all day and shout." Tevi's patience with the girl had been severely tested on many occasions.

"In winter we could be overrun by bandits. You'd have to fight then. I wish I was grown-up and could join the militia. I am going to join, just as soon as I'm big enough."

Rill's voice screeched in the confined space. She let go of Tevi's hand to practice wild swings with an imaginary sword. Tevi suspected another twenty years would see Rill as an overweight and overcautious barkeeper.

"Is my grandmother all right?" Tevi asked. She skirted around the prancing child and headed for the stairs.

"Oh, she's been asking about you all afternoon." Rill sounded uninterested, but Tevi's heart leapt at the reassurance.

Rill tagged along after Tevi. Her chubby legs made hard work of the first few uneven steps. Tevi sighed. She wished there were some easy way to shake off the jarring hero-worship. However, help was at hand. The kitchen door was flung open. Flickering candlelight played among the dark shadows of the courtyard.

"Rill! Is that you making that noise? Get yourself in here. Haven't I told you..." The innkeeper's angry voice boomed out.

Rill hastily scrambled crab-like back down the stairs. She scuttled quickly passed her father but was only partially successful in her attempt to duck the swipe aimed at her ear. The innkeeper scowled at Tevi and made the barest token effort at a civil nod of acknowledgement before returning to his customers. The door slammed shut behind him.

Darkness reclaimed the courtyard. Then Tevi was aware of a new light falling from above. She looked up. The disturbance had attracted Jemeryl's attention. The sorcerer's disguised form was framed in an open doorway at the top of the stairs.

"Tevi. You're safe. I've been..." Jemeryl was too agitated to use the false name. Fortunately, there was no one to hear.

Tevi did not answer. She leapt the remaining stairs and shepherded Jemeryl back along the corridor and into their room. Once the door was shut, she held Jemeryl tightly, unperturbed by her seventy-year-old appearance, and soaked in relief from the rhythm of Jemeryl's heart thudding against her own.

"What happened? I couldn't see Klara. Did something go wrong?" Tevi asked.

"Levannue had a passive watch-ward set on the sixth dimensional channels. It must have taken her weeks to construct - it's probably why she's so late getting here. It meant I didn't dare let Klara get within 100 yards of her. She'd have spotted the link at once. But what happened to you? I was expecting you to come back here so I could give a description of how Levannue looked. I've been so frightened." Jemeryl's voice shook.

"And I've been worried about you. I'm sorry, I really am. You are alright, aren't you?"

Jemeryl grabbed Tevi's hands and held them to her lips for a second. "Yes, now I know you're safe." She let their hands drop and raised her eyes to meet Tevi's. "What have you been doing? We've got to find Levannue, she was..."

"The utterly non-nondescript middle-aged woman wearing the large grey cloak." Tevi interjected.

"How did you know?"

"By the way she stood. It's something I learned on the docks at Ekranos - how to read someone's posture. I knew it had to be her. She looked so ineptly guilty. She was obviously doing something very wrong but wasn't a professional criminal."

Jemeryl studied Tevi with surprised appreciation, which turned to a broad smile. "So I suppose you've found out where she's staying, when she's leaving, where she intends to go next and what colour underclothes she's wearing?"

"I didn't make any progress on the underclothes, but I got answers for all the rest." Tevi joked back.

She threw herself onto one of the two lumpy mattresses that took up most of the floor space. These constituted the only furniture in the tiny room. The walls were greasy and damp-stained; the woodwork was splintering and bedding was filthy. Even this depressing scene failed to diminish the self-satisfied grin on Tevi's face.

Jemeryl sunk onto the other mattress. "When does Levannue leave Horzt?"

"First light tomorrow, with a caravan bound for Uzhenek."

"That makes sense. She'd leave getting the dog-root until the last possible moment before leaving Horzt. It leaves less time for alarms to be raised."

Tevi frowned. "But why is she going to Uzhenek? Why isn't she returning to the Protectorate?"

"Perhaps she wants more time to master the spell. Or perhaps, even with it, she doesn't think she has the strength to tackle the whole Coven. Maybe her ambitions now lie with claiming an empire outside the bounds of the Protectorate." Jemeryl suggested.

"So what's our next step?"

Jemeryl rested her shoulder against the wall, impervious to the chill of the damp plaster. "I don't want to challenge her in Horzt, even with the hope of getting her before she completes her spell. There are defences against magic built into the walls - wards to counteract anyone tinkering with the higher dimensions. They attempt to nullify spells or turn them back on the caster."

"You mean magic can't be used here? I could have taken Levannue prisoner on my own?" Tevi's voice rose.

"No you couldn't!" Fear for Tevi's safety made Jemeryl's voice sharp. "The wards wouldn't stop a sorcerer. I could blast through them, and so could Levannue."

Tevi swallowed, taken aback by the vehemence of the response. "Oh."

Jemeryl's expression softened. "I just don't want you doing anything stupid. The wards are no more than an inconvenience to sorcerers and some passive types of magic aren't affected, like my bond with Klara and my disguise. Although it only goes unnoticed as long as I don't try to alter it. If Levannue or I were to shape-shift, even by reverting to our true forms, the wards would react. They wouldn't stop us but they would certainly alert the Mayor who monitors the wards. And neither of us want to attract attention at the moment."

"I thought you were just being overcautious in keeping disguised all the time."

Jemeryl laughed and shifted across to the other bed. She scooped up one of Tevi's hands, interlocking their fingers. The back of Jemeryl's hand was uppermost; the swollen red knuckles and blotched skin contrasted with Tevi's smooth fingers. "I can't wait to change back."

Tevi tilted her head to look sideways at her lover and grinned mischievously. "Don't be so hasty. Has no one ever told you wrinkles add character to your face? And I'm not sure if teeth really suit you."

Jemeryl barged Tevi gently with her shoulder. "Thank you!"

Tevi's face became more thoughtful. "If the Mayor controls the wards, perhaps he would help you, if you were to explain the situation to him. I know Horzt prides its independence but I'm prepared to bet he'd rather keep in the Guardian's good books if he could."

"He might help if he were able, but the Mayor has no real control over the wards. They're purely reactive devices built into the foundations of Horzt. They were a gift from a sorcerer long ago. The Mayor has some artefacts that let him interrogate the state of the wards, but as for making them attack someone, or even turning them off..." Jemeryl shook her head. "He can't do a thing. Not that you think it from the way he talks. By all accounts he seems to think he can defend Horzt against anything on his own and doesn't need the Coven's assistance. The wards keep out minor threats, such as basilisks, but it would be stupid to think they can do more."

"Surely the rest of the population know they're at risk?"

"The rest of the population know the Coven won't allow a belligerent sorcerer to start carving out an empire south of the Barrodens whether they pay taxes to Lyremouth or not, and on the whole they prefer not." Jemeryl said dryly.

Shoots and whoops from the square below echoed through the night. Tevi leaned her head back against the wall and grimaced. She would not be sorry to leave Horzt. "I'm still not sure why you don't want to tackle Levannue here. Won't the wards affect her as much as you?"

"It would be dangerous. Remember wards are Levannue's speciality. Even if she can't control them, she'll know what to expect. I'd be the one more vulnerable to surprise and in sorcerer's combat any distraction can be fatal." Jemeryl gave a sharp shake of the head. "No. We'll let Levannue get away from Horzt, and wait until she starts to think she's safe and relaxes her guard."

"What about my contract with the militia?"

"I'm afraid you're going to have to desert."

Tevi frowned. "The guild-masters won't like me breaking contract."

"Your chief guild-master personally assigned you to this quest, which will have to take priority over other tasks you've taken."

"I suppose so, but..."

"If you want, I'll command you to desert. As an ordinary Protectorate citizen you're supposed to obey sorcerers of the Coven."

Tevi could not stop herself tensing. There was nothing condescending in Jemeryl's tone, but it raised uncomfortable issues for Tevi.

Jemeryl must have seen the reaction and realised. She leaned over and kissed Tevi on the lips tenderly. "Don't worry. I wouldn't dream of ordering you around."

"But you could if you wanted."

"Believe me, I never will."

Chapter 2: Prisoner and Escort

The drumming of rain on canvas was loud in the cramped confines of the wagon. Tevi had to adopt a half crouch due to the limited space. She twisted her neck to peer around. The interior was just visible in the grey light of yet another wet dawn. Piles of sacks filled most of the cargo space. The three passengers huddled in whatever niches they could find. Two of them watched Tevi with anxious expressions; the third was in a state far beyond mere anxiety.

Tevi observed Levannue out of the corner of her eye. The renegade sorcerer looked as if her nerves were trying to crawl out of her skin in the effort to sit still. The pulse in her neck was racing visibly and, despite the chill, a fine sheen of sweat glossed her forehead. It was just as well that no other militiaman was there to observe Levannue's blatant display of guilt. Tevi could almost have pitied her - were it not for the attempt on Jemeryl's life.

At that thought, Tevi rubbed the hilt of her sword with her thumb. Levannue looked so helpless. It was tempting to think a surprise attack might work. However, Jemeryl had made her promise repeatedly not to make any rash move and Tevi knew it was not the militia uniform that was frightening Levannue, but the imagined approach of a dozen Coven sorcerers. Tevi's lips tightened in a line; how much easier it would be if such a force were on hand.

For the sake of appearances, Tevi made a few militia-style grunts as she prodded the baggage. She treated the passengers to a last belligerent glare before clambering onto the tailboard of the wagon. With relief, she straightened her legs and viewed the scene around her.

The drizzle had returned with dawn. The carts and wagons drawn onto the grass stood forlorn in the dismal light. Tracks through the encampment were ankle-deep in mud and the pennants over trader's booths hung limp. Experience of the conditions underfoot prompted Tevi to take care in identifying a firm patch of ground before jumping down; even so, her feet skidded. It was only a colleague's hand that saved her from ending up in the mud. Tevi smiled her thanks as she regained her balance.

Some yards away, the caravan master was watching them with a hopeful expression. A nod from Tevi's companion was taken as permission to leave. With loud shouts and the creak of timber, the first team of horses was urged forward. Motion rippled from wagon to wagon along the road. Tevi stepped onto the marginally surer footing of the roadside embankment and watched the caravan pass. The fifteen huge wagons squelched along the road. Mud oozed in waves from under their wheels and clung to the shaggy fetlocks of the draft-horses. Outriders flanked the sides of the caravan, cloaks wrapped tightly, hoods pulled up.

The other militiaman stood by Tevi's shoulder. He studied the leaden sky. "They picked a nice day for travelling." he observed in deadpan tones.

Tevi grinned at him. "Tell me, does it ever stop raining in Horzt?"

"Oh yes, in a couple of months." He wiped a dangling raindrop off his nose with the back of his hand. "Then it starts snowing."

The caravan left the outskirts of the encampment. Tevi watched it ford a small river and turn north, through the sodden farmlands towards the high pass. The road headed straight for a break in the mountains. It was the route Jemeryl and she would also be taking in a few hours. At that very moment, Jemeryl was packing their few belongings and paying the innkeeper ready for their departure.

"It's the mountains that do it." the militiaman observed.

Tevi took her eyes from the last of the dwindling wagons to frown at him; the context of his statement was lost on her. "Pardon?"

"In autumn and winter the prevailing wind is from the south-east, carrying lots of water from the Eastern Ocean. The clouds have to rise to get over the mountains so they drop all their rain. Right here." he added with emphasis. "Twenty miles further north and you don't see rain from one week to the next. If you ask me, they built Horzt in the wrong place. It's a wonder we don't grow webbed toes and fingers - and how'd we put our gloves on then?"

Any further thoughts on the climate of Horzt were curtailed when a voice shouted behind them. "Hey! Laniss."

Tevi turned to acknowledge the name. Two other members of the militia were headed towards her, making what haste the mud permitted.

"What is it?" Tevi asked.

"The captain wants to see you in the gatehouse." one of the new arrivals said.

"Could wait until later? I'm on my way to do something."

"She wants to see you now."

The tone left no room for debate. Tevi could guess what the meeting would be about. Her absence from her post on the previous evening must have been reported by some zealous sergeant. Although half-expected, the summons was unwelcome - not that Tevi foresaw any problems; she had a plausible story prepared. By the time it was disproved, she and Jemeryl would be long gone. It was just that she hated lying, yet there was no way to avoid it.

Tevi gave a resigned shrug and started to pick her way through the morass. The two militiamen fell in beside her.

"It's all right, I'm going. I know the way." Tevi protested.

"We were told to accompany you." the man on Tevi's right said curtly.

No other words were spoken until they reached the doorway set just inside the massive arch of the gatehouse. Tevi was directed to the spiral stairway leading to the office over the gate. The two militiamen took up guard positions at either side of the entrance.

Something about their actions sent a ripple of disquiet through Tevi. It seemed an excessive precaution for a relatively minor misdemeanour on her part. There was, however, no time to consider it further. Tevi tugged off her helmet and roughly combed her fingers through her hair before knocking. A loud voice answered immediately.

Tevi marched in. She came to a bewildered halt in the middle of the room. The militia captain was standing by one of the slit windows. A scowl made her weather-beaten face look even more threatening than usual. From beneath thick black eyebrows, her eyes raked over Tevi. The captain's expression was worrying enough, but in addition, seated at the desk, was Mayor Gunather himself. His flabby bulk was held in a pose that was probably intended to look commanding but was more reminiscent of indigestion.

This summons was not just about a missed duty. Without thinking, Tevi went to take a step backwards. She heard the door slam shut before her foot had left the ground. Tevi spun around. Three unfamiliar mercenaries lined the rear wall of the room.

The tallest was a mountain of a man with a square florid face and hands that looked as if they had been hacked from granite. The man beside him seemed delicate by comparison, though Tevi could see he had the solid build of a professional warrior. He was the oldest of the three by a decade or more. A long scar ran across one weathered cheek and disappeared beneath his greying temples. The third was a woman with blond cropped hair and sharp hazel eyes. She stood balanced lightly on her feet with the deadly grace of an experienced scout. The hands of all three bore the double swords of vouch-safe guild mercenaries. Tevi was sure none of them had been in Horzt before that day.

"Sit down Tevi." Mayor Gunather reclaimed her attention. He gestured to a small round stool in the middle of the room. It was only when she had complied with the order that Tevi registered what he had called her. She looked up to meet the mayor's self-satisfied smile. He evidently felt he had ensnared her in a particularly cunning trap. "So, Tevi is your real name."

"No it isn't. It's just a nickname. But I'll admit I've been known by it in the past." she said defiantly - and it was true.

"Then you'll be the person we want. We're not bothered with what your parents called you." the oldest of the mercenaries said cheerfully.

Mayor Gunather looked irritated at the interruption. He cleared his throat before continuing. "These three comrades of yours have just arrived from the Protectorate. It seems a young mercenary matching your description, answering to the name of Tevi, has fallen in with bad company and has broken numerous Guild rules. They have a warrant from the guild-master for your arrest. They want to take you to Lyremouth for questioning. Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

Tevi lurched to her feet in alarm. The three standing behind her were ready. Tevi froze at the sound of a sword half-drawn. There were a few footsteps and the hand of the eldest mercenary fell heavily on her shoulder. Tevi let herself be pushed back onto the stool, despite her instinctive urge to resist. In both Ekranos and Horzt, she had hidden her true strength, not wanting to attract attention. Her chances of escape would be better if these strangers were unaware of her capabilities.

Tevi shrugged off the restraining hand and forced herself to relax. "I've done nothing wrong."

"Then you have nothing to worry about. The guild-master just wants to ask you a few questions." the mercenary said calmly. By his actions and manner, he was clearly the leader of the three. His hand moved from Tevi's shoulder to her sword belt. He undid the buckle with a couple of deft tugs and pulled the weapon free from her waist.

"Honestly. There's been some mistake. I'm not going to put up a fight..." Tevi hesitated, watching the mayor. The peremptory manner of the mercenaries was clearly irritating him. "But I wasn't aware the guild-master's warrant was valid in Horzt."

"It isn't." the mayor snapped. His ego was clearly stung by Tevi's barbed remark. He rose from his chair and leaned over the desk, gesticulating with the warrant in his hand for emphasis. "It goes without saying that this piece of paper has no authority here. Horzt is free from the jurisdiction of the guild-master, and from the Coven of Lyremouth."

The woman mercenary spoke from her position by the door. "We're not asking you to obey an order, merely to demonstrate goodwill to the guild. After all, so many of our members work in Horzt. A friendly relationship between you and the chief guild-master is in everyone's best interest." Despite her conciliatory tone, there was no mistaking the implied threat in her words. Without the guild, the town militia would collapse.

The captain by the window shuffled her feet. Her eyes flitted anxiously around the room and ended up fixed on the man standing behind the desk. Mayor Gunather continued to wave the paper indecisively, but it was empty posturing, as everyone in the room knew.

"I'm not going to interfere in a dispute between the guild and its members." The mayor said at last, glowering at Tevi. "Permission is granted for these three to take you prisoner. You are relieved of your contract with the town militia. Any outstanding salary is forfeit. The captain will take charge of your uniform." He sat down with the expression of a sulking child.

The captain came forward to claim Tevi's helmet, cloak and light cotton surcoat. The clothing underneath was warm and Tevi's padded leather jerkin was study but they were not sufficient for a long journey.

"Could someone collect my belongings from my lodgings?"

"And alert your friends? I think not." the mercenary leader said.

"I can't go all the way to Lyremouth like this." Tevi pointed out reasonably, although getting the news to Jemeryl had indeed been the main thought behind her request.

"I'll see what I can find." the captain volunteered. Tevi got the impression she wanted to get the guild-master's emissaries away from Horzt as quickly as possible - preferably before the mayor did something silly.

While waiting for the captain to come back, the mercenary leader returned to Tevi's side and ordered, "Hold out your hands."

Tevi froze in dread. She knew expelled mercenaries lost their hands - but surely only after due process? However, the man merely pulled a length of cord from his pouch. Tevi meekly allowed her wrists to be bound.

"We're going to leave quickly, before any of your friends become aware of what's happened. We don't want you trying to slip out a message, do we?" he said in conversational tones as he tied the knots.

"You don't want to try and take these accomplices as well?" the mayor asked.

The female mercenary shook her head. "I doubt we'd be able to. Apparently, they include a high level magic user. We've been given a ward so they won't be able to trace us magically once we get a couple of miles away. But you better be on the lookout. They might cause trouble here."

"I shouldn't think there'll be anything I can't cope with. Even a sorcerer might think twice about tackling the defences of Horzt." Mayor Gunather spoke breezily.

The man tying Tevi's hands had his back to the mayor. Judging by the look he shot at his colleagues, he thought the mayor was being absurdly overconfident, although nothing was said.

The door opened for the captain's return, bringing with her a long riding cloak and a couple of worn blankets. Tevi was hauled to her feet.

The mercenary leader shook out one of the blankets thoughtfully. "At least you won't freeze at night." He then tossed the blanket over Tevi's head, hiding her from view. "Can't do any harm, and it may slow down any gossip in town. Don't worry, we'll take it off as soon as we're well away."

Tevi was propelled down the stairs and hoisted onto a waiting horse. She clung to the saddle-horn with her bound hands as she was led from the echoing tunnel of the city gates and through the trader's encampment. The congested mud tracks slowed the horses to a walk but soon the sounds of activity faded and the pace increased. The blanket prevented Tevi seeing anything of where they were going and nothing very useful could be learnt from the sounds. The only thing she could do was hang onto her horse and hope.

*****

After an hour of hard riding, the group slowed and the blanket was removed from Tevi's head. They had reached the western flank of the valley where the farmland gave way to rough pasture and pine forest. Rain-soaked trees towered over the road. Volleys of heavy droplets fell with each gust of wind over the branches. The road was a mosaic of puddles, laced with loops of ripples. Tevi almost asked for the blanket to be replaced; at least it had kept her dry.

The oldest of the mercenaries reined his horse around to face her. An ironic smile tugged at his scarred face. "I guess it would be polite to introduce ourselves. My name's Russ. I was born in Horzt, so I know the local roads. I will be our guide on this little expedition."

Tevi had surmised as much from the guttural singsong of his accent.

Russ pointed to the woman mercenary. "Sharl is a tracker, in case we're careless enough to lose you. She's very skilled, whereas Flory is simply solid muscle - including the contents of his head. He'll be keeping an especially close eye on you, so hopefully Sharl's talents won't be needed."

Flory snorted, but was unperturbed by the jibe. "Nothing wrong with a bit of muscle on a mercenary. Wouldn't do if we were all thin and weedy. It may be all right for scouts, but warriors..." He treated Tevi to a disdainful glance.

"Don't be so confident. Our instructions warned she's a lot stronger than she looks." Sharl said.

"It also said we'll be well rewarded for this. I guess you have to pick what you want to believe." Flory shrugged. "Enough of the social niceties. Where do we go next?"

"The path we want leads off to the right in about a mile. It runs up the side of that escarpment." Russ pointed to a broken rock face visible above the trees.

Flory set his horse off at a brisk trot, pulling Tevi's mount by a tether attached to his saddle. The other two mercenaries fell in behind. Around the next bend, they passed a farmer, coaxing three placid, brown cows along the road. Her colourful string of curses at her livestock did not falter as the four riders passed. If she noticed Tevi's bound hands, she wisely gave no sign and kept her eyes on her cows, but a young child tagging along stopped and stared, eyes and mouth wide open, until another turn took the riders from view.

The sound of the farmer's swearing was still carried faintly on the breeze when a shout from Russ brought the group to a halt. He pointed at a virtually imperceptible break in the woven wall of pine branches lining the road. The gap was unrecognisable as the start of a path.

"Oh no. Not the scenic route!" Flory groaned. "I don't want to spend the next month going in circles around a peat bog."

"And we don't want to be followed." Sharl laughed as she slipped from her saddle and passed her horse's reins to Russ. "Just because you don't possess a sense of direction, doesn't mean that no one else does. Go ahead with the prisoner. I'll disguise our tracks. Wait for me down the path a little."

The trail was so narrow they were forced to go in single file. Russ led the way with Sharl's horse on tow. After a long look at the impenetrable forest on either side, Flory slipped the tether from Tevi's horse and slapped its rump to urge it forward. The horse trotted along the path a couple dozen yards, to the point where Russ had stopped. Despite her bound hands, Tevi managed to scoop up her horse's reins. It put her no more in control than before and the confined space heightened her anxiety. She felt utterly trapped. The weak daylight was reduced to heavy dusk under the trees. She twisted to peer back at the road they had left but Flory's bulk blocked the view.

"It all went to plan. No hitches, which is better than I expected from the instructions we got." Russ said, evidently addressing Flory.

"You can say that when we deliver the prisoner." Flory replied, grimly.

"You're such a pessimist. If we'd had longer in Horzt, I'm sure I could have put a smile on your face."

"I saw enough of the town. I'm quite content to be away and in one piece."

"You don't know what you've missed."

"I'll try and live with the loss." Flory did not sound impressed.

Russ laughed. "I know this bar on the south side where..."

Tevi's nerves could stand the trivialities no more. She broke in, her voice sharp. "Tell me, now there are no witnesses, are you going to kill me here or will you hand me over to Levannue?"

Confused silence met her words. Eventually Russ answered. "Neither. Like we said, we're taking you to Lyremouth. I don't know who this Levannue is."

Tevi stared at him through the gloom. The eyes that met hers seemed free from deceit or coercion - but how could she, or any ungifted human, tell for certain?

There was a soft rustle as Sharl pushed passed Tevi's legs and swung up onto her waiting horse. "It's alright boys. I've finished the arty bits."

Tevi kept her eyes on Russ. "Whether you know it or not, Levannue's is the one behind all this."

"Who's Levannue?" Sharl asked innocently.

Russ shrugged his ignorance. After a long look at Tevi, he urged his horse forward. Behind her, Flory also started to move, herding her horse through the tunnel of trees.

As they rode, Tevi looked about, searching desperately for some way of escaping. On either side, the forest floor was a rich beige, thick with pine needles. There was scant undergrowth beneath the shade of the trees. Low sweeping branches, knotted with fir cones, sweep close to the ground. To leave the trail, you would have to go on foot, or even crawl, while being an easy target for arrows.

Tevi chewed her lip. She would have to bide her time, but how long did she have? How long before Levannue showed up?

*****

At midday, they rested in a spot where the track broadened out into a bracken filled clearing atop a ridge. The rain had ceased temporarily. A ragged belt of blue broke between the clouds but the wind was damp. Tevi stood where directed. She shifted her weight from leg to leg, while kicking her feet to aid the circulation to tired muscles. She rotated slowly as she did so, absorbing the view.

Folds of tree-clad mountains rolled away to the south. To the north, cloud cover swallowed the higher peaks. To the east, the air was streaked yellow with falling rain. Her captors also stretched cramped limbs and looked around. They acted in a relaxed fashion; yet, Tevi was aware of their continual attention. One of them was always positioned between her and the grazing horses.

Russ pulled open a bag and passed around hard cheese, dried fruit and drier bread.

"The delights of the open road." Flory muttered as he accepted his share. "Anything to wash this down with?"

"Water." Russ offered.

"Anything better?"

"Not unless you want to pop back to Horzt and get it."

"Do you think if we'd asked nicely the mayor would have given us a few bottles from his cellar?" Sharl joined in.

"Empty ones, maybe." Russ retorted.

The exchange was light-hearted. It was the same natural banter of mercenaries that had been going all morning. Tevi had become increasingly convinced that her three captors were not ensorceled - they certainly did not match Jemeryl's description of listless puppets, and neither did they seem corrupt. Tevi was confused. It did not make sense.

"Who told you to come to Horzt to take me prisoner?" she asked in a lull.

"Our captain." Russ answered.

"Did the instruction come direct from the guild-master in Lyremouth?"

Russ nodded. "Yes, via carrier pigeon. We're from the garrison in Gossenfeld. The order arrived two mornings ago. The captain picked us for the job."

"Oh, of course." Tevi said with sudden enlightenment.

Three confused faces turned in her direction.

"You've got to believe me." Tevi said earnestly. "The order wasn't from Lyremouth. It must have been a forgery by Levannue."

"What makes you think that?" Russ was clearly unmoved.

"Because I know I haven't done anything wrong."

"And this Levannue's got a grudge against you?" Flory's voice was also sceptical

"Maybe not me in particular. But she's a renegade and I'm with a group trying to capture her."

"It's a pretty neat trick to kidnap one of the guild pigeons and forge the guild-master's seal. This Levannue is obviously very resourceful." Flory said sarcastically.

"She could do it easily. Levannue is a Coven sorcerer."

There was a long moment of startled silence.

"Oh girl, what have you got yourself messed up in?" Sharl said softly.

"If you credit the story." Flory interjected.

"It may be true." Russ said slowly. "I've heard rumours. The whole Coven is in uproar at the moment and, now I think of it, the name Levannue does sound vaguely familiar." He fixed Tevi with a level gaze. "Take my advice, you're well out of it. Let the sorcerers sort out their own problems. It doesn't concern the likes of you and me."

"But you've got to let me go. At best, Levannue is hoping to pull people off on a wild goose chase through the mountains. At worst,, she's lying in wait ahead. If she captures me, she'll read my mind and..." Tevi broke off. The three faces watching her were implacable. She sighed. "I know it sounds like I'm making things up so you'll let me go."

"It certainly does that." Russ agreed.

"What can I say to make you believe me?"

"It's irrelevant what you make me believe. I've been given orders and I'm obeying them. It can all be sorted out in Lyremouth." Russ spoke firmly, clearly terminating the conversation as far as he was concerned.

A canteen of water was passed around as the mercenaries prepared to return to the trail. Tevi took a long swig, restraining any further pleas. It would be wisest to keep conflict with her captors to a minimum. She had to escape, and knew she would get only one chance. In the meantime, she had no choice but to let herself be taken further away from Horzt, and Jemeryl.

*****

The route Russ chose kept to little-used forest trails and was clearly chosen for secrecy rather than speed. They saw no trace of human habitation until late afternoon, two days later, when their path descended into a broad valley. At the bottom was a fast flowing river. The trees rolled down to this natural boundary and stopped. On the other side were farmlands. The hills rising beyond were nothing like as high; it would seem they were about to leave the mountains. Smoke from several chimneys drifted into the sky from a source downstream.

Russ grinned at Flory. "See. I told you we wouldn't get lost and hopefully it should have thrown any pursuit. Now we can quicken the pace a bit. Gossenfeld is about sixty miles southeast of here, but we're going to head straight for Rizen and take the Langhope pass. With any luck, we'll be at Lyremouth inside twenty days."

Flory merely grunted by way of reply. He looked down at the raging waters, swollen by the resent rain. Fierce eddies sucked at the banks. The white of cascades was stained reddish-brown by washed mud and interspersed with smooth strips of glassy black water. Leaves and other debris swept passed, dancing in frenzied swirls to the thunder of the river.

"How do we get across?" he asked eventually.

"Can't you swim?" Tevi asked with mock innocence.

The momentary look of horror that crossed Flory's face was matched by amused grins from Russ and Sharl. An easy rapport had grown between Tevi and the other three, despite their respective status as prisoner and escort. Tevi could admit to a genuine respect for her captors. They had acted with capable professionalism, allowing her not the slightest chance to escape, but never treating her vindictively or unfairly.

"Anyone who fancies the swim is welcome to try, however there is a better way." Russ said as he turned his horse in the direction of the trails of smoke. A mud-clogged path ran along the riverbank.

"If I volunteer to try swimming it, would you untie my hands first?" Tevi asked, joking.

"No." Russ matched her tone and turned in the saddle to meet Tevi's eyes. "Hopefully, someday we'll get the chance to travel together in happier circumstances. You can demonstrate your swimming ability then."

"You mean you think I might be innocent?"

Russ's face became serious. "I think you've got involved in things out of your depth. But no, I don't think you're a wrong 'un. And I'll say as much for you when we get to Lyremouth."

"Thank you, but there should be no need. I really have done nothing wrong." Tevi said.

Sharl leaned over from her horse to squeeze Tevi's shoulder. "I hope so, for your sake. You've got very nice hands."

Even Flory managed a few words of comfort. "Look on the bright side. If you are innocent, you'll get to spend a free winter in Lyremouth, which will be a lot more fun than freezing your arse off in the snow at Horzt."

Tevi sighed but said nothing. Despite her liking for the three mercenaries, she had no intention of going to Lyremouth if she could help it, but it seemed that she might get no option. At least, her fears of being ambushed by Levannue had diminished.

The river had burst its banks in places and covered the path. The horses waded up to their knees between half-submerged trees and bushes. It was slow progress, hampered by the fading light. Sunset was more than an hour way, but a thick sheet of grey covered the sky. It grew steadily darker as heavy storm clouds rolled over the mountains. Above their heads, branches shook in the rising wind. Fumbling with her bound hands, Tevi tugged her cloak tightly around her shoulders and pulled up the collar.

Eventually, a small hamlet came into view on the far bank, made up of a dozen squat thatched cottages with adjacent barns and pigsties. Tevi craned her neck to peer down the river, hoping for a sight of a bridge. Just before they drew level with the first of the buildings, the path disappeared into the largest flooded area they had yet encountered.

Russ rode his horse to the water's edge. "There's a ford here in summer."

"There isn't now." Flory curtly stated the obvious.

"So it's just as well that there's a ferry." Russ grinned and led the way around the water.

A hundred yards below the hamlet, the river looped away from the steep side of the valley. The trees gave way to an uneven expanse of hummocks and tufts of waving long grass. The river broadened out, which took the edge off the furious torrent, although it still roared past barely a foot below the top of the bank. A thick rope was strung across the river at the widest point. Beached half out of the water on the far side was a broad raft, attached to the line by two running loops and a pulley arrangement.

"Ahoy" Russ shouted loudly, hands cupped around his mouth.

Before his voice had died away, a door in the nearest cottage swung open and a thickset man appeared. He strode down to the water's edge.

"I'll bet he was watching us ride along the river bank, but they do like to be called." Russ's scarred face held a grin.

"And paid." Sharl added softly.

The ferryman shoved his craft into the water and leapt on. The platform bobbed slightly but seemed quite stable.

Flory was not comforted. "You seriously expect me to go across the river on that thing?"

"You could swim like Tevi suggested." Russ said.

"Is it safe?"

"People don't drown here often."

Flory snorted. "I know. They only do it once."

The ferry was now halfway across. The force of the water pushed the raft downstream, tugging the line taut. The strained rope creaked alarmingly; however, the ferryman was unconcerned. His tuneless whistling piped above the roar of the water. On either side of the river, the rope was tied around a large stake, the size of Flory's forearm, that was driven obliquely into the ground. The one on their side was several yards back from the water's edge and presumably beyond the risk of flooding.

"It will be twelve copper pennies for you and your horses." were the ferryman's first words, even before he had stepped off his raft.

Sharl muffled a snort of amusement.

Russ leaned forward casually, but Tevi noted that he made sure his mercenary tattoos were on show. "And how much will it be after we've stood here in the cold for half an hour haggling?"

The ferryman's eyes flitted between them. "Eight."

"I'd have guessed at six." Russ countered.

"Alright." the ferryman said after a slight hesitation. "You'll have to go in two lots. I can only take two horses and two people at a time."

"I don't suppose you could stretch to two horses and three passengers?" Russ asked.

"Nah." the ferryman spat. "To tell the truth, it's overloaded with just two."

"In that case, you can have your eight pennies and we'll travel across in three trips. I'll take the first two horses. Flory can follow with Tevi and Sharl can bring the other two horses."

The ferryman's forehead knotted in confusion.

Tevi held up her bound hands for him to see. "What he means is they don't want to leave me on either bank with only one of them to guard me. Think it through."

Russ met Tevi's eyes and grinned. There was also approval of her quick wits on his face. The ferryman, on the other hand, looked startled but no more enlightened; however, he was not about to argue at the prospect of extra coins.

The horses needed blindfolds before they could be persuaded onto the swaying raft. Russ hugged their necks and murmured calming words while the ferry was hauled back across the river.

Tevi went to stand at the river's edge and watched the water swirl passed. The river had not burst its banks on this side, but was clearly far deeper than normal. Long trailing grasses were tugged parallel by the rush and the tops of submerged shapes loomed ghostlike below the surface.

Sharl joined Tevi and put an arm around her shoulder. "Of course, we all know that this is your best chance to escape. Do yourself a favour and don't try it. We might even untie your hands when we get to the other side."

Tevi glanced behind her. As ever, Flory was standing between her and the horses, watching. His great arms were folded across his chest. Tevi turned back to the river, adding up the chances. Both guards were alert. She knew even Sharl's friendly arm was intended partly to hold her secure. However, she still had one element of surprise. Despite the warning in their instructions, Tevi was sure her captors were unaware of the full extent of her strength. It might prove decisive. If not, Tevi guessed, she would spend the rest of the journey to Lyremouth trussed and bound over the saddle of her horse. Either way, she had to try.

The ferry had almost reached the far side. Beside her, Sharl was watching it negotiate the last few yards. Tevi took a deep breath, now was the time.

Tevi ducked with a sharp turning motion, breaking free from the restraining arm. Her shoulder slammed square into Sharl's back. For a moment, the scout fought for balance. A second nudge completed the job. As Sharl toppled into the water, Tevi spun to face Flory, holding her bound hands outstretched before her.

The tall mercenary's expression was transformed from complacency to outrage. "Why you little..."

Flory leapt forward, fists raised, not waiting to draw his sword. Tevi ducked under his arms and grasped his leather jerkin. His momentum kept him ploughing forward. Tevi twisted, pulling him on and up. The tall mercenary was hoisted into the air and hurled over the riverbank. Tumbling backwards, one leg trailing, Flory hit the river. A hole seemed to open under him as walls of water shot out on all sides, then the surging river rolled back over his head and swallowed him.

Shouts from the far bank told Tevi that Russ was aware of what was happening. With no time to waste Tevi dived to the stake securing the ferry line. Her fingers locked around the rough wood, gripping it tight. Knees bent, feet braced on either side, she threw every ounce of her potion-enhanced strength into the effort. The muscles in her legs, back and arms strained. For a heart-stopping moment, the stake remained firm, but then a faint shift trembled up Tevi's arms, followed by a larger movement. To the wet sucking of mud, the stake pulled free.

More shouts erupted on the other side of the river. Russ had disembarked the horses and was pulling his bow from a saddle pack. On the near bank, Sharl had grasped the side and was starting to haul herself out. Flory had surfaced mid-river. Somehow, the huge warrior had gained his feet but was unable to move against the current. The water came to his thighs; a bow-wave streamed around him. One cautious attempt to move his leg almost cost his balance. Flory lost ground and slid a few more feet downstream.

Sharl lay sprawled, half out of the water. Tevi dropped down beside her. With a firm hand, she shoved the scout back and then held out the stake. "Why don't you take this and rescue Flory? Russ can pull you both to the far side. You must realise I can't let you out on this bank."

Sharl gave her a venomous look. "Don't be a fool. The guild will get you in the end."

"I swear I've done nothing wrong. You're the victims of a trick. I'm quest-bound at the moment but, I promise, when it's over I'll come to Lyremouth and answer for everything."

Tevi pressed the rope at the half-submerged woman. At that moment, a fresh vortex hit Flory, causing him to shout in alarm as stones slipped under his feet. Fear was starting to show on his face. Sharl looked over her shoulder and then, without a word, took the stake from Tevi. She wrapped the rope once around her body and kicked off from the bank, letting the force of the water swing her in an arc across the river.

The horses were standing patiently a few yards away. Tevi leapt onto the nearest and swung down to catch the dangling reins of the other. She headed for protection between the trees, in case of arrows. Only once she had got there did she look back. There was no need to worry - Russ had abandoned the attempt to string his bow. With the help of the ferryman, he was pulling his two comrades to safety.

Tevi found a sharp knife in the saddlebags. Soon, her hands were free. Meanwhile, on the other side of the river, Sharl and Flory had been dragged to safety, aided by several other villagers who had come to find the source of the commotion.

Tevi rode back a short way towards them and raised her voice. "I'll see you in Lyremouth."

Russ glanced briefly at his discarded bow before stepping up to the water's edge. "If not before." His tone made the words a threat.

Tevi looked at the sky. Night was approaching rapidly. The storm clouds were hanging low and heavy. She doubted the others would be able to re-cross the river before dark, but it was certainly advisable to get far away as quickly as possible.

Sharl and Flory joined Russ on the far bank. The three of them stood in a grim line. Tevi raised her hand in a friendly salute that was not returned. She reined her horse around and rode back down the trail into the shelter of the forest.

Chapter 3: Magic Tricks

Ponderous clouds, black and purple, loomed over the farmlands, hastening the onset of night. Under the trees, it was darker still. A rising wind shook the branches in a hissing imitation of the river's roar. Dense shadows coiled around roots, which jutted claw-like from the eroded red soil. The weakening light glinted off the pools of black water that flooded dips in the route along the river's edge.

At the point where the path reached the trees, a second smaller trail branched away. It was little more than a scratch in the steep side of the valley. The bare trodden earth showed pale in the gloom. Tevi halted the horses and examined the trail. The surface was littered with a scattering of pinecones, broken twigs and mud-smeared rocks. It rose steeply for the first few yards, and then levelled out before disappearing into the shadows. A clear line of hoof prints gave the promise that the track was passable on horseback.

There was no way of knowing where the path led, yet it had to be safer than the treacherous, half-submerged route along the riverbank. Tevi twisted in the saddle to look back. Russ and the others were still watching her. They would see where she went, but it could not be kept secret. Sharl would have no problems tracking her across soft ground. For Tevi, the most important thing was to put as much distance as possible between herself and the others. To that end, the track up the hillside was probably as good as any other.

The sound of the river faded away below to be replaced by an oppressive silence in which the horses' hooves fell with dead thuds. After a few hundred yards, the path rounded the base of a sheer rock face, where water dripped from clinging beards of moss, and then bent back to the north, still climbing steadily. On either side, the trunks of trees rose like pillars - and they seemed to be closing in. Tevi had to duck repeatedly to avoid low branches. She was eventually forced to dismount and lead the horses on foot.

Higher up, the cold wind blew more freely but provided little relief from the heavy, charged air. A rumble of thunder boomed in the distance. Eventually, the track rolled over the brow of the hill and begun a steep descent. The path underfoot degenerated into little more than a mud-filled gully. The horses' nostrils flared wide as their hooves slipped and skidded. Tevi carried on doggedly, pulling the horses with the reins wrapped round her hand, although she was increasingly aware she might be forced to retrace her steps.

There was little now to distinguish her route through the forest as a path. The light was so poor that Tevi was reduced to guessing the way. The horses' hooves gouged deep gashes in the mud as they slithered down a nearly vertical bank. To Tevi's relief, the trail bottomed out in a grassy hollow. She halted at the edge of the open space to calm the unsettled animals and prayed she would be able to find a way forward. It would not be easy to get the horses back up that last sheer section. The sky had now darkened to a heavy grey; the first of the rain splattered on her face. Within seconds, the sound of the downpour rose into a crescendo of drumming. Tall grass in the clearing was bent down, flattened by the force of the rain.

Tevi was looking up, cursing the storm, when the sky was torn apart by a white-hot bolt of lightning, etching the treetops in stark silhouette. The thunder broke immediately - a pounding, deafening onslaught of sound, which sent the horses rearing back in panic. Tevi was almost wrenched off her feet. Somehow, she managed to hang on and get the frightened animals under control. She pressed them back under the shelter of a spreading pine and tied their reins securely to the trunk. There was no hope of progress until the worst of the storm had blown over - maybe not even then.

She left the horses and returned to the clearing, moving out from the sheltering trees in defiance of the storm. The ground sunk and squelched under her feet. The quagmire was due to more than just the pelting rain. It was not a manmade clearing, but a spring, the head of a stream. On the downhill side, straggling trees and bushes knotted in an unbroken, sprawling hedge. Uphill, the steeply rising ground formed the sheer sides of an eroded basin. There was no exit. It would seem she had reached the end of the trail.

Tevi sank back against the rough bark of a tree and considered her situation. It was insane to continue wandering aimlessly in this nightmare of mud and rain, risking injury to both herself and the horses. By morning they would all be exhausted and still no further from the pursuit. There was also not the slightest risk of the other mercenaries re-crossing the river that night. A camp and early start on the next morning was easily the wisest course of action - maybe daylight would reveal a missed turning in the trail.

The centre of the storm was moving away, although thunder still pounded over the mountains. It alarmed the horses and complicating the task of removing the saddles and packs from their backs. Tevi discovered her confiscated sword wrapped in one bundle. There was nothing rational about the emotion, but with it again at her side she felt less helpless.

She gave what attention she could to the horses, sharing a small bag of oats between them. It was insufficient for their needs, but the animals seemed to find it reassuring. Tevi manufactured a tent from a waterproof sheet, in the driest spot she could find. Her own meal came from the food rations and full water-skin found in the saddle-packs.

By the time she had finished, the thunder had faded. It was now little more than the occasional rumble in the distance. However, the rain still fell in sheets, lashing the hillside. The horses had calmed down. They nuzzled against her hands with only the softest wicker of complaint. Tevi judged there was little chance of them straying - not least because there was no obvious way out of the hollow. She turned them loose to graze or find shelter as they chose and crawled into the damp blankets of her bed.

*****

Tevi awoke to the first uncertain trill of bird-song. The storms of the previous night had blown themselves out. Pre-dawn light picked out the faint details of the sodden vegetation. At the far side of the hollow were the dark forms of two horses. Stars still twinkled brightly overhead but off to the east a pale tint was gaining strength in the mountain sky. The air was bitterly cold. Tevi stumbled to the edge of the boggy ground and stood, stamping her frozen feet and slapping her arms to speed the circulation of blood. The horses ambled to her side.

Hazy blue-grey light filtered through the forest. The dark trunks of trees stood like rows of ghostly soldiers, wreathed in tendrils of mist. A brighter patch revealed another break in the trees, some twenty yards further downhill. Tevi set off to investigate, skirting the edge of the bog.

The wet grass drenched her feet and legs. Heavy splats of water dripped fitfully from leaves and branches as she passed below. Somewhere, a bird warbled out its territorial claim. The song and the snap of twigs under her feet were the only sounds as Tevi pushed her way between the trees. Soon, she emerged onto a well-used forest road.

The track was deserted. Tevi ventured to the centre to look in both directions. To the west, she guessed it lead to the place on the river that Russ had claimed was a ford in summer. In the other direction, it headed off into the distance, its destination unknown, though surely it must eventually link with the Gossenfeld to Horzt road.

Tevi chewed her lip as she thought. This was clearly a reasonably well-used highway through the forest. Her experience of the previous night had reinforced the knowledge that she could not match Russ's ability to navigate the wilderness trails. Her best hope lay in speed and taking advantage of the head start. Maybe, in the general traffic, Sharl might lose her tracks.

A short way off, a lively stream washed across the road. Beside it was a muddy break in the grass verge of the road. Tevi walked to the spot and peered into the forest. Under the trees were the remnants of a disused path, heading for the spring. The summer's growth of bramble had obscured the track in many parts, but proved no match for Tevi's sword. In a matter of minutes she had hacked her way thorough a last heavy thicket and stepped into the marshy open space around the spring.

The daylight was strengthening, putting colour back into the green of the foliage. The horses were grazing quietly, swiping huge mouthfuls of the wet grass. They watched with large disinterested eyes as Tevi hastily packed the bags. She saddled both horses - the chance to swap mounts might well give her the decisive advantage in speed.

Tevi lead the horses along the short path she had just hacked. The first bands of pink were touching the eastern sky as they reached the main road. Tevi swung up into the saddle. The horses stamped their feet and raised their heads to sniff the sweet dawn air. They needed no urging. At the faintest touch of her heels, the horse she was riding sprung forward. The other, tethered to the saddle, matched it stride for stride. The pounding of their hooves resounded over the forest as they galloped along the road towards the rising sun.

*****

It was afternoon on the following day when Tevi re-entered the Horzt valley. She stopped by the same grassy knoll she had stood on with Jemeryl to view the town, and considered her next step. So far, everything had gone without incident. Nobody had paid attention to the young guild mercenary racing by with two horses. No doubt, they assumed her to be a courier on official business. The good roads had cut a day off her return journey - a healthy pace, even allowing that Russ's route had been chosen for stealth rather than speed.

Now things needed a bit more thought. Entering Horzt would be dangerous but Tevi did not know how else to find Jemeryl. She stared at the distant walls. The mayor had been unenthusiastic at handing her over in the first place. Would he now see it as purely the guild's problem that she had escaped? Or was he too dependent on the guild to risk a show of defiance?

Not that it matters, Tevi told herself with a humourless smile; if the other mercenaries believe me a renegade from the guild, they'll take me prisoner without needing his say-so. She would have to slip in quietly at dusk under cover of the general licentiousness. No one paid much attention to drunks, as long as they didn't cause trouble. It wasn't a very good plan, but she could think of nothing better.

Tevi returned to the road and pressed the horses into a steady canter. After a short while, she came across a spot where the track divided. A sudden impulse prompted her to take the smaller fork, which hugged the western flank of the valley. However, she had not gone far along the rutted cart track before she was questioning the wisdom of her hasty decision. There would be fewer witnesses than on the main road, but those she did meet might wonder what a guild courier was doing in the farming fringes of the Horzt valley. Yet, now that she had made her choice, there seemed little point in retracing her steps. Tevi shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts.

An hour later, the road began to look vaguely familiar. It puzzled Tevi until she recognised the spot where the foul-mouthed farmer had been driving the three cows. She was now heading in the opposite direction and realised she must already have passed the entrance to Russ's forest trail. Soon, she reached the place where the blanket had been removed from her head. A narrow track split off from the road and headed through the fields straight for Horzt. It was the route by which the mercenaries had escorted her from town and was the quickest way back.

Although she was unclear about her own reasons, Tevi kept to the edge of the valley. She stopped only when a small village appeared, sprawled along either side of the road. A few chickens and children ran between the houses. In the fields were horses and farm-workers. Tevi was not sure why she felt she wanted to avoid the village, but her eyes caught sight of a well-worn path running off to the left. Almost without thinking, she quit the level road and rode slowly up the hillside.

For the first few hundred yards, the path climbed across open sheep pasture until dense woodland was reached. Thereafter, it continued to rise steeply through the trees with no obvious destination, although, unlike her last experience of such trails, this one showed no sign of fading away.

For once, the clouds had dispersed and autumn sunshine bathed the woods in a mellow afternoon light. There was a heavy warm silence, broken only by the steady clump of hooves, distant bird-song and the drone of insects. The peace of her surroundings soaked into Tevi, filling her with an untroubled drowsiness. She was barely aware of it, and certainly not concerned, when her head began to nod.

*****

Tevi awoke to find herself high in the mountains. Rocky outcrops broke from the upland, their bases littered with cracked boulders and scree. The trees were sparse and stunted, interspersed with belts of bracken and heather. From the sun's position, Tevi knew it was nearly evening. Hours had passed in her daze.

Tevi pinched the bridge of her nose hard, partly to drive away the cobwebs clinging to the corners of her mind, partly to give expression to her anger with herself. It went against all her training to have given in to sleep. Not even two restless nights offered an excuse. Now, it would take some hard riding to reach to Horzt by nightfall - if she could work out the way to go.

There was neither signpost nor landmark in sight. The path behind her disappeared up over a ridge while ahead it slipped across folds in the mountainside, leading down to a valley. Her first thought was to turn the horses around and go back the way she had come, but the idea left her uneasy; she was not sure if it was the most sensible thing to do. She had no idea what paths she had taken and no wish to spend the night criss-crossing the mountains. Perhaps the valley would contain a bigger road or a hamlet where she could ask directions.

A prod with her heels set the horses off at a brisk pace, but ripples of lethargy begun to wash over Tevi again. The hillside was drifting into nothingness as she left the last wooded hollow before reaching the valley's bottom. With an almost audible snap, the spell broke. Someone had made camp by the banks of a leaping brook. Tevi dropped from the saddle and pulled the horses back under the cover of the trees.

From the shelter of a dense bush, she surveyed the scene. A simple tent was strung between two trees. A horse was quietly grazing upstream and a trickle of smoke wafted into the air from a campfire. There was no other sign of life and nothing to explain Tevi's certainty that this camp was the centre of the summons that had pulled her into the mountains. She eased back, about to slip away, when a harsh voice spoke behind her.

"You know, you could just walk down to the camp."

Tevi spun about, half drawing her sword even as she recognised the voice.

Perched on the rump of one horse was a magpie, head cocked to one side, watching her. Klara continued speaking. "You'll have to excuse Jem for not rushing out to greet you, but she's very tired. She's been calling you for days."

*****

Ripples of flame chased over the logs on the campfire. A light breeze fanned veins of glowing red through the coating of grey ash. Tevi snapped another branch in half and fed it to the hungry flames. Above the fire, stew was bubbling in a pot. The rich aroma hung heavy on the night air, making Tevi's stomach growl. She paused to give another unnecessary stir before settling back on her elbows.

The dark mass of the hillside rose opposite. Its top was ragged with a fringe of trees. Banks of clouds were rolling in from the south, swallowing the stars, but for now the moon floated clear, a half sphere, pure and cold, set against the black sky.

The new wood spat and crackled as sap exploded under the bark. Other sounds came from further off - a snort from a horse and the undulating gurgle of the brook. Tevi felt a deep sense of peace; a feeling aided immensely by knowing that Klara was patrolling the treetops.

Tevi shifted around so she could look in through the open mouth of the tent. The firelight rippled over the sleeping form of Jemeryl in dull reds and warm shadows. The sight held Tevi a long time, watching.

It was obvious that the sorcerer had scarcely slept in all the time they had been apart. On Tevi's arrival at the camp, Jemeryl had staggered from the tent, clung to Tevi as if she was never going to let go, sobbed, "I'm so pleased you're here." and then virtually fallen asleep on her feet. The food was ready but, despite her own hunger, Tevi was happy to wait until her lover woke of her own accord.

Eventually, Jemeryl stirred. She rolled onto her back and her eyelids flickered. "What time is it?"

"Late."

"Is dinner cooked?"

"It was ready ages ago."

"Was?" Jemeryl levered herself up. "Is there any left, or have you scoffed the lot?"

Tevi smiled. "I was very tempted."

Jemeryl shuffled out of the tent, dragging a blanket behind her, more by chance than design. She burrowed into Tevi's arms, in an emotional, although clumsy, embrace. Tevi returned the hug.

Jemeryl's lips steered towards Tevi's as she mumbled, "I didn't say 'hello' properly before."

The kiss that followed was also slightly uncoordinated, but Tevi wasn't complaining. Her stomach, on the other hand, was not so patient.

Tevi broke off at the rumbling sound. "I think I'd better serve up the food."

Jemeryl gave one last hug and then sat by the fire looking dazed. Her eyes stared blankly into the flames and her hair was even more dishevelled than normal. Tevi smiled as she handed over a bowl of the stew. For a while, they ate in silence, sitting side by side with the blanket draped around their shoulders. The night air was chill and Jemeryl shivered as she put aside her empty bowl.

"Are you all right?" Tevi asked, concerned.

"I will be. I got overtired. I haven't been sleeping much recently." Jemeryl rested her head on Tevi's shoulder. "I wouldn't turn down another bowlful. Why don't you tell me what's been happening to you while we eat? My mind's working okay; it's just my body that hasn't woken up yet."

By the time Tevi finished the story of her capture and escape, the clouds had completed their advance across the sky and cloaked the moon. The firelight cavorted demonically now it had no rival. The last of the stew was gone and the empty pot stood to one side. Tevi concluded with a brief description of her entranced arrival at the camp in the mountains.

"I've wondered what it's like to be caught in a spell." Tevi had a bemused frown on her face. "It was odd. I knew something was up, but I couldn't be bothered to work out what."

"I'm sorry, I really am." Jemeryl said earnestly. "I didn't want to ensnare you, without your permission, but I didn't know how else to get you here. I was terrified you'd walk back into the hornets' nest I've stirred up in Horzt."

"Hornets? What did you do?"

"At first, I sat and waited until, by mid-morning, I was convinced you'd been caught by Levannue. So I dropped the old crone disguise and went looking. It set off the mayor's wards, and some people started acting very silly. No one would tell me anything. In the end, I'm afraid I lost my temper." Jemeryl stared into the dancing flames. "In the Protectorate, you tend to lose sight of just what you can do, if you want - of how vulnerable the ungifted are."

"Did you hurt anyone?"

"Not seriously. The only real casualty was the mayor's dignity. I suspended him upside-down over a cesspit and threatened to drop him if he didn't say what had happened to you. He blabbed everything but by then you were too far gone to scry." Jemeryl shrugged. "So I dropped him anyway. Then I thought it would be tactful to leave town. I didn't want to get into a confrontation with the militia."

"I doubt they'd have stood against you. Most are guild mercenaries, so they're sworn to obey Coven sorcerers and I suspect even the non-guild militia appreciated what you did to the mayor."

"It's true none of them risked their necks coming to his aid, but I couldn't count on it lasting. With rumours of a renegade sorcerer going about, it only needed someone to take the initiative and things could have got nasty."

"Could they have hurt you?"

Jemeryl pursed her lips. "Unlikely, but they might have forced me to hurt them. Oaths go both ways. I'm sworn to defend Protectorate citizens. So, I came up here. I guessed they wouldn't chase me once I left town, but I was worried about you."

"It could have been unpleasant if the mayor got his hands on me. I have the feeling he's the sort of person who holds grudges. If you hadn't called me I'd have walked straight into his arms."

"Which is why I haven't dared sleep. I didn't know when you'd escape or whether you'd arrive by day or night."

"You knew I'd escape?"

"I had faith in you." Jemeryl caught one of Tevi's hands between hers. "There was no way I could risk leaving here and let you get caught by the mayor."

"Levannue's plan worked." Tevi said bitterly. "She managed to pin us down and get away."

Jemeryl paused before replying. "I don't think Levannue had anything to do with your arrest."

"She must have. Who else is going to start sending false warrants?"

"I'm not sure it was false. Your captors had been warned of your enhanced strength. Levannue wouldn't know anything about that." Jemeryl pointed out. "After we left, it must have taken Neame a few days to find a ship bound for Lyremouth - there aren't enough sorcerers left in Ekranos to send a message by magic. It would be over a month before the boat arrived, then another few days for the Guardian to make a decision and for the pigeon to get to Gossenfeld. Which ties in perfectly with the time the warrant arrived."

"But why?"

"Levannue fell for the lure of this spell. With me absconding from Ekranos, people in Lyremouth might be worried that I've found out what the spell does and have given in to the temptation as well. I might be about to swipe the chalice from Levannue and set off on my own. Perhaps the Guardian wanted to talk to you to find out what's going on and whether it's one or two traitors they have on their hands."

"By taking me prisoner they stopped you from catching Levannue. Either way, they'd have been better leaving you alone. If you were still loyal it was insane to distract you, and if you weren't at least, after you and Levannue fought, they'd be back to just one traitor again." Tevi argued.

"I don't think they'd have done the sums that way - for the very same reason Levannue wouldn't have tried to use you as a decoy." Jemeryl raised her hand and guided Tevi's face so their eyes met. "It would never have occurred to either the Guardian or Levannue that a sorcerer would stop doing something important for the sake of one ungifted, junior mercenary. I'm afraid, my love, they wouldn't believe that I would think so much of you."

"The Guardian knew we were lovers."

"And I'll bet she's certain that I'll have tired of you by now. One night stands are rare enough between sorcerers and the ungifted; long term relationships are unheard of. The Guardian would have reckoned that, if I'd turned traitor, I'd be using you, so taking you away deprived me of a servant and, if I was still loyal, she'd be doing me a favour by taking you off my hands." Jemeryl's voice dropped. "Very few sorcerers have any real regard for the ungifted. Our oaths to protect them are just the glue that holds the Coven together. This time last year, I felt the same. I saw the ungifted as pawns a sorcerer uses when playing for status in the Coven." Jemeryl's hands slipped around Tevi's back and held her tight. Her next words were murmured into Tevi's shoulder. "You know, between Neame and you, I've learnt an awful lot."

A series of emotions chased across Tevi's face. She raised her arms to return Jemeryl's hug and her eyes caught sight of the tattoos on her hands. They brought a more prosaic problem to mind. "Does this mean we'll be in trouble when we get back to Lyremouth?"

"They can't blame you. You acted in good faith. If we return with the chalice and Levannue as prisoner, I guess they'll forgive us everything."

"That's a big if. She could be anywhere by now."

"We know she's not bound for the Protectorate, else why go north through the pass?"

"Is there any real hope we'll catch her?"

"We can try." Jemeryl sat back. "Don't overestimate her abilities. Magic removes some physical restrictions, but she's still an old woman. Even sorcerers don't find flying a practical mode of transport. I think she'll stick to travelling with caravans, they're slow but reliable, although she may have swapped route a dozen times by now."

"No. Probably not." Tevi said with sudden excitement. "From what I heard from the traders in Horzt, there's an established campsite by some ruins at the other side of the pass but, apart from that, there's no opportunity to change caravans before Uzhenek. With the speed wagons go, we should have no problem overtaking her before she gets there."

"Is that so?" Jemeryl weighed Tevi's words for a moment and then sighed. "Of course she might be stopped just north of the pass, using Lorimal's spell to create an enormous army of hideous monsters ready to sweep down on the Protectorate."

"In which case she won't be hard to locate." Tevi said with grim humour.

Jemeryl laughed and snuggled back against Tevi. "I guess there would be that advantage."

Tevi was silent for a while and then said, "I wonder what the really spell does, because... " She paused. "Has it struck you that, right from the beginning, the Coven leaders were more concerned with keeping the spell secret than they were with catching the traitor?"

Jemeryl chewed her lip thoughtfully. Tevi had a point.

*****

By the time they were ten miles north of Horzt, the landscape was noticeably drier. Dusty hollows pitted the crumbling soil of the path. Even in the sheltered valleys, the covering of trees was thinning out, giving way to matted gorse, bracken and bristling clumps of yellow spiky grass. The air was thinner too, and colder. On all sides, the mountains rose to new heights. The peaks were bare fists of rock punching the sky.

The late morning sun was on their backs as Tevi and Jemeryl followed a trail across an open expanse of moorland. Ahead of them, the bracken ended at a saddleback slung between two peaks. They paused at the crest. On the other side, the terrain plunged in a series of vertical steps, which sprouted around buttress-like folds on the mountainside. The Danor glittered white at the bottom of the gorge, twinned with the darker line of the wagon road. The drop was so sheer that the river seemed to pass directly beneath their feet.

Until this point, the route had been well-used and clearly marked. Faced with the precipitous descent, the path broke into a web of straggly goat-tracks that lurched off in all directions, as if the trail-makers had been unable to agree on the safest way to proceed.

Tevi followed each track with her eyes until it dropped out of sight. With a shake of her head, she turned to Jemeryl. "We've got to rejoin the main road. There probably isn't a best way down, but do you have any idea which might be the least worse?"

"Would it be unduly smug of me to point out that those if us who can fly are alright?" Klara observed from her perch on the saddle of Jemeryl's horse.

"Yes it would." Jemeryl said firmly.

Tevi looked at the magpie thoughtfully. "Could you use Klara to go ahead and check out the route?"

"I'll give it try, but I'd warn you that paths which look fine from the air are sometimes impassable on foot." Jemeryl's voice held little optimism but she scooped Klara onto her wrist, preparing to transfer her senses.

Tevi watched, intrigued. Jemeryl's eyes closed and the expression on her face froze and then faded. It was as if the air about the sorcerer thickened and stilled with the weight of the spell casting.

Without warning, the silence was broken by a shout from below. The sound ricocheted around the walls of the gorge. Jemeryl jerked out of her trance. Her eyes chased the echoes, however Tevi had already located the source and was urging her back from the exposed ridge, out of sight of the group of horsemen who had appeared over a fold on the hillside. The riders were more than a hundred yards away on their ascent of the steep cliff path, but closing in rapidly. They were clearly a militia patrol. Helmets glinted in the sun and the distinctive cloaks flapped in the breeze. The leader stood in the stirrups and called again. It was an assertive cry demanding attention, but not hostile - not yet.

"Jem, we've got to get away. We must try to outrun them. If Russ has returned to Horzt they may have my description. The guild members won't let me go free, not with the guild's integrity at stake."

"No. There's no need. I can take care of it. Come on. Get out of their way so they don't ride into us."

Jemeryl led the way towards a small knoll, twenty yards from the path. Her horse stepped high over the bracken. Tevi followed, towing the spare horse after her and looking around in despair. There was nothing in the way of cover on the open heath. The knoll was barely high enough to hide a cat and Jemeryl made no attempt to get behind it. She stopped to one side and turned to face the road. Her fingers started to trace elaborate patterns in the air.

Tevi brought her horse to a halt beside Jemeryl's and waited. Her mouth was dry and her eyes jumped between her sword hilt and the point on the skyline where the riders would appear. She tried to convince herself of her faith in Jemeryl's abilities but felt hopelessly exposed and vulnerable.

In a fury of pounding hooves and the clash of metal on metal, a score of militiamen exploded over the ridge and thundered down the trail. Almost immediately, their impetus started to fizzle out. One by one the militiamen pulled back so that, within seconds of their appearance, the charge collapsed in a confused melee. The lead rider reined in her horse and stared around. The open plateau provided no hiding place, yet her confused gaze passed straight through the spot where Tevi and Jemeryl were. From the body of the patrol came anxious queries.

"Where've they gone?"

"They were here, clear as anything against the sky."

"There's nowhere for them to be." An edge of panic tinged the voices.

In sudden comprehension, Tevi looked at Jemeryl's calm face. The sorcerer's hands were now motionless. Her eyes were glazed, focused on a world beyond the soldiers and the open heath. Tevi took a deep breath and forced her hands to unclench and accept Jemeryl's ethereal defence against the swords of the militia. She looked around, savouring the dream-like quality of the blue sky, the hills and the rough vegetation. It felt so very strange to stand on a bare hillside in broad daylight and know herself to be invisible.

"Meric. Come here. Examine the track and see if you can spot anything." The sergeant barked the order, trying to reinforce her command of the situation. It made little impression on the thin wiry scout who sat leaning forward in his saddle, a little way apart from the rest of the patrol.

"I don't need to look for footprints, I can see the same thing as you - the work of a sorcerer."

Despite his cynical words, the scout dropped lightly from his horse and walked a few yards along the track. He knelt and traced his fingers over the soil before raising his head to look out over the field of gorse. For a moment, his eyes fixed directly on the knoll.

He stood, faced his sergeant and shrugged. "There were three horses here, two with riders, but there ain't now. They might have taken wing and flown for all I can tell, or they might be standing by my elbow, invisible. There's nothing we can do."

His words did nothing to calm his colleagues. Several at the back shuffled nervously in their saddles.

Smiling at their discomfiture, the scout added, "I wouldn't worry. If the sorcerer wanted us dead we wouldn't be standing here now, calmly debating it."

The sergeant was clearly unhappy with the scout's assessment of the facts. She chewed her lip while making her decision. "Tadge, Elamis. Go back to the main road. Catch up with the lieutenant and report what we've seen. Tell him the rest of us will carry on." She snapped out the order and raised an arm to wave the rest of the patrol forward.

A cynical smile touched Tevi's face. She recognised the style of an officer who doesn't worry whether a command achieves anything worthwhile, as long as it is given and obeyed. From the expressions of the militiamen towards the back, Tevi was not alone in her opinion.

It was with obvious relief that the main body of the patrol followed their sergeant across the heath. The horsemen rode two abreast along the path. The sound of hooves and harness faded as they shrunk into the distance. Behind them, the two detailed militiamen waited until the others were well out of earshot.

"What good is telling the lieutenant? What can he do about a sorcerer?" the younger of the two asked bitterly, using a show of anger to hide her nervousness.

"I know what I'd like to do." The other said calmly.

"What?"

"If it's the same sorcerer as what dunked the mayor, I'd like to offer to buy her a drink."

A yelp of laughter met his words. "You and the rest of the militia."

"It certainly doesn't pay to make enemies you can't beat."

After a last jittery glance over the heath, the two militiamen wheeled their horses around and trotted back over the brow of the ridge. Jemeryl's head turned to follow them, though her eyes remained unfocused.

"Can you keep this up if we go after them? They probably know the best route down." Tevi asked quietly.

"As long as we don't get too close." Jemeryl's voice sounded oddly flat.

With the help of their unwitting guides, it proved reasonably easy to negotiate the steep descent. The route rose and fell and twisted down the hillside. Several times it seemed certain that a sheer drop would block their way, only for an unexpected side path to branch off at the last moment. As the top of the gorge rose above them, the sound of the Danor grew - an unceasing roar of white water cascading over the boulders. The last few yards of the descent were a steep gravel slide onto the road. The two militiamen turned south. With high shouts, they spurred their mounts into a gallop, raising a plume of dust behind them on the road.

Tevi and Jemeryl also made it to level ground. They watched as the militiamen disappeared from view around a towering column of rock. As the last echo faded, the two women turned their own horses north. The valley bottom was noticeably warmer than the exposed heath, though a chill breeze gusted between the sheer sides of the gorge and stirred the dust into smoke-like wisps that chased over the road.

Jemeryl was subdued. She rode with downcast eyes.

"What's wrong?" Tevi asked after a while of travelling in silence.

"The tattoos... some of that patrol were guild members." Jemeryl said, troubled.

"So?"

"Which means they're Protectorate citizens. I tampered with their perceptions. By all the rules of the Coven I'm not supposed to do that without their consent."

Tevi frowned slightly. "But they weren't hurt."

"It still counts as an abuse of power."

"Don't some sorcerers do things like that just to impress people?"

"Oh, all the time." Jemeryl agreed readily.

"So why are you upset? It's not as if you had any real choice."

"I know. "Jemeryl sighed. "I'm just not happy about it."

Klara rotated her head to stare at Jemeryl. "It's your own fault. I always warned if you started noticing the ungifted you'd go and develop a conscience."

*****

A field of stars hung in the clear black sky. The brilliance pierced the night with cold purity now that the moon had set behind the mountains. Jemeryl stood, arms folded, looking north. The terrain before her flowed away in ever fading ripples. It became a flat plain on the horizon - the northern grasslands. The mountain chain was not wide above Horzt, no more than twenty miles as the eagle might fly, though closer to fifty on the wagon route as it slipped from valley to valley.

Dusk had been falling when she and Tevi had reached the northern end of the pass. The spot was the site of extensive ruins. The last of the daylight had shown shattered, fire-blasted walls. People still lived on the site, though no more than one-twentieth part was occupied. They sheltered in rough hovels patched into the broken shells of buildings. With suspicious eyes, the surly inhabitants had watched the two women arrive. The folk traded with the caravans passing through, but only from necessity. The hostility of the local folk was not surprising; they had been noticed once by the outside world and now wanted only to be ignored.

Jemeryl sighed loudly. Her head sagged as she wandered back to the fireside. The camp was on the eastern edge of the ruins, well away from the inhabited section. The remains of the buildings in this area were too fragmentary for their original function to be stated with certainty. Jemeryl threw herself down by the campfire and stared into the flames.

In the starlight, the ruins looked tranquil, even picturesque, but Jemeryl had seen the walls torn apart and smashed by raw magic. They were a testament to a city that had died as a pawn in the power games of sorcerers. She could sense the imprint of magic, soaked into the cracked stones, deeper than the blood that rain and time had washed away.

Her brooding was disturbed by soft approaching footsteps. Tevi wove her way through the stumps of shattered masonry. Dog-like at her heels was a local man. He scurried along with anxious glances in all directions and shoulders hunched as if ready to ward off an attack. Jemeryl sat back and waited until both were seated, Tevi a little way to one side and the local directly opposite. His face was turned down so that he watched her through a straggling fringe of straw coloured hair.

"You want to know things." He spoke with a stilted monotone that left Jemeryl unsure of whether his words were meant as a statement or a question.

Jemeryl made an effort to keep her voice calm. "Yes, as my friend will have told you. A caravan passed through here three or four days ago, heading to Uzhenek. I am interested in one of the passengers."

"I remember it." the man muttered.

"I'm afraid you might only..." Jemeryl hesitated. She had been about to explain her intentions, but as she watched him rub the palms of his hands on his knees she realised the man was terrified. A word about magic would send him into flight. "Tell me everything you remember about the caravan on the day it left."

Jemeryl let her gaze drop to her hands clasped in her lap. She listened to his halting description, but her attention was fixed on the seething mass of his thoughts. Even as a sorcerer, Jemeryl could not read the man's mind. The human intellect was too transient and lost in convoluted contradictions to pick out a single thread, but it was not so hard to spot where it had been tampered with and memories altered or removed. Eventually, the local's mumbled sentences stuttered to a halt.

Jemeryl looked up, satisfied. "Do you know where the caravan was going?"

"Like you said, Uzhenek." His eyes flitted momentarily to her face.

"What can you tell me of the route?"

He shrugged.

"Is there a single trail they have to follow?" Jemeryl persisted.

"They can go where they like over the grasslands, except that the river Rzetoka can only be forded in three places."

"Which ford would the caravan use?"

The sharp shake of his head might have been a nervous twitch or an expression of denial. Either way, Jemeryl sensed she would get no further information from him. He almost bolted when Tevi leaned over to offer the few coins she had promised. He took the money as if he was frightened it would burn him and then leapt to his feet and rushed off into the thick shadows.

"Levannue left on the caravan?" Tevi asked.

"Yes. I'm certain of it."

"There doesn't seem much chance of running into her in the grasslands."

"Which might be just as well. We can get to Uzhenek first and wait for her. I'm sure she won't be expecting that."

Tevi slid around the fire to sit closer to Jemeryl with an apologetic look on her face. She gestured at the spot where the local had sat. "I don't know how bright he was, but he was the best I could find. It was incredibly difficult finding anyone willing to talk to you. The inhabitants are terrified of sorcerers."

"If you told people that that's what I am, I'm surprised you were able to find anyone. It's why I asked you to go on your own."

"It seems a bit excessive."

"They've got a reason."

"There's a story to these ruins?" Tevi guessed.

"Yes." Jemeryl's eyes fixed on the outlines of broken walls. "Two hundred years ago, this was a thriving city, built solely by the ungifted. It's virtually unique. The people here wouldn't tolerate anyone who could work magic. As soon as any child showed the slightest sign of being gifted, they were killed." Jemeryl's voice was hard. "It made for a stable society. It grew slowly, not like the overnight flowering of a sorcerer's empire, and it lasted nearly 150 years. In the end, it grew big enough to attract attention. A third-rate sorcerer, who'd been displaced by the Protectorate, heard of the city. She walked in here and took control. There was no one to stop her - they'd killed the only ones of their own folk who could have made a stand."

"As you said about the men on my islands - it sounds like poetic justice."

Jemeryl pouted. "Maybe - but not what happened after. The easy victory gave the sorcerer delusions about her own ability. She embarked on a forlorn attempt to expand her territory, which only succeeded in annoying a more powerful sorcerer off to the west. By the time the dust settled, virtually all the population were dead and the city was as you see it now." Jemeryl stared down at the ground. Three times her lips started to frame the start of her next sentence. "I used to think the people here got what they deserved. If I'd been born in this city I'd have been killed. But..." She raised her head. "Tevi, how do the citizens of the Protectorate really feel about sorcerers?"

"From what I can tell, they feel varying levels of unease and resentment coupled with varying levels of gratitude and respect."

"You must have heard some more specific views expressed."

"Oh yes, but I couldn't take them seriously. It's ridiculous to lump all sorcerers together. Some are okay and some aren't, much like any other group of people."

"But there's more to it. Being a sorcerer is so..."

Tevi interrupted by catching hold of her hand. "Supposing I were to ask you what women really think about men. Women on my home islands would have no trouble giving an answer on behalf of 'all women'. Of course, it would fall apart as soon as you tried probing, and if you compared what they said with how they acted, you'd realise they hadn't even got the answer right for themselves. But if I asked the question in the Protectorate, I'd only get blank stares. It would be a meaningless question. And it's like asking me about sorcerers. I don't have any strong emotional feelings about sorcerers in general, I only know how I feel about you." Tevi raised her hand to gently cup the side of Jemeryl's face. "I love you."

Chapter 4: The Empress Bykoda

The grasslands were the billowing contours of a green sea that rippled in the wind. Huge herds of deer and wild horses dotted the plain. The sky hung overhead like an upturned bowl of flawless blue. No landmark had broken the horizon since the Barrodens had sunk from view. The uniformity of the scenery gave the impression of not moving, although the miles rolled by beneath the horse's hooves. Swapping mounts allowed them to rest one horse at a time and increase their speed. The only sign of other travellers was the spreading fans of wheel ruts on either side of the Rzetoka ford. Even these were soon lost in the trackless grasses.

In late afternoon, nine days out from the ruins, Tevi and Jemeryl reached the brow of a low ridge. The land before them fell away into a broad river valley. Tevi shaded her eyes against the sinking sun. To the east, a dark smudge stained the green.

"I think that's Uzhenek." She pointed it out.

It took a while for Jemeryl to pick out the distant city. She grinned at Tevi. "I did a really good job with your eyes. Do you think we'll make it by nightfall?"

"Easily."

Once down the gentle incline, the two women urged the horses into a brisk canter across the flat valley floor. A pair of parallel furrows through the grass grew thicker and deeper as more tracks converged, becoming a road. After an hour's riding, the city was gaining depth and substance. The nearest buildings detached themselves from the confused mass, although the sun in their eyes reduced the shapes to washed outlines ringing a gentle hill.

They entered the outskirts of the city. On either side, the road was packed with an untidy line of shabby round huts made from rotting straw. Further from the highway, the structures became ever more primitive, until the crude shanties gave way to tents and horse pens. Decaying rubbish filled the spaces between the shelters. The place seemed more like a temporary encampment than a city.

Sprawled outside the miserable dwellings were large numbers of fair-haired men and women, gossiping among themselves or calling to neighbours. Their clothes were brightly coloured but filthy, bearing signs of much wear and repair. Many folk looked the worse for drink. Children ran shouting through the dust, dirty, half-naked and unkempt. Nobody paid any attention to the two women riding past.

The whole town held an air of bored lethargy. Only by the horse pens was there any real activity or display of enthusiasm. Groups hung around the rope barriers, voices raised loud in ardent bartering and betting. The horses alone looked clean and well cared for. What appeared to be several races were in progress on the plain beyond. Some onlookers even had the spirit to cheer their favourites.

Jemeryl was pleased. "We did very well. We must be days ahead of Levannue's caravan."

Tevi nodded, though her thoughts were on the scene around her. "Uzhenek isn't quite what I was expecting. The traders I met in Horzt spoke of it like the town was worth visiting. From what I can see, it comes a poor second to the rougher parts of Torhafn - and that's saying something."

"The traders would have been referring to the citadel, which I'm also looking forward to." Jemeryl grimaced at the squalid surroundings. "I'll agree this bit isn't too good."

"Why do the people stay here? There's no shortage of space and plenty of game to hunt. If I were them, I'd be out in the open country."

"It's safe and easy. The Empress Bykoda has ruled these parts for nearly fifty years. Before her time, these people were nomadic tribesmen - nomadic mainly because they were always fleeing one danger or another. After Bykoda made herself empress, she gave the region stability. And this is just an outlying town - her main capital is Tirakhalod to the north. She's got a reputation for being a despot, but no worse than most others of her ilk. Whatever it might be like now, the folk here will be worse off when she dies - which won't be much longer. She's getting old."

"What will happen to her empire then?" Tevi asked.

"Based on past experience, there will be a futile power struggle between several junior sorcerers before the whole place gets overwhelmed from outside. It will be an awkward time. Bykoda has been a good neighbour to the Protectorate."

The ground was rising as they approached the dark mass of the citadel, enthroned on its lonely hill. Tevi felt her mouth go dry when she studied the jagged battlements and high towers looming above the shantytown. By now, the road under the horse's hooves was paved with slabs of dressed stone, clean and weed free. The wretched press of huts ended abruptly and the two women emerged into the open, fifty or so yards from the gates of the citadel.

Black walls rose smoothly, without the trace of a join, as if carved from a single rock. Towering above all, the solid gatehouse stood foursquare and imposing. The teeth of the portcullis framed its open mouth.

Tevi felt a wave of awe wash over her. She reined her horse back. "It's a bit overwhelming." Her voice betrayed her in a squeak.

"Partly because of the glamour spell that Bykoda is projecting. I can lift it from you if you want." Jemeryl was gently amused.

Tevi shook her head at the offer. "Maybe later. At the moment I think it adds to the effect."

A dry moat, spanned by a bridge, separated the citadel from the straw huts. On both sides of the road leading to it was a line of tall wooden stakes. There were a dozen or so, each one mounted with a small round object. As she neared the first post, Tevi took her eyes from battlements, intending only a quick glance. A shock like a kick to the stomach jolted her in the saddle. Each pole bore a severed human head. Old blood, dried brown, stained the wood beneath the trophies. Tattered skin drooped in shreds from the necks. Slack jaws hung open.

After a long silence, Tevi said quietly, "On the islands we give fair burial even to enemies and criminals. You said Bykoda was a good neighbour. What are the rest like?"

"Worse." Jemeryl's voice was tight.

"She knows how to make an impression. Let's get inside the citadel - or is there likely to be more of the same?" Tevi coaxed her horse forward down the grotesque aisle.

The eyes of the first head snapped open. "I was a traitor. Do not do as I did. Be loyal to the empress Bykoda." The words were rasped between agonised gasps.

The head on the other side joined in. "I was a murderer. Do not follow my example. Obey the laws of the empress Bykoda."

At the sound of the first voice, Tevi stared around wildly until her eyes fixed on the talking head. Her lips pressed hard together, fighting down nausea. Her knuckles were white as she shook the reins, imploring her horse to continue.

However, Jemeryl came to a standstill, a look of questioning wonder on her face. "That's amazing." She slipped from her saddle and stepped up to the nearest head. "I would never have thought of doing that."

"Of course you wouldn't. It's foul." Tevi was appalled.

Jemeryl waved her hand. "No. I mean the technique. It would never have occurred to me to use the upspin currents of the sixth dimension like that."

"Jem!" Outrage battled with confusion in Tevi's voice.

Jemeryl was too intent on the impaled head to respond. The sorcerer raised a forefinger to the chanting lips. As sharply as if the strings of a puppet had been cut, the confession stopped mid-word and the semblance of life vanished. The features sagged, so flaccid as to lose the bearing of humanity. An alarm sounded from beyond the gate.

Tevi leapt from her horse and grabbed Jemeryl's elbow, jerking her back to the present. Sounds from the gatehouse alerted them to the guards spilling onto the bridge, swords drawn. Tevi's hand started to move to her own weapon.

A quick shake of the head from Jemeryl stopped her. "They won't attack if we don't do anything else to alarm them."

"We?" Tevi's emphasis held a reprimand.

"I'm sorry, I got carried away." Jemeryl apologised.

"I thought we didn't want to attract attention."

"I know, I'm sorry."

The guard formed a line, two deep, across the width of the bridge. They marched forward in formation to make a cordon around the two women. Their movements were precisely synchronised without audible word of command. The footsteps fell as one. When they finally snapped to attention, the soldier's faces were frozen, inhumanly devoid of emotion. Even to Tevi's ungifted eyes, it was obvious they were enslaved.

"What do we do now?" she hissed at Jemeryl.

"I think we wait."

"Until?"

Jemeryl gave a shrug. "Someone with a brain to call their own gets here."

*****

It seemed like hours before an official, dressed in black and silver, appeared at the gates. He studied the scene for a few seconds before walking sedately towards the group assembled on the road. With precise, mechanical movements, the line of guards parted at his approach. Tevi was ignored. The official stopped before Jemeryl and gave a curt formal bow.

"Greetings Sorcerer. I am town steward for the empress Bykoda. Her imperial majesty wishes to speak with you."

"Please, lead the way." Jemeryl answered as if nothing unusual had occurred.

No further words were offered. The steward returned across the bridge at an unhurried but purposeful pace. It was clearly taken for granted that Tevi and Jemeryl would follow obediently and not cause trouble. The three horses were left by the gatehouse but no attempt was made to remove their weapons. None of the guards were called on to accompany them.

Inside the walls, the reasons for Uzhenek's reputation became obvious. The road through the citadel was paved with slabs of soft blue light. The buildings rose in delicate tiers. The structures were too ethereal to be capable of supporting their own weight. It was architecture that could only be created by magic.

The citadel was beautiful but Tevi was too appalled by the scene outside the gates to take any pleasure from it. Above all else, it was Jemeryl's reaction to the undead heads that tore at her. She walked along, her eyes fixed on her feet. In the past she had often been bewildered by her lover's abilities, but never before had she felt alienated. If asked beforehand, she would have staked her life that Jemeryl would be as horrified as herself.

At first, Jemeryl was absorbed in the sights. When she did notice Tevi's withdrawn manner she clearly misunderstood. "Don't worry, we're not in danger. Bykoda isn't about to get into unnecessary conflict with the Coven, even if I did break one of her toys." Jemeryl whispered.

Tevi could not help flinching at the word 'toy'. From Jemeryl's tone, it might have been a row of daffodils outside the gates.

Jemeryl carried on, oblivious. "I'm a bit surprised if she's actually here in the city. I didn't think she'd left Tirakhalod for years."

"What will she want?" Tevi forced herself to speak.

"Probably just to know why I'm here. It will be alright if I tell her the truth. A renegade Coven sorcerer is the last thing she'll want running around. Bykoda will be more than glad to take up my offer to remove Levannue from her lands."

"As long as she's not in league with Levannue."

"Unlikely. She would have to trust Levannue not to usurp her empire, and Bykoda hasn't survived for as long as she has by trusting anyone."

The steward led the way through another set of gates. The top of the hill was a bare field of rock, devoid of a single blade of grass. Crouched at the very summit, was an immense round building, obviously styled on the huts of the townsfolk but dwarfing them in scale. It was carved from the same black rock as the city walls. A circle of flying buttresses ringed the hall, like articulated legs. It gave the impression of a huge black spider, brooding and waiting. A broad flight of stairs swept up to the entrance in a small domed extenuation at the front of the main building. It looked like a head and added to the spider effect. Jemeryl's attention was caught again and she broke off her words, leaving Tevi to her bitter reflection.

The interior of the anteroom was lit from an unseen source that cast more shadow than light over walls and floor of polished black marble. Shapes in carved relief on the pillars were lost in the darkness, leaving no more than the idea of interwoven swirls. Tall guards stood on duty everywhere. Straight-ahead, were huge double doors of embossed silver, which swung open of their own accord. Jemeryl strode forward, unworried. At first, Tevi held back at the thought of what might await them but, despite her confusion and distress, she was not going to let Jemeryl face it alone.

The scale of the main hall was breathtaking. The circle of pillars that ringed the perimeter faded away into the gloom on the far side. Interspersed alternately were silent, black-clad guards and silver tripods holding burners. Heavy plumes of incense billowed in shafts of milky daylight. The window were high in the dome. The centre of the hall was empty, except for a raised dais where the silver statue of an elderly woman sat on a simple throne.

The steward halted just beyond the pillars and indicated that Jemeryl should carry on. When Tevi began to follow, the steward reached out to stop her. She threw off the restraining hand but was then swamped by uncertainty and settled for taking another three steps. She watched uneasily as Jemeryl walked on alone.

A dozen paces before the dais, Jemeryl came to a stop and rotated through 360 degrees. She appeared intrigued rather than impressed. As she came around to face the statue again, a faint sound, like a sigh, came from its lips. Slowly, joint by joint, a tremor of articulation rippled through the silver figure.

With the most deliberate of movements, the statue raised its head and spoke. "Greetings sorcerer. I am a projection of the Empress Bykoda, the unquestioned ruler and high sorcerer of these lands from the Barroden mountains to the gulf of Czeskow. Might I be privileged as to know your name?"

"I am Jemeryl, oath-bound sorcerer of the Coven of Lyremouth." She gave a short formal bow.

"From Lyremouth?" The statue's voice held the merest suggestion of a question. "I hold the Coven and its Guardian in high regard and trust we may always maintain the convivial relationship between our two lands. Do you come from Lyremouth as an envoy?"

"No, that is not my mission. In fact, when I left Lyremouth it was not envisaged that I would come here. Yet, I know the Guardian would want me to express her appreciation of you and your courteous dealings with the Coven, that has been to our mutual benefit."

The words of both sorcerers, while not exactly insincere, reminded Tevi of the initial exploratory parries of fencers.

Bykoda's next question was more direct. "May I enquire about the nature of the mission that has brought you to my lands?"

"It need cause no concern to you, or any of your subjects. One of our sorcerers has turned traitor. I think she may have fled here."

"How disconcerting for you. What do you intend to do once you find her?"

"Capture her with the minimum of fuss and return with her to Lyremouth."

"If you wanted to take her by surprise, you made a rather conspicuous entrance to the citadel."

For the first time, Jemeryl looked off balance. "It's unlikely that she will yet have reached here, but I admit my behaviour was unwise."

"Upsetting me was certainly not a good first move."

"Please accept my apologies." Jemeryl paused for a moment, before her enthusiasm broke through in a blatantly genuine rush of words. "I'm afraid I totally forgot myself when I saw your warders outside. It was an inspired use of the upspin currents. I've never seen anything like it before. The idea was elegantly simple, yet very effective. I was impressed, really, deeply impressed."

The statue's laughter echoed around the hall. Tevi could tell the atmosphere changed subtly, as if a decision had been made, or a truce called. Jemeryl stood more easily.

"Spoken like a true Coven sorcerer. Too busy playing with magic to keep sight of your goal."

Jemeryl sighed ruefully. "I fear you're right on this occasion. I was overwhelmed by admiration. I just had to know how you made it work."

"You think I could teach the Coven a few tricks?" The statue's voice was lightly ironic.

"I think you could teach the Coven a lot, if you were willing."

"And what could the Coven give me in return?"

"What does the Coven have that you want?"

"Nothing."

"Then we have no basis for a trade."

The statue was silent for a while. "When I was younger, I thought the Coven sorcerers fools or cowards, running at the beck and call of the ungifted. Now that I'm getting older, it doesn't seem so clear cut. I wonder if I might have missed something - not that I'd change a thing if I had to do it all over again. 'Empire' is a wonderful game to play. You live and die by your own strength and skill; no rules and no boundaries."

"We all make our own choices."

"Or maybe it's that not everyone enjoys playing the same game. And some people expend so much effort failing to reach the strangest of goals. You might almost think they are frightened of winning." The statue tilted its head to one side and studied Jemeryl thoughtfully. "I would have said you had the talent to win. I just wonder what game you're playing in the Protectorate."

"Such as?" The initial verbal fencing had returned to Jemeryl's voice.

"You may be motivated by concern for your fellow human-beings. Or you may get satisfaction from working for something that will exist long after you're dead and buried." The statue's tone became more pointed. "Or maybe you dream of being Guardian one day and having hundreds of powerful sorcerers under your rule, rather than merely the ungifted masses."

"Maybe." Jemeryl made the word sound more like agreement than equivocation.

"It's an interesting prize to play for." the statue said thoughtfully.

"But not one that has tempted you?"

The statue shook its head. "It's too restricted a game for my tastes. I never could stomach playing by other people's rules, biding my time and keeping my nose clean. I'd have ended up like this poor fool you're chasing, who hasn't toed the line and is about to be dragged back to Lyremouth for punishment like a naughty child. She has my deepest sympathy - but don't worry, I'm not going to try and stop you. I'd be a fool to let her stay here. I've never let pity cloud my better judgement. I'll even offer you assistance. My steward will give you a talisman. Show it to anyone in the city and they will let you pass without hindrance. Although, of course, I will be watching you."

"Thank you." Jemeryl hesitated, biting her lip. "I suppose you wouldn't want me to examine the heads again. I really am fascinated to know how you do it."

The statue laughed again. "Capture your traitor and remove her from my lands. Then, if you want, come to me at Tirakhalod and I will instruct you."

The laughter drifted away, muted and hollow, as if coming from a great distance. The life drained out of the statue in a visible wave, leaving a frozen silver shell sitting in state in the middle of the empty hall. The audience was ended.

*****

Tevi and Jemeryl were escorted to a solid hostelry by the southern gates of the citadel. The rooms were large and well furnished, to the point of being a gratuitous display of wealth. Even the carved doorstop had inlays of gold and mother-of-pearl. Stony-faced servants brought their saddlebags and other belongings. The same servants made ready the room with clean bedding, fresh water for washing and wine to drink, and then, without a word spoken, they bowed and left.

Once they were alone, Jemeryl opened the window to admire the view of shimmering turrets and delicate archways. The light flowed over the rooftops with a subtle rainbow sheen. Tevi was quiet and withdrawn. She dropped down onto a cushioned bench and stared at the panelled walls.

"What to you think of Uzhenek now?" Jemeryl asked over her shoulder; her voice bubbled with excitement. When there was no answer, she turned around. "Are you alright?"

Tevi shrugged.

"Tevi, what's wrong?" Jemeryl left the window. She slid onto the bench and put her arm around Tevi's shoulder.

"I'm reconsidering my views about sorcerers." Tevi spoke without turning her head.

"Why? Was there something about Bykoda that upset you?"

"And you."

"ME!" Jemeryl was shocked. "Tevi?"

"I've been thinking about all the wealth inside the citadel, and then what's outside. Not just the heads - the stinking poverty in the camp and the guards not even free to use their own minds. It's worse than slavery. For the first time, it made me see the gulf between sorcerers and the rest of us. And you and Bykoda seemed so much a pair."

"Nearly all of the citadel is pure illusion, a play with coloured lights to impress the ungifted. There's no real wealth here. If you could see this room without the overlay of magic, it's actually rather plain and shabby. And I don't agree with the way Bykoda rules her lands but I couldn't allow myself the luxury of moralising. It wouldn't have done any good and I had to get her support."

"You were full of admiration for the way she keeps the heads alive. You didn't seem to see them as people, just an interesting use of magic. It is evil and callous. I just don't understand you, Jem."

Jemeryl reached out and pulled Tevi's face around so their eyes met. "They weren't real heads. They were fashioned from soft resin - not that I think Bykoda would have hesitated to use real ones if it was the only way to achieve her aim, but the resin would avoid any problems with decay. Bykoda was using a very original way to animate the shapes. That was what surprised me. There was no savagery involved. Nobody was hurt. Wanton cruelty is usually a sign of madness or insecurity, and Bykoda isn't either."

"You wanted to learn how to copy her - why?" Tears started to Tevi's eyes. "To frighten people into obeying you?"

"Partly because it's so inventive, and partly because I thought it might be possible to use the technique to make artificial limbs. It could be useful to your colleagues in the guild - they're so good at loosing the ones they were born with." Jemeryl spoke very softly. "Please Tevi, I know it must be hard sometimes, but trust me."

Tevi's distress gave way to confusion. "Why didn't you say before?"

"I'm sorry. I forgot that you couldn't see things for what they were."

There was silence for a long while. Tevi shifted around and rested her head on Jemeryl's shoulder. There was comfort in the contact, although some nasty questions still pricked the edges of her mind. One in particular slivered to the front.

"Was it also true what Bykoda said - you're only in the Coven so you can become Guardian one day?" Tevi mumbled the question. "And the only reason you want to be Guardian is so you get to order other sorcerers around, because the ungifted don't count for anything?"

"It was once... to some extent." Jemeryl admitted. "And I do still want to be Guardian. Bykoda is very astute. But it isn't the only thing that motivates me, and there are some prices I wouldn't pay to achieve it."

"Do ungifted people, the Protectorate citizens, really matter to you?"

"I can't pretend to care passionately for millions of people I've never met, and I don't believe you do either. However, I can honestly say that I wish them well and will always try to do my best for them."

Tevi closed her eyes, and pushed the other nagging doubts away. "I guess that's the best we ungifted can hope for from our sorcerers."

"I could give you another, more specific thought about me, empires and one particular ungifted person."

"What?"

Jemeryl pulled Tevi into a tight embrace. "How about that I'd happily swap all Bykoda's empire for one night in your arms?"

*****

Tevi rested her elbows on the parapet of the wall and considered the view. Just below the balcony where she stood with Jemeryl, a fountain shot brilliant plumes of coloured spray into the air. The water was faintly luminous in the encroaching dusk. Musical chimes sounded as the breeze stirred trees with leaves of gold and silver.

"Could you create a city to look like this?" Tevi asked. It was something she had wondered several times over the previous six days, while they had been waiting for Levannue.

"I could copy it, but it would be a lot of work for something I've got no use for. Even Bykoda has it only for show. It keeps the tribes awe-struck and submissive. It couldn't support a population like a city in the Protectorate. No more than a hundred people actually live in the citadel, and they're here purely to deal with visitors." Jemeryl swept her arm to indicate the whole expanse. "Only five or six buildings in the whole place really exist."

"It's still very pretty."

"I find it disconcerting. I keep seeing through the illusions. Even where the basic structure is real, the work is crudely functional. Bykoda just overlays a glamour of luxury and she doesn't do it very thoroughly. In the Protectorate, we're used to working for an audience of other sorcerers so we take the trouble to carry the illusion through other dimensions and tidy up the edges. Bykoda doesn't bother with all of that. Most of her work looks appallingly slipshod to me, but then other bits are breathtakingly imaginative".

"Like her audience hall?"

Jemeryl gave a snort of laugher. "Maybe not that."

"What was wrong with it?"

"Oh, the illusion was up to the quality of the rest of Uzhenek, but it was a child's fantasy of a necromancer's castle. I'm only surprised she didn't have a pet griffin by her feet and a row of hooded priests chanting in the background."

"Well, speaking on behalf of the ungifted, it was overpowering." Tevi said, grinning. "Is there anything here that is real?"

Jemeryl moved to an adjacent balcony with a view of the land beyond the outer wall. Farmland and orchards stretched down to the banks of the river on the western side of the city.

Jemeryl pointed to the fields. "That is. Bykoda organises the tribesmen to do the work, then uses her magic to control the irrigation system. She inhibits the growth of weeds, destroys pests and ensures a bumper crop each year. That's why there's an encampment outside. Here, the tribes can find safety and abundant food and water... and they also provide a ready army should Bykoda need it."

Tevi shaded her eyes to study the fields of stubble where corn had been harvested. However, any further questions were curtailed when Klara swooped down to land on her shoulder.

"A wagon train has just reached the outskirts of the encampment. Unless you want to hang around and shake her hand, perhaps you should get out of sight before Levannue sees you." the magpie said.

The two women hurried back to their room. Jemeryl threw herself onto a couch. "Wait here. I'm going to transfer my senses to Klara. I want to be sure Levannue is on the caravan."

"Can't you send Klara on her own?"

"I could, but I'll feel happier if I'm there myself."

Klara settled on Jemeryl's arm. Bird and sorcerer locked eyes. Between one breath and the next, Jemeryl became motionless and dropped into a state beyond mere sleep. Klara twitched her head, as if trying to dislodge an itch from the back of her neck and then she extended her wings and flew to the open window.

She perched on the ledge and looked back into the room. "Wish me luck."

"Take care Jem."

"I will."

The magpie departed in a flash of black and white. In the quiet that followed, Tevi paced the room, pausing repeatedly to look at the comatose sorcerer. The shadows in the chamber thickened. In the distance were sounds of voices, the creek of wooden wheels and the clop of hooves. Cautiously, Tevi peered from behind the edge of the window shutter. Wagons were stopped at the end the street and surrounded by workers who were unharnessing the horses and dragging loads from the tailboards. Tevi could not pick out Levannue's nervous gait among the people moving about in the gathering dusk.

She walked back to a chair and sat down beside Jemeryl's motionless body. It was impossible to relax. With each passing minute, the knots in her stomach grew tighter. Her heart almost leapt up her throat at the sound of something rushing into the room behind her. Tevi spun about. It was only Klara reappearing at the window. On the couch beside her, Jemeryl opened her eyes and sat up.

"She's here."

*****

"I wish to see the innkeeper immediately."

It took only a quick glance at the talisman to send the night porter scuttling off across the dimly lit lobby, his bland, youthful face comic in its overdrawn display of alarm. The rapid patter of his footsteps faded down an unlit passageway and was replaced by cold, tense silence.

Tevi watched the stocky figure disappear. "The talisman certainly gets a response. I wonder what its significance is?"

"We're probably happier not knowing." Jemeryl's voice was clipped.

"You sound worried."

"Of course. Levannue is far more experienced than me and I can't see her surrendering quietly. Plus, I'm handicapped in that I feel duty-bound to try and capture her alive, while I'm sure she won't feel anything like the same restraint with me."

"You said you'd be able to cope with her." It was a plea for reassurance.

"I should - if I've got a staff in hand and she hasn't, and I get surprise on my side."

"She's returned to her true form; that must mean she isn't expecting us."

"Or maybe she now has good reason to be confident." Jemeryl countered grimly.

Tevi did not want to think about the possibility. She set off on a circuit of the lobby. After pausing to peer suspiciously into the dark opening that had swallowed the porter, she finally stopped at the main door.

Night was now well advanced. The Uzhenek display of sculptured light had softened to a warm, fluorescent glow. Streets and courtyards were deserted, but high above the rooftops, the silhouettes of sentries paced the battlements. As she watched their slow procession, Tevi wondered whether the bodies and masonry were real or illusory.

Whispers and the sound of footsteps announced the return of the night porter, trailing in the wake of an older man, so like him as to surely be his father. Both were thickset, with round flat faces and fair hair pulled back in braids. The main difference was that the son's muscle had turned to flab in the father. Red bleary eyes further impaired the older man's appearance. He was still in the process of tying a long robe over his bulging waist as he entered the lobby. He wobbled to a halt a few feet from Jemeryl and eyed her and the talisman with alarm.

"Can I help you ma'am?" he said, gulping audibly.

"You are the innkeeper?"

"Yes ma'am."

"An elderly woman is lodging with you. She arrived this evening. Thin, about my height, with short grey hair. You may even have noticed her wearing an amulet like this..." Jemeryl held up arm so that her sleeve slipped down. "Although she was probably keeping her wrist covered."

"Yes ma'am, I know who you mean." The innkeeper's anxiety increased visibly at the sight of Jemeryl's amulet. He would have dealt with enough travellers from the Protectorate to be aware of its meaning.

"I want you to lead us to her room." Jemeryl fixed the man with a grim stare. "But very, very quietly. It would be best if she didn't hear us coming. Do you understand?"

"Yes ma'am."

The innkeeper looked as if he understood only too well. His whole body was twitching as he led the way along a wide corridor. Light from the lantern he held lurched wildly through the darkness beneath the vaulted ceiling, magnifying the shaking of his hands. Tapestries on the walls gleamed with rich colour where the light fell, but the shadows in the folds dissected the pictures, leaving a montage of heads, arms and half-animals.

The innkeeper stopped outside a door. He pointed to it with an over-dramatic gesture and then nearly tripped in his haste to back away. His clumsy retreat drew fierce glares from both women.

Jemeryl stood in front of the door and studied it intently. The fingertips of one hand traced the edge of the frame, without making contact with the wood while her other hand held her iron-tipped staff level with her eyes. As her examination progressed, the frown deepened on her face. At last, she drew back and indicated, with a sharp jerk of her head, that Tevi and she should go back to the lobby to talk.

"What's wrong?" Tevi asked once they were there.

"The door is barred on the inside. That wouldn't be a problem in itself, but Levannue has placed alarms across the higher dimensions. I can't open the door by magic without alerting her."

"Are you going to break the door down?" The innkeeper hovered nervously to one side. Both women ignored him.

Tevi gazed back up the corridor. "I suppose she's locked the windows as well."

"We could go outside and check, but I'm sure she will have."

"And there wouldn't be a wide chimney, or anything like that?" Tevi looked at the innkeeper as she spoke.

"No, we don't have fires. Bykoda herself heats the inn directly by her magic arts. She..." The innkeeper got no further.

Jemeryl interrupted. "Impossible! Do you think I wouldn't know if Bykoda was shunting that sort of load through the sixth dimension all the way from Tirakhalod. Don't be stupid. They'd probably sense it in Lyremouth."

The remnants of the innkeeper's composure dissolved. "It's not proper magic..." His squeaky voice failed. "I'm not supposed to tell visitors."

"What?"

The innkeeper's eyes darted to the talisman "The floor is raised on short pillars. We've got a fire in the stoke room and hot air is drawn through underneath. The whole inn gets heated without any trace of a fireplace. We like visitors to think it's magic. In winter, the fire burns continually but at this time of year we let it go out at night, otherwise if you touched the floor you'd feel the warmth."

Tevi knelt and rested her fingers on the ground, as if testing his words, but her thoughts were moving on. She picked at the join between two flagstones and then looked up at the innkeeper. "Would you have a crowbar to hand?"

"You're thinking we could get in that way?" Jemeryl asked while the innkeeper still stared blankly at Tevi.

"Well I could. Once I'm below Levannue's room I'll be able to push up from underneath. Would it upset the alarms if I then opened the door to let you in?"

"No, only magic will trip the wards."

"The floor-stone will be much too heavy for you to lift." The innkeeper's words seemed to escape his mouth against his will.

"That will be my problem." Tevi said.

"But..."

"We would like a crowbar." Jemeryl's statement left no room for argument.

The innkeeper's son was dispatched. He reappeared shortly, bearing a long metal bar, wedged at one end. The innkeeper fluttered around indecisively. There was no mistaking his relief when told to stay in the lobby.

Tevi and Jemeryl returned to Levannue's door. The flagstones of the floor were of nearly a yard square. To Tevi's eyes, they appeared to be of close fitting limestone, polished to marble, the work of a skilled craftsman. To her surprise, Jemeryl, had no trouble inserting the flat end of the crowbar.

"You did that by magic?" Tevi whispered, looking anxiously at the doorway.

"No - as I said before, the workmanship isn't really very good. I can see around Bykoda's attempt to hide the cracks." Jemeryl's face held a wry grin.

Tevi took over with the crowbar. The flagstone shifted with a dull pop and then rose to the faint grinding of grit. Once it was high enough to get her fingers under, Tevi lifted the flagstone clear and rested it against the wall behind.

Warm air rushed out of the hole, carrying the rich smell of wood-smoke. Beneath the flagstones, a forest of stubby stone pillars stretched off in all directions, disappearing into the pitch-black void. Between the ground and the raised flooring, was a gap of over a foot. Tevi studied the crooked avenue of pillars leading under Levannue's room, then slid her feet and legs into the opening.

As she was about to lie back, Jemeryl reached out to squeeze her shoulder. "Take care."

Tevi smiled stoically in reply.

The ground and pillars were hot to the touch. It was not enough to cause burns, although the smoky, heated air stung Tevi's eyes. Space was tight. The gap between the supporting pillars was barely wide enough to allow the passage of Tevi's shoulders. The ground was too rough to slide over. It was slow progress, fought for inch by inch, wriggling worm-like on her back. The light vanished as she moved away from the entrance hole. In the dark underworld, all sense of distance was lost.

Tevi kept a hand on underside of the flagstones. It felt as if they had expanded to several times their true size. Tevi's sweat-drenched clothes clung to her. The thick air rasped in her throat with each breath. She tried to focus on her task, but Tevi felt a bubbling hysteria that threatened to break into her sanity. In the back of her mind, a voice screamed that she was trapped, buried alive without even the room to roll over. Tevi fought to ignore it.

At last, Tevi felt the joint marking the start of the fifth stone - four hard-won yards. It was far enough from the wall of Levannue's room to be clear of any furniture around the edge. Tevi braced her hands against the paving above and pushed. The stone did not budge. Suddenly, Tevi was desperate to be out of the suffocating, claustrophobic prison. She pushed again, borrowing strength from the rising wave of panic. This time, the flagstone shifted slightly - the promise of escape.

A second, strenuous effort let in a rush of cold air to play over the sweat on Tevi's face. A thin line of moonlight, dazzling after the darkness, broke along the crack and then widened into an open expanse of night. No sound came from the room above. Abruptly, Tevi's imagination pictured Levannue, standing in the chamber, silently watching the moving flagstone.

Tevi pushed away the taunting fantasy. There was no going back. She braced her knees against the underside of the flagstones for purchase and raised her shoulders off the ground, her arms locked rigid. It strained every muscle in her legs and stomach. To her ears, the scratching of stone on stone seemed deafening, even louder than the pounding of her heart.

Tevi found she was inside a large room, some way to the left of the door. Moonlight flowed in through a pair of tall windows, throwing the ornate furniture into silver relief and shimmering off the drapes around a huge four-poster bed. Just as Tevi started to relax, a sound from the behind the curtains ruptured the silence - a raw sound, swelling in volume, to a low feral growl. Every muscle in Tevi's body jerked but, after a moment more, her lips pulled back in a mirthless grin, mocking her own nervousness. She recognised the sound as heavy human snoring. To Tevi's right, was a fur rug, an ideal cushion on which to lay the flagstone with the minimum of noise - once she managed to loosen her fingers from their death-like grip.

The bolts on the door made only the faintest, metallic squeak as Tevi eased them back in their mountings. When the door was pulled open, the hinges made a similar sound. From the expression on Jemeryl's face, it was clear that the long wait in the corridor had held its own strains. Jemeryl clasped Tevi's hand, before digging an iron collar out of a bag on her hip. She passed it over.

The rasping snores did not falter. Jemeryl met Tevi's eyes for a last supportive exchange. She moved resolutely towards the bed, gesturing for Tevi to take up position on the other side. Cautiously, they pulled back the curtains. In the centre of the bed, Levannue lay encased in folds of sheets and blankets. Her head was completely hidden between large round pillows. It would not be easy to locate her neck. It was hard even to be certain which way up she was. Tevi was struck by a simpler solution to the problem of dealing with the traitor, involving the use of a sword, but killing in cold blood did not fit well with her conscience.

On the other side of the bed, Jemeryl held her staff above the sleeping woman and looked over, waiting for Tevi to signal her readiness. Instead, Tevi shook her head and mimed the words, "Where's her neck?"

Jemeryl frowned as she studied the sleeping sorcerer. Their plans depended on catching Levannue by surprise, preferably without waking her. They certainly could not afford the time to scrabble about in the bedclothes.

Jemeryl reached out to gently shake Levannue's shoulder with one hand. "Excuse me for disturbing you, ma'am, but Bramell wants to see you right away." Jemeryl spoke with a servant's deference.

"What..."

Lost between dreams and reality, Levannue pushed herself up in the bed. Her eyes searched about wildly until they fixed with disbelief on Jemeryl and the staff in her hand. Suddenly, Levannue's body seized, freezing with a visible wrench, as if time had missed a step.

"Now Tevi!" Jemeryl called, her voice straining with the effort.

Tevi sprung forward, diving across the jumbled bedding with the open jaws of the iron collar held before her. The air felt viscous, heavy with the field of Jemeryl's spell clamping down on her victim.

Tevi did not need to be a sorcerer to sense Levannue fighting back, tearing through the ether to rip at the bonds that held her. The air changed to static. The hair on Tevi's arms stood upright and the smell of ozone filled her nose. Levannue's hand shot out and Jemeryl stumbled, half falling. The staff slipped from her hands as Levannue broke free of the spell - but too late. Before the dropped staff had hit the floor, Tevi had snapped the two halves of the collar shut around Levannue's neck.

Chapter 5: The Ruins of Graka

Stars still shone undimmed but the black sky was yielding to the first shades of blue. The shadows were starting to soften. To one side of the inn, stables were set around a small courtyard. The warm smell of hay and animals countered the predawn chill. Jemeryl and Tevi escorted Levannue to the three horses tethered in one corner. The porter and innkeeper trailed behind, bearing Levannue's hastily collected belongings. Tevi held the stirrup as the prisoner mounted and then tied her hands securely to the saddle. At one side, Jemeryl knelt to rifle through the baggage.

"I want to be sure there's nothing nasty in here. It all..." Jemeryl's voice trailed off.

"What is it?" Tevi asked.

Jemeryl pulled out a chalice. "Do you recognise this?"

Tevi took the chalice from Jemeryl's hands. Her finger ran slowly over the remembered pattern of small dents that distorted the rim. "Yes. This is it." Tevi's voice was no more than a whisper.

"So, you may get to complete your quest after all."

A succession of emotions chased across Tevi's face. "It might be best if I don't." She spoke softly, almost sadly.

The innkeeper's relief at their departure was unmistakable. He dithered outside his inn as they rode away, his need to be certain they were gone battling his urge to run away and hide. The three women passed through empty streets on their way to the southern gate of the citadel. They saw no one until the solid bulk of the gatehouse loomed before them. Even at that early hour, a full compliment of vacant-eyed sentries stood watch. Jemeryl held out Bykoda's talisman. Immediately, the guards unbarred the gate. Tevi felt her face grimace with abhorrence at the soldier's mechanical movements that were as devoid of true life as the walls around her.

Dawn was breaking as the riders emerged onto the open road. The southern approach to Uzhenek was less populated than the east, where they had entered. Only a scattering of shoddy huts littered the scene. Beyond them, were cultivated fields leading down on the river. The road crossed the dark, sluggish water on a solid and very real looking bridge before dividing on the far bank.

Jemeryl reined in her horse at the junction and looked back. Thin bands of golden cloud lined the horizon. The pink flush in the eastern sky was reflected in the citadel walls. Graceful spires and turrets caught the first of the dawn light. Soft ripples of colour washed over the buildings.

"Isn't that an amazing way to deconstruct transient cross-flow!"

Tevi laughed at Jemeryl's tone of wonder. "I'm afraid I haven't got a clue what you mean and I doubt you'll have much luck getting any show of enthusiasm from Levannue."

No word came from the prisoner. Levannue had hardly spoken since her capture. The collar was clearly troubling her. She rode with her eyes fixed on the middle distance and an expression of strained disbelief on her face.

"I guess you're right." Jemeryl conceded. "I'll save my praise until I meet Bykoda in person when I return. I want to learn whatever she's willing to teach. That's the road to Tirakhalod." She indicated the wider fork, heading north, with deep ruts gouged by the passage of carts. Jemeryl's eyes fixed on the point where it faded from view. She then turned away and urged her horse onto the smaller western track. "But first it's back to Lyremouth. This will link with the Old West Road to the pass above Denbury. Once there, we can catch a barge down the river Lyre."

Jemeryl set off across the featureless plain with the sun creeping into the sky behind her. Levannue's horse trotted forward to go two abreast.

Tevi fell in behind. Several times, she glanced back over her shoulder at the road to Tirakhalod. For her, it was a relief to be out of Uzhenek and heading back to the Protectorate with Levannue as prisoner. She had seen enough of Bykoda's empire. Jemeryl had not discussed her plans for the future and Tevi had chosen not to ask, unsure of what part she would be allowed, or wanted, to play. Yet, there were decisions to be made and they were not going to be simple. Tevi's eyes fixed on Jemeryl, full of doubt, but then they shifted back to Levannue and her face hardened. When Levannue was safely delivered to Lyremouth, there would be time consider her options.

*****

That evening, they camped on the open plains under a translucent new moon in a pale blue sky. A sharp wind blew from the north. It surged through the long grass in hissing waves and snapped at the campfire made from knots of grass and dried dung. The horses grazed nearby. Beyond them, an immense herd of shaggy, cow-like animals shuffled through the dusk. Apart from the track, there was no sign of other human life. Uzhenek lay many miles behind them - a fair day's journey, but one planned not to push the horses too hard. It was a long ride to Denbury, with no chance to swap mounts until then.

Jemeryl and Tevi talked of routine matters, their speech inhibited by the sullen presence of Levannue. She sat a few yards off, listening to what was said but making no attempt to join in. Her expression had settled into one of resentful scorn.

As true dark fell, Tevi shook out the blankets and made ready to cover the fire with cut turf. She looked at the prisoner. "What about keeping watch? Should we take turns?"

Jemeryl shook her head. "No need. The horses are mind-locked so they won't wander and won't let Levannue get within twenty yards without one of us present. And Klara's been asleep on my saddle all day; she can stand sentry. She'll wake me if Levannue sends so much as a filthy look in our direction."

"If Klara does that, on today's evidence, you won't get much sleep." Tevi said, grinning.

"True. I don't think Levannue is our friend at the moment."

This finally provoked an outburst from Levannue. "You're so pleased with yourself. Does it feel good, getting revenge for what happened in Ekranos?"

"Revenge doesn't come into it. I'm just obeying the Guardian's orders." Jemeryl raised her voice without bothering to turn her head in the older woman's direction.

"Obeying the Guardian's orders - you make it sound so virtuous." Levannue sneered.

"If you remember, it's something you once swore to do as well."

Levannue's face twisted in angry derision. "Look at you, the Guardian's trusted follower! I'll bet she hasn't even let you to know what the spell is all about."

"No - and we don't want to know either." Tevi cut in.

"I wasn't addressing you. You shouldn't interrupt when your betters are speaking."

"You can drop that attitude." Jemeryl exploded, stung far more by Levannue's arrogant rebuke of Tevi than by the venomous tones directed at herself. "You're a traitor who has broken her oath of allegiance. The Coven has already withdrawn your rank of sorcerer. You've got a nerve to claim superiority to Tevi."

"I don't have to claim it. If you took this collar off my neck I could demonstrate it." Levannue snapped back.

"No. All you could demonstrate is that you're more powerful than her. Every honest citizen of the Protectorate counts as a better person than you." Jemeryl said with fierce passion. "You once swore to support the Coven but, for the sake of your own ambition, you've been trying to recreate a spell that will destroy it."

Levannue's anger faded into amused contempt. "You think the spell is intended to destroy the Coven? Is that the lie the Guardian told you? You're wrong. Lorimal's spell poses no treat to the Coven. It won't hurt anyone. In fact it does completely the opposite. All Lorimal's spell does is give eternal youth. Immortality - nothing more, nothing less."

"You're lying. If that was all, the Coven wouldn't ban it." Tevi said quickly.

"How dare you accuse me of lying!" Levannue spluttered in anger.

"Why not? I think it goes quite well with theft and murder."

While Levannue floundered for a reply, Jemeryl answered Tevi. "Levannue might be telling the truth, as far as immortality goes, but it's not that simple. The Coven has banned work on immortality because it's impossible. All attempts have done more harm than good. At best, they've raised false hopes. At worst, they've been..." Jemeryl paused, considering her words. "Evil - sacrificing the lives of others in an attempt to prolong one's own."

Levannue made a sweeping gesture, as if knocking the argument aside. "No. Lorimal's spell is different. For one thing it works - look at me! And the spell is only beginning to show its effect."

Jemeryl opened her mouth to speak but froze and stared at the other sorcerer. Now her attention was drawn, it was obvious that Levannue was more youthful than the woman who had left Ekranos. The lines on her face had softened, skin and muscle were firmer than before. There was a long silence.

Jemeryl's expression hardened, "I concede that it's done something, for now. But do you really think it will work forever? And what about the rest? Who pays the cost of your youth?"

"No one."

"I don't believe you." Jemeryl said curtly.

"Don't you..." Levannue bit back her words. She glared into the fire while she mastered her anger. At last, she raised her head and fixed her attention on Jemeryl. "I'll tell you how the spell works."

Jemeryl cut her off. "I don't want to know."

"If you're going to accuse me of lying, you might have the decency to let me defend myself." Levannue continued without waiting for agreement. "What Lorimal worked out is this... our bodies grow from conception to adulthood, following a plan held within our cells. But then the plan fails. It builds a healthy, strong body out of nothing but can't maintain what it created."

"I know the theory." Jemeryl interrupted. "The plan becomes corrupted with time."

"Not completely, else what do we pass on to our children? If the plan had worn out then babies would be born as old as their parents."

Jemeryl shook her head. "There's more to it than that."

"True, there is. But it's the starting point of Lorimal's work. The other attempts at immortality went wrong when they saw 'Death' embodied, as an enemy to defeat. Messing about with zombies and life forces was childish idiocy. Lorimal's great achievement was to realise that death is merely the failure to remain living. All she had to do was to work out how to make the plan repair itself and keep the youthful momentum going."

"If that was all, why would the Coven ban it?" Jemeryl said sceptically.

"A good question. You tell me." Levannue's voice was quietly triumphant.

The two sorcerers stared at each other. For the first time, Jemeryl looked unsure.

It was Tevi who broke the silence. "Perhaps they thought the Protectorate couldn't sustain such a massive rise in population. How could the farmers feed us if nobody ever died?"

Levannue replied condescendingly. "You couldn't give the drug to everyone. It would be limited to the most important people."

"Oh, of course - people like sorcerers." Scorn dripped from Tevi's voice.

"Of course."

"Anyone else you'd want to include in your elite band of deserving cases?" Tevi said, sarcastically.

"You can't be expected to understand the issues but you should know when it's your place to keep silent." Levannue spoke as if addressing a naughty child.

"I think I understand you very well."

Levannue turned away from the hostile mercenary. "You see, Jemeryl, what happens when you become involved with the ungifted. They get an inflated idea of their own importance."

"At least I keep my word." Tevi spat.

"I'm sure that's a very desirable trait for one of your social status."

Unable to withstand the patronising tone, Tevi jumped to her feet and marched off into the darkness. When Jemeryl caught up with her, she was standing by the horses and staring out across the darkening plain.

"Tevi?"

"Wouldn't you rather talk to a fellow sorcerer?"

"Tevi!" Genuine distress moderated the outrage in Jemeryl's voice.

"I'm sorry." Tevi was instantly contrite. She clasped her hands behind her head while she composed her thoughts. "What do you see in me?" she asked at last.

"I love you."

"You're a Coven sorcerer and I'm just a junior mercenary. Levannue is being spiteful - but honest. I'm not in your class."

"No - you're a far rarer thing than I am." Jemeryl took hold of Tevi's shoulder and pulled her around so their eyes met. "There are far too many people around who think like Levannue, including most of the ungifted. You don't know what it's like to be a sorcerer. Most people could accept me easier if I were bright green and had three heads. It's hard enough to make friends, let alone anything deeper. Even other sorcerers have their own ideas they expect me to match." Jemeryl's voice dropped. "But not you. Because you don't see sorcerers as particularly different to anyone else - forget Levannue winding you up just now. You've got no expectations of me as a sorcerer. You don't see me as a sorcerer - you see me as me. I need that. I need you."

"I can't see that I'm so rare." Tevi mumbled.

"There can't be more than a dozen like you in the length and breadth of the Protectorate, and I probably wouldn't get on with most of them if we met. I like you. If nothing else, I'd want to be your friend." Jemeryl's arms slipped around Tevi's waist. "On top of that, even after nine months of knowing you, you can still smile at me and turn my knees to water. Don't let Levannue get to you. Come back to the fire and sleep."

Tevi let herself be drawn back to the light but she knew, no matter what Jemeryl might say, that as far as the rest of the world was concerned, Jemeryl's name and hers did not fit together in the same breath.

*****

By the following afternoon, Levannue's mood had softened to dejected resignation. She even relented enough to make an effort to be pleasant to Jemeryl, although she treated Tevi with indifference bordering on contempt. When they stopped to rest the horses, she made a point to sit close by Jemeryl. Tevi stood to one side, arms folded, certain there was something on the elderly sorcerer's mind.

Levannue addressed Jemeryl with a studied nonchalance. "Have you given any further thought to what I said last night?"

"Of course, lots." Jemeryl replied.

"And?"

"If you think I'm going to say the Coven is wrong and let you go, in exchange for the formula, I'm afraid you're in for a disappointment."

From the way Levannue's face fell, Tevi guessed something close to that hope had inspired the question.

"What purpose does banning the spell serve? Who benefits?" Levannue's composure was already unravelling.

"I'm not sure if benefit is the right word but I think, if this spell is allowed to be used, then the Protectorate will be greatly harmed." Jemeryl said thoughtfully.

"That's ridiculous."

"Not if you think it through."

"I have!" Levannue asserted.

"So, what do you think about Tevi's point that the Protectorate couldn't support an overwhelming and unceasing rise in population?"

"I agreed. Which means Lorimal's potion would have to be strictly limited."

"How would those who didn't get the potion react?"

"They'd be no worse off than before." Levannue said reasonably.

"Would they see it like that?"

"Exceptions could be made, if you're worried about your mercenary sweetheart, though I'd warn you it's unlikely your affection for her will last all eternity." Levannue's smile did nothing to remove the barb from her words.

Jemeryl was undeterred. "It's not the particular cases that are the problem. It's the general effect on all citizens."

"I don't see your point." Levannue sounded genuinely confused.

"That's because you make no attempt to put yourself in their shoes. Withholding this potion..." Jemeryl ran her hand through her hair. "It's hard to think of anything that could cause more resentment. In most people's eyes there's a very thin line between allowing someone to die through inaction and murdering them, particularly when it's their own life in question. Try to imagine if you were an ordinary citizen, getting old and watching the people you loved die. Imagine there were immortal sorcerers, selfishly denying you the means to save your life. How would you feel?"

Levannue shrugged. "What could the ungifted do?"

"Get angry and resentful." Jemeryl answered succinctly. "At the moment, ordinary folk see the Coven as a necessary evil. They don't like sorcerers and they don't understand us, but we provide stability and protection. The Protectorate exists in this balance. Lorimal's potion would shift everything."

"Bykoda on her own holds the north in thrall. I'm sure the Coven could contain the disquiet."

"Yes - and that's the problem." Jemeryl countered. "At the moment, the Coven governs by consent, when it bothers to govern at all. Mostly, we leave the guilds to sort out their own business. If we withheld the potion from the guilds, we'd lose their trust and, in turn, we'd be unable to trust them. The Coven would have to govern by decree and enforce its commands. No matter how well intentioned we might start out, in time we'd become corrupt. When you run other peoples lives for them, you begin by treating them as children and end up treating them as slaves. The Protectorate would become a tyranny, run solely for the benefit of the Coven."

"You'd see sorcerers die, just to keep the ungifted happy?" Levannue was incredulous.

" If you think about your oath to the Coven, that's exactly what you swore to do - to give your life, if need be, to protect the citizens of the Protectorate."

"I don't see the oath as referring to something like this."

"Neither did I at the time. I guess we all think about something dramatic, like fighting a horde of dragons. Agreeing to submit to old age is no different, just less heroic sounding. You don't end up any deader."

Levannue was not ready to give up. "Dragons would affect the citizens safety, this potion would not."

"What point is safety without happiness?"

Levannue got to her feet and said vehemently, "One sorcerer is worth ten thousand ungifted."

"Why?" Tevi entered the debate for the first time. Levannue ignored her, so she asked again "Can a sorcerer be happier or suffer more than a potter?"

"No, but they can achieve greater things." Levannue condescended to snap an answer.

"What do their achievements count for? You obviously don't think the well-being of people in general has any value. If you discount other people's opinion, how do you measure worth? All you're left with is personal satisfaction. I'm sure a potter can get as much satisfaction from a well thrown pot as you can from a spell."

"Some things are more important than others."

"True. I'd say a useful pot is better than a useless spell."

"And we're taking about a spell which could inflict misery on millions." Jemeryl added her weight.

"I see your mind's made up." Levannue turned her back and stormed off.

"Don't go far." Tevi called after her.

"I'm hardly likely to run away on foot and I see you have the horses tightly mind-locked." Levannue threw over her shoulder.

"So you've tried?" Tevi said, amused.

Jemeryl stood by Tevi's shoulder. "Now, am I being brave or stupid?"

"In doing what?"

"Refusing Levannue's offer to share the spell. That's what this whole discussion was about."

"You sounded totally against using the drug." Tevi said, surprised.

"I was arguing generally. It's harder when it gets to specifics, like you and me. Will I remember this day when I'm old and on my death bed and curse myself as a fool? No wonder the Coven leaders were so concerned to keep Lorimal's work secret. Levannue setting herself up as an immortal empress would be bad enough, but they couldn't risk the truth becoming common knowledge. It presents an utterly appalling temptation." Jemeryl's face twisted in a pained grimace. "Say something helpful. What do you think?"

"I think I'd take a very simple view." Tevi said, after a short pause.

"Which is?"

"I'm oath-bound to the guild. I've never broken my word in my life."

"If I broke my own oath to the Coven, would you follow me?"

"I..." Tevi's voice died in confusion. She realised she did not have the first idea of what to answer. "I don't know. But, if it helps, I'll still love you when you're old and wrinkly." Of that much she was quite sure.

*****

On the following day, their path joined with another road, running straight and true across the open plains - unnaturally so. It travelled from one horizon to the other, unbending, as if a giant craftsman had lain a ruler across the terrain to score a line. The road was raised a little above the surrounding ground. Paving slabs were revealed in places where the wheel ruts dug more deeply, or wind and rain had scoured the topsoil. At one spot, the coils of a meandering stream had undercut the road and washed away the foundations. Crumbling slabs of dressed stone jutted from the sides of the gully. Tevi dismounted to examine the ancient workmanship.

"Who made this?" she asked.

"I'd guess slave labour did the actual laying of the stones. A sorcerer must have commanded it. Don't ask me their name, they were long gone before the Coven was founded." Jemeryl answered.

"Where does it lead?"

"Ahead of us, it goes over the pass at Denbury and down to the sea. There's still a port where it ends. Behind us, it probably goes to the ruins of a city, way beyond Uzhenek."

"To have a paved road, over this distance... it must have been an amazing city."

Jemeryl nodded. "And an amazing sorcerer. But, whoever it was, nothing remains of their empire except this road. The trade route has followed its path for centuries; it's known as the Old West Road."

Shaking her head, Tevi swung back into her saddle and turned to look both ways along the road. No one else was in sight. "It doesn't seem very well used."

"Too late in the year. We'll be alright as long as we don't hang about, but this isn't the season that most people chose to set out."

The truth of Jemeryl's words was self evident. Autumn was well advanced, with shortening days. Already, they woke most mornings to a glistening rime of frost on the long grass, making it crunch underfoot. There was probably little more than a month of safe travel before the harsh northern winter swept over the plains.

*****

Over the following days, they met scarcely anyone, only a couple of caravans hastening back to Uzhenek or Tirakhalod after their summer trade cycle. They overtook no one going in the same direction as themselves. The few villages they rode through were little more than huddles of temporary shelters for the nomadic plainsmen.

The interaction of the three women improved with time. Levannue seemed to make the purposeful decision to accept her capture with as much grace as she could command, although sometimes her mood gave way to bouts of bitterness when she was best left on her own, fidgeting irritably with the collar at her neck. Her relationship with Tevi could never be called warm but, with Jemeryl, a degree of mutual regard lightened at times into camaraderie. Lorimal's spell continued to work on Levannue and she became slowly, but unmistakably, more youthful. Tevi guessed that, by the time they reached Lyremouth, the three of them would appear to be about the same age.

The landscape changed. The level plains slowly gave way to undulating slopes, crowned with the outcrops of rock. To the south, the high Barrodens marched into view as the trail skirted their northern foothills. The vegetation became more profuse: first stubby bushes dotted the grassland, followed by isolated trees, and then small clumps of thicket. By the tenth day out from Uzhenek, they were riding through what might charitably be called woodland. Still the road continued on its remorseless advance, although now the trees encroached, narrowing the highway in places to barely the width of the wheel ruts. Roots ploughed through old paving, littering the ground with rubble. Yet, even under the assault of the forest, the road continued straight and true, over the folded ridges and off into the distance.

The unbending road held a hypnotic quality. It gave Tevi a jolt of surprise when they rode over one hilltop and began the descent into a thickly wooded valley, to see the road ahead turn sharply to the left. She reined in her horse at the bend. Despite a thick covering of bramble, it was possible to pick out the original line of the road on its old, unwavering course. The new route curved over the hillside, its camber lurching up and down with the contours of the land. The ruts of wagon wheels followed the new detour.

"Do we leave the old road? I thought you said it went all the way to Denbury." Tevi asked.

"It's just for a while. We'll join up with the road again soon." Jemeryl answered.

"Why? You're not going to tell me this is a short cut."

Jemeryl laughed. "No. There's an obstruction in the way."

"Can't it be moved?"

"No one's found the courage to try. It's the village of Graka or, by now, the ruins of it." Jemeryl guided her horse onto the new track. "The ghouls have taken it. Lots of them, which is unusual. Normally you don't get more than one or two at a time. Graka is notorious. It's the result of a sorcerer's experiment that went very, very wrong."

"What are ghouls?"

"No one knows for sure. It's hard to get close enough to study them." Jemeryl paused for a moment, looking thoughtful. "Actually, that's not quite true. It's easy to get close to them. It's getting away afterwards that's the problem."

"They're dangerous?" Tevi said, alarmed.

"Oh, highly." Despite her words, Jemeryl's tone was unconcerned. "They enjoy scaring people to death - quite literally. There's no physical violence but, if they touch you, they induce a state of terror which gives lucky people heart attacks. The unlucky ones go through stages of madness before hitting catatonic shock. But ghouls have absolutely no effect on animals. In fact, most non-humans can't even see them."

"It's assumed they directly stimulate the compound fields of the human aura and need to interact with complex reasoning. Even their appearance is thought to be purely a mental projection." Levannue added.

Tevi nodded to be polite, although she had only a vague idea of what was meant.

The trail climbed a wooded hillside. Tevi stared over the treetops, trying to catch sight of the cursed village. At first, she saw nothing but the rolling forest. Then her eyes picked out the crumbling finger of a ruined tower, maybe half a mile distant. Slightly closer a broken wall peeked between the crowding trees. To one side, a roof with half its tiles missing seemed to detach itself from the vegetation.

Tevi turned back to where Jemeryl rode, a few feet in front. "You don't sound alarmed. You're sure you can handle them?"

"I'd have no problems with one. The whole village would be a different matter but we're in no danger. Ghouls are tied to one place. People used to think it was their graves that held them, but ghouls aren't human, or the remains of anything that used to be human. They do base their general shape on people; however, they have a poor grasp of basic biology and probably the world's worst taste in colours."

"We're outside their range?" Tevi guessed, hopefully.

Jemeryl studied the ruins, her face twisting as she judged the distance. "A bit close at the moment to be absolutely safe, but they only come out at night. We'll be miles away by sunset. The new road has been cut because the traders get nervous but, as long as it's daylight, you could walk through the centre of the village. Do you want to go and see?"

Tevi smiled, realising she was being teased. She began to relax just as a trio of crows erupted from their nests. Tevi jumped at the disturbance. However, there was no sign of danger. The crows flapped in untidy excitement, wheeling in the wind, and then equally abruptly they sank back to their roost. The midday sun bathed the scene, defying any threat. Still, Tevi felt a cold shiver run through her. She fixed her eyes on the road ahead.

*****

By evening, they had rejoined the Old West Road and put several miles between themselves and the ruins of Graka. They camped under the spreading arms of an old oak, which hung over them like the rafters of a hall. Klara took a sentry post high in the branches, among heavy clumps of acorns. The ferns of summer had died back, leaving the ground beneath the trees clear of undergrowth. To the south, an expanse of exposed broken rock impeded the growth of trees, giving a view of the high Barrodens piercing the open sky.

While they ate their evening meal, Jemeryl sat chatting with Tevi and watched the sunset fade from red to purple behind the mountaintops. Levannue kept to one side, eating in silence. Her mood was withdrawn, as it had been since the ghoul village. At last, she put down her bowl and shifted closer to Jemeryl.

Levannue hesitated, as if searching for words. "Is there nothing I can say to make you reconsider your views on Lorimal's spell?"

It was not the first time Levannue had returned to the subject. Jemeryl sighed, she was beginning to find it tedious. "No. We've been over it enough."

"You think the Protectorate depends on keeping this spell secret?"

"Yes."

"Because of some vague idea of how the ungifted would react?"

"There's more to it." Jemeryl said patiently.

"Such as?"

"The sorcerers in the Coven. At the moment, we juniors know our place. We obey the Guardian and seniors largely in the hope of being seniors ourselves. The fact that the seniors will die one day is essential in sustaining the ambition. Take Alendy - he's been deputy for a few years. He seems content but he must have his eye on becoming Guardian himself. How many centuries would he be content to play second fiddle to Gilliart? If we were all immortal it could only be a question of time before the Coven fell apart."

"You don't think knowledge and the freedom to learn count for anything?"

Jemeryl shrugged. "I wouldn't say that, but I'm suspicious of disembodied ideals. The ideals themselves are fine but, when they're needed to excuse actions, they're usually a blanket to hide a feeble justification. If there's a genuine problem, people will point to tangible facts; they only resort to words like freedom when they need a smokescreen."

Levannue leant forward, impatient. "If you want a tangible fact? How about dying? It's easy for you. You're young and death must seem a long way off. It's getting much closer for me. Each year passes quicker than the last. Surely, you understand that I don't want to die if it isn't necessary?"

"It depends how you define what is necessary. I think the Coven is something worth dying for."

"Because you value the freedom of the ungifted."

"No - their happiness. The Coven allows millions to live out their mundane lives with adequate food and shelter for today and the reasonable hope of the same for tomorrow. It may be uninspiring to say we should be willing to die so that lots of people can have a tolerably nice time, but that's what it comes down to." Jemeryl met Levannue's eyes with an ironic smile. "I just hope they appreciate it."

"Surely you cannot value the lives of sorcerers so cheaply?"

"Like you did when you tried to murder Jemeryl?" Tevi cut in. Jemeryl saw Levannue flinch at the bite of sarcasm.

"I had no desire to harm her." Levannue said, quietly.

"Then I'd hate to see what you'd do to someone you really had it in for. And how about Druse and Aris?" Tevi asked.

Levannue slumped back. When she spoke, her voice was soft and hollow. "Aris was an accident. I knew she was unstable but I didn't think she'd kill herself. I had all her treatment planned for when she came back. I didn't mean for her to die." Levannue stared, unseeing, into the fire. "That's when it became serious. Until then, finding the spell had been a game - piecing together scrambled information from Orrago, hunting through the library, chasing clues. It was such an absurd rule there seemed no harm in breaking it. Then Aris killed herself. She was under a loose link to me but when her mind slipped over the edge, I couldn't pull her back. I felt her die and I knew that it wasn't a game anymore. It was only a couple of hours later that Druse called for me about the book I'd taken from the restricted part of the library. I was in a state of shock. I had no time to think. I wasn't able to think. I panicked and swapped his drugs. He didn't notice. He was too ill..." Levannue's voice fell to a torn whisper. "and too trusting. Next morning, when I woke, I rushed back to stop him taking them... but it was too late. Druse was a friend of mine. Do you know how much I've regretted his death?"

Would you have regretted Jemeryl's? The words were on Tevi's lips. Jemeryl could see them as clearly as if they had been spoken but the mercenary bit them back.

The thick silence under the trees was broken only by the hiss and crackle of the campfire and the rush of wind over the high branches. Jemeryl watched the column of sparks rise up from the fire and drift away into the gathering gloom. A whinny and stomp of hooves came from a short distance off.

Tevi got to her feet. "I'm going to have a last check on the horses before it gets too dark."

Jemeryl smiled and nodded. Levannue did not stir as Tevi left the fireside. The elderly sorcerer's eyes were fixed on the flames. By the pained set of her lips, she was viewing other scenes, other times. Jemeryl sat quietly, ready for Levannue to speak or keep silent as she wished.

"Did you talk with Bramell after I left Ekranos?" Levannue's voice was stretched with the effort. It was the first time she had mentioned her partner's name.

"No. Tevi spoke to him a few times but he'd left for Lyremouth by the time I was up and about."

"Do you know how he took my... departure?"

"As I said, I didn't talk to him." Jemeryl paused. "Word was that he was very upset, but he was coping."

"He would." Levannue managed the ghost of a smile. "There was no talk of him resigning?"

"None that I heard."

"Do you think he knows that I still care about..." Levannue's voice broke off. Her head dropped.

Jemeryl reached out, about to touch the older woman's shoulder. She was interrupted by Tevi's excited shout from a vantage point on the rocks.

"Look at that!"

Levannue tensed and drew away.

"What?" Jemeryl's attention was torn.

"Do you get fireflies here? I saw some before once, in the desert."

"No. We're too far north."

Jemeryl scrambled to her feet, about to investigate. She halted, unwilling to desert Levannue in her distress. However, the older sorcerer had withdrawn into herself. Her face was averted and both hands gripped the opposing elbow, so her arms crossed, barrier-like, in front of her. Levannue's jaw was clenched tight, as if to dam the flow of words. It was clearly an end to the conversation.

After one last, pitying look, Jemeryl turned away.

*****

Tevi waited on the other side of the road for Jemeryl to join her. "Look there, by the large beech tree."

"What is it?"

"I'm sure I saw lights flicker."

Jemeryl's face scrunched as she made the effort to peer into the darkening forest. Suddenly, her expression changed to one of horror. She spun back to where Klara sat sentry, oblivious to any danger.

"Oh, gods no!" There was panic rather than denial in Jemeryl's voice. "Klara can't see them."

"What is it?" Even as she asked, Tevi felt a cold fist clamp her stomach. "Ghouls?"

Jemeryl did not bother to give confirmation. She held her hands out, as if to ward off an attack and slowly turned around. Her eyes were wide open and her breath came in shallow gasps.

"How many?" The news had shaken Levannue from the painful brooding and brought her to her feet.

"The whole foul village. We're surrounded."

"You said they didn't travel." Tevi protested, in a mixture of confusion and fear.

"These ones have." Jemeryl stood frozen.

Cautiously, Tevi put out a hand to her shoulder. "Jem?"

Instead of answering, Jemeryl looked to where Levannue stood by the fire. "What do you recommend?"

"Rissom's web?"

Jemeryl gave a sharp nod of agreement. "Tevi, quickly, get the collar off her."

The urgency in Jemeryl's voice goaded Tevi to retrieve the key from the cord about her neck but, as she reached for the collar, she hesitated. "Can we trust her?"

"We've got no choice. I can't hold them off on my own and right now she's in as much danger as us." Jemeryl was no longer watching. The words were thrown over her shoulder while she dug frantically through the pile of baggage.

The collar fell from Levannue's neck. The elderly sorcerer gave a convulsive shudder. Her shoulders pulled back square and she took a deep breath, sucked through flared nostrils. Jemeryl stood up, wrenching two sorcerer's staffs free from the jumble. She tossed one to Levannue and then spoke to Tevi.

"Stand between us. We're going to create a barrier that will keep them out. Stay inside and try not to panic. Ignore them, if you can. It won't be easy but the barrier will dampen their projections." Jemeryl's voice dropped. "Keep your sword unsheathed and to hand - if you see the net fail before sunrise, use it on yourself." She swallowed. "I'll be doing the magical equivalent... if I can."

The two sorcerers faced each other, a dozen feet apart. Levannue clasped her staff in both hands and raised it high above her head, in an action that was copied immediately by Jemeryl. They began to chant in unison, a driving rhythm that rose and fell in power; strange words, yet disquietingly familiar to Tevi's ears.

She stared around, wondering what to expect. The chant stopped, as abruptly as if a knife had severed the string of arcane syllables. Lines of white light leapt between the tips of the staffs and collided in mid air. New rays shot out from the points of impact, criss-crossing, colliding and bouncing their way to the ground. More lines flared out from the staffs. Within seconds, a complete dome of fine lines had been formed over the three women. The web of light glowed luminously in the gloom under the trees.

All action stopped. Minutes passed and nothing happened. The silence was unnerving. Both sorcerers were motionless, rooted to the ground, their sight fixed on other dimensions. Tevi drew her sword, more for comfort than with any idea of action. She scanned the woods, trying to spot florescent lights flitting under the trees.

Jemeryl's final sentence kept echoing in her head. It was too late now to wish that they had exchanged more personal words - if they were to be their last. Tevi rubbed a hand across her face, feeling the chill of her skin. It was also too late to wish that they had positioned the barrier so the campfire was inside. Tevi stood and stared ruefully at the warming blaze. With no one to tend it, the flames would soon die.

There was an unearthly scream behind her. Tevi spun about as a green, glowing figure hurled itself against the net, shrieking in maniac fury. Behind it a second form, pale as a corpse and blotched with vivid purple, crawled across the ground. It shuffled through the leaves until it nosed close to the net, then plucked at the lines with stubs of fingers sprouting from a wasted arm. Its movements were confused clawing swipes, like a drunken harper, and all the while the ghoul whined and sobbed. More figures emerged from between the trees, clothed in yellow and green fluorescence. They spun about the web, tearing the silence of the night with screams and howls. Eyes, set in molten faces, leered in.

The sword slipped from Tevi's hand and she dropped to her knees. Her whole body shook as she fought back the nausea that churned her stomach and the terror that set the pulse jumping at her throat.

On the other side of the road, the horses grazed calmly, as if nothing more dangerous than gnats were abroad in the forest. The ghouls seemed equally unaware of them. The focus of their onslaught was the net of light and the three women it sheltered. The deformed shapes twisted and writhed around the dome, flowing in a depraved dance. Sounds erupted and faded away. Whispers came from lipless mouths. Towering shapes crashed down upon the net and senseless, silly, smiling faces chewed on its strands. Unbelievably, the web held firm.

Slowly, as if she feared a rash movement might provoke the ghouls to greater frenzy, Tevi reached out and grasped the handle of her sword, then edged back to sit by Jemeryl's feet. She raised her head, averting her eyes from the horror that surged outside the net and picked a point, near the apex of the dome, where the lines of light showed crisp against the night sky. All Tevi could do then was to sit and wait and pray for morning.

Above the mountains, the stars stepped slowly across the heavens, while hell ran brawling through the forest. Tevi marked the progress of the night by watching the turning sky slide stars from line to line across the web. In desperation, she kept her eyes locked on the rays of light, battling the urge to cheat herself by moving her head. As tiredness grew, she also had to contend with the illusion that the strength of the net was fading.

Hours crawled by. A dozen times, Tevi's hopes betrayed her when she thought she saw the first hints of morning in the eastern sky. In the end, it was with surprise she realised that the sky beyond the mountains was truly beginning to pale. She rubbed her eyes and took several deep breaths, then looked again. There was no doubt.

Even as relief flooded over her, it seemed that the intensity of the ghoul's attack was decreasing. For a last time, she lowered her eyes and looked at the monstrosities that beset the web. They were weakening, drawing off. Abruptly, the sounds of chaos stopped. The last pale figures faded away as the peace of pre-dawn settled beneath the trees. In the distance, the first bird sang. Still, the net held, as clean and true as it had been all night.

The muscles in Tevi's legs were cramped and frozen. The cold of the night had gnawed into her bones. It took minutes of careful, painful exercise before she could stumble to her feet. She wondered whether it would be possible to step through the net and light the fire. In the absence of advice she thought it best not to try. Instead, she concentrated on stamping some feeling back into her limbs.

To the east, the light was growing into a yellowy haze behind the mountains. The stars above were twinkling out when, with an audible snap, the net vanished. Tevi spun about at Jemeryl's gasp and the sorcerer fell forward into her protective arms. Jemeryl's skin was as cold as ice. Tevi could feel her body trembling violently.

"Are you all right?" Tevi asked.

"I will be. I just want to sit down." Jemeryl's voice was barely a whisper.

Tevi supported Jemeryl's weight and lowered her gently to the ground, when, to her inner ear, came Blaze's sardonic voice, drilling out the lessons of the islands, Never, never, never turn your back on your enemy.

Still holding Jemeryl, Tevi twisted to face Levannue just in time to see the older sorcerer complete a throwing motion - an attack. There was an instant for Tevi to realise that nothing as ordinary as a knife was aimed at them. The invisible projectile hit and red light exploded in her face. Tevi had the distinct sensation of being turned inside out. Up became down as darkness overwhelmed her.

Chapter 6: The High Barrodens

"Wake up, Tevi. Wake up."

Tevi opened her eyes. She was lying on her back where she had fallen. Her body ached and her pulse throbbed at her temples like stabs from a needle. Light filtering through the trees was a painful glare. A purposeful rustle came from beside her left ear. Slowly, she let her head roll sideways and found herself staring into two beady eyes, no more than three inches from her nose. The effort of focusing at such short range made Tevi's head reel. She groaned and closed her eyes again. Klara gave a short disappointed croak. Then, the memory of the previous night's events rushed back and the pain in her head was forgotten. Tevi shoved herself into a sitting position and looked around.

The sun had climbed above the horizon and driven away the night's chill. Clean, bright beams fell dappled between the trees and liquid streams of bird-song echoed through the heavy silence. Two horses were standing side by side, grazing at the roadside. By the sun's position, Tevi estimated that nearly two hours had passed since she and Jemeryl had been blasted senseless. There was no sign of any threat - or of Levannue.

The sudden realisation that she could not see Jemeryl sent Tevi into a short-lived panic. It lasted until she twisted around enough to spot the sorcerer sprawled a few feet away. Tevi scrambled to her side. Jemeryl's hands felt clammy and her face held a bloodless pallor, but a strong pulse beat at her wrist. A raw graze on her cheek was the only apparent injury.

"Jem, are you all right?" Tevi shook her shoulder.

Jemeryl's face tightened into a frown and her hands moved slightly.

"Jem?"

"I'm cold." Jemeryl mouthed rather than spoke the words.

Only blackened ashes marked the spot where the campfire had been but two warm blankets were among the scattered baggage. Tevi helped Jemeryl into a patch of sunshine, wrapped her in the blankets, and then turned her attention to re-kindling the fire. By the time flames were leaping over the logs, Jemeryl was looking more alert. A steaming bowl of porridge further improved her condition to the point where she was able to review her surroundings.

"I take it Levannue has fled?" she asked.

"Either that or she's popped off to pick blackberries for our supper." Tevi said ironically.

"And she knocked us out cold first so as not to spoil the surprise on her return?" Jemeryl had recovered enough to indulge in humour.

Tevi smiled. Her face became more thoughtful. "She might be up to something just as strange - else why didn't she kill us while we were unconscious?"

"Perhaps she lacked the strength after she'd removed the mind-lock from the horse and saddled it. Holding the net all night was hard work. If she feels half as bad as me, she wouldn't be in a fit state to get serious with a knife."

"She could have stabbed us first, then saddled the horse at her leisure."

"Perhaps she was too tired to think straight. I know I am." Jemeryl rubbed her face. Her hands shook noticeably. "Most likely she couldn't face killing in cold blood. I really don't think she's that callous."

"I guess there's not much point debating Levannue's motives. We can ask her when we catch her." Tevi looked at Jemeryl with concern. "How do you feel? Do you think you can travel? We dare not stay here another night."

"I'll be fine. The blast was a bit much after holding the net all night. What I need is a good sleep. Levannue must be in a similar state. Once she stops and lies down the end of the world won't wake her. If you can keep going, we'll overtake her eventually and I can guarantee that she'll be too tired to fight off a geriatric dormouse."

Tevi nodded and looked at the sun, high above the mountain peaks. By the time they had collected their things and saddled the horses, Levannue would have a three-hour lead on them. The hunt would begin again, Tevi thought bitterly, and this time Levannue would be expecting them. Jemeryl seemed confident they would have no problems recapturing Levannue, but Tevi felt doubts twist in her gut. She knew there was trouble ahead.

*****

The ground was dry and hard. Even so, Tevi was able to pick out Levannue's trail through the carpet of fallen leaves, heading west.

"She went this way."

"Are you sure?"

Jemeryl stood, holding tightly to the reins of the horses. Her eyes were dark hollows in the pallor of her face. Tevi judged she clung to the reins more to support herself than to keep the animals from straying. Tevi vaulted onto her own mount, then leant down, caught hold of Jemeryl, and helped her into the saddle of the other horse.

"I'm not up to the level of a guild scout," Tevi said while she did this. "but I grew up hunting wild boar through forests like these." She smiled. "I'm sure."

"Good. Normally I'd have a go at listening for her aural resonance but I don't think I'm up to it at the moment."

"Do you think Levannue will keep to the road for long?" Tevi asked.

Jemeryl gestured to the enmeshed darkness under the trees. "I should think so. She's no woodsman and, as I've said before, sorcerers don't find flying a practical mode of transport at the best of times. Right now, Levannue will be doing well just to keep sitting on her horse."

Tevi twisted in the saddle to take one last look at the site under the trees. She was relieved beyond measure that Levannue had chosen to head away from Graka. The surroundings looked so peaceful, hardly recognisable as the scene of the previous night's attack. A shudder ran through Tevi. She knew she would never forget the night she had spent there but she wished so desperately that she could.

The two of them rode in silence, Jemeryl with shoulders hunched and head sagging and Tevi scouring the ground for signs of Levannue's passage. The forest stretched away over the hills around them. The only things disturbing the peace was the rustling of small animals, scrabbling through the leaf-litter, and occasionally the distant bellow of a deer. The sounds were carried on air rich with the musty smell of autumn.

The sun had just passed midday, when a small path left the Old West Road, heading south. A few yards on, a trickle of water oozed across the new trail. A solitary line of hoof-prints were freshly imprinted in the wet mud. Tevi examined the marks.

"This is Levannue's horse. She's left the main road."

"I wonder if she knows where she's going." Jemeryl said, yawning and studying the rising terrain. "Because I certainly don't."

"You don't have any idea where this new track leads?"

"None at all." Jemeryl scrunched her face as she fought through the fog of tiredness. "An eccentric group of minor sorcerers established a centre for the study of something obscure, up in the mountains around here, about 40 years ago. I can't remember what or why, but the group fell to infighting after a few years. And it was more a hermit's retreat than a city. They certainly didn't go in for building roads."

"This path is much less than 40 years old." Tevi examined the sawn stump of a sapling. "I'd guess this was cut back during the spring. Someone has been maintaining the road on a regular basis."

"And if Levannue doesn't know who that someone is, it may turn out to be a big surprise for all of us." Jemeryl said, with a trace of a smile.

The new path was scarcely wide enough to ride side by side and the uneven surface would not have permitted the passage of carts. The route wound up into the foothills, rolling from ridge to ridge and climbing ever higher. As the afternoon progressed, the trees became shorter and thinned out. The oaks gave way to birch, interspersed, to Jemeryl's disgust, with patches of rowan. In late afternoon, the trail crossed a shallow ford. The water rippled over a bed of smooth round pebbles. To the west, the sinking sun hovered low in the sky. Its last misty rays played warmly over a hillside of brown and orange.

Tevi knelt to examine the hoof marks in a patch of wet sand. "A guild scout could be more accurate but we're definitely gaining on her. She can't be more than an hour ahead of us." Her statement got no answer. Tevi looked up. Jemeryl was swaying in the saddle, her face colourless and drawn. "Jem, are you all right?"

"Do I look it?" Jemeryl smiled wryly. "Don't panic. I'm just very tired. But we've got to catch Levannue before she has time to recuperate. I can cope."

Despite her words, it was clear that Jemeryl was in no fit state to ride. Tevi walked to her side and slipped her foot free from its stirrup. Before Jemeryl could object, Tevi swung up behind her, and reached around to take control of the reins.

"Lean against me. Sleep if you can. I won't let you fall. We can swap horses when this one gets tired."

"I'm fine." Jemeryl protested.

"No you're not."

The most worrying thing for Tevi was that Jemeryl was too tired to argue. She closed her eyes and sunk back into Tevi's arms.

"If we're lucky, Levannue will be flaked out around the next corner, but it's my guess we won't catch up with her until after nightfall. Can you hold out that long?" Tevi asked.

"Only if the ghouls don't get us first."

"You don't think..." Fear sharpened Tevi's voice.

"No." Jemeryl interrupted quickly. "It was just a very bad joke on my part. We must be outside their range by now."

"You said that last night."

"True. It must have been a fluke - the phase of the moon or something. We can ask Levannue when we catch her... that sort of thing is her speciality." Jemeryl's voice was no more than a soft mumble.

"Perhaps that's why she didn't kill us. She knew the ghouls would come tonight and do her job for her." Tevi could not dismiss the nagging worry.

"Believe me, there's nothing to worry about. Ghouls are quite predictable."

"They weren't last night. Perhaps these are a different sort of ghoul."

"There's only one sort and they don't travel. To get them out this far, Levannue would have to..." Jemeryl's voice died. Suddenly her eyes snapped open in horror, all tiredness swept away. She twisted round and shouted, "Quick, check the bags."

"What for?"

"A charm - the thing Levannue excels in. She could call a ghoul half way across the Protectorate if she wanted to."

"You said the collar would stop her working magic." Tevi protested.

"No, it would only handicap her, like working with a blindfold. She wouldn't be able perceive the aura of the charm, but she wouldn't need to. After all the years she's spent studying them, the exact combination is probably etched into her memory." As she spoke Jemeryl pulled a bag onto her lap and tugged open the drawstring.

Tevi jumped to the ground and flung back the cover over the pack on the other horse. She started to pull out items. "What would the charm look like? How do I..." Tevi's words stopped abruptly and she pulled her hand out of the bag. Lying in her palm was a small bundle of leaves, bones and feathers. "Like this?" she asked softly.

From the expression on Jemeryl's face, no other answer was needed. Tevi twisted her head to look west. Framed at the end of a long valley, the sun was just kissing the skyline. Even allowing for the height of the hill, there was barely half an hour before dusk.

"What do we do? Search the other bags?"

"There isn't time. And the other stuff may be contaminated anyway. We must leave the charm here as a decoy and get as far away as possible. And wash your hands, check your clothes, your pockets and..." Jemeryl pinched the bridge of her nose. She took a deep breath. "We passed a large stand of rowan a couple of miles back. We need to sort ourselves out as quickly as possible and go there - if we can make it before sunset."

"You hate rowan."

"So do ghouls and it should disguise any residual traces of the charm."

In the end, they left everything except the cloths they wore, the saddles and one blanket piled in a heap by the ford and then spurred the horses into a race against the failing light. Dusk had set in by the time they reached the point on the road nearest the rowan grove. Tevi tore her eyes from the darkness flooding into the valley, dreading the sight of dancing florescent lights. She looked instead towards their goal. Between them and the rowan was fifty yards of matted scrub and thorns.

The last of Jemeryl's endurance had gone and her knees buckled as she dismounted. Tevi drew her sword and hacked her way through to the slender trees, carrying Jemeryl. Desperation added strength, speeding her progress to the centre of the grove. Klara perched in the branches above. The horses followed obligingly. There was no sound apart from their husky breathing.

She deposited Jemeryl in a sheltered spot beneath the trees and unsaddled the horses, then settled down to keep guard. Wrapped in the blanket, Jemeryl was already deeply asleep. She did no more than mumble "Gods, I hate rowan." before giving in to exhaustion. Tevi was determined to face whatever the darkness might bring, but she also had not slept the night before. Her face contorted in the effort to keep her eyelids open. Eventually, she gave up the struggle and lay down beside Jemeryl.

After all, she thought, surrendering herself to fate, There is nothing I can do anyway - if they come.

*****

Tevi awoke at dawn the next day. She lay on her back, looking up at wisps of blue sky through a swaying lace-work of rowan branches, heavy with clumps of bright red berries, and soaked in the surprise and relief of greeting a new morning. It was a morning that Levannue had planned she should not see. There could be no doubt of the traitor's intentions. Tevi's jaw clenched as she considered what would have happened if the charm had not been found. The image of the ghouls arriving again was all too easy to conjure up. She breathed out hard and watched the cloud of her breath trail away, white, on the crisp air.

Jemeryl's arm lay flopped across her. Tevi turned her head and studied her sleeping lover. The night's rest had softened the dark bruises under Jemeryl's eyes and her face was peaceful and unguarded. The sunlight heightened the warm flush that had returned to her skin. Gently, Tevi disentangled herself from the encircling arm and stood up, brushing twigs and flakes of dead leaves from her clothes. The movement woke Jemeryl, though she did no more than pull the blanket up close about her neck.

"We're still here then?" Jemeryl asked, without opening her eyes.

"So it would seem." Tevi replied, dryly.

"Then is breakfast a possibility?"

"I don't know. We left everything at the ford. It depends on how much the ghouls will have left." Tevi hoisted one of the saddles onto the nearest horse.

"They won't have eaten much. As ethereal spirits, they have remarkably light appetites - although it still doesn't pay to invite them to dinner."

"Their table manners are pretty poor." Klara elaborated.

Jemeryl open her eyes, looked at the waving rowan branches and winced. "I realise I should regard these particular trees with gratitude, but I'd rather do it from a distance."

"Get up then." Tevi reached down and yanked the blanket away, unmoved by Jemeryl's yelp of complaint.

It did not take long to ready the horses and start back towards the ford. Strands of mist drifted over the morning hillside and swirled around the horse's legs. In low-lying spots, the tops of trees floated above a sea of cloud, though the rising sun was starting to burn through.

"How long do you think Levannue was planning this?" Tevi asked as they rode.

"It must have been some time, probably ever since we left Uzhenek. She couldn't have collected all the bits she needed for the charm on the spur of the moment. Some items are quite rare."

"Would she have known the road lead us by Graka?"

Jemeryl nodded. "Yes. The village is notorious. And, once she'd called the ghouls, we had no option but to remove her collar. I couldn't have held them all off on my own. But it was quite a feat of brinkmanship on her part - she was in as much danger as us at the time."

"I wonder what she'd have done if I hadn't spotted the ghouls when I did?"

"No doubt she had something planned that wouldn't arouse our suspicions. She'd been very careful up to then." Jemeryl shook her head at her own folly. "I should have been more distrusting of her."

"There wasn't anything you could have done after the ghouls arrived."

"Oh there was. Towards morning, I felt her end of the net start to weaken. I thought, 'She's old', so I let her push more of the burden onto me. Of course, she was just gathering her strength, ready to cast the stun-bolt. I should have made her carry her share of the net. It might have stopped her escape."

"And her plans didn't end there."

"I know." Jemeryl sighed. "I wish I could believe she left the charm by oversight."

"Why?"

"I don't like to think I'm so gullible. The version of events that she gave by the campfire - I believed her. I felt sorry for her. I thought she was just an old woman who was frightened of dying and hadn't meant any harm. I was taken in by a lying, murderous traitor."

"If it makes you feel any happier, I'd guess the truth lies somewhere in the middle, with a strong pinch of self-delusion, on her part, thrown in." Tevi said grimly.

"She meant to kill us."

"True. It wasn't as sure as stabbing us while we were unconscious, but it's definitely Levannue's style - like leaving poison to be taken when she's absent, or causing a suicide half a world away. Perhaps, if she's not there to witness her victim's fate, she can pretend to herself that it wasn't her fault."

Jemeryl nodded but said nothing.

The ford appeared around the next bend in the road. The bags were still piled where they had been left. Everything looked unchanged. Jemeryl reined in her horse and stared at the scene with her lips compressed in a thin line.

"They were here last night?" Tevi asked.

"Oh yes." Jemeryl answered softly.

While Tevi prepared a substantial breakfast, Jemeryl went through their belongings, cleaning them of all traces of the charm. It was a slow, painstaking job. Tevi fed the small fire and watched Jemeryl work, wishing there was something she could do to assist..

"You know, it must have added a fair impetus to Levannue's flight, the fear that we'd overtake her before nightfall." Tevi said after a while.

"Undoubtedly."

"Maybe now she'll slow down now, if she feels safe."

Jemeryl paused in her work. "Maybe. But I don't think Levannue will rely on the ghouls. She's too naturally cautious. We must be on the lookout for further traps."

"We can't go too slowly. I reckon, by the time we finish here, Levannue will have nearly half a day's lead on us."

"Well, at least now I've slept, I can help track her." Jemeryl said, sighing. "It shouldn't be too hard. There hasn't been anyone else along this path for months, so there are no distracting auras."

"Apart from this bit reeking of ghouls." Klara added.

"You still can't tell who made this path?" Tevi asked.

"No."

Tevi grimaced. "Call me a cynic but I can't see it being the work of a sweet little old man who's going to welcome us into his home like long-lost relatives."

"You're a cynic." Jemeryl said. "And almost certainly right."

*****

It soon became obvious that Levannue wasn't relying on the ghouls to have removed any pursuit. She pressed ahead at a rate that was savage on the horses. In the mid-afternoon, Tevi and Jemeryl stopped for a pitifully inadequate break. Lush grass lined the banks of a cascading stream, yet the horses were too tired to eat. Tevi used fistfuls of leaves to rub their sweat drenched coats, more to ease her own conscience than for any aid it might give. She could feel the animals trembling with exhaustion.

"We can't push the horses this hard - it's cruel."

Jemeryl lay on her back a few feet away with her arms crossed over her eyes. "I know, but we must catch Levannue."

"Is there nothing you can do?"

"I can try." Jemeryl sighed. She sat and hugged her knees while flexing the muscles of her neck, and then pushed up onto her feet. Tevi was concerned to see signs of exhaustion returning to her lover's face.

Jemeryl took a deep breath before moving to stand in front of one of the horses. Deftly, she reached out and placed her palms over its eyes. Her fingers splayed out, fan-like, towards its ears. The startled horse tried to back away but, almost immediately, it calmed. Only its ears flicked, as if trying to dislodge a fly. Gradually, a change came over the animal. The trembling went. Vigour returned to the set of its legs and arch of its neck. When finally Jemeryl stepped away, the horse tossed back its head, fidgeting like a skittish colt. The animal radiated strength and good health.

Tevi was impressed. "Could you do the same for me?"

"Yes, but I wouldn't want to. It's not totally safe." Jemeryl moved to the other horse.

"It seems happy."

"It is. And the horses shouldn't come to harm if this only lasts a day or two, but much longer and it will kill them. It's like burning a candle at both ends."

After the short rest, they continued until nightfall. They resumed the chase at first light the next day. The trail no longer climbed so relentlessly, although the landscape had become more rugged. Sheer cliffs of limestone broke from the bleak sides of mountains. Snow covered the tops and glinted from the depths of crevasses. The streams flowing down from the heights were icy. The onset of winter was close and both women were glad of their hooded, fur-lined cloaks - a parting present from Bykoda. At the end of the morning, a squall of sleet pounded them for an hour and turned the ground to slush.

The day was drawing to a close when they descended into a deep, wooded valley. A piercing wind hissed through the trees, carrying bursts of freezing rain that stung the face like needles. At the bottom of the slope, their trail met with another, wider path. It was well-worn and clearly well-used. Jemeryl reined in her horse and looked both ways along the path. Her head leaned slightly to one side as if listening.

"Of course. The dwarves. Several clans live in these mountains." she exclaimed.

"Dwarves? I saw some in Lyremouth. They seemed alright."

"Those you meet in the Protectorate are a bit unusual. Most won't have anything to do with humans, but they travel a lot among themselves. They're very keen on keeping in touch with all their relatives."

"What you mean is, this lot won't be friendly to us." Tevi said bluntly.

Jemeryl's nose wrinkled in a grimace. "It might depend what side of bed they got out of this morning but, as long as we play it right, they shouldn't give us trouble. They've learned to treat human sorcerers with respect. They don't have any of their own, although they all possess extra senses to humans. They can see in the dark for example and they're immune to illusion."

"I thought they were just like us... except a bit shorter."

"That's deceptive. They're really quite strange. They have their own laws and codes of behaviour, totally centred around family, wealth and revenge."

Tevi shrugged. "Doesn't sound so different to some people I've met."

"The dwarves are an awful lot more excessive about it." Jemeryl smiled and then pursed her lips. "Do you have any idea which direction Levannue went in? Up until now there's been nothing to distract from her aura but the dwarves confuse things around here."

Tevi dropped to the ground and paced a few yards in either direction. Where the road led east, she crouched down and brushed aside a wind-blown covering of leaves. "This way." she announced with confidence.

The new trail kept to the valley floor, driving deep into a high mountain range. The peaks rose on either side, while the walls of the valley became closer and steeper, until they were passing along a wide, flat-bottomed gorge. Bare faces of limestone gleamed ghostly white as the light faded. At dusk, they camped in the shelter of a knot of stunted trees, enveloped in thick, matted undergrowth.

The cold wind blustered and sighed throughout the night, rustling the leaf-litter. Towards dawn, it strengthened with a damp heaviness that carried the promise of rain. In the gloomy, overcast light, Tevi and Jemeryl continued their pursuit. They had been travelling for less than an hour when they came across the doused remains of a campfire at one end of a narrow clearing. Tevi poked at the embers. Smoke wafted from the charred logs.

"How long?" Jemeryl whispered at her shoulder.

"Half an hour - maybe a little more."

Jemeryl was about to return to the path, but Tevi's eyes picked out an opening in the bushes on the far side of the clearing. A faint track wove through the tress. It was probably the work of deer, but something much larger - the size of a horse, had recently passed along it.

"I think she went this way."

For the sake of quietness, they left their own horses in the clearing and crept along the rough track. Klara flapped from tree to tree ahead of them. Suddenly, the hefty snort of a horse broke the silence. The sound came from less than fifty yards away. Tevi froze. Nothing could be seen through in the dense undergrowth ahead. She glanced back over her shoulder, hoping for guidance, but Jemeryl had her eyes closed. As the minutes passed, her face became more confused.

"Klara can't find her." Jemeryl whispered, almost soundlessly.

Slowly, inching from bush to bush, the two women advanced until they reached the end of the trees. Before them, a piled slope of broken rock lined the foot of a towering cliff-face. Levannue's horse wandered, alone and packless, a little way off. There was no sign of Levannue herself. Jemeryl edged into the open and looked at the weathered wall of limestone. Deep cracks gashed the surface and, here and there, caves punched black chasms into the rock.

"She's entered the dwarf mines." Jemeryl said.

"Do we wait for her to come out again?"

Jemeryl shook her head. "I don't think she's coming out. Otherwise, she'd have taken better care of her horse and not let it wander."

"I'm not sure if I fancy following her in there." Tevi said, uneasily.

"Nor do I. It would be impossible to track her down. We'd be more likely to run foul of the dwarves first."

"Won't they object to Levannue?"

"They will if they find her. It might depend on what her plan is."

"Might she be in league with them?" Tevi asked.

"Unlikely, or she'd do the same thing we're going to."

"Which is?"

"Go in by the front door."

*****

They collected Levannue's horse and returned to the main path. The threatened rain held off while they rode a mile or so deeper into the mountains. On either side, the walls of the gorge pulled ever closer until the tops of cliffs hung over them. The already dull light was reduced still further. The trees ended and were replaced, first by straggling shrubs and ivy, and then by cushions of moss. In the barren landscape of broken rock, sounds echoed from the walls before being snatched away by the cold wind.

The floor of the gorge climbed in high steps. Paths had been hacked into the rock, which allowed the horses to pass with little trouble. A small river cascaded down the valley in a series of gushing waterfalls. Spray was whipped up by the wind. The gorge had narrowed to barely fifty feet, when they rose over one final step to see a fortified wall before them, spanning the valley floor. The battlements stood nearly three times the height of Tevi. In the middle were heavy wooden doors, firmly shut. The river poured out through a barred culvert to the side.

Shouts and the sounds of frantic activity erupted behind the wall as they approached. Heads moved behind the parapet and then were still. When they were within twenty yards of the gates, Jemeryl dismounted and gestured for Tevi to do the same. They walked a short way clear of the horses and stopped. Nothing could be heard except for the rush of water and hollow shuffling of hooves on bare rock. Only the glint of helmets and arrowheads revealed the presence of the dwarves.

"I don't suppose you speak common dwarvish?" Jemeryl whispered to Tevi.

"No. Don't you?" Tevi replied, startled.

"Only a few standard phases. I'm not up to holding conversations. If I'd known we were coming here, I'd have brought a translating device."

"If I'd known we were coming here, I'd have slit Levannue's throat back in Uzhenek." Tevi muttered.

Jemeryl raised her voice. "Llig duhli kurtorct. Tivil duhli Torgan ut." She smiled wryly at Tevi. "I'm hoping that was We come in peace. Take us to your leader."

"Zkath drogn ritu." The cry came back from the wall.

"What did that mean?" Tevi asked.

"I haven't got a clue, except I think it was a question."

"How about Why don't you go away?" Klara suggested a translation.

The shout was not repeated. For a long time, nothing happened, then came the sound of a bar being lifted and the gate opened a crack. A small, bow-legged figure emerged, hefting a large axe and glaring at them belligerently. The dwarf was of stocky build. Although the top of his head came no higher than a human's waist, Tevi estimated that the fists clenched around the axe shaft were as broad as her own. What little could be seen of his clothing was brilliant blue but it was almost completely covered in chain mail and bands of armour. A long red beard spilled over his chest.

The dwarf advanced slowly and walked around them. Once the circuit was complete, he stood in front of the two women, staring intensely. Seen close to, his eyes were dark, devoid of whites or pupils. Tevi smiled in what she hoped would be considered a friendly fashion.

"Trogn duh." The dwarf spat out the words but, as he turned to go, he gestured for Jemeryl and Tevi to follow. Three other dwarves slipped out to claim the horses.

Inside the wall, was an enclosed courtyard, lined on all sides by low stone buildings that could have been either stables or barracks. Ahead, was a sheer cliff face, breached by the mouth of a large cave from which the river gushed, bubbling over rocks that littered its bed. Tattered strands of vegetation adorned its edges.

The road continued unchecked, plunging into the cave to one side of the leaping water. It disappeared into the darkness. A score of dwarves were assembled in the open. More lined the top of the wall, while others peered from the buildings. The harsh shouts of the captain spurred eight heavily armed warriors to form up as a guard around Tevi and Jemeryl. Further gestures indicated that the two women, with their escort, should proceed into the cave.

By the time they had gone sixty yards, the light from the entrance had faded to merely a sheen on the wet rock floor. A turn in the road left them in darkness so thick it seemed to fold about them. It made no difference whether Tevi opened or closed her eyes. Only the ground beneath her feet and the touch of a breeze on her cheek relived her of the sensation she was adrift in a black void. The dwarves marched on. One pressed a hand into Tevi's back but, despite the urging, her footsteps faltered.

"Jem, can you see anything?"

"It's all right, I'm creating a light-globe." Jemeryl's voice rang out.

"Won't the dwarves mind?"

"Maybe, but it might be as well for them to know that I can."

A glow blossomed in the darkness, growing into a steady ball of light. It illuminated the tunnel in a stark contrast of pale limestone and black shadows, and glinted off the grotesque stalactite formations that rolled in molten globules down the rough rock walls. The chain links of the guards' armour threw back the light.

Although they may have had no use for it, the dwarves were certainly aware of the light source. Its creation was greeted by a sharp burst of guttural muttering. There was no direct appeal to Jemeryl but backs stiffened. Thereafter, the dwarves marched with crisper discipline. They clearly were treating their guests with more respect.

The road continued through high echoing vaults and narrow galleries. For a long time, it climbed on a gentle winding ramp, before descending by spiral stairway cut into the rock. The river disappeared and returned repeatedly, thundering violently along the eroded basins of a deep channel. It was finally lost and its roar faded into the distance. Frequent passages lead off from main route. The dark shafts and fissures swallowed the beams from Jemeryl's light-globe as they passed.

They had gone about two miles into the mountain, when Tevi noticed that the nature of cave had changed. The floor had always been as level as the streets of Lyremouth but now the walls were also smooth and regular and, increasingly, they met with other parties of dwarves. These viewed the humans with hard suspicious scowls. Wooden doorways started to appear on the walls. From beyond the circle of light, came the sound of voices, growing ever more numerous. Soon, they walked in busy streets where shouts from the guards were needed to clear the way. The crowds, surging around at waist height, made Tevi feel out of scale.

They turned a corner and entered a wide thoroughfare. Columns were carved from the rock on either side. Dwarven faces of stone glared sternly from friezes. This was clearly the heart of the city. The doorways opening onto the road were grander than any yet seen. The largest of all were huge double doors at the far end. A dozen dwarf warriors stood guard outside. They stepped back to allow the women and their escort to enter.

A short corridor ended in a large hall with a raised dais at one end. The floor had been polished to a mirror shine. On all sides, the walls were covered with warlike banners and racks displaying weaponry - axes, bows and spears. Embossed patterns ran across the ceiling. The guards melted into shadows at the corners of the hall and two officials took their place. These dwarves were also dressed in a military fashion, although their armour was clearly more ceremonial than warlike.

"The royal audience hall, no doubt." Jemeryl said, as she and Tevi were directed to a spot several yards from the dais.

News of their arrival had obviously preceded them. The hall was a confused bustle of activity as dwarves ran in and out, shouting what were presumably instructions, although no one appeared to be paying attention. Sounds faded to an excited muttering and then silence fell as an elderly dwarf was escorted into the hall. He stood proudly in the centre of the dais and glared down at the visitors. The armour he wore gleamed golden. Precious stones glinted in the dragon motif that coiled around his breastplate. His stubby hands were heavy with rings.

"The King?" Tevi whispered.

Jemeryl nodded as she examined the people standing in the group behind him. "Hopefully, one of his retinue is an interpreter... one way to find out." She raised her voice. "Our greetings to your Majesty. May your wealth be as great as your wisdom."

Tevi heard Jemeryl's sigh of relief as one dwarf stepped forward and loudly translated her words. The King nodded sternly in acknowledgement but made no reply.

Jemeryl continued. "We have come to offer our help. A source of danger has just entered your kingdom."

This time, the King spoke loudly in a harsh guttural voice. "Zkorn kaligwi ritu ut drogn duhli. Zkorn throgal ritu lan duhli."

"Why think you we need warnings? Why offer you to help us?" the interpreter provided.

"We come from the Protectorate of Lyremouth in search of a traitor who has hidden in your kingdom. It is true we want her for crimes against the Protectorate but, while she is here, she is a danger to you and your subjects."

"You have lose her. Us you want find her. You can go. If we find her, in our land, we deal with her. We need not your help." came the translated answer.

"I think you might." Jemeryl said mildly. "The traitor is a Protectorate sorcerer, like myself."

When these words were translated, the King frowned and examined the two women, as if taking them seriously for the first time. He stroked his beard while whispers ran up and down the hall.

"What help offer you?" The tone of the interpreter also seemed to reflect a different mood.

"We can tell you the place where she entered your kingdom. If you find her and lead us to her, I will attempt to capture or kill her. She is a great sorcerer. It may be beyond my power to defeat her but you lose nothing by my trying."

"Perhaps she is the good sorcerer. Perhaps you is the danger. What proof have you?"

"None, except the evidence of my good faith in that I came to you. It is my enemy that has stolen into your kingdom like a thief." Jemeryl paused while that was translated and then added, "And at the worst case, if you take my offer, you will have only one, rather than two sorcerers to deal with."

"We think about it."

The King gave one last, hard glare and then turned and left the hall. All about them, the assembly broke into a collection of confused melees.

"I may not know the language, but from the King's posture I think the answer is yes." Tevi whispered at Jemeryl's shoulder, as they were led from the hall.

"Of course. Stupid kings don't last long among the dwarves. He can't afford to have Levannue on his land any more than Bykoda could."

They were taken through a maze of narrow corridors. Tevi and Jemeryl were repeatedly obliged to duck to go through low openings. At last, they reached a full height door and were ushered through. The room beyond was obviously intended to be their quarters while they were in the dwarf city. Saddlebags from the horses were already piled in the centre.

The room was a lavish display of wealth, although the decoration was grossly overdone to human eyes. Everything was covered in intricate designs with shimmering bright colours. Gold and silver inlays were abundant. The furniture was a haphazard collection of sizes but at least some of it had been made with humans in mind. There were even gilt candleholders fastened on the walls.

Once their hosts had gone, Tevi walked to a chair and sat down. It was somewhat lower than she would have liked, forcing her to sit with her legs out straight, but was not too uncomfortable.

"Do you think we'll be here long?" she asked.

"Hopefully not. I'd guess that search parties are being dispatched at this very moment."

"Good. I hope they find her quickly. I'm not keen on living underground."

"And I don't think the dwarves are keen on having us here. They won't waste time. Like you, I'm not sure how long I can put up with the decoration." Jemeryl said with a wry grin.

"Oh well, look on the bright side, it's nice to be with men who look the part."

Jemeryl frowned, confused. "What?"

"The bright colours and beards. I've never got used to men on the mainland shaving. It doesn't seem quite right." Tevi said, smiling.

"They're not men." Jemeryl reminded her.

"All right, they're dwarves - but at least you can be sure they're male."

Jemeryl shook her head. "Actually you can't. Dwarves are hermaphrodites."

"But..." Tevi was lost for words.

"I'll admit most people get confused by the beards. But technically, all dwarves should be referred to as it, rather than he."

Tevi stared at Jemeryl and then slid down in the chair. With a sound, halfway between a laugh and a groan of despair, she buried her face in her hands.

Chapter 7: The Cairn and the Remembrance

For all the opulence of their room, Tevi and Jemeryl were held as virtual prisoners. A guard was always outside their door. Servants came regularly to attend to them and occasionally the interpreter would arrive with questions but they were never allowed out. The time dragged on. For diversion, they requested chalk and a slate and Jemeryl gave Tevi her first writing lessons.

By Tevi's estimation, it was in the early morning of their fifth day in the dwarf city that news finally came of Levannue. Tevi was practising her letters, sitting cross-legged on the floor, which she found preferable to the low chairs. Jemeryl was stretched out on the bed, feeding the last of her breakfast to Klara and watching the concentration on Tevi's face with an expression of amused affection, when the door opened and the interpreter returned in the company of two other dwarfs.

Tevi scrambled to her feet to greet the visitors, expecting further questions, and Jemeryl swivelled around so she was sitting on the side of the bed. The interpreter was a small yet extremely rotund figure, stout even by the standard of dwarves. Unlike the others, he wore only the most token attempt at armour, a light chain surcoat on which the securing buckles were left undone, so the mail flapped loosely over his bulging stomach. Tevi studied his girth with interest. She had frequently wondered whether he was pregnant or simply overweight.

"We found the one you hunt. You get ready to go now." the interpreter said in his rasping tones.

"Does she know that she's been found?" Jemeryl asked.

"How we tell what a sorcerer know?" The interpreter talked briefly with one of the other dwarves. "We think not. We careful were."

"Is she far away?" Tevi asked her own question.

"Four, five hours. No more. We give you food. We take you there. What else you need now?"

"I don't..." Tevi started to say.

Jemeryl interrupted. "Could you get my friend a lantern? I can make my own light but she might need something..." she paused, avoiding Tevi's eyes. "In case we become separated."

"We see. Pack you, now. Soon be here the guide." After rigid bows, the three dwarves left.

"What did you mean about becoming separated?" Tevi demanded as soon as they were alone.

"Levannue is a very experienced sorcerer. She may defeat me." Jemeryl replied, while shoving items into the saddlebags. She stopped abruptly and turned to face Tevi. "Is there any point in me asking you to stay here?"

"None at all."

"It would be wisest. Or you could go to the entrance and wait for me there. If I didn't show up within a day, you could try and get news back to the Guardian."

"I'm not leaving you." Tevi said firmly.

"I'd be happier knowing you were safe."

"But how would I feel, knowing you were in danger? Anyway, it's irrelevant, you're going to beat Levannue." Tevi picked up a bag and started to help with packing. She forced a smile. "...or I'll never forgive you."

Their guides were ten heavily armed dwarf warriors. They arrived just as Tevi and Jemeryl were tightening the final drawstring on their bags. The dwarves formed a silent, surly line in the corridor outside the room. One presented a small brass lantern to Tevi. She slipped it into the top of a bag with a meaningful glare at Jemeryl.

The captain of the dwarf band spoke. "We go now." His accent was so guttural as to almost make the words unintelligible, but it was a relief to the two women that he understood at least some of their language.

The departure through the network of streets added little to their scant knowledge of the dwarf city. Tevi suspected the circuitous route was chosen to avoid things the dwarves did not want seen. Their hosts had shown an intrinsic love of secrecy. Apart from Jemeryl's conjured globe, the only light they saw was on an altar-like structure, glimpsed briefly in the distance. The party skirted a large auditorium, with a frozen crystal fountain at the centre, but their escort would not let Jemeryl stop to examine it.

Soon, the inhabited sections of the caves were left behind. For a time, they travelled on level paths hewn into the rock. The route then continued into natural caverns with slick, treacherous, sloping floors. The caves seemed to stretch on forever. The party scrambled, climbed and slid their way for several more hours, until the dwarves stopped in a large cavern.

The captain pointed to narrow slit, opening half way up one side of the chamber. "In there. She sleep."

He began to climb the rough rock wall, heedless of the dislodged stones that bounced echoing to the floor of the cave.

"Won't she hear?" Tevi asked, confused.

"No. She sleep I say." the captain threw over his shoulder.

"What does he mean?" Tevi turned her questions to Jemeryl.

"I'm not sure, but we might as well go and look."

"And just hope a surprise attack isn't required." Klara added.

They dropped their packs and followed the dwarf captain. The cracked surface presented an easy climb to the cleft in the rock wall. When they reached it, they saw the opening was the entrance to a sloping shaft about twenty feet in length. It was so narrow in parts that Tevi and Jemeryl were forced to squeeze through sideways. By the time they edged into the low-roofed chamber beyond, the dwarf captain was leaning against the wall, waiting for them impatiently and pointing at something the middle.

The space before them was maybe fifty feet across. The floor was hollowed out like a dish. Across the ceiling ran lines of small stalactites. In the centre was a shimmering transparent green sphere encasing a limestone block. Lying motionless on this platform was Levannue.

"Oh, of course." Jemeryl exclaimed, under her breath.

"Is she alive?" Tevi asked softly.

"Yes. She's created a force field around herself and gone into a trance. There's no need to whisper. We won't wake her - the roof collapsing wouldn't do that."

"How long can she stay like this?"

"Indefinitely. Entranced sleep is easy to induce. You can set when you want to wake and even have an energy influx so you don't need food. The drawback is that you still grow old, but that's no longer a problem for Levannue."

Tevi took a few steps closer to the barrier and studied the sleeping sorcerer. "I wonder if this hasn't been her intention all along - the reason why she came north. She could stay here a hundred years, even a thousand years, and not come out until people have stopped looking for her. She could wait until everyone who knows what she'd done is dead."

"You could be right. These caves are a good place to hide. The dwarves might have found her, even without our advice, but they couldn't get to her and they wouldn't have gone rushing out to tell anyone. In fact, they'd have made a very good guard. And, even if rumours did get back to Lyremouth, what would they have been? Simply a tale of a mysterious woman, asleep in a distant northern cave."

"So can we leave her here and go for more help from Lyremouth?"

Jemeryl thought it over. "We don't know how long she means to stay put. She might be merely sleeping out winter and be gone by the time we return."

"Is that likely?"

"She can't be certain the ghouls got us. She may well be intending to spend decades in a trance but she doesn't have to do it here. The safest thing, from her point of view, would be to move to a new secret location come spring, before we have a chance to return with reinforcements." Jemeryl drew a deep breath. "And we can't risk losing her again."

"So what now? Can you break down the barrier?" Tevi asked.

"Yes."

"What can I do to help?"

"Nothing, except stay safely away."

"There must be something." Tevi protested.

"There's nothing you could do, except be a weak spot. If Levannue directed an attack at you, I'd have to drop my own defence to shield you." Jemeryl reached out and squeezed Tevi's shoulder. "I'm afraid I'm in this one on my own. Come on; let's go back to our packs. I might as well have something to eat first."

They returned to the outer cavern and found some provisions in their bags, however neither of the women had much appetite. The thought of the coming battle left Tevi's mouth dry. Food stuck as a hard lump in her throat and she found it impossible to swallow.

Jemeryl stared sombrely at her meal but made little attempt to eat. "I would be so much happier if you were a long way away from here."

"There wouldn't be much point. Levannue must realise that I'm the only one, apart from you, who knows where she is. If she kills you, she'll chase me all the way back to the Protectorate to keep her whereabouts a secret."

"Maybe." Jemeryl sighed.

In unspoken agreement the pair stopped the pretence of a meal and packed away the unwanted food. The lantern was lit. Jemeryl faced the entrance to Levannue's chamber and squared her shoulders.

"Whichever way the battle goes, it won't take long. If I don't come out after it goes quiet, you should sneak back into the cave. Even if I don't kill Levannue, I might injure her. If she's weak or unconscious it will be the best chance you'll get to finish her." Jemeryl turned her head so her eyes met Tevi's. "Wish me luck."

Tevi wrapped her arms about Jemeryl. "Take care. I love you."

"I know and I love you."

Tevi closed her eyes and kissed Jemeryl's mouth very slowly and deliberately. She didn't want to even consider the idea that this might be the last time but she couldn't stop herself making mental notes, as if trying to impress on her memory how it felt to hold Jemeryl in her arms and feel their lips and tongues moving together in soft exploration.

Jemeryl was the one who broke away. She stared for long seconds into Tevi's eyes. "I'll always love you. Please, never forget that."

There was nothing else to be said and no other excuse for delay. Jemeryl slipped from the embrace and then, with Klara on her shoulder, climbed to the opening and disappeared from Tevi's view.

*****

Nothing had changed inside the chamber. Levannue lay in her enchanted sleep; Jemeryl viewed her foe uneasily. It would be a straightforward trial of strength. Surprise was on her side but Levannue had years more experience. Jemeryl reached up to stroke the magpie. Klara was probably her best weapon, allowing her to attack Levannue from two directions at once. It might make the crucial difference.

She sent the magpie to a perch on the far side of the chamber and then grasped her sorcerer's staff firmly in both hands. The force field was a knot in the sixth dimension, unbreakable to the ungifted, but easily loosened by those who could see it for what it was. It was a simple exercise for Jemeryl to reach out and strip back the bonds.

The force field burst apart in a storm of light and sound. Jemeryl was prepared for some sort of booby-trap; even so, she was knocked to the ground. A bruising rain of broken stalactites fell around her. The blast left her momentarily blinded and deafened. She fought her way to her feet, rubbing her eyes clear of dust, and saw that Levannue was also recovering from her violent awakening. The two sorcerers studied each other coldly. Only the distant echo of dripping water broke the silence.

"Will you surrender?" Jemeryl asked.

Her answer was a slashing kick of raw power, ripping through the ether, but the attack was miscued and easily parried.

The fight was brief. Three times Levannue sent balls of white lightning hurtling towards Jemeryl. A desperate effort was needed to dissipate the bolts before they struck and Jemeryl was pushed backwards by the force. Then, she made her own assault, opening a drain under Levannue and attempting to suck all heat into the rock below. The older sorcerer dammed the out-flow of energy, responding more quickly than Jemeryl would have thought possible. The speed of the riposte loosened Jemeryl's hold on the lines of power. Immediately, Levannue caught and twisted the eddying forces, ready to subvert the flow for her own use. However she had committed herself to a path of attack and shifted her guard.

Jemeryl seized the chance. From a mesh with Klara, she sent a hail of invoked darts towards her enemy's back that caught Levannue by surprise. The older sorcerer raised a shield, moving with frantic haste, yet she only just reacted in time and her defence was awkward and unwieldy. Her aura was knocked off balance and her grip on the lines of power weakened. Before she could recover, Jemeryl struck out, aiming at the ether rather than her shielded opponent. The shock waves tore control of the sixth dimension from Levannue's persona. Again, Jemeryl ripped open the drain, and this time there was no way for her opponent to counter the freezing onslaught. Ice washed over Levannue's feet, flowing up her legs in a surging tide.

Levannue's eyes fixed on Jemeryl in horror and despair. "NO!"

A last pleading hand shot out towards Jemeryl. The sound of Levannue's scream faded. She flung back her head and raised both arms to the ceiling. Thunderbolts shot from her fingertips. As the encircling ribbons of ice reached Levannue's heart, the roof of the vault came crashing down about their heads.

*****

The last beams from Jemeryl's light-globe were swallowed in the depths of the cleft. Tevi shuffled backwards to sit resting against the opposite wall with her eyes locked, unwavering, on the opening. In the lantern glow, it was only a faint suggestion off a black shadow on the rock face.

Long minutes dragged by with no apparent action. The effort of staring into the darkness made Tevi's eyes sting and the growing sense of helplessness inflamed her nerves. There was nothing she could do, no exertion in which to lose either the tension that set her hands shaking or the fear that settled as a dead weight in her stomach. She let her attention be caught momentarily by the dwarves, standing several yards away and muttering among themselves in their rasping guttural language. However, they provided no more than the flimsiest of distractions.

The first explosion had Tevi leaping to her feet, drawn to the shaft entrance. After two indecisive steps, she halted. A heavy silence again claimed the caves, while the last echoes rumbled away through the dark underworld. Even the dwarves stopped talking and stood like Tevi, staring upwards. For a time, nothing was heard. Tevi began to wonder if the battle could be over already, and then three ear-splitting roars boomed from the inner cavern. For half a minute, the sounds of raging chaos rose and fell, until all was overwhelmed in the most violent explosion of all. The ground shook. A billowing jet of dust erupted in slow motion from the fissure while, in the background, the pounding of falling rock went on and on. And then, all was quiet.

It took a moment for Tevi to register the meaning of what she had just heard before she sprinted across the cave and vaulted onto a thin ledge running just below the fissure. She balanced the lantern in a niche in the rock, which freed her hands to gain a more secure hold. At the very edge of the entrance, a large flake of limestone, a yard in length, had chipped loose from one side and was now wedged across the shaft. Further beyond, Tevi could see other dams of rubble blocking the way, until all vision was lost in the clouds of dust that eddied and glittered in the oblique rays of the lantern. She wrapped her fingers around the first block and threw all her strength into the struggle to pull it free, heedless of the abrasions torn into her hands.

The dwarf captain stood below her. "All dead. We go now."

His shout was ignored.

"We go now." he repeated irately.

At the shaft entrance, Tevi had one knee braced against the cave wall. Every muscle in her body was straining in the effort to shift the jammed rock. She changed her hold to pull upwards and out, and was rewarded when she felt the stone under her hands shift slightly. Slowly, the rock was jerked clear, leaving deep lines gouged in the sides of the fissure. When it finally shot free, it nearly took Tevi with it in its crashing fall to the floor of the cave. The captain yelped as he dived out of the way of the resulting avalanche. The muttering of the dwarves ceased abruptly. Tevi slid into the shaft until she met the next blockage. This consisted of smaller debris that were quickly plucked free and tossed away.

The captain climbed cautiously to the opening. He stuck his head over the edge, careful to dodge the flying stones. "We help. Then you go." he suggested.

Tevi stopped her work and looked back. "You'll help me get through to her?"

"We think rock. We good, or fall more rock. We good."

The offer seemed genuine and sensible. Tevi nodded and edged out of the shaft to make way for her replacements. Within seconds, the captain's barked commands oversaw a relay of dwarves working in the fissure, passing back the broken stone. The stream of excavated rubble built up in a mound on the floor of the cave while Tevi paced impatiently.

Twice, the dwarves met with more stubborn obstacles, so that Tevi, with her greater strength, was called on for help. Once, a fresh fall of loose chippings caused a momentary panic but, in less than an hour, a route had been cleared to the inner chamber. Tevi was the third to slip through. She turned up the wick on her lantern and looked around.

The cavern had been reduced to half its size from her previous visit. The right side was now lost under huge fractured slabs. Piles of smaller rubble littered the floor between deep cracks that radiated out from the rockslide. Of the stalactites, only a few broken stubs still hung from the ceiling. Just to the left of the entrance, a mound of boulders hid her view of part of the chamber. Tevi stepped forward. The area behind had sustained less damage and, lying unconscious in a clear patch, was Jemeryl.

All other considerations were forgotten as Tevi rushed to her lover's side, scrambling over smashed boulders and skidding on fragments of broken stalactite. Her panic eased only when she had her ear pressed to Jemeryl's chest and heard the heartbeat. In the yellow lamplight, Jemeryl's face was deathly pale and her pulse was quick and erratic. Yet, she was definitely alive. The surge of relief left Tevi feeling light-headed. When she was again able to think clearly, she raised her head and looked around at the devastation. It was obvious that either Jemeryl had been very lucky, or she had been able to protect herself from the main force of the collapsing roof.

The sorcerer lay sprawled on her back, covered in dust and small chips of rock. An out-flung arm was trapped between two larger stones. The arm was bent back sharply just below the elbow and was undoubtedly broken. Blood had trickled from several cuts on Jemeryl's face, while still more flowed from a gash below her knee. Dark bruises marked her skin. There was nothing life threatening, although Jemeryl lay deeply unconscious. A gentle shake to her good shoulder got no response and only the whites of her eyes showed when the lids were pulled back. Tevi sat back on her heels and felt the niggling onset of returning fear.

By now, the whole band of dwarves was inside the cavern. What seemed to be an argument on the fracture forms of limestone had broken out between them. Tevi ignored the babble, until a more excited outburst of words caught her attention. The dwarves had gathered around something hidden behind two large slabs in the centre of the chamber. The captain had climbed onto a nearby boulder and was posing in arrogant fashion. Tevi stood and went to see, even as she guessed the probable cause of the commotion.

Levannue was lying on the floor. The edge of a large block had fallen across her left side, crushing her ribcage and arm. The white ends of broken bone and torn flesh protruded from under the rock, while the force of the impact had sent blood spurting from ears, mouth and nose. Other stones had cracked her skull and mangled her right hand to pulp. Levannue's legs from mid-thigh down were buried under a pile of rock. Blood formed a red carpet on the stone beneath her.

There was no need to test her pulse to be sure that Levannue was dead. Tevi's brief doubt that this might be an illusion was also rejected. Jemeryl had said the dwarves were immune to that particular sort of magic - and, if Levannue were still able to cast spells, she would have no need to disguise her condition.

Tevi looked down at her lifeless enemy, aware of a confusing array of emotions that she was too drained to distinguish. The task given to them by the Guardian was complete, yet Tevi felt no sense of victory. She started to turn away when her eyes caught sight of a saddlebag half buried in the rubble to the right of Levannue's legs. It came free after a few sharp tugs. Tevi slung it over her shoulder and returned to Jemeryl. Meanwhile, the dwarves had apparently decided to complete the work of the rock fall by erecting a cairn over the dead sorcerer's body. Tevi left them to it and paid no further attention to their actions.

A makeshift splint soon had Jemeryl's broken arm strapped securely to her side. Tevi lifted the unconscious woman and carefully made her way towards the exit across the rubble-strewn floor. The dwarves were occupied in taking every carryable rock to pile on Levannue's body. They scurried about the cavern in preoccupied silence but, just as Tevi reached the shaft opening, one of the dwarves gave a startled cry.

Tevi looked across the chamber. The dwarf had levered up a limestone slab. At first, in the wavering lamplight, it was hard to see what had caused the excitement and then Tevi spotted the black and white feathers crushed on the ground - all that was left of something that had once been a magpie.

*****

It was a slow, painstaking job to manoeuvre the dead weight of Jemeryl's inert body through the fissure, all the while taking care not to further damage her broken arm. Eventually, they emerged from the shaft to the outer cavern, with just the last, awkward drop to the cave floor left. By the time Tevi reached the spot where the packs had been deposited, the sound of voices announced that the dwarves had finished Levannue's cairn and were returning. Hopefully, they would soon be ready to depart. Tevi was relieved. There had to be some sort of healer in the dwarf city and Jemeryl needed skilled medical attention as soon as possible.

In Tevi's impatient frame of mind, it took a tortuous amount of time for all the dwarves to reappear and collect their gear. She cursed their indifference as they argued and fussed over nothing; although, once they were ready, two of them did volunteer to help her by carrying the saddlebags. Another took the lamp, which left Tevi free to concentrate on Jemeryl. Even so, the journey was a painful battle over the rugged limestone formations. Tevi's hands were full and her main focus was to protect Jemeryl from harm, so she let her own body absorb the knocks as she slid on glasslike floors and crawled over jagged stone barriers.

After ten minutes of travel, Tevi's knees, knuckles and shoulders were bruised and cut. Her whole world was focused on the search for safe footholds, so she did not notice when the blackness in the distance started to give way to grey. She continued unaware until the first faint beam of natural daylight fell across her path. Then she looked up, surprised. It had been an unquestioned assumption on her part that they would return to the city, however after another five minutes of scrambling the whole group were standing, blinking, in the open air.

Dusk was not far off. Low clouds shrouded the mountains and an ice-cold wind snatched at Tevi's face. The scent of wet earth told of rain not long past. They had emerged at the bottom of a sheer cliff-face. A broken slope of scree cascaded into the woods fifty yards below. Beyond that, a broad valley enclosed a small lake, ringed by mountains to west, east and south. To the north, a silver river flowed away through a marsh. This was not the spot were they had entered the mines or anywhere else Tevi could recognise.

"Why have we come here? Where..." Tevi's words broke off in confusion.

The captain pointed down the hill. "You go now."

"You can't mean that. You said you'd help."

"We help. We find enemy. We take you her. We take you out cave. You go now."

"Jemeryl needs help and we can't travel without our horses."

"All done. No more. You go." The captain voice was becoming strident.

"At least give us back our horses." Tevi protested.

"Horses gone. We eat. You go now."

"We can't."

The mood of the dwarves had been growing more hostile. At a sign from the captain, two dwarfs pulled their bows into sight, although not yet drawn. Other dwarves loosened axes from the straps across their backs. It was an unmistakable threat. Torn between outrage and bewilderment, Tevi backed slowly away. The captain picked up the saddlebags and hurled them past her, down the slope, then stood scowling belligerently.

"Go."

Tevi held the captain's eyes for the space of a dozen heartbeats but, even if her hands were not burdened by Jemeryl, the odds would be hopeless. There was no option except to turn her back on the angry dwarves and walk away. Tevi placed her feet with care on the loose footing and showed what disdain she could by refusing to hurry.

The thrown bags had bounced and rolled down the slope, and finished up entangled in the undergrowth beneath the first trees. With Jemeryl in her arms, it was not easy to pull them free, and get them slung over her shoulder. Tevi looked back towards the cave. The squat figures of the dwarves, guarding the entrance, were almost hidden in the dark interior. Watery daylight just touched the outlines of helmets and axe blades. Tevi's face twisted as she bit back the childish urge to shout futile threats. After a last, bitter glare, she turned and plunged into the forest.

It was dark under the trees but sheltered from the worst of the cutting wind. Tevi was compelled to force her way through a tangle of small branches, using shoulders and arms to shield Jemeryl, until she met a winding deer track heading downhill. The trail allowed her to make better progress through the woods, although with no clear idea where she was headed. Wind swept across the branches overhead in sighing waves, shaking dead leaves loose. Twigs cracked beneath her feet. The route twisted between lichen covered tree trucks and humped tussocks of moss.

After half a mile, the track crossed a shallow river that gurgled and leapt over steps eroded into the bedrock. The forest canopy was broken above the water, but the light falling through the gap in the branches was sullen and dim. Leaden clouds, hanging above the treetops, were darkening to black with the onset of dusk. The shifting white plumes of foam shone with a luminous quality in the gloom. Soon it would be too dark to travel. Tevi halted by the river and looked around.

Slightly upstream, a jutting limestone platform overhung a dry, level bank. The recess was further sheltered from the weather by a dense clump of thicket on the windward side. A drift of leaves was piled high on the ground. It was as good a place to stop as any she was likely to find. A quick check revealed no sharp stones under the leaves. Tevi spread a blanket and lay Jemeryl down gently. Plenty of dead wood was near at hand, quick to burn. Soon Tevi had flames racing over logs in a blazing campfire. The red glow washed over the rough rock wall and chased shadows through the matted bushes, dancing wildly in the gusts of wind.

Tevi made a thorough examination of Jemeryl and tended to her within the limits of their medical resources. Apart from the broken arm, Jemeryl's injuries were superficial and, despite the most careful search, there was no sign of a major blow to the head. Tevi's shoulders slumped. It was the result she had feared - Jemeryl's coma was due to magic; either Levannue's attack or the loss of Klara. The condition was beyond the ability of any ordinary person to understand or help. Tevi did not know what to do, how long the coma might last or how dangerous it was.

Exhaustion and despair overwhelmed Tevi. For a while, she sat, staring blankly into the darkness beyond the fire. The cries of animals in the forest depths rose and fell on the wind. Small things nearby burrowed through the leaf litter. There was no telling what might came to the stream to drink that night, but Tevi could not keep guard alone, now Klara was not there to watch over them as they slept.

Tears of pain and guilt rolled silently down Tevi's face. She had been forced to leave Klara's remains as the dwarf had found them. Jemeryl's needs had come first. Yet, the magpie had deserved the cairn and the remembrance, far more than Levannue the traitor. Tevi could not go back to rectify the omission. All she could do was pray that she would not have cause to build another cairn, for Jemeryl.

Tevi busied herself with the last few tasks about the camp - anything to occupy her hands and thoughts. She banked the fire to keep it safe until morning, and then there was nothing else she could do except try to sleep. Tevi slipped under the blanket and snuggled close to Jemeryl's unmoving form. For once, there was no reassurance in the shared body warmth. After a long, long time, Tevi drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

*****

Tevi awoke in the dreary half-light of the next dawn. Jemeryl's arm was pressed into her back. An icy wet mist rolled through the forest, condensing in large globular drops on every surface and dripping from branches. Damp air deadened the splashing of the nearby stream. It felt as if the cold had welled up from the ground and seeped into Tevi's bones.

There was no sound from Jemeryl. Tevi shuffled around to look at her. The sorcerer had not stirred all night. Her lips were bloodless white and her features flaccid, beyond the relaxation of mere sleep. Tevi reached out in dread to touch Jemeryl's cheek. Her own face crumpled in relief to touch skin that was cold, but soft. The muscle and tendon underneath still held firm. Tevi's fingers slid to Jemeryl's throat. A butterfly-like pulse beat there and the faint wisp of breath from Jemeryl's lips floated away on the cold air.

Tevi crawled from between the blankets and removed the covering of turf from the campfire. Embers still glowed red deep within the ashy remains. Soon, they were fanned back to life. Tevi moved Jemeryl closer to the fire and tried to chaff warmth back into her arms and legs. In Jemeryl's weakened state, the cold might be the finishing blow.

Food and drink were also an issue. Despite the sick tension knotting her stomach, Tevi forced herself to take care of her own needs, but she could do nothing for Jemeryl. She managed to pour a little water into Jemeryl's mouth but could not prompt her to swallow and the liquid dribbled out from between slack lips.

Meanwhile, the light had grown into an overcast grey morning and the last of the mist had been blown away. Tevi buried her head in her hands and wondered what to do with the day. There were not many practical options. It was dangerous to return to the mines and pointless to stay where they were. If Jemeryl should recover, there was still a long trek by foot before they could reach any human habitation and winter would be fast upon them. The only sensible thing was to make a start on the journey and pray that Jemeryl would survive to complete it.

Jemeryl would have to be carried, which meant the baggage needed rationalising. Tevi pulled everything from the three saddlebags, to see what could be discarded. In the bag she had reclaimed from beside Levannue's body was a small bundle wrapped in a woollen cloth. Even before she removed the covering, Tevi knew she held Lorimal's chalice. She cupped it in her hands and stared at it angrily.

The scratched metal surface mirrored the grey sky. It seemed such a small, ordinary thing to have caused so much trouble. In a moment of anguish, Tevi pulled back her arm, ready to hurl the chalice into the forest, but stopped. She could not leave it for someone else to find and misuse. Then everything she and Jemeryl had done would be wasted. Instead, she contented herself with ramming the chalice as hard as she could into the bottom of the largest bag.

There were a few hard decisions before everything was complete. Tevi swung the heavy pack onto her back and flexed her shoulders to settle the weight evenly. The forest was cheerless as she set off between the dank trees with Jemeryl in her arms. Her route switched between animal trails, branching and twisting down the hillside. A spongy layer of moss and leaf-litter covered the earth beneath her feet. It muffled the sound of her steps. At first, the underlying earth was firm but, after an hour of travel, it started to soften and moisture oozed into the depressions left by her feet.

Tevi stopped. The trees were thinning out ahead. Between the knotted trunks, she saw waving bands of reeds and, beyond them, the grey glint of open water. It was Tevi's intention to follow the river she had seen from the mouth of the cave. Hopefully, it would cut a passable route through the mountains. If they could keep heading north, eventually they must cross the Old West Road.

Tevi turned aside and began forcing her way around the edge of the lake. It was not easy. The animal tracks snaked to and from the water but none went in the direction she wanted. The beasts that made them were interested solely in visiting the lake to drink. Under the trees, was a knotted mass of undergrowth. In the open, the long grass concealed a quaking bog that sucked at Tevi's boots and threatened to imprison her.

It was an hour off midday before Tevi finally reached the point where the out-flowing river emerged from the marsh. For the first half-mile, it was just dozens of trickling paths through the reeds but, as the streams coalesced, they grew in speed and power. After another mile, the basin around the lake was left behind and a river rushed, tumbling, down a narrow valley. The water cut deeply into the rock of the mountains. Sheer cliff faces overhung the river and both banks were lined with eroded platforms of rock. Glass-like sheets of green water swept over the broken boulders on the riverbed.

The rocky embankments allowed Tevi to make better progress than in the forest or the marsh, yet treacherous patches of wet moss slicked the smooth surfaces. With Jemeryl in her arms, travel was a constant fight for balance. Even with her potion-enhanced strength, Tevi was forced to stop for frequent rests.

It was at one such break, in late afternoon, that Tevi thought she saw the signs of a path running along the opposite bank. This was confirmed half a mile downstream where a well-marked ford crossed the river to her side. For a short way, this new path kept low on the bank. Then it began to climb the hillside and was lost from sight amidst the trees. The path was clearly much used. The few blades of grass on it were trampled flat and, imprinted in the mud, were the fresh marks of dwarf boots.

Tevi studied them thoughtfully. She had no wish to re-encounter the dwarves but the path would be safer and quicker than the riverbank. There was also a strong likelihood that it would join with the road leading to the dwarf mines. Once she reached somewhere she recognised, it would not be hard be to retrace the route back to the Old West Road. On the other hand, although the river was still flowing due north, there was no saying it would not loop around, or that its banks might become impassable. A few nervous jitters unsettled her stomach but Tevi turned her back on the river and took to the dwarf road.

*****

For the rest of the afternoon, Tevi followed the path while it climbed out of the wooded valley and ran across the less densely covered uplands. The stubby trees were interspersed with bands of gorse that rattled in the cold wind blowing over the hilltops. As evening approached, the sinking sun finally broke from under the clouds, brightening the scene, although adding nothing by way of heat. The oblique rays cast a stretched yellow light over the scene.

Dusk was falling as the path rolled over one more ridge. The terrain ahead of Tevi dropped into a shallow valley that deepened and broadened as it snaked away westward. The dwarven path bent east, climbing to the head of the valley and disappearing over the hilltop. Gorse and patches of light thicket covered the upper valley slopes. A band of stunted trees filled the bottom. Directly opposite the spot where Tevi stood, the ruins of a village clung to the hillside. Crumbling masonry rose above the straggly vegetation, marking the remains of at least thirty buildings with broken doors and gapping windows.

The wind at Tevi's back stiffened; an icy blast stung the exposed skin of her neck. She glanced over her shoulder. New clouds were piling up from the south, thick black thunderclouds that looked too heavy to hang in the sky. Tevi could smell the charged air, carried on the gusting wind. As if to emphasise the point a distant roll of thunder echoed over the mountains.

Memories of Graka urged Tevi to flee the ruins but the coming storm made finding shelter a necessity. Jemeryl would not survive the night in the open. The ruined village was the best shelter they were likely to find. Tevi's heart pounded as she left the path and scrambled down the hillside, but the dangers of the ruins were hypothetical, while the dangers of the storm were not. As she crossed the small stream at the bottom of the valley, the wind rose in earnest, snapping at her clothes. Rain begun to fall, pierced with hail.

The nearest of the buildings was only a dozen yards from the stream. The roots of a young birch had ploughed through its walls. Mounds of rubble lined its base. Other trees grew wild over the site, but the ruins had not been deserted for long - 40 years at most. The remains of wooden doors hung from rusty hinges; tiles still covered many buildings, while the last rotting tatters of thatch flapped from other roofs. Tevi began to climb the hillside, searching anxiously among the ruins for signs of life - or other activity.

The first two structures she passed were completely derelict and offered no shelter. The next was more substantial, a long low building with a wide entrance at one end. Tevi peered in. A central hallway ran the length of the building, lined with empty doorways on either side. It had possibly been a dormitory block or a store. Now the far end was open to the sky but the remaining two thirds kept their roof. Tevi halted by the first inner doorway. The room inside was intact except for a few missing tiles in one corner of the ceiling. The hole let a little rain trickle down the wall and soak into the ground but, apart from this, the floor was dry. Blown leaves and light rubble littered the ground. It looked as if a fox had made a meal of a rabbit in one corner, but there was no other sign of recent occupation.

Tevi lay Jemeryl down and went in search of dry timber. Outside, the wind was blowing in gusts that grew in strength with every minute. Rain whipped across the hillside in stinging belts of sleet. The thunderclouds had reduced the light to darkness. It would be easy to get lost if she went far, but the remains of a door still hang aslant on rusty hinges at the entrance. The old timbers were dry and half-rotten, and easily splintered by a few well-aimed kicks.

Soon Tevi had a fire blazing within a hearth made from a circle of bricks. A row of old nails lined the lintel above the door. Tevi impaled the edge of one blanket on them, so it hung down, keeping in both the heat and light. It was not likely that anyone would be about on such a night, but she had no wish to advertise their presence.

Smoke from the fire rolled and eddied in a layer under the ceiling before slipping out through the crack in the far corner. The blanket over the door snapped as wind gusted down the hallway and, overhead, the tiled roof creaked and rattled, while the pounding of rain rose and fell.

Jemeryl lay motionless beside the fire, wrapped in a second thick blanket. At no time during the day had she showed signs of waking. Now her breathing was growing weaker and the pulse at her throat less stable. A bluish tinge mottled the skin on her cheeks and temples.

While the storm roared over the mountains, Tevi sat watching her. Jemeryl was weakening, fading before her eyes... dying. Tevi turned away, fighting back tears. The fire taunted her with its cheery light, mocking the memories of hearth and home. In a fierce mood, Tevi snapped wood in her hands and fed it to the flames. She knew she should eat and sleep but could not bring herself to care enough to do either.

She could think of nothing to do - at least nothing helpful but, if Jemeryl died, she would return to the mines and see what havoc she could wreak. A suicide attack. Jemeryl had said the dwarves valued revenge. Tevi was sure they would understand.

Chapter 8: The Top of the Pass

Storm-blown debris cartwheeled down the corridor. Wrapped in her plans for revenge, Tevi was hardly aware of the noise. There could be no outside threat worse than what she was already confronting. Nothing else could frighten her. Then, amid the random thuds, came the unmistakable sound of quiet human footsteps, entering the hallway and halting outside the room.

Tevi moved in reflex. Her hand leapt to her discarded sword but, even startled, her training held firm. She slipped it free of its scabbard and rose to her feet without a sound. Firelight rippled over the blanket across the doorway. Tevi watched as a hand appeared around the edge. With unnerving nonchalance, the blanket was drawn aside and a figure stepped into the room. The draft fanned the fire, whipping up flames to illuminate the room and the new arrival.

It was an old man with skin like cracked leather. His body was half-naked and filthy. Rain plastered the scant white hair to his head and ran in clean lines through the dirt smeared across his sunken chest. Tattered rags of clothing flapped against the sinews of his legs. An incongruous garland of flame-coloured leaves sagged wet about his neck. He stared at the ceiling with an expression of irritated confusion.

"Who are you? What do you want?" Tevi kept her voice level although her heart was pounding.

"You're upsetting my storm."

"Who are you?" Tevi repeated.

"You're drowning out the thunder."

"What do you want?"

The old man showed no sign of having heard Tevi's questions. His voice sunk to an incomprehensible mumble, punctuated by, "Whoosh, whoosh" in imitation of the raging wind.

Tevi lowered her sword. The man was clearly mad and probably harmless. Then, suddenly, he dropped to Jemeryl's side and grabbed her shoulder. Tevi leapt forward with a shout. She had taken only one step, when a blow from an invisible fist slammed her backwards. Her shoulders crashed into the wall and knocked the breath from her body. Her sword fell from her hand.

It was several seconds before her head cleared enough to speak. "You're a sorcerer?"

This time he answered. "Silly question. I'm me. I don't need titles. I wanted to watch the storm, but you brought her here and she's all wrong. I could hear her from up on the rocks." He removed his skeletal hand from Jemeryl's shoulder and snorted. "She thinks she's a dead magpie."

"Can you help her?" Tevi hardly dared hope.

"I don't help. I watch."

"She'll die if you don't."

"She'll die if I do. We'll all die. If has never been in question, only when."

The man was clearly one of the sorcerers who lived as mad hermits - he was also Jemeryl's best hope. As calmly as she could, Tevi said, "True. But I don't want the when to be now."

"Of course it will be now. All time is now sometime. It makes no difference in the end."

"Maybe it makes no difference to you, but it does to me. Jemeryl is running out of time. She'll die very soon."

"Yes. Before tomorrow sunset... but not soon enough to save my storm." With a scowl of disgust, the hermit clambered to his feet and headed to the doorway.

"You have to help us." Tevi pleaded.

"No I don't." The blanket swung closed behind him.

The abruptness of his departure left Tevi staring in disbelief at the swaying curtain. Her inaction lasted only a few seconds. She leapt to follow, pushing under the hanging blanket into the dark, deserted hallway. The old, deranged sorcerer was Jemeryl's only chance.

The wind blew in fierce gusts, sweeping a stream of leaves down the corridor. Tevi took a moment to check the dark recesses of the building and then she stepped through the entrance, onto the open hillside. Within seconds, she was soaked to the skin. The storm was pounding the mountains. All around, trees whipped and twisted in the gale. Bushes were flattened beneath the blasts. The savage wind had torn holes in the clouds. Faint silver rays from the crescent moon lit the chaos. Of the hermit, there was no sign.

The stark outlines of ruined buildings were stable points amid the surging vegetation. Tevi fought her way to the nearest and began her search, passing from one to another. Eventually, towards the high side of the village, she found the hovel that was his home. A bed of bracken lined one wall. A cold brick hearth was at the centre. Piles of rags were scattered on the floor but the owner was not there.

The storm had washed away any footprints, yet several paths were discernible through the undergrowth. Tevi tried to shield her eyes from driving rain and look around. An outcrop of rock broke the skyline high above. The hermit claimed to have heard Jemeryl from the rocks. If those were the ones he came from, perhaps he had returned. Tevi took the path heading up the hill.

The trail climbed steeply. It swung to the right of the outcrop, then looped back to approach the rocks from above, where they formed a flat, natural platform - like a stage beneath the storm. The full force of the gale stuck Tevi as she emerged from the last of the trees. Her feet slipped on the wet rock and she was forced to grasp a thick branch for balance. The hermit was in the middle of the wide rock shelf with his back towards her. The remnants of the old man's clothes were shed and he danced naked in the rain to an unheard rhythm. His delicate flowing footsteps seemed strangely at one with the violence of the elements.

Tevi stepped forward. As she did so, the hermit spoke, throwing the words over his shoulder.

"Go away. You've spoiled my storm enough already."

"I need to talk to you." Tevi shouted to be heard over the wind.

"If you come onto my rocks, I'll kill you."

"Maybe you will and maybe you won't. But, if you don't help me, Jemeryl will die and I don't think my life is worth living without her."

Tevi let go of the branch and moved out onto the rocky platform. The old sorcerer spun around, his face livid with fury. A change swept over him. There was no visible alteration in his size, yet, somehow, he seemed huge, as large and wild as the storm itself. He advanced towards Tevi. Lightning leapt between his fingers and reached for her heart. Tevi held her ground, unflinching. The crackling bolts were within inches of her chest, when the man hesitated. His strange illusion of personifying the storm faded.

"You're as mad as me." he spat.

Tevi met his eyes. "I love her. Have you never loved someone?"

The hermit turned his face to the sky. For a long while neither of them moved. Even the wind seemed muted. "Yes." The word was no more than the suggestion of a whisper.

"If you won't help Jemeryl, can't you tell me what to do?"

"Call her."

"How?"

"You know her name, don't you?"

"Is that all?"

"If she wants to come back, she will." The hermit's voice broke, as if his words held some private tragedy.

"Is there nothing else I can do?"

"Wait until dawn. The walls between worlds are softer then. There's a bush by the entrance to my house. Crush three of its berries for her; the taste might help. But call her. That is all you or anyone else can do."

The hermit's voice faded away. His last words were almost inaudible. He breathed in and out heavily, then straightened his neck and looked towards Tevi. His mouth worked soundlessly. Tevi was sure that not all the water about his eyes was rain.

"NOW LEAVE ME." His final howl screeched above the wind.

*****

Throughout the night, Tevi kept watch, not daring to sleep in case she missed daybreak. She fed the fire, rubbed Jemeryl's feet and hands, and paced the hallway. Some time after midnight, the rain moved away and the wind dropped, finally blowing itself out before dawn. It left a raw silence, broken only by the trickle of water and dripping from the eaves of the building.

Tevi stood in the outer doorway. The stars had lost their brilliance. Grey light was spreading from the east. The hill opposite was no longer just a silhouette. The shapes of trees detached themselves from the shadows, coloured with the first hint of green. Tevi glanced at the rocks above the village. It was impossible to tell if the hermit was still at his solitary dance; not that it made any difference; Tevi was sure no more help was to be had from him.

The fire had reduced to a pile of glowing embers. Tevi took down the hanging blanket over the door. The faint new light bleached more colour from the dying fire. Jemeryl was unchanged. Her head lolled back, limp as a rag doll when Tevi cradled her into a sitting position. Jemeryl's jaw dropped open, slack and unresisting. Tevi took the berries from a pocket and crushed them between her fingers. The pulp made a dark stain on the thick white coat on Jemeryl's tongue.

Tevi stared into her lover's face. For a moment, all hope deserted her, but she could not give up - not yet. She lay Jemeryl down and tried to pump some confidence into her heart.

"Jemeryl." Tevi's voice held clear and firm.

There was no response.

"Jemeryl." Tevi repeated, and then "Jem." urgently.

Tevi's hands shook. She sat back on her heels, not knowing what to do. The minutes trickled by and nothing happened. Tevi returned to her calling, trying to vary her tone, volume, emphasis - anything she could think of; all in vain. After a hundred times or more, she broke off and leapt to her feet, ready to chase down the hermit. She stopped. The light in the hallway was strong enough to reveal the paler lines of mortar between the stones. The first true shaft of daylight ghosted the upper wall. Dawn had broken.

Tevi fell back to her knees and stared at Jemeryl's face. She was raked by sickening gut-wrenching pain. In agony, Tevi flung back her head and screamed at the top of her voice, "JEMERYL."

A faint shudder washed over the unconscious woman, then a longer, slower movement as muscles tensed. Jemeryl's eyelids fluttered open. Disbelief held Tevi frozen for a moment before she hauled her lover into her arms.

Jemeryl gasped and made a feeble effort to free herself from the crushing embrace. Her voice was a dry whisper. "Careful. My arm hurts."

*****

A nearby building yielded a few more timbers that were used to revive the fire. Jemeryl sat shivering in silence while Tevi recounted all that had happened since Levannue bought down the cavern roof. Tevi repeatedly broke off, sending anxious looks in her direction. Jemeryl replied with a few wan smiles but mostly her eyes were fixed on the flames.

"I didn't realise when the hermit said call you, he meant bawl my lungs out - but it worked alright, and you'll be okay now, won't you?" Tevi finished nervously.

There was no answer. Tevi reached over and stroked her hand gently against Jemeryl's face. Jemeryl leaned into the caress and closed her eyes.

"Klara..."

"She's dead." Tevi spoke the words softly.

"I know."

"She can't have suffered. It must have been very quick."

"It was." Jemeryl's face contorted in grief. "When I realised what Levannue was doing, I put a field up to cover myself. I should have cut loose from Klara, but I couldn't bear to let her go. I tried to shield her as well, but I wasn't strong enough. The stone hit her and she... wasn't there anymore - just a big hole. I felt myself falling in and... I'm lost without her. My senses are blown away. I can't tell where I am. It's like being buried. I can't even see you, except with my eyes, and I could always see you so clearly." Jemeryl slumped forward and rested her head on her knees.

"You can't see me? But you're not blind." Tevi said, puzzled. "Do you mean your extra senses?"

Jemeryl nodded.

"All of them?"

"I... it's..." Jemeryl was unable to finish.

"You mean you're not a sorcerer anymore?" Tevi bit her tongue at her tactlessness.

"No." Jemeryl's shoulders shook with quiet sobs.

Tevi held her close for a long time. Eventually, Jemeryl rallied herself, sufficient to push free. Her expression became apologetic at the distress on Tevi's face.

"I'm sorry, my love. I didn't mean to upset you."

"You'll get better." Tevi said confidently. "Won't you?"

"I don't know. I must get back to the Protectorate; perhaps someone there can help, but right now I won't qualify as a third rate witch. I'm almost ungifted." Jemeryl tried to force a brave smile to her face. "It's awful. I don't know how you stand it."

"It's all I'm used to. Come on, you'll feel better after breakfast."

"I don't know if I can face food."

"You didn't eat yesterday."

"I know. I feel as if I've been through a mangle. My head aches and my arm's throbbing... I can tell you did a good job with it, but..." Jemeryl meet Tevi's eyes. "I don't mean to sound pathetic... just hold me for a while longer, please."

Tevi did so; however, they both felt a rising sense of urgency. There was a long walk ahead of them, all the worse with Jemeryl's weakened state, and they dare not let winter catch them in the wildlands. After a few minutes of comfort in each other's arms, they ate and packed quickly, and soon they were ready to leave.

Once outside the building, it was clear that Jemeryl was not exaggerating her frailty. She needed help to cross the small stream and was stumbling by the time they were halfway up the hillside of heather and dead ferns. When she slid to her knees for the second time, Tevi ignored her protests and carried her as far as the dwarf road. Once they had reached it, the two of them stood looking back at the village, while Jemeryl caught her breath. There was no sign of the old hermit.

"I guess it's the remains of the old retreat. He must be the last survivor." Jemeryl said, between gulps of air. "I wish I could remember what it was they were studying. Did he give any clues?"

"Maybe some sort of dancing academy. Or do all sorcerers have innate grace and rhythm?"

"I'm afraid not. As you'll discover from my own abilities if we get back to Lyremouth in time for the midwinter festival."

Tevi's smile became a yawn; she was tired from her sleepless night. She turned to squelch through the string of muddy puddles dotting the path, saying nothing, but she knew there was no hope of reaching Lyremouth by midwinter. They would be doing well just to get over the Barrodens and back into the Protectorate before bad weather made travel impossible.

*****

The dwarf road climbed over the ridge at the head of the valley and down again, through groves of spindly trees on a boulder covered slope. The sky was clear but the raw wind snapped at the hems of their cloaks. At the bottom of the next valley, the path swung round to the south-east. In her exhaustion, Jemeryl's eyes were fixed on the road beneath her feet. She did not notice when a rough track dropped down the side of the valley to join their path. It only just registered that Tevi had stopped walking.

"We've gone round in a circle."

Jemeryl looked up in confusion. "We've done what?"

Tevi pointed to the track. "When we were chasing Levannue, this is where we joined with the road to the dwarf mines. I've been thinking for the last few minutes that the scenery was starting to look familiar. I didn't say anything, in case it was just wishful thinking. But now, I'm sure that this is the way back to the Old West Road."

Jemeryl nodded wearily. "I think you're right." She started up the track but Tevi remained standing on the dwarf route.

"Is there something else?" Jemeryl asked when she realised Tevi was not following.

"It isn't far to the mine entrance."

"And?"

"Do you think they've really eaten the horses? It would make the journey so much easier if we had them."

"I couldn't say. Dwarfs don't go in much for riding, but horses are valuable. They might be kept to sell. However, we can't take on the entire dwarf clan, certainly not with me in this state."

Tevi scowled in the direction of the mines, but then turned and followed Jemeryl on the steep track. Thick mud clung to their shoes. Before they were a third of the way up, Jemeryl was gasping for breath and deathly pale. Yet, she stubbornly continued putting one shaky foot in front of the other.

"Don't be silly, I'll carry you." Tevi said at last.

Jemeryl was unwilling to accept her own weakness. "You can't carry me all the way to Lyremouth."

"I will if I have to."

"I might be okay if we take it slowly." Jemeryl suggested.

"We don't have the time."

It was an undeniable truth. Jemeryl made no further objections and tried to relax in Tevi's arms, but she knew tears were bubbling under the surface. It was not so much the infirmity - that she could have tolerated, but not to be a sorcerer, to be confined in a world of four basic dimensions was the unbearable thing. Klara's death was the final bitter wound to the heart. Jemeryl closed her eyes and rested her head on Tevi's shoulder, trying to block out her pain with the comfort of Tevi's physical presence.

*****

It was a source of comfort that often felt like the only thing keeping her going in the days that followed. The rough mountain terrain that had past quickly under the horses' hooves was an arduous slog by foot. The effects of the coma faded and Jemeryl was able to travel further each day unassisted, but there was no sign of her paranormal senses returning. Except sometimes, as she drifted off to sleep, she felt the faintest hint of the world beyond in taunting images that blended into dreams.

On the morning of the fifth day after leaving the ruins, they reached the Old West Road. The two of them stood looking at the bare trees and withered vegetation. The climate had grown milder as they dropped in altitude, yet there was no mistaking the wind's icy bite. The sky was pale blue with wisps of cloud but the sunlight carried no warmth. Winter would soon be sweeping over the forests. With extreme good luck, it might hold off for a month. With bad luck, the next day might see them snowbound.

"Uzhenek is east, the Protectorate is west. Which way do you want to go?" Jemeryl's tone left little doubt that she preferred the second option.

"Which is nearest?"

"Denbury is the shorter distance, but..."

"We have to get over the Barrodens." Tevi finished the sentence for her.

"We won't have to go past Graka."

"You've talked me into it."

They set off west.

*****

Once again, they were following the Old West Road on its remorseless advance across the landscape but a change had come. The forest was stark; only withered leaves still clung to the branches. Birdsong was rare and few small animals disturbed the leaf litter. The overnight frost turned puddles to ice. Once, a mist of snow blew across the road but did not settle. To the south, the Barrodens dropped in height, although they were still an unbroken string of snow-capped peaks.

They had been back on the Old West Road for fourteen days, when it finally deviating from its ruler-straight line. The road swung to the south and began to climb into the foothills,. The following night, they camped several miles down a wide valley that had lead them into the heart of the Barrodens.

"Another three days and we'll be in Denbury." Jemeryl's voice was the most confident since awaking in the ruins.

"Good job too. We're nearly out of food."

"It's enough for a couple more meals."

"As long as they're not big ones. It's fortunate we're not expecting company."

Jemeryl stared into the darkness. "I don't suppose it's worth trying to gather something from the forest before we tackle the pass?"

"There isn't much out there that's edible. I know; I've been looking. And I don't think we can risk the time to go hunting."

"We've done well."

"We have." Tevi agreed. "We must have topped twenty-five miles a day."

"From the blisters on my feet, I'd have sworn it was twice that."

"And it will be for nothing if winter closes the pass." Tevi said soberly. "We just have to hope our luck holds for a few more days."

"We're going to make it."

"Is that prophecy or wishful thinking?"

Jemeryl smiled ruefully. "Even if my senses were restored, I probably couldn't answer that question."

They set off for the pass just before dawn the next day. The road climbed steadily, although it kept to the bottom of the valley. Snow-capped peaks rose above the forests of pine trees on either side. Eventually, the valley ended in a steep escarpment carved from a wall of rock. Here, the pass began its ascent in earnest, swinging in a long arc around the almost vertical walls. The weather was bitterly cold, pinching at their faces and numbing their toes.

"And it is going to get colder as we get higher." Tevi predicted,

After four hours of hard climbing, they at last stood on the top of the escarpment. The road ahead ran across rolling moorland, surrounded by mountains. Fields of snow crept down from the heights, encroaching on the plain. Some four or five miles distant, they could see where the road dipped and then rose over another, higher ridge slung between two craggy peaks.

"With any luck that's the top of the pass." Jemeryl said.

"It's more likely just a good viewpoint to see the next part of the climb."

Tevi smiled as she spoke and then turned around to look back over the valley they had left. It was a breathtaking panorama. The land panned out below. Jagged mountains stretched off on either side above wooded slopes. The dazzling white of the snow contrasted with the green of the pines in almost heartbreaking beauty; however, what caught Tevi's attention were the heavy black clouds piling up on the horizon.

"How long do you think we have?" Jemeryl asked quietly at her shoulder.

"Not long enough. Do you think you're up to out-running a blizzard?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"We could try and find shelter."

"Unless you can see something I'm missing, there doesn't seem to be much on offer."

"Maybe if we can get over the ridge ahead there might be... something?" Tevi finished uncertainly.

"Such as?"

"Ideally, a comfy inn with roaring fires and well-stocked kitchen - but I'd settle for a cave."

By the time they were two-thirds of the way across the moor, storm clouds were looming over their heads, blocking out the sun and swallowing the mountains. The wind at their backs picked up and buffeted them with heavy gusts. The first of the snow rippled across the ground, blown in rolling, snake-like bands that broke about their knees. A few larger flakes whipped passed their faces, and then, as suddenly as if someone had opened a door, the snow became a hurtling onslaught of white carried vertically on a screaming wind.

Jemeryl's breath was laboured. She staggered under the repeated blasts and eventually slipped to her knees. For the first time in days, Tevi picked her up and carried her, but it would not be long before even Tevi's superhuman strength would be overwhelmed. The road bottomed out of a dip and began to climb. The blizzard gained in force. The raging whiteness blotted out everything. The howling wind seemed to tear the air from Tevi's lungs and her feet sunk past her ankles into banks of snow.

The road climbed higher. As an act of will, Tevi fought to keep moving forward, scarcely able to see the ground beneath her feet. Abruptly, a large dark shape materialised out of the white chaos ahead. In the space of a dozen footsteps, the shadow became solid, acquiring contrast and form, and Tevi found herself standing outside a high wooded stockade. She set Jemeryl on her feet and the two of them edged along the wall until they reached a large gateway, guarded by arrow-slits on either side.

Tevi hammered on the door with the pommel of her sword.

"There's no point." Jemeryl screamed in her ear. "They won't hear us over the wind."

A smaller doorway was set into the larger main gate. Tevi took a few steps back, and then threw all her strength into a running kick. The wood cracked and whole gateway rattled but no shouts came from inside. A second, third and fourth kick followed, by which time the door was hanging off its hinges. Tevi delivered a final blow with her shoulder and the door flew in.

The two women stepped over the splintered wood into an enclosed courtyard. Low timber halls lined all sides. It was far more sheltered than the open hillside, yet the wind still whipped around the corners of the yard and sent streamers of snow flowing over the rooftops. Some of the buildings were clearly stables and sheds. What looked to be the domestic quarters were in a hall to their left. Tevi led the way forward and lifted the latch; to her relief it was unbolted. Billowing snow chased them inside. It cut short when Tevi shut the door. Suddenly, it was very quiet to be out of the wind.

They were in a long room with a cold stone fireplace in the centre of one wall and the opposite wall lined with bunks. An ancient table and two benches stood to one side. The walls were of split logs and the floor of beaten earth. It had clearly been deserted for days but, in the circumstances, it was pure luxury.

"Do you know what this is?" Jemeryl asked

"I'd guess it's a mercenary patrol post." Tevi said thoughtfully. "It probably doubles as a shelter for herdsmen in summer and maybe an inn for travellers. Some of my colleagues in Hortz had served in places like this."

"Where is everyone?"

"In weather like this, there are no animals on the high pastures, no wagon trains, and only very stupid bandits."

"It's run by the mercenaries?"

"If the local guild council is prepared to pay us." Tevi said dryly.

"So it must mean we're at the top of the pass and back in the Protectorate."

Tevi smiled ironically. "Welcome home."

During a lull in the storm, Tevi checked the other buildings. She found a good supply of firewood, neatly cut and stacked, clean straw for bedding, and oil lanterns, but little else. While the blizzard swept over the mountains, the two women sat beside the blazing hearth, listening to the roaring of the wind. The immediate threat was over; they would not freeze to death, but Tevi wondered how long they would be pinned down by the weather - their supply of food would not see out another day.

*****

The blizzard abated in late afternoon of the following day. The snow ceased falling and the wind dropped, although fitful gusts still made the roof of the hall creak. Tevi went to look out over the winter landscape. The patrol post was situated in a fold in the mountain, a few hundred yards below the low part of the saddle-ridge. Dark clouds hung overhead, bearing down oppressively. A thick coat of snow covered the moor. Its brilliance was softened to grey in the hollows.

The road was hidden under the drifting snow, but it was not hard to guess its line. Beyond the shelter of the stockade, the wind snapped at Tevi with renewed force, cold and biting. The snow was knee deep and the frozen crust broke as she trod on it. Bracken caught at her feet when she strayed from the path. Several times, she fell into windblown drifts reaching almost to her waist.

It took twenty minutes to reach the crest of the pass. The wind ripped over the ridge in unrestrained savagery. It roared in Tevi's ears and flung volleys of ice particles that stung her eyes as she tried to survey the countryside below. Through the shield of her fingers, Tevi saw broken hills rolling away in ever-decreasing waves, scored with valleys. On distant lowlands, she could detect signs of farms and cultivated land.

Jemeryl was waiting by the fire when Tevi returned, stirring a pan. The contents consisted mainly of water. She looked up as Tevi entered. "I'm afraid this is the last of the food. Did you find out anything promising?"

"You were right. We're at the top of the pass." Tevi confirmed.

"Good."

"I think I could see farms. They're at least a day away and it's starting to get dark now, but if it's clear tomorrow, we have to set out. We can't survive long in this weather without food."

"The snow will be back before sunrise." Jemeryl said with confidence. She continued stirring the food but then stopped suddenly and stared wide-eyed at the pan.

"Are you all right?" Tevi asked in concern.

"I'm not guessing."

"What?"

"I can see it. I can feel the storm. I'm starting to..." Jemeryl broke off. Her hands were shaking as she held them in front of her face but then, faintly between her fingers, a blue ball of light shimmered, stuttered and failed - but it was enough. While Tevi held her, Jemeryl sobbed with relief.

"Will you recover completely?" Tevi asked.

"I don't know, but I'm starting to heal. There's a major ordinance of the Coven at Denbury. Perhaps someone there can help."

Hissing from the fire warned them that the contents of the pan were threatening to boil over, reclaiming their attention. Once the food was safely in bowls, they ate the meagre supper and talked of plans while it grew dark outside, and then went to bed, still hungry.

*****

Jemeryl was awoken from a deep sleep by a draft of freezing air. Once her eyes adjusted to the dark, she saw Tevi standing by the partly open door, sword in hand.

"What is it?"

"There's something moving outside." Tevi whispered in reply.

In an instant, Jemeryl joined her at the doorway. On the far side of the courtyard a dark animal shape appeared between two buildings. It was little more than a black shadow on the white snow; as tall as Tevi's waist, lean and powerful. It paused for a moment, one paw raised, sniffing the air.

"Wolves. They've got in through the broken door." Tevi said.

Jemeryl held out a hand. Her face contorted in the effort as she probed with her damaged senses. "They're an ordinary pack. I'm sure of it. Not werewolves." she said at last.

"They're probably on the scent of the animals that were kept here."

"Shut and bar the door. We'll be safe."

Tevi had other ideas. "You stay here. Keep the door closed. I won't be long."

Before Jemeryl could respond, Tevi had slipped into the darkness and pulled the door shut behind her.

Jemeryl opened it again immediately and called, "Tevi. Come back."

"Get inside. I know what I'm doing." Tevi's voice hissed from a dark shadow, a few feet away.

Three more wolves appeared at the broken doorway to the stockade and padded noiselessly into the open. Jemeryl stepped back but refused to completely close the door. Through the finger-wide gap, she watched the pack circle the courtyard.

The silence inflamed Jemeryl's nerves until suddenly the quiet was broken by a frantic burst of snarling mixed with Tevi's shouts and then a high-pitched whine. As abruptly as it had started, the noise stopped. Unable to stay back, Jemeryl tore open the door and stepped out, in time to see the last of the wolves skidding in the snow in its panic to flee the fort. From the other direction, Tevi was returning, dragging a limp form that left a dark trail in the snow.

By the light of a lantern, the wolf seemed smaller and far less intimidating as it lay dead beside the hearth. It was no consolation to Jemeryl, furious at the scare she had received.

"That was stupid. There was no need to take risks." she shouted.

"I was quite safe. I told you I knew what I was doing." Tevi replied, unmoved.

"Why did you do it?"

"I had good reasons."

"Such as?"

"Roast wolf, fried wolf, wolf stew."

The answer stopped Jemeryl in her tracks. It was several seconds before she said, stunned, "We can't eat it."

"Are your objections moral or culinary? Because, with the way my stomach feels, you're going to have quite a job talking me out of it." Tevi grinned, and pulled a long knife from her pack. "One thing about a good barbarian upbringing - it helps you cope with life's little emergencies."

*****

The blizzard returned before dawn the next day; an invasion of white that engulfed the mountains in bludgeoning chaos. On the fifth night of the storm, Tevi and Jemeryl lay snuggled in bed, listening to the howling of the wind. A blazing fire lit the room with a red glow. Tevi felt safe, warm and comfy.

Jemeryl lay on her back, staring at the ceiling. "We should leave tomorrow." she announced unexpectedly.

Tevi raised herself on an elbow. "Are you sure?"

"I... yes." Jemeryl looked as if she had surprised herself. "It will be our best chance. The weather will stay clear for a few days."

"You're recovering, aren't you?" Tevi said after a pause.

"Slowly. Hopefully, once I get to Denbury I can be cured completely, so I'll..." Jemeryl broke off. "Does that bother..."

"What?" Tevi frowned in confusion.

"Would you prefer that I stay ungifted?" Jemeryl's voice was very quiet.

"No. Of course not. Why should I?"

"It's just... at the moment, we're both the same. And I wondered if that might be easier for you."

Tevi's eyes fixed on the fire, while she tried to organise her thoughts. "I admit, sometimes... how other people react to you gets to me... and then how they react to me for being with you... It's not you being a sorcerer that's the problem - it's the rest of the world." Her eyes returned to meet Jemeryl's. "But, at the moment, we're not the same, because I'm content with being ungifted and you're not, and never could be. If I put my mind to it, I can ignore the rest of the world, but I could never ignore the fact that you're unhappy." Tevi dipped her head and kissed Jemeryl, slowly and very softly. At last, she pulled back again. "I love you."

"I love you too."

There was still uncertainty in Jemeryl's eyes. Tevi sensed it would be easier rely on actions rather than words to pushed away any doubts - both Jemeryl's and her own. Maybe it wasn't quite so easy to ignore the rest of the world as she had implied. Which meant it was all the more reason to make the most of the times when there was just the two of them together.

Tevi stroked her hand over Jemeryl's shoulder and down her side. Jemeryl's body had become very familiar to her but was still a source of wonder. Starting at Jemeryl's hip, Tevi traced a soft line of small circles along the junction between body and leg. Immediately, Jemeryl's breathing began to quicken and her eyes half-closed. Tevi's smile grew. By now, they knew what each other liked and disliked. It had become very easy to get a response, but no less rewarding.

*****

The next morning, the two women awoke to silence, broken only by the whisper of shifting snow and the occasional creak from the timbers of the roof. Jemeryl packed while Tevi called on all her strength to open the frozen door and dig a passage out. At last, the two of them stood at the entrance to the stockade. The sky was clear blue and only the faintest breeze stirred across the mountains.

Despite the fine weather, it was a slow fight to the top of the pass through deep drifts of snow but, thereafter, the journey was downhill. Pristine fields of white swept between rock precipices in a series of giant steps. It was impossible to guess the line of the road, so they settled for heading in the general direction of 'down'. By midday, they were below the tree line. The temperature was warmer beneath the dark green pines and the snow underfoot was heavier and wetter.

Night was falling when the two women emerged onto an open plateau on the side of the mountain. They paused where the land dropped away steeply at the edge. Farms and hamlets were spread out in the broad valley below, but purple dusk was already swallowing the scene. Lights from fires and lanterns dotted the lowland.

"You're better at judging distance than me - do you think we can make it down tonight?" Jemeryl asked.

"We might. But then we might step off a cliff in the dark and break our necks." Tevi pointed to a small round building that was nearby. "We'd be safer stopping there until morning."

"Is it another of your guard posts?"

Tevi shook her head. "I'd say it was a shepherds' hut."

"I don't see any sheep."

"You won't see any shepherds either. This hillside would be used as summer pasture."

The hut had dry stone walls and a heavy straw thatch. There was a low door and no windows. No one answered their call but a supply of split logs was piled to one side and the door was unlocked. The single room inside held an overpowering smell of sheep and a mildew-covered stuffed straw pallet. The ground was wet where snow had blown in under the loose fitting door. A blackened circle of stones in the centre of the room marked the hearth.

"It'll be better than sleeping outside." Tevi said.

Jemeryl looked as if she might have disputed the statement, but said nothing.

A fire soon warmed the room and dried the pallet, although it did nothing for the smell. Smoke flowed under the rafters before seeping out into the night. The two women sat side by side, watching their supper cooking on skewers. A blanket was draped around their shoulders to ward off the draft from under the door.

Tevi looked at the backpack, where it was propped against the stone wall. In it, she knew, was Lorimal's chalice. The quest was nearly over. She fought the urge to take the chalice out. For the first time in ages, memories of Storenseg came to mind, a sharp longing mixed with a ragbag of other emotions.

"We can probably get to Denbury tomorrow." Jemeryl broke the silence.

"Maybe."

"I guess we won't reach Lyremouth until after the spring thaw."

When Tevi did not reply, Jemeryl turned to look at her. "What are you thinking about?"

"Storenseg."

"You miss it?" Jemeryl asked softly.

"It's hard to explain. This hut... I know it's cold and squalid but it's just like home. It ought to make me want to stay away, but..." Tevi did not finish.

"Do you want to go back?"

"I don't know." Tevi's face showed her confusion.

Jemeryl was silent for a while before launching into awkward, unstructured sentences. "I think I understand how you... want to go home, but... You know I want to go to Tirakhalod. I should have asked you... but, if I clear it with the guild, that you're a bodyguard or something... Though if you don't ..." Jemeryl hesitated. "Would you want to come with me? "

Tevi met Jemeryl's eyes. When it came to it, the decision was really very easy.

*****

The island hove into view above the bow of the small boat. Tevi ducked under the sail and looked at the familiar outline, silhouetted against the pale spring sky. The rush of homesickness surprised her. It was over two years since she had left. Tevi watched the mountains grow and considered all that had happened since then.

She was not the same woman who had been exiled; she had changed far too much. Her hands bore the visible reminder: two swords crossed in red and gold on the back of each. The more recent part of the tattoos were distinguishable by their darker hue, though in time they would fade to match the rest. A smile crept over Tevi's face. The other changes in her life went much deeper, though they left no visible mark.

Tevi looked over her shoulder. In the stern, Jemeryl was trying to calm the juvenile magpie in her lap as it fidgeted and fluffed its plumage. She glanced up.

"I take it these are your islands?"

"Yes. We're approaching Storenseg."

"I'm not surprised you don't have any sorcerers. The whole area is a giant sink. It's as dead as a doornail, magically speaking. I'm going to have trouble hanging on to Klara II if we stay for long." Jemeryl wiggled her fingers experimentally, leaving a faint trail of glowing green sparks. "I can raise a few visual effects. They'll have surprise value, but no real use if things get nasty."

"Shouldn't be any need. Thanks to Lorimal, my people worship sorcerers. A few pretty lights; give them a herbal cure for a hangover, and they'll be talking about you for generations." Tevi returned to the task of steering. "We're not staying and, once my family realise that, they won't cause trouble. We just give them the chalice and go."

"What if people guess that we're lovers?"

"I'm sure my grandmother will work it out in an instant - and she'll be very keen to make sure that the idea doesn't occur to anyone else. One thing my grandmother can do extremely well is manage rumours, as long as we try not to make the job too difficult for her."

"You mean I can't kiss you in the middle of the village square?"

"No." Tevi laughed. "And asking my mother's blessing for our relationship would also be a bad move."

Jemeryl matched Tevi's grin and settled back in the boat. "You know, I'll be sorry to hand the chalice over - after all we went through to get it."

"I'll be pleased to see the end of it." Tevi paused while she tacked the boat into the wind. "You're sure it's safe now?"

"Absolutely. The Guardian herself scrubbed its memory clean. I think she wanted to keep it as a trophy but your guild-master was very insistent that you complete your quest."

"Mercenaries always keep their word - rule number one of the guild. Our livelihoods depend on it." Tevi shrugged diffidently. "I did point out that I hadn't actually sworn to return the chalice, merely not to go back without it, but they told me I was quibbling and we're not supposed to do that either."

The sound of the waves crashing against the cliffs became a roar. In a plume of spray, the small boat rounded the Stormfast Cliffs. The calmer waters of the bay glittered in the sunlight as the boat skimmed over the waves. Straight ahead was the beach, with fishing boats hauled onto the sands. Not far inland, the long halls of Holric were clustered beside the river. Tevi frowned at the village; it seemed so much smaller and shabbier than she remembered.

"Is everything all right?" Jemeryl asked, anxiously.

"I just feel a bit strange, to be back here."

"You could stay if you wanted." Jemeryl spoke softly. "I can go to Bykoda on my own. The guild wouldn't chase you out here, not if you weren't causing trouble. Now that your eyes are okay, you might be able to be accepted here."

"I can't fit in and I don't want to." Tevi turned to meet the worry in Jemeryl's eyes. "While you were in the coma, back in the ruined village, I was forced to consider what life would be like without you - and I'm not interested in it. As long as you want me, I'm staying with you."

"That might be quite some time." Jemeryl's smile made her relief clear. She lent her head back against the stern of the boat. "What do you think they'll make of you, bringing back the chalice and then going again?"

"If my grandmother has anything to do with it, it will become a heroic tale with very little resemblance to the truth."

The keel scraped on sand. Tevi jumped out and hauled the boat further onto the beach. She reached in to grab the bag containing the chalice and then swung it over her shoulder. "Come on, let's get this over with and be off."

With a laugh, Jemeryl joined her on the sand and the pair walked up the beach, towards the small group of armed women assembling on the dunes above them.

Appendix

The Legend of Princess Tevirik

As told by the women of the Western Isles

Once upon a time, there was a daughter born to the royal house of Storenseg. Her birth name was Strikes-like-lightning but, even as a small child, she was so warlike that she would not go out unless she wore her armour and weapons, so the people called her Tevirik, after the goddess of blacksmiths. She grew to be tall and brave and was her mother's pride. All her people looked to the day when she would be Queen and lead the war-band to victory.

Now, as is told elsewhere, Storenseg was the island where Abrak first made the magic potion that gives the warriors their strength. The most precious of her relics was her chalice, but one day, when Tevirik was scarcely grown to womanhood, an evil sorcerer sent an enchanted raven to steal it. The women of Storenseg were dismayed since legend said that without the magic chalice their war-band could not prevail in battle.

Soon, the tale of the theft of the chalice spread among all the Western Isles and the Queen of Rathshorn thought to turn it to her advantage. She sent a challenge, demanding that the women of Storenseg submit to her and renounce their true Queen.

When Tevirik learnt of this insult to her family, she turned white with anger. She went to her grandmother, the Queen, and swore that she would go in search of the chalice and not return without it. At this, the hearts of the people sank, for without Tevirik to fight for them there seemed no hope for their war-band but Tevirik would not go back on her oath. The whole island turned out to see Tevirik depart. There were tears in the eyes of many, for none expected to see her again.

Tevirik sailed east for many days, until she reached land. She left her boat on the beach and went from place to place, searching for news of the chalice, but nothing could she find. Then, one night, she was awakened by sound of fighting. Nearby, she saw an old man, cruelly attacked by a band of robbers. Not hesitating, Tevirik drew her sword and set about the gang so that within seconds they were fleeing for their lives.

Once the danger was gone, the old man turned to her with words of thanks. "My gratitude is yours forever. Yet I can see you are a stranger in these lands. Why are you here?" he said.

"I am searching for the sacred chalice of my people, which was stolen by an enchanted raven. Do you know where it might be?" Tevirik replied.

"No." said the old man, "But the sorcerer Brikoda may know, for she is one of the wisest women in the world."

"Where may I find her?"

"She lives in her citadel, far to the north. To reach her, you must cross a sea of grass and that will not be easy."

"I have crossed the true sea of water in the west. Surely, a sea of grass shall prove no great obstacle." Tevirik said.

In the morning, Tevirik awoke and packed her gear and set out for the north. For many days, she walked until she reached a plain of grass that stretched to the horizon. The wind roared over the plain causing the grass to ripple like the waves breaking on the shore. It blew so fiercely that for every three steps Tevirik took forward she was blown back one, but at last she arrived at a mighty citadel. Inside this citadel, the sorcerer Brikoda sat on a silver throne.

Tevirik stood before her and said. "I am searching for the sacred chalice of my people, which has been stolen by an enchanted raven. Do you know where it might be?"

Brikoda sat for a while and thought, and then she said. "Several months ago I saw the bird fly out to the sea, and I sensed the magic of the one who sent it, but who that was, I cannot say. Perhaps, my sister, Kradira, may know, for she is wiser than I."

"Where may I find her?" Tevirik said.

"She lives in her palace, far to the south. To reach her, you must cross a sea of sand and that will not be easy."

"I have crossed the true sea of water in the west and a sea of grass in the north. Surely, a sea of sand shall prove no great obstacle."

The sorcerer made her welcome and Tevirik rested from her ordeal of crossing the grasslands and prepared for the journey ahead. After three days, she packed her gear and headed into the distant south.

She walked for many days until the land became hot and dry, and only a desert of barren sand stretched out before her. The wind whipped at the sand, building it high like waves on the open sea. The sun was like noon on the hottest summer's day, but Tevirik was not dismayed. She filled her goatskin bags with water and then set off across the desert.

The sand was so hot it burnt the soles of her feet. After four days, her water bags were empty and thirst tormented her, but she steadfastly walked ever southwards. At last, she arrived at a great palace. Inside this palace, the sorcerer Kradira sat on a golden throne.

Tevirik stood before her and said. "I am searching for the sacred chalice of my people, which has been stolen by an enchanted raven. Do you know where it might be?"

Kradira sat for a while and thought, and then she said. "Several months ago, I saw the bird return from the sea, and sensed the magic of the one who sent it, but who that was, I cannot say. Perhaps my sister, Jemera, may know, for she is the wisest of us all."

"Where may I find her?" Tevirik said.

"She lives in her castle, far to the east. To reach her, you must cross a sea of snow and that will not be easy."

"I have crossed the true sea of water in the west, a sea of grass in the north and a sea of sand in the south. Surely, a sea of snow shall prove no great obstacle."

The sorcerer made her welcome and Tevirik rested from her ordeal of crossing the desert and prepared for the journey ahead. After three days, she packed her gear and headed into the distant east.

For many days, she travelled, until a line of mountains appeared before her. Her road lead ever upward and an icy wind begun to blow. Soon, it became a torrent of snow and all the ground was lost in the billowing whiteness. The wind flung the snow against her, like a storm at sea when the tempest blots out the world and there is neither up nor down. Yet, Tevirik was not deterred. She fought her way forward though the blizzard, though the cold was so bitter that her hair froze to her head.

At last, she saw a castle, perched atop a rocky peak. "Surely, here I will learn how I may achieve my quest." she told herself.

It was a hard climb to the gates of the castle but Tevirik eventually reached her goal. As she was about to enter, she heard a furious roaring and saw a hideous monster charging towards her. Its claws were so sharp they dug holes in the rock and its teeth were as long as an arm. With scarcely time to think, Tevirik drew her sword and, with a single mighty stoke, cut off the monster's head.

Tevirik cleaned the blood from her sword on the monster's hide. When she stood up there was a woman standing before her. In an instant, Tevirik's eyes were blinded, so that she could not tell whether it was night or day.

"Who are you? And what have you done to me?" Tevirik cried out.

"I am the sorcerer Jemera. You have killed my basilisk so I have taken your sight in payment." the sorcerer said.

"I am sorry for the loss of your basilisk, but I only defended myself."

"Be that as it may, it was my beast and I must take payment for its death."

"If you will help me with my quest, I will gladly make what recompense I can." Tevirik said.

"Will you swear to meet whatever terms I say?" the sorcerer said.

"My people are not rich in gold or silver but, if it is within my power, I will do so." Tevirik said.

"Then let us go inside and talk further."

As the sorcerer spoke these words the blindness was lifted from Tevirik and she could see again. The two of them went into the castle and Jemera sat on a stone throne and Tevirik stood before her and said, "I am searching for the sacred chalice of my people, which has been stolen by and enchanted raven. Do you know where it might be?"

Jemera sat for a while and thought, and then she said. "Several months ago, I saw the bird fly out to sea and return from the sea. I sensed the magic of the one who sent it, and I know her name well. It was the evil sorcerer Levanno, an enemy of mine."

"Where does she live, and how do I find her?" Tevirik said.

"She lives under the mountains at the bottom of the earth. Finding her will not help you, for she will turn you to stone, as soon as she sees you."

"Nevertheless, I have sworn to recover the chalice and I will not turn aside from my quest."

"Then I will come with you. Yet there is still the question of payment for my basilisk." Jemera said.

"What are your terms?"

"You must swear that if I help retrieve your chalice and return it to your people, then you will follow me and serve me for five years."

"That I will gladly do." said Tevirik.

For three days, they rested in the castle, and then they packed their gear and set out. They walked all day and that night they made camp. As they prepared for sleep, Jemera said. "The entrance to Levanno's realm is not far from here and this area is guarded by many deadly traps. It would be wise if we took turns at keeping watch."

"I will take the first watch and wake you at midnight." replied Tevirik.

For the first half of the night, she kept a good watch, and it was as well that she did so, for an hour before midnight she heard howling and a pack of wolves appeared. Tevirik drew her sword and set about them, so that soon a dozen wolves lay dead and the rest were fleeing to save their lives. At midnight she woke the sorcerer and took her turn to sleep.

Jemera then keep a good watch, and it was as well that she did so, for an hour before dawn she heard the rattling of bones, and saw a horde of ghouls, with rotten flesh hanging from their skeletons. Jemera made a spell, so that a ball of fire flew towards the ghouls and they were burned to ash.

With daylight, Jemera awoke Tevirik, and the two women continued on their way, until they reached the entrance to a large cave. Then Jemera spoke. "Now listen to what I will say. Levanno is a mighty sorcerer, and any warrior, no matter how brave or strong, can have no hope against her. I have a plan so that this may work to our advantage. When Levanno sees us, she will know I am a sorcerer and will see me as a threat. But you she will not fear, and so her first attack will be directed at me. I will give you an enchanted magpie. Keep it hidden under your cloak and, when the two of us are locked in battle, release it. Around Levanno's neck is an iron amulet that holds the root of her power. The magpie will fly to Levanno and take the amulet. Without it Levanno will be powerless."

Tevirik agreed with the plan and so the two women entered the cave. Once inside, they were surrounded by a crowd of tiny people. They were so small they barely reached to Tevirik's waist. Finding herself surrounded, she would have drawn her sword but Jemera restrained her, and said, "These are good folk who have been enslaved by Levanno. To gain their freedom, they will help us and lead us to where she is."

They followed the small folk deep into the caves and at last reached a huge cavern. Standing in the middle was Levanno. The two sorcerers glared at each other, and then Jemera said. "Levanno, many times have you tried to kill me, now will I have my revenge."

"Fool. All you will get is your death, for I am mightier than you." Levanno replied.

And so they began to fight with balls of fire and lightning bolts and magic arrows of ice. The sound was so terrible that the small folk fled from the cavern, but Tevirik knew no fear. She got as close to Levanno as she could, without being burned or frozen by the magical weapons that the two sorcerers hurled at each other. Then, she opened her cloak and the magpie flew out. The bird circled the cavern once and then dived down and plucked the amulet from Levanno's neck. The evil sorcerer screamed as she felt her power ebb. Jemera hurled one last fireball, greater than any she had yet cast, and cracked open the roof above Levanno's head. The rocks crashed down and ended Levanno's wicked life.

Tevirik and Jemera then searched the cavern and found the chalice, stored with piles of gold, silver and precious gems. "Do you want to take your share of the spoils?" Jemera asked.

"No, all I want is the chalice." Tevirik replied.

"That is wise." said Jemera. "For the gold, silver and gems are cursed and if you took as much as the smallest coin, you would not live another day."

The two women left the cave and travelled west for many days until they reached the seashore where they found Tevirik's boat and sailed back to Storenseg.

Great was the rejoicing at Tevirik's return with the chalice, but her mother's tears of joy soon turned to tears of sorrow when she learned her daughter was oath-bound to leave again and serve the sorcerer for five years.

For many days, there was feasting on Storenseg, but the time for Tevirik to leave grew close. On the last night, Tevirik's younger sister, who was called Laughs-at-danger, came to speak with her.

"You have achieved great things for the island. It is now my turn. May I not go in your place and serve this sorcerer?" Tevirik's sister said.

Tevirik sighed and replied, "Alas that may not be. It was my oath and I must discharge it. Yet, it is heavy in my heart that this sorcerer will lead me to my death. In five years I may return, otherwise wait for three more years. If I have not returned by then, you will know that I no longer walk among the living. In that case, I entrust to you the care of our mother and our people. Guard them wisely and well."

Laughs-at-danger wept as she heard these words and swore she would do as her sister asked. The next day, the island gathered on the shore and watched as the boat with Tevirik and the sorcerer Jemera sailed away.

Everyone waited for the return of Tevirik but, after three years, her mother could bear no more and died of a broken heart, wishing only for the return of her brave and noble daughter. The next winter, the old Queen also died and there was no one to rule the island, so the matriarchs of the families came to Laughs-at-danger and said.

"Your mother and grandmother are dead and Tevirik is not here, therefore will you become our Queen?"

"No." said Laughs-at-danger, "For my sister is due to return soon. I will not usurp her place. However, if you wish, I will rule as regent."

For four years, Laughs-at-danger was regent of Storenseg. Each morning, she walked onto the cliffs and looked out to sea, hoping for sight of her sister's boat, yet her vigil was in vain.

At last, the matriarchs came to her again and said, "The time for your sister's return has passed, beyond all hope that she will come home. The uncertainly of a regency harms the interests of Storenseg. Therefore, we beg you to become our Queen."

Laughs-at-danger bowed her head and wept but she could no longer hope to see her brave sister again this side of death. So, she built a pyre on the beach and held the funeral feast for Tevirik. Then, she took the Queen's throne and ruled Storenseg for many years, wisely and well, and her daughter and granddaughter after her. For Princess Tevirik never returned to the island of her birth, nor did any word come back of what fate befell her.

THE END

Once again, I would like to offer thanks to my beta readers, Pam and Cybernana, for putting up with, among other things, my random use of commas and hyphens, and for sifting a few holes out of the plot.

I would also like to thank any readers who have stuck with the story this long. All and any comments are welcome - including flames, since I have a very warped sense of humour.

Finally, I would like to thank Lizzy for, many years ago, refusing to let me talk her through this plot and insisting that she would only pay attention to the story when I had put it down on paper. Without her intransigence I would never have written anything.