Spell of the Witch World
A Witch World novel by Andre Norton
Version 1.0

1

The Coming of the Far Strangers

THE STORM had been high, battering the
cliffs, breaking over the half reef which gave protection
for anchoring the fishing boats. But the men of Wark had
had warning (for none are so weather-wise as those
who live by wind and wave and the changeful sea-luck).
So no boats were lost, nor men eithersave only that
the smaller yawl of Omund Was driven up on the beach
so he must inspect it carefully.

Omund was not the only one upon the wave-pounded
sands that morning, for sea storms, if they do not take
wantonly from what little stores of goods a man may
garner, sometimes give. Thus all of Wark who could
keep to their feet and had keen eyes were down on
the strand seeing what bounty might have been de-
posited at their very doorsteps.

Sometimes amber was found so, and that was a pre-
cious find. Once Deryk had come across two gold coins,
very old, with signs on them Aufrica, the Wise Woman,
said were of the Old Ones. So Deryk took them to
the smithy straightaway and had them melted into a
lump, thus removing any magic curse from good metal.

Always there was wood, and the kelp from which
women could make dyes for winter wear, and shells,
which the children treasured. Sometimes the wreck of
ships, such as never anchored in the reef-guarded small-
bay of Wark, nor which most of the people had ever
seen the like ofnor would unless they traveled to
Jurby port.

This time came the strangers. At first those on the
beach thought the boat drifting in deep water was
wreckage, and then there was a flutter of movement
aboard. Yet there were no oars. When those on shore
called and waved (though their voices might well be
lost in the crying of the sea birds) there came no an-
swer.

At last Kaleb of the Forge stripped and swam out,
a rope about his middle. Then he waved vigorously to
let them know there was life aboard and made fast the
rope, so the men, pulling together, could bring in the
boat.

In it lay two, though one leaned against the side, her
salt-tangled hair about her wan face, her hands moving
weakly as she tried to brush it from her eyes. The man
lay quiet, a great wound upon one temple as if he had
been felled in battle, so that they first thought him
dead. But Aufrica, bustling forward, as became her call-
ing of healer, pulled aside his sodden tunic and listened
for the heartbeat, declaring that the sea, or ill fortune,
had not taken him yet. Thus with the woman, who
seemed in a daze, unhearing their questions, only brush-
ing feebly at her hair and staring wide-eyed, he was
taken to Aufrica's house.

So the strangers came on the storm edge to Wark.
And thereafter they stayed, though they remained
strangers. For the wound which had felled the man had
in a manner changed him. At first he was like a little
child and the woman fed and cared for him as if in-
deed he Was one she had before carried at her breast

Their clothing, sea-stained and stiff with salt, was not
that of villagers, nor was the woman like any they knew.
At first, Aufrica reported, she had not their tongue, but
she learned it speedily. Then Aufrica, who had always
been open, spoke less and less of those she sheltered.
And when Gudytha, the headman's wife, and others
asked questions, she was evasive, as if she harbored
some secret which both awed and excited her.

The women of Wark spoke long and often to their
goodmen, and at length Omund came to the house of
Aufrica as Headman to ask the name and purpose of the

strangers that he might send word to the Lord Gail-
lard in whose territory Wark lay. For this was in the
Year of the Salamander, before the great war of the
invaders, and High Hallack was at peace, with law with-
in its borders, especially along the coast where the set-
tlements dated from the early days.

The stranger man sat in the sun, his healed wound
leaving a scar across his forehead. Except for that he
was comely, dark of hair, with thin, well-cut features
which were not those of the Dalesmen. He was slender
of body, though tall, and Omund noted that his hands,
which lay slackly on his knees, were not calloused as
his own from oar and net, but rather those of a man
who had not labored thus for a living.

He smiled at Omund with the open frankness of a
child and there was that about him which made Omund
smile back as he would at his own young son. And in
that moment he thought that for all the tittle-tattle of
the village wives and the talk over the wine-horns of
the men, there was no harm in this poor stranger and
he had come on a useless errand.

At that moment there was the opening of the door
and he looked away from the smiling man to face the
woman who had come out of the sea in his company.
Straightaway something stirred deep in Omund's mind,
though he was a simple man who found the events of
each day enough to think on.

She was nigh as tall as he and, like the man, slender
and dark of hair. Her face was thin to gauntness and
there was certainly no trace of beauty, as Omund reck-
oned it, in her. But there was something else

He had been to the great hall in Vestdale to be con-
firmed in his headship for Wark. There he had seen
the Lord of the Dale and his Lady sitting in state, all
power and authority. Yet when he faced the stranger
woman, wearing a kirtle made from one of Aufrica's
and badly fitting, too, with no gems on her fingers or
at her throat, her hair braided but with no golden bells
to dance lightly at the ends of those braids, he felt
more awe than he had in the full splendor of Vestdale.
It was her eyes, he afterward decidednor could he

have told the color of them, save that they were dark
and seeming too large for the thinness of her face. Still
in them

Without thinking Omund took the seaman's knitted
cap from his head and raised his hand palm out as he
would to the Lady of Vestdale herself.

"Welcome in peace." Her voice was low, yet had in
it a kind of controlled power, as if she could shout down
the mountains behind them if she wished. She stood
aside for him to enter.

Aufrica sat on a low stool by the fire. But she did
not rise nor bid him welcome, leaving all to the stranger
as if this was not now her own house, but rather she
was visitor within its Walls.

On the table was the hosting-horn filled with the
good wine of hospitality. Beside it a platter of welcome
cakes. And the strange woman held out her hand as was
the custom, her fingers light and cool on his sunburned
wrist. So she brought him to the table, taking the stool
opposite from him across the board.

"My lord and I have much to thank you for, you and
your people of Wark, Headman Omund," she said as
he sipped the wine, suddenly grateful for such a familiar
thing when all else seemed to take on strangeness. "You
have given us both second life, which is a great gift
indeed. And for which we are in your debt. Nowyou
wish some accounting of usas is proper."

He had no chance to ask the questions he had formed
in his mind; she was in command here even as a Dale
lord Would be. Nor did he resent that; it seemed right
and proper.

"We come from overseas," she continued. "But there
is ill doing there, the hounds of war cry. There came
a time when we must choose between death and flight.
And since no man, nor woman either, chooses death un-
less hope is fled, we took ship for a new land. There
are the Sulcarmen who dwell in ports of their own along
our coast, and through them we learned of this land.
It was on a ship of theirs we took passage.

"But" For the first time she hesitated, looked to
her own long-fingered hands where they rested on the

tabletop. "There was a storm," she continued as one
who must put aside certain thoughts, "and the ship
was sore beset. My lord was struck down by a falling
mast as he was to come into the boat. By a great mercy"
here her fingers moved as if she made some sign, and
Omund saw Aufrica stir, heard her draw a deep breath,
"he fell to me. But there were no others reached us
and we drifted until you found us.

"I speak frankly now with you, Headman. What gear
we had was lost with the ship. We have naught now,
nor any kin here. My lord mends, he learns from day
to day as a child learns from birth, yet faster. Perhaps
he will never regain all the storm took from him, but
he shall be able to play a man's part in the world. As
for meask of your Wise WomanI have certain gifts
which match hers, and those are at your service."

"Butwould it not be better that you go to Vest-
dale-?"

She shook her head at Omund's suggestion.

"The sea brought us here, there was doubtless a pur-
pose." Once more she signed upon the table and
Omund's awe grew, for he knew now this was one like
Aufrica, but greater, so it was well Aufrica did her
handmaid's service. "We remain here."

Omund made no report to the Lord at Vestdale, and,
since they had delivered the year's tax at Jurby, the
Lord's men had no reason to visit Wark. At first the
women were inclined to keep apart. But when the
stranger tended Yelena in such a birth that all swore the
babe would not come live from her body, yet it did
and lived, and Yelena also (after the stranger had drawn
certain runes on her belly and given her to drink of
herbs) there was no more talk. Yet neither did the
goodwives treat her with such friendly wise as they
did Aufrica, for she was not of their blood nor kind,
and they called her always Lady Almondia, just as they
spoke with deference to her man Truan.

As she said, he mended, and when he was fully well
went out with the fishers. Also he devised a new way
of rigging nets which added to their catch. He, too,
went to the smithy and there he worked with a lump

of metal he brought out of the hills until he had a
sword. This he practiced with as if against future need.

Often together the Lady and Truan went to the hills
in directions those of Wark never took. Oh, men had
half-wild sheep there which they kept for the shear-
ing. And there were deer, and other game to provide a
tasty change from fish. But there were also things of
the Old Ones.

For when the Dalesmen came up from the south
into this land it was not a barren world. Though the
Old Ones were few, for many of them had withdrawn,
no man knew where. Those who remained had little
traffic with the newcomers, keeping ever to the high
places, the wastelands, so that one saw them only by
chance.

Strange indeed were the Old Ones and not all of
one kind as the men of High Hallack. Some seemed
monstrous. Yet in the main they did not threaten man,
only continued to withdraw further.

However, they left behind them many places where-
in they had once built their own strongholds, places
of power. And these, though well built, men shunned.
For there was about them a feeling that it was well
advised not to disturb their ancient silences, that if one
called too loudly or too arrogantly, one might be an-
swered by that better not to face.

There were places also where remnants of powers
or influences still clung. Into these one could venture
and deal with suchif one was foolhardy and reckless.
If you gained, the saying went, your heart's desire from
such dealing, yet in the end the sum was dark and grim
and you were the worse instead of the better for it.

One such place stood in the hills above Wark and
the hunters, the herders kept afar from it. Nor did the
animals they trailed or tended ever stray in that direc-
tion. Yet it was not noted for evil as some places were,
but rather for a feeling of peace, so that those encroach-
ing upon it by chance were oddly shamed, as if they
disturbed the rest of something which should not be
so troubled.

There were low walls, no higher than a man's shoul-

der, and they enclosed a space, not square, nor rec-
tangular, but a five-pointed star. In its centermost core
was a star-shaped stone set as an altar.

Within the points of the star sand was spread, and
those stretches of sand were different in hue. One was
red, one blue, one silver, one green, and the last as
gold as the dust of that metal. No wind ever seemed
to blow within the walls, and the dust was always
smoothly spread, as if it had not been disturbed since
first it was shifted there.

Outside the star-point walls there was the remains of
a garden which was a tangle of herbs. It was there that
Aufrica went three or four times a summer to harvest
those simples she used in her cures. After the coming
of the strangers both went with her first, and then alone.
But none spied to see what they did there.

It was from such a trip that Truan brought back the
lump of metal he wrought into a sword. Later he brought
back a second mass and fashioned a shirt of mail, so
cunning his work that Kaleb and fishermen alike would
watch, marvel at how deftly he drew out metal into
threads or wire, formed them into interlocking rings.
As he worked he always sang, though the words were
not in their language, and he appeared to be in a dream
from which he could not be easily roused.

While he labored the Lady Almondia sometimes came
to watch, her long hands clasped one over the other
tightly as if she willed herself to some hard action. Her
eyes were sad, and she would leave with drooping head,
as if she watched some fateful thing which had in it
the seeds of abiding ill. Yet never did she speak, nor
strive to halt his labors.

There came a night in the first of autumn when she
arose before the moon was to be seen. She touched
the shoulder of Aufrica who lay in her own bed place.
While Truan slept they went forth from the house and
took the trail up and up. The moon gave light as they
reached the top, to show them the way as clear as if
they carried lanterns.

So they went, the Lady Almondia first, and Aufrica
after, and each carried a bundle in the crook of her arm,

and in her free hand a wand of ash peeled white and
silvered by moonlight.

They passed through the old garden and the Lady
climbed the wall, her feet setting prints in the smooth
sand which was silver. Aufrica, following, took care to
step in the tracks the Lady left

Together they came to the star altar. Opening her
bundle Aufrica took out candles, finely fashioned of
beeswax and scented with dried herbs. She set one of
these on each point of the star. While the Lady un-
rolled the packet she carried and brought out a cup.
It was roughly made of wood, as if it had been shaped
by hands not accustomed to such a task. Which was
the truth, for she herself had labored in secret to hol-
low it.

This she placed in the center of the star. Into it she
shifted a little of the sand taken from each point, put-
ting in a double handful of the silver. So the rude cup
was half full.

She nodded then to Aufrica, for they had done all
in silence, not breaking the brooding quiet. The Wise
Woman threw around the cup full handfuls of a white
powder, and when that was done the Lady Almondia
spoke.

Thus calling upon a Name and a Power. And she
was answered. Out of the night struck a bolt of white
fire to ignite the powder. And that blaze flared so bril-
liantly Aufrica cried out, covering her eyes. However,
the Lady Almondia stood steady, and now she chanted.
As she chanted that blaze continued, though there was
naught for it to feed upon. Over and over again she
repeated certain words. At last she flung high both
arms, and when she lowered them slowly to her sides
again, the blaze died.

But where there had been a cup of rough wood,
there was now a goblet shining, as if fine silver. The
Lady took this and covered it quickly, holding it to
her as if it were some treasure she valued with her life.

The candles had burned away, but they left no drip-
ping of wax where they had stood; the stone was bare.
The women turned and went. Aufrica glanced back as

they climbed the wall. She was in time to see a small
ruffling of the sand as if it moved under some invisible,
unfelt wind, to wipe out the footprints they had left.

"It is done, and well done," the Lady spoke with a
wearied voice. "There remains now only the end"

"A lusty end" Aufrica ventured.

"There will be two."

"But-"

"Yes, a double wish carries its own price. My lord
shall have his son, who, as the stars have written will
company him. Yet, there shall be another to guard."

"The price, Lady?"

"You know well the price, my good friend, my moon
sister."

Aufrica shook her head. "No"

"Yes, and yes! We have both cast the seeing runes.
The time comes when one must go, the other be left.
If the day of going comes a little soonerfor a good
purposewhat matters that? My lord will have those
to watch after him. Look not so, moon sister. You and
I know that such partings are but doors opening, not
closingthough the dull eyes of this world see very
little. Rejoicing, not sorrow shall be our portion!"

Though she had always been so sober of mien and
quiet, it did seem that the Lady Almondia thereupon
put on lightsome airs she had not shown before. And
there was a kind of beauty about her as she bore the
cup back to the house.

There she filled it with a special wine of Aufrica's
best. With it rim-full in her hand she went to the couch
of her lord and laid her hand upon his forehead. He
awoke easily and she laughed and spoke to him in her
own tongue. Then he laughed also and drank of the
cup halfway. She finished the rest and went to his
eager arms and they lay together after the way of man
and wife and were fulfilled while the moon sank and
the first light of dawn grayed the sky.

Not long after it was seen that the Lady was bear-
ing, and now the women of the village felt less in awe
of her and they would speak freely, telling of this or
that which was of aid to women in her condition. Al-

ways she thanked them softly, with good will, and they
brought her small gifts, a length of fine wool for a
wrapping band, things to eat which were proper for
a breeding woman. She went no more to the hills but
worked about the house, or sometimes sat silent, her
eyes fixed upon the wall as if she saw there what oth-
ers could not.

But Truan became more than ever a part of the vil-
lage. He went with Omund to Jurby for the year's tax
and trading venture, and when they returned Omund
was high pleased, saying that the Lord had made an
excellent bargain with the Sulcarmen so they reckoned
more from this venture than for many years previous.

Winter came and people stirred not far from their
homes, except at Yule eve when they had the Year's
End Feast, the women tossing ivy, the men holly onto
the fires to bring luck for the Year of the Sea Serpent
now beginning.

Summer came after an early spring and there were
babies in the village, Aufrica overseeing the birthing.
The Lady Almondia no longer went out. And several
of the goodwives began to watch her and shake their
heads in private, for, though her body thickened, yet
her face was very thin, her arms like wands for size,
and she moved as one with a burden greater than she
could bear. Yet she smiled at all and seemed content.
Nor did her lord appear to notice any change in her.

Her time came with moonrise on just such a bril-
liant night as that when she and Aufrica had evoked
whatever was within the star walls. Aufrica brought
forth oils over which she said old spells, and upon
the Lady's belly she wrote runes, and upon the palms
of her hands, and upon her feet, and last of all on her
forehead.

It was a long labor but it ended at last with the cry-
ing wails of not one babe but two. Side by side they
lay on the bed placea boy and a girl. The Lady, too
Weak to raise her head from the pillow, looked to
Aufrica with a message in her eyes, so that the Wise
Woman came quickly to her, in her hand the cup of
silver.

In this she poured a small measure of pure water
and held it so that the Lady could, with infinite labor,
raise her right hand and set fingertip in it. With it she
touched the girl babe who cried no longer, but lay
looking about her with strange, almost knowing eyes,
as if she could understand all that was happening.

"Elys," said the Lady Almondia.

By her stood the Lord Truan, a kind of horrified
awareness in his face as if his season's long gentle ac-
ceptance of life was ended with bitter knowledge. But
he reached also finger to water and touched the boy
babe who was crying lustily and kicking as if he fought.
And he said:

"Elyn."

Thus were they named, and they grew well. But
within four days after their coming the Lady Almondia
closed her eyes and did not wake again. So she went
from Wark after her own fashion and when she was
gone they discovered that indeed they were much
the poorer. The Lord Truan let Aufrica and the women
make her seemly, then he wrapped her in a woolen
cloak and carried her in his arms into the hills. Men,
looking upon his face, did not ask him where he went,
or if they could aid him.

On the second day he returned alone. Nor did he
ever mention the Lady again, but became a silent man,
willing to give aid in any matter, but seldom speaking.
He continued to live with Aufrica and he cared for
the children with more attention than the village men
were wont. But no man remarked on that, for he was
no longer one they felt easy withas if some of that
which had always cloaked the Lady was now wrapped
about him in turn.

2

Cup Spell

THAT WAS THE BEGINNING of the tale, before it
was mine. I learned it mostly from Aufrica, a little from
my father, who was Truan, the Far Stranger. For I am
Elys.

There was more that Aufrica told me concerning the
Lady Almondia. Neither she nor my father were of
High Hallack nor of the Dales blood. They came from
Estcarp, though my father said nothing of their life
there. And what my mother had told Aufrica was lit-
tle.

Aufrica, being a Wise Woman, had the lore of herbs,
knew charms, could make amulets, ease pain, bring chil-
dren, had the powers of the woods and the hills. Though
she never attempted the mastery of high sorcery, nor
called upon the Great Names.

But my mother had been more, though she used
what she knew sparingly. Aufrica believed she had set
aside much of her power when she fled her native
land with my father, the reason for that I was never
to learn. But my mother was witch-born, sorceress
trained, so Aufrica was like a newly schooled child
in her presence. Yet there was some barrier so that
she might not turn much of her past authority to use
in High Hallack.

Only when she wished children had she invoked
what she had once been able to call upon freely. And
then she paid a high priceher own life.

"She cast the rune sticks," Aufrica told me. "On that
table there, she cast them one day when your father
was afar. In those she read her own future was short.
Then she said that she must not leave her lord with-
out what he longed fora son to bear sword and shield
after him.

"It was the nature of her kind that the bearing of
children is not often known. For they put off much
of the woman when they take on the cloak, put out
their hand for the wand of power. They must break
vows and that is a fell thing. But she was willing to
do this for her lord."

"He has Elyn," I nodded. At that moment my broth-
er was indeed with our father, down with the boats
drawn out of winter seas to be worked upon against
summer out-faring. "But there is also me"

"Yes." Aufrica's hands Were busy as she crushed dried
herbs into a scented paste in the mortar she held be-
tween her knees. "She went to a place of the power
to ask for a son, but also she spoke for a daughter. I
think that she, also, wished one to take her place in
the world. You are witch-born, Elys, though what I
can teach you is very little beside what your mother
knew. Yet all I have learned shall be yours."

A strange upraising indeed. For if Aufrica saw in
me my mother's daughter, to be nurtured with the
learning of old powers, my father saw a second son.
I did not wear the kirtle and skirt of a village maid,
but breeches and tunic like my brother's. This was to
suit my father, as he was uneasy if I appeared before
him otherwise.

Aufrica thought that Was because as I grew older and
taller and more of a woman I resembled my mother
and that made him unhappy. So I kept to the likeness
of Elyn and he was satisfied.

It was not only in apparel that my father wished me
son rather than daughter. From the earliest years he
taught me arms-play, matching Elyn and me. First we
thrust and parried with small, mock swords made from
driftwood. But as we grew older he beat out twin
blades in the smithy. And I knew as much of the art
of battle as any Dales squire.

However, he yielded to Aufrica, that I had my time
with her. We quested into the hills for herbs, and for
her to show me certain places of the Old Ones and re-
lay to me the rituals and ceremonies which must be
observed at phases of the moon should it be desired.

I saw the star-walled place where my mother had
wrought her High Moon Magic, but that we never
ventured in. Though we brought harvests from about
the walls.

I had seen many times the cup my mother had
brought from that final sorcery. Aufrica kept it among
her most precious things, never touching it with her
bare hands, but always with a square of green-blue stuff
she valued highly. It was silver in color, that cup, but
also other colors ran across its surface when it was
turned this way or that.

"Dragon scales," Aufrica told me. "This is dragon
scale silver. I had heard of it in old legends, but never
did I see it before the dragon fire itself wrought this
at the Lady's bidding. It is thing of very great power;
guard it well."

"You speak as if it is mine" I marveled at the cup,
for it was a thing of such beauty as one might see only
once in a lifetime.

"Yours it is when there is time and need. It is bound
to you and to Elyn. But only you, being what you are,
can make use of it." Nor did she say more then.

I have spoken of Aufrica who was very close to me,
and of my father, who walked, talked, and lived as if
a thin sheet of some invisible armor cut him away
from the rest of mankind. But I have not spoken of
Elyn.

We were born at one birth, yet we were not close
copies of one another. Only in our faces and persons
was that so. Our interests were never the same. He
loved action, swordplay, and he chafed at the narrow
life of Wark. He was reckless and often disciplined
by my father for leading other boys into trouble or
danger. And he used to stand outside at times, staring
at the hills with such longing in his eyes that he seemed
a hawk in chains.

I found my freedom inwardly, he wanted his out-
wardly. He had impatience for Aufrica's teachings. And
as he grew he spoke more often of Jurby, of going
there to take service with a Dales lord.

That my father would have had to let him go at last

we knew. But in the end war answered that for us.
For in the Year of the Fire Troll the invaders came to
High Hallack.

They were seaborne, and, when my father heard of
their raids upon the coast keeps and towns, his mouth
set hard. For it seemed that they were enemies long
known to his own people. He put aside those moods
of other-being when he walked apart and one night
he spoke to us and Aufrica with the determination of
a man who had decided upon a course and would not
be turned from it.

He would go to the Lord of Vestdale and offer his
swordand more than his sword, for knowing this en-
emy of old, he had that to offer which could prepare
resistance the better. Looking upon his face we knew
that nothing we might say or do could turn him from
this course.

Elyn then arose and said if my father would go, then
he also as squire. And his determination was as set and
sterntheir faces alike, one to the other, in that mo-
ment as if one was the mirrored reflection of the other.

But my father won that battle of wills, saying that
Elyn's duty was to me and to Aufrica for the present
But he swore a binding oath that he would send for
Elyn later, so his authority held.

However, my father did not depart at once; rather,
he wrought in the smithy day and night. But first he
went into the hills with a pack pony. When he re-
turned his animal was heavily laden with lumps of
metal which might have once been worked and then
congealed into these masses.

From these he wrought, Kaleb aiding him, two
swords and two shirts of fine and supple chain mail.
One of these he gave to Elyn, the other he brought
to me. When he laid it down he spoke as one who
would have his words heeded, to be remembered in
days to come.

"I do not have the gift of foreseeing that she had"
seldom did he mention my mother, and then never
by nameshe might have been some great lady he

held in reverence and awe. "But I have dreamed, and
of my dreams has come thisthat there lies before you
some venture in which you must go girt with more
than your strong spirit and courage, my daughter.
Though I have not treated you as a maidyet"

It seemed that words failed him. He stroked the
mail shirt as if it were silk, nor did he look directly
at me, but turned sharply and went before I could
speak. And in the next dawn he took the hill path to
Vestdale. Nor did we ever see him again.

The Year of the Fire Troll passed, and as yet we
dwelt safe in our small clift pocket, we of Wark. But
Omund made no year-end voyage to Jurby, for a small
band of hard-used folk came over the hills to tell us
Jurby had fallen to the enemy in a single night of
red wrack and ravage. And that Vestdale Keep was
now besieged.

The villagers met and tried to plan. They had al-
ways lived by the sea, yet it seemed now that the
sea might be their bane and to flee inland meant safety.
The younger men, and those without strong family
ties, spoke to make a stand where we were. But others
thought it better to abandon the village and return later
if no invasion came nigh.

Tales of the refugees swung the day, for those hear-
ing their accounts of the red ruin the raiders left
urged retreat, and that decision won.

During all debate my brother listened but did not
speak. I read in his face that he had made his own de-
cision. So when we went back to the house I faced
him and said:

"There comes a time when one can no longer keep
sword in sheath. If you would gogo with our bless-
ing of good fortune. You have served your time here;
be sure we shall have safety on our side when we take
to the hills, for who knows their secrets better than
Aufrica and I?"

For a long moment he was silent and then he looked
at me straightly.

"There is bred in me that which I must answer, for

a year I have been trapped here. Yet I was promise-
bound."

I went to Aufrica's cupboard, and she, sitting on a
stool by the fire and watching, said not a word. What
I brought forth was the dragon cup of our heritage.
When I set it on the table between us I let fall the
wrapping and set my two hands boldly about the cool
curve of its sides. So I held it for the space of a few
breaths.

Then Aufrica arose in turn and brought from her
stores a bottle of herb brew I had never seen her open
before. She drew its stopper with her teeth, keeping
both hands about it as if she feared she might drop or
spill what she carried. Into the cup she poured a thick
golden liquid, and a spicy odor filled the room, carry-
ing with it the plentiful ripeness of a good harvest,
the slumberous fullness of early autumn.

Halfway she filled the cup as I held it; then she
drew back, leaving Elyn and me facing each other
across it. I loosed my hold, reached out, catching his
hands, drawing them to the smooth silver.

"Drink," I told him, "half of this, drink. For it is
the cup we must share before we part."

Without question he raised it two-handed, and did
not set it down again until he had swallowed half the
potion. Then I took it in turn and finished what was
left.

"While we are parted," I told him, "I shall read your
fate in this. For while the silver remains clear as you
now see it, then all is well. But if it clouds"

He did not let me finish. "These are times of war,
sister. No man walks safely forever."

"True. Yet sometimes ill can be turned to well."

Elyn made an impatient gesture. Never had he taken
any interest in wise knowledge. It was as if he deemed
such of little value. Still we had never brought this
difference into words. Nor did we now.

Rather I put away the cup and worked with Aufrica
preparing what he must take with him, covers to sleep
warm in on the trail, food and drink, as well as a wal-
let of healing herbs. And, like my father, he went.

But those of Wark left also. Some of the younger
men followed my brother like an ill-drilled menial. For
he was, in spite of his youth, a leader amongst them
in his knowledge of arms. The rest of us barred the
doors of our houses, loaded our pack ponies, and took
to the hills.

That was an ill winter. We found refuge, first in an
inland village, until an alarm of raiders camethen far-
ther inland in barren country. Until we lived in caves
and other rude shelters. Always came tales of farther
and farther invasion, more and more taking of High
Hallack.

Aufrica and I were much called upon for our knowl-
edge of healing, not only of wounds when wanderers
from lost battles chanced upon us, but of the many
illnesses which come from hard living, hunger, and
even of hearts giving up hope. Since we faced dangers
which were more sharp and sudden, I wore the mail
my father had fashioned for me, knew sword-weight
at my belt Just as I learned to use the bow for hunt-
ing, both for the pot and for those who would prey
on us for what sorry possessions we had left.

As it always is when there is no law in the land
and only war and more war, season after season, there
were those who had been born of our own kind and
now skulked as filthy scavengers, preying on all too
weak to defend themselves. I killed in those days and
knew no sorrow for it, for those I so slew were not
truly men.

One thing I kept ever by me Was the cup, and
each morn I took it forth to look upon it. Never was
its brilliance dimmed, so I knew all was right with
Elyn.

Sometimes I tried to reach him by a dream bridge,
using a sleep potion. Yet all I bore back into wakeful-
ness was a confusion of half memories. At those times
I hungered for more than Aufrica could teach me, for
what my mother must once have had.

In our wanderings we came nigh now and then those
places of the Old Ones. From several we urged our
now small and stumbling band away. For what crept

like a foul fog from those was evil malevolence, wholly
alien to our kind. Others were emptyas if what they
had once cupped was long fled or had seeped away
through the years. A few were welcoming, and to those
Aufrica and I went, hoping to evoke something of
what centered there. Yet we had not the proper train-
ing to take more with us when we left than a sense
of peace and inner refreshment.

There were no longer named years for us, just the
passing of seasons. In the third summer we found ref-
uge at last. Some of our band had split away, choos-
ing other roads. But our small remaining group, with
Omund at its head (he was now much crippled with
an aching ailment of the bones), his younger brothers,
their wives, two daughters with children whose hus-
bands had followed Elyn (for which they sometimes
looked ill at me yet never spoke their feelings aloud),
and three more households in which the men were
elderly, remained together.

We found a way into a small upland dale which had
never been settled or visited save by shepherds in sea-
son, or cattle drovers, who left huts where they had
sheltered during the grazing months. There we stayed,
our handful of sheep, our half-score of footsore ponies,
glad to be at rest. And the people who had spent their
lives combing a living from the sea turned with pa-
tient labor to win some sustenance from the hills.

In high places overlooking the two passes we kept
guards. So different had life become that those guards
were mainly women, armed with bows and with spears
which had once been the harpoons of deep-sea fish-
ermen. Well did we keep watch and ward, for we had
seen several times what chanced in small settlements
when those raving wolves of scavengers came down.

It was midsummer of our second year in that pocket
of earth, and most of the others were at labor tending
what grain and roots we had saved for this season's
planting, that I was on hill watch and saw for the first
time riders on that faint track which would bring them
to the south pass. I raised my bared sword and with
the sun flickering on its bright blade signaled the

alert down valley. I myself went by previously learned
ways to spy closer upon those who came. For by this
time we judged all strangers enemies.

As I lay upon a sunwarmed rock and watched, I
could see that they were little threat to us. For we
made up in will and preparedness enough to handle
these two.

They were plainly fighting men, but their mail was
rusted and gashed. One had been tied to his saddle
and drooped so he might have fallen to the ground
had it not been for those ties and the fact that his
comrade rode close beside him, leading his mount.
There were bloodied rags bound around the head and

the shoulder of the half-unconscious rider, and about
the forearm of his companion.

That companion looked time and again to their back
trail, as if he expected pursuers. He still wore a helm
topped with a crest of a swooping hawk, though one
wing of that was shorn away. And both had the ragged
tatters of heraldic coats over their mail, though what-
ever device those had once displayed was so raveled
as to be unreadable. Not that I was learned in the sym-
bols of the noble Dale houses.

Both men had swords, now sheathed. And the
helmed one a crossbow. But they had no field packs,
and their mounts ambled at a footsore pace, as if nigh
to floundering.

I inched a little back and got to my feet in the
shadows, setting arrow to bow cord.

"Stand!"

My order must have seemed to come from empty
air. The helmed man jerked his head. I could not see
his face clearly because of the overhang of his head-
gear, but his hand was on sword hilt in swift, sure move-
ment. Then he must have thought better of what might
be useless defiance, for he did not draw.

"Stand forth yourself, lurker, steel to steel!" His voice
was hoarse and low, but he bore himself as one ready
to meet trouble as it came.

"Not so," I answered. "I have that which will pin
death to you, bold man! Come out of your saddle and
put your weapons from you."

He laughed then.

"Cut me down as you will, voice from the rocks. I
put aside my blade for no man. If you want itcome
and take it!"

Now he deliberately drew his weapon, held it at
readiness. Even as he faced me so his comrade stirred
and groaned, and the other urged his horse a little on,
pushing between the wounded man and where he must
believe I stood.

"Why do you come here?"

His constant glancing at his back trail remained in

my mind and I wondered if he led more trouble to us.
Two such men we could handlebut more

"We come no place." There was vast weariness in his
voice. "We are hunted men as you can guess if you are
not blind. Three days ago Haverdale stood rearguard
at the Ford of Ingra. We are what is left of that force.
We bought time as we promised, but how much" He
shrugged. "By your speech you are of the Dales, not
the Hounds. I am Jervon, once Marshal of Horsethis
is Pell, my lord's younger brother."

That bristling defiance seeped from him; the weari-
ness lay like a heavy burden on him. And I knewas
if I had cast runes on itthat these men were no men-
ace to my people, unless they drew after them what
we could not handle.

So I came out of hiding. As I wore mail, he believed
me a man, and I let him think it. But I brought them
into the Dale and to the tending of Aufrica.

Those with Omund were first ready to find me at
fault, saying trouble rode with such strangers. But I
asked what else I might have doneslain them out of
hand perhaps? And that shamed them, for though their
hard life had brought a certain callousness to them,
yet they still remembered the old days when a man's
door stood open to the world, with bread and drink
set always at the table as welcome to all travelers.

Pell was gravely injured and Aufrica, for all her skill,
could not hold back the shadow of death, though she
fought valiantly for his life. Jervon, though he had ap-
peared strong and ready to fight, took a fever from his
ill-tended wound, and lay with wandering wits and
burning flesh for some days. Pell had slipped beyond
help and was laid in our small Field of Memory (where
four others of our people slept) before he spoke again
rationally.

I had been standing by his bed, watching and won-
dering if he, too, in the fierce burning of the fever
would go from us, and thinking that would be a sad
waste of a man, when he opened his eyes and looked
straight at me. Then he frowned a little as he spoke:

"I remember you"

His greeting was odd, but many times a person out
of grave illness carries half dreams which are confused.

I brought a cup of herb drink and put my arm about
his shoulders to raise him to drink of it.

"You should," I told him as he sipped. "I brought
you here."

He said nothing more, though he still watched me
with that faint frown. Then he asked:

"My lord Pell?"

I used the saying of the country people. "He has
gone ahead."

His eyes closed, but I saw his mouth tighten. What
Pell had been to him, I did not know. But they were
at least battle comrades, and I guessed that he had done
much to try to save him.

But I did not know what to say then. For to some
sorrow is a silent thing which they must battle alone,
and I thought perhaps Jervon was such a one.

However, I surveyed him as he lay there. Though
he was wasted and gaunt from fever, and perhaps from
earlier hardship, he was a man of good presence, tall,
if spare of body, but, like my father a swordsman born.
He was a Dalesman in that his hair was golden-brown
(lighter than the skin of his face and hands which were
darkly browned by the weather) and his features well
cut. I thought I could like what I saw, save there was
no reason to believe that I would ever have any closer
contact to continue or deepen such liking. He would
heal and then ride away, as had my father and Elyn.

3

Tarnished Silver

YET JERVON did not heal as speedily as we had
thought, for the fever weakened him, mainly in his
wounded arm. Although he worked grimly at exercises
to restore full use, still he could not order fingers to

tighten to grip as they should. Patiently, or outwardly
so, he would toss a small stone from hand to hand,
striving to grip it with full strength.

However he took part in our work in the dale, both
in the ragged fields and as sentry in the hills. And in
this much we favored, none trailed him.

We gathered at night to listen to his accounts of the
war, though he spoke of dales, and towns, fords, and
roads of which we had never heard, since those of Wark
had never traveled far overland until they had been
uprooted. By his account the struggle was going ill for
the Dales. All the southern coast holdings had long since
been overrun, and only a ragged, desperate force had
withdrawn to the north and the west. It had been dur-
ing that last withdrawal that his own people had been
overwhelmed.

"But the Lords have made a pact," he told us, "with
those who have powers greateror so they saythan
those of sword and bow. In the spring of this Year of
the Gryphon they met with the Were-Riders of the
wastes and those will fight hereafter with us."

I heard a low whistle or two, for what he spoke of
was indeed an unheard-of thingthat Dalesmen should
treat with the Old Ones. For of those the Were-Riders
were. Though the Dales had lain mainly empty at the
coming of the settlers, yet there were still a few of
those who had held this land eons before. And not all
of them were such unseen presences as my mother had
dealt with, but rather resembled men.

Such were the Were-Riders, men, in part, in other
ways different. There were many tales about them and
none which could be sworn to, since they were always
reported third- or fourth-hand. But that they were a
formidable force to enlist on our side no one could
deny. And such was our hatred for the invadersthose
Hounds of Alizonthat we would have Welcomed mon-
sters if they would march with our host.

The long summer became fall and still Jervon worked
to restore skill to his hand. Now he took to combing
the hills with his crossbow, bringing back game, yet
not going as a hunter. He was a lone man, courteous

and pleasant. Still as my father had been, one who
erected a barrier between himself and the world.

He stayed with Aufrica until his hurt was healed as
well as she could manage, then went to make a hut
for himself a little apart. Never was he one with us.
Nor did I see much of him, save at a distance. But
since my skill with the bow was in much demand to
lay up meat to be dried and salted (we had found a
salt lick, a very precious thing), I was not often in our
straggle of huts.

Then one day I slid down a steep bank to break my
thirst at a bubbling spring. There he lay. He must have
been staring up at the sky, but at my coming he started
up, his hand to sword hilt. But what he said to me
was no greeting:

"I remember where I saw you firstbut that cannot
be so!" He shook his head as if completely puzzled.
"How can you ride with Franklyn of Edale and also
be here? Yet I would have sworn"

I turned to him eagerly. For if he had seen Elyn,
then indeed he would be bewildered by our likeness.

"That was my brother, born at one birth with me!
Tell me, when did you see himand where?"

The puzzlement faded from Jervon's face. He sat
working his hand upon a stone as he always did. "It
was at the last muster at Inisheer. Franklyn's men have
devised a new way of war. They hide out in the land
and allow the enemy to push past them, then harry
them from the rear. It is a very dangerous way." Jer-
von paused, looked at me quickly, as if he wished he
had not been so frank.

I answered his thought. "Being his father's son Elyn
would glory in such danger. I never believed he could
be found far from action."

"They have won great renown. And your brother is
far from the least among them. For all his youth they
name him Horn Leader. He did not speak at our coun-
cil, but he stood at Franklyn's shoulderand they say
by Franklyn's will he is handfasted to the Lady Bru-
nissende, who is Franklyn's heiress."

I could think of Elyn as a fighter and one of re-

nown, but the news that he was hand-fasted made me
blink. Seasons had passed, yet I saw him still in my
mind the boy who had ridden out of Wark, untaught
in the ways of war, yet eager to see sword bared against
sword.

Moved by the thought of time, I wondered about
myself. If Elyn was a man, then I was a woman. Yet
of the ways of a woman I had little knowledge. In my
father's day I had learned to be a son, from Aufrica to
be a Wise Woman. But I had never been myselfme.
Now I was a hunter, a fighter if the need demanded.
But I was not a woman.

"Yes, you are very like," Jervon's voice broke through
my straying thoughts. "This is a strange, hard life for
a maid, Lady Elys."

"In these days all is awry," I made swift answer. For
I was not minded to let him think I felt that there
was aught strange in what I did, or was. It questioned
my pride and that I would not allow.

"And it seems this must be so forever!" Now he
looked at his hand, flexing his fingers.

My eyes followed his. "You do better!" It was true,
he had more control.

"Slow, but it mends," he agreed. "When I can use
arms again I must ride."
"Whither?"

At that he smiled with a touch of grimness. But,
limited though it was, that change of expression made
him for an instant like another person. And I suddenly
wondered what Jervon would be if the darkness of
war were lifted from him and he free to seek what
he wanted of life.

"Whither is right, Lady Elys. For I know not where
this dale of yours lies in relation to those I rode with.
And when I set forth it will be a case of hunting to
findrather than be foundby the enemy."

"The snows are early in this high country." I drank
from a palmful of water. It was very cold, already there
might have been ice touched at its source. "We are shut
in when the passes close."
He looked to the peaks, from one to another.

"That I can believe. You have wintered here though."
"Yes. It means tight-pulled belts toward spring, but
each year we make better of what we have, lay in more
supplies. There were two extra fields planted this year.
The mills have ground twice as much barley this past
month. Also we have salted down six wild cows, the
which we were not lucky enough to have last year."
"But what do you do when snow closes in?"
"We keep within. At first we suffered from lack of
wood." I could shudder even now at the memory of
that and the three deaths which came of it. "Then
Edgir found the black stone which burns. He did it
by chance, having set his night-hunter-fire against such
a stoneit caught afire and kept him well warmed.
So now we haul in baskets of ityou must have seen
the bins against each hut. We spin, we weave, we
carve deer's horn and wood, and make the small things
which keep life from being too harsh and gray.

"There is a songsmithUttar. He tells not only the
old tales, but fashions new ones from our own wan-
derings. He also has made a lap-harp to play upon. No,
we are not lacking life and interest during the cold."
"And this is what you have known all your life,
Lady Elys?" There was a note in his voice I did not
understand.

"In Wark there was more. We had the sea and trade
with Jurby. AlsoAufrica and Iwe have much to keep
us busy."

"Yet you are what you areno fisher maid, nor farm
wench."

"NoI am Wise Woman, hunter, warrior And now
I must be about my hunting."

I arose, disturbed at that note in his voice. Did he
dare to pity me? I was Elys and I had much more
within the hollow of my hand than perhaps any dale
lady. Though I might not have my mother's learning,
yet there were places I could go, things I might do,
which would turn such fragile flowers into, quivering,
white-faced nothings!

So I left him with a small wave of the hand, and
went seeking hill deer. Though I had little luck that

day and brought back only two forest fowl for all my
tramping.

Through all these days I never ceased to draw out
the cup binding Elyn and me and look upon it each
day. Though I did this secretly. It was on the fourth
day after my chance meeting with Jervon that I drew
aside the covering and was startled. For the gleaming
beauty was dimmed, as if some faint tarnishing had
spread a film across it.

Aufrica, seeing that, cried out. But I was silent, only
inside me was a sharp thrust, not of pain, but of fear
which was in itself a kind of pain. I rubbed hastily at
the metal, to no purpose. This was not caused by any
dust, or moisture condensing on the surface, but an
inner clouding. It was not lifeless and dead, which
would mean Elyn was beyond any help of mine, but
that he was in danger this was the first warning.

I spoke to Aufrica. "I would far-see"

She went to the rude cupboard now the safekeep-
ing place of all her painfully gathered stores. From
there she took a large shell with a well-polished in-
terior.

Also she gathered small vials and a leathern bottle
and a copper pot no bigger than my hand. Into the last
she dropped powder pinch by pinch. Then began to
combine in a beaker a drop of this, a spoon measure
of that, until she had a dark red liquid washing there
as she turned it around and around to mix it

"It is ready."

I pulled a splinter from the firebox, dipped it to
the flame, and with it ignited the contents of the pot.
Greenish smoke, strong scented, curled up. Aufrica
poured the crimson stream into the dragon cup, tak-
ing care it reached almost to the inner rim yet did
not overflow. Then quickly she repoured it into the
shell basin.

Before that I sat. The scented smoke made me feel
a little lightheaded, as if, did I not use my will to re-
main on the stool, I might float away. Now I leaned
forward and looked into the ruby pool in the shell.

This was not the first time I had used" the power of

scrying, yet never before had it been of such impor-
tance to me. So I was tense and willed the sight to
come quickly and clearly. The red of the liquid faded
and I saw, as one looking into a room from a far dis-
tance. For it was a room which was pictured there.
The details, though small, were clear and sharp.

By the shadows it was night, yet a candle-holder as
tall as a man's shoulder stood at one end of a curtained
bed. In that a fist-thick candle burned bright. The bed
was rich, its curtains patterned by a skilful needle,
and those curtains had not been closed. Resting there-
in against pillows was a young girl of the Dales peo-
ple. Her face was fine of feature and very fair, her
unbound hair ribbons of gold about her shoulders. She
sleptor at least her eyes were closed.

In all it was a scene of rich splendor such as might
be from some tale a songsmith created.

But the girl was not alone for, even as I watched,
one moved out of the shadows. As the candlelight fell
full upon his face, I saw it was my brother, though
older than I remembered him. He glanced at the sleep-
ing girl as if he feared her waking.

Then he went to the wall where was a window.
That Was closed by a great shutter with three bars
locked across it, as if he, or those who had closed it,
wanted to make very sure it could not be opened in
haste.

Elyn brought forth a dagger and began to pry here
and there. On his face was intent concentration, as if
what he did now was of such importance that nothing
else mattered.

He wore a loose bedchamber robe girdled about him,
and, as he raised his arms to lever with the dagger,
the wide sleeves fell back to show his bare, well-mus-
cled arms. On the bed the covers were tumbled, the
pillow dented where he must recently have lain. Yet
he worked with such dire determination that I could
feel it as I watched.

Beyond that barrier Was something calling him. And
I also felt the faint, far touch of that call. It was like
the fiery end of a burning splinter touched to my bare

flesh! From it my mind flinched as if I felt the actual
pain of a burn. Flinched, and so broke the power of
the scry bowl, so the picture vanished.

I was breathing hard and fast as if I had fled some
danger. As indeed I had. For what pulled Elyn into
such action was peril indeed. And it was not of his
world at allunless he had greatly altered since we
drank farewell from the dragon cup.

"Danger" Aufrica did not ask a question, she stated
a fact.

"Elynhe is drawn by something of aa dark Great
One!"

"As yet it is only a warning." She pointed to the
cup. "A faint shadow"

"But the warning is for me. If he is fair caught in
some ensorcelment he will not be easily kept from the
trap. He is not my mother's son, but my father's. There
is none of the gift in him."

"True said. And now you will go to him."
"I will go, hoping that I may be in time."
"You have all that I could give you." Her voice was
touched with pain. "You have what came to you by
right of birth. But you have not what armed my lady.
Daughter of the heart have you been to me, me who
had no child of my flesh, since I was not one to tread
the path your mother walked in her time. I cannot
stay you from going, but with you you take my sun"
She bowed her head and hid her face in her hands.
For the first time I noted, with surprise, that those
were thin and wrinkled, showing more clearly the ap-
proach of age than did her face. For she was one of
those with good bones, whose skin was clear and
tight. Yet in that moment she huddled on her stool
as one beaten, all the passing years pressing upon her
at once as a burden under which she was like to sink.
"Mother-kin have you been to me." I rested my
hands on her hunched shoulders. "No more have I
ever asked than to be daughter-kin to you, Wise Wom-
an. But in this thing I have no choice."

"That I know also. For it is in my mind that your
Lady Mother thought that this would be your path in

life, to serve others, even as she did in her time. I
shall fear for you"

"Not sol" I interrupted her. "For to think fear is to
give it life. You must rather work with power, saying
that I go not to defeat, but victory."

Aufrica raised her head, and seemed to banish by
will her trouble. I knew that she now determined her
strength would be as a force of swordsmen to guard
me. And the strength of Aufrica as I well knew (I
who had seen her battle death in her time and win)
was a thing to be reckoned high.

"Where will you seek?" She spoke briskly as one
who would plan.

"For thatthe casting."

Again she went to her store place and this time
brought out a much-folded cloth to be smoothed flat
It was divided with lines of gold into four quarters,
and those quarters in turn to small triangles by lines
of red all running through the center inscribed with
runes no man could longer read but which were Words
of Power.

Then she produced a chain of gold from which hung
pendant a small ball of crystal. On the other end of
the chain was a band ring she slipped on her finger.
She then stood by the table, stretching forth her hand
until the ball was directly over that centerpoint on
the cloth. Though her hand held steady, the ball be-
gan to swing back and forth. Then it altered that swing,
traveling only along one of the red lines, back and
forth. I studied and remembered.

Sosouth and west I must go. And soon, or, as I
had warned Jervon, the snow would come to close the
passes and there Would be no traveling at all.

Now the ball hung motionless. Aufrica drew it up
by its chain into her hand and put it away in a small
bag as I refolded the cloth.

"Tomorrow," I said.

"It is best," she agreed. Straightaway she went once
more to her storage place and began taking stock there.
I knew she would send me forth as well armed with
those things of the Wise Learning as she could.

But I went to seek Omund in his hut. Since all were
aware that Aufrica and I had ways of seeing the un-
seeable and dealing with matters not open to most,
my news would not sound unbelievable to him. Though
we did not explain to any the methods we used to
gain our foreknowledge. I merely told him that through
file learning of a Wise Woman I had discovered my
brother was in trouble. And that trouble came not from
war but was of the Old Ones. Therefore, since this
was a birth geas long laid on me, I must go to his aid.
Omund nodded his head when I was done, though
his womenfolk, as always, gave me side looks of ill-
confidence.

"It is as you say, Lady, there is no choice for you.
You leave us soon then?"

"With tomorrow's dawn. The snow may come early
this year."

"True. Well, Lady, you have dealt fair and fine with
us, as did your Lady Mother and the Lord, your father,
when they dwelt among us. But we are neither blood
nor kin of yours. And both those are ties we must an-
swer when the call comes. For all your aid in the past
we are thankful and" He arose stiffly to his feet and
went to a box-chest he had made. "This is small enough
return for all you have done, but it will keep you
warm of nights in this harsh land."

He brought out a journey cloak which must have
been the work of many days. It was fashioned of the
shaggy hair of the high mountain goats left on the
hides, yet dyed a soft, dark purple like the haze of
twilighta color which might be accident of some
chance combination of dyes and not to be found again.
It had a beauty which was rare in our present lives.
Nor would I believe that any lady would have a winter
covering to better it.

My thanks I could only make in words, yet I was
sure he understood what this meant to me. For in my
life I had many useful things and things well made,
but seldom did those combine with beauty also. But
he only smiled and clasped my hand in both of his,

bending his grayed head to touch his lips to my cal-
loused fingers as if, indeed, I was his lady.

In that moment I realized that, strange though I had
felt myself in Wark always, yet, in a way these were
my people and I was losing something now. Still not
all felt as Omund, and those even of his household
were glad to see me go.

With the cloak over my arm I went back to Aufrica
there being none other here to take private leave
of. There, somewhat to my surprise, I found Jervon.
He was seated by the table which was now bare of
all Aufrica's things of power, though she was still fit-
ting packets into a shoulder bag. And he seemed more
at ease than I had seen him before, in his hand a cup
of Aufrica's blended herb brewing sweetened with wild
honey.

He arose as I entered and there was an eagerness
about him I had not seen before.
"The Wise Woman says you ride forth, my lady."
"I have that which must be done."
"Which I have also, having lingered long enough.
Therefore, these being days when no man rides alone
if he can help it, there being a need for eyes to watch
both sides of the road, we shall fare together."

Nor did he ask that, rather he spoke as if it were
already decided. That irked me. Yet I knew that he
spoke the truththat to travel in company, and with
one who knew far better than I the dangers wherein
I would travel, would be an aid I dared not, simply
out of pride, refuse. So I schooled my voice, but I
asked:

"And if I ride not in your direction, swordsman?"
He shrugged. "Have I not said I know not where
my lord may now be? If you seek your brother to the
south and west, there shall I also find news of my ban-
ner. Though I warn you, Lady, we may be heading
directly into the open mouth of the dragon, or per-
haps I should saythe open jaws of the Hounds!"

"Of which your knowledge shall warn us," I retorted.
I was determined that this would be no farfaring in
which I was to be treated as a fine lady from a Dale

house, guarded and swaddled with care. If we rode
together, it was as battle comrades, free and equal. But
how I Was to say this I did not yet know.

Aufrica, seeing the cloak, came forward with an ex-
clamation of delight that I would have such a fine pro-
tection against the cold. And she straightaway brought
out a box brooch to fasten it. Nor did I need telling
that within the lid of that was set as powerful a travel
spell as she could evoke.

Jervon put down his cup.

"With the dawn then, Lady? We do not go afoot
I have the horse which bore me hither, and the one
which was Pell's."

"Dawn," I agreed. And I was pleased at the thought
of horses, for they would mean swifter passage. South
and westbut to whereand how far?

4

Coomb Frome

PERFORCE we took the road which had brought
Jervon as there was no other trace across the wilder-
ness. And, since his coming, none had traveled it.

It was a very old road, and here and there were signs
it had been worked uponby man? I thought not, for
those before us here had been only herdsmen and
hunters, wandering folk. Which meant this was a way
of the Old Ones.

"This comes within a league of the Ford," Jervon
said. "But there it loops away from the sea. We turned
into it only because it gave better footing for the race
we were forced to. But where it comes from and to
where it leads" He shrugged.

"It is of the Old Ones, and who knows their rea-
sons?" That was a Dales' answer, yet I knew there was
always logic in the remains of the Old Onesthough
it might not be ours.

"You are not of the Dales." He sent that statement
at me as he might a well-aimed crossbow bolt, a deadly
one.

Deadly? Why had that thought" come to me? But I
made truthful answer.

"I was born in Wark, therefore I am of the Dales.
But my parents came from overseas. Yet they were
not of Alizon, but of some nation already at war with
the Hounds. So that when my father heard of the in-
vasion he straightaway rode to war. Since we have heard
naught since, and it has been many seasons now, he is
likely dead. My mother died at the birthing of Elyn
and me. That is my breeding, swordsman."

"No, you have nothing of the Dales in you," he con-
tinued, almost as if he had not heard my words. "They
say things of you, these people once of Wark"

"As they say of any Wise Woman," I countered. And
I did not doubt that many things had been said of me,
surely not all to my favor, for with Aufrica alone had
I been close. And such as Omund's women had long
looked askance as I passed. I was not wedded wife,
not like to befor that state goes not with my gifts.
That, too, made a gulf. Had we had more able-bodied
men I might have been pushed to a troublemaking
decision. For I was not like to tend the hearth of any
man of Wark.

"More than Wise Woman, they say. They speak be-
hind their hands of dealings with the Old Ones."
There was no tone of awe nor trace of aversion in his
voice, only curiosity. He was like a warrior confronted
by a new weapon who would ask questions concerning
it.

"Would I might say that was so! One able to bargain
with the Old Ones need not live as you saw us living.
Do not men say that the power can bring all things-
build Keep in a night, dash an enemy army into noth-
ingness, make a rich garden grow on barren rock? Have
you seen that behind us?"

To my surprise he laughed. "Far from it, shield-
maid. But I do not decry the learning of a Wise Wom-
anwhether she be of a village or one of the Houses

of Dames. Also, I think that the Old Ones might not
be interested in our petty squabblesor so must our
strivings seem to themand they could be inclined
to treat summarily any who disturb their rest."

"You must seek them, they come not uncalled." And
in that I might have been foreseeing without know-
ing it.

The country continued barren and we kept to an
even pace which did not tax our mounts, for to be
afoot here would be dire. At noon we turned from that
old road way and ate journey bread, drank from a stream,
and let our mounts graze for a space. Jervon lay on
his back, looking up into the laced branches of a gnarled
tree which hung, with just a thin tatter of leaves, over
the bank above the spring.

"I am truly of the Dales," he said. "My father was
a third son and so landless. After the custom he took
oath to the Lord of Dorn, who was kinsman to his
mother, and became his Marshal of Horse. My mother
was a damozel of the Lady Guida's household. I was
well trained. My father had it in his mind to strike
out, when I was old enough, to the northern wild
country, and seek his own land. He had four or five
heads of households pledged to back him.

"Then came the invaders and there was no thought
of riding north, only of trying to preserve what we
already had. Dorn was in the path of the first inward
thrust. They took the Keep in five days, for they had
new Weapons which spat fire and even ate rock. I had
ridden to Haverdale to beg help. We caught up with
two survivors on the road three days later. Dorn was
gone, erased as if it had never been. We did not be-
lieve them at first. I took to the country that night
and reached a place from which I could look down.
What I saw might have been a place of the Old Ones,
so time tumbled you could not tell wall from court-
yard."

He spoke without emotion, perhaps time had dulled
it so this seemed now to have happened to another
man. This is a merciful healing when it happens. Now
he paused and, though his eyes seemed to search the

branches over him, yet I knew he saw something far
different.

"I stayed with Haverdale and took oath. We could
not hold the western road, not with the devil weap-
ons of the Hounds on it. Though those did not last
long. They could be destroyed by desperate men and
fire, and they were. It would seem that the Hounds
had no others, at least we did not see them crunching
over the countryside again. But they had made good
use of them. Every major Dale hold in the south was
goneevery one!" The hand lying on his chest balled
into a fist, though there was still no emotion in his
voice.

"There was no one leader to whom all the Dale
lords would rally. The Hounds had made sure of that

Bernard of Dorn, Myric of Gastendale, Dauch, Yonan

all the men of promise were either wiped out with
their holds and their followers, or assassinated. The
Hounds were well prepared, they knew all our weak
points. And it would seem we had more of those than
defenses. The lords did not unite and they had no
trouble plucking them off one by one as they would
pluck ripe fruit from a heavily laden branch.

"We could only run, and perhaps hit, and then run
again. And we would have all been bleaching bones
had not the Four Lords come out of the north and
beat some order and sense into us. They made all see
we must unite or die. So there was the confederation
and they made the pact with the Were-Riders.

"It has been long, but the tide is turning now. We
have driven them back dale by dalethough they rally
at timeswe who were at Ingra Ford can say that. But
in time I think the Hounds will howl instead of bay
and we shall have a final accounting. Though what
will be left then For there are many lords dead and
dales war swept. High Hallack will be another land al-
together. Perhaps there will be an overrule of the Four

no, Threefor Skirkar is dead and he leaves no son

to raise hold banner. Yes, it will be a different land."

"What will you do? Remain Marshal at Haverdale?"

"If I live that long, you mean?" He smiled. "We do

not plan futures for ourselves any more. There will be
some to survive, but as a fighting man I cannot say
I shall be among them. I do not know what will chance
if I live to see full victory. For all the days since I
have been counted a man I have been at war. I can
hardly remember what peace means. Sono, I do not
think I shall give peace-oath to Haverdale. Perhaps I
may even follow my father's dream, go north and seek
land of my own. But I plan not. To live through an-
other day takes all the wits a man has."

"There are tales of the north and east, that there are
more remainders of the Old Ones there." I was trying
to remember what little I had heard of that country.

"True enough. So perhaps it is just as well not to
go troubling in those quarters. It is time we ride, shield-
maid."

Nightfall found us in a place of rocks and there we
huddled without any betraying fire. I offered the over-
protection of Omund's cloak as I would to any com-
rade. And he accepted cloth-company as he might had
I been Elyn and not Elys. So that the warmth of our
bodies under the cloak let us sleep snug in spite of
frost without.

Another day's ride and we were at the Ford. The
wrack of the fight was still strewn there. Though there
was a funeral pyre at one side. Jervon raised bared
sword in salute.

"Haverdale did that. They paid death honors. There-
fore they gained forces and returned." He dismounted
and went searching among discarded weapons, return-
ing with a dozen crossbow bolts to replenish his small
stock. He also had a fine dagger with a gemmed hilt
and a blade which, for all its outlaying in the weather,
had not been dimmed by any rust.

"Hound work, of their best," he said, putting it into
his own belt.

"Now," he swung into the saddle once again, "there
is a traders' road here, it swings south to Trevamper.
Though that town may not now stand."

Though it was close to dusk we did not camp at
the Ford. That was too close to the pyre, too full of

memories for my companion. We rode on until he
turned off into a thicket. That was a screen for a place
where rings of stones were set about the ash of old
fires, and some hacked poles made rude shelters.

"Our camp." He stirred the ashes with boot toe.
"Long dead. I think it will be safe to stay."

Once more we dared not light a fire. But this night
the moon was bright and clear. I knew that I must
look upon my talisman for this search. Though I could
not be private, and to let my secret into the keeping
of another was hard. Yet it was necessary to know how
it fared with Elyn.

Thus when we had eaten, I got out the cup and
took away its shielding cloth. Almost I dropped it. For
that tarnishing cloud, which had been only a mist, had
now deepened about the stem and lower part of the
bowl into a black stain. So I knew that ill had come
upon Elyn. But, though he was in grave danger he
still lived, and would until the cup was entirely black.

"What is it?"

I wished I did not need to answer, but there was
no way of escaping Jervon's interest.

"This warns of my brother's danger. Before it was
only a clouding, nowsee this black? As it rises up
the cup, so his danger grows. If the cup be all black,
he is dead."

"A third of the way," he returned. "Have you any
way of learning what this danger may be?"

"Nonesave it is not the chance of warbut bound
up in the ways of power. He is caught in some ensor-
celment."

"The Dalesmen do not take to sorcery save as the
Wise Women practice it. And the Hounds have their
own kind, not rooted in our beliefs at all. Sothe Old
Ones-"

But I could not think of any way Elyn could so have
aroused some ancient evil. He had never had any in-
terest in such matters. I tried to recall my far-seeing
of that bedchamber where the girl had slept while my
brother wrenched and levered at bars across a shut-
tered window.

"Can you far-see?" Jervon asked.

"Not here. I have not the proper things" Then I
wondered.

I had been so schooled by Aufrica that instinctively
I thought of all such seeking in patterns she set. But
she had always insisted that I had inheritances of
stronger powers.

The tie between Elyn and me was close; we were
born at one birth; when we looked upon each other
we might be looking into a mirror. Therefore

"Give me the water bottle!"

Jervon passed it over. I took out one of the strips
of soft-beaten inner bark which I carried in my pouch
for wounds. Into this I rubbed pinches of three of
the herbs Aufrica had supplied and then wet it with
water from the bottle, washing my hands carefully with
the mixture.

Having so purified myself, I took up the cup. Though
it held no liquid, I looked into it as I had into the
shell basin, striving to shut out of my mind all save
Elyn, thus search out where he was and what he did.

Suddenly it was as if I were in the cup, for about
me was a silver-white light. Only for a moment did
that bedazzle me. Then I was able to see more clearly.
Around me stood tall pillars like the trunks of forest
trees, save that these were smooth and polished, their
slimness unbroken by any branch. Nor did they sup-
port any roof; overhead was nothing but moon and
star-hung sky.

These pillars stood not in rows, but rather in a spiral
so that one entering among them would walk around
and around, in and in, to whatever lay at their heart.
At that moment I knew a vast fear, like none I had
known before, so I could not even think. For what
waited at the heart of that spiral was something so far
from the way of life I knew that it was utter terror.

Thenthat changed. It was as if it suddenly put
on a mask or shield. The terror was cut off, and in its
placea drawinga sensation of wonder, of the need
to see the source of that wonder. Yet because I had

earlier felt that overwhelming aura of what really lurked
there I was repelled and not ensorceled.

Out into the open came a figure, mailed, helmed,
with sword at hip, riding a war steed. He dismounted,
dropping the reins as if he cared not now whether it
should wander or not. And he moved toward the open-
ing of the spiral as if he were called.

I tried to cry out, to force myself between Elyn
and that gateway to a darkness far worse than death.
But I could not move. My brother approached the
beginning of the spiral

"Elys!" Hands on my shoulders, shaking me. I sat
hunched over the cupthe empty cup The moon
was light but there were no pillars, no spiral.

I raised the cup hurriedly to eye level, more than
half fearing that that black shadow would have crept
higher. For if Elyn was in that pillared wayhow could
he be saved? But the stain was no greater than it had
been before.

"What did you see?" Jervon demanded. "Youit was
as if you looked upon some great horror and you cried
upon your brother's name as if you would pull him
out of death's hold by voice alone."

Jervon knew more of this land than I; surely he
would know of the spiraled waythe quickest path!
For such a thing of menace would be noted to Dales-
men.

"Listen." As I covered the cup to stow it away, I
told him of that earlier visionmy brother laboring to
open the window, then of this later one. "Where lies
such a place?"

"Not in Trevamper, or near it," he returned prompt-
ly. "But the barred windowsomewheresometime I
have heard of that." He rubbed his forehead as if so
to summon back a wisp of memory.

"Windowbarred window! Yesthe Keep of Coomb
Frome! There is an old legend, that from one window
in the center tower men can see the far hills. And if
they do this at some one hourthey take horse and
rideand from that riding they do not return. Nor can
those who seek them thereafter ever find them again.

So Coomb Frome was no longer a lord's house but kept
only as a garrison and the window in the tower was
close shut. But that all happened in my grandfather's
time."

"It could be that Coomb Frome is once more a
lord's hold. Did you not say my brother was hand-
fasted? By what I have seen he is now wed. Yet he
left his lady and went forth to search for that! I
ride to Coomb Frome!"

So we came to that Keep, but our reception there
Was a surprise. Though when I was first hailed by out-
post men as Lord Elyn I did not deny it. It was in
my mind to learn what I could of my brother before
I asked questions. So I said I had been on scout and
they would hear my report in due time. Perhaps a
lame explanation, yet they did not protest it, only
seemed glad to have me back.

Nor did Jervon deny my story. He looked to me
with a question in his eyes, and then away, as if he
were willing to accept the role I assumed. I pretended
a great desire to see my lady wife, for I had been
right, Elyn was wedded to the Lady Brunissende.

Men smiled at that, and some laughed a little and
whispered one to the other. I could guess they passed
such jests as men do when the newlywed are in their
company. Only the eldest, a man of some rank, said
my lady had taken hard my going forth and had since
kept her chamber. At this I played the role of great
concern and set heel to horse rib in urging for speed.

Thus I came into that same chamber I had seen in
my vision. And the girl of my dream lay still on the
bed, though there was with her now an older woman
who had something of the look of Aufrica. So I judged
she might be of the Wise company. The girl cried
out:

"Elyn!" And started up, running to me, her night-
robe all awry, her eyes puffed with past tears, her
cheeks tracked by new ones. But the woman stared
straight at me; then she raised her hand and made a
sign I knew well, so that before I thought, I answered
it	.

Her eyes Went very wide. But Brunissende was upon
me, her hands reaching for my shoulders, calling upon
my brother's name, demanding to know where I had
been and why I had left her. I put up my hands to
hold her a little off for this welcome I found difficult
to answer.

Then she pulled away, looking into my face wildly,
terror growing in her eyes.

"You areyou are changed! My dear lordwhat have
they done to you?" She began to laugh shrilly and
struck out at me, her nails marking my face before I
could catch her hand, screaming I was not as I had
been.

The woman reached her quickly and, bringing her a
little around, slapped her face. So the screaming broke
abruptly and Brunissende looked from one to the other
of us, rubbing her cheek, yet when she faced me she
shivered.

"You are not Elyn." This time the woman spoke.
Then she recited words which I also knew. But be-
fore she completed that spell, I interrupted.

"I am Elys. Did he never speak of me?"

"ElysElys" Brunissende repeated the name. "But
Elys is his sister! And you are a man with the seem-
ing of my lordwho has come to deceive me evilly."

"I am Elys. If my brother said aught of me, you
also know that I shared his upbringing in part. Sword
and shield-work I learned even as he did in his child-
hood. Though when we were grown we went sepa-
rate ways. However, there was a bond between us, and
when I was warned that he was in peril, I came, even
as he would have come had he heard I walked into
danger."

"Butbut how did you know he was gonelost in
the hills? No messenger has ridden from here. We have
kept it secret lest worse happen if it were known."
Brunissende watched me now with the same side-look
I had seen in other women. And I thought that, mar-
riage-sister though she be, the time might well come
when she would like my room rather than my com-
pany. But if she were Elyn's choice then she had my

favor, save that now my first duty lay not with her
but with my missing brother.

But her woman drew a step closer to me, all the
time studying my face as if I bore there in bright paint
some sign of who or what I truly was.

"It is the truth, my lady," she said slowly. "The Lord
Elyn has said little save that his father and mother were
dead, and he had a sister who dwelt among the people
who sheltered them from childhood. HoweverI be-
lieve now that he might have said far more and yet
not told all." Again she made a certain sign and I an-
swered it with deliberation, but added somewhat that
she might know I was of no low level in her learn-
ing. Then she nodded as one come to the solving of
a problem.

"The far-seeing it must have been then, my lady.
So you must also know where he now ventures"

"It is sorcery of the Old Ones." I addressed her
rather than Brunissende. "And of the Black not the
White. It began with this-"

I pushed past the Lady Brunissende who still looked
at me with a lack of full understanding to that window
at which I had seen my brother labor with bars and
bolts long rusted into place. It was close shut now as
if he had never worked upon it. But when I laid hand
to the lower bar I heard a choked cry and turned my
head.

The Lady Brunissende cowered against the bed, both
hands to her mouth, with nothing but witless terror
in her eyes. She gave another muffled cry and swooned
back into the tumbled covers.

5

The Curse of Ingaret

THE WISE WOMAN Went to her quickly, then
looked to me again.

"It is but a swoon, and she is better not hearing what
you would say, for she is frightened of such things
the learning."

"Yet you serve her."

"Ah, but I am her foster mother and she does not
reckon what I do. But from her childhood she has
feared the Curse, for it has lain heavy on her House."

"The Curse?"

"What lies beyond thatwaiting" She pointed to
the window.

"Tell me, for I am not one who swoons. But, first;
Wise Woman, what is your name?"

She smiled and I smiled in return at what we both
knew, that she had one name for the world and one
for the inner life.

"No, you are not one unable to bear the worst which
may be told or shown you. As for my namehere I am
Dame WirthaI am also Ulrica"

"Dame?" For the first tune I noted she did not Wear
the rich-colored robes of a Lord's household, but rather
gray, and that the wimple of one of the abbeys covered
all but her face. Yet I had heard that the Dames and the
Old Knowledge did not meet. Also that those of the
abbeys did not go beyond their enclosures after their
final vows were taken.

"Dame," she repeated. "War upsets all. The House
of Kantha Twice Born was overrun by the Hounds this
year past. And since I escaped I came to Brunissende
as I took vows only after she was handfasted. Also
Kantha Twice Born had the Old Learning herself in
her time and her daughters are of a different thought

than those of other abbeys. But we have shared names
or do you have another?"

I shook my head. There was something of Aufrica
in this Dame, but more which was herself alone. And
I knew I could trust her.

"I was Blessed at my first naming, given after the
custom of my mother's people"

"The Witches of Estcarp! Would you had now what
they can control, for your need will be great if you
think to do what brought you here."

"Tell me of this Curse, for it must be that which
has taken Elyn."

"There is a record that the First of the House of
Ingaret, from whom my lady is descended, had a taste
for strange knowledge, yet not the patience nor the
discipline  to  follow  the known  roads.   Therefore  he
took risks such as no prudent men would think on.

"By his lone he went into the places of the Old
Ones and from such a journey he brought back a wife.
It was in this very chamber that they lay together,
but they had no children and the lord began to fret
for he would have a son to follow him. He took steps
to prove that the fault was not hissiring a son and
then a daughter on women he kept in secret. Could
any man be greater fool than to think he could hide
such matters?

"He came hither one night to take his pleasure with
his lady wife and found her sitting in a great chair,
like that in which he sat when he gave justice in the
hall. Before her on stools sat the women he had used
to beget the babes, and they were as if dazed, staring
straight before them, while on their knees rested their
children.

"When he faced his lady, blustering, demanding to
know what she did and why, she smiled at him very
sweetly, and said that she but saw to his comfort that
he might not have to journey forth in night and ill
weather to seek those to satisfy his bodyshe had
brought them under his roof.

"Then she arose and he found he could not move.
She put off the fine robes he had given her, and the

jewels he had set upon her, all these she tossed to
the floor. Straightaway they became torn and tattered
rags, broken base metal and glass. Then, with her body
bare and beautiful in the moonlight, she walked to
this very window and drew herself up on the sill.

"Thereupon she turned to look once more on In-
garet and she said words which down the years have
never been forgot:

"'You shall desire, you shall seek, and in the seek-
ing you shall be lost. What you had you threw away,
and it shall call through the years to others, and they
shall also seek, but that seeking shall avail no one.'

"Then she turned and leaped through the window.
But when the Lord Ingaret, released from the spell
which had held him, raced to look downbelow there
was nothing. It was as if her leap had carried her into
another world.

"He gathered together then his chief men and he
acknowledged on a raised war-shield the boy as his
son, gave a daughter's necklet to the girl. Of their
mothersafter that night they were ever maze-minded
and did not live long. But the lord did not wed again.
In the tenth year following he rose at night and rode
out of Coomb Frome, nor was he seen again.

"Through the years other men, some lords, some
heirs, some husbands of heiresses, all close to the rule
of Coomb Frome, looked from this window at full
moon, and then rode outto be seen no more. Until
the window was tight-barred and the family would
come no more to this Keep. So that in the latter days
none vanished sountil your brother."

"If it had been many yearsthen perhaps this which
waits is the greater hungered. You have the needful
for far-seeing?"

"You would try that here? The Dark Powers must
have potent rooting within this very room."

Her warning was apt. I knew what I attempted would
be highly dangerous. Yet it was needful.

"Within the moon-star" I suggested.

She nodded, then hurried into an inner chamber. I
turned to the saddlebags I had carried with me and

brought out the cup. Almost I feared to drop its wrap-
pings lest I see it black. But, although the dark tide
had grown higher on the bright silver, yet there was
the space of two fingers' breadth untouched at the
top. Seeing that I had hope.

The Dame came forth with a wide basket in which
were small jars and bottles. First she took up a finger
of white chalk and, stooping, she drew, in sharp, sure
lines, the five-point star on the floor in line with that
barred window. At each point she set a white candle.

That done she looked upon the cup I held. And
she drew a startled breath.

"Dragon scalewhere got you such a thing of power,
Lady?"

"It was fashioned by and for my mother before my
birth. From it I was named, as was Elyn, from it we
drank farewell, so that it now bears the stain of his
danger."

"Power indeed had your mother, Lady, to bring such
as that into being. I have heard that it could be done,
but the price is high"

"One she paid without question." And I knew pride
as I answered.

"Yes, for only one of courage could do so. You are
ready? I have given you such protection as I know."

"I am ready."

I waited until she poured within the cup a blend
of liquids from two of her bottles. Then I stepped
within the star while she lit the candles. As they burned
brightly, I heard her croon the Summons. But her
voice was very faint and far away, as if she were not
almost within arm's-length but across a dale ridge.

But my eyes were on the interior of the cup where
the liquid began to bubble. A mist from it filled my
nostrils, though I did not turn my head aside. The
mist drifted away and the liquid was a still mirror.

It was as if I were suspended in air, perhaps on
wings. Below me was the spiral of the pillars. The
curve of it wound around and around to a center heart.
And in that heart were people. They stood so still
unbreathing. Not people then, but images, so finely

wrought they seemed alive. They, too, were in a spiral,
one very near the heart, the others curling outward.
And the last in that line

Elyn!

As I recognized him, something knew me, or at least
that I spied upon it. Not anger, no, rather contempt,
amusement, scorn that so small and weak a thing as
I Would trouble it. Yet it was also

I exerted my will, was back again among the steadily
burning candles.

"You saw him?"

"Yes. Also I know where to find him. And that must
be done swiftly."

"Steelweaponswill not save him."

"Be sure I know that. Yet before she has never taken
one tied to such as me. She has grown sure of her-
self, very sure, and that may work against her."

Two things only, and small, but in my favor. Cer-
tainly no missing lord of Coomb Frome had before
been sought by a Wise Woman blood-tied to him. Yet
the time was so short. If Elyn stayed too long in that
web he would be as those others, an image, not a man.

"There is a way privately from this Keep?" I asked.

"Yes. You would go at once?"

"I have no choice."

She gave me things from her own store, two amu-
lets, herbs. Then she took me by a hidden way be-
tween the walls, made for escape should the tower be
besieged.

And she had her own serving maid bring a horse.
Thus I rode out at dawning, armed and mounted,
pulled by the thin thread my far-seeing had spun. How
far I must go I had no idea, so that I kept the horse
to the best pace I could since time was now my enemy.
I slipped past patrols, mainly by using the craft of a
Wise Woman to distort their sight of me. At last I
was in the wild country beyond which was a maze of
sharp-cut ravines and thick brush, so that I had to dis-
mount many times and find a way by breaking or sword-
slashing a path.

After one such bout of labor I stood, my hand on

the saddle horn, resting before I pulled up again on
the blowing horse. Then I knew I was being followed.

That such brush might conceal outlaws I was aware.
Or even those from the Keep, mystified by their
lord's seeming return and new disappearance, come to
track me. Any interference might be fatal to Elyn.

At least in such broken country I could find cover
from which to watch my back trail and decide what
to do. Sword in hand, I urged my horse within a
screen of brush so thick that even autumn loss of leaves
did not make it transparent. There I waited.

Whoever came was a master at woodcraft. And I
thought of how my brother had ridden with those
who struck hard behind enemy lines. But he who ad-
vanced so silent-footed, whom I might not have seen
had he not inadvertently startled a bird, was Jervon.

Jervon, whom I had in the main forgotten since I
had arrived at the Keep. But why? He should be mak-
ing his own plans to join his lord.

I stepped from behind my screen.

"What do you on this road, swordsman?"

"Road?" His face was shadowed by his helm but I
saw his eyebrows tilt upward. So did he look when
he was amused. Though amusement had not come of-
ten during the days we had been together. "I would
not call this wilderness a road, but perchance my eyes
have been deceived. As for what I do here, well, did
I not earlier say that one does not ride alone when
company is offerednot in these days?"

"You cannot go with me!" My voice was a little high
as I answered. For I sensed the stubbornness in him.
And the road I followed was to such a battle as per-
haps he could not imagine, and in which he would be
enemy instead of friend.

"Very well. Ride on, my lady" He agreed so read-
ily that my anger sparked.

"And have you trail behind? I tell you, Jervon, this

is no place for you. What I do is the art of the Wise

Women. And I must also face a curse of the  Old

Onesone strong enough still to man-slay." I owed

him the truth, for in no other way might I convince
him that I was right.

But his expression did not change. "Have I not
known this, or much of it, from the beginning? Go to
war with your spells, but this is still debatable ground
and there are human wolves as well as those strange
menaces you have better knowledge of. What if you
are attacked with steel and bolt before you reach your
goal, or while you must keep your mind and strength
for your sorcery?"

"You owe me no oath service. In fact you already
have a lord. Seek him out as if your duty."

"No oath did I give you, Lady Elys. But I took oath
to myself. I stand at your back while you ride this way.
And do not look to cast some spell on me to bring my
will to naught. The Dame at the Keep gave me this."

He reached within the throat of his mail shirt and
drew forth a pendant of moon-silver wrought into a
looped cross, and I knew he was right. Unless I ex-
pended on him strength I would need later, I could
not overcome the protection that carried. But it was
a shield for him where we went. Though I wondered
at the Dame sending after me anyone unlearned in
any Wise Craft.

"So be it," I surrendered. "But this I lay upon you
if you feel aughtany compulsionsay so at once.
There are spells to turn friends into enemies and open
gates to great peril."

"That I agree to."

Thus I did not ride alone for the rest of the day.
And at nightfall, which came early at that season, we
halted on a ridge top where there were two great
spires of rock standing. Between them we dismounted.

"You know where you go?" Jervon had traveled in
silence most of the afternoon. Were it not for the
sound of his passage behind me from time to time, I
might well have forgotten I had a trail companion.

"I am drawn." Though I did not explain farther. Now
I was too much aware of something in this country
before us, a troubling, an uneasiness, as if something
which usually slumbered deep now stirred. And I was

well aware, that learned as I was, I certainly could not
provide an equal match for such as the Old Ones.

"Are we yet near or far?" he asked.

"Nearwe must be near." For so I read that trou-
bling. "Which meansyou must remain here."

"Remember what I said." His hand was on the loop
cross. "I follow where you lead."

"But in this country you need not fear any human,"
I began, then read in his eyes that no word of mine
would move him. Short of attacking him with sword,
or spell, I had no chance at staying him. Though I
wondered at bis stubbornness, for which I could see
no reason.

"You face a peril you cannot understand." I put into
that warning all the force I could muster. "We deal
now not with those who fight with steel and strength
of arm, but with other weapons you cannot dream of"

"Lady, since I saw what the weapons of the Hounds
did to Dorn, I keep an open mind concerning all and
any arms." Again there seemed to be a quirk of humor
in his speech. "Also, since that day I have been, in a
sense, living on time not mine, since by rights I should
have died with those I loved and who made up my
world. Thus I do not wager my lifefor that I feel
I no longer own. And there is in me a great desire to
see how you wage war with these unheard-of strengths
and unknown arms you speak of so knowingly. If we
are closelet us to the battlefield then!"

There was so much decision in his words that I could
not find any to answer him. But went to look down-
slope before us, seeking the safest path, for we were
about to descend into a country which stretched wide
and unusually dark, even though twilight still lay along
the ridges.

What I saw Was surely one of the Old Roads, or
rather a trail, and that ran in the right direction so we
could follow it. It was a narrow way, suffering us only
at intervals to ride abreast. And it led into a woodland,
wandering back and forth between trees with trunks
so huge in girth that they must have been centuries
growing.

Very still was this wood, only now and then the sigh
of falling leaves. But never the cry of a night bird,
nor rustle of ground animal such as was normal. And
always the feeling of something awakening slowly.

"We are waited" Jervon's voice was low, yet it
was almost like a shout in my ears. "We are watched"

So he was sensitive enough to feel it too. Still, as
yet, there was no arising of menace, no threat in that
stir. Just the sense that our coming registered in some
way.

"As I warned you." For the last time I tried to move
Jervon to withdraw before it was too late. "We deal
with other ways than those of men. Yes, we are watched.
And what will come of that watching I cannot say"

But he did not answer me and I knew that no argu-
ment I could use would move him.

Within the maze of trees the path turned and twisted
so much I lost all sense of direction. But I did not lose
that thread which tied me to what I sought. And I
knew this way would bring me there.

We came at last from under the shadow of the trees
into moonlight. And there I saw what had been in the
far-seeingthe spiral of pillars. They stood gleaming,
ice-cold and frost-white, in the center of an open space.

I heard a sharp exclamation from Jervon and turned
my head, startled. On his breast the loop cross had
sprung to vivid fire, as if it had been fashioned not of
moon-silver but of some huge gem. And I knew that
what powered it had been awakened into the stron-
gest life it could possess by the emanations from the
spiral.

There was warmth also against my knee, and from
the saddlebags came a dim radiance. I fumbled with
the clasp, brought out the cup. There was left only
a thin rim of silver undarkenedso little time had I
left! But even that thread responded, too.

"Stay you here" I gave that order. He might not
obey it, but I must keep my mind on my own actions,
think only of Elyn and what must be done to save
him. Jervon had made his choiceon him be the re-
sult

With the cup in one hand and in the other one of
the things the Dame had pressed upon me, a wand
of rowan peeled clean and then steeped in the potent
juice of its own fruit, being after laid for the nights
of the full moon exposed in a place of Old Power, I
went forward. That was light enough weight, nothing
compared to the sword which dragged at my hip. Yet
I did not free myself of that, for it was wrought of
metal which my mother and father had sought in strange
places, so that in its way it was a talisman.

Thus with wand and cup, the knowledge that I alone
could face what lay there, I stepped past the first pil-
lar and began the winding path it marked.

6

Field of Stone

THERE WAS a drawing at first, as if a current
pulled at me, urging me on. Then came a sharp re-
versal. That which lurked here must have sensed that
I came not bemused and ready as had its other vic-
tims. A pause, while I advanced steadily, cup and wand
held as sword and shield ready for battle. Then

What I had braced myself to meet from the begin-
ning struck hard. It was like a blow, with force enough
to stagger me. Yet it neither drove me to my knees
nor into retreat. I had to fight as one might fight fac-
ing a buffeting storm wind.

Where I had gone easily and steadily before, now I
wavered in spite of all my efforts, from side to side,
winning only inches where I had taken strides. How-
ever, I schooled myself to think only of what I must
do, put aside all uneasiness. For the least break which
fear might make in my guard would leave me defense-
less.

I held to one warming spark of hope. What I faced
here was strong, yes, stronger than anything Aufrica

and I had ever thrown skill and energy against, but it
was not spun from the power of an adept. Part of its
strength must be rooted in the fact that for a toll of
years it had not been successfully withstood. Thus the
very fact that I did battle was enough to slightly shake
its belief in what it could and would do.

And I discovered that, though those pillars seemed
to stand well apart from each other with space in be-
tween, there was a force field uniting them. So that
once within the spiral one could not look out any
more than one could through a wall. Also

Almost I had been captured in the simplest of traps.
I rated myself for my momentary inattention. I had
been moving in a pattern, my attention so on the fact
that I must keep moving that I was unaware my steps
fitted the purposes of another, not my own. Straight-
away I sought to break the lulling spell, stepping long,
short, from side to side, even giving a small hop now
and then, anything to keep from what might hypno-
tize mind and body.

I prepared for a new attack. Since that which awaited
me had tried two ways, and both had failed, the third
would be a greater threat.

The clear moonlight was gone. There was light, but
it streamed from the pillars, as if each were the flame
of some giant candle. That light was faintly green,
giving an unpleasant look to the flesh of my hands, as
if I were tainted with some foul disease.

But the wand and that section of the cup still un-
clouded were like twin torches in return, burning now
with the blue of those safe candles which one uses in
defensive spells.

Once more the assault began, and this time it was
through sight. Things coiled, and glided, peered from
between the flames of the pillars, showing faces and
forms so foul as to be only of the Dark. My defense
was not to be tempted to lift or turn my eyes from
cup or wand.

To sight was added sound. There were voices I
knew, which cried aloud to me, sometimes with pleas,
sometimes sharp warnings. Having so beset sight and

hearing, the power in command here tried once more
to engulf me in the pattern of its weaving. Thus my
fight grew so that I was as a beleaguered swordsman
facing many foes at once, striving to keep them all
in play.

But my way was on and I kept to it.

Suddenly all sound, sight, pressure ceased. This was
withdrawal, not victory. The ruler of this place was
concentrating forces, waiting for me to reach the heart
of the spiral before loosing on me full power. I took
advantage of that release to push ahead faster.

I came into the heart of that net which had been
woven, or least put to the use of, she who had cursed
the Lords of Coomb Frome. And I moved into com-
pany. Men stood there, their faces all turned to the
center of the circle. Twelve of them I counted and
the last was Elyn!

In none of them was the spark of life. They were
like statues so perfectly fashioned that they needed
only breath and warmth to make them men, but both
they lacked. And all were bound by what they looked
upon.

There was a circular block raised in the center and
on it-
Mist thickened, became a formthat of a woman,
unclothed, beautiful. She raised her arms and tossed
high the wealth of her hair which was like a cloak,
but did not lie about her, rather rose in weaving ten-
drils, as if it had life of its own. Silver-white as moon-
shine was her body, silver hair her hair, only her eyes
were dark and seemed to have no whites, but were
like small pits far back in which something watched
the world with no good will.

She was perfect, she was beautiful, and there was
that in her, I recognized, to draw anything male to her.
It was as if the full essence of the female was distilled
and here given form and Me.

Some she did not drawbut repelled! For all which
makes one woman suspicious, or jealous, or brings her
to hate another, was also so distilled and brought to
the highest. And I do not think it was until that mo-

ment that she realized I was not what I outwardly
appeared.

Her realization was followed by a blast of hate. But
for that I was prepared, raising cup and wand before
me swiftly. Her hair writhed wildly, reaching for me
as if each strand fought to wreath itself noose-wise about
my throat.

Thenshe laughed.

There was scorn in that laughter. It was such as a
queen might utter were the lowliest of her work-
maids to challenge her power. So confident was she.

Her hands went to that flowing hair, and she broke
away threads of it. As she held them they glittered
even brighter, taking on the semblance of burnished
metal. These she rolled and spun in her fingers to
make a cord.

But I did not wait idly for her attack. What magic
she was about to use I had heard of. It had a begin-
ning as a love charmand as such it might be con-
sidered relatively harmless. But the other face of love
is hate, and in hate this could kill.

So I sang, not aloud, but in my head. And, as I
watched her, my chant followed each and every turn
and twist of her silver-bright fingers, bringing so a
counter to what she did, as if I too wove a twin, though
invisible, to her effort.

I could guess that what she did was far more potent
than the charm I had knowledge of, she being who
she was. But that she used a spell I could identify was
a small tip of scales in my favor. I had come expecting
the skill of a close-to-adept; I was faced with some-
thing known to every Wise Woman. Of course this
might be only the first of many spells, which would
grow in complexity and power as our struggle con-
tinued.

Now she had her loop, but she did not yet cast it,
rather she passed it from hand to hand, those dark
caverns of eyes ever upon me. I noted something else,
that aura of the female, the sexual impact she had used
as a weapon, was fading.

Her body was no longer of great and compelling

beauty, her limbs lengthened, grew thin and spare,
her breasts flattened to her ribs, her face was a mask
of bone covered thinly with skin. Only her hair re-
mained the same.

But her lips stretched in a scornful smile. And for
the first time she struck at me with words. Though
whether she spoke them aloud or from mind to mind
I did not know.

"Witch onelook at me and see yourself. This is
how you look to others!"

If she thought to catch me through vanity Had
she so poor an idea of human women that she be-
lieved such a small assault would win her any even
temporary victory?

Her words meant nothing. It was the noose to which
I must pay attention.

"What man follows such as you" Her taunting
stopped. Her head went up, her eyes no longer strove
to hold mine, even her hands were still, the noose of
hair hanging limply from one. Her attitude was one
of listening. Yet I could hear nothing.

Once more a change came over her, beauty flowed
back to round her body, make her the idealized image
of what any man would joyfully claim as a bed-fellow.
Again she laughed.

"Witch, I have underrated you. It seems you do
have one willing to follow where you led. But what a
pityfrom a beggar even his bowl shall be taken.
Watch, Witch, and see how works the power of" Then
she shook her head and my heart warmed. For I real-
ized how nearly she had been off guard, almost she
had said her name. And, if she had uttered that, she
would have truly lost. It had been so long since she
had faced any kind of opposition that she was care-
less. Therefore I must be ever alert, ready to take ad-
vantage of any such slip.

Turn and look, Witch," she urged. "See who comes
now at my calling, as did all of these fools!"

I did not need to do so, nor would I lower my
guard. If Jervon had come, then he must take the con-
sequences. I could not let myself be shaken in any

way from the battle between the silver woman and
me.

I heard rather than saw him move into place beside
me. Then his hand came into my line of vision and I
saw he had drawn his sword, was holding it point out
to the woman.

She began to sing, a sweet beguiling. And she held
out her hands to him, though she had not dropped
the noose. And in her, woman that I was, I could see
all the enticement my sex might ever hold for a man,
promising him every delight of body.

Jervon moved forward.

Nor could I lay any blame on him, for this was
sorcery which even the blazing loop cross at his throat
could not avert. It was too distilled, too potent

And that potency awakened in me the same anger
which I had felt before, as if the silver woman threat-
ened all I could ever hold dear. Still I was a Wise
Woman and to such the body and emotions must ever
be controlled by the mind.

She was speaking, a flow of crooning, compelling
wordsaimed at Jervon. I saw the sword waver, the
point sink to the ground. His other hand went to paw
at the loop cross, pull at it as if he would break the
chain and throw that talisman from him. But also I
sensed something else.

Strong was her spell, yes. But he was fighting it.
Not in fear, as the others might have fought when they
came to realize the deadly enticement they faced, but
because he knew in some part of him that this was
not truly his desire.

How this came to me I do not know, perhaps be-
cause it struck at her also. Her arms reached, she was
desire incarnatewaiting for him alone. His hand was
on the loop cross, no longer pulling at it, no, rather
clutching as if that gave him safe anchorage in the
midst of a storm.

What I had been waiting for happened; the noose
spun out through the air. But not aimed for meat
Jervon, as if his stubborn refusal to surrender had again
shaken her from careful planning.

I was waiting, the tip of the wand catching into that
loop. Straightaway it curled itself around the peeled
branch as it would have around flesh had it touched.
But as swiftly it released that hold, made to slip down
to my hand.

I shook the wand, saw those coils loosen, and the
noose was sent flying back toward her who had sent
it. It landed at the foot of the block on which she stood
and humped into life like a serpent, began to crawl
back again toward us. But the silver woman was al-
ready weaving another such from her hair, plaiting it
with flying fingers this time, not leisurely as she had
before.

Jervon only stood, his hand still on the hilt of his
sword which now rested point against the pavement,
the other clasped over the loop cross. I knew that he
could not defend himself more than he did at present,
resisting her spell. I would have to meet her attacks
alone. But at greater disadvantage than before for she
could take Jervon unless I divided my defense.

Dared I do that? I wavered, and then was angered
by my own wavering. In this I had no choice. If Jer-
von was to fall to her sorcery, that I must allow, keep-
ing single-minded on the last struggle between the
two of us.

Once more she had a noose, but this time she did
not fling it at either of us, rather dropped it lightly
to the pavement where, as its fellow, it began to wrig-
gle toward us. She was smiling again, already weaving
a third while the two others humped and crawled.

Yes, this was such an attack as might win for her
might But I clung to the doubt. I thrust the cup
into the fore of my belt, and with my left hand drew
the sword my father had forged from the lumps of
ancient metal.

It caught no reflection from the light around us. The
whole of the blade was dark, thickly dark as a night
without moon or stars. Never had I seen it so before;
always it had been as any other weapon. But it might
now have been forged from shadows.

I laid it on the pavement before me, edge toward

the creeping nooses. What protection it might give I
did not know. There are powers which can be de-
feated by metals, even other powers which feed upon
them. But this was strangely wrought and I had belief
in the judgment of my parents who had valued it so
highly.

Once more I took the cup into my hand, waited
with it and the wand. But I had to divide my atten-
tion now between the actions of the woman and the
crawling noosesthree of themfor she had finished
that and was busy with a fourth.

One of the nooses reached close to the blade I had
laid down. It coiled back upon itself, as might a ser-
pent preparing to strike, one end raised from the
ground, darting back and forth as if it were before a
wall it could not pierce or climb. For the moment
I had the relief of knowing I had another defense.

To my surprise Jervon moved, heavily and jerkily
as one who fights the dead weight of his own body,
but he brought up his sword, slashed at the coiled
noose. It struck back at his blade, strove to wind about
it, yet fell away. So steel was also a defense.

Those who stood statue-still about us were mainly
armed, but their blades were all sheathed. Perhaps they
had been so ensorceled that they had not been aware
that they must fight for freedom.

The silver woman hissed like a great enraged cat.
She hurled her fourth noose at me and once more the
wand caught it, threw it back. But at that moment I
knew that I must not leave her the initiative.

I poised the wand as I might a hunting spear, hurled
it straight for her breast. She gave a loud keening cry
and swept her hair out as a shield.

I saw the wand thrust deep into that and the strands

melted back and away. But she had deflected the wand

and it clattered down against the block on which she

stood and broke. Yet half her hair was shriveled away.

Quickly I caught up the sword at my feet. And Jer-
von, still moving as if leaden weights were fastened
to his arms, was striking awkwardly at the remaining

nooses. But he moved so slowly they could well take
him first.

There was no time to consider Jervon. I must think
only of what was to be done here and now. I leaped
over the crawling nooses, straight for that block on
which she stood tearing at her hair, not waiting to
weave cords but throwing handfuls of it at us both,
it flowing in cloudy masses through the air.

I waved the sword back and forth before me to
clear that menace. Then I stood before her. Her face
was no longer beautiful. Once more she showed a skull
countenance. Her lips were drawn back against her
teeth; her hands, ceasing to comb at her hair, were
outstretched. Before my eyes they became huge tal-
ons reaching to rend and tear.

I readied the sword, thrusting up and in. And met
nothing. Yet still she stood there ready to launch her-
self at my throat. Again I thrust. Then I knewwhat
I saw was illusion; the core of it lay elsewhere. And
I must find that or lose the battle entirely.

There was a thin cry. Jervon had slashed two nooses,
the third had fastened on his foot, was weaving up
his body. But I had no time I must find the witch
core.

That it lay somewhere in this spiral heart I could
not doubt. She could not have manifested so strongly
otherwise.

The woman did not move from where she stood,
though her claw hands were still outstretched, her head
turned at what seemed an impossible angle on her
shoulders so she could follow me with those eyes which
were not eyes. With her mouth pulled into a furious
snarl, she lost more and more of her human aspect, her
rage mirrored in her body.

I realized now that she was tied to the block and
could do no more than her hair tricks and the like.
As long as I was alert for such moves, I was free to
seek that which must be found if she were to be wholly
destroyed or driven away.

Passing among those silent figures of her victims I
reached the pillars about that core. I moved along them

slowly, checking ever upon the movements of the en-
emy.

She raised her hand to her face, those claws melted
again into fingers, and she cupped them together as
if she sheltered some precious thing. Then she brought
her hands to her mouth, blew gently into them as if
she had need for warmth.

But I knew that what she so blew Was a new way
of attack, though I could not guess its manner. Sud-
denly she spread her hands wide, and crouched be-
tween them was a small thing the like of which I had
never seen before, save I knew it to be evil.

Wings which were flaps of mottled skin it had, and
a horned head, and a sharply pointed snout. It was as
red as a leaping fire spark. And like the menace of
wind-driven flame, it was as she tossed it aloft. I ex-
pected it to strike at me, but rather it winged up and
up, vanishing quickly.

I did not know from which direction it might re-
turn, or when. Yet I dared not linger to wait on it, I
must continue my search. So I kept on from pillar
to pillar. And ever she watched me, her teeth like
fangs, her grin that of death itself.

Since the wand was shattered, I pinned my hopes
on the cup. A thing of power, it must react to power
when it neared the source which fed the apparition
of the woman. Yet the small silver portion grew no
brighter.

By then I had made the circuit of the pillars. So
the obvious must be true. The source lay under that
block on which she stood. But how to force it up or
off-

I came up behind Jervon. His legs were now netted
by not only the third noose but some of the flying hair
she had sent against us. None rose high up his body
and his sword arm was still free. It would take the
two of usI knew that now. But could hewould he
aid?

I passed my black sword up and about him. The nets
shriveled into nothingness. He turned his head. His

face was set, white, with some of the rigid look of
those others. But his eyes were alive.

"You must helpwith that stone"

I laid the sword tip to his shoulder. He shuddered,
moved stiffly.

Yet all the time I remembered that winged scarlet
thing she had sent flying. Was it poised for attack
somewhere over our heads, or was it a messenger to
summon aid for her?

Jervon took one ponderous step and then another
at my urging. He moved so slowly it was as if stone
itself obeyed my wishes. I put the cup again into my
belt, caught his wrist, and set the point of his sword
at the jointure of stone and pavement.

An arm with misshapen talons raked inches short of
his face, yet something, perhaps the loop cross, kept
him safe. I went to set my sword point even with his
and I cried outhoping with all my might he could
do as I ordered:

"Heave!"

Both hands I had set about the hilt of the sword.
And at that moment came the scarlet flying thing, aim-
ing for my eyes. I jerked my head, but by the favor
of those powers I had long served, I did not lose my

grip-
Like a brand of fire along my cheek was that sting-
ing blow. I could hear a hissing whine. But all that mat-
tered, all that must matter was the stone. And it was
moving!

I put forth all my strength, at the same time crying
again:

"Jervon, heave!"

And that stone, under the urging of our blades, arose
up, though the flying thing darted about our heads
and I heard Jervon cry out, saw him stagger back. But
we had done itthe stone was up, poised on one edge
for an instant, then crashed over and away.

7

Silver Bright

SHE WHO HAD menaced us from the block was
gone. But the red flyer darted again at my eyes in
such a fury of attack that I stumbled away half-blinded.
In my hand was still the sword, and I thrust with it
down into whatever we might have uncovered. There
was a low wail. The red thing vanished.

I stood at the edge of a small pit. There had been a
casket there in the hollow but the point of the sword
had pierced it, cleaving the metal as if it were no more
than soft earth. From that now spread a melting so
that the riven casket lost shape, became a mass, which
in turn sank into the ground on which it lay. In mo-
ments nothing was left.

Now the very pavement under my feet began to
crack and crumble in turn, becoming rubble. First
around the edges of the pit, and then, that erosion
spreading, in lapping waves, as if all the untold years
that this place had had its existence settled all at once,
a burden of age too heavy to support.

The waves of erosion touched the feet of the first
man. He shivered, moved. Then his armor was rust
red, holding bare bones, until all toppled, to crash in
shards, bone and time-eaten iron together, to the riven
pavement.

So it was with the rest. Dead men, losing the false
semblance of life as time caught up and engulfed them,
to reach to the next and the next.

"Dead!" Jervon said.

I looked around. He had lost that rigid cast of coun-
tenance, was staring about him as if he wakened from
some half-stupor into full consciousness.

"Yes, dead, long dead. As is this trap now."

I pulled my sword from the pit where it had been
standing upright, its point no longer anchored in the

box, but in the dark ground. But that pointit was
eroded, as if it had been thrust into acid. I held but
three-quarters of a weapon. I sheathed it, amazed at
what power must have erupted from the box.

Elyn! Almost I had forgotten him who had brought
me hither.

Swinging from that hole I looked to where my broth-
er stood, one among the other prisoners. He moved,
raised a hand uncertainly to his head, tried to take a
step and tripped over the bones and armor of one of
his less fortunate fellows. I sped to him, my hands
ready to steady him. He was blinking, looking about
as one who wakes out of a dream, to perhaps find not
all of it a dream after all.

"Elyn!" I shook him gently as one shakes awake a
child who had cried out of a nightmare.

He looked at me slowly.

"Elys?" But of my name he made a question, as if
he did not believe I was real.

"Elys," I assured him. And, though I still kept one
hand upon his arm, I held out now the cup.

That dark tarnish was gone. And in the moonlight
the silver was as bright as it had been from the night
it was first wrought. He put out his hand, traced the
rim with one finger.

"Dragon scale silver"

"Yes. It told me that you were in dangerbrought
me here"

With that he looked up and around. The erosion
had spread. Those pillars had lost their eerie light; most
of them had crumbled and fallen away. The power
which had knitted it all together had fled.

"Wherewhere is this place?" Elyn was frowning,
puzzled. And I wondered if he knew at all what had
happened to him.

"This is the heart of Ingaret's Curse. And you were
caught in it"

"Ingaret!" That single name seemed to be enough.
"Brunissendewhere is my lady?"

"Safe in the Keep at Coomb Frome." But there was
an odd feeling in me. It was as if Elyn had taken a

step away from mea step? No, a stridestill my hand
was on him.

"I do not remember" Some of his uncertainty re-
turned.

"That does not matter. You are free."

"We are all free, Lady. But are we like to remain

so?"

Jervon was by me. He still held his unsheathed
sword and he had the watchfulness of one who treads
through enemy territory where each wayside bush may
mask armed surprise.

"The power here is gone." I was sure of that.

"But is it the only power hereabouts? I shall feel
safer when we are to horse and on the back trail."

"Who is this?" Elyn spoke to me.

I thought perhaps some of the mind daze still held
by his curt question, and I made ready answer.

"This is Jervon, Marshal of Haverdale, who has rid-
den with me for your deliverance. It was by his sword
aid that we won this battle with the Curse."

"I give thanks," Elyn said remotely.

I thoughthe is still under the edge of the spell,
his wits are slowed, so I can forgive his bareness of
thanks. Yet his manner chilled me a little.

"Coomb Fromewhere lies it?" At least on that ques-
tion Elyn's voice was alive and eager.

"A day's ride away," Jervon answered.

In that moment I could not have said anything, for
it was as if the struggle with the silver woman had
sustained me against any weariness, but now that that
was past, and Elyn once more free, all fatigue settled
upon me at once, as time had done to crack open this
foul web. I staggered. Instantly there was an arm at
my back, strong as any keep wall, supporting me.

"Let us ride then!" Elyn was already starting away.

"Presently." Jervon's word had the crack of an order.
"Your lady sister has ridden through one day without
rest, battled through the night, to win you free. She
cannot ride now."

Elyn glanced impatiently around, a stubborn look I
knew of old on his face.

"I" he began, and then after a moment's pause, he
nodded. "Well enough."

If he said that grudgingly, I was far too sunk in this
vast weariness to care. Nor was I really aware of how
we came free of the ruins of the spiral. Or of aught,
save a drowsy memory of resting on the ground, with
the soft roll of a cloak beneath my head, my furred
one spread over me, while a firm hand held mine and
a far-off voice urged me to sleep.

I awoke to the tantalizing fragrance of roasting meat,
saw through half-open eyes the dancing flames of a
fire, and near that, on spits of branches, the bodies of
forest fowl, small but of such fine eating that not even
a Dale lord would disdain to find one on his feast
table.

Jervon, his helm laid aside, the ringed-under hood
of that lying back on his shoulders, sat cross-legged,
Watching the roasting birds with a critical eye. Elyn?
I turned my head slowly, but my brother was not to
be seen in the firelight, and I levered myself up, his
name a cry on my lips.

Jervon swung around and came to me quickly.

"Elyn?" I cried again.

"Is safe. He rode out at noontide, being anxious con-
cerning his wife, and doubtless his command."

I had shaken sleep from me now, and there was
that in the tone of his voice which made me uneasy.

"But dangerous countryyou said yourself to ride
alone across it was deep perilwith three of us" I
was babbling, I realized, but there was something here
I could not understand.

"He is a man, full armed. He chose to go. Would
you have had me overpower and bind him into stay-
ing?" Still that note in his voice.

"I do not understand" My confusion grew.

Jervon arose abruptly, half turned from me to face
the fire, yet still I could see the flat plane of his cheek,
the firmness of his chin, that straight line which his
mouth assumed upon occasion.

"Nor do I!" There was heat in his voice now. "Had
any wrought for me as you did for himthen I would

not have left her side. Yet all he pratted of was his
lady! If he thought so much of her, how came he into
the toils of that-?"

"He perhaps cannot remember." I pushed aside the
furred cloak. "Oftentimes ensorcelment has that ef-
fect upon the victim. And once that power set up
its lure he could not have resisted. You remember
surely what spell she cast. Had you not the loop cross
it might so have drawn you."

"Well enough!" But his voice did not lose that heat.
"Perhaps he acted as any man. Save, that from your
brother one does not expect the act of any man. And"
he hesitated as if he chewed upon some words he did
not want to say yet there was that forcing him to the
saying, "Lady, do not expect Oh, what matter it. I
may be seeing drawn swords where all are sheathed.
What say you to food?"

I wanted to know what chafed in his mind, but I
would not force it from him. And hunger was greater
than all now. Eagerly I reached for a spitted bird, blew
upon it and my fingers as I strove to strip the browned
flesh from its small bones.

So long had I slept that it was dawn about us when
we finished that meal. Jervon brought up the single
horse. So Elyn had taken the other! That had not oc-
curred to me. My brother's behavior seemed more
strange as I thought on it.

I did not gainsay Jervon when he insisted that I
ride. But I made up my mind that I would not spend
the whole of this journey in the saddle; like true com-
rades, we would share alike.

However, as we went, my thoughts were well oc-
cupied with Elyn. Not just that he had left us so
any man newly out of a spell might well be so over-
cast in his mind to hold only to one desire and the
need for obtaining it. If Brunissende meant so much
to him, he might see in her the safely he craved. No,
I could not count his leaving as unfeeling, for I had
never been in the grip of a spell.

It was Elyn the boy I began to remember, recalling
all I had once accepted without question. Though why

I had this overshadowing feeling that I was about to
face another testing I could not tell. Save that no one
who had Wise Learning ever puts aside such uneasiness
as without cause.

Elyn had never shown any interest in the Wise Way.
In fact, now that I faced memories squarely and sounded
them for full meaning, he had shunned that. Though
I had had laid on me the vows of silence in many
things, there had been lesser bits of learning he might
well have profited by. Also he had not liked it when I
had shown my arts in his presence.

Oddly enough he had not resented the fact that I
shared his swordplay. He had treated me then more
as a brother, and I had been content But let me speak
of what I might do with Aufrica and he had shied
away. Yet at that last meeting he had allowed the cup
pledge. The first time, to my knowledge, that he had
ever agreed to any spell binding.

We both knew our mother's story, that she had sought
out powers which might prove fatal in order to give
our father a son. She had forged the dragon cupbut
at the last moment she had asked for a daughter also,
gladly paying with her Me.

So we had not been conceived as ordinary children;
magic had played a part in our lives from the begin-
ning. Did Elyn fear because of this?

Though I had been much with him and my father,
yet I had had those other hours of which my father
never spoke. He, too, as I recalled those years now,
had seemed to ignore that side of my life. As if it
were somethinglikelike a deformity!

I drew a deep breath, a whole new conception of
my past opening before me. Had my father and Elyn
felt aversioneven shame But how could they? There
Was my mother What had happened in that land of
Estcarp across the sea which had rift my parents from
their former Me, tossed them into barren Wark?

Shame of the power? Did my father, my brother,
look upon me as one markedor tainted?

"No!" I denied that aloud.

"No what, my lady?"

Startled, I looked at Jervon walking beside me. I
hesitated then. There was a question I longed to ask,
yet shrank from the asking. Then I nerved myself to
it, for by the reply I might perhaps find some solu-
tion to the problem of Elyn.

"Jervon, do you know what I am?" I asked it baldly,
my voice perhaps a little hoarse as I braced myself
for his answer.

"A very gallant ladyand a mistress of powers," he
replied.

"Yes, a Wise Woman." I would not have flattery from
him. "One who deals with the unseen."

"To some good purpose, as you have here. What
troubles you, Lady?"

"I do not believe that all men think as you do, com-
rade. That there is good in being a mistress of powers.
Or if they admit so much at times, they are not al-
ways so charitable. I was bred up to such knowledge,
to me it is life. I cannot imagine being withoutthough
it walls me from others. There are those who always
look askance at me."

"Including Elyn?"

He was quick, too quick. Or perhaps I was stupid
enough to give away my thoughts. But since I had gone
this far, why try to conceal my misgivings farther?

"PerhapsI do not know."

Had I hoped he would deny that? If so, I was dis-
appointed, for after a moment his reply came:

"If that is the way with him, it could explain much.
And having been caught in what he distrustedyes,
he could wish to see the last of all which would re-
mind him"

I reined in the horse. "But it is not so with you?"

Jervon put his hand to sword hilt. "This is my de-
fense, my weapon. It is steel and I can touch it, all
men can see it in my hand. But there are other weap-
ons, as you have so ably proved. Should I fear, or look
sidewise (as you say) upon them because they are not
metal, or perhaps not visible? Learning in the arts of.
war I have, and also, once, some in the ways of peace.
That came to me by study. You have yours by study

also. I may not understand it, but perhaps there is that
in my learning also which would be strange to you.
Why should one learning be less or more than any
other when they are from different sources? You have
healcraft which is your peace art, and what you have
done to lay this Curse is your art of war.

"No, I do not look with fearor aversionon what
you do."

So did he answer the darkest of my thoughts.

But if I must accept that Elyn felt differently, what
lay in days ahead? I could return to that nameless
daleunless early winter sealed it offwhere the Wark
folk stayed. There was nothing to tie me to them save
Aufrica. Yet I had known when I rode forth that her
farewell to me had been lasting. There was no need
for two Wise Women there, and she had done her best
for me. I was now a woman grown and proven in
power. The hatched fledgling cannot be refitted into
the eggshell from which it has broken free.

Coomb Frome? No, I had nothing there either. I
was sure I had read Brunissende right in the short
time I had seen her. She might accept her Dame, but
a Wise Woman close kin to her lordthere would be
more sidewise looks.

But if I went not to the Dale nor to the Keep, where
would I venture? Now I looked about me wonder-
ingly, for it seemed, in that moment of realization, I
was indeed cast adrift and even the land around me
took on a more forbidding cast.

"Do we go on?" Once more Jervon spoke as if he
could read my unhappy thoughts.

"Where else is there to go?" For the first time in our
companying I looked to him for an answer, having
none myself.

"I would say not the Keep!" The decision in that
was sharp and clear. "Or, if you wish, only to make
sure of Elyn's return, to visit only and let that visit
be brief."

I seized upon thatit would give me breathing space,
a time to thinkto plan.

"To Coomb Frome thenin brief."

Though we perforce went slowly, by mid-afternoon
we were sighted by those Elyn had sent to meet us.
So I came a second time to the Keep. I noted also
that, though we were treated with deference by that
party, yet Elyn had not ridden with them.

We reached the Keep long after moonrise and I
was shown into a guest chamber where serving maids
waited with a steaming copper of water to ease the
aches of travel, a bed such as I had never known for
softness. But I had slept far better the night before on
the bare ground in the wilderness, for my thoughts
pricked and pulled at me.

In the morn I arose and the maids brought me a
soft robe such as the Dale ladies wore. But I asked
for my mailed shirt and travel clothes. They were then
in a fluster so I learned that by my Lady Brunissende's
own orders those clothes had been destroyed as too
travel-worn.

Under my urging one of the maids bethought her-
self of other clothing and brought it to me. Man's it
was but new. Whether it had been for my brother,
I knew not. But I wore it together with boots, my
mail, and the sword belt and sheath in which rested
the mutilated weapon which had routed the Curse.

I left my cloak, my saddlebags, and journey wallet
in my room. My brother, they told me, was still with
his ladyand I sent to ask for a meeting.

So I went for the second time into that fated tower
room. Brunissende saw me first and she gasped, put
out her hand to grasp tight Elyn's silken sleeve. For
he wore no armor.

He gazed at me with a growing frown. Then he took
her hand gently from his arm to stride towards me,
his frown heavy as he looked me up and down.

"Why come you here in such guise, Elys? Can you
not understand that to see you so is difficult for Bru-
nissende?"

"To see me so? I have been so all my life, brother.
Or have you forgotten?"

"I have forgotten nothing!" he burst out, and it was
as if he were deliberately feeding his anger, if anger

it was, that he might brace himself to harsh words.
"What was done in Wark is long past. You have to for-
get those rough ways. My dear lady will aid you to
do so."

"Will she now? And I have much to forget, do I,
brother? It would seem you have already forgotten!"

His hand came up; I think he was almost moved to
strike me. And I realized that he feared most of ail-
not me as a Wise Woman, but that I might make plain
to Brunissende the manner of his ensorcelment.

"It is forgotten" He said those words as a warning.

"So be it." I had had no decision to make after all.
It had been made for me, days, seasonslong ago. We
might be of one birth, of one face, but we were other-
wise hardly kin. "I ask nothing of you, Elyn, save a
horse. Since I do not propose to travel afootand that
I think you owe me."

His frown cleared a little. "Where do you go? Back
to those of Wark?"

I shrugged but did not answer. If he wished to be-
lieve that, let him. I was still amazed at the chasm be-
tween us.

"You are wise." Brunissende had crept to his side.
"Men hereabouts still fear the Curse. That you have
had dealings with that power seems fearsome to them."

Elyn stirred. "She broke it for me. Never forget
that, my lady."

She answered nothing to that, only eyed me in such
a way as I knew there could be no friendship between
us.

"The day grows, I will ride." I had no desire to pro-
long this viewing of something already buried in the
past.

He gave me the best mount in his stable, ordered
out also a pack horse and had it loaded with gear. I
did not deny him this attempt to salve his conscience.
All the time I saw the looks of his men who, seeing
us so like together, must have longed for the mys-
tery to be explained.

After I had mounted I looked down at him. I did
not want to wish him ill. He lived by his nature, I

mine. Instead I made a sign to summon fortune and
blessing to him. And saw his mouth tighten as if he
wanted it not.

So I rode from Coomb Frome, but at the gate an-
other joined me. And I said:

"Have you learned where your lord now lies? Which
way do you ride to return to his standard?"

"He is dead. The men of his followingthose still
livingenlisted under other banners. I am without a
lord."

"Then where do you go, swordsman?"

"I am without a lord, but I have found a lady. Your
road is mine, mistress of powers."

"Well enough. But which road and where?"

There is still a war, Lady. I have my sword and you
yours. Let us seek where we can best harry the
Hounds!"

I laughed. I had turned my back on Coomb Frome.
I was freefor the first time I was freeof Aufrica's
governing, of the wretched survivors of Wark, of the
spell of the dragon cup, which henceforth would be
only a cup and not any lodestone to draw me into
danger. UnlessI glanced at Jervon, but he was not
looking at me, but eagerly at the road aheadunless, I
chose to make it otherwise. Which at some future day
I might just do.

DREAM  SMITH

THERE   ARE   MANY   TALES   which    the   song-

smiths beat out in burnished telling, some old and some
new. And the truth of this one or thatwho knows?
Yet at the heart of the most improbable tale may lie
a kernel of truth. So it was with the tale of the Dream
Smiththough for any man now living to prove it-
he might as well try to empty Fos Tern with a kitch-
en ladle!

Broson was smith in Ghyll, having both the greater
and the smaller mysteries of that craft. Which is to
say that he wrought in bronze and iron and also in
precious metals. Though the times he could use tools
on the latter were few and far between.

He had two sons, Arnar and Collard. Both were, in
boyhood, deemed likely youths, so that Broson was
looked upon, not only in Ghyll (which lies at river-
fork in Ithondale), but as far off as Sym and Boldre,
as a man well fortuned. Twice a year he traveled by
river to Twyford with small wear of his own making,
wrought hinges and sword blades, and sometimes
brooches and necklets of hill silver.

This was in the days before the invaders came and
High Hallack was at peace, save with outlaws, woods-
runners, and the like, who raided now and then from
the wastes. Thus it was needful that men in the upper
dales have weapons to hand.

Vescys was lord in Ithondale. But the Dalesmen saw
little of him since he heired, through his mother, hold-
ings in the shorelands and there married a wife with
more. So only a handful of elderly men and a wash-
wife or two were at the Keep and much of it was
closed from winter's midfeast to the next.

It was in the third year after Vescys' second mar-
riage (the Dalesmen having that proclaimed to them

by a messenger) that something of more import to
Ghyll itself occurred.

A trader came down from the hills, one of his ponies
heavily laden with lumps of what seemed pure metal,
yet none Broson could lay name to. It had a sheen,
even unworked, which fascinated the smith. And, hav-
ing tried a small portion by fire and hammer, he en-
thusiastically bargained for the whole of the load.
Though the peddler was evasive when asked to name
the source, Broson decided that the man was trying
to keep secret something which might well bring him
profit again. Since the pony was lame, the man con-
sented with visible (or so it appeared) reluctance to
sell, leaving in one of Broson's metal bins two sacks
of what was more melted scrap than ore.

Broson did not try to work it at once. Rather he
spent time studying, thinking out how best he might
use it. His final decision was to try first a sword. It
was rumored that Lord Vescys might visit this most
western of his holdings, and to present his lord with
such an example of smith work could only lead to
future favor.

The smelting Broson gave over to Collard, since the
boy was well able to handle such a matter. He had
determined that each of his sons in turn would learn
to work with this stuff, always supposing that the ped-
dler would return, as Broson was sure he would, with
a second load.

And in that he gave his son death-in-life, even as he
had once given him life.

For, though no man could ever learn what had gone
wrong in the doing, for all those standing by, including
Broson himself, had detected no carelessness on Col-
lard's part (he was known to be steady and painstak-
ing), there was an explosion which nigh burst the
smithy to bits.

There were burns and hurts, but Collard had taken
the worst of both. It would have been better had he
died in that moment. For when he dragged back into
half-life after weary months of torment and despair, he
was no longer a man.

Sharvana, Wise Woman and healer, took the broken
body into her keeping. What crawled out of her house
was no Collard, a straight, upstanding son for any man
to eye with pride, but a thing such as you see some-
times carved (luckily much weathered away) on the
ruins left by the Old Ones.

Not only was his body so twisted that he walked
bent over like a man on whom hundreds of seasons
weighed, but his face was a mask such as might leer
at the night from between trees of a haunted forest.
Sharvana had an answer to that, but it was not enough
to shield him entirely from the eyes of his fellows
though all were quick to avert their gaze when he sham-
bled by.

She took supple bark and made a mask to hide his
riven face. And that he wore at all times. But still he
kept well out of the sight of all.

Nor did he return to his father's house, but rather
took an old hut at the foot of the garden. This he
worked upon at night, never coming forth by day lest
his old comrades might sight him. And he rebuilt it into
a snug enough shelter. For, while the accident seemed
to have blasted all else, it had not destroyed his clever
hands, nor the mind behind the ruined face.

He would work at the forge at night, but at last
Broson said no to that. For there was objection to the
sound of hammers, and the people of Ghyll wanted no
reminding of who used them. So Collard came no more
to the smithy.

What he did no man knew, and he came to be al-
most forgotten. The next summer, when his brother
married Nicala of the Mill, he never appeared at the
wedding, nor ventured out in those parts of the yard
and garden where those of the household might see
him.

It was in the third year after his accident that Col-
lard did come forward, and only because another ped-
dler came into the forge. While the trader was dicker-
ing with Broson, Collard stood in the shadows. But
when the bargain for a set of belt knives was settled,

the smith's son lurched forward to touch the trader's
arm.

He did not speak, but motioned to a side table where-
on he had spread out a square of cloth and set up a
series of small figures. They were fantastical in form,
some animals, some men, but such men as might be
heroes from the old tales, so perfect were their bodies.
As if poor Collard, doomed to go crooked for as long
as he lived, had put into these all his longing to be
one with his fellows.

Some were of wood, but the greater number of metal.
Broson, astounded at viewing such, noted the sheen of
the metal. It was the strange stuff he had thrown aside,
fearing to handle again after the accident.

The trader saw their value at once and made an of-
fer. But Collard, with harsh croaks of voice, brought
about what even Broson thought a fair bargain.

When the man had gone Broson turned eagerly to
his son. He even forgot the strangeness of that blank
mask which had only eyes to give it the semblance of
a living man.

"Collard, how made you these? I have never seen
such work. Even in Twyford, in the booths of mer-
chants from overseas Beforebefore you never fash-
ioned such." Looking at that mask his words began to
falter. It was as if he spoke not to his son, but to some-
thing as alien and strange as those beings reputed to
dance about certain stones at seasons of the year, stones
prudent men did not approach.

"I do not know" came the grating voice, hardly
above an animal's throaty growl. "They come into my
headthen I make them."

He was turning away when his father caught at his
arm. "Your trade"

There were coins from overseas, good for exchange
or for metal, a length of crimson cloth, two knife han-
dles of carven horn.

"Keep it." Collard might be trying to shrug but his
convulsive movement sent him off balance, so he must
clutch at the tabletop. "What need has such as I to lay
up treasure? I have no bride price to bargain for."

"But if you wanted not what the trader had to of-
ferwhy this?" Arnar, who had been watching, de-
manded. He was a little irked that his brother, who
was younger and, in the old days had no great prom-
ise, could suddenly produce such marketable wares.

"I do not know." Again Collard slewed around, this
time turning his bark mask in his brother's direction.
"I think I wished to know if they had value enough
to attract a shrewd dealer. But, yes, father, you have
reminded me of another debt." He took up the length
of fine cloth, a small gold coin which had been looped
so that one might wear it on a neck chain. "The Wise
Woman served me as best she could."

He then added: "For the restlet it be for my share
of the household, since I cannot earn my bread at the
forge."

At dusk he carried his offering to Sharvana. She
watched as he laid coin and cloth on the table in her
small house, so aromatic of drying herbs and the brews
from them. An owl with a wing in splints perched on
a shelf above his head, and other small wild things, here
tame, had scuttled into cover at his coming.

"I have it ready" She went to the cupboard, bring-
ing out another mask. This was even more supple. He
fingered it wonderingly.

"Well-worked parchment," she told him, "weather-
treated, too. I have been searching for something to
suit your purpose. Try it. You have been at work?"

He took from the safe pocket of his jerkin the last
thing he had brought her. If the trader had coveted
what he had seen that morn, how much more he would
have wanted this. It was a figure of a winged woman,
her arms wide and up as if she were about to take to
the skies in search of something there seen and greatly
desired. For this was to the figures he had sold as a
finished sword blade is to the first rough casting.

"You have seenher?" Sharvana put out her hand
as if to gather up the figure, but she did not quite touch
it.

"As the rest," he grated. "The dreamsthen I awaken.
And I find that, after a fashion, I can make the dream

people. Wise Woman, if you were truly friend to me,
you would give me from your stores that which would
make me dream and never wake again!"

"That I cannot do, as you know. The virtue of my
healing would then pour away, like running water,
through my fingers. But you know not why you dream,
or of what places?" Her voice became eager, as if she
had some need to learn this.

"I know only that the land I see is not the Dales
at least the Dales as they now are. Can a man dream
of the far past?"

"A man dreams of his own past. Why not, were the
gift given, of a past beyond his own reckoning?"

"Gift!" Collard caught up that one word and made
it an oath. "What gift-?"

She looked from him to the winged figure. "Col-
lard, were you ever able to make such before?"

"You know not. But to see my hands soI would
trade all for a straight back and a face which would not
afright a woman into screaming!"

"You have never let me foresee for you"

"No! Nor shall I!" he burst out. "Who would want
that if he were as I am now? As to why thisthis
dreaming and the aftermaking of my dream people has
come upon mewell, that which I was handling in
the smithy was no common metal. There must have
been some dire ensorcelment in it. That trader never
returned so we could ask about it."

"It is my belief," said Sharvana, "that it came from
some stronghold of the Old Ones. They had their wars
once, only the weapons used were no swords, nor
spears, no crossbow darts, but greater. It could be
that trader ventured into some old stronghold and
brought forth the remains of such weapons."

"What matter?" asked Collard.

"Only thisthings which a man uses with emotion,
fashions with his hands, carries with him, draw into
themselves a kind ofI can only call it 'life.' This holds
though many seasons may pass. And if that remnant of
emotion, that life, is suddenly releasedit could well
pass in turn into one unwary, open"

"I see." Collard ran fingertips across the well-scrubbed
surface of the table. "Then as I lay hurt I was so open
and there entered into me perhaps the memories of
other men?"

She nodded eagerly. "Just so! Perhaps you see in
dreams the Dales as they were before the coming of
our people."

"And what good is that to me?"

"I do not know. But use it, Collard, use it! For if
a gift goes unused it withers and the world is the poorer
for it."

"The world?" his croak was far from laughter. "Well
enough, I can trade these. And if I earn my bread so,
then no man need trouble me. It is young to learn that
all one's life must be spent walking a dark road, turn-
ing never into any welcoming door along the way."

Sharvana was silent. Suddenly she put out her hand,
caught his before he could draw back, turning it palm-
up in the lamplight.

He would have jerked free if he could, but in that
moment her strength was as great as that of any labor-
ing smith, and she had him pinned. Now she leaned
forward to study the lines on the flesh so exposed.

"No foreseeing!" He cried that. The owl stirred and
lifted its sound wing.

"Am I telling you?" she asked. "Have it as you wish,
Collard. I have said naught." She released his wrist.

He was uneasy, drawing back his hand quickly, rub-
bing the fingers of the other about that wrist as if he
would erase some mark she had left there.

"I must be going." He caught up the parchment
maskthat he would try on only in his own hut where
none could see his face between the taking off of one
covering and the putting on of another.

"Go with the good will of the house." Sharvana used
the farewell of their people. But somehow those words
eased his spirit a little.

Time passed. All avoided Collard's hut, he invited
no visitors, not even his father. Nor did another trader
come. Instead there was news from the greater world

outside the Dale, a world which seemed to those of
Ghyll that of a songsmith.

When the Lord Vescys had wedded, his second wife
had had already a daughter, though few had heard of
her. But now the story spread throughout all of Ghyll
and to the out-farms and steads beyond.

For a party had ridden to the Keep, and thereafter
there was much cleaning and ordering of the rooms
in the mid-tower. It was that Vescys was sending his
daughter, the Lady Jacinda, to the country, for she
sickened in the town.

"Sickened!" Collard, on his way to the well, paused
in the dark, for the voice of his sister-in-law Nicala
was sharp and ringing in the soft dusk. "This is no new
thing. When Dame Matild had me come into the rooms
to see how much new herb rushing was needed for
the under-carpeting, she spoke freely enough. The young
lady has never been better than she is nowa small,
twisted thing, looking like a child, not a maid of years
like to wed. Not that our lord will ever find one to
bed with her unless he sweetens the bargain with such
dowry as even a High Lord's daughter could bring!

"The truth of it is, as Dame Matild saidthe new
Lady Gwennan, she wants not this daughter near her.
Very delicate she is, and says she cannot bear my
lord a straight son if she sees even in bower and at
table such a twisted, crooked body."

Collard set his pail noiselessly down and moved a
step or two nearer the window. For the first time in
seasons curiosity stirred in him. He willed Nicala to
continue.

Which she did, though he gained little more facts.
Until Broson growled he wanted his mulled ale, and
she went to clatter at the hearth. Collard, once more
in his hut, did not reach for his tools, but looked into
the flames in the fireplace. He had laid aside his mask,
and now he rubbed his hands slowly together while
he considered word by word what he had overheard.

This Lady Jacindaso she was to be thrust out of
sight, into a country Keep where her kin need not
look at her? Oh, he knew the old belief that a woman

carrying dared not see anything or anyone misshapen,
lest it mark the babe in her womb. And Lord Vescys
would certainly do all he could to assure the coming
of a son. There would be no considering the Lady
Jacinda. Did she care? Or would she be glad, as he
had, to find a place away from sight of those who saw
her not like them?

Had she longed to be free of that and would be
pleased to come to Ghyll? And was it harder for her,
a maid, to be so, than it was for him? For the first
time Collard was pulled out of his dreams and his bit-
terness, to think of someone living, breathing, walking
this world.

He arose and picked up the lamp. With it in hand,
he went to a wall shelf and held the light to fully
illumine the figures there. There were a goodly com-
pany of them, beasts and humanoid together. Looking
upon them critically, something stirred in his mind,
not quite a dream memory.

Collard picked several up, turned them about. Though
he did not really look at them closely now, he was
thinking. In the end he chose one which seemed right
for his purpose.

Bringing the figure back to the table he laid out his
tools. What he had was a small beast of horselike form.
It was posed rearing, not as in battle but as if it gam-
boled in joyous freedom. But it was not a horse, for
from between its delicate ears sprang a single horn.

Laying it on its side, Collard went to work on the
base. It was cockcrow when he was done. And now
the dancing unicorn had become a seal, its base graven
to print a J with a small vine tracery about it.

Collard pushed back from the table. The need which
had set him to work was gone. Why had he done this?
He was tempted almost to sweep the piece into the
melting pot so he could not see it again. But he did
not, only pushed it away, determined to forget his
folly.

He did not witness the entrance of the Lord Vescys
and his daughter, though all the rest of Ghyll gath-
ered. But he heard later that the Lady Jacinda came in

a horse litter, and that she was so muffled by cloaks
and covers that only her face could be seen. It was
true that she was small and her face very pale and thin.

"Not make old bones, that one won't," he heard Ni-
cala affirm. "I heard that Dame Matild has already sent
for Sharvana. The lady brought only her old nurse and
she is ailing, too. There will be no feasting at Ghyll
Keep." There was regret in her voice, not, Collard be-
lieved, for the plight of the Lady Jacinda, but rather
that the stir at the Keep would be soon over, with
none of the coming and going which the villagers
might enjoy as a change in their lives.

Collard ran fingers along the side of his mask. For
all his care it was wearing thin. He might visit Shar-
vana soon. But why, his hard honesty made him face
the truth, practice such excuses? He wanted to hear
of the lady and how she did in a body which im-
prisoned her as his did him. So with the coming of
dark he went. But at the last moment he took the
seal, still two-minded over it.

There was a light in Sharvana's window. He gave
his own private knock and slipped in at her call. To
his surprise she sat on her stool by the fireplace, her
journey cloak still about her shoulders, though its hood
had slipped back. Her hands lay in her lap and there
was a kind of fatigue about her he had never seen be-
fore.

Collard went to her quickly, took her limp hands in
his.

"What is it?"

"That poor little one, Collard, cruelcruel"

"The Lady Jacinda?"

"Cruel," she repeated. "Yet she is so brave, speaking
me fair and gentle even when I needs must hurt her
poor body. Her nurse, ah, she is old and for all her
love of her lady can do little to ease her. They trav-
eled at a pace which must have wracked her. Yet I
would judge she made no word of complaint. Just as
she has never spoken out against her banishment, or
so her nurse told me privately after I had given a

soothing draught and seen her asleep. But it is a cruel
thing to bring her here"

Collard squatted on his heels, listening. It was plain
that the Lady Jacinda had won Sharvana's support.
But at length she talked herself quiet and drank of the
herb tea he brewed for her. Nor did she ask why he
had come, seemed only grateful that he was there. At
last, to shake her out of bleak thoughts, he took the
seal out of his belt wallet and set it in the lamplight.

It had been fashioned of that same strange metal
which had been his bane. He was drawing on that
more and more, for it seemed to him that those pieces
he fashioned of that were his best and came the closest
to matching his dream memories. Now it glowed in
the light.

Sharvana drew a deep breath, taking it up. When
she looked upon the seal in the base she nodded.

"Well done, Collard. I shall see this gets to her
hand-"

"Not so!" Now he wanted to snatch it back but some-
how his hand would not obey his wish.

"Yes." She was firm. "And, Collard, if she asksyou
will bring others. If for even the short space of the
fall of a drop of water you can make her forget what
her life is, then you have done a great thing. Bring
to me the happy ones, those which will enchant her
perhaps even make her smile."

So Collard culled his collection, startled to find how
few he had which were "happy." Thus he set to work,
and oddly enough now his dream people he remem-
bered as beautiful or with an amusing oddness.

Twice had he made visits to Sharvana with his of-
ferings. He was working only with the strange metal
now and found it easy to shape. But the third time
she came to him, which was so unusual he was startled.

"The Lady Jacinda wants to see you, to thank you
face to face."

"Face to face!" Collard interrupted her. His hands
went up to cover even that mask in a double veiling
of his "face."

Then Sharvana's eyes flashed anger. "You areor you

wereno coward, Collard. Do you so fear a poor, sick
maid who wants only to give you her thanks? She has
fretted about this until it weighs on her mind. You
have given her pleasure, do not spoil it. She knows
how it is with you, and she has arranged for you to
come by night, through the old postern gate, I with
you. Do you now say 'no'?"

He wanted to, but found he could not. For there
had grown in him the desire to see the Lady Jacinda.
He had been, he thought, very subtle in his question-
ing of Sharvana, perhaps too subtle for the bits he had
learned he had not been able to fit into any mind pic-
ture. Now he found himself agreeing.

Thus, with Sharvana as his guide, Collard came to
the bower of the Lady Jacinda, trying to walk as straight
as his crooked body would allow, his mask tightly fas-
tened against all eyes, most of all hers.

She was very small, even as they said, propped with
cushions and well covered with furred robes, as she
sat in a chair which so overtopped her with its tall
back that she seemed even smaller. Her hair was long
and the color of dark honey, and it lay across her
hunched shoulders in braids bound with bell-hung rib-
bons. But for the rest she was only a pale, thin face
and two white hands resting on the edge of a board
laid across her lap for a table. On that board marched
all the people and beasts he had sent to her. Now and
then she caressed one with a fingertip.

Afterward he could not really remember their greet-
ing to one another. It was rather as if two old friends,
long parted, came together after many seasons of un-
happiness, to sit in the sun and just enjoy warmth
and their encounter. She asked him of his work, and
he told her of the dreams. And then she said some-
thing which did linger in his mind:

"You are blessed, Collard-of-the-magic-fingers, that you
can make your dreams live. And I am blessed that
you share them with me. Nowname these"

Somehow he began to give names to each. And she
nodded and said:

"That is just right! You have named it aright!"

It was a dream itself, he afterward thought, as he
stumbled back to the village beside Sharvana, saying
nothing as he wavered along, for he was reliving all
he could remember, minute by minute.

With the morn he awoke after short hours of sleep
with the urgency to be at Work again. And he labored
throughout the day with the feeling that this was a
task which must be done and he had little time in
which to do it.

What he wrought now was not any small figure but
a hall in miniaturesuch a hall as would be found,
not in the small Keep of Ghyll, but perhaps in the
hold of a High Lord. Scented wood for paneling, metal
the strange metal wherever it could be used.

Exhausted, he slept. He ate at times when hunger
pinched him hard, but time he did not countnor
how long before he had it done.

He sat studying it carefully, marking the furnishing.
There were two high seats upon a dais. Those were
emptyand that Was not right. Collard rubbed his hand
across his face, the rough scar tissue there for the
first time meant nothing to him. There was something
lackingand he was so tired. He could not think.

He staggered away from the table, dropped upon
his bed. And there he slept so deeply he believed
he did not dream. Yet when he woke he knew what
it was he must do. Again came that feeling of time's
pressure, so he begrudged the moments it took to find
food to eat.

Once more he wrought and worked with infinite
care. When he had done, with that passing of time he
did not mark, he had the two who must sit on those
high seats and he placed them therein.

Sheno twisted, humped body, but straight and beau-
tiful, free to ride, to walk, to run as she never had
been. Yet her face, it Was Jacinda and none could deny
it

The manCollard turned him around, surveying him
carefully. No, this was no face he knew, but it had
come to him as the right one. And when he put them

both into the high hall, he looked about the hut with
new eyes.

He rose and washed and dressed in his poor best,
for to him for some years now clothing was merely
to cover the body, not for pleasure. Then he put away
all his tools, those he had made himself. Afterward he
gathered up all the figures, those which were too gro-
tesque or frightening, the first he had made. These he
threw one by one into the melting pot.

Putting a wrapping of cloth about the hall he picked
it up. It was heavy to carry and he must go slowly.
But when he Went outside the village was astir, lights
of street torches such as were used only on great oc-
casions were out. And the Keep was also strung with
such torches.

A cold finger of fear touched Collard, and he hob-
bled by the back way to Sharvana's cottage. When he
knocked upon her door he was sweating, though the
wind of night was chill enough to bring shivers to
those it nipped.

When she did not call, Collard was moved to do
what he had never done before; his hand sought the
latch and he entered unbidden. Strange scents filled
the air and the light of two candles set one at either
end of the table burned blue as he had never seen.
Between those candles lay certain things he guessed
were of the Wise Craft: a roll of parchment spread
open with two strange-colored rocks to hold it so, a
basin of liquid which shimmered and gave off small
sparks, a knife crossed with a rune-carved wand.

Sharvana stood there, looking at him. He feared she
might be angry at his coming, but it seemed more as
if she had been waiting for him, for she beckoned him
on. And though heretofore he had been shy of her
secrets, this time he went to her, with the feeling that
something was amiss and time grew shorter with each
breath.

He did not set down his burden on the table until
Sharvana, again without speaking, waved him to do so.
She pulled free the cloth and in the blue candle flame
the small hallCollard gasped. For a moment or two

it was as if he had stood at a distance and looked into
room which was full-sizedreal.

"Sothat is the answer." Sharvana spoke slowly. She
leaned closer, studying it all, as if she must make sure
it Was .It for some purpose of her own. She straight-
ened again, her eyes now on Collard.

"Much has happened, you have not heard?"

"Heard what? I have been busied with this. The
Lady Jacinda?"

"Yes. The Lord Vescys died of a fever. It seems
that his new lady was disappointed in those hopes
which made it necessary to send the Lady Jacinda here.
His only heir is his daughter. She is no longer forgot-
ten, and by those who mean her no good. The Lady
Gwennan has sent to fetch hershe is to be married
forthwith to the Lady's brother Huthart, that they may
keep the lands and riches. No true marriage, and how
long may she live thereafterwith them wishing what
she bringsnot her?"

Collard's hands tightened on the edge of the table
as he listened. Sharvana's words were a rain of blows,
hurting more than any pain of body.

"Sheshe must not go!"

"No? Who is to stop her, to stand in the path of
those who would fetch her? She has bought a little
time by claiming illness, lying in bed. Her nurse and
I together have afrighted the ladies of the household
sent to fetch her by foreseeing death on the road. And
that they fearbefore she is wedded. Now they speak
of the Lord Huthart riding here, wedding her on her
deathbed if this be it"

"What-"

Sharvana swept on. "This night I called on powers
which I have never dared to trouble before, as they
can be summoned only once or twice by a Wise Wom-
an. They have given me an answerif you will aid"

"How?"

"There is a shrine of the Old Oneshigh in the
northern craigs. That power which once dwelt there
perhaps it can be summoned again. But it must have
a focus point to work through. You have that" she

pointed to the hall. "There sits the Lady Jacinda as
she should be, wrought of metal once worked by the
Old Ones themselves. How better can power be sum-
moned? But this must be taken to the shrine, and the
time is very short."

Collard once more looped the cloth about the hall.
He was sure of nothing now save that Sharvana her-
self believed in the truth of what she said. And if she
was right If she was wrong, what could he do? Try
to strike down those who would take the lady away
or wed her by force? Hethe monster one?

Better believe that Sharvana was right. No one could
deny that the Old Ones could still show power if they
would; there were too many tales of such happenings.
Sharvana had caught up a bag, pushed into it two unlit
candles, a packet of herbs.

"Set what you carry on mid-stone," she told him,
light a candle on either side of it, even as you see
them here. Give a pinch of herb powder to each flame
when it is lit. Call then three times upon Talann. I
shall go back to the Keep, do what I can to delay mat-
ters there. But hurry!"

"Yes." He was already on his way to the door.

Run he could not. The best he could produce was
a shambling trot and that was hard to keep over rough
ground. But at least he was near the craigs. Doubtless
the house of the Wise Woman had always been there
for a reason to be close to the shrine of the Old Ones.

Crossing the fields was not too hard, but the climb
which followed taxed all his strength and wit. There
was a pathperhaps in fairer weather was it easier to
follow. But now it proved hard in the dark. Until Col-
lard saw that there was a faint glow of light from what
he carried, and he twitched off part of the cloth so
that there was radiance from the metal showing.

Twice he slipped and fell, both times rising bruised
and bloody, yet he kept on doggedly, more careful of
what he carried than his own warped body. He was
so tired that he must force himself on inch by painful
inch. Now and again overlying that nightmare way he

could see the white face of the Lady Jacinda, and there
was that in her eyes which kept him struggling.

So he came to the ancient shrine. It was a cleft in
the rock, smoothed by the arts of menor whatever
creatures once gathered hereand there was a band
of badly eroded carving. Collard thought he could make
out in that hints of his dream creatures. But he focused
his attention to the stone set directly before the cleft.
It was shaped like the crescent moon, its horns point-
ing outward so Collard stood between them as he set
the hall on the altar and took away the covering.

With shaking hands he put up the candles, drew
out his tinderbox to light them. Then the pinch of
herb for each. His hand shook so he had to steady it
with the other as he followed Sharvana's orders.

There was a puff of scented smoke. Collard leaned
against the moon altar as he cried out in the best voice
he could summonno louder than the hoarse croak
of a fen frog:

"Talann, Talann, Talann!"

Collard did not know what he expected. The Old
Power was fearsomehe might be blasted where he
stood. But when nothing came, he fell to the ground,
not only overcome by weariness, but in black despair
of mind. Old Powerperhaps too old and long since
gone!

Thenwas it in his mind?or did it echo from the
rocks about him, tolled in some deep voice as if the
ridge itself gave tongue?

"What would you?"

Collard did not try to answer in words; he was too
dazed, too awed. He made of his feelings a plea for
the Lady Jacinda.

From where he crouched on the frost-chilled rock
his eyes were on a level with the hall. It shone in
splendor, more and more as if a hundred, a thousand
lamps were lit within. He thought he could hear a
distant murmur of voices, a sound of lute-playing
warmthsweet odorsand lifeswelling life!

For Jacindalife for her! Like thisas it should have
been! No wordsjust the knowledge that this was what

should have been had matters not gone fearfully astray
in another time and place.

Warmthlightaround him! He was not crouched in
the cold, he was sittinglooking down a hallaround
him No! For a moment he remembered what must
be the truthhe was dreaming again!

But this dreamhe pushed aside all doubts. This
dream he could claim, it was his to keep, to hold for-
ever! His dreamand hers!

Collard turned his head. She was watching him, a
small smile on her lips, welcoming And in her eyes
what glory in her eyes! He put forth his hand and
hers came quickly to meet it

"My lord-"

For a moment he was troubled. "We dream"

"Do we? Then let us claim this dream together, and
claiming it, make it real!"

He did not quite understand, but she answered his
uncertainty somehow. He began to forget, as she had
already resolutely forgotten.

There was a shining pool of strange metal on the
altar. It began to flow, to cascade to the ground, to
sink into the waiting earth which would safe-hide it
forever.

In the Keep Sharvana and the nurse each snuffed
a candle by a curtained bed, nodded thankfully to one
another.

But in the hall wrought by Collard there was high-
feasting and an everlasting dream.

AMBER OUT OF QUAYTH

1

BEES DRONED in the small walled garden,
working to store their harvest before the coming of the
Ice Dragon. Ysmay sat back on her heels, pushed a wan-
dering tendril of hair from her eyes with an earth-
streaked hand. Her own harvest lay spread behind her
on a well-cured hide. Those herbs would be dried in
the hut at the other end of the garden.

But when she stooped to cut and pull there was no
answering clink from her girdle. She was not yet used
to that loss. Sometimes she would find herself feeling
for the keys she no longer wore, afraid (until she re-
membered) that she might have lost them during her
digging and delving, pulling and cutting.

She had lost them indeed, those weighty responsi-
bilities of the Uppsdale chatelaine, but not because
they had left her belt by chance. No, they swung else-
where now, Annet was lady in this hold. As if it were
possible to forget that everthough here in this one
small place Ysmay could still claim sovereignty.

For five years, she had worn those keys. They had
been at first frightening years, during which she had
to learn much that was more demanding than the lore
of herbs. Then the years had brought pride. She, a
woman, so ordered life within the Dale that people
lived with a measure of content, though the sharp edge
of hunger's sword, the shadow of fear's mace, were ever
over them.

In the end news came that the war in High Hallack
was done, the invaders driven into the sea, or hunted
like winter wolves to their snarling deaths. Men re-
turned to their homessome men. Among them not
her father, nor her brother Ewaldthey were long
lost. But Gyrerd had ridden home with a ragged tail
of the hold's menie. And with him Annet, who was

daughter to Urian of Langsdale, now his bride and lady.
Ysmay's tongue swept across her upper lip to taste the
salt of her own sweat. But that was not as bitter as the
salt of her life with Annet.

Now Ysmay truly lived under ill-faced stars. From
ruler in the hold she had become a nithling, less than
one of the kitchen wenchesfor such had their duties,
she none, save what lay within this gardenand that
only because for Annet seedlings would not grow.
Though Annet resented this with a bitterness she
showed to Ysmay when she had opportunity, those with
ills to be cured still came to their lord's sister, not to
his lady wife. For Ysmay had the healing hands.

Healing hands, yet she could not heal the ache in
her heart, her emptiness. Pride she still had, and that
stubbornness which faced defeat shield up, sword ready.
Bleak indeed might the future stretch before her, but
it would be a future of her own devising. At that
thought a shadow smile curved her lips. Ha, Annet
had thought to send her to the Ladies of the Shrine.
But the Abbess Grathulda was a match for the Lady
Annet. She knew well that Ysmay was not of the stuff
of a Shrine Daughter. Passive she might school her-
self to be, but there was an inner fire in her which
could not be quenched in prayers and ritual.

Sometimes that fire blazed high in her. But not even
her own waiting wench knew the night hours when
Ysmay paced her cramped chamber, thinking or trying
to think of some way out of the trap.

Had these been normal times, had her father sur-
vived, she might have followed custom, gone to rule
by marriage another hold. It could be that she would
not even see her lord before their marriage day, but
that was proper. As a wife she would have certain rights
which none could gainsay her, those same rights which
Annet held here.

But she had no father to arrange such a match. And,
what was worse, no dowry to attract a suitor. War had
cut too deeply the resources of the dale. Gyrerd, being
what he was, would not lessen what he had left. His
sister could go to the Ladies, or remain on grudging

sufferance, which Annet could make as cold as winter.

The rebellion so hot in Ysmay was gaining strength.
She willed it under her control, breathing deeply of
the strongly scented air, making her mind consider
what lay directly before her. She examined the plants
she chose with deliberate care, when she wanted to
tear and destroy in her frustration.

"Ysmaysister!" Annet's sweetly reasonable voice was
a lash across her shoulders.

"I am here," she answered tonelessly.

"Newsmost welcome news, sister!"

What, Ysmay wondered. She edged around, her dun-
colored skirts kilted in a sprawl about long limbs which
Annet's daintiness made seem so clumsy and out of
proportion.

The Lady of Uppsdale stood just within the gate.
Her skirts were the deep blue of the autumn sky. At
her neck the silver beads winked in the light. Her hair,
braided and looped high, was almost as silvery. In all
she gave the impression of comeliness, if one did not
note the thinness of those ever-smiling lips, or see that
the smile was absent from her eyes.

"News?" Ysmay's voice was harsh in her own ears.
It was ever so. She need only sense Annet near and
she became what the other thought heras if those
thoughts produced some shape-changing magicclumsy,
loutish.

"Yesa fair, sister! Such a fair as they had in the old
days! A rider from Fyndale brings the news."

Ysmay caught some of Annet's enthusiasm. A fair!
Dimly she could remember the last fair in Fyndale.
Through the mist of years, that memory had taken on
a golden glory. Her reason told her that was not so,
but her memory continued to trick her.

"A fair, and we shall go!" Annet made one of those
pretty and appealing gestures which so enchanted any
male in sight, clapping her hands together as might a
little maid.

We? Did Annet mean Ysmay too? She doubted that.
But the other was continuing.

"My lord says that it is safe now, that he need only

leave a token force here. Ysmayis this not fair for-
tune? Hasten, sister, you must come and look through
the chests with me. Let us see what we can find that
we shame not our lord."

I know what I can find in any chest of mine, Ysmay
thought without pleasure. But it would seem that she
was indeed to be included in their party. And she
knew a swift rush of excitement which was akin to
pleasure as she gathered up her morning's harvest.

Though she knew Annet was no friend to her, Ysmay
could not fault her during the following days. Annet
had a clever eye for dress and, from the few pieces of
old finery of her own mother's time which Ysmay pos-
sessed, she pieced out two robes of more subtle cut
than any Ysmay had ever owned. When she faced the
burnished shield which served as her mirror, on the
morning of their going, she thought she looked well
indeed.

Never had Ysmay any pretense of the soft pretti-
ness of Annet. Her face narrowed from cheekbones
to a pointed chin, her mouth was far too large for her
face. Her nosethere was no denying it was too high
in the bridge. Her eyes were merely eyes, their color
seemed to vary, being now green, again darkly brown.
Her hair was thick enough, but it was not golden, nor
richly black, just brown. Her skin, not properly pale,
was also brown from her labors in the garden, the more
so this season when she had been driven to spend
more and more time there.

She was too tall for a woman, she had always known
that. But in this robewell, she looked more as a wom-
an should look. It was made of an odd shade of tawny,
just likeYsmay turned to the small box which had
been her mother's and took out a small amulet. Yes,
it was the hue of this robe, was her amber talisman.
The small piece she held was old and so worn she
could barely distinguish the carving, but it was a
warm, beautiful color. She found a cord to string it on
and knotted it as a pendant.

For safekeeping she tucked it within the neck of
the laced bodice. Her dress was made with divided

skirt for riding, but to Ysmay it held all the enchant-
ment of a court gown.

Though she was wary, she found little to worry her
as she rode with Annet. Gyrerd was ahead with his
marshal, the body of the household straggling behind.
Those who had mounts rode them at an ambling pace,
others walked, for the promise of the fair gave good
cheer above aching feet.

They left Uppsdale at dawn. At nooning they were
at the south gate of the dale where they feasted on
cold food. That night they reached the outer rim of
Fyndale itself and camped in company with another
party, the Lord of Marchpoint, his lady, daughter and
their following. There was much coming and going
with exchange of news and rumors.

Ysmay listened, but talked little. One thing she heard
gave her a thought to dwell upon. The Lady Dairine,
daughter of Marchpoint, coyly confessed her hopes to
Ysmay. One of the great advantages which might be
found at the fair was a future husband.

"My lady mother," Dairine offered as final evidence,
"in the days before the war, of course, went to the
fair at Ulmsportwhich was a far greater gathering than
this, sought by the highest of the Lords. It was there
my father first saw her. And before he rode thence
he had talk with her father. The matter was so settled
that their betrothal was held at Midwinter Feast."

"I wish you the same luck," Ysmay answered, her
thoughts busy. Was this why Annet and Gyrerd had
brought her? But without a dowry what match could
she attract?

A proper match? With half the lords and their heirs
dead in the war, there could well be many maids never
wifed. Sowhat then of those who ,had been shield-
less men, newcomers without family names for kin
blood? They had heard tales of masterless men who
would now be master, men who had taken over aban-
doned holdings, calling themselves lord, with none to
challenge them.

But such Would be shrewd enough to drive hard
bargains when it came to taking a wife. They might

want kinship with old names, but they would also
want a dowry. Would all do so? Ysmay felt a stir of a
new excitement. What ifwhat if the most unexpected
could happen?

She thought of Uppsdale which had been her world.
It was not her world any longer, it was Annet's. She
believed now and was sure this was true, that she could
turn her back on Uppsdale if the future offered her a
place of her own.

The fair was where it had been before, in the view
of the gray stone pillar. The pillar remained from ear-
lier days, when the men of High Hallack had not yet
come to Fyndale. An older people had vanished be-
fore the coming of the Dalesmen.

Their traces held power of a sortwhich troubled
the Dalesmen. To pry too deeply might unleash that
which could not easily be controlled. So there was
awe and respect for old monuments. And at Fyndale
all who were the heads of households went directly
to the pillar, laying their bared hands upon it and swear-
ing peace, so that no feuds or old rivalries could dis-
turb the fair.

Fronting the pillar the booths of the merchants were
set up in a wide curve. At a little distance, on fields
yellow with the stubble of cut grain, sprouted the tents
and flimsy leantos of the visitors. There the party from
Uppsdale rode to set up temporary lodging.

"Ten merchants' flags, sister." Annet, flushed of face,
bright of eye, slapped her gloves into the palm of one
hand. "Ten merchants of consequence, perhaps even
some from Ulmsport! Think of it!"

It had indeed been a long time since merchants of
such standing had come into the upper Dales. Ysmay
was as eager as the rest to see what lay in those booths.
Not that she had aught to spend. But even to look
would be a feast for the eyes, something to remember
during drab future days. They had hardly expected to
find merchants of the flag class.

Annet, Ysmay, and the two ladies of Marchpoint went
to explore the booths. What the traders had to offer
might be poor after the long years of war and the fail-

ure of overseas trade, but it was still far more than
they had.

The Lady of Marchpoint had a round of silver to
lay out in the booth of woven stuffs. It was to be
spent, Lady Dairine proudly told Ysmay in a whisper,
for a length to make at least an over-tunic, to be kept
for her wedding. And the spending of such a sum
took caution and bargaining.

They studied several lengths of heavy silk. None
was new, some even had small needle holes unpicked
from earlier sewing. Loot, Ysmay suspected, perhaps
found among the pickings when the invaders' camps
Were overrun. She loved the rich coloring, but thought
she would not care to wear anything made of plunder.
Thought of the previous owner would have troubled
her.

There were laces too. They also had the appearance
of former use. But the merchant had some bolts of
less rich stuffs. These were well dyed (Ysmay was
sure she recognized the colors from her own experi-
ments) warm and excellently woven. Those she cov-
eted more than the lengths the Lady of Marchpoint
fussed over.

It was hot in the booth, even though the front was
looped up. At last she moved to the opening, looking
away from the temptation of those fabrics she could
not buy.

So Ysmay witnessed the arrival of Hylle, an impres-
sive sight, for he led in a train of men and pack-beasts
to rival that of a Dale lord. He had no flag at the van
to label him merchant, nor did he come close to the
booths already set up, but rather waved his following
to a site at one side, keeping aloof from the company
of his kind.

His men were shorter than most Dalesmen and, in
the unusual bulk of clothing they had upon them,
looked squat, clumsy, though they worked with speed
and assurance, setting up booth poles, unrolling walls
and roof of hides to be stretched over the frame. In
spite of the heat, the workers wore their head hoods

pulled well down, so Ysmay could not see their faces,
a fact which made her uneasy.

However the master was in full view. He had not
dismounted and his mount was a good one, fully equal
to any a Dale lord would be proud to bestride. He
sat with one hand on his hip, the other playing with
the reins, watching the efforts of his followers.

Even in the saddle he loomed tall, and looked more
warrior than merchantthough in these days a man
must be both if he would protect his goods. He wore
no sword, but there was a long knife at his belt. Fas-
tened to his saddle was a light battle mace.

Unlike his followers he had bared his head, his rid-
ing cap hanging from his saddle horn. His hair was
very dark and his face curiously pale for a man out in
all weathers on the roads. He was not handsome by Dale
standards, yet once you had looked upon him, you
could not easily turn your eyes away. Rather you found
yourself scanning him intently as if you could so read
what manner of man he was.

He had sharp features, a mouth set straight as if
used little to expressing emotion, black brows across
his nose to form a single bar. The color of his eyes
Ysmay could not see, for his lids drooped as if he were
sleepy. Yet she did not doubt that he saw all about
him, and had thoughts concerning what he saw.

There was that which hinted that he wore an outer
self which was not the same as his spirit. Ysmay de-
cided her fancies must be more controlledstill the
impression clung that here was a man few would ever
know. She believed he would be worth knowing none-
theless. She felt heat rising in her cheeks, and inner
disturbance she had not known before.

Ysmay turned sharply away, aware her stare had been
too intent. She hurried back to the others and stood
gazing at the length of rose silk the Lady of March-
point had chosen, not seeing a thread of it.

They did not visit Hylle's booth, since he had not
opened for business. It was not until they ate their
evening meal that Ysmay learned what wares he had
brought to the fair and that his name was Hylle.

"From the north," Gyrerd said. "Amberthey say a
real treasure in amber. But he has chosen ill. I do not
believe there is enough coin here to buy more than
two beads of it! His name is Hylle, but his men are
a queer crewkeeping to themselves, not even send-
ing for a jug of Mamer's autumn ale."

Amber! Ysmay's hand sought the amulet beneath her
bodice. Yes, this merchant Hylle would find few here
to buy such. But like enough he was on his way to
Ulmsport and had only stopped along the road, hear-
ing of the fair. Ambershe knew where her own piece
had come fromthe cleft of a hill-born stream. Once
there had been more. Fifty years ago, amber had
brought riches to Uppsdale. But that was before a fall
of rock had sealed the source.

She smiled ruefully. Were that not so, why, she
would be the one to wear not only amber, but gold.
She would not have to haggle for a length of old,
needle-pricked silk from some looter's spoilbut that
barren hillside which now hid the amber for all time
had been sealed even to Ysmay's mother. And on her
mother's dying it had come to her. Nothing was there
now but stone and a few stunted trees, and most had
forgotten that a piece of ground, without price or use,
was hers.

"Amber" Annet repeated, her eyes shining as they
had when she had earlier looked upon the silks. "My
lord, amber is a powerful thing, it can cure. The Ladies
of Grayford had a necklet of amber and those who
were taken with evils in the throat wore it with a
blessing so it wrought their cure. Yet it is beautiful
also, like honey grown hard, so its sweetness abides.
Let us go and look upon this Hylle's wares!"

Gyrerd laughed. "My dear lady, such sweetness is
beyond the purse at my belt. I might well pledge the
whole of Uppsdale and not raise enough to buy such
a necklet as you spoke of."

Ysmay's hand tightened. For, while the amulet was
hers, if Annet saw it, could Ysmay continue to keep
it? Annet had taken all else, but this was not for her
grasping hands.

"He will find few buyers here," Annet said thought-
fully. "But if he sets up a booth, he must show what
he has. And maybewith so few buyers"

"You think he will ask less? Perhaps you are right,
my lady. Only do not make big eyes and sigh, for
there is no hope. Not because I would say you nay for
a whim, but because I have no choice."

Though the dark of twilight was already here they
went to where Hylle's booth was marked by blazing
torches, tended by two of his men, still keeping their
hoods, their faces shadowed.

As they passed one man, Ysmay tried to see him
better, but could not distinguish his features. She felt
only a shrinking as one might from something mis-
shapen, not by the whim of nature, but because of in-
ner blight. Again she chid herself for being fanciful
and hurried after the others.

2

RICH COLOR was here, not in draped lengths of
material, but laid out on tables. Here was worked am-
ber in such quantity as Ysmay would not have be-
lieved existed.

Nor was it all the honey amber. It ranged through
subtle shades, each laid on a backing to enhance it
pale, near to white, bright yellow of butter, red-
dish, bluish, greenish. And it was wrought into neck-
laces, armlets, bow-guards, girdles, set into the hilts of
swords and knives, in rings, in circlets for the head.
There were larger pieces which were bowls or gob-
lets, or small figures of gods and demons-
Facing that display the party from Uppsdale came
to a halt, staring as fieldworkers might do if suddenly
transported to the feast hall of a lord.

"Welcome, Lord, Ladies." Hylle bowed, not in the
obeisant greeting of a merchant, but as though he dealt
equal to equal. He clapped his hands and two of his
hooded men shambled out to put stools to the mid-

dle table. Another brought a tray of cups with a greet-
ing drink.

Ysmay saw the uncertainty of her brother. He was
jealous of his rank, claimed due reverence from a shield-
less man. Still he accepted a cup, drank to Hylle, and
the women did likewise.

The drink was spicy rather than sweet and Ysmay
held it in her mouth, trying to guess the mixture of
herbs in its making. But with all her learning she could
not be sure. Still holding the cup she sat content to
look about.

There must be more than a High Lord's hold ran-
som in value here and she wondered at the folly
or courageof a man venturing overland with this in
such unsettled times. Folly? She looked at Hylle. No
folly in his face, only courage and something else, an
assurance close to arrogance.

"Riches, Merchant." She had missed the first of Gy-
rerd's speech. "Too rich for us here. We have felt the
hard hand of the invader too heavily to make good
customers."

"War is harsh." Hylle's voice was low but deep. "It
spares no man, even the victors. And in the time of
war, trade is deeply wounded. It has been many years
since Quayth's amber has been shown in any market
place. So to water trade that it may sprout and grow,
prices are lowereven for such as this" He caught
up a necklace of many pendants.

Ysmay heard a sigh from Annet. Her own hunger
awoke also. Yetthere was something She pressed
her hand once again on Gunnora's charm and, as she
did so, she felt sudden distaste for what she saw, per-
haps because there was so much of it. Heaped so to-
gether its beauty seemed belittled, diminished.

"Quayth?" Gyrerd made of that name a question.

"To the north, my lord. As you know amber is found
on the shore of the sea in certain places, or along
streams. The ignorant say it is the casting of dragons,
but that is not so. Rather is it a hardened gum exuded
from trees thousands of seasons dead. In Quayth there
must once have been a mighty forest of such trees,

for amber is easily foundeasily I say in comparison
to other places.

"Also you see here the fruit of many years of col-
lection when because of the war it could not be of-
fered generally for sale. So that this is more than would
be in one place in the natural order of things."

He replaced the necklace and picked up a broad
pendant wrought into a shape Ysmay could not clearly
see.

"Now here you have a talisman of Thunder Shield,
an older piece. See you the difference?" He held it
closer to an armlet. "The older it is, the longer ex-
posed to the air and handling, the more amber takes
on a deeper and richer coloring."

He put back the armlet but continued to hold the
pendant. There was a slight change in his expression.
It seemed to Ysmay that he was looking with a search-
ing intensity at Gyrerd, and then to Annet. Finally
those dark eyes, whose color she could not name, were
turned in her direction, as if to draw from her, even
against her will an answer to some unknown question.

"Quayth seems to be well favored," Gyrerd said. "Bet-
ter by far than Uppsdale in our grandfather's time."

Hylle's eyes swung from Ysmay. She had been un-
comfortable, wondering what there was about her to
catch and hold his attention.

"Uppsdale, my lord?" Hylle's tone invited an ex-
planation.

"There was a rock cut which yielded some amber,
enough to make life smoother," Gyrerd replied. "But
later a fall of rock, such a slide as no man could dig
through, sealed it. If any remains there it is useless as
if it lay at the bottom of the sea."

"A sad loss, my lord," nodded Hylle.

Annet rose from her stool, wandered from table
to table. Now and then she put forth a finger to touch
a necklace, a skillfully wrought circlet of amber flow-
ers and leaves for the hair. But Ysmay stayed where
she was, watching Hylle from beneath lowered lids.
She knew that he was as aware of her as she of him.

There was a heady excitement in this centering upon
a man. Yet he was only a merchant.

At last they left and, when they were out of the
booth, Ysmay drew a deep breath. One of the hooded
servants was detaching a burned torch from its stan-
dard to replace it. His hands were covered with gloves
which was strange, for those were only worn by com-
moners in the coldest weather. But strangest of all was
the fact that each finger and thumb tip was provided
with a hooked claw extending for a noticeable distance,
as if to resemble those of a beast of prey. Ysmay could
not conceive of any reason to so embellish a hand cov-
ering. Dalesmen had many superstitions. Protective amu-
lets were common, was there not one such about her
neck? Suppose these strangers wore as protective magic
the claws of some animal? With this answer her mind
was more at ease.

But she could not forget how Hylle had stared at
her. She discovered that her answering excitement lin-
gered. So that she held his face in mind and tried also
to picture the Quayth from which he had come and
what his life must be there.

Vaguely she heard Annet prattle of the necklace. And
then came a single sentence which awoke her abruptly
from her dream.

"But my lord, remains there nothing then of the am-
ber found at Uppsdale? Surely your grandfather did
not barter it all!"

"It went during the lean years, sweetling. I remem-
ber that my mother had an amulet left once"

Ysmay's hand was to her breast in protection. Annet
had taken all else, and that she had had to yield. But
Gunnora's charm was hers! And she would fight for it.

"But is it true that the place where it came from
could not be reopened" Annet persisted.

"Too true. My father, when it was sure war would
come, needed treasure for weapons. He brought in a
man used to the iron mines of the South Ridges, pay-
ing well for his opinion. But the fellow swore no skill
could shift that rock fall."

Ysmay felt small relief. At least Annet did not ask

more about remaining amber. She excused herself and
went to her pallet.

But not to sleep easily. When she did it was with
her hand closed protectively about Gunnora's amulet.
She dreamed, but when she awoke she could not re-
member those dreams, though she carried into wak-
ing the feeling they had been important.

The Lady of Marchpoint and Dairine came in the
morning, excited over Hylle's wares. Again they had
hard money to lay out. And seeing Annet's mouth droop,
Gyrerd hacked one of the silver rings from his sword
belt.

"If he lays his prices low to gain a market," he said,
"get you a-fairing. More than this I cannot do."

Annet said her thanks quickly. Experience had taught
her how far her demands might go.

So, somewhat against her will, Ysmay returned to
Hylle's booth. This time his hooded servants were not
visible. But within the door, on a stool, squatted a
woman of strange aspect.

She was thick of body, her round head seeming to
rest directly on her shoulders, as if she possessed no
neck. Like the hooded men, she was dressed in a robe
of drab hue but hers was patterned over with sym-
bols in thick black-and-white yarn.

Her girdle was of the same black and white min-
gled together. Now her fat hands rested on her knees,
palms up as if she waited for alms, and she stared into
them. She might have been holding a scroll from which
she read.

Strings of coarse yellow hair hung from under a veil
fastened with braiding. Her face was broad, with a strag-
gling of hairs on the upper lip and along the paunchy
jaw.

If she had been left as guardian of the booth, she
was a poor one, for she did not look up as the ladies
approached, but continued to stare absorbedly at her
empty hands. Only when Ysmay passed her, did she
raise her eyes.

"Fortunes, fair ladies." Her voice was in contrast to
her lumpish, toadlike body, being soft and singsong.

"A reading of pins on the Stone of Esinore, or, if you
fancy, the foretelling of what the Elder Gods have
written on your hands."

Annet shook her head impatiently. At another time
she might have been tempted. Now she had silver
and a chance to spend it to the best of her bargain-
ing powers. Nor was Ysmay ready to listen. That there
were true seeresses, no one doubted. But she did not
think this repulsive hag was one.

"Trust that which you wear, Lady" For the first
time the woman looked directly at her. The soft voice
was very low, plainly meant for her alone.

And Ysmay found herself, against her will, listening.
Hylle came out of the shadows.

"Ninque seems to have a message for you, Lady. She
is a true seeress, esteemed in Quayth."

This was not Quayth, Ysmay thought. Seeress or no,
I do not want to listen to her. Yet she sat on the
stool Hylle produced, to find herself eye to eye with
the woman.

"Your hand upon mine, Lady, so that I may read
what lies there."

Ysmay's hand half moved to obey. Then she jerked
back, her disgust for the woman overriding whatever
spell the other cast. The woman showed no emotion,
only her eyes continued to hold Ysmay's.

"You have more than you believe, Lady. You are one
for far faring and deeds beyond the women's bowers.
Youno, I cannot read clearly. There is that under
your touch nowbring it forth!"

Her soft, insinuating voice was a bark of order. Be-
fore she thought Ysmay pulled at the cord, drawing
out Gunnora's amulet. And behind her she heard a
hiss of indrawn breath.

"Amber." Again the seeress' voice was singsong. "Am-
ber in your hand always, Lady. It is your fate and your
fortune. Follow where it leads and you shall have your
heart's full desire."

Ysmay stood up. She jerked from her belt purse a
single copper coin and dropped it into those hands,

forcing herself to give the conventional thanks for fore-
seeing, though the words choked her.

"A good fortune, Lady," Hylle stepped between her
and the woman. "That bit you wearit is very old"

She sensed he would like to examine it, but she had
no intention of letting it out of her hands.

"It is Gunnora's talisman. I had it from my mother."

"A sign of power for any woman." He nodded. "Odd-
ly enough I do not have its like here. But let me show
you a thing which is very rare" He put two fingers
to her hanging sleeve. And it was as if the world sud-
denly narrowed to the two of them alone.

He picked up a box of fragrant pinsal wood, slid
off its lid. Within was a cylinder of amber, a small
pillar of golden light. Caught within it for the cen-
turies was a winged creature of rainbow beauty.

Ysmay had seen in her own amulet small seeds,
which was meet for a talisman of Gunnora's, the har-
vest goddess of fertile fields and fertile woman. But
this piece was marked with no random pattern of seeds.
It was as if the creature had been fixed by intelligent
purpose.

So beautiful it was that she gasped. Hylle put it into
the hands she had involuntarily stretched forth and
she turned it around and around, studying it from all
angles. Ysmay could not be sure whether the creature
within was a small bird or a large insect, for it was
new to her, perhaps something which had long gone
from the living world.

"What is it?"

Hylle shook his head. "Who knows? Yet once it lived.
One finds such in amber from time to time. Still this
is unusual."

"Sisterwhat have you?" Annet crowded in. "Ah,
that is indeed a thing to look upon! Yetone cannot
wear it"

Hylle smiled. "Just so. It is a wall ornament only."

"Take it," Ysmay held it out. "It is too precious to
finger lightly." At that moment she coveted the flying
thing greatly.

"Precious, yes. But there are other things. Lady,
Would you trade your amulet for this?"

He had stood the cylinder on the flattened palm
of his hand, balanced it before her eyes to tempt her.
But the moment of weakness was gone.

"No," she replied evenly.

Hylle nodded. "And you are very right, Lady. There
is a virtue in such amulets as yours."

"What amulet, sister?" Annet crowded closer. "Where
got you any amulet of price?"

"Gunnora's charm which was my mother's." Reluc-
tantly Ysmay opened her hand to show it.

"Amber! And Gunnora's! But you are no wedded
wife with a right to Gunnora's protection!" Annet's
pretty face showed for an instant what really lay be-
hind it. She was no whole friend, nor half friend, but
really revealed herself asunfriend.

"It was my mother's and is mine." Ysmay pushed
the charm back under the edge of her bodice. Then
she spoke to Hylle.

"For your courtesy in showing me this treasure, Mas-
ter Trader, I give thanks."

He bowed as if she were the favorite daughter of
a High Lord. But she was already turning out of the
booth, uncertain of where to go or what to do. She
was sure that Annet would now work upon Gyrerd to
take her only treasure from her.

Yet Annet, upon her return to their tent, said noth-
ing of the amulet. Rather she was displaying with open
|oy a bracelet of butter amber, its bright yellow con-
trasting with clasp and hinge of bronze. That she had
purchased it with her single piece of silver she took
as a tribute to her bargaining skill. And Ysmay hoped
she was now fully satisfied.

However, she steeled herself to be on guard when
they met for their evening meal. Gyrerd admired the
bracelet and Ysmay waited tensely for Annet to in-
troduce the subject of the amulet. Instead it was her
brother who at last brushed aside the continued ex-
clamations of his wife and turned to Ysmay, eyeing
her as if moved by curiosity.

"We may have had more than one stroke of luck
from Hylle's booth," he began.

"The amber mine!" Annet broke in. "My dear lord,
does he know of a way that it can be worked again?"

"He thinks so."

"Ah, lucky, lucky day! Lucky chance that brought
us to this fair!"

"Perhaps lucky, perhaps not so." He kept a sober
face. "The mine, if it still holds aught, is not sealed
to the Hold."

Annet's face grew sharp. "How so?" she demanded.

"It was settled upon Ysmay for a marriage portion."

"What fool-" Annet shrilled.

For the first tune Gyrerd turned a frowning face
upon her. "It was sealed to my mother. There were
still hopes then that it might be worked and my fa-
ther wished her secure against want. The dowry she
brought rebuilt the north tower for the protection of
the Dale. When she died, it was sealed to Ysmay."

"But the Dale is war-poor, it is now needed for the
good of all!"

"True. But there is a way all may be satisfied. I have
had talk with this Hylle. He is no common merchant,
not only because of his wealth, but because he is lord
in Quayth, of blood not unequal to our own. For some
reason he has taken a fancy to Ysmay. If we betroth
her to him, he will return half the amount of any
amber he takes from the mine, using his own meth-
ods to open it again. See, girl?" He nodded to Ysmay.
"You will get you a lord with greater riches than
most hereabouts can claim, a hold where you carry
the keys, and a full life for a woman. This is such a
chance as you shall not find twice."

She knew that was true. And yetwhat did she
know of Hylle, save that he held her thoughts as no
other man had done? What did she know of his north-
ern hold? Where would he lead if she gave her con-
sent? On the other side of the shield was the knowl-
edge that, if she refused, Annet would surely make
life a torment, nor would Gyrerd be pleased with her.

Looking from right to left, then right again, she thought
she had little choice.

Quayth could not offer her worse than Uppsdale,
were she to say yes. And there was hope it would
offer better. After all, most marriages in the Dales were
made so, between strangers. Few girls knew the men
they went to bed with on their marriage night.

"I shall agree, if matters are as he has told you,"
she said slowly.

"Dear sister." Annet beamed on her. "What joy! You
shall have better faring than this dame of Marchpoint
buys to dress her cow-faced daughter! And such a wed-
ding feast as all the Dales shall remember! My lord,"
she said to Gyrerd, "give you free-handed that your
sister may go to her bridal as becomes one of high
name."

"First we shall have the betrothal," he said, but in
his voice also was an eager note. "Ah, sister, perhaps
you have brought the best of fortune to Uppsdale!"

But Ysmay wondered. Perhaps she had been too
quick to give her word. And now there was no draw-
ing back.

3

ALL THE LAMPS in the great hall were alight,
for it was close to winter and shadows were thick.
But Gyrerd did not scant on his sister's wedding feast,
as not only the lamps but the food on the table tes-
tified.

Ysmay was glad that custom decreed the bride keep
her eyes on the plate she shared with the groom. He
was courteous in asking her taste in dishes, waiting for
her first choice, but she ate only a token bite or two.

She had assented to betrothal; today she gave her
word in marriage. Now she wanted only escape, from
the hall, from this man. What folly was hers? Was she
so mean-spirited that she must give all she had for
freedom from Annet's petty spite? As for Gyrerd, he

was so intent upon opening the old mine that his re-
action to a refusal would not have been petty.

This was the natural way of life. A woman married
to benefit her House, her kin. If happiness followed,
then she was blessed indeed. Ysmay could hope for
that, but not expect it in the natural order of things.
And certainly he whom she had wedded would give
her rule over hearth and hold.

Hylle had ridden in for the wedding with but a
small train of followers and men-at-arms, but not the
hooded laborers. They were newly hired for protec-
tion he said, since his own people were not weapon-
trained. On the morrow, before the breath of the Ice
Dragon frosted the ground into iron, his workers would
try to reopen what rocks had closed.

Though Hylle had more than picks and spades. At
Gyrerd's persistent questioning, he had admitted to a
discovery of his own, a secret which he would not
explain, but which he believed would serve.

Ysmay had not looked straightly at him since their
hands had been joined before the niche of the house
spirit. He made a brave showing, she knew, his tunic
of a shade close to golden amber, with wrist bands,
collar and belt of that gem. His bride gifts rested heav-
ily on hergirdle, necklace, a circlet on her unbound
hairall of various shades of amber set together to
simulate flowers and leaves.

The feast had been long, but they were close to the
end. And if she had her will she would turn back
time to live these past hours overso the moment
would not come when he would rise and take her
hand while those in the hall drank good fortune, and
those at the high table took up lamps to escort them to
the guest chamber.

Her heart beat in pounding leaps, her mouth was
dry, yet the palms of her hands were wet until she
longed to wipe them upon her skirt. Pride kept her
from that betraying gesture. Pride must be her sup-
port now, and she held to it.

The signal was given, the company arose. For a sec-
ond of panic Ysmay thought her trembling legs would

not support her, that she would not have strength to
walk the hall, climb the stairs. But somehow she did
it. And she did not lean upon his arm. He must not
guess, no one must guess her fear!

She clung to that as they stood at the foot of the
great curtained bed. The scent of sweet herbs, crushed
underfoot in a fresh laid carpet, fought with the smell
of lamp oil, the odor of wine and of heated bodies,
making her faintly ill. She was so intent upon holding
to her mask of composure that she did not hear the
bawdy jests of the company.

Had Hylle been one of their own they might have
lingered. But there was that about him which fostered
awe. So they tried none of the tricks common at such
times. When they were gone, leaving but two great
candles, one on either side of the chest at the foot of
the bed, he crossed the room and set the lock-bar at
the door.

"My lady." He returned to the chest whereon was
a pitcher of wine, a platter of honey cakes. "I must
share with you a secret of import."

Ysmay blinked. He was not the eager bridegroom,
but rather spoke with the same tone as when he talked
with Gyrerd about the mine. His attitude steadied her.

"I have spoken of my secret to open the mine. But
I did not say how I came by it. I am a merchant, yes,
and I hold the lordship of Quayth, make no mistake
in that!" For a moment it was as if he faced a chal-
lenge. "But I have other interests. I am an astrologer
and an alchemist, a seeker of knowledge along strange
paths. I read the star messages as well as those of the
earth.

"Because I do this I must sacrifice certain ways of
mankind for a space. If I would succeed in what I do
here, I cannot play husband to any woman. For all
my strength is needed elsewhere. Do you understand?"

Ysmay nodded. But a new fear stirred. She had
heard of the disciplines of the magics.

"Well enough." He was brisk now. "I had thought
you were one of sensible mind, able to accept mat-
ters as they are. We shall, I am certain, deal well to-

gether. Let only this be understood between us from
this hour forward. There are things in my life which
are mine alone, not to be watched or questioned. I
shall have a part of Quayth into which you venture
not. I shall go on journeys of which you shall ask noth-
ing, before or after.

"In return you shall have rulership of my house-
hold. I think you will find this to your liking. As for
now, get you to bed. This night I must study the stars
that I find the rightful time to turn my power against
the stubborn rocks guarding your dowry."

Ysmay lay back on the pillows of the bed, around
which Hylle himself had pulled the curtains, cutting
off her sight of him. She could hear him move about
the chamber, with now and then the clink of metal
against metal, or against stone. For now she felt only
relief, not curiosity.

She thought she could accept the life he outlined
with a right good will. Let him have his secrets, and
she her household. She thought of her chest of herb
seeds and roots, ready corded to take to Quayth. Al-
chemist he had saidwell, she, too, had her knowledge
of distilling and brewing. If Quayth had not such a
garden as she had tended here, it would gain one. Fit-
ting one plan to another, she fell asleep, unmindful
of what went on beyond the closed curtain.

It was noon the next day when Hylle's men brought
in a wagon. They did not stay at the hall but moved
on to that upper part of the Dale, to camp at the rock
slide. Hylle suggested that the Dalesfolk keep away
from the site since the power he would unleash might
spring beyond his control.

He allowed Gyrerd, Annet and Ysmay to come nearer
than the others. Still they must stand at a distance,
watching the hooded men at work among the tumbled
rocks. Then, when the leader whistled, all scattered.
Hylle, carrying a torch in his hand, touched it to the
ground. Having done so, he also ran with great loping
strides.

There was a long moment of silence broken only

by Hylle's harsh breathing. Then-a roar-a shock-
rocks rose in the air, the earth trembled and shook.
Stones, split and riven by the thunder, rained down
where the men had been a few moments before. Annet
held her hands over her ears and screamed. Ysmay
stared at the chaos the blast had left. The solid dam
of rock was broken, pounded into loose rubble, and
already the hooded men were upon it with pick and
shovel. Gyrerd spoke to Hylle.

"What demon's work is this, brother?"

Hylle laughed. "No demon obeys me. This is knowl-
edge I have gained through long study. But the secret
is mineand will turn on him who tries it if I am
not by."

Gyrerd shook his head. "No man would want to use
that. You say it is not demon raised, yet to me it seems
so. To each his own secrets."

"Fair enough. And this one will work for us. Could
any hand labor so clear our path?"

Twice Hylle used his secret. After the debris of the
second blast was cleared, they fronted a cleft which
might once have held a stream. Here the hooded men
shoveled loose the remaining rocks of the slide.

Hylle went to the fore of that company, coming
back with a handful of blue clay. He waved it before
them triumphantly.

"This is the resting place of amber. Soon We shall
have reward for our labors."

The hooded men continued to dig. Hylle stayed at
their camp, not returning to the Hold. So Ysmay alone
made the rest of her preparations for the journey north.
Hylle had already warned that he must give no more
than ten days to the present searching, since they would
pass through rough country and winter was coming.

But the yield through the days and nights of labor
(for the crew worked by torchlight and seemed not
to sleep) was small. If Gyrerd and the others were
disappointed, Hylle seemed not. He shrugged and said
it was a matter of luck, and of the stars' guidance.

In the end he made a bargain with Gyrerd, which
to Ysmay's hidden surprise, seemed overly generous.

For the few lumps taken out of the cutting, he of-
fered in exchange some of his own wares, far to the
advantage of the Dalesmen. Gyrerd made only token
protest, accepting the trade avidly. Thus, when Hylle's
party rode out of Uppsdale, all which had been found
was stowed in the saddlebags of Hylle's own mount.

With a promise of return at the first loosing of spring,
the party from Quayth turned to the wilderness in the
north. This was indeed unknown country. When the
Dalesmen had first come to High Hallack, they had
clung to the shores, awed and fearful of the back coun-
try. Through generations they had spread inward, ven-
turing west and south, but seldom north.

Rumors spoke of strange lands where those who
had held this land earlier still lurkedalways to the
north and west. During the war the High Lords had
sought any allies they could raise, and so had treated
with the Were-Riders from one of those unknown sec-
tions. In the end the Were-Riders had retired again
in that direction. Who knew then what lay beyond the
next ridge?

Yet Ysmay was less wary than she might have been.
Bred in her was a longing for what lay beyond her
door, and she looked about her with interest.

For the space of two days they were in tilled land,
spending the first night at Moycroft, now a ruin, aban-
doned during the war for lack of manpower. But by
the third day they were well into the unknownat
least unknown to Ysmay's people, though Hylle seemed
to have knowledge of it. Ysmay could see no trail
markings, save here and there ruts of wagon wheels,
made by Hylle's men.

This was a drear land where a bitter wind blew and
one wrapped one's cloak tighter and searched in vain
for anything to break the awesome emptiness. To Ys-
may's reckoning they were going more north than west,
angling back toward the sea. She wanted to ask about
Quayth, and the land about it, whether they might
have neighbors. But Hylle was seldom with her. And
when they were in camp he brought out a reading
scroll, sometimes running his finger along crabbed lines,

shaping words with his lips, but never speaking them
aloud. There was a wall about him she could not breach.

She wondered more and more what it would be like
to share a hold with a man who did not even talk to
her. That warning he had given on their wedding night,
and which she had accepted with relief, now appeared
to have another aspect. She did not even have a maid-
servant, for Hylle had refused to take any woman of
the Dales, saying she would be well served and a maid
away from her own land would be ever pining for
home.

Thus turned upon her own resources, Ysmay spent
much time thinking. Why had Hylle married her?
Surely not just for a few lumps of unworked amber!
With all that wealth of his own, he had no need for
such a pitiful supply. And because the question was
one to which she had no answer, she found it disturb-
ing. The unknown provides rich soil for growing fear.

Hylle was not one of the shieldless men who wished
to unite with an old family. And what had she to of-
fer him? He had already made it plain that it was not
for her body he had taken her.

Now they threaded through woods. Though the bit-
ter wind no longer lashed, there was nothing reassur-
ing about this forest. Their trail, which had to accom-
modate the wagon, twisted and turned among trees
which were tall and old, whose trunks wore feathery
lichens in green, rust, white or even blood red. Ysmay
disliked the lichen. Underfoot, centuries of leaves had
turned to dark muck and gave forth an unpleasant scent
when stirred by the hooves of their mounts.

For a day they traveled so, pausing to eat of their
provisions, to breathe the horses and rest. Hylle did
not set a fast pace, but he kept a steady one. The si-
lence of the forest acted upon them. There was little
speech, and when a man voiced words, he sometimes
glanced over his shoulder, as if he feared he had been
overheard by one not of their party.

The trees thinned, their way sloped up. They camped
that night in hills. There followed days which had so
much of a sameness that Ysmay lost track of time.

This was no easy passage in the hills. Hylle took
time nevertheless to go out each night with a rod of
metal which he held to one eye to look upon the stars.
He warned them they must make haste for storms were
not too far away.

He was right. The first flakes of snow began before
dawn. All were roused out in the dark to ride. Now
the slope was down again and in that Hylle appeared
to take comfort, though he continued to urge them.

Ysmay had lost her sense of direction, for they had
turned this way and that. However, by midmorn, there
came a wind which carried a new scent. A man-at-
arms had been detailed to ride with her (for Hylle
accompanied the wagon). She heard him say, "That is
a sea wind!"

They came down into a cut between ridges which
ran as straight as if it marked an old road. The ridges
banked away the wind, though here the snow piled
deeper.

Suddenly the path curved and the right-hand ridge
fell away, placing the travelers on a ledge. Cliffs glit-
tered with the accumulation of salt crystals. The sea
pounded below. Strangest sight of all was a wider sec-
tion of ledge where the wind had scoured away the
snow to clear three great stone chairs, carved from
rock certainly not by nature but by intention. Each
bore upon its seat a pillow of snow, softening its harsh
austerity.

Ysmay recognized another ancient work of the Old
Ones. Now she was sure that they were following a
road.

Once more the way turned, this time inland. They
saw ahead among the rocky cliffs a structure which
seemed a part of its stony setting. It arose by wall
and tower to dwarf any Dale-hold.

Hylle loomed out of the fine shifting of snow. With
the stock of his whip he pointed to the vast pile.

"Quayth, my lady."

She realized with a chill that her new home was
one of the ancient remains. And, contrary to all the
precautions and beliefs of her own people, she must

dwell in a shell alien to her kind. But there was no
turning back. She made an effort not to show her un-
ease.

"It is very large, my lord."

"In more ways than one, my lady." His eyes held,
searched her face as they had at the first meeting in
the merchant's boothas if fiercely he willed her to
reveal the fear which lay within her. But that she
would not do. In a moment he spoke again.

"It is one of the ancient places, which the Old Ones
had the building of. But time has been kinder to it
than to most such. You will find it not lacking in com-
fort. Halet us home!"

Their weary mounts broke into a trot. Soon they
passed the overhang of a great, darksome gate into a
vast courtyard whose walls had towers set at four cor-
ners.

Two of those towers were round. That through which
the gate opened was square. The fourth displayed odd
sharp angles, unlike any she had seen before.

Though there were faint gleams of light in some of
the narrow windows, no one was here to bid them
welcome. Troubled, she came stiffly out of the sad-
dle into Hylle's hold, and stumbled through begin-
ning drifts of snow under his guidance to the door at
the foot of the nearest round tower. The others scat-
tered through the courtyard in different directions.

Here there was rest from the wind, the heartening
blaze of a fire.

To Ysmay's surprise, instead of a thick matting of
rushes and dried herbs on the floor, she saw a scat-
tering of mats and rugs of fur stitched together in
fanciful patterns, light matched to dark.

These formed roads and pathways across the stone,
the main one leading to an island of warm cheer by
the hearth. There stood two tall-backed chairs, cush-
ioned with pads of colorful stuff, even having small
canopies above to give the final measure of protection
against wandering drafts. There was also a table with
platters and flagons. Hylle brought Ysmay to the blaze

where she loosed her cloak and held her hands thank-
fully toward the warmth.

A musical note startled her. She turned her head.
He had tapped a bell that hung in a carved frame-
work on the table. Soon a figure came down the wind-
ing stair which must serve as a spine for the tower.

Not until the newcomer reached the fire could Ys-
may make out who it was. Then she caught her lip
that she might not utter her instinctive protest.

For this creature, whose head was level with her
own shoulder, was that Ninque who had told the gab-
bled fortune at the very beginning of this change in
her Me. Only now the seeress did not wear her fanci-
fully embroidered robe, but rather a furred and sleeve-
less jerkin over an undertunic and skirt of rusty brown.
Her head was covered with a close-fitting cap which
fastened with a buckle under her flabby chin. She
looked even less likely as a bower woman than as a
prophetess.

"Greetings, LordLady." Once more that soft voice
came as a shock from the obese body. "By good for-
tune you have outrun the first of the bad storms."

Hylle nodded. When he spoke it was to Ysmay.

"Ninque will serve you, Lady. She is very loyal to
my interests." There was an odd emphasis in his words.
Ysmay was intent only on the fact that he intended to
leave her with this oddling.

She lost pride enough to start to lay her hand in
appeal on his arm. But in time she bethought herself
and did not complete the gesture. He was already at
the outer door before she could summon voice.

"You do not restsuphere, my lord?"

There was a glitter in his eyes which warned her.
"The master of Quayth has one lodging, and none trou-
bles him in it. You will be safe and well cared for
here, my lady." And with that he was gone.

Ysmay watched the door swing shut behind him.
Again the dark question filled her mind. Why had he
brought her here? What did he need or want of her?

4

YSMAY STOOD at a narrow slit of window, look-
ing down into the courtyard. The tracks below made
widely separated patterns. In a pile constructed to
house a host, there seemed to be a mere handful of
indwellers. Yet this was the eve of Midwinter Day.
In all the holds of the Dales there would be prepara-
tion for feasting. Why should men not rejoice at the
shortest day of the frigid winter when tomorrow would
mean the slow turn to spring?

However, in Quayth there were no visitors, no such
preparations. Nor did Ninque and the two serving
wenches (squat and alien as herself) appear to under-
stand what Ysmay meant when she asked what they
were to do. Of Hylle she had seen little. She learned
that he dwelt in the tower of sharp angles and that
not even his men-at-armswho had their quarters in
the gate towerventured there, though some of the
hooded men came and went.

Now when she looked back at her hopes, to be ruler
of the household here, she could have laughed, or
rather wept (if stubborn pride would have allowed
her) for the wide-eyed girl who hoped she rode to
freedom when she left Uppsdale.

Freedom! She was close-pent as a prisoner. Ninque,
as far as Ysmay could learn, was the true chatelaine
of Quayth. At least Ysmay had had the wit and wari-
ness to go very slow in trying to assume mistress-ship
here. She had not had any humiliating refusal of the
few orders she had given. She had been careful not
to give many, and those for only the simplest matters
concerning her own needs.

This was at least a roomy prison, no narrow dungeon
cell. On the ground floor was the big room which had
seemed a haven of warmth at her first entrance. Above
that was this room in which she stood, covering the
whole area of the tower, with a circling open stair lead-

ing both up and down. Above were two bare cham-
bers, cold and drear, without furnishing or signs of
recent usage.

Here in this second chamber there was a bed cur-
tained with hangings on which the needle-worked pic-
tures were so dim and faded by time that she could
distinguish little of the patterns, save that here and
there the face of a dimmed figure, by some trick of
lamp or firelight, would flare into vivid life for an
instant or two, startling her.

There was one which appeared to do this more often
than the rest. Thinking of it, Ysmay turned from the
window, went to that part of the hanging and spread
it with one hand while she fingered the face. This
time it was dim, features blurred. Yet only a short
time ago she had looked up from the hearth and it
had given her a start as if a person stood there watch-
ing her with brooding earnestness.

She could close her eyes and see it feature for fea-
turea human face, which Was better than some of
the others flickering into life there at night. Some had
an alien cast as if their human aspect were but a mask,
worn above a very different countenance. This one was
human, and something about it haunted her. Perhaps
her memory played tricks but she remembered a des-
perate need in its expression.

Which proved how narrow her present life was, that
she must make up fancies about old needlecraft! Ys-
may wondered whose needles had wrought this and
when. She smoothed the length of cloth with her fin-
gertips, feeling the small irregularities of the stitching.

Then her nails caught in something which was no
soft embroidery, but a hard lump. She fingered it, un-
able to detect it by eye, only by touch. It seemed to
be within the material. She went for a hand lamp,
holding it as close as she dared.

Here was the figure which had intrigued her. It
wore a necklaceand this lump was part of the neck-
lace. Inspection showed it concealed within the threads.
With the point of her belt bodkin Ysmay picked deli-
cately at the object. It had been so tightly covered by

overstitching that the task was a long one. But at last
Ysmay could pull out the ends of cut threads, squeeze
what they held into her hand. It was smooth She held
it close to the lamp. Amber certainly! Wrought into a
device so intricate that it took her some time to see
it in detail.

A serpent crawled and turned, coiled and inter-
coiled. Its eyes were tiny flecks of butter amber set
in the darker shade of its body. The almost invisible
scaling on its sides was a masterwork of carving. In
spite of inborn repugnance for scaled creatures, Ys-
may did not find the stone unpleasant. In fact, the oppo-
site was true.

Thenshe gave a little cry and would have flung
it from her but she could not.

Those coils were turning, writhing, coming to Me!

She watched with horror as the serpent straightened
from the involved knot in which she had found it,
then coiled again in the hollow of her palm after the
fashion of the living kind it resembled. Its head was
upheld, with the yellow eyes turned to look at her,
and there was a flickering at its tiny mouth as if of
tongue play.

For a long moment they remained so, Ysmay and
the thing she had freed. Then it slid across her hand
while she still could not move to hurl it away. It was
not cold as a serpent would have been, but warm.
She was aware of light perfume. Certain rare ambers
had that scent.

Down to her wrist, under the edge of her sleeve,
the serpent went. She felt the warmth encircle her
arm and snatched back her sleeve. The serpent was
now a bracelet, one she could not rid herself of, no
matter how hard she tried. She must either cut it in
twain or break it into bits.

Ysmay returned to a chair by the fire, holding her
arm stiffly before her. What she had seen was not pos-
sible. True amber had once been a part of a living tree.
The old idea that it was dragon spittle or dung was
only a tale. Living things were found entrapped in it,
such as small insects. She recalled the flying thing

Hylle had shown her. But the stuff itself did not live!
It had certain odd properties to amuse the curious.
Rub it well and it would draw to it, as a magnet at-
tracts iron, small bits of chaff, hair and the like. It
could be crushed and distilled into oil.

Distilled! Ysmay stood up, her hand still outstretched
lest her wrist touch her body. She went to the chest
which she had packed with such care at Uppsdale. She
had to use both hands to lift the heavy lid. She searched
among the packets.

At last she found what she sought, brought out the
bag which could be the answer to any witchery. Back
in her chair she worried open the fastening, using
her one hand and her teeth.

She savored the good odor from within. Of all herbs
grown this was the greatest defense against the pow-
ers of darkangelica, herb of the sun in Leo, talis-
man against poison and evil magic. Ysmay stretched
forth her wrist to expose the serpent. Taking a pinch
of the precious herb she rubbed it along the brown-
red thread of body.

But the circle remained solid, as it might have been
if wrought in this form from the beginning. She rubbed
it well and then drew out the amulet of Gunnora.
For She who was the protector of Me would stand
against all things of the Shadow. And to the serpent
she touched that talisman. Word by word she repeated
the charm.

Life is breath, life is blood.
By the seed and by the leaf,
By the springtime with its flood.
May this power bring relief!

She might as well be dealing with any ordinary
bracelet. Yet she had witnessed the transformation and
knew differently.

Cut it, break it! Even as Ysmay looked about for
the means of doing either she saw the fire. Fire! Am-
ber would melt at the touch of fire. She felt now she

could endure burns on her flesh rather than carry this
band.

But she found she could not reach for a brand. In-
stead she huddled in the chair, staring at the serpent.
Its yellow eyes turned upon her. Larger those eyes
grew until at last they merged into one circle of light,
and it was as if she looked through a window.

Among shadows and pools of light, she caught
glimpses of tables piled with strange bottles, loops of
metal, bowlsthe sullen glare of a furnace was in evi-
dence. Then she was looking into another chamber cut
by pillars.

The contents startled and frightened her. For even
as the winged thing had been enclosed in Hylle's cylin-
der, here other shapes were enclosed, save these were
much larger.

Some were so grotesque she gasped, but these were
swiftly passed. Ysmay was drawn to the center of the
chamber where stood two pillars apart from the others.

In one, the nearer, was a man. His face might be
Hylle's save for a subtle difference, as if they were
akin in blood but not in spirit. This was less the Hylle
of Quayth than the Hylle she had seen at the fair.
Looking upon him Ysmay felt again that strange ex-
citement which had first moved her. Also it seemed
that his staring eyes sought hers in turn.

But Ysmay no longer faced the man in amber. Now
she was drawn to the other pillar and it held a woman.

Her dark hair was dressed high and held in a net
of gold. The net was studded with flowers carved of
butter amber. She also wore a circlet of dark amber
in the form of a serpent. Her robe was silken and am-
ber in color and about her throat was a necklace of
nuts, each encased in clear amber. These glowed, seem-
ing to blaze higher when Ysmay looked upon them.

The woman's eyes were open like the man's. While
there was no sign of life about her features, those eyes
reached Ysmay with appeal so strong it was as if she
shouted aloud for aid.

Ysmay felt a whirling of the senses. Images formed
in her head and were diffused before she could un-

derstand. Only that terrible need, that cry for help,
remained. And in that moment she knew that she
could not refuse to answerthough what the woman
and man wanted from her she could not tell. A pic-
ture in her mind, imposed over the pillars as if a veil
arose, was the courtyard of Quayth as she could see it
from her tower. And what she faced now was the
angled tower of Hylle's forbidden domain. She was
certain that this chamber of the image lay within its
walls.

Then that picture shriveled and was gone. The pil-
lar chamber, too, disappeared. She was blinking at the
fire on the hearth.

"Lady" Ninque's soft voice broke the quiet.

Ysmay hurriedly dragged her sleeve over the serpent,
hid Gunnora's amulet in a swiftly closed hand. But
nothing could conceal the scent of the angelica.

"What is it, Ninque? I have thought to order my
herbs and see if I have the making for a Midwinter
Eve cup."

The woman's thick nostrils had widened, testing the
air.

"Lord Hylle would speak with you, Lady."

"Then let him do so." As the woman turned her
broad back, Ysmay slipped the cord of the amulet back
over her head, hiding the talisman. Then she resealed
the packet of angelica.

"My lord?" she looked up as Hylle came with his
almost silent tread. Even if one could not hear his
footfall on the fur mats of the room, one could sense
his coming. He was like an invisible force disturbing
the air. "It is Midwinter Eve, yet I have heard noth-
ing of any feast." She must play the innocent wrapped
in the customs of the life she had left behind.

But she found herself searching his features intently.
How much was he like that other? If memory did not
deceive her the subtle difference had deepened. Had
Hylle of the fair worn a mask now laid aside in Quayth?

"Midwinter Eve," he repeated as if the words were
in some foreign tongue. "Oha feast of your people.
Yes, I am sorry, my lady, but you must keep it alone

this year. An urgent message has come to have me
ride out. Nor may I return before the morrow's morn."
Then he was sniffing the air. "What have you here,
my lady? The scent is new to me."

She gestured to the open chest. "Herbs. I have some
small skill in their growing and usage, my lord. Now
I check my store against the need for savor or scent.
But" she went to place the packet with the others
"since we shall have no feast, I need not concern
myself with such."

"I am truly rebuked, my lady, that I have been so
apart from you since our homecomingand that I have
not taken heed of the passing of time nor the fact
that this feast was near. Forgive me this time and I
shall not err again."

Instinct told her that these were merely words and
that his feeling for her was such that he believed
vague promises would always satisfy her as they might
a child.

He went after several more meaningless words of
courtesy and she watched from the window as he rode
with his men-at-arms. Ninque came in shortly with a
bronze bowl. In it was a necklace of many pendants.
Their design alternated greenish and bluish amber. She
guessed that the piece was a rarity, perhaps worth all
the portable goods in the Uppsdale Hold.

Ysmay put the necklace on before a mirror. She sim-
ulated pleasure, calling Ninque and the two wenches
who came with her supper to see how fine a gift her
lord had sent her. She hoped her acting was good
enough to deceive Ninque.

She had fastened her sleeve bands tightly at the wrist
and there was no chance of the woman spying what
she wore there. When Ysmay sat down to eat she filled
a horn cup and half raised it to her lips. Then she
shook her head.

"I do not speak ill of your brewing," she said lightly.
"But were mint added this would be a better drink.
Have you ever drunk it so?"

"We know not much of southern herbs in these parts,
lady. Our Quayth is in the path of too chill winds to

let such grow. Mint I have heard of, but of its use
so, that I have not."

"Then you shall taste and tell me whether or no
you think I speak the truth. This is a feast eve among
my people, Ninque. Since my lord cannot keep it with
me, perhaps you will"

For a moment the woman hesitated. Between her
lips the tip of a pale tongue showed for an instant.
Then her eyes, those ever-watchful eyes, went to the
pitcher on the table.

"There is not enough for a second cup, my lady.
You have ever refused more than one, so the wench
did not bring it"

"Then have one of them fetch more, Ninque. Do
not deny me even this poor revel on a feast eve."

Ninque turned to the stair reluctantly as one who
had no excuse for doing otherwise, but would refuse
if she could. Ysmay raised her horn again. She could
detect in it only the odor of a good brew. But she
was as sure as if someone stood at her shoulder speak-
ing a warning, that there was something more in it
Poison? No, that she did not credit. But there were
growing things which could be used in cunning ways,
to bring deep sleep, to haze the wits so that memory
would after play one false.

Why so sharp a suspicion came to her now, she was
not to know. She knew only that she was warned. No
sooner had Ninque gone than Ysmay was moved to
action she did not understand. She unfastened her
sleeve, held her bared wrist above the cup.

Instantly the serpent moved, but now its action made
her more curious than afraideven excited her as the
prospect of battle might excite a fighting man.

The head of the serpent darted down to dip in the
liquid, stirring it. Then it snapped up, once more catch-
ing the tip of its tail in its mouth, and hardening into
a bracelet.

Ninque came up the stair with a tray on which sat
a horn cup which she placed on the table. Ysmay went
to her chest. Mint, yes, but she palmed another herb
as well, with a skill at concealment she would not

have believed herself capable of. While it was mint
alone that she sprinkled in her own cup, the mint
was mingled with another powder to flavor Ninque's.
Then she took up a small spoon to stir each well.

"By rights, Ninque" she smiled"being both wom-
en, we should have a sprig of ivy to dip in this for
luck, then to fling into the fire to take all evil fortune
with it. For my lord it would be hollybut ivy is for
women. Since we have it not, I bid you good fortune."

"And so I do wish you, Lady," said Ninque.

Ysmay drank, though it was hard with that suspicion
within her. How effective had the serpent been to
counteract anything wrongshe did not know. But she
was convinced that in its way the serpent was her pro-
tection, since Gunnora's charm had not repelled it.

"What think you of mint?" She had emptied her cup,
set it aside.

Ninque put down her own.

"It has a fresh and pleasing taste, Lady. Your south-
ern growths must be strong. Nowif you will excuse
meI must see to the wenches. You spoke of a feast
and my lord was ashamed he had forgotten. But we
shall do the best we can for the morrow."

"Which is right courteous. But true to the favor my
lord has shown me. Yes, you may go, Ninque. I shall
bed early, I think. For some reason I am sleepy."

Was she right in her guessthat the doctored drink
was meant to drug her? She could read no change in
Ninque's expression.

But after the woman had gone, Ysmay once more
loosened her sleeve and held the serpent at eye level.
This time it did not open any vision for her.

"I know not what is wanted of me," she addressed
the carving in a whisper. "But there are many mys-
teries in Quayth, and perhaps danger of more than
one kind. I cannot draw sword, but neither do I bend
my neck to the yoke willingly. Whatever is to be laid
upon me, let it begin here and now, for it is better
to face danger squarely, than to wait for its coming
while courage grows thin."

In the long moment of silence thereafter it came

into her mind what must be done. She arose, put aside
her outer garments, and donned her riding skirt which
gave her greater freedom of movement. And she took
her cloak of gray.

At the head of the stairs she listened and, when
there was no sound below, she moved. She had learned
that those sections of building uniting the towers were
the quarters of the hooded people. With any luck
Ninque and the wenches were safely back in their own.

Ysmay had to use both hands to draw open the outer
door. The quickest way to the angled tower was straight
across the courtyard. But she had no mind to reveal
her going to any at some window.

Instead she slipped along the wall, her cloak and
skirt dragging in the drifted snow until she reached
the door to Hylle's stronghold. The hand she raised
to its latch was the one above the serpent.

There was no lock. The door swung easily, perhaps
too easily, to her pull

5

A BOOM OF sharp angles was but dimly lighted.
Ysmay gasped, for facing her was a cloaked figure.
Then she raised her serpent-girdled arm, and that other
copied her gesture. She realized she fronted a mirror.

But for the mirror and two lamps high in wall niches,
there was nothingsave smell. Her nose tingled at the
war of strange odors here. Some might have been pleas-
ing, but they were nigh overcome by acrid whiffs she
could not identify.

She turned slowly, peering into those dusky angles.
By her survey she discovered what could not be seen
from the courtyard, that this tower had been erected
in the form of a five-pointed star. She had a vague
recollection of ancient lore concerning such a star.

However it was not this bare, shadowed room she
sought. Seeing a stairway within one of the angles, she
ascended. The steps were worn in depressions, as if

from long use. In fact the whole interior of this tower
carried the weight of years in its stones, as if a toll
of centuries had settled upon it.

Thus Ysmay came into a chamber crowded with such
a wealth of things as she could not sort into any un-
derstandable array. There were tables filled with curls
of metal piping, with retorts, with bottles and flagons
some of which she recognized as akin to those used
in herb distilling. And there were things she could
not name at all.

She feared to touch anything. For that mingling of
odors was very great, almost overpowering, bringing
more than a hint of danger. Ysmay rubbed her fingers
across the serpent.

For some reason it was lighter here, enough to show
still another stair. Ysmay took care in crossing to it,
threading a way by those littered tables, holding tight
her cloak lest she brush something from one of them.

So she came up to the room of her vision. Here were
the pillars forming first an outer star, and then an in-
ner. Against the far wall were two tables. At the point
of each star row were candlesticks as high as her own
shoulder. In each burned a candle wrist thick. The
flames were not honest red-gold, but bluish, making
her own flesh look unhealthy and diseased.

Her hand went forth of its own accord. Someone
might have held a chain fastened to her wrist, jerked
it without warning, to draw her. She walked between
two of the outer pillars, coming so to the center.

Before her was the woman of her vision, and the
man who was Hylle, yet not Hylle. Imprisoned though
they were, their eyes lived, fastened avidly on her as
if they strove to cry aloud what must be done. Yet if
they had had the power to bring her here, that power
was limited, for no message reached her.

But she could not doubt what they wantedtheir
freedom. Could people be so encased and yet live?
This was magic such as she had met only in old legends.

"What must I do?" she begged them. She touched
the surface of the pillar which encased the woman.
To her fingers it was solid. Broken? Cut? Amber was

a soft material, easily worked. A knife might chip away
its substance.

Ysmay drew her belt knife, used the point in a hack-
ing blow, only to have good steel rebound as if she
had struck at a stone. The force jarred her arm. Not
even a scratch was left on the surface of the pillar.

That there was a way to free them she did not
doubt, but it must lie in magic. She stepped away and
turned slowly around, surveying the whole group of
pillars set star within star. The blue light made even
more fantastic the grotesque heads and bodies. But she
forced herself to a full inspection.

Those of the outer star were not human, but a mix-
ture of weird forms. The second star held more hu-
manoid figures, half of them small, squat, wearing tu-
nics like men.

Their bodies were thick, wide of shoulder, arms long,
out of proportion. From their fingers and toes pro-
truded long curved claws, closer to the talons of some
bird or animal than to a human nail. Their facesthese
surely had kinship with Ninque's people.

Nails, squat shapesYsmay fitted what she saw to
make a thought which brought a shiver to her. The
hooded men with their glovesHylle's followers who
kept, or were kept, apart from the Dalespeople. Was
this their real appearance? But why were these few
pillar-bound?

It was a relief to look back to the wholly human
forms of the man and woman. Once more their eyes
burned, besought If she could only understand what
she could domust do!

Those eyes were closing! There was a shade of in-
tense concentration on their faces. Impulsively Ysmay
raised her hand, shook back her sleeve so that the ser-
pent was free. Because once before she had looked
into its eyes with strange results, she did so again.

Largerlargernow she stared at a single yellow globe,
clean, free from the blue taint of the others. This time
no window formed through which she viewed another
place. Rather there was a whispering voice. Because
she sensed that what it would tell her was of utmost

importance, she strained to catch words, to make co-
herence of the sound. But there was no intelligible
message. And at last the whisper died away.

She swayed. Her back and her feet ached, as did
her head. She might not only have stood in that posi-
tion for a length of time, but she felt as if she had
concentrated on some mental exercise too hard for
her. Ysmay sighed and let her stiff arm fall to her side.

The eyes of those in the pillars were open, but they
were dull, dimmed. No longer was there that spark of
vigorous demand. Whatever they had tried had failed.

Still she could not leave them. The knife had failed,
and communication. With some vague hope of finding
assistance, she made her way among the pillars to those
tables she had sighted at her entrance.

They did not bear such utensils as she had seen be-
low. But stillat least on one tableshe did not like
what she saw.

On it stood a cup. The foot was amber, dark, cracked,
Worn and warped. Its bowl was of a gray-white ma-
terial. The interior was stained. Beside it, naked point
to the stars, was a knife, its hilt the gray of the bowl,
its blade Ysmay jerked away, for along the blade
crawled and writhed lines of red, as if runes of some
forbidden knowledge formed, vanished, ran again.

There was a book, laid open at midpoint. Its pages
were yellowed, wrinkled, inscribed with heavy black
lines of writing unlike any she had seen before. There
was one ornamented capital on each page, but not
wreathed by flowers like those in old chronicles. No,
here were two small scenes which brought a flush of
shame to her face as she looked upon them, so vile
were they, yet so ably done that they lingered hate-
fully in the mind.

Here also was an upright frame in which hung a bell
of discolored metal, and beside it the mallet which
would make it sound. Last of all was a candle-holder
so wrought that once more she flushed. The candle it
held was misshapen, beginning as one thick piece and
then subdividing into five thinner portions of unequal
length.

Evil hung so strongly here Ysmay could believe it
visible as a black cloud. She backed away, thus coming
to the second board. What lay there was different-
irregular lumps of amber new taken from bedding. She
thought she could even recognize those which had
been passed from hand to hand at Uppsdale. There
were few enough of them, very small showing com-
pared with the Wealth in those pillars.

The evil things, which Ysmay did not doubt were
used for black ensorcelment, the rough amber She
had seen enough to guess that Hylle wrought ill here.
And she was oath-tied to him!

Black indeed were the tales she had heard. There
were men reported to have dealings with the older
powers rooted here. Was Quayth a garden that brought
forth evil harvest?

On impulse Ysmay drew forth the amulet of Gun-
nora. The old shadowed ways were those which dealt
with death and destruction, but Gunnora stood for Me
and light. How much protection lay in her talisman,
Ysmay could not guess. But she felt stronger for hold-
ing it.

A table of amber lumps, another which was a shrine
to vile powers, and the prisoners in the pillars. Also
when Hylle returned what would be her fate? She tried
to think clearly and to some purpose.

This was a fateful night, one of the four within the
year when certain powers were loosed for good or ill.
Hylle had fared forth. What did he seek out in the
cold and the night? Some greater force than any he
could raise within these walls?

Ysmay turned once more to look upon the double
star of the pillars, the blue burning candles. Power was
locked herein. Why had she been able to pass freely
through any safeguard Hylle must have set? For such
places had their guards which humankind dared not
meddle with.

Was it a trap, and she had been allowed to walk in?
That she must test! Gripping Gunnora's amulet, Ysmay
hurried for the stairs, turning her face from the two

in the pillars as she passed. Down she went without
hindrance into the ground floor chamber-
Only to stop in fear. For the mirror on the wall re-
flected another form. It stood unmoving, neither, ad-
vancing to cut her off from the door, nor to seize her.

Horrible it was, but now she could see it was no
creature living, but rather a tall carving of amber,
wrought into demon form. Whence had it come? Who
had brought it here?

She sped past it to the door, gave a great push. To
her vast relief the door swung open readily and the
fresh cold air of night was like freedom itself.

Once more she rounded the walls and gained her
own tower. She slipped inside breathing quickly, look-
ing for Ninque or one of the wenches.

Emptythe coals on the hearth gave enough light to
make sure. Ysmay scuttled for the stairs, won to her
bedchamber, crossed to the window to look out. Had
any tracked her from the star tower? If so, they had
left no footprints in the snow that was now being
whirled about by a rising wind. With luck its shifting
would cover her path.

She sat down on the bed and tried to make sense
of all she had seen. Hylle had told her he was both
astrologer and alchemist. The second chamber of the
star tower, with all that clutter of equipment, could be
the work place of an alchemist. Such learning was in
the bonds of reason, though few of the Dalesmen had
it

But the top chamber Was different. Ysmay rubbed
her hands across her eyes, remembering far too well
that which lay on the first tablethe foul book, all the
rest. What was done there was not the result of straight-
forward learning.

As for the prisoners in the pillars, most had shown
no signs of life. But she had not lingered to examine
them closely. However, she was sure that the man and
the woman were held in some foul ensorcelment. She
must thinkif Hylle had the power to do that, what
chance had she against him?

She could creep out of Quayth perhaps this night

Creepto die of cold and exposure in the wilds. She
had no chance without supplies or plan to survive the
long journey back to the Dales. Sure death one way-
out to stay might mean worse than death. She must
chance that.

Ysmay laid aside her cloak, undressed, putting her
garments back in a chest so Ninque might not remark
them later. Then she crawled into bed, drawing tight
the curtains, so that she lay in a darkness which for
that moment felt safe. But the serpent was still on her
wrist. And around her neck Gunnora's charm.

Perhaps she slept. Afterward she could not remem-
ber. Then, as if someone had summoned her, she sat
up. The dark was gone. Instead there was dim twi-
light within the tent of the curtains. Somehow she
was able to see the pictures there.

Ysmay had thought their patterning had been given
only on the outer side, facing the room. But here they
glowed, as if their half-lost outlines were drawn in the
cold, clear light of starshine. They were of many kinds,
but notable among them was a face. The woman in
the pillar!

To her great surprise and fear, the lips writhed on
the face, as if a portrait worked with needle and thread
fought for speech. And Ysmay heard a small sound, like
a gasp for breath.

"The serpentkeykey"

The light faded, she could no longer see the face
as she sat hunched among the tumbled coverings. The
serpent was warm about her wrist, as if lit by an inner
fire.

"Key" Ysmay repeated aloud. Key to what? To be
found where? She pulled at the curtainshould she
return to the star tower? There was light in the cham-
ber, but it came from the dawn. Her chance was gone.
If she would make another invasion of Hylle's place
she must wait for nightfall.

The day was long and through it she played a tax-
ing role. Ninque brought forth feast dainties and also
stayed within call. While Ysmay busied her brain with
planning. She dared not try once more to drug Ninque's

cup, for she did not underestimate the woman, and to
issue another such invitation might awake her suspi-
cions. Was her usual attentiveness today a sign that she
was watching Ysmay for some purpose?

Her plans came to nothing because at dusk Hylle
and his men rode in. She watched them from the win-
dow, steeling herself against the need of fronting the
dark lord without revealing any unease.

To her relief he did not come directly to her, but
went to the star tower. Then her relief was quickly
gone as she wondered if her intrusion had left some
trace. That thing of amber before the mirrorwho-
ever had transported it there could well have seen her.

Ysmay twisted her hands together, her fingers seek-
ing the serpent band. A keyto what? She was like
one who had an invisible sword lying to hand yet could
not find it for her defense.

She drew on her powers of self-control. To seem as
usual she must work hard. She went down to the lower
chamber where Ninque was setting out the evening
meal.

"My lord has returned." Ysmay was surprised at the
steadiness of her voice.

Ninque looked up. "It is so. Do you wish to bid
him to your table, my lady?"

Ysmay nodded. "This is a feast night. If he is not
tired from his journeying, perhaps he will find some
small pleasure so. Can you send a message"

"I, myself, will go, my lady. He will wish to share
your feast." There was almost a note of authority in
that, as if Ninque could urge this on her master and
be obeyed.

Ysmay stood by the fire, facing the door, summon-
ing strength against this meeting. Hylle had been
strange enough, a person to evoke awe before. But
nownow that she suspected what he might do, could
she face him showing no measure of what she had
learned?

It seemed long, that wait until Ninque returned.
The woman, not shedding her cloak, said in her usual
soft and insinuating voice, "My lady, my lord has pre-

pared a feast for your tasting. He would have you
come"

Ninque did not finish her sentence. For Hylle en-
tered. There was a light powdering of snow on his
cloak and he carried over his arm another drapery of
silken material, the color of rich amber. This he shook
out to display a cloak with clasps of amber at throat
and waist.

"A fairing for my lady." He whipped it about Ysmay
before she could move. "And a feast waiting, so come,
let us be merry after the custom of your own people."

She could not avoid his grasp, he used the cloak as
a net to entrap her. But fear Was a cold thrust through
her, a sour taste in her mouth. She had wondered why
he wanted her, now she was about to learn and she
had no defense against him.

Yet he spoke lightly as he drew her with him across
the courtyard. They might have been truly man and
wife on their way to a happy hour. She dared not re-
veal her fear lest it weaken her past all hopes of try-
ing to save herself from whatever he planned.

They came into the room of the mirror. There was
more light there now, but that monster carving was
still in place, only now it faced them at the door.

Hylle's arm tightened about her. Had she betrayed
herself with a start? Or could her reaction be counted
normal at facing such ugliness?

Still keeping one arm firmly about her waist, Hylle
put forth his other hand. The thing moved, stretched
upward as might a cat to meet some caress, until his
fingers rested upon its spiked crest Butit must be
a carvingnot a living thing!

Ysmay heard Hylle's soft laughter. "Does this fright-
en you, my lady? Did I not warn you I was learned in
strange ways. And now you will see that I have strange
servants also. But I do not loose this one yet, it shall
play sentry for us. Come!"

She fought her fear. That he meant her very ill she
was now sure. Yet she had come from generations of
fighting men who held their lands against many perils,
or fought until death trying to do so.

Under the edge of the cloak he used to engulf and
hold her, she caught at the serpent. A keyto what?
However she schooled herself against vain hope as they
went up and up, past the room which was a work place,
into the chamber of pillars. And he pushed her before
him, saying:

"Welcome, my lady, to the heart of Quayth. Its se-
crets you have sought by stealth, now you shall find
them out. Though whether you shall relish your en-
lightenment is another question."

On he urged her between the pillars to the center,
then dragged her around to face the two there.

6

"You CALL YOURSELF Lady of Quayth, Ysmay of
the Dales. Look you now upon the true lady of this
hold, Yaal the Far-Thoughted. I wonder where her
thoughts now range, since she can travel by thought
alone. Wench, she is such as your upstart blood can-
not equal. Her rule was old before your people arose
from root-grubbing savages."

He looked upon Yaal as if he hated yet respected
her, with more emotion than Ysmay had seen in him
before.

"Yaalshe is such as cannot be dreamed of by your
ignorant breed. Just as Quayth, Quayth was once what
it shall be againsince I have file will and now the
tools to make it so.

"You gave me those, wench, for which thank that
small power you bow head to. Otherwiseyou would
be as a flea cracked between the nails and dropped
into the fire. For you brought me the seed from which
I shall grow much. Hear that, my Lady Yaal? Did you
dream that I had come to the end of my power when
my supply of amber was finished? If you did you un-
derestimated me and the greed of these Dale barbarians!

"I have amber again. Yes, and many strange uses for
it. Hear you that, Yaal!" And he held out his hand as if

to tap on the surface of the pillar, but did not quite
touch it.

Yaal's eyes were open but the girl could read no
message, not even a spark of life in them. Hylle's grip
loosened. Impulsively Ysmay shook back the hamper-
ing folds of the cloak, made a deep reverence to the
prisoner.

Hylle stared. "What do you, wench?"

"Did you not say she is lady here, my lord?" Ysmay
did not know what moved her, it was as if action and
words were dictated by another. "Then it is meet that
I pay her honor. And he" she turned her head to
nod at the other pillar"if she be lady, is he lord here?"

Hylle's face was convulsed. He struck out at her
viciously and she could not dodge the full force of
the blow. It sent her spinning against the pillar which
held the man and she clung to it to keep her feet.

In Hylle's hand there was now a glittering, golden
rope. He swung it loopwise as he mouthed words
which had no meaning for Ysmay. The loop whirled,
circled about her, fell to the floor. Then Hylle's face
was smooth, guarded. He had regained control.

"Bide my pleasure here, wench. It will be for a long
time. I go to prepare the means to assure that now."

He left, and Ysmay was bewildered. That shining
circle, now that she had time to examine it, was com-
posed of beads of amber strung on a chain. She could
not guess its purpose.

But Hylle was gone, and if the serpent was a key,
she must bestir herself to find the lock. She took a
step forward, to discover that she could not cross the
amber circle. It kept her as tightly prisoner as if she
were in a cage.

For a second or two she was as strongly held by
fear as by the chain. Then the strength of her breed
returned and she forced herself to think rather than
feel. It was plain that Hylle controlled great powers.
He kept these two captive, which meant that, as his
enemies, they were potential allies for her. If she could
enlist their aid-
The serpent was the key, but how to use it? Ysmay

looked at the woman, then the man. She stood be-
tween them, but closer to the man. Moistening her
lips with her tongue, she thought of keys and locks-
There was no visible lock, but then neither was the
serpent an ordinary key. Locksthe pillar people were
locked She shook back her sleeve, reached out her
arm until she could touch the serpent head to the am-
ber casing about the man.

Around her wrist was a blaze of fire which brought
a small, choked cry from her. But she held it fast.

The amber pillar began to change. From that small
point of contact it filmed, darkened to an ashy dull-
ness. Cracks appeared in it, ran in jagged lines, wid-
ened to fall in flakes. And the flakes on the floor pow-
dered into dust.

A tremor ran through the newly freed prisoner. She
saw his chest expand as he drew in a great breath. His
hands arose in small, jerky movements to his head,
slipped down over cheeks and chin as if he sought
thus to assure himself of his own being.

He did not look at her but rather stepped stiffly
from the pillar base and stood, his head turning from
side to side, as if he sought something which should
be in plain view and yet was not.

If he hunted some weapon, he was not to have time
for a thorough search.

From the stairhead came a rasping hiss. Ysmay cried
out. The monster thing from the lower chamber hunched
there, its hideous head darting as might a snake's seek-
ing to strike.

The man faced it with empty hands and Ysmay
thought he had little chance if the thing rushed him.
Yet he raised those hands and, using his two pointing
forefingers, he sketched in the air.

Glowing lines of light appeared, a grill of them cross-
ing and recrossing. Behind that strange barrier, he put
a partly clenched fist to his lips as if he held a trumpet,
and loosed a murmur of sound.

Ysmay could distinguish no words, only low croon-
ing notes repeated over and over. The monster paced
back and forth, its armored tail twitching in frustration,

the spines on its head erect. It edged among the pil-
lars, but kept a wary distance from the light. And still
the man crooned those three notes over and over again.

Then

From out of the air swooped a bolt of blue fire, the
ugly color of the candles. Seemingly heartened, the mon-
ster, too, surged forward, shaking its head from side
to side as if it advanced under a rain of blows.

The man showed no dismay. The sound of his mur-
muring voice grew stronger. There was more move-
ment in the chamber, beyond the candles, someone
sliding along the wall.

Ysmay, without seeing the pale face of that new-
comer, still knew it was Hylle. He was trying to reach
not the freed captive but

The table! That table where lay the instruments of
black sorcery. And it would seem that his former cap-
tive had not yet sighted him.

Ysmay would have cried aloud in warning, but she
found that she could not. It might have been the power
of the ring about her feet which also stifled the voice
in her throat. Yet she had been able to use the serpent
oncewhat else might she do with it?

She stretched forth her arm at an awkward angle so
that she might touch the yellow-eyed head to the cir-
clet about her. There was a flare of blue fire. She cried
out, using her hands to shield her face from the fierce
glow. There appeared to be no heat in the flames, only
blinding light.

The flash seemed to dim her sight. Tears ran down
her cheeks as she fought to see, though it was like
peering through a thick veil. She could not make out
even the shadow of Hylle.

She felt about her and touched the smooth surface
of that other pillar. If the serpent had freed the man,
why not Yaal? She laid the wristlet to the casing of
amber.

This time Ysmay could not see the result, but she
could feel the cracking, the crumbling. And the dust
of it sprinkled her hands, puffed about her body. There
was movement. Hands caught her, pulled her erect,

steadied her for an instant against a firm body. Then
both body and hands were gone.

Ysmay wiped her eyes, blinked. Yaal was moving
purposefully toward the table. Ysmay stumbled in her
wake. Her eyes were clearing. She could see.

The assault of blue flames continued. The monster
was now within the first row of pillars, weaving back
and forth, a wild slaver dripping from its jaws. Ysmay's
hand tightened around Gunnora's amulet.

Yaal reached the table, but Hylle was there, too.
They fronted each other. His face Was a mask of hate
and malice, his lips flattened against his teeth as if he
would show the same poisonous fangs the monster bore.

His hand flashed out, finger closing about the hilt
of the knife. He flicked the keen blade across his own
palm, tried to spill the quickly welling blood into the
encrusted cup. But Yaal raised her finger and pointed,
and straightaway the cut was closed into a seam of an
old scar. No blood, save for a drop or two, entered
the bowl.

"Not so, Hylle." Her voice was low, but it carried
above the hissing of the monster and the crooning that
kept it at bay. "Not even with your blood can you
summon"

"Tell me not what I may do!" he cried. "I am Hylle,
Master-"

Yaal shook her head. "Only because of our lack of
caution did you become Master. Your day is done,
Hylle."

She did not turn her head to look to Ysmay, but she
held out her right hand.

"Let the serpent come," she ordered.

Ysmay, as if she understood perfectly what was to
be done, raised her own hand. She felt the circlet come
alive. It streaked across her flesh to leap through the
air, fall into Yaal's palm, move so swiftly that it was a
blur, to encircle Yaal's wrist.

Hylle started forward as if to prevent the transfer.
But he was too late.

"Now." Yaal held up her hand. The serpent, though

in a hoop, was not inert. Its head swayed and its eyes
glowed with yellow fire.

Aphar and Stolla, Worum, awake!
What was once drunk, must be tongued.
What was wrought, you must unmake!
In the Name of

But that final word was no name, only a roaring and
a tumult in the room, which made Ysmay cry out and
cover her tormented ears.

The cup on the table began to whirl in a mad
dance. Hylle, with a cry, tried to catch it. The knife
fell from his grasp and leaped into the air, where it
dangled enticingly as he strove to lay hand upon it,
seeming to forget all else.

It bobbed and dangled, always just a fraction be-
yond his reach. As he scrambled after it Ysmay saw
there were no longer any flashes of blue fire, and that
the crooning sounds had a note of triumph.

The flying goblet brought Hylle well away from the
table, close to where those shattered pillars had stood.
Then he seemed to awake from whatever spell had
held him. He whirled about, crouched like a swords-
man about to leap at an enemy.

"No!" he cried out defiantly. He threw out an arm
as if to brush aside the cup and came soft-footed, with
so deadly a look that Ysmay shrank back, toward the
two tables. This time he did not try to reach those
instruments of evil. Instead his hands clutched at the
lumps of unworked amber.

"Yetyet" he screamed. Holding the amber, he
ran for the stairs. None tried to stop him. Instead Yaal
went to the table of evil. There stood the cup as if
it had never risen. The knife lay beside it.

Yaal gazed, her serpent-girdled hand extended. The
head of the creature still swayed from side to side.
It was as if she now memorized something of vast
importance. Then, as if she had come to a decision, she
turned again.

There was  less sound.  Ysmay looked around.  The

grille of light was dimming. And the monster had with-
drawn, snuffling and hissing, to the head of the stair.
Yaal joined her fellow prisoner.

"Let be. His mind is dosed. There can be only one
end, as we should have known long ago."

He dropped his hand from his lips and nodded. "He
made the choice, abide by it now he shall!"

But Yaal wore a look of faint perplexity. She glanced
right and then left.

"There is something else," she said slowly. "Do you
not feel it, Broc?"

He lifted his head as if to a wind and his nostrils
expanded to breathe the air.

"It is she!" For the first time he looked at Ysmay
as if she were a presence.

Now Yaal eyed her also.

"She is no creature of his, she has worn the serpent.
This is another power. Hylle deals in death, or life-in-
death. This is a power of life. What charm do you
hold, girl?"

Ysmay answered by holding out her hand so that
Gunnora's amulet might be seen. Yaal studied it for a
moment and then nodded.

"It has been long and long again since that device
has been seen at Quayth. The protection of Rathonna
Yes, to add to what he had, Hylle would want that
indeed."

The girl found her tongue. "But he did not take
it from me when he could have."

Yaal shook her head. "Such a thing of power must
come only as a gift. Taken by force it will turn against
its user. One does not deal lightly with Rathonna."

"I do not know the name. This is an amulet of Gun-
nora."

"What is a name?" Yaal asked. "Certain powers have
always been known and given different names by dif-
ferent peoples. I recognize that as coming from Rath-
onna. Of old she did not turn her face from us, but
was willing to lend her aid when the need arose.
If Hylle thought to use Her"

Broc interrupted. "You know Hylle, he would think

himself above any threat of reprisal, or else scheme
how he could turn it to his own advantage. As he
schemes now. Yaalas he schemes now!"

"The stars have come full turn, and the serpent is
ready to strike. I do not think Hylle either schemes
nor stirs his great pot to any purpose this night. Now
is the hour for us to make an end."

Together they walked toward the stairhead, Ysmay
trailing them. She would not stay alone in this haunted
place.

The monster hissed. It had flattened its body to the
floor and its red eyes were fixed on them. Broc made
a pass of hand through the air and between his fingers
he now held a sword.

No light reflected from any steel. The blade had no
cutting edge, but was ruddy brown and carved as if
from wood. However, seeing it, the monster slunk
away. It hissed and spat, retreating steadily. Thus they
came down to Hylle's workshop, where noxious fumes
were heavy.

In the center was a fire in a stone-lined pit. From
a crossbar over the fire hung a giant pot into which
Hylle was flinging handfuls of objects from a nearby
bench. As he filled the pot so he chanted, paying no
attention to those who came.

"Are his wits turned?" Broc asked. "Surely he must
know that this will not work again."

"Oh, but it will!" Yaal held up her arm. The yellow
eyes of the snake glowed, grew larger, larger, became
a single orb, a sun hanging in the dark room. The
monster gave a bubbling scream.

It raced across the floornot toward the three by
the stair, but for its master. At the same time the amu-
let flamed in Ysmay's hand. The color it gave off was
green, and its light rippled and lapped across the floor,
speeding to the pit.

The green flood boiled over the lip but did not
douse the flames, merely set them leaping higher. Now
they were green flames.

Ysmay heard the break in Hylle's chant. He screamed
as the monster reached him. They writhed together,

tottered and fell forward, still entwined, into the bub-
bling pot.

Instantly the orb was gone, the green flames died.
In the pot a liquid seethed quietly just below the rim,
and there was no way of seeing below the surface.

Dawn and a new day. Ysmay leaned against the outer
Wall of the star tower. It was hard to believe that she
could breathe the fresh winter air after the fumes of
the tower and its stench of evil. That she had sur-
vived the night past was a miracle. For the moment
she was content with that alone.

Then Yaal's hand was on her arm and they were
three in the courtyard with the gray sky above them.

"It is changed, sad changed," Yaal said. "This is not
Quayth as it should be."

"It can be changed again," Broc said briskly. "That
which ate its heart is gone. And We have the future"

What of Ysmay? She was not Lady of Quayth, nor
had ever been. Would she now ride to Uppsdale, even
less than she had been before?

"I was Hylle's wife," she said slowly. "It was by my
own choice that I came to Quayththough I knew not
what he wasyet I took this path without protest."

"And so were the saving of us all." Broc looked at
her. His face with its resemblance to Hylle moved
her in a way she did not understand. Nohe was not
Hylle, rather what an untried girl once thought Hylle
might be. "Nor were you Hylle's wife," he continued,
"nor his creatureif you had been, you could not have
worn the serpent, or stood with us this night."

"Say not Hylle's wife, but rather Rathonna's daugh-
ter!" Yaal's voice had almost the tone of an order. "Many
and strange are the weavings of fortune. We are of an
old people, we of Quayth, and we have learning which
has given us powers the ignorant grant to godlings.
Yet we are also of human kind in many ways. That is
why we can have such as Hylle among us. They are
of our own brood. Hylle wanted to master certain pow-
ers it was not right to meddle with"

"He wanted more," Broc broke in. "He wanted"

"Me? Perhaps, but rather he wanted what he thought
he could gain through me. And he was strong, too
strong then, for us, though we did what we could"

"Like hiding the serpent?" Ysmay asked.

"Like that. But the waiting was long until one would
come who could use it, Rathonna's daughter. You say
you are not Lady of Quayth, but do not say that again!
Hylle wished to use you to gain the true amber he
must have to build the false he used for dark pur-
poses. For the false must always have a grain of the
true within it. He wished to use you, but you were
not for him. Be proud and glad, daughter of Rath-
onna."

"Welcome to Quayth," Broc added. "And this time
a true welcome, doubt not that!"

Nor did Ysmay then, or ever. Though whether she
was the Ysmay of Uppsdale in those after days, or some-
one much changed by fate, she sometimes wondered.
Not that it mattered for Quayth's welcome was warm
enough to content her.

Nor did she need to go into that shunned tower and
look upon a lump of miswrought amber in which man
and monster stood locked in endless embrace, to re-
mind herself of what lay behind.

