THE SEVEN TOWERS 02
THE WIZARD AT HOME
Rick Shelley

PROLOGUE

This world once knew twenty gods, the sons and daughters of one couple. Their parents were so wrapped up in each other that they neglected their children, and the brothers and sisters turned to quarreling with each other. In time, the quarrels turned violent, deadly. The gods looked for allies, and for followers. At various times, one or another of the Twenty would look with favor on one of the religions created by men, and lend it his, or her, favor, giving power to that religion, molding it, and being molded by it in return. And using it.

In the Year of Our Lord twelve hundred and seven, Rome called a Crusade, not against the Saracens but against Christian heretics in France. The White Brotherhood, long the dominant order of the orthodox Roman Church, rose to defend itself against the heresy of the Blue Rose, centered in the Burgundy region of France. People and towns were burned, but the evil of the Blue Rose was not totally extinguished. It merely went underground, biding its time, preparing for a comeback. And a comeback was possible. The Blue Rose had the power of gods behind it, an alliance of five gods of the eighteen who remained of the Twenty. But the White Brotherhood also had gods behind it. Mikel, the Unseen Lord of the Mysteries of the White Brotherhood, had taken the Roman Church under his sway at the time of Constantine. Church and god had accommodated themselves to each other over the years. Mikel's sway was never seriously challenged by any of his siblings until the growth of the Blue Rose.

The Crusade in Burgundy did not end that conflict, though Mikel and his allies hoped it had. Thirty-one years later, in 1238, in the month of August, a great battle was fought among the gods and their armies. This battle was the culmination of the war for the domination of the Christian Church in Europe, a battle without mercy. In one horrendous confrontation that stretched from mother earth to the land of the gods, the heretics were destroyed, root and branch, leaving only powerless remnants behind. The Blue Rose would not rise again. The victory of Mikel and his allies was complete.

In my solitude, I shed tears for all who died in the battle that was centered on the village of Mecq. Gods, mortals, demigods, and demons died in the fighting. The roster of the old gods was shortened by a third. The dead included Carillia, who had long been the most gentle and loving of the gods.

Had the horror of Mecq sufficed to end the ages of deadly feuding among the divine siblings, it would have been a brutal but perhaps—ultimately—worthwhile lesson. But there was no sign that the deities would take that lesson. If anything, their bitterness toward each other, and toward the parents who had abandoned them in disgust and self-reproach, increased. For a time, they might lick their wounds and spare the mortal world their deadly conflict, but I had little hope that any respite would last long.

Pessimist that I was and am, I still had no idea that the fighting would resume even before the wounds of Mecq had time to heal. The old war had ended, but the seeds of a new conflict had already been sown.

CHAPTER ONE

The battle was over. A dirty haze hung low over the village of Mecq—smoke and steam, wispy and malodorous, smelling of rotten eggs and rotting flesh—but the sun would soon cut through the fog. Even in the smoky haze, the promise of a rainbow could be seen. Life would go on.

The Wizard Silvas, spearpoint of the battle for the White Brotherhood, had been one of the gravely wounded, brought to the church of Mecq unconscious, with the rest of the wounded. And the dead. It had been difficult to tell that he was yet alive.

Silvas regained consciousness and began chants of healing for himself. In his weakened state, it would be a long and difficult magic. Then he noticed Carillia at his side, and he saw that her injuries were worse than his own. A goddess she might be, but she was dying.

"You have always been my heart," Carillia whispered to him. Maria Devry, the daughter of the dead thane of Mecq, helped support Silvas as he rolled over onto his side, closer to Carillia. Maria was still holding Silvas when Carillia kissed him and infused him with her divinity. A bright white light illuminated all three of them, and the gift also passed into Maria.

When the light faded, Carillia was dead, as were many others. Silvas could not change that. But the divine power she had given him let him heal all of the wounded. That done, Silvas's work in Mecq was finished.

Silvas and Maria descended the steps of the church hand in hand, linked for all time by the gift of Carillia, and walked toward the column of smoke that concealed the entrance to the wizard's castle.

A week in Mecq had aged Silvas visibly. There were new wrinkles in his face. His eyes—dark gray, almost black, with flecks of lighter color—seemed to have sunk deeper in his face. He looked more gaunt than before. In his present weakness, he looked almost frail despite his brawny, muscled body. His hair, now wet, looked a dirty brown. A bath would bring back the lighter brown, streaked with sun-bleached blond.

Maria had been changed as well, not by a week of trial, but by the instant in which Carillia's divinity had flooded over her and Silvas. Her dark bluish-gray eyes had a new depth to them, a look of wisdom rare in one of only sixteen years. Although she was nearly a foot shorter than Silvas, she gave the impression of being nearly as tall, even when they stood next to each other. On their first meeting, Silvas had thought Maria attractive in a wholesome, rural way. Now she carried herself with a new poise that seemed to have turned her into a beauty. While Silvas seemed hunched over by the burdens he had carried, Maria stood straight and tall. Her features were delicate and pleasant, her hair a glossy dark brown.

Silvas and Maria had not yet had time to digest the gift they had received from Carillia, but they could feel the new divinity they shared, an intimacy that might take years to fully explore. It was as if much of Silvas's experience and... maturity had passed into Maria.

Though the Glade, Silvas's castle, was hundreds of miles from Mecq, it was also as close as the pillar of smoke that stood in the village green. Carillia's body was borne before Silvas and Maria by an honor guard that had come out of the castle: equal numbers of gurnetz, Braf Goleg and his lupine soldiers; and esperia, Koshka and his porcine kindred. Bay, Silvas's immense, sentient horse and counselor, and Bosc, Bay's esperia groom and also counselor to the wizard, followed Silvas and Maria toward the pillar of smoke.

The people of Mecq and the churchmen who had gathered to help battle the Blue Rose watched the slow procession in silence, honoring the sacrifice of Carillia. Knowledge of her divinity was just beginning to circulate among the villagers.

Silvas and Maria stopped to look at the people standing in front of the church. Bosc and Bay went around them, following Carillia and her honor guard into the pillar of smoke. Silvas raised a hand, as if in benediction. He thought to say some final words, but could find no appropriate message. After a moment, he took Maria's hand again and they passed through the smoke, out of Mecq, and into the Glade, also known as the Seven Towers.

The brightly colored birds of the Seven Towers, each a single brilliant hue, came to greet Maria and Silvas... and to sing their dirges over Carillia. Maria and Silvas stopped in the courtyard, as had the others.

"My mind is numb," Maria told Silvas as she watched the birds caper overhead. They seemed to show all of the colors of the rainbow, one color to a bird. Their song reached inside to touch the souls of those who heard it, both celebration and requiem.

"I know how you feel." As the words came out, Silvas realized how vast an understatement they represented. He knew how she felt because, with only the least effort, he could share that feeling intimately. The new linkage between them unified them so completely that the experiences of one could scarcely be escaped by the other.

"The word is apotheosis," Silvas continued, answering a question she had not voiced. "We share Carillia's final gift, her godhood."

"It was meant only for you," Maria said with uncommon meekness. Although she had never heard the word "apotheosis" before, she knew what it meant, the elevation of a mortal to godhood. But, so far, it was all just words. Nothing in her life had prepared her for this gift.

"I'm not so certain," Silvas said, straightening up, stretching, recovering yet from what had passed before. "I think that nothing Carillia ever did was accidental."

"Even at the last extreme?" Maria asked.

"Even so." Silvas stared at her with a new intensity. Until that moment in the church when Carillia's dying kiss had united them, Silvas had considered Maria something of a nuisance. Her importunate fantasies had been embarrassing. Now they shared something that so overwhelmed the past that Silvas looked at her as if he were seeing her for the first time. She no longer looked as young as she had on their first meeting, scarcely a week before. An eternity of divine past and their strange union had matured her beyond all mortal reckoning.

"I think Carillia knew precisely what she was doing," Silvas said.

The stretcher with Carillia's body was carried inside the keep of the Seven Towers. She would be taken to the long parlor just off of the great hall, the room where Auroreus, Silvas's mentor and predecessor, had been laid out following his death—centuries before.

"I wish there had been time for me to know her better," Maria said.

"She is within us, there for us to know, to share," Silvas replied.

Maria was shocked to find her mind suddenly drawn within, startled to see Carillia there, smiling at her with affection and—perhaps?—a touch of pity. Maria blinked rapidly, forcing herself back out of the pit of her mind. She looked up at Silvas.

"You see?" he asked. Maria simply nodded.

Bay and Bosc, visible extremes, remained nearby. The horse was a giant of his kind, remarkable even apart from his intelligence and gift of language. Bosc was scarcely three feet tall, his features more those of a pig than a human. Silvas's eyes met those of Bay and Bosc in turn, lingered on each, felt the sorrow they all shared.

"I know not what comes now," Silvas said. "My heart is too full for clear thought. For now..."

He suddenly stopped talking and strode across the courtyard. Maria moved with him as if they were yoked together, though she had difficulty matching his long strides. Bay and Bosc needed a moment to react, to follow. Silvas drew the ornately handled dagger from his belt. Near the curtain wall, Silvas scratched a series of lines on the stone pavement—a rectangle, 40 feet long and extending 25 feet from the wall into the bailey. The hastily scribed lines were as perfect as the lines were when he drew a magical pentagram.

"I will raise a tomb, a shrine, here for Carillia," Silvas announced. "The finest stone from the Durin quarry. We'll hire masons from York. I want a fitting memorial."

"We'll build a shrine, of course," Maria said, her soft voice a compelling contrast to Silvas's bolder tones, "but her true memorial is within us. Her memorial will be what we do with her gift."

Silvas and Maria stared at each other, wordless communication taking place that the others were excluded from. After a moment, Silvas nodded. "We will be her other memorial." He had no idea yet what that might entail, but he realized that his old task was finished. I have fulfilled my vow to the Unseen Lord of the White Brotherhood.

"Lord, look above," Bosc said, his voice low but quavering.

Silvas quickly looked at the sky. "What?" he asked when he saw no immediate threat.

"The sun." Bosc pointed. Silvas saw what was wrong even as Bosc spelled it out. "It's in the wrong place. That's the north."

When Maria and Bay looked up as well, Silvas pointed to a spot in the sky to the left of where the sun actually was and said, "This time of the afternoon, the sun should be there."

Where is the threat? Silvas demanded of himself. Who attacks the sun? Long-standing habit brought spells of defense and seeking to his lips. His mind sought the sky, but he was startled by the facility of his leap skyward—so sudden that he consciously willed it to slow. His senses tuned to an unprecedented fineness, Silvas sought any threat behind the unnatural placement of the sun and found none. Though his body remained standing in the courtyard of the Glade, Silvas had vision and hearing in the spirit far above the Seven Towers. He felt Maria's mind there with him, locked to his. Together, they searched through a complete circle, but there was no hint of any enemy.

"I have no idea what the cause is," Silvas said when his awareness returned to his body. He did not add the "yet"; that was implicit. He would find the answer, somehow.

"Someone should be assigned to watch how the sun now moves through its course," Bay suggested, his deep voice rumbling even when he spoke softly. He tossed his head. "This is most peculiar."

"Yes," Silvas agreed. "I'll have Braf put a man to it straightaway." Braf, who looked as much like a wolf as Bosc looked like a pig, had gone on into the keep with the others. "But I can't feel the threat of it."

Bay snorted. "Likely that will become apparent in time."

Silvas continued to stare into the sky, careful not to look directly at the sun. You know the danger of that, he reminded himself. As a young apprentice new to the wizard's gift of telesight, he had once tried to look directly into the heart of a star and had nearly had the eyes burned out of his head. Auroreus, his teacher, had cured the burns and warned him, "Some visions are denied even to the gods." More than any other, Silvas had taken that lesson to heart.

"It will wait," Silvas said in a voice that was little more than a thought. "For now, we have Carillia to attend to." Carillia. They had shared centuries together with the Seven Towers. And for all our love, I never really knew you, he lamented.

"We might as well go inside," he said.

"Since there is nothing else to be accomplished here," Bay commented sotto voce, but there was none of the harshness of his usual irony. The horse waited to make sure that Silvas had no riposte, then turned and started toward the mews. Bosc trotted at his side, leaving Silvas and Maria alone.

"Your love for her ran very deep," Maria whispered.

"Much deeper than my knowledge of her," Silvas said. The words gave shape to an ache that had been developing since he first saw Carillia on the floor of the church in Mecq.

"Greater knowledge would have put impossible dams around that love," Maria said.

Silvas did not try to refute her observation. Its truth did little but increase his pain. "Let's go inside." He took Maria's hand again and they entered the keep together.

There was considerable activity inside. Many of the castle staff were in or around the great hall, far more than would normally be there, except at mealtime. A human servant brought wine for Silvas and Maria. They sipped at it while Silvas surveyed the room. Maria also looked around. It was only her second time in the castle; she still looked at everything as a stranger.

"It feels as if this place is but an extension of you," she said after several minutes.

Silvas took a moment to consider that. "In many ways, it is. It's been my home for centuries."

They were too closely linked for that to startle Maria. "It seems to pulse with the beating of your heart," she said.

Silvas's attention kept returning to one doorway on the left side of the great hall. Maria realized that Carillia lay beyond it.

"Koshka will be seeing to her," Silvas said. Although his strongest impulse was to go to Carillia immediately, he decided, "I'll wait for his word." Everything continues to function. In a way, that realization hurt, as if everything should come to a chaotic halt in the wake of Carillia's death.

"How long will it take to get the masons from York?" Maria asked, hoping to turn his attention with a practical question.

"It's a week's ride there, even on Bay," Silvas said.

"We may not need to ride such distances now," Maria said. That drew Silvas's attention fully.

"That's true. We no longer have such limitations." All knowledge is there, once I look for it, Silvas marveled. Most knowledge, he amended. There were limits even for a god, but he was uncertain where those new boundaries might lie.

It was several minutes before Koshka appeared in the doorway on the left side of the great hall, then came across to Silvas.

"I have done what I may, lord," Koshka said, bowing his head.

"Thank you, Koshka," Silvas replied. "Everyone waits to pay their respects?"

"Aye, lord, but they will wait for you. I've sent word to the village as well. The lady Carillia was loved by all in our valley."

"I know." With Silvas preoccupied by his travels around England, and occasionally beyond, for the Unseen Lord, Carillia had been more in evidence at the Glade than he for all of the centuries they had shared.

"With your leave, they will also come to say their farewells," Koshka said.

"Of course." The ache of sharing Carillia with so many would have to be borne.

"Will you go in now, lord?" Koshka asked.

Silvas hesitated before he nodded. Maria took his arm and they crossed the great hall. Silvas paused before he opened the door and went into the long parlor. The room was not dark. Two tall windows let in light. There were also torches along the walls, and candle stands at either end of the bier. The simple wooden frame was covered with soft jade green silk. Carillia lay atop it, dressed in her finest gown. It was the same brilliant emerald green as her eyes, now closed forever.

"Her beauty is not bated the least whit," Maria whispered.

"She could almost be but sleeping, ready to wake at any instant." Silvas forced the words past the intense pain they provoked.

"Her memories will be with us always," Maria said. Though she had known Carillia only briefly, and superficially, in life, all of Carillia's past was there within Maria's mind now. She is part of me, or I am part of her, Maria thought. There was no wonder in that, not yet.

Two tall chairs, of wood so dark with age that it was almost black, stood between the bier and the far wall. Silvas's tiger-sized house cats, Satin and Velvet, stood vigil over their fallen mistress. They had the colors and markings of Siamese cats, but despite their size, they were indeed pets. And more. They looked toward Silvas and Maria but did not move.

"Give me a moment," Silvas said. When he crossed to Carillia, Maria remained by the door.

Silvas stopped three paces from Carillia and stared at her face with an intensity that might have suggested that he harbored some deep fantasy that she might indeed only be sleeping. Her face had always looked serene, but now it was as static as marble—and as cold.

"You are truly dead, my love," Silvas whispered, almost choking over the grief his words produced. "I never thought this day would come, that I would stand and mourn you. I always feared that it would be the other way, that you would survive me."

He walked to Carillia's side and leaned over just enough to let his fingers brush her cheek. It was cold, as he had known it would be.

"Where are the words?" he whispered. It took a considerable application of will to hold firm, to keep the flood of emotion dammed within him.

"Maria?" Silvas extended his right hand. Maria came to him, and they took their seats behind the bier.

"Koshka," Silvas said, as softly as he had spoken before. A moment passed before the door opened. Koshka looked in, his face and manner tentative, as if he had not truly heard the summons.

"It is time," Silvas said. "Let our people come."

"Aye, lord."

Koshka ducked back out of the room. When he returned, he walked to the bier and stood by Carillia for a minute, lifting his head to share a look with his lord before he walked to the side of the room, to stand under the windows. There was a line of people at the door. In the next hour, everyone who lived and worked within the walls of the Seven Towers came. Even Bay made the pilgrimage, with Bosc at his side. By the time the last of the castle staff had filed through the room, the first of the people from the village had arrived. Carillia had been their lady as well, and a favorite for untold generations. The sun had set before the last of the villagers filed past her. Bay, Bosc, Koshka, and Braf Goleg returned then, to stand in vigil for a few minutes more.

Then Maria stood, sensing Silvas's need to be alone with Carillia. For an instant, she stood with her hand on Silvas's shoulder. "We will wait for you," she said.

"It may be some time," he replied absently, his attention focused almost totally on Carillia. "I have a lot to deal with here."

"I know." Maria gestured to the others, and they all filed out of the room, except for the cats. Satin and Velvet would not surrender their positions.

Before Maria closed the door, she looked across at Silvas. "No matter how long it takes," she said.

CHAPTER TWO

As soon as Silvas was alone with Carillia and the cats, he got up and snuffed half of the candles and all of the torches in the long parlor. He used his fingers to snuff the candles, but dousing the torches with a thought was an old magic. Even before he received Carillia's final gift, Silvas had been able to see in almost total darkness, as readily as the cats could. Now, Silvas suspected that he needed no light at all. But he left some lights burning because total darkness might invite interruption.

"We don't need so much brightness, do we, my love?" Silvas stood over Carillia and looked at her face. "In any case, there's no light that can penetrate the darkness in my heart, now that you're gone."

A deep sigh forced its way out of Silvas's mouth. He knelt at Carillia's side and grasped her shoulders. Slowly, he bent over her face and kissed her cold lips with a passion that suggested that he might be trying to call her back to life. There was no resilience to Carillia's lips, but Silvas was beyond noticing. His emotional dam overflowed and burst, and grief poured through. Tears and deep, wrenching sobs shook his body and soul. His teardrops fell on her face and ran down her cheeks, making it look as if she too were crying.

Silvas lost awareness for a time that could not be measured in hours, minutes, and seconds. It was a fraction of eternity, and any fraction of an infinite is infinite. He scarcely breathed during this time that was not time. His heart was almost as silent as Carillia's. "You have always been my heart," she had told him just before she died. Now, for one last time, they were intimately together.

The oblivion could not last, though Silvas might not have sorrowed had it endured beyond the final judgment. Slowly, awareness returned to him—the silence of the room, a soft draft that touched his cheek, the press of the stone floor against his knees, the unnatural coldness of the dead goddess he held. His eyes ached. He had gone long without blinking, and the flow of tears had long since stopped, leaving his eyes dry. He blinked over and over until moisture returned. Then he took a deep breath and became fully part of his body again.

"Carillia." Silvas kissed her lips again, softly, briefly. Then he released his hold on her, stood, and took a long, slow breath. He turned slowly, scanning the room. Nothing had changed. Satin and Velvet remained where they had been, moving rarely and little. Each cat met Silvas's eyes in turn, one blinkless stare meeting another, as if sharing understanding.

Silvas paced for hours, making uncounted circuits of the room, scarcely watching where he was going. He did not even stare at Carillia's body all of the time. Mostly, his gaze was vacant, unfocused. His thoughts had moved inside his mind, leaving his body to find its own way around the room. Outside, night had fallen. The village was asleep. Few people stirred even within the Seven Towers—sentries on the walls, a few domestics who had not yet gone to bed. Koshka was with Maria; Bosc was with Bay.

As the night progressed, Silvas's pacing slowed. Coherent thoughts started to intrude on the pastel softness of the kaleidoscope in his head. He returned to his chair behind the bier and lowered himself to it again.

Carillia. Merely a thought this time. Silvas looked at her face. He could no longer shut out his memories, but the most intense emotion had been drained away. The ache was bated, leaving only a background emptiness that affirmed what Silvas would have instinctively claimed: You're gone, but I will never forget you.

Silvas could recognize no physical difference between himself as he sat looking at Carillia now and himself as he had been when he first saw her, more than 400 years before. His image of self was constant. The differences were in experience and attitude. The latter had been shaped largely by Carillia. Silvas smiled, and the memories took possession of him.

—|—

Britain had been a backwater in the early years of the ninth century following the birth of Christ, of scant importance to any but a few of its own inhabitants. The world was being shaped in far distant venues, in the spreading world of Islam, in virtually unknown Cathay, and—nearer at hand—in the German and Frankish kingdoms to the east and south. The British peninsula was contended over by Angles, Saxons, Picts, and Celts. The Norse onslaught that would drive the tribes and kingdoms of the peninsula to unite had not quite begun in earnest. There were forays, from time to time, but the Viking scourge was only beginning. In some of the old towns, there were still traces of the old Roman way of life, but decayed, and the last Roman-style warlord had been gone for more than a century. Christianity was a religion of the towns; it had no sure hold in the countryside. Druidism and other tribal religions still flourished, too far from Rome or any other seat of Christian power to fear systematic persecution.

Silvas had been riding his circuit for generations of men even then. He had known the brief glory of Camelot, though he had steered clear of the Cornish castle as much as possible. Merlin had been a touchy sorcerer, far too willing to challenge any other power who came too close to his stronghold in the far northwestern district of the peninsula. Avoid entanglements had been Auroreus's advice, and it had become so natural to Silvas that he rarely questioned it. "I have an oath I have sworn," he occasionally reminded himself in those days, whenever the temptation came to take time to himself. "I must stay fit for whatever my Unseen Lord may require of me."

It was a spring day, spent riding from nowhere to nowhere, as the days always were. Perhaps the skies seemed bluer, the forests greener, in memory.

Silvas whistled tunelessly as he rode through the seemingly endless forests that separated the villages of the midlands, his mind flitting from image to sound and back. Bay followed a rough track that could by no means be described as a road. Three hours before, they had come out of the pillar of smoke that connected them to the Glade. Silvas had uttered the words that dissipated the smoke, and the day's ride had begun. When the branching of the path gave alternatives, Silvas took whichever way seemed right. He had no idea where he was bound. As usual, he simply followed the call of the moment. Eventually, in a few days or many, he would come to some village or town that needed his services. He always did.

Overgrown thickets pressed together, almost closing off the path. On both sides, Silvas's legs were scratched by thorns as Bay threaded his bulk through the narrow opening.

"They prick me as well," Bay grumbled when Silvas cursed the sharp stabs.

"But your hide is much thicker than mine," Silvas rejoined.

"Then you should have asked to be born a horse," Bay told him, his voice pitched too sourly for a jest.

"I have problems enough as it is," Silvas said.

Just beyond the thicket, the path turned sharply left, sloping down into the shallow valley of some creek that Silvas and Bay could hear and smell but not yet see. The thicket continued along the left, between them and the water. To the right, the trees started to thin out, marginally. For the last hour, the forest canopy had been almost unbroken. Now, they could see an occasional patch of clear sky.

And they heard music.

Silvas pulled gently on the reins, one of the rare occasions when he used the leather to direct Bay, and the giant horse stopped. Silvas leaned forward and rested his forearms on the saddle boss, listening to the clear tones of a solitary singer.

"An angel, by the sound," Silvas murmured after a moment. Bay snorted and shook his head, not necessarily in negation, but more in mock disgust at Silvas's words.

"We can at least try to espy this angel with the heavenly voice," Silvas said, paying not the least heed to Bay's sarcasm.

"Are you certain you want to take that chance?" Bay demanded, lowering his voice now that there seemed to be an outsider somewhere close. "You might wish that you had gone on without seeing the face that belongs to the voice. She might favor a toad, or something even more repulsive."

"Never, not with a voice like that," Silvas said. "The gods could never be so cruel."

"Have you learned nothing, then?" Bay demanded, his voice almost bitter, but he did start walking, following the trail toward the voice.

For several minutes, the singing seemed to get no nearer. Silvas even dared to imagine that it might belong to some formless sprite, teasing him with such promise, staying always just ahead. But then the voice got stronger, the music clearer, almost magical in its purity.

"She might weave a mighty spell with that music, whoever she is," Silvas said.

"I think she already has," Bay replied, very softly.

"Perhaps. Hurry, I want to find her before the song ends."

Bay picked up his pace, his ears bent to follow the sound. The singing seemed to come from the other side of the thicket that blocked their way on the left side of the path.

The thicket ended suddenly, but deceptively, leaning out into the path first, as if to block it completely, but then disappearing. To the left, Bay and Silvas saw a thin stream running clear and fast over a bed of stones. Beyond the creek was a small clearing, and in the clearing, a young woman was sitting on the grass only a few feet from the water, weaving garlands of wildflowers while she sang.

She stopped singing and looked up at them. Even though she was thirty yards away, Silvas was struck immediately by the glory of her brilliant emerald green eyes. He did not even need his telesight for that. Those eyes reached out and trapped his heart instantly. The woman's beauty appeared uncommon at a distance, and she looked ever more lovely the closer Silvas came.

"I hope I didn't startle you," he said gently, when he could find his voice. "I heard your singing, and I had to see who had such an exquisite voice." Bay halted at the edge of the creek, giving the young lady plenty of room in case the sudden arrival of a lone man on a gigantic horse frightened her to flight.

"I often come to sing in the forest," she said, showing not the slightest trace of fear. Even when she was merely talking, there was music in her voice. Her hair was a rich auburn, with strong hints of red where the sun touched it. She was dressed in shades of brown and green, as if she truly belonged to the forest.

"Then you rob crowds of great pleasure, my lady," Silvas said. "I am known as Silvas. I am a wizard in service to our Unseen Lord."

"You don't look like a wizard," the young lady challenged. "You aren't old and wrinkled, with long white hair and an evil look of power about your eyes."

"Not all power is evil, my lady, and not all wizards are old, or look it."

"Are you come to lay me under an enchantment?"

"If there is any enchantment here, you have already laid it on me," Silvas said, with as deep a bow as he could manage from the saddle.

"Would you dare to have lunch with me here?" the lady asked—and she was clearly a lady, of gentle station. "I have plenty of food, and a good vintage to help it down—if you do not fear to come deeper into my web."

"If there is a web, it already holds me fast." Silvas dismounted and waded across the creek. The water was not deep enough to overtop his boots.

"My name is Carillia," she said as Silvas came out of the water. "I don't place your accent. You are a stranger here."

"I could say the same for you, my lady. But, as for me, I am a stranger everywhere. As I said, I ride circuit for my Unseen Lord."

"Then we have nothing to fear from each other." Carillia's smile gave Silvas shivers, but not from fear—most certainly not from fear.

The picnic lunch turned into an all-day affair. When the sun started to get low in the west, Silvas took the chance of calling in the pillar of smoke that would give him access to the Seven Towers. Carillia accepted his invitation to visit. And she had never left him.

Until now.

—|—

Silvas leaned back in his chair in the long parlor and stretched at great length. For a time, he had managed to forget the pain of his loss. But when the memories of his first meeting with Carillia receded, the pain returned, dulled and a little more bearable, but still there. He looked at Carillia's body, trying to fix their best times together in his mind as a wall against the agony of her death.

"I know that's what you would want," he whispered. "You always tried to ease my burden. You took far more upon yourself than I ever realized." He listened for her voice within him, uncertain that it might actually be there, still disappointed when he did not hear her reply to him, even in thought.

"What fate has done to us," he said. "I always thought that if I survived the great task that our Unseen Lord had prepared me for, you and I would have ages to relax and truly enjoy our love. I could still go out and do my wizardry, whenever my conscience would give me no peace, but there would be no exceptional danger to that, and I could keep it modest. I thought."

He went silent then. There were new voices within him, a faint babble of strangers that might have been at an incredible distance. No one voice was strong enough to dominate the rest and make itself heard, though.

"I have so much to learn," Silvas said, no longer looking directly at Carillia. His eyes slid closed, slowly. There was something he could not put off any longer, but he was uncertain what that something might be.

"Eyru, reygu olduvia. Eyru, sprath kevry." The words of the incantation came to his lips without bidding, a spell of defense for himself and for the Seven Towers. Silvas discerned no particular threat, but still the words of the spell forced themselves into being. Silvas's head started to spin. He felt an almost familiar sensation of being pinned in his chair, unable to move if he had wanted to.

He could do nothing but flow with the demand.

—|—

Silvas stood alone, in a dark place with nothing to mark its dimensions or location. He could hear a hollowness around him that emphasized the slow rasping of his breath.

I can't even tell if I've been here before, he thought. Since he could normally see in almost total darkness, it occurred to him that there might be nothing here to see. He took one step forward, then took it back. Similarly, he took one pace in each of the other primary directions, always returning to his original spot. That was the only anchor he had.

At last, he spotted a single point of light, tiny and distant, less than a pinprick against the utter blackness that surrounded him. He did not see the point of light appear, but he thought that it had not been there just an instant before. He stared long enough to convince himself that the light was no mere mirage brought on by his sudden isolation, then he extended his vision to use his telesight, but even that did not bring definition to the light. He walked slowly toward it, sliding his feet along the unseen, undefined surface of this nightmare, counting each measured step so he would know how far he might have to walk to return to his starting point.

Silvas counted out one hundred paces, then stopped. The point of light appeared no closer than before. Silvas took another measured hundred paces, then stopped again. There was still no apparent difference to the light.

"This isn't the way," he whispered, or thought. He was uncertain which. He did not resume the walk. "More light, that's what I need, figuratively as well as literally." He blinked repeatedly, delving into himself.

I must have the answer somewhere within me, he reasoned. I am not as I was before. I have more resources than I ever imagined.

He held his eyes closed and sought a spell of knowledge, a simple "Where am I and what is going on?" incantation that he had not needed since his early days as an apprentice trying to satisfy the seemingly outrageous demands of Auroreus.

The results then had never been anything like what they were now.

The single distant point of light was multiplied by infinity. Points of light whirled in space and time around Silvas, in every direction. Some raced so rapidly that they became streaks. Large conglomerations of lights spun around themselves in spheres and spirals. Vast seas of darkness separated those islands of light and motion. They were all around Silvas, as far as he could see, even below and above. The numbers were too great for Silvas to calculate, or even comprehend. He could not even count the islands, the collection of lights, let alone the individual points.

"The king is in his counting house, counting out his treasure."

Silvas felt himself hurtling through the maelstrom of light and dark, closely skirting several of the islands of lights. He came so close to one that he felt the intense heat it emitted, and that gave him his first clue.

I've felt that heat before, when I looked into a star. Cautiously, he fixed his gaze at a point just on the edge of one of the smaller groups of lights, still a distance off. He expanded the object in his telesight, slowly, just enough to confirm his suspicion.

I'm flying among the stars! There were too many wonders to explore in that realization. How could there be so many? I've never seen one part in a thousand of them before. Silvas put his wonder aside, concentrating on trying to determine where he was being taken.

He laughed, first within himself, then aloud. "What a fool you are," he said. "As if you could find your way among this, or have any idea where you're going. A god? This is a god-like power, to travel the heavens at such speed, so freely." And I am not doing it for myself.

He breathed deeply and regularly, forcing his body into the routine, willing his mind to peace, preparing as best he could for whatever might lie ahead. His eyes focused on the space around a single island of stars, a flat circle with noticeable arms coiled around the bulge of a brighter center. He was heading directly toward that island, and his speed seemed to be increasing.

The lights within that one island grew, and grew more intense. Though he still dared not look directly at them, Silvas saw color among the lights—red and orange, blue and white. The island expanded in front of him, shutting out any sight of other islands beyond and round it. And the points of light within that one island began to show individual definition.

Fires began to lick at Silvas's skin and clothing as he plunged into the island of lights. There was heat, but no burning. Silvas wove spells of defense around himself, tight, overlapping webs of power. He could feel the strength of his magic, so he knew that his spells were working, but he had no confidence that they might stand for long against such an awesome task.

His sense of motion shifted. He no longer seemed to be hurtling straight forward. Instead, it felt as if he were spiraling in toward some particular location beneath his feet. He looked down. There were fewer lights below him than around him.

Many minutes passed before he spotted the orange light that seemed to be pulling him. He stared at the envelope of darkness surrounding that one light, not focusing his telesight directly on the orange glare. A number of dark specks appeared, orbiting the light.

Without warning, it was all gone.

—|—

Silvas stood in the middle of a field brightly lit by a morning sun. Hundreds of knights engaged in what appeared to be the grand melee of a tournament. The clatter of weapons was a deafening cacophony that drew Silvas's eyebrows together, almost in pain. He smelled blood and fear, and the sweat of horses and men, overpowering the clean smell of earth torn up by galloping hooves. Crows cawed overhead, straining to make themselves heard over the metallic thunder of the combatants. Vultures circled even higher, silently waiting their turn at the field below. To one side, a grand-stand had been erected to let people cheer their heroes.

It shut out Silvas's memories of where he had been just an instant before. For a time, he was not even aware that he had lost a portion of his recent past. The immediate present was much too demanding.

Dead trees cavorted around the perimeter of the grand melee, the dead, ash gray trunks of trees—hollow and scarred, long denuded of leaves or growing branches. The crows came to grasp whatever perches they could hold on to among the reeling oaks and yews, their wings flapping as they fought to maintain their balance, their beaks opening wide with each splintering cry of disdain.

Silvas took a few cautious steps. He kept turning his head to make sure that none of the combatants came dangerously close to him. But the fighters seemed unaware of his presence. Swords and other weapons shone and bit. Gore spumed in slow-motion fountains where blades found their way past armor into flesh.

Then the grand melee turned into a stately dance, horses standing erect on hind feet, bowing and curtsying to each other. The armor of their knights was shiny and undented now. Weapons had been sheathed. The combatants formed into a circle that turned more rapidly as it grew smaller, tighter. A few of the horses and footmen started to lag behind the rest, spreading out into two tails that coiled more and more tightly around the central ring.

The crows disappeared from their perches. Silvas found himself in the center of the dancing knights and horses, along with...

"Four and twenty blackbirds, baked in a pie."

The pie was hot and smelled delicious. Silvas's mouth watered from unsuspected hunger. But he had no chance to eat. A quick glance around the circle showed all of those swords drawn again. The warriors were advancing, weapons raised, ready to cut into the pie—or into Silvas.

"Now isn't that a dainty dish to set before the king?"

—|—

Silvas found himself on a path in a forest, or perhaps an unusually well-tended royal preserve. The trees were well spaced. There was gently filtered light. In the middle of the path, only a few steps ahead of Silvas, a human heart beat slowly. Silvas stared at the heart, memories of the grand melee fading into a distant nook of his cavernous mind. The beating heart was a magnet for Silvas's eyes and mind. Although he had never seen one so exposed before, he knew instantly that this was a human heart. He was so fascinated by the steady expansion and contraction that he almost missed the fact that he was no longer alone on the path. Someone was walking toward him, from beyond the heart.

Silvas saw boot tips, looked up, and recognized the other figure at once—Mikel, the god Silvas had known only as his Unseen Lord, until Mikel found it necessary to flood Silvas's mind with knowledge of the gods and their secrets to help him fight off the Blue Rose.

"Silvas." Mikel's voice was a melodic baritone. He put more than recognition into the name. He used it as a vehicle of power.

"My lord Mikel," Silvas replied with a polite nod. But his use of the god's name showed that Silvas was aware of their changed relationship, that Mikel's former power over him no longer obtained.

Mikel pointed at the beating heart on the path between them. "I greatly fear that is your future," he said. Then he lifted one foot and stomped on the heart, crushing it completely.

Silvas saw Carillia in his mind, and he heard her telling him, "You have always been my heart."

CHAPTER THREE

Sitting at Silvas's side while the people of the Seven Towers and its village filed through the room to pay their respects to Carillia was torture for Maria. Everyone stared at her, most with simple curiosity, but some with expressions that approached hostility. To those few, Maria was an interloper, usurping the position that Carillia had held in the Seven Towers beyond all human memory. And Carillia lay dead, almost at Maria's feet.

They will get to know me in time, Maria told herself, trying to put her apprehensions to rest. She tried to pay attention to all of the faces that moved past. I need to get to know them all as quickly as possible, she reminded herself whenever it became a burden. This was to be her home, perhaps through eternity, and these people would be there, around her—her responsibility, her charges. Still, she ached to escape from the torment of their scrutiny, particularly once people from the village started to arrive. They had no foreknowledge of her, as those who lived in the castle did. But she could not leave. She had to stay with Silvas, and with Carillia, until the parade ended.

If she could not run from the room and all of the staring eyes, Maria wanted to flee within herself at least. All of her life, Maria had known how to escape there. Now there was so much that was new inside her, in the secret places of her dreams, demanding to be explored. But Maria dared not withdraw even her thoughts from the room in front of her while people were filing through. Many of the people spoke, if not directly to her, then to Silvas. And Silvas always introduced her: "This is Maria Devry, who shares Carillia's final gift with me."

If he can stand this ordeal, I can, Maria told herself firmly. After all, death was not new to her. Death had visited Mecq far too frequently during her lifetime for it to be a stranger. She had seen her own mother laid out like this, seen her father sit in similar vigil—though he had been bitter in grief. Maria glanced at Silvas. In the formality of the moment, he looked so cold and unfeeling, but Maria knew how vastly appearance belied his real self. Even without the new links between them, Maria had seen through the veneer.

If I dip just below the surface of my mind, I can touch his mind, Maria thought. Silvas? He turned and looked at her. The smile he offered was thin and seemed to be an expression of pain more than anything else. He rested his hand on top of her hand for just a moment.

This ordeal will pass in time, his mind told hers. We have much to explore together.

It's the gods' own truth, Maria responded, and she delighted in the tiny grimace that touched Silvas's face. It was a most human response to her jest.

After a time, the last of the villagers passed through the room and left. They had come in all their generations, from the oldest to babies being carried by their mothers—human, esperia, and gurnetz, all of the races that lived within the valley.

A few of the castle people returned to the long parlor then—Bosc and Bay, and two others who had been introduced to Maria as Koshka and Braf Goleg. They stood along the other side of Carillia's bier, across from Silvas and Maria. Pain and sorrow was clear in the inhuman faces of Braf and the two esperia. Only Bay's face showed no clear sorrow, though Maria sensed that the great horse felt as much pain as the others over the loss of Carillia.

Maria took her cue from Silvas. At his silent urging, she stood and said, "We will wait for you."

"It may be some time. I have a lot to deal with here."

"I know." Maria's smile conveyed more than words could. The undercurrents linking her to Silvas filled in any blanks. "No matter how long it takes."

—|—

Bay, Bosc, Koshka, and Braf Goleg followed Maria from the long parlor. Out in the great hall, Maria turned suddenly toward them and said, "I could feel your eyes boring holes through me," but softly, not with anger.

Only Bay met her gaze directly. Koshka looked down. Bosc looked at Bay. Even Braf Goleg, the chief warrior of the Seven Towers, would not meet her stare head on.

"You can hardly wonder at that," Bay said. There was no barb to his voice, though.

"I don't," Maria said, just as evenly. "You may think of me as little more than a child," she continued, her voice becoming soft and child-like. "In terms of physical years, you may be right." Then her tones changed abruptly, showing the power that now resided within her. "That may have been true yesterday, but the events of today have changed both Silvas and me, perhaps beyond the reckoning of any of us." She drew the eyes of the others to hers, almost by force of will.

"Koshka, you've run this household for ages. Carillia adored you beyond all measure and trusted you implicitly. Carillia and Silvas both depended on you for many services, and for advice." He met her eyes while she spoke to him, then lowered his gaze.

"Braf Goleg, the equal of any warrior twice your size. You could plan a battle to win a well from outlaws, or an empire from a mighty army of knights. Not that any would guess your fierce talents if they saw you playing with your children." The lupine fighter fidgeted through the recital, then merely cleared his throat when it was over. He was somewhat taller than the esperia, though much shorter than any human in the castle, even Maria.

"Bosc, you spoke of the earth bleeding, as if you were connected as closely to it as I am to Silvas. You felt the pain that the ground below us felt in the great battle. You serve Bay as his groom, but there is so much more to you." Maria had not been present when Bosc spoke of the earth's pain, but she could hear his voice in memory now.

Finally, Maria lifted her eyes to meet those of the giant horse. Bay was eight feet tall at the withers, but he lowered his head so that his eyes were nearer the level of Maria's.

"And what will you say of me?" Bay asked, uncertainty as much as irony behind his words. Uncertainty made Bay quite uncomfortable.

"Yes, what will I say of you?" Maria mused. She cocked her head to one side, staring deeply into the horse's large brown eyes. "What can I say about you? That there is more to you than anyone, even Silvas, has ever guessed?" She shrugged. "I see unsuspected depths in you, Bay. I cannot yet peer into those shadows."

For a moment, Bay did nothing more than return her stare. Finally, he cleared his throat and made a wide gesture with his head. "We may yet have to bodily carry him from that room," the horse said, changing the subject.

"No, he will come out when the time is right," Maria said.

"Are you truly so confident that you know his mind already?" Bay asked.

"In this, I am," Maria replied confidently. "In everything of importance."

—|—

Bosc accompanied Bay to the mews. Braf Goleg set about seeing to his sentries; the routines had to be observed, the more so with Silvas distracted by grief. Koshka went to find supper for his new mistress. Dinner had come and gone during the visitation for Carillia. Maria wandered around the great hall, trying to settle the feel of it within her: ancient timbers, more ancient stone; tall windows, faded tapestries; the various kinds of table and seat, crafted to fit the different races who lived within the Seven Towers. She let her surroundings sink in, pervading her the way oil sinks into wood and colors it.

"This is my home now," she whispered, so softly that none could hear.

There were still people in the great hall, of all three sorts. Maria felt surprised that she was not more curious about the strange folk, the gurnetz and esperia. They were clearly different, but—they belong here as much as I do, Maria decided. That was enough for the moment. When the time came, she could always delve within herself for more knowledge about them.

Maria spoke to everyone she approached, called them by name. Most seemed nervous, if not frightened, at her presence and the way she seemed to know them from the beginning. But after a smile and a few words, most of them were calmed.

After a time, Maria went behind the tapestry at the head of the great hall and took the stairs up to the private apartments that Silvas had shared so long with Carillia. Maria found her way unerringly to the small sitting room. She knew the plan of the Seven Towers as intimately as if she had lived there all of her life. At need, she could even have drawn plans for the castle, so precise that builders could use them to build an exact duplicate.

A moment later, Koshka brought in a tray with her supper.

"Thank you, Koshka." She did not question how he had known where to bring the meal. "Please sit with me for a time."

The invitation visibly startled Koshka, but he only hesitated for an instant before he perched himself on the edge of a small stool. None of the seats in this room were truly suited to the different architecture of esperia legs.

"You served the lady Carillia for a good many years," Maria observed.

"Aye, my lady," Koshka replied, almost stuttering. "An' my father an' gran'father afore me, for many generations."

"I knew her but briefly, but I mourn her passing as deeply as you do." Maria paused, then said, "I don't know how much you've heard about what happened."

"I know what was seen in the church of Mecq, my lady," Koshka said when it was obvious that she would wait for him to reply. "I know about the light that came over the three of you as my lady Carillia died."

"That light was the passing of her divinity to Silvas and, through him, to me. My thought was that my inclusion was accidental, because I was propping Silvas up, holding him. Silvas differs. He says that Carillia intended it as it was. I hesitate to agree, but I have no basis to contradict him."

"How could I contradict my master when you will not?" Koshka asked. "I will serve you as I served my lady Carillia, if you'll have me."

"Thank you, Koshka. I'll need to rely very much on your services in the days ahead. To begin with, I have no clothing but what I'm wearing."

Koshka stood. " 'Twill take time to fully remedy that, my lady, but I think we can make a proper start yet this evening."

Maria smiled as warmly as she knew how. "Thank you again, dear Koshka."

—|—

Servants prepared a bath for Maria. She luxuriated in the novelty of hot water, staying in the huge stone tub until nearly all of the warmth was gone. When she had finished, there was fresh clothing waiting for her. The retiring gown showed signs of being hurriedly shortened, but the job was mostly well-done, and the other things, while perhaps a bit too loose, fit as well as most of the clothes she had known before.

Maria walked around the bedroom, nearly as large as the great hall in her father's castle. She looked into cupboards and closets. For a time, she sat on the edge of the bed—that was larger than the tiny bedroom she had called her own in her father's castle. Sleep seemed to be the most natural thing in the world to do next, but Maria did not feel at all like surrendering to sleep. There was too much that was new and needed to be explored before she could really think about sleep. Silvas certainly would not be sleeping. He would be awake, in that room downstairs, maintaining his vigil.

Silvas. Maria turned her thoughts toward him, a little more directly. She could sense him sitting in the long parlor, his attention focused on Carillia. She did not try to speak to him, did not try to read his thoughts. I can if I want to, she knew, but she did not want to yet—not without significant need.

"No doubt we'll each cherish whatever privacy we can hold," she whispered.

Maria forced her mind as blank as she could. She took long, deep breaths, focusing fully on that exercise. It served to pass time, but did not bring her closer to sleep. Nor did it bring great revelations. Then, finally, it was time to open some of the new gates within her mind.

"I have to know what's there. I've been avoiding this for hours."

Maria stretched out on the bed, made herself comfortable, and closed her eyes. She directed her attention within. At first, it was like standing in the doorway of a darkened room and calling out, "Hello, is anybody there?" As the thought came to her, Maria gave it direction and force.

"Hello, is anybody there?"

She held her breath and waited. A low humming sound rose, not strong enough to annoy, more like a blanket to comfort her. The darkness abated in one direction. Maria felt herself "walking" toward that lighter area, though she had no sense of her body actually moving. After a time, she saw a hint of form that gradually resolved into clear outlines and became visible as Carillia.

"You're doing much better than I dared to hope," Carillia's image said. Maria had no fancy that this was really Carillia. She was dead, beyond any resurrection. But had something of her survived even that death?

"I didn't want to rush in," Maria said within her mind.

Carillia nodded. "That is wise. The beginning could be troublesome, even dangerous, otherwise. But you will do well. I see that in you."

"There is one question I must ask," Maria said. "Was this gift truly meant for me to share, or did you intend it solely for Silvas?"

Carillia's face smiled. "I am here to help you, am I not?" As soon as Maria nodded, Carillia vanished, and Maria was alone in her mind again.

But the darkness was no longer complete. Maria had no feeling of being alone in a vast emptiness. There was shadowy form, and there was content. Maira merely had to direct her attention to remove the shadows. She wandered paths that always managed to head precisely in the direction she wanted to travel. She looked. She sampled. On occasion, she took her attention back to her resting body. The room remained quiet. Candles burned low. Silvas had not returned.

It will be a long while yet before he comes out of that room, Maria assured herself, as confidently as if Silvas himself had told her that. In a way, he had.

Exploring.

Maria's thoughts turned toward Mecq, and she saw it. She saw her young brother, half brother, crying in his sleep. His sobbing seemed to be the only sound in the castle. "Be strong," Maria whispered, as much for her own comfort as for her brother's. Maria saw herself stroking his hair and forehead, and the crying became muted, then ended.

Another thought brought Carillia's name to mind again. A sequence of images flashed by, events from Carillia's life: a banquet in a hall that dwarfed the Glade; sitting on the grass by a stream, Carillia's first meeting with Silvas; even older memories, Carillia as a young child looking up at her parents—though Maria looked at them as she might have looked at her own parents. She saw something more in Carillia's father, a familiarity that seemed different, more recent, but when she could put no clearer tag to the thought, she dismissed it from her mind.

What strange wonders does this world hold? Maria wondered, and the tour that came was kaleidoscopic. She saw the pyramids of Egypt and the vast oceans of moving sand that stretched westward from them for incredible distances. She saw oceans of ice and snow in the far north, and giant floating mountains of ice in the sea.

And more, scenes passing so quickly that there was no time to fix them all in her conscious mind.

Eventually, Maria came back from her wandering one time to find that the last of the candles had finally burned out—but that the darkness in the bedroom did not limit her vision. The night was far advanced. She stretched her senses until she could see sentries walking their posts on the curtain wall. She heard other guards and servants snoring in their sleep in the many nooks and crannies of the castle that were home to the people of the Seven Towers. She could still tune her awareness to the presence of Silvas in the long parlor, though she continued to tread softly around that awareness.

There is as much that is new for him as for me, she reminded herself. He lost Carillia and gained two unknowns—Carillia's gift, and me.

Maria took a deep breath, and it was almost as if she were settling herself anew within her body after a long trip away. She stretched, rolled a little to one side and then to the other, then sat up and swung her legs off of the bed. She stood and stretched again, reveling in the sensuous feel of muscle pulling against muscle—aware of the workings of her body with an intimacy she had never suspected possible. There was so much knowledge to be tapped now.

And she felt a restless need to roam.

—|—

Dawn found Maria on the battlements of the keep, the highest point within the walls of the Glade. She was there when the special birds of the Seven Towers came out to celebrate their Matins. The birds swooped around her head, fearless, welcoming their new mistress. Maria watched in delight as the birds cavorted, and she tried to echo their song. The birds cooperated by repeating phrases she got wrong, correcting her until her rendition was a passable copy of their original. Then they went soaring off to circle over each of the other towers in turn.

Maria kept her face toward the rising sun as much as possible, luxuriating in the warmth. She closed her eyes and leaned against the parapet. The stone was cool, but warming quickly.

A long day full of terror and surprise, and a long night without sleep. I feel exceptionally well for that, she thought. Silvas still sits below. I wonder what he's thinking about now.

But she still refused to intrude to find out.

It's enough that I know I can touch him at need, she decided. There was sufficient for her to think about without delving into Silvas's mind. The night had been too full of discoveries for easy assimilation. The wonder of it still held her in deep fascination.

How can any mind touch one part in a hundred of it?

She looked over the parapet, down into the courtyard. Much of the bailey was still in shadow. The area Silvas had scratched off for Carillia's shrine was in full sunlight, though. He gave her the dawn, Maria thought. That seemed appropriate. Her smile was like the morning sun—warm, comforting, grace unscarred by power or age.

"I hope I can stay like that," Maria whispered. The sentry was all of the way on the other side of the keep, too far away to hear her.

Maria blinked several times, then started down the stairs. The morning meal would be ready in the great hall. Even if Silvas was not there to preside, Maria would be. The people of the Seven Towers needed to see that they had someone to serve, someone to follow.

—|—

Maria's arrival in the great hall seemed to come as a major surprise to most of the people gathered there. There had been a noisy babble that Maria could hear long before she entered, a babble with morning overtones of a grumpy but good-natured sort. Most of the noise evaporated as soon as she entered the great hall. People turned to stare. Maria stopped for a moment and smiled.

"Please, go on as you were." She felt self-conscious at the note of little-girl-pleading that crept into her voice. "I don't want to disturb anything."

Most of the people returned to their bowls and mugs. Conversations were resumed, but the talk was not as free as before. Maria went to the head table. Koshka was just beginning to prepare a place for her.

"Am I breaking precedent by taking breakfast here?" she asked in an anxious whisper.

"I wouldn't go so far as that, my lady, but rare enough it is for the lord and lady to breakfast in the great hall," Koshka said.

"I thought it might be important this day, with Silvas still in there." Maria merely glanced toward the door at the side of the great hall, but she was certain that Koshka would understand.

He nodded. "Aye, belike it is. We've gone through a fearsome battle, and our lord sits there alone, grieving for all of us.

"Did he come out at all during the night?" Maria asked.

"Not as anyone knows, my lady. There's been a man posted to fetch anything he might want, but he's not opened the door or called out once." Koshka shrugged, a peculiarly jerky gesture the way his body performed it. "Though, true it is, he has ways in and out of the Seven Towers that we cannot know or see."

True, but I don't think he has used any of those ways, Maria thought. She was certain that she would have known had Silvas traveled that way.

Koshka brought food and a light, fruity drink, something Maria had never tasted before.

"This is wonderful," she said after her first sip. "What is it?"

Koshka grinned. "The pure juice of a fruit that comes from the same far country as silk, my lady. The fruit is called orange."

"I've never heard of it."

"As like not. My lord has a special connection to Cathay."

Maria needed no further clue. Silvas obtained the fruit through magic. "There are a lot of special connections," she said.

"That there are, my lady," Koshka admitted with a bobbing nod. "We eat better than kings or popes here."

"And earn such keep most regularly." Maria's compliment obviously pleased Koshka.

—|—

The morning was full enough to keep Maria from brooding on Silvas's continued isolation. Shortly after breakfast, a woman who appeared to be in late middle age came into the small sitting room and introduced herself as Eila.

"I were the lady Carillia's maid since Harry Secund were king," Eila said. "I couldn't come to you yester eve, my lady. I were grievin' too sore for her."

More than sixty years! Maria marveled, doing the quick arithmetic. Eila is much older than she appears.

"I understand, Eila." Maria's voice was so gentle that it surprised even her. "She was very special to all who knew her, even as slightly as I did."

"Koshka tells me yer'll be needin' clothes, my lady," Eila said. "I'll see to't, quick as fingers may."

"Thank you, Eila. Thank you very much."

Eila made her marks of Maria's sizes and asked about her color preferences, then went off "to get the lasses started." Eila had scarcely gone before Koshka came in. He wanted to talk about the management of the household. Carillia had left all such details to him.

"I wouldn't dream of changing anything, certainly not when I know nothing of this place and its special circumstances," Maria said. "Unless Silvas tells you otherwise, I'm certain we'll continue as before."

Koshka insisted on at least going over accounts with her, making sure that Maria knew just how extensive the establishment was, how complicated its needs. Then he fetched in a lunch tray for her and left. Maria ate idly for a time, then started roaming about the keep again. She finally found her way out to the mews, past mid-afternoon. Bosc was washing out Bay's stable. The horse was trotting easily around the courtyard, exercising, until he saw Maria.

"Has he come out yet?" Bay asked, stopping a few feet from her.

"Not for an instant," Maria said.

Bay snorted. "It's as I said, we'll have to drag him out by force."

"No. He'll emerge on his own when it's time. He has a lot to think about just now."

"No more than you, and likely much less," Bay insisted. "His world has touched upon the corridors of great power from the beginning, as yours has not. Yet you've not shut yourself away from all the world."

"I didn't know Carillia as long or as well, either," Maria said.

"What bothers him is that he found he knew her not at all, despite their centuries together. None of us did."

Maria blinked quickly, twice. "You sound almost bitter at that," she said, amazed.

"Perhaps. That knowledge might have changed much." Bay turned his head to one side and then the other, then shook it in a violent gesture. "But perhaps nothing at all would have changed." Then he walked off toward his stall. Bosc had finished his work there.

CHAPTER FOUR

The Unseen Lord of the White Brotherhood and orthodox Roman Christians looked down as blood welled out of the crushed human heart under his foot. Silvas looked from the foot up at Mikel's face.

"It grieves me that you have so dim a view of my future," Silvas said calmly. "I might have expected more from our next meeting, had I troubled to anticipate it at all."

"I mean you no evil myself, but Carillia's gift has condemned you," Mikel said, meeting Silvas's gaze. "I will not make light of your plight."

"Why?" Silvas decided that he wanted a chair, and one appeared behind him—a minor application of power. He sat, trying to suppress any relief at the smooth working of the magic. Mikel procured a chair for himself and sat before he answered. When his foot moved, there was no trace of the crushed heart, or of all of the blood it had spilled.

"Which why?" the elder god asked in return.

Silvas shrugged. "Shall we start with, 'Why has Carillia's gift condemned me?' It seems as good a place as any."

"I suppose," Mikel conceded. "But perhaps it would be best if we started with the 'why' of my visit."

Silvas nodded. "As you will."

"Tomorrow morning, you should bring Carillia's body home to us, to the Citadel of the gods in the Shining City. That is where she belongs."

"I had intended to raise a chapel over her tomb within the Seven Towers," Silvas said. Perhaps she does belong in the land of the gods with her brothers and sisters, he thought while he talked. Perhaps the reminder of how she died will temper their combativeness. "But I see that you might be right," he continued with hardly a pause. "Yes, we will take her home tomorrow."

"We?" Mikel arched an eyebrow in a most theatrical display.

"Surely you don't expect me to travel alone in such circumstances," Silvas said quietly.

"As you will." There seemed to be a touch of a sneer in Mikel's voice as he threw the words back at Silvas. "We will be expecting you."

"Now, those other why's?" Silvas prompted.

"The battle just ended hasn't brought all of our disagreements to an end, my siblings and I. At the moment, things may be quiet among us. We all need time to gather our thoughts and assess next moves. But few, if any, would welcome a new antagonist to the lists. You cannot expect the warmest of welcomes in the Citadel. Some might think to save themselves later bother by eliminating you now, before you have learned to use your gift."

"I gave you good and loyal service, Mikel, for many centuries, culminating in the recent battle that eliminated your most dangerous foes." Silvas allowed no breach of inner tranquillity to show on his face or in his voice. "One might reasonably expect some measure of loyalty in return."

"You were a good and loyal servant," Mikel allowed. "As I said, I bear you no special ill will. But one hardly accepts servants who stray above their station into one's bosom. One doesn't seat them above the salt merely because they think they belong there."

"You did bring warning, and that is something," Silvas conceded. "And when you think of gifts, remember the gift you gave me before the final battle for Mecq."

For an instant, that seemed to put Mikel at a loss. His thoughts had not run in that direction before, and he needed an instant to recall what Silvas was speaking of.

"Your gift was almost as great as Carillia's," Silvas said, his voice fading almost to imagination. "You gave me your knowledge. You gave me your names. You gave me power." There was indeed power in the final word, enough to make Mikel jerk his head back in reflex.

The two immortals stared at each other in silence for a stretch out of time. Then Silvas smiled and nodded. "I might not prove a willing lamb for the slaughter, Mikel. I might take the butchers with me."

Mikel showed no response. He simply removed himself with a scant nod of his head. The forest clearing vanished as well. Silvas blinked twice, absently, and found himself back in the long parlor with Carillia. Satin and Velvet were still in their places at either end of the bier. There were no candles or torches burning in the room. Light showed through the windows.

"Two days and nights have passed since we brought you back to the Glade, my love," Silvas said, knowing precisely how much time had passed. He gazed with love at the face of his lost Carillia. "The world turns. Your brothers and sisters still hate." Silvas sighed. "Now I find that I won't even have you here to comfort me in the eternity to come. I must take you home to the world you abandoned, to the glorious Citadel in the Shining City." He shook his head. "What pompousness."

Silvas stood and stretched mightily. He stood over Carillia and looked down at her face. It was no more serene in death than it had been customarily in life. Save for the lack of any movement at all, there was no sign that life had indeed left her face forever.

"I would that I could spend all of the hours between now and then here with you, my love. But there are arrangements to make for your final journey, precautions to take for those you leave behind. It seems I can no longer rely on your brother Mikel for help. I have climbed above my station." Silvas closed his eyes and marveled at his lack of surprise, or bitterness.

A new thought came to him. Mikel spoke of the way I received Carillia's gift, that I had little future. Has he no knowledge that Maria shares that gift?

Silvas opened his eyes and looked at Carillia again. "Did your final gift go beyond what your brother can even imagine?" Silvas could not decide if that were possible, or if it might be one small advantage that he and Maria might hold over Mikel and the others.

—|—

There were always people in the great hall of the Glade, day or night. At afternoon's end, as suppertime approached, there were perhaps more than at other times. The sun was below the parapets of the Seven Towers when Silvas left the long parlor and entered the great hall. The common noises of the crowd faded. Those who were sitting or squatting at table stood and faced Silvas. He stood motionless for a moment, caught unawares by the attention.

"Tomorrow, we will take Carillia home to the land of the gods," Silvas said, knowing that his people expected him to say something. "We will never forget her here. We will raise a shrine to her memory in the courtyard of the Seven Towers." Then he turned and headed for the main entrance, to his right. He took the wide staircase up to the private apartments above.

Maria was waiting for him on the landing. Silvas came to a halt one step below, which put their eyes almost at the same level.

"I knew the instant you opened the door to leave her," Maria said. "I couldn't help that."

"I know." Silvas took the final step up to the landing. They turned toward the doorway leading into their living quarters. Silvas put his arm around Maria's shoulders. "These last two days can't have been easy for you."

"But not so hard as they've been for you," Maria replied.

"We have much to talk about." Silvas thought how vast an understatement that was.

Maria giggled. "Only the world, the universe, and all of time."

Silvas smiled. "I was uncertain how you would react to all that has happened. I scarcely know how to react myself."

"Did you never suspect that you might one day attain such a station?"

"I scarcely conceived that anyone could. Like everyone else in this world, I had my place, my duties. There was no time or purpose to be served in dreaming of fancies so far beyond them. And you?"

Maria shrugged. "A young girl dreams of many things, but never of this. All I knew of gods was the One God the Church told us about. It sorrows me to know the lies that have been fostered, even by the gods themselves. When the gods scheme and war and lie, where do humans look for succor?"

They went into the large sitting room. Maria sat on the cushioned divan that Koshka had told her came from Persia. Silvas went to a window that overlooked the side of the bailey where Carillia's shrine would be built.

"The gods care little for mortals, for what they are, do, or believe, except as it pleases their own vanities," Silvas said. "The gods don't even create religions. Men do that. Only if the rites and rituals of a religion appeal to a god's vanity will he lend it power, and make it his own." Silvas hesitated before he added, "Carillia was an exception. She cared, or she never would have spent so many centuries helping me to help them."

"And she wouldn't have passed her gift on so you could continue to help," Maria said.

"So we can continue." Silvas turned from the window to face Maria. "It may not be easy. I had a visitor while I sat in vigil." He related the tale of Mikel's appearance, choosing to speak the words aloud rather than merely project them into Maria's mind. She closed her eyes. She did more than listen, she experienced everything that Silvas had seen and heard, as fully as if she had been present, but Maria absorbed the meeting more quickly than Silvas had lived it.

When Maria opened her eyes again, Silvas was sitting on the sofa, close to her, leaning even closer.

"It will be difficult," Maria said.

The few inches of space between their eyes might almost not have existed. They were connected so totally at that moment that neither would have noticed a hand passed between their faces. More than at any time since the instant when Carillia passed her divinity to them, their beings merged fully. Eternities expired in a blink as their minds and souls spun tightening orbits around each other, culminating in a flash of light within them that might have given birth to entire universes. Maria had no chance to think, to respond, to any of the myriad wonders that exploded around her, around them, as they existed at the center of being itself. She and Silvas were truly one mind, one being, experiencing the universe together, and driving tendrils of themselves thoroughly into every mote of each other.

The moment ended. In unison, they took deep breaths and leaned back, away from each other, letting their individual bodies sink against the cushions of the divan.

"We need time to learn to use what we have," Silvas said at last, as overwhelmed by the experience as Maria. "And time is the one leisure we may not have."

"You are the champion who destroyed the Blue Rose heresy," Maria said. "Even the gods must take some pause before attacking." Part of her mind stood apart and wondered at the font that provided such thoughts. They came unbidden, almost unrecognized until they were spoken.

"Some pause," Silvas agreed. "But will it be enough?" He stood quickly, almost leaping to his feet. "It will have to do." He paced to the window and back. "We'll make what use we can of whatever time there is. For now, perhaps something to eat."

Koshka fetched supper in with the aid of two lads from the scullery. As usual, he seemed to know exactly when he was wanted, and with what. And then he left, taking the serving boys with him.

During the meal, Maria talked of what she had done during the days of Silvas's vigil, focusing on the trivia of getting to know her new home and the people of the household. Neither Silvas nor Maria wanted to dwell on the worries that Silvas had brought out of his vigil.

"You haven't slept at all since coming to the Seven Towers?" Silvas asked at one point.

"No, I guess not," Maria replied. "There's been too much to do. I'm really not tired yet." The last was said with amazement. "I did rest for a few moments the first night."

Silvas leaned back and looked into the distance over Maria's head. "I feel as if I could sleep for a week, but I also feel as if I could go on for another week without sleep, at need."

"We're different now," Maria said.

"Yes, but..." Silvas shook his head and smiled faintly at the memories that came. "Carillia slept, sometimes to excess. I think she enjoyed sleep."

"I do, too, in its place," Maria said. "Not all of the time."

Silvas looked at the golden platter in front of him. "I think that eating might be the same, something done more for pleasure than need now." He shrugged. "It seems right, but I don't feel any call to start fasting in order to prove the proposition."

"I hope not." Maria giggled. "I've never eaten so well in my life as these last two days."

They lingered over the meal, as if time were the last thing they might lack. Evening twilight settled and moved on into night before they finished. Then Silvas sighed.

"I think we should have a word with Bay before the nights gets much deeper."

"He gives good advice?" Maria made it a question, although she knew the answer.

"Always, though it's not always palatable," Silvas said.

They went to the mews, following a circuitous path from the keep to the curtain wall, around to one of the outer towers, then down into the stables. Bay was standing with his head out the open top half of his stall door. Bosc was sitting on a bale of hay in the corridor.

"She had to drag you out?" Bay asked.

"No." Silvas did not bother with the disguise of a smile. "I came out because it was time. I had a visitor. Mikel, the Unseen Lord. We have things to discuss." Quickly, with great economy of words, Silvas laid out the details of Mikel's visit.

"We need to offer what meager pageantry we can, of course," Bay said when Silvas had finished.

"I don't want to put on a false show," Silvas said. "That would be worse than nothing."

"Not false, but what we can," Bay said.

"You have suggestions?" Silvas asked.

"I will order the arrangements," Bay offered. "You have other concerns to occupy you."

"This must be done with some precision," Silvas said.

"I do know what is needed," Bay assured him.

"We'll need to leave early," was Silvas's next comment.

"But not too early," Bay countered. "It will suffice if we leave when the sun is over the new sea passage between England and France."

"What?" Silvas and Maria shouted the word in unison.

"You do recall that the sun was in the wrong place when we came home, don't you?" Bay challenged.

Silvas hesitated before he nodded. "It passed completely out of my reckoning, though. I had too much else to think upon."

Bosc spoke then. He remained seated on the bale of hay and did not even look up. "When the earth trembled and shook during the battle at Mecq, England was torn loose from its roots and twisted about. Scotland is to the north now; Salisbury far in the south. Ireland has been ripped loose as well and rides the waves west of Wales. A strip of ocean, never less than seven leagues in width, separates England from the rest of Europe. We have been cast adrift like lepers."

"Not adrift," Bay said. "Merely anchored in new places. The old world is changed."

Silvas took a deep breath and cast his mind out into the void to look and question. He was scarcely aware that Maria's consciousness stayed locked to his, seeing exactly what he saw. The world was laid out below them just as Bosc had said. Quickly then, Silvas opened his eyes in the stable again.

"Auroreus always said that when the gods did battle among themselves it could be a terrible time for mortals," he said.

"This new world doesn't even recall the old," Bay said, looking toward Bosc. "Perhaps beyond the walls of the Seven Towers, no one below the land of the gods knows the truth of the old world."

"How can that be?" Maria asked, too quickly, before she gave herself a chance to look for the answer within.

"I know not," Bay said. "But such observations are my gift."

"They are," Silvas agreed. He looked around in his mind for any imminent threat in the mews, but found none. "This will bide until we have leisure for it."

"Leisure, or need," Bay replied.

—|—

"What do you think we'll face when we get to the land of the gods?" Maria asked while she and Silvas were retracing their steps into the keep.

"I have no idea," Silvas said. "And I doubt that we could discover much in the time we have before morning. I've had only distant glimpses of the Shining City." A place you can't get to unless you're already there, he thought, recalling one nightmarish vision he had experienced of it.

"We could look for new memories of it," Maria suggested. "There must be something we can reach within ourselves."

"The memories will come when there is something to spark them," Silvas said. "I see no advantage to forcing them. That is the easy way to provoke false memories."

"Whatever you think best."

Silvas stopped suddenly and turned toward her. They were in a passageway within the main curtain wall, dimly lit by torches a distance ahead and behind them, in deep shadows.

"You shouldn't be so quick to dismiss your notions, Maria." There was an urgency to his voice that puzzled her. "The only difference between us is a matter of experience, and that isn't always the most important quality. The ability to see a situation from a point of view that isn't colored by ages of experience can sometimes be priceless."

"Then?"

Silvas shrugged, and they resumed their walk. "In part, it's because I hope for the insight of inexperience that I don't think we should look ahead this time. I want to give us both that advantage."

Maria did not attempt to analyze the warm feeling that Silvas's words gave her. She just basked in it.

There was wine waiting when they got to their rooms. "A special vintage, one of my favorites," Silvas said.

Maria sipped it cautiously, watching Silvas over the rim of the goblet. The spicy wine tickled her tongue and brought a pleasing warmth to her insides when she swallowed it. She took a second, more generous, drink and let the wine swirl around in her mouth for a moment before she swallowed. This wine was better than any she had ever tasted before coming to the Glade. The thin, acidic wines that occasionally found their way to Mecq had never invited lingering.

"I never knew that wine could taste this good." She set the goblet down gingerly.

Silvas stared at her. She showed no discomfort at the scrutiny. It was no more than if she had been looking in a mirror.

"I'm not Carillia," Maria whispered. "I couldn't be her, and I won't try."

"I would never ask it," Silvas said. "Whatever we have become, it's something new. I don't believe this world has ever seen our like before."

"There's no one to say what we should or shouldn't do then," Maria said. "Even Brother Paul could find no way to stricture us."

Silvas laughed softly, recalling the vicar of Mecq and his earnest faith. "Don't underrate the good churchman. A cleric can always find grounds for stricture."

Maria laughed in return, but the laughter did not last. It drowned in the intensity of their eyes as they stared at each other. Maria stood, walked around the table, and sat on Silvas's laps.

"We are one now," Maria whispered as she touched Silvas's cheek.

The touch was something beyond the experience of either of them. It snatched away their breath, then wrapped them in a tight cyclone of light and color, a dazzling kaleidoscope that pressed them together and lifted them from the room. Their bodies merged into one, as if physically, leaving a double-vision, double-sensation panorama around them. Heart danced with heart, touching, steadying to the same beat. Thoughts laced together, a dual stream that became one. The cyclone moved them in time and space. They saw the lands that had given birth to the different people of the Seven Towers, the lupine gurnetz and the porcine esperia. They saw futures and pasts, some that would be, and some that had never been, or would never have been.

They saw each other. They became each other. For a time, there was only one being with both memories, and the two of them experienced the union in every fiber of their being.

Then they were two again, but not completely separate. When the cyclonic tour ended, they were in darkness and in silence, together in bed, with no memory of undressing or moving from the sitting room. Their separate bodies came together again, this time in more mundane fashion, repeating in the flesh what they had already done in spirit.

Maria extended her arms to gather Silvas in as he came down on her. They were naked and alive, sealing their destiny together. Though this was the first time that Maria had taken a man into her bed, there was nothing unknown or frightening about it. She was every woman since Eve... and Carillia was there at her side.

Silvas and Maria consumed the night and each other. The experience went beyond words or emotions, beyond the simple fact of their repeated couplings. When it was over, they woke in each other's arms, their bodies still linked in the basic fashion of the species, their inner beings linked in a fashion never before known by anyone born of woman.

Dawn was near. Outside, a cock crowed, foreshadowing sunrise.

"Sleep was never so restful." Maria cradled Silvas's face in her hands and kissed him with a passion that might have threatened to suck the life out of a lesser partner. That might have led to renewed intimacies, but the night had been full enough of abandon to allow restraint at its close.

"An eternity of this could never suffice," Silvas replied when the kiss ended. "This night has given us a taste of something unique. It marks us forever."

They got out of bed and went back into each other's arms for a moment before moving into the normal routines and rhythms of morning. They had a busy day to face, though neither spoke of that until the sun was up and warm sunlight came in through the window. Even then they spoke of the day only as an outing, perhaps not a picnic in the forest, but certainly not as a pilgrimage full of sorrow and danger.

Servants brought hot water to the bathroom. After Silvas and Maria bathed together and dressed—Maria in a new gown she found waiting in the dressing alcove off of the bath—Koshka knocked discreetly on the door between the bedroom and the small sitting room, and they came out for breakfast.

"Everything is prepared," Koshka said, bowing his head twice. "Lord Bay has made all the arrangements."

Koshka left Silvas and Maria to their meal. They ate quickly, but with no great show of haste. There were assorted fruits, most of them new to Maria since coming to the Glade, cheese, hard rolls, and the delightful orange juice.

"Do you have any idea how long our journey will be?" Maria asked as they left the sitting room. They headed toward the stairs that would take them down to the head of the great hall.

"I've given it no real thought," Silvas said. "I expect it will be just long enough to impress us with the vista of the Shining City."

It was an easy prophecy.

CHAPTER FIVE

Six of the normal human members of the castle staff carried Carillia out to a wagon in the courtyard. The days that had passed since her death had brought no change to her appearance. Her flesh was not mortal. It could not corrupt the way mortal flesh must. Virtually everyone who lived and worked within the Seven Towers lined the way from the keep to the gate, standing with bowed heads, saying their final farewells to the lady who had been mistress of the Glade—seemingly forever. Only Silvas, Bay, and Bosc remembered when Carillia had first come through the gate.

The morning was fair and sunny, warm without being hot. The wagon was draped in green and black for this journey. It had been freshly scoured the night before. The horses hitched to the wagon were a matched pair of white draft animals, large but not nearly as large as Bay.

Bay stood apart from the activity around the wagon. He was saddled and harnessed. All of his gear had been cleaned and oiled. A chestnut mare—dwarfed not only by Bay but also by the draft team—had been readied for Maria.

"Bosc and Koshka will ride the wagon," Bay told Silvas and Maria. "Girabelle will carry Maria nicely. Braf and six of his soldiers will march as escort." Gurnetz did not take easily to riding. But Braf and his folk could keep up with any horse, even at the gallop, and pass any but Bay in endurance.

"It is appropriate, Bay. Thank you," Silvas said.

Bosc was already on the drover's bench, the team's reins in his small hands. Koshka climbed up beside him. Satin and Velvet had not figured in Bay's planning, but the cats leaped up onto the bed of the wagon and took up position on either side of their dead mistress. No one attempted to persuade them to dismount.

Braf formed up his soldiers—armed with spears and short swords and clad in their customary armor of leather studded with metal rivets—behind the wagon, then looked toward Silvas and Bay for his orders. Silvas helped Maria to mount Girabelle, then he mounted Bay and nodded to Braf. Bay walked toward the front gate. Maria guided Girabelle into position next to Bay. As soon as they were out in front of the wagon team, Bosc flicked the reins to start the whites. Braf and his soldiers marched at the rear of the procession.

The march had scarcely begun before Silvas reined Bay in, not halfway across the drawbridge, forcing the rest to stop behind them. Silvas had given no thought to picking a route to the Shining City and the Citadel of the gods. He had assumed that the route would be there to find without difficulty. Coming out of the Glade on a normal day, Silvas would have expected to see the wide land that sloped gently downhill toward the village a half mile away. There would be familiar fields, orchards, and pastures spread around the landscape and, most likely, people out at work.

There was a road leading away from the main gate of the Seven Towers, but it was not the familiar dirt lane that led along the center of the valley. This road was much wider, ten yards from side to side, perfectly level, and it seemed to glow with a faint ivory light. There was no trace of the natural landscape. This might have been a completely different valley, wider and flatter, as if the Seven Towers opened in a distant locale, as it had so regularly during Silvas's tenure. But no pillar of smoke hid the Glade and connected it to some distant venue.

"It seems that our way is prepared for us," Silvas commented, his voice not as dry and ironic as he had intended.

"At least we don't have to worry about getting lost," Maria said.

Bay turned his head to look at Maria with both eyes. His nod was a subtle sign of approval. "We won't get lost," Bay said.

It's not something Carillia would have said, Maria realized, uncertain just where that information had come from.

"We did expect to find the way open," Silvas said. "There's no need to stand here and gawk as if we had never seen a bit of legerdemain before."

With that, Bay started walking again, off of the drawbridge and onto the glowing road. Maria kept her horse at Bay's right. The horses pulling the wagon needed a little urging to step onto the strange road, but once they were moving, Bosc had no difficulty keeping them on the way. Braf and his soldiers came behind the wagon, as before. The nature of the road mattered not at all to them. It was smooth, and the grade was minimal. That was all they would ask of any road.

"I've never seen this landscape before," Silvas said after they had ridden for twenty minutes. The road had been slightly downhill at first. After leveling off, the road bent slightly to the right in a long, gentle turn, and then it straightened up and started an equally gentle climb.

"I've never seen a sky so blue, or clouds so perfectly white," Maria said. "Are we already in the land of the gods?"

"Near enough, I imagine," Silvas said. "I expect that when we reach that crest ahead, we'll see the Shining City, laid out in all its glory, just far enough away for us to gather a full appreciation of its splendor."

"A minstrel show to awe us," Bay said, his voice denying that he would feel any awe, no matter what the presentation.

"That seems so shallow of them," Maria said.

"Shallowness is the least of their vices," Bay said sourly.

"I can't argue with that," Silvas said. "But for the moment at least, we need some sort of accommodation with them. I would as lief not fight another battle such as Mecq—ever, for choice, certainly not soon. Maria and I need time, more than anything else."

"Time means little to that lot, one way or the other," Bay said. "They have less concept of time than you might imagine."

"You seem very certain of that," Maria said.

"Facts are my gift," Bay said. There was no tinge of boasting in his voice. "While not all knowledge is in my purview, if I do know something, I know it of a great certainty."

"One of his gifts," Silvas said. "It's unlike you to be so limiting about yourself, Bay."

Bay merely snorted.

It was not merely that the sky was colored to perfection. Every detail of the landscape that surrounded the pilgrims was drawn to a meticulous ideal, as if not even the most insignificant fault could be tolerated. The colors were pure. The trees grew in graceful symmetry, without a single missing or stunted branch to spoil the effect. A gentle breeze caressed trees, grass, and growing grain with just the appropriate movement to balance the composition.

"No mortal artist ever did such a job," Maria said.

"Literally true," Bay said. "But many a mortal artist has taken his inspiration from vistas such as this."

"You mean they see into the land of the gods?" Maria asked.

"Many mortals have glimpsed some segment of this land. An artist is merely someone with the memory to hold the vision and the talent to turn it into something that others can see as well," Bay said.

"But the rendering always falls short of the ideal," Silvas added. "That is the way of life."

"That is the way of these gods as well," Bay said. "They fall pitifully short of the ideal."

"After Mecq, who could argue with that?" Maria asked.

"More than you would credit," Bay said. "Already, I'd wager that there are some folk in Mecq itself who are beginning to talk their way into disbelieving what happened. And away from Mecq?" He shook his head. "Few who hear about the battle we fought there will ever believe the story. It will be a wild tale from the hinterland, a legend from beyond all reckoning. Soon, there will be a dozen names attached to the place where a great mythical battle took place. A few learned friars in some distant monastery might argue over the story, but as an idle pastime, not in search of Truth."

"Is he always so gloomy?" Maria asked.

"Almost always," Silvas said with a dry chuckle. "I wouldn't know how to deal with Bay if he became an optimist. I'd think someone had switched horses on me."

Bay would not dignify that exchange with any reaction.

—|—

As Silvas had predicted, they could see the Shining City lying spread across the distance before them when they reached the top of the rise. The walls of the city stretched left and right, if not "as far as the eye can see," then still across enough of the horizon to be impressive.

Silvas moved Bay to the left side of the road. He and Maria stopped there. Bosc reined in the wagon team. Braf and his soldiers came up along the side of the wagon and stopped to rest. Braf came over to Silvas while his honor guard squatted to take their break in the meager shade offered by the wagon.

"That's where we're going?" Braf asked with a short gesture toward the Shining City.

"That's where we're going," Silvas confirmed. "To be slightly more accurate, we're going to the Citadel of the gods, in the precise center of that city." He pointed. "There, where the towers are tallest and covered with gold."

Braf did not have Silvas's gift of telesight, but his eyes were adequate for his needs. "Real gold, no doubt," he mumbled.

"No doubt at all," Silvas said.

"Be difficult to carry it off from there, though," Braf observed.

Silvas laughed. "Ah, Braf, what a Viking you'd have made with that eye. Your first look at the home of the gods and your only thought is the difficulty of making off with their gold."

"I'm no priest," Braf said. The growl in his throat would have terrified a stranger. "A soldier thinks on soldierly things, my lord."

"The only treasure we're interested in escaping from that city with are our lives, my friend," Silvas said. "That may prove difficult enough. You'll find they bear us no love in that city."

Braf growled again. "It's good we're not here for more, lord. I'd need a few more men than I brought along today."

Silvas greeted that with a full-bellied laugh. Maria joined in hesitantly, but Bay awarded it a laugh and a generous nod.

"Well said, Braf." Silvas wiped at the corner of his eye. "After you've had a chance to look around, you can tell me how many of your doughty gurnetz you'd like for the other job."

Braf harrumphed, then looked across to his soldiers. "We've had time enough to rest. Whenever you're ready, lord."

"A moment more. I want to look on this vista yet."

"You'll see better when we get closer," Bay reminded Silvas.

"But I won't be able to see it all spread before us the way it is now."

"Is it as large as London?" Maria asked as Silvas started to focus his telesight on the distant walls.

"Look with me," Silvas told her, and he felt her vision reaching out and expanding, joining his. "As large as London? Far, far larger. If you put London, Paris, and Rome together, they would fill but a single quarter of the Shining City. Add Constantinople and Athens, and all of the great cities of Islam, and you might come close to the size of this."

There was a wide moat around the outer wall of the Shining City, as wide as the Thames where it passed the Tower of London. Glistening blue water filled the moat to the brink. The towers spaced along the city wall were each larger than the Glade. Within the city were myriad buildings, many of them tall enough to reach above the outer walls. In some quarters, the buildings were spread out. In others, they pressed close against each other. Beyond them, Silvas and Maria could see the top of a second set of walls, higher and more massive than the curtain that enclosed the entire city.

"That is the Citadel of the gods," Silvas said, focusing Maria's attention on the inner wall.

"We're going inside there," she said.

"Yes."

"It might be difficult to get back out if they try to stop us."

"It might," Silvas conceded. "I think it far more likely, though, that they'll be more than happy to see the last of us."

"One way or the other," Bay said, intruding on the discussion. Silvas and Maria ended their survey.

"One way or the other," Silvas echoed. He stood in his stirrups to look back the way they had come. The avenue seemed to stretch forever, a glowing ivory lane that vanished in the distance. There was no sight of the Glade, even when Silvas used his telesight. The distance blurred in a mist his eyes could not penetrate. "We might as well get going."

Once everyone was moving again, Silvas pointed ahead at the Shining City. "That is the ideal toward which men have always reached—Mount Olympus, Valhalla, Paradise, the Heavenly City."

The Shining City lay on a vast plain—an open space with only sky at its horizons—surrounded by fields of grain and vegetables, and pastures crowded with cattle and sheep. The farming areas were neatly separated by well-tended orchards of fruit and nut trees. Small villages clustered around the intersections of roads that mainly led toward the city.

"They know nothing of drought here," Maria observed. "They might feed all of England from this one plain."

"Most like," Silvas agreed. "But no doubt there are mouths enough here to eat it all."

"And then some," Bay contributed. "They're never shy to take the best of whatever can be found elsewhere."

"Do you truly hate the gods so much?" Maria asked the horse.

"They've amply earned any hatred I might bear them," Bay said. "Haven't they earned yours as well? What happened to Mecq was but a game to them. They care less for the lives of people than you do for the ants and crickets you might accidently tread on in the forest."

"Whatever our feelings, I doubt this is the best time to openly air them," Silvas said. "There will be time enough for that once we are safely home within the Seven Towers."

"I know when to hold my tongue," Bay said.

—|—

They needed two hours to cross the plain to the city. Up close, the outer wall of the Shining City appeared to be taller than the keep of the Glade. The Seven Towers might almost have disappeared within the moat. That ditch showed no bottom to curious eyes looking in from above. The water was crystal clear, a decided contrast to the water in moats surrounding castles and cities in the mortal sphere, moats that were also used as sewers. The gate towers at either side of the main gate to the walled city were wider and higher than any tower in England. A stone causeway, thirty feet wide, crossed two-thirds of the moat and ended on a tiny island. The last channel was crossed on a drawbridge. The planks of the drawbridge had been hewn from gigantic trees. Each board was forty feet long, two feet wide, and near a foot in thickness. The links of the chains that controlled the bridge looked to top a hundredweight apiece.

Does the show extend to keeping Titans to wind the bridge up and down? Silvas wondered, but he did not speak.

Two sentries stood in the archway of the gate, one at either side. They appeared to be normal humans, tall and heavily built, clad in brilliantly reflective plate mail, and armed with long spears and swords. Their eyes dismissed the new arrivals with a single glance. Silvas and his companions were allowed entry into the Shining City without challenge.

Beyond the gate and the sixty-foot-thick curtain wall, there was a large plaza. Large enough for all of Mecq to sit in, and then some, Maria thought. And this is but the smallest part of one quarter of this city.

There were hundreds of people in and around the plaza, but no one appeared to pay any attention to the troop entering the city. It was not so much that they seemed to be consciously ignoring the newcomers, but more as if they actually did not notice them.

"Our path remains clear," Silvas observed. Across the square, one street, a broad avenue, showed the same ivory glow that the road from the Seven Towers had displayed. Bay headed for that extension.

Will the path be the straightest and shortest, or will it twist and turn to give us more time to gape? Silvas asked himself. He was modestly disappointed that the way seemed to be as direct as possible from the curtain wall to the Citadel. The way was not short—traversing the outer city took as long as the trek across the plain to the city wall—but it was as direct as possible. The newcomers had to go around to the far side of the Citadel. That was where the gate to the inner city was located.

"The outer city is undoubtedly reserved for mortals and demigods, the servants of the gods," Silvas said, his voice bland.

But even Silvas could not hold back the catch in his breath when they finally turned a corner and came face-to-face with the reality of the Citadel of the gods. It lay on the far side of a plaza that was a half mile in diameter, and the Citadel seemed to reach straight up into whatever heavens might nestle above the land of the gods. The wall was higher than the steeples of any of the newest cathedrals in Europe. The towers set in that wall were higher by half. And the inner towers, the castles, and palaces of the gods, stretched even above those.

"This was where Carillia lived before she came to me," Silvas said, feeling perhaps the deepest awe he had ever experienced. This is what she gave up for the Glade, and for me! The flood of emotion that came over him threatened to destroy his self-control.

—|—

There was another moat around the Citadel, narrower than the one that circled the entire city, but still quite wide and deep. The drawbridge was as solid. The halves of the gate of the Citadel were each forty feet high and twenty feet wide, mounted on rollers that ran in tracks. The two bars that could be slid across to hold the gate closed were tree trunks, each more than two feet in diameter and long enough to span the entire gateway.

"What raises such fears in gods that they put such defenses around themselves?" Maria asked in a voice pitched to reach only Silvas, even though they were in the middle of the drawbridge across the fifty-yard-wide moat.

"I imagine they would say that it is merely to impress those who can be impressed by it, not because of any fear," Silvas replied. "But if they had no fears, we wouldn't have witnessed the battle at Mecq."

"My father felt fears," Maria said. "He sat in his castle and talked always of needing more soldiers. He dreamed of throwing walls across both passes between our valley and Blethye. The more we suffered from the drought, the grander his dreams became."

"I think these gods are not so much different," Silvas said. He thought of Mikel's visit to the Seven Towers the day before, and he felt a sourness in the pit of his stomach. "The ancients told of gods and goddesses who were as petty as the meanest of mortals. It seems they knew truths that the White Brotherhood has lost sight of."

Inside the walls of the Citadel was another city, larger than any in the mortal world. Lanes and avenues headed off in three directions from the gateway. Smaller castles and palaces with extensive grounds around them were set off from each other. A few more plebeian buildings lined the street that paralleled the Citadel's wall. The scale was so vast that it was impossible to grasp instantly, even for these visitors.

Silvas reined Bay to a halt just after Braf's soldiers cleared the inner edge of the wall and gate towers. The others stopped as well, moving close to Silvas.

"Where do we go now?" Maria asked. The glowing pavement had ended at the drawbridge. There was no trace of a continuation inside the Citadel.

"We move to the center of this square," Silvas said, hesitating hardly at all. "I think we will be met. If not, we'll wait a moment or two, and if that doesn't suffice to bring us a guide or some clear indication of our path, we'll leave the Citadel and find an inn in the outer city to host us until Mikel and his brethren see fit to call."

"I can find the way to where we are meant to go," Bay announced softly. "I feel the call of it."

"I rarely ask your sources, Bay, but is this knowledge your usual sort or something planted for the occasion by our reluctant hosts?"

"I don't know that I can say with any great assurance," Bay replied.

"Then we'll wait for something more positive," Silvas said. "If they mean to slight Carillia by slighting us, let them do so openly." He flicked Bay's reins, and Bay walked slowly toward the center of the square. The procession had hardly started to move before Silvas and Maria spotted riders coming along one of the avenues on the other side of the plaza.

Silvas focused his telesight. There were three riders coming down the opposite avenue, one in front dressed in fancy silks and brocades, brilliantly colored and fit to show every joint and bulge in a large and muscular body. The other two riders carried pennons, one of bright green, the other of a red that was so intense that it could scarcely be described. Both were fringed with long gold tassels. The horses were richly caparisoned with gold thread running through saddle clothes and skirts, and lustrous black leather tack highlighted by silver fixtures and decorations.

"Good King Henry would sell his soul for so much splendor," Bay said under his breath. "The Pope himself might stutter over his rosary from the temptation."

Silvas ignored his horse's comments. "The rider in front is no mere mortal," he said. "He's not one of the gods, but he shares somewhat of their nature."

"Like as not the bastard get of one or another of them," Bay said.

"A half god?" Maria asked.

"Half god, demigod," Silvas said. "Their numbers must be legion here."

"Some more than 'demi,' " Bay added. "Through all of the generations here, many count seven parts of their ancestry from among the gods. Little good it does them in this place."

"Let's not insult his parentage without sufficient cause," Silvas said.

Bay snorted. "I'll mind my manners as long as he and his masters do. Likely not one whit longer, though."

"Until we can see our way out of here clearly, at least," Silvas said, partly a caution, partly a plea.

"I have a high regard for my own neck," Bay said. There was time for little more before they met the three riders.

"I am Argus mac Mikel," the leading rider, the demigod, said. His voice had a degree of hauteur that took ages of unquestioned assumption of superiority to achieve. "My father bade me accompany his sister Carillia to the place of watching."

Maria concealed the intense disgust that Argus evoked in her. She kept her face blank and waited for Silvas to respond to their guide.

"I am Silvas. This is Maria Devry. We are Carillia's heirs." He spoke softly, with no special emphasis.

"You will follow me," Argus said, giving no sign that he had noticed anything unusual in Silvas's recitation. Argus turned his horse. His companions took up positions behind and to either side of him.

Silvas looked to Maria and raised an eyebrow. A warmer welcome than I expected. She replied with a tight smile.

Argus mac Mikel kept to the exact center of the thoroughfare. There was little competing traffic, but the riders and pedestrians the company did encounter moved quickly out of the way. The group from the Glade saw little curiosity among the people of the Citadel. There were no furtive glances from doorways, no open stares from people in the streets.

It's as if they don't want to acknowledge that we exist, Maria thought. If they don't admit that we exist, then they won't be troubled if we cease to exist. It was an unsettling notion.

The ride through the Citadel took more than an hour, even though Argus kept the horses at a fast walk. The procession turned left, then right, ending up on a street that was wide enough for fifty horses to ride abreast. Thin trees with carefully cut and shaped branches flanked this boulevard. To either side, large palaces were set well back on exquisite estates with formal gardens that could be reckoned by the acre.

Silvas and his companions were led to the castle at the far end of the avenue. This palace was the most imposing yet, lording its way over the rows of palaces that lined the boulevard leading to it. This final monument was a castle of such dainty appearance that it could not possibly have existed in the mortal world where form was dependent on the strength of mundane materials. Ordinary stone would have crumbled under its own weight. Narrow towers topped by sharply peaked roofs, two dozen that Silvas could see, rose far above any supporting buttresses. The keep within the walls was also tall, with large windows and far too little stone to support its high walls and massive peaked roof. The stone used to build the palace appeared almost translucent, reflecting light with an iridescent sheen.

Argus led the way into the grounds of this impossible palace, up to the main entrance of the keep—or, more properly, manor house. A dozen stairs spanned fifty yards of the building's front. Pages hurried to hold the bridle and stirrups of Argus's horse while he dismounted. His attendants had to make do with a single page each. No one came to help Silvas or Maria dismount.

Argus clapped his hands and more servants hurried out of the palace. They went directly to the wagon, ready to carry Carillia's bier inside. Satin and Velvet leaped to their feet, arched their backs, and hissed in unison. The servants backed off and looked to Argus, more in fear than for leadership—or so Silvas judged.

"My people will bear their mistress inside," Silvas said before Argus could react to the protectiveness of the cats.

Argus hesitated for an instant while he controlled the quick surge of his anger. Then he nodded once, very curtly. "As you will."

Silvas nodded more slowly, and hid the smile he felt. It was a small victory, but it was a victory.

CHAPTER SIX

The ceilings on the first level of the manor house were more than fifty feet high at the edges of each room, with vaults in the main chambers soaring much higher. Servants directed the gurnetz carrying Carillia's bier to a large room on the east side of the great hall. A series of narrow floor-to-ceiling windows crowded the east wall. They were paired with equally tall mirrors on the west wall, making the chamber extremely bright, and making it look much larger than it actually was. The room was vast, even without the illusory aid of the mirrors, 400 feet long and nearly 300 wide, without a single interior column to hold the vaulted ceiling. At a quick glance, Silvas saw that the keep of the Glade would fit inside this one room without difficulty. And this was not the largest room the visitors had seen in the palace. The great hall was nearly twice as large.

Once Carillia's bier was in position, in the precise center of the chamber, servants came to show the visitors to their rooms. Silvas and Maria were to be quartered in the manor house. Bosc, Koshka, and the gurnetz were shown to a secondary building, back near the stables, where the establishment's "lesser" servants were quartered. Bay, of course, was shown to the stables with the other horses. Satin and Velvet finally consented to part from Carillia. They followed Silvas and Maria.

Argus conducted Silvas and Maria to a suite on the second floor of the palace, up a wide, freestanding staircase that coiled from side to side. There were several landings along the way, each equipped with cushioned benches so that weary climbers could rest before they continued.

"My father will be with you shortly," Argus told Silvas and Maria when he finally left them.

"I never dreamed that any place could be as grand as this," Maria said when she and Silvas were finally alone. She walked around the three-room suite, her eyes taking in every detail of the luxurious furnishings. Satin and Velvet walked with her before taking up positions in the sitting room and curling up on the floor. Even the chamber pot was made of solid gold.

"Self-adornment," Silvas said in unusually clipped tones. "A show to awe lesser beings. Vanity and fear."

"What do gods have to fear, save each other?" Maria asked.

"Much, it seems, from the way they surround themselves with walls and towers and moats as well as glitter and extravaganza. What if a day came when no one in our world gave them any religions to flatter themselves with?"

"I'd think they could find amusement enough on their own," Maria said.

"I wonder." Silvas took a cursory look around the suite, then went to a chair and sat. He leaned back and looked at the ceiling. Up here, above the public halls, the rooms were on a more human scale, opulent but without the sense of overbearing size. The only unusual feature about this room, other than ornamentation, was a small round skylight set precisely in the center of the ceiling. A shaft of sunlight shone through at a slight angle, partially covering a corresponding circle of carved onyx set in the floor.

"Will we become as they are?" Maria asked, looking down into Silvas's eyes. He shuddered visibly.

"I don't think we could. I certainly hope not."

"Seeing the way they live and act may be our best protection against that." Maria sat on his lap, and they hugged—seeking reassurance from each other, not passion. Nothing about the palace or the Shining City inspired them to passion. For all its luxury, Mikel's palace seemed a cold and heartless place, as sterile as a crypt.

"When I first saw the Shining City today, I wondered that Carillia had given it up for me." Silvas held on to Maria as if she were a lifeline. "Now, I see that it wouldn't be a difficult place at all to leave, for anyone who had a heart, any sensitivity at all."

"Carillia had both of those, in full measure," Maria said. She felt no sense of being in competition with Carillia.

"I wonder now that anyone who came from a place like this could ever turn out as fine as she was," Silvas said. "The difficulties she must have faced in breaking free!" There were tears in Silvas's eyes when he buried his face against Maria's breasts. She held him and stroked his hair, waiting for him to control his emotion.

There was a peremptory knock at the door, and Mikel strode in without waiting for an invitation. Satin and Velvet sat up, on alert, but they made no other move.

The Unseen Lord of the White Brotherhood was dressed simply in the same sort of loose clothing that Silvas favored, long shirt over baggy trousers. Instead of boots, though, Mikel wore slippers ornamented with gold and rubies. He came into the room and took a quick look around, a master surveying his domain.

Maria was graceful as she stood and turned to face Mikel. Silvas stood as soon as Maria was off of his lap. There was no trace of distress left on his face. Silvas put a hand against Maria's back and guided her closer to Mikel.

"I think you should know Maria," Silvas said. "She shares Carillia's final gift with me."

The news obviously caught Mikel unawares. His face went blank, then he frowned as he stared more closely at Maria. Finally, he lifted his gaze to Silvas's face.

"Are you saying what you seem to be saying?" Mikel's voice was a grumble that showed no hint of possible pleasure in the news.

"I am saying that Carillia gave her final gift to the two of us, together," Silvas said evenly.

Mikel looked Maria over again, closely, clearly attempting to evaluate her against different standards. Maria inspected Mikel the same way, a conscious mimicry that he could not miss—and obviously did not appreciate. Maria stared at him with precisely the same intensity as he stared at her, and for precisely the same length of time.

"I am certain my sister thought she had her reasons," Mikel said when he finally finished his staring. His tone suggested that he could never conceive what those reasons might have been.

"I understand why she gave her gift to you," he added, meeting Silvas's eyes to make sure that the wizard understood what he was not saying as well as what he was: I don't approve, but I understand why she gave herself to you; I neither approve nor understand why this girl was included.

"I think I understand," Silvas replied, his voice growing softer, his tones bland. It doesn't matter at all whether or not you understand.

"Perchance you are right," Mikel said, responding to both the spoken and unspoken messages. His voice was neutral now, as if the subject had ceased to interest him. "Servants are bringing food for you. We will gather to say our farewells to Carillia when the sun is directly overhead."

Silvas glanced at the sun's beam showing through the skylight again, finally understanding its purpose. The shaft of light was much closer to filling the onyx circle on the floor. He also understood that the day was much longer in the land of the gods than it was on the mortal plane. There had already been enough hours in this day to bring it near sunset.

Silvas turned to Mikel and nodded. "We'll be there."

Mikel nodded once and left.

—|—

The room no longer contained only Carillia, but the hall was so immense that it still felt nearly empty when Silvas and Maria returned with the two cats. Satin and Velvet pawed their way out to Carillia's bier, as if to reassure themselves that she was still there, then they took up positions flanking Silvas and Maria. No seating had been provided. Those who gathered for this final ceremony for Carillia stood—gods, goddesses, demigods, and the most favored of the mortal residents of the Shining City. Silvas and Maria could readily identify the most important attendees, and they could classify most of the others.

Each of the gods and goddesses attracted a group of lesser beings—dependents, relatives, and honored retainers—as entourage. The groups kept themselves separated. By gauging the distance and interactions between one group and another, it was possible to estimate the political winds within the Citadel. Even as outsiders, Silvas and Maria could catch at least the main trends, though both recognized that they were certainly missing the nuances. Politics among the gods could be quite subtle at times.

Gavrien, the musician, held sway in the farthest corner. His entourage was the largest of those who had come for this ceremony. Gavrien had been one of Mikel's closest supporters in the White Brotherhood. His relationship to the Christian faith went back to biblical times, when he and Mikel had contented themselves with occasional appearances as archangels. Gavrien had been the first of Carillia's siblings to arrive for the vigil, entering the chamber even before Silvas and Maria. And as soon as Carillia's heirs took up their positions, Gavrien came to them—alone.

"I was closer to her than any of the others," he said without bothering to introduce himself. His voice carried more bitterness than sorrow. He stared at Silvas's eyes—if not with hostility, at least with no undue civility.

"Carillia never spoke of her relatives, not even of you and your music," Silvas replied, as neutrally as possible.

For a moment more, the two stared at each other. Then, with the slightest nod of his head, Gavrien turned and went back to his entourage.

Gioia, the huntress, twin to Gavrien, took up her position closer to the center of the room, within a few dozen yards of Carillia, full in the light of all of the windows. Gioia wore the guise of an intense yet sensuous woman, small and dark. She had few companions around her, but those who were, stayed extremely close to their mistress. Several times during the vigil, Silvas turned toward her. Each time, Gioia was staring at him. When Silvas met her stare, she held it for a moment, then turned away without acknowledging him. Her alliance with Mikel had had nothing to do with religion.

Barreth stood on the side of the room fairly near the exit, where everyone who came or went would have to pass him. Barreth liked being a god of war. He had played that role for countless tribes and peoples through time. A particular joy for him seemed to be to bring different tribes and people who both worshiped him together to fight each other, lending his support first to one side and then to the other, forcing them to clash until one or both was destroyed. The followers who stood with him were all armed and armored, the only ones in the hall who were. They had provided much of the White Brotherhood's might in the recent conflict.

Desmanic was known as an outsider, even among his siblings. The White Brotherhood was the only one of their coalitions that he had ever supported, and then only marginally. He had been the last to commit to the cause—and the first to walk away. He had taken no part in the great battle. He had never taken part in any of the battles of the others, and only once had he even felt the need to fight in his own defense. Generally, he contented himself with a self-imposed exile—as had Carillia. Except for extremely rare visits to the Shining City, such as this one, Desmanic kept his activities and whereabouts concealed from his brothers and sisters.

Maentus the Sage, known as the wisest of the gods, stood alone, closer to the main door than Barreth even, with only one companion. He too had remained aloof from the fighting, as had Sonolorem, who stood now with a few close adherents, all dressed in orange robes. Maentus was the oldest. His days of glory had come and gone, and he showed no displeasure at their passing. The Greek philosophers had been the culmination of his interest in the mortal world. When their sway had weakened, he had retreated to an almost hermit-like existence in his palace in the Citadel. Sonolorem had wandered far afield, to Cathay and India. He was a rare visitor to the halls of the Citadel.

Vilariema, known to the Greeks as Aphrodite and to the Romans as Venus, surrounded herself with sensuous women to emphasize that even the most beautiful of mortal or semi-divine women could not begin to compete with her own beauty. When she entered the room, she walked first to the center, to look down on the body of Carillia, long her competitor, as if to reassure herself that Carillia were truly dead. Vilariema had also stood apart from the fighting between the White Brotherhood and the Blue Rose. She delighted in causing feuds, not in fighting them.

Mikel was the last of the gods to enter the room. A half dozen of his children, including Argus, preceded him. More followed along with a large contingent of other demigods and mortals, enough to finally give the room some feeling of being occupied.

The other four surviving gods and goddesses of the original twenty would not be attending this gathering. The lone survivor of the five who had backed the Blue Rose feared to come, in case Mikel and his allies felt like wringing their last bit of vengeance on him. Three others who had taken no part in the fighting would also stand aloof from this final scene of that confrontation.

Beginning with Mikel, the gods spoke. The victory had, temporarily at least, made him preeminent among them. There was little sense of ceremony about any of the speeches. These gods felt little need for ritual among themselves. The remarks were generally brief, and scarcely memorable. They spoke of themselves or of Carillia. They spoke of the others who had died in the great battle just finished: Ornavius, who had also fought for the White Brotherhood; and the four who had died fighting against it. Those other dead had been destroyed so completely that there had been nothing left to hold ceremony over. References to feuding among the brothers and sisters were minimal and veiled. Equally cryptic were remarks about powers higher than their own, about what might almost amount to a religion for these gods. Certainly, they acknowledged some power or force that gave minimal constraints to their activities.

Silvas followed those remarks with the greatest of interest.

There were only passing references to Silvas and Maria, the barest acknowledgment of their presence and of the gift that Carillia had chosen to bestow. There was nothing that might be construed as welcome in any of the remarks.

Although none of the gods spoke for long, there were lengthy silences between their addresses. Still, the unnaturally long afternoon seemed to pass quickly. By sunset, the room was virtually dark. But darkness was no barrier to any but the mortals in the assembly, and their comfort was far from the thoughts of Carillia's siblings. No torches or candles were lit.

When darkness was complete, outside as well as in, the vaulted ceiling of the room started to glow with a pale green luminescence, drawing the eyes of everyone below. The ceiling gradually turned into a transparent dome, allowing everyone to see the stars above. For a few minutes, there was only the peaceful view of a clear and starry night.

Then one star exploded, and the room became as light as day. One dying star eclipsed all of the rest of the stars. The glow spread outward while it seemed to race toward the watchers, ranging through all of the colors of the rainbow. When the initial glow of the supernova faded, Carillia's body was no longer in the room. It had been consumed in the distant explosion, carried off to wherever dead gods went.

This is Carillia's memorial, Silvas thought, ignoring the awareness in his mind that the dying star was equally to mark the deaths of all of the divines who had perished in the battle for Mecq.

As the glow continued to fade, servants finally brought torches to light the room.

"A banquet has been prepared," Mikel announced.

—|—

The banquet hall was a room on the west side of the palace that was virtually a mirror image of the room where Carillia had been honored. The cloth that covered the sixty-yard-long table was a single sheet of the finest linen, edged and decorated with embroidery of gold and silver. The tableware was gold and electrum. Precious stones decorated goblets and platters. The food was excellent and rare, the wines exquisite.

The table talk was animated, and occasionally heated, especially among the gods and goddesses near the head of the table. Silvas and Maria were seated at the "low" end of that group, as if only under protest. They were mostly excluded from the conversation. But they had each other, and fine food and wine, to keep them from feeling the full force of their exclusion. Silvas had expected no better treatment. Maria felt a certain relief: exclusion was better than open hostility.

Sweet fruits were served finally as dessert. Two hours and more had passed since the start of the feast. Near the head of the table, Barreth stood and pushed his chair back so forcefully that it tipped over. He had consumed prodigious quantities of wine. He swayed as he stood. Maentus reached out and tried to get Barreth to sit again, but Barreth shook off his brother's arm and growled a harsh reply. Slowly, he walked along the line of diners until he stood directly across from Silvas and Maria. He raised an accusing finger toward them.

"You two don't belong here among us. You are abominations, a bastardization of our noble race. We will not tolerate this cancer long." Then he stormed out of the room.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Barreth's outburst and departure scarcely caused a ripple in the table talk of his brothers and sisters. A few looked up, simply taking notice of the fact that it was Barreth who was leaving. Lower on the table, though, silence fell, and conversation was slow to return. Most of Barreth's dependents followed their master out of the room. Many of the remaining demigods and mortals watched as Barreth strode to the door. Then they turned to gaze, briefly or long, at Silvas and Maria, the focus of Barreth's anger, the cause of his abrupt departure. Even servants stopped what they had been doing to watch, and wonder.

As soon as Barreth turned to leave, Silvas casually lifted his goblet and took a leisurely sip of wine. Maria was almost as quick to do the same.

"This is almost a match for that spicy vintage you like so well," she said, showing not the slightest apprehension.

Silvas took another short sip, rolling the wine around in his mouth for a moment before he nodded. "Not far from it," he said, as if nothing more important than the quality of the wine had intruded on the banquet. On the inner level they shared, he projected, That was most beautifully done!

Maria smiled sweetly. But so transparent.

They do not look for such subtlety from us, Silvas assured her. It will annoy them no end.

But I have completely exhausted my ideas now.

Silvas took another bite of fruit. This was some sort of sweet melon, akin to the Persian variety he procured for the Glade. It may be enough, for the moment.

They did not have to worry about initiating a next step. Only a few minutes passed before Mikel stood, bowed formally to the others near him, and left the room. After that, the banquet broke up quickly. The departure of the host signaled its end.

Some of the departing deities looked at Silvas and Maria, or even nodded to them, before they left. Only Gioia bothered to stop and speak.

"You are an interesting pair," she said, looking from Silvas to Maria. "I am certain we shall meet again." She swept by then without waiting for either of them to respond.

"I think we should check on Bay and the others," Silvas said as he and Maria headed for the door themselves. All of Carillia's brothers and sisters had left the banquet hall. Silvas and Maria were given a wide berth by the demigods and mortals who remained. None of the lesser attendees at the banquet wanted to be seen anywhere near the outsiders, even though the two great cats had remained outside the doors to the banquet room.

"Yes, we should make sure they've been properly cared for," Maria said, matching Silvas's easy tones for the benefit of anyone who might be eavesdropping. "Can you find the way to them?"

"I think so."

Maria took his arm, and they strolled through rooms and along corridors. Silvas showed no hesitation, and he felt convinced that he was taking the most direct route possible. His easy familiarity with the layout of the palace was an almost offhand application of new power. Velvet and Satin ranged ahead and behind them, wandering, prowling, looking for any threat in these strange surroundings—and guaranteeing that their master and mistress would not be approached lightly by any mortal servants of the palace.

There seemed to be plenty of light throughout the palace, sometimes without visible source. A god had no real need of torches or candles for light. For that matter, he had no real need of light. When he wanted it, the ancient command, Fiat lux, was sufficient. But there were those in the palace without the faculties of a god. Occasionally, Silvas and Maria passed a servant or minor retainer of their host or one of the other gods and goddesses. Everyone gave the two large cats plenty of room. No one spoke to Silvas and Maria, though most acknowledged their presence with a polite nod.

"I wouldn't have to walk so far if I were going from my father's castle to the church in the village and back," Maria said after they had spent fifteen minutes weaving their way through the ground floor of the palace.

Silvas chuckled. "At least there is no mountain to scale."

By the time they did reach the stables, Silvas reckoned that they had walked a mile from the banquet hall, most of that inside the palace itself. They found Bosc and Braf with Bay. The cats seemed ecstatic over finding familiar faces. They went around to each of their friends, demanding that Bosc and Braf each stroke them, and rubbing against Bay's forelegs while they purred loudly.

"It is over?" Braf asked.

"Carillia is gone," Silvas said. He told them of the heavenly show that had transpired.

"We saw the starburst and the rainbow," Bay said.

"They told us we were not permitted to attend the service," Bosc said. "It troubled us all, Koshka most."

"I did not know," Silvas said. "In truth, though, you wouldn't have felt comfortable among that company."

"You did all eat properly, though, didn't you?" Maria asked.

"Properly, perhaps, but not in comfort," Bosc said.

"I feel not easy, lord," Braf said. "I have the itch of danger close at hand."

"There is always danger here, Braf," Silvas assured him. "They would have excluded Maria and me as well, had they thought of a way."

"The sooner we get back between familiar walls, the better," Braf said. "I wish we had brought all of my lads and not just the handful."

"We can't leave yet, certainly not tonight," Silvas said. "Come the morning, we should know how long we'll be staying. We may even leave in the morning. I suppose that's as like as not."

"It's been an uncommon long day," Bosc said. "More like two days to my thinking."

"Yes, the days are much longer here," Silvas assured him. "Your thinking is accurate."

"There is much you're not saying," Bay observed. "You're troubled, and not hiding it as well as you normally do."

"There is hostility toward us here, more than I might have anticipated," Silvas said. "Even from those who benefited most from our help."

"You are a deicide," Bay said. "That might pass except that you are not one of the family. Worse, you were a mere mortal when you slew four of their brethren. That must be intolerable for many of them, even those whose lives you may have saved."

"The lack of gratitude grates hard, Bay," Maria said. "Even Mikel shows no appreciation for the centuries that Silvas gave him."

"You know better now, though," Bay said.

"Yes, I know better now," Silvas admitted. "Be on guard through the night. I doubt that anyone will take action so soon, but be on guard just the same."

"Aye, lord," Braf said. "I've already put my lads on watches, two at the time."

"A good idea," Silvas said. "Call on me at need. I will hear." Even before receiving Carillia's divinity, Silvas would have heard the call of one of his servants in danger. His concern for them was constant.

—|—

The way to their rooms was shorter than the way out from the banquet hall. A stairway in a corner tower took them to the second floor, and their suite was nearer the rear of the palace than the front. The cats made a hurried tour of the three rooms to assure themselves that no threat lurked in ambush within. Then they took up positions across the doorway to the corridor. Anyone coming in would have to go past Satin and Velvet to get at Silvas and Maria. It had been ages since the great cats had actually had to come to the defense of their master or mistress, but they remained ready to stand to once again.

"Do you really think it unlikely that we'll be attacked here?" Maria asked.

"Unlikely? Yes. Impossible? No." Silvas paced around the room, working out the tension he had felt compelled to hide before.

"We could leave now," Maria said. "If the night here is as long as the day, we might be back at the Glade before any of the gods knew we were gone."

Silvas stopped pacing for a moment. "No. If any of them has an interest in knowing where we are, he—or she—would know the instant we started to leave, even if no servants have been ordered to watch and report. In any case, we dare not let them see us run from the drunken threats of Barreth. That would be dangerous, perhaps fatal."

"How could we lose support we don't have?"

"As it stands now, perhaps most of them would stand aside in any quarrel. We might not be welcome, but I doubt that many of the others are as ready to return to bloodshed as Barreth shows himself. They will want time as badly as we do, time to forge new alliances or repair old ones, time to arm against whatever they may eventually decide to do. But if we run, they may see us as game for the hunting."

"Gioia?" Maria asked, cocking her head to the side.

"Any of them."

"Have you any feeling yet for which gods seem likely to stand aside, and which are likely to side with Barreth?"

Silvas shook his head. "I can't read their minds as I can yours." He smiled. "Or as you can read mine. The others are separate, not united as we are. They've had eons to perfect the gifts of secrecy."

"So what do we do?"

"We go to bed, get what sleep we may, and think through the morning when it comes. I think it will be proper for us to leave then, with as much show as we arrived. We will depart in broad daylight, with poise and dignity, as if we care not a whit for Barreth and his drunken threats."

"How will we respond to those threats?" Maria asked.

"This isn't the time to think on that. We will respond, somehow, in due course. That too seems essential. But unless there's action against us here, those thoughts can wait until we're home, where we're strongest. The Seven Towers offers safeguards that even a god might find difficult to overcome."

"But we take precautions, as you advised the others?"

Another smile. Silvas took Maria in his arms. "Precautions always. I have centuries of being cautious to draw on."

There was nothing lacking for their comfort in the suite. On a sideboard in the sitting room, there were carafes of several different wines as well as a platter of cheese and fruit, with a long loaf of fresh bread. And the bathroom was appointed better even than the one in their apartments in the Glade. There was even hot and cold running water.

Silvas and Maria took considerable time preparing themselves for bed. Neither was particularly sleepy, despite the unaccustomed length of the day. That was more than merely a reflection of their new divinity. The habit of sleep and sleepiness remained. But each had thoughts to keep a mind active as they moved about the suite. At times, their thoughts touched. When that happened, they would smile at each other, explore the question that had brought their minds together, and then each went on to whatever else came to mind.

"It will take some getting used to," Silvas said after the third or fourth such occurrence. "We remain separate, but still joined."

"The way Brother Paul used to explain the Trinity," Maria said. "Three separate beings, yet one God."

That gave Silvas pause. He had been apart from the open teachings of the Church for so long that the analogy had not occurred to him.

"Then perhaps this has happened before," he mused softly. "I had assumed that we were unique. Perhaps not."

Maria smiled. "Something else we may want to investigate when we have time. Think how much more confusing it would be if there were three of us."

"In a way, perhaps we are three," he suggested. "Something of Carillia does remain."

It's not the same, though, Maria thought, careful to shield that from Silvas. Not all of their thoughts were instantly shared.

—|—

"There may be a lot that these gods don't know about us, or don't reckon on in their appraisal of us," Silvas said when they were finally ready to climb into bed. The lights were out in the other rooms of the suite. Only a single candle remained burning in the bedroom. For comfort rather than need.

"They may not know how to deal with our... dual nature," Maria said.

"That's one of the things. Even we aren't sure how to deal with that yet," Silvas noted. "But I was thinking more of the fact that they may not know how to reckon my mastery of wizardry in the balance. When they needed a wizard, they had to look for a wizard. Mikel found Auroreus first, and then me. The gods of the Blue Rose also found a mortal wizard of their own. There is something of the craft of the Trimagister that must remain a mystery to these gods. There is also the way that Mikel infused me with so much of his knowledge before the final battle at Mecq. Here, knowledge is power, ultimate power, more real and deadly than sword or mace."

Maria chuckled. "Perhaps Barreth and the others should all be quaking with fear of us then," she said lightly.

Silvas gave her a pained look. He did not think it was a proper topic for levity. "Perhaps they at least realize that there are important unknowns. It may stay their hand a time."

"Or rush them so they strike before we learn how to use those advantages?"

They got into the huge bed from opposite sides and met in the middle, nestling against each other, molding themselves comfortably together. They kissed, but without immediate passion.

"Lock your mind to mine," Silvas whispered. "There's no time to give you a decade's apprenticeship in the craft. You'll have to take a more direct route to the skills of the Trimagister. Stay with me."

As soon as Silvas felt Maria's mind lock to his, he went into his routine spells of defense, the nightly safeguards he had been taking before sleep for centuries. They were somewhat different than they would have been if they had been home in the Seven Towers. In all his centuries as a wizard, there had been very few nights that Silvas had spent away from that castle. The magic of the Unseen Lord that had kept him no more than a spell away from the Glade had made nights in other beds quite rare, indeed.

Silvas completed the essential spells of defense first and went on to show Maria other defenses, other spells, such things as seemed appropriate at the moment. No one tour could convey every iota of the lore of the Trimagister, or the experience of so many hundreds of years spent applying, and improving, that lore. But Silvas led Maria to as much as he could, and she absorbed. The rest was there, ready for her to tap it, even if something should happen to Silvas and he were no longer present to complete her education.

This excursion was not a matter of teach and learn, not in any traditional sense. Maria experienced what Silvas did, and it became part of her, as thoroughly as if she herself had lived all of those centuries of wizardry. Deep lore and lucid memory, linked in Silvas's mind from one point to the next, was transferred intact to her own mind, creating new passageways through her brain, new associations. She became the wizard that Silvas had long been.

Together, their minds traveled along interior pathways. On the bed in Mikel's palace, their bodies remained nestled together, motionless. They scarcely breathed. Their hearts beat more slowly.

Don't try to hold it all in conscious memory, Silvas cautioned. Merely let it settle in so it can surface at need.

I understand, she replied.

This is somewhat like what MikeI did to me, Silvas's mind said. But then it was much faster, overwhelming, a rushing waterfall rather than a gentle stream.

After a time, the pace of their interior tour flagged, and both started to be distracted by distant voices and fleeting visions. Those seemed to lead them off into a darkness. They moved that way, the corridors of mind gradually becoming different sorts of paths, more ethereal than the musty depths of memory. There was no obvious hint of danger in this, though.

Maria did not bother asking Silvas what was going on, because she realized that he had no more idea than she did. This was something new to both of them, something to explore together.

Suddenly, one vision became as vivid as reality. A peasant woman was on her knees on the dirt floor of her hut, praying over the motionless body of a little girl. Praying.

The girl is almost dead, Silvas observed.

A terrible fever, Maria said in her mind.

Silvas reached out to touch the child's forehead. He felt the fever, the burning skin. He saw his hand on the forehead, but the mother did not.

Can we help? Maria asked.

If we can't no one can, Silvas replied grimly. He used a spell of healing from his wizard's lore, and willed its speedy success with the new store of power that Carillia had passed to him and to Maria. The little girl's fever moved into his hand and raced up his arm, dissipating slowly.

Then the mother started to recite a "Hail, Mary," and Maria felt herself suddenly begin to tingle.

She's talking to me! was almost a cry of desperation.

Together, Silvas and Maria experienced a memory of Carillia appearing to people as Mary. "It was my place," Carillia's voice said in their minds.

Maria reached out her hands and placed them over the hands of the praying mother. The woman looked up, apparently directly at Maria. Her eyes opened wide, and she gasped, clearly seeing the vision.

"Your little girl will recover," Maria said. She felt as if her body were shaking violently, but there was also an incredible exhilaration to the experience. Blood coursed madly through Maria's body, and the rush of that was repeated in the body of her spirit. The sensation was almost sexual in its intensity. Maria had to pause to control herself, to keep her voice calm when she spoke to the mother again. "The fever is leaving her. Be at peace."

The mother's effusive thanks were cut off suddenly by another plea for help. Silvas and Maria started to move toward this new voice, off in a dark distance.

I can see now why the gods have so often been tempted to interfere, Maria projected to Silvas, who had experienced the event just as she had. There are responsibilities to this gift.

Responsibilities too often ignored by...

Silvas's reply was bit off. The two of them found themselves suddenly caught up in a storm of light. A whirlwind of bright white light rushed around with all of the noise of a cyclone. There was no wind for them to feel, but the commotion was so intense that for a time they were unable to communicate with each other. The bodies of their spirits held hands and stood shoulder to shoulder against the rush of light, waiting for it to end... or to reveal whatever threat it held.

The threat was there, pressing against them, its menace apparent but undefined.

The light storm collapsed as suddenly as it had risen, somehow parting Silvas and Maria as it disappeared. They were standing in an open field under a clear sunlit sky. Maria was more than twenty yards from Silvas. And they were not alone.

Silvas was facing the anonymous figure of a knight clad in plate armor so black that it seemed to be a hole in reality. There were only narrow slits for eyes in the helmet's visor. Nothing of the warrior beneath could be seen. The black knight was taller than Silvas, and heavier by far, judging from the expanse of armor that covered him. The gauntlets made the knight's hands seem easily twice the size of Silvas's hands. And the black-bladed sword he drew appeared to Maria to be almost the size of a lance.

Silvas was dressed only in the loose silks that he customarily wore, without weapon or armor.

The knight kept his eyes aimed directly at Silvas, giving Maria not the briefest glance, as far as she could discern. He raised the black sword above his head and took one slow step forward. Silvas took one step back, raised his right hand, and spoke a word of command.

A sword appeared in his right hand, as gleaming bright as the other's sword was dark, but more in keeping with Silvas's size. A large shield affixed itself to Silvas's left arm. The black knight stepped to his left. Silvas matched the move. The two circled for a moment. Silvas stopped that dance eventually by taking a step back in the other direction, then stopping. He held his sword out in challenge. Those movements put the black knight directly between Silvas and Maria. She nodded, uncertain that Silvas even saw her gesture. He did not speak in her mind, and she did not try to speak to him. If the black knight were truly unaware of her—or unaware of the depth of their communion—that was a secret to hold until it would do the most good.

Tired of waiting, Silvas took a step toward the black knight. He had prepared all of the spells he thought might help. The knight came to meet him. Their swords clashed, high, and rebounded. Several times their blades met in that position as they hacked at each other. Silvas put all of his strength into meeting each blow, and it was scarcely sufficient. The black blade came closer to his head each time, and pressed forward, as if the black knight were not yet exerting his full strength.

After those initial probes, the black knight pressed his attack more vigorously, wielding his sword with as much ease as a child might wave a straw. Silvas met each blow, with increasing difficulty. He spoke his spells and watched them come to naught, serving only to keep the black knight from fully pressing the advantages of strength and reach. There was power in Silvas's spells, more power than he could have managed when he was merely a wizard, but still, they were not sufficient to penetrate the defenses of this phantom assailant.

Maria found herself watching the duel from two vantages at the same time, through her own eyes and through Silvas's. She felt his struggle as if her muscles were fighting, heard the spells he wove. She even felt the shock of swords clashing with great violence behind each blade.

Carefully now, Silvas said. At my word.

No answer was necessary. An idea formed in Maria's mind, as well as the spells to use to try to complete it.

Now! Silvas's voice in Maria's mind was a shout. Without the slightest delay, she spoke a short spell and a single word of power, clamping the black knight's arms to his sides with hoops of the strongest steel a divine mind could imagine—strong enough to hold even a god for a time.

For all of the strength he had displayed, the black knight could not break the bonds that held him. Silvas raised his sword for a sweeping cut aimed to slice the knight from the left side of his neck down to his right hip. Silvas added words of power to the edge of his sword, and to the muscles in his arms. As if released by the springs of a catapult, the sword flashed down, moving so rapidly that it appeared to become a large disc of steel. As the blade cut into the black knight, the suit of armor exploded, hurling pieces of itself in every direction.

There was no body within the armor. No blood showed that any wound had been inflicted.

The black sword bounced across the field and came to rest—but only momentarily. Then the sword came up off of the ground and advanced toward Silvas. No visible hand held the blade.

The duel resumed, with the sword moving more rapidly on its own than it had when the black armor had wielded it. No magic, no words of power, seemed to slow the blade. Silvas's sword was dashed from his hand, and the black blade raised up for the final blow.

Silvas could do nothing to avoid the stroke, but just as the blade started toward him, an explosion of light caught Silvas and Maria again. They could see nothing at all in the glare.

Then they awoke, back in their bed in Mikel's palace, in their bodies again, and alone.

CHAPTER EIGHT

They awoke together, their minds functioning completely as one. When they sat up, moving away from each other on the bed, there was no sense of two individuals separating. The thoughts of one were the thoughts of both as they sought for any hint of attack. They reached out together to contact Bay, Bosc, and Braf Goleg to make sure that none of them had also come under attack. In union, they were able to speak with their companions as clearly as they could have if they had been physically together.

Only when it was clear that there was no physical assault against any of them did Silvas and Maria retreat to their separate personas. They blinked, stared at each other, then turned to look to the doorway of their bedroom in Mikel's palace. Satin was standing there watching them, obviously aware that something had gone wrong. Velvet was still guarding the other door, the entry to the suite.

"It's all right now, kitten," Silvas said. Satin turned and headed back to her mate.

"What was it?" Maria asked, though she knew that Silvas had no better idea than she did. But now that she was back and aware of herself, she had to speak, had to ask.

"I'm not certain," Silvas replied. "I can't even say if the threat was real or merely some nightmare."

"Or an omen?"

Silvas shrugged. "Our fears speaking, perhaps. But I think that it must have been real, even if it was only to test how strong we are on that plane."

"Then why did it end just when it did?"

Neither of them had an answer to that either.

"And the other things, what went before?" Maria asked after a moment.

"Those, I think, were most definitely real."

"Even about Carillia being seen as Mother Mary?"

"Especially that."

They spoke aloud, more for the comfort of hearing each other's voices than for real need. When they moved to get out of bed, on opposite sides, the movements remained almost precisely in unison. They met at the foot of the bed, reaching out to each other, hands grasping for hands. They embraced briefly, and only then did their movements cease being mirror images.

Silvas went to a window and looked out. Maria went to the sitting room to see to the cats. Then she looked out into the corridor outside the suite, careless of her nakedness. There was no one visible in the hallway. There were no sounds of activity. Maria hardly noticed the difference between seeing in the darkened suite and seeing in the torchlit hallway. Her eyes adjusted quickly. She closed the door again and crossed the sitting room to look out one of its windows. She was standing there when Silvas came out of the bedroom.

"It may have been meant as a warning," Silvas said. His voice indicated that he had no great confidence in that hypothesis, but that he did not consider it impossible. "Or an omen of something that someone considers inescapable."

"Or something we ate?" Maria asked with mild sarcasm.

Silvas smiled. "You begin to sound like Bay. No, there was danger in what happened, but I didn't feel mortal peril. It was more as if we fenced with bated blades. Hurt was possible, perhaps even great hurt, but death an unlikely outcome."

He walked to the divan and sat. Satin and Velvet pawed over to him and Silvas spent a moment scratching their necks. "You felt it, too," he whispered, and they looked up at his eyes, not blinking. "Yes, you feel it."

When Silvas finally tired of scratching them, the cats went over to Maria and she gave them a moment's attention. Finally, Satin and Velvet went back to their posts at the suite's entrance.

"A warning to leave right away?" Maria suggested.

Silvas took a moment to consider that. His mind touched Maria's again, and they examined the idea together. Both shook their heads.

"Nothing so simple," Maria said.

"When morning comes, we'll breakfast normally and prepare to leave. Unless something more arises," Silvas said. "Bay and the others will know to expect that we will leave then."

"Particularly after we went to them tonight?" Maria suggested.

"Bosc always seems to know when it is time to leave."

"Morning seems still a long way off," Maria said.

—|—

When that morning came, Silvas and Maria were both dressed before a servant came with a breakfast tray for them and a platter of raw meat for the cats. They all ate with good appetite, but without undue haste.

"This place offers fare as good as the Glade," Maria said, grinning slyly.

"But no better," Silvas countered, and she agreed.

"Shall we take a walk?" Silvas asked after all four of them had finished eating.

Maria stood. The cats were already on their feet. When they left the suite, the servant who had brought their breakfast was waiting in the corridor.

"We'll be leaving shortly, I expect," Silvas told him. "If you would be so good as to see to our things?"

"Yes, Lord Silvas, immediately." The servant bowed quickly, and headed into the suite. Maria, Silvas, and the cats headed toward the stairway in the rear tower.

"The message will get to Mikel quickly enough," Silvas said. "We'll see if he has any parting message."

"You don't expect that he will ask us to extend our visit?" Maria asked, opening her eyes wide in playful amusement. In the light of a new day, the night's worries seemed far removed.

Silvas laughed, which seemed to drain most of the tension from his face. "That would be a right surprise."

When they reached the courtyard in front of the stables, Silvas and Maria found the rest of their party assembled and ready for departure. The team of whites was hitched to the wagon. The mourning draperies had been folded and stored under the drover's bench. Bosc was making a final check of the team's harness. Bay and Girabelle were saddled and harnessed. Braf and his soldiers were standing or squatting in the shade, waiting patiently, well-trained soldiers maintaining discipline despite the surroundings. Bay stood off to the side looking as if he were supervising the preparations—as he almost certainly was. In the land of the gods, Bay had made no attempt to conceal his gifts. Even the mortal servants here were used to greater wonders than a horse who could talk and reason.

Koshka scurried to Maria as soon as he spotted her. "They treated you well, mistress?"

"Well enough, but not so well as you care for me," she said with a smile that seemed to light Koshka up from within. He trotted at her side as she went with Silvas to the others.

"I was right in thinking that we leave as soon as possible?" Bay asked as Silvas and Maria approached.

"You were right," Silvas said. "Has there been any word from our host?"

"Not a sound," Bay said. "Breakfast was ready with the dawn, but no one came to converse or to deliver messages. The rest of your night passed quietly?"

"Peacefully," Silvas said. "And yours?"

"Undisturbed, save by you. Have you identified the assailant?"

"No, and I'm not even certain he was a true assailant."

"His actions don't sound like those of a friend."

"Perhaps it was a warning," Silvas said, lowering his voice. "And perhaps better not spoken of at length here."

Silvas spoke with Bosc, and then with Braf. He spent several minutes discussing security with the warrior. Braf professed himself ready for anything, even the off chance that they might need to fight their way through the Citadel and the rest of the Shining City.

"I don't think it will come to that, Braf," Silvas said, "but between us, I think we could give a fair accounting of ourselves before it ended."

Two servants came out of the palace with the things that Silvas and Maria had brought. Their bags were stowed in the back of the wagon. Neither servant had any message from their master. After they started back toward the main building, Silvas looked at Maria, smiled, and shrugged.

No more than I expected. They'll all be happier once we've left.

Maria returned his smile. Once we're gone, perhaps they'll be satisfied to forget all about us, maybe even deny that we exist.

"As long as you two are certain that the rest of us don't need to know what you're talking about," Bay said, moving between the two of them.

Silvas and Maria both looked at him. Silvas was more surprised than Maria that the horse seemed to know that they had been conversing.

"Anyone looking at the two of you might have guessed that you can read each other's minds," Bay said, answering the question in the wizard's stare.

"It's not quite that simple, Bay," Silvas said. "But, again, it's something I don't feel comfortable talking about in this place."

"Then let's put this place behind us as quickly as we may," Bay said.

"Braf, are you ready?" Silvas called.

"Aye, lord, whene'er you say."

"Bosc? Koshka?"

Both esperia bobbed their heads and scrambled up to the drover's bench of the wagon. Satin and Velvet took up positions in the wagon's bed, behind them. Silvas helped Maria to mount her horse, then he climbed aboard Bay.

"I hope you remember the way out of the city," Silvas said to Bay. "I doubt that Argus will come to show us."

"I remember the way," Bay said. "You think the road will remain open from the city to the Seven Towers?"

"If it isn't, I'll find our way from gate to gate," Silvas said. "But I think that it will be there. Our hosts will be too glad to see the last of us to make the leaving difficult."

The gate of Mikel's palace grounds was open. The guards flanking the gateway scarcely showed that they noticed Silvas and the others leaving. They did not stop them, or offer any message. Mikel did not come to say farewell.

Bay picked his way surely through the Citadel, moving somewhat more rapidly than they had traveled the day before, but not showing undue haste. He alternated a rapid walk with a trot.

"Not too abruptly," Silvas cautioned Bay at one point. "We don't want anyone to get the idea that we are fleeing for our lives."

"I do know how to calculate such things," Bay replied. "We will make the best time that is seemly. Look. Girabelle and the team pulling the wagon are in a comfortable rhythm. Even Braf and his men are not straining."

"Just a reminder, Bay," Silvas said easily. "The folk of this place will be much finer in the way they reckon such things."

Bay did not bother to reply. Neither did he slow his pace. Silvas smiled and relaxed, looking to Maria. She reached out to him, and they rode hand in hand for a moment—not for long, because the difference in size between their horses meant that it was an uncomfortable stretch.

The people of the Citadel, and of the larger city beyond its walls, paid no more attention to the group from the Glade than they had the day before. If anything, they were ignored even more completely than they had been on their arrival. Competing traffic seemed to flow easily around them. There was no glowing way in the Shining City to show Bay the path, but he never hesitated. The gate of the Citadel, and the city gates, were open. The drawbridges were down, and free of traffic, when they reached them. Silvas and his companions went straight on through the city without stopping, and once they were across the moat that ringed the Shining City, the road was there before them, retaining the soft ivory glow that had led them into the land of the gods.

Silvas and Maria paid less attention to the landscape in the land of the gods than they had on the journey to the Shining City. An occasional scan to make sure that it held nothing new—and potentially threatening—was sufficient. They had more than enough to keep their minds occupied without frivolous sightseeing.

"There's so much, it's hard to know where to begin," Maria complained after they had transversed half of the plain.

"For me as well," Silvas said. "I reach out and take in everything that seems to be close, then reach out a little farther the next time. I can't even begin to anticipate the farthest edge yet."

"Like being at the center of ripples in a pond," Maria suggested.

As they approached the edge of the valley of the Shining City, Silvas and Maria watched the road ahead of them with more interest, waiting to see if the way lay open all of the way to the Seven Towers. The gentle grade finally peaked, and they started down again, on an equally gentle slope. The road continued to stretch out in front of them, absolutely straight. In the distance, a mist kept them from seeing the long bend in the road or the Seven Towers at its end.

"We couldn't see all of the way to the Glade when we were at this point coming out," Bay reminded the others.

"True," Silvas conceded, "but the vista does look different. The mist appears to be glowing now."

"Doubtless we'll know more when we get closer," Bay said.

When they resumed their travel, they seemed to move more rapidly than their actual pace warranted, as if the road were in a hurry to get rid of their weight. The auroral glow over the far end of the road seemed to swell, mostly a peach color, with many different shadings of pink and orange visible, softly radiant.

"Quite different," Silvas commented. He reached over to touch Maria's arm and, together, they reached out with Silvas's telesight to investigate the visual mystery.

But they could not penetrate it.

"Someone has done something," Silvas decided, but he could not fathom it yet. "I'm anxious for a closer look. Now that we are beyond the valley of the Shining City, more speed would not be amiss."

Bay nodded and picked up his pace a little. Girabelle and the team pulling the wagon immediately accommodated themselves to Bay's increased speed. Silvas glanced back to make certain that Braf and his men weren't distanced, but Braf showed no sign that he found the new pace the least discomforting. His gurnetz soldiers picked up the tempo without complaint.

"If our valley lies under that glow, then the Seven Towers is either under attack or someone has somehow isolated it," Bay said.

"Let's hope it's not an attack, Bay," Silvas said, beginning to get anxious about the mist hanging over the far end of the road.

"It may be nothing serious at all," Maria said. "We don't know yet. Can you feel danger from the glow?"

Silvas reached out with his mind to test that before he shook his head. "I feel nothing at all from it, one way or the other. Stay with the others, Maria. I think that Bay and I should ride ahead to see what we can learn." Are you with me?

Closely, Maria assured him.

"Bay?"

The giant horse needed no further urging. He stretched out into a canter that looked effortless despite its speed, then into a hard gallop that could cover a three-mile league in three minutes, a pace no normal horse could match. It was rare enough that Bay found the opportunity to extend himself in this fashion.

Silvas had no difficulty maintaining his seat. He was even able to continue projecting himself forward, straining his telesight for some definition within the pastel shadings of the strange mist or aura that spread out across the road in the distance.

At first, Girabelle wanted to run with Bay, but Maria held her back until she settled down.

Braf came trotting around the wagon. "What's the trouble?"

"We don't know if it's trouble or not," Maria said. "You see that light over the road?"

"Aye, my lady."

"Silvas is going to see if there's any threat to it. Stay close to me. I'll know the instant he does."

Maria split her awareness as easily as if she had been doing it since birth. Her mind, and vision, rode with Silvas, far ahead. At the same time, she was fully aware of Braf and the others with her. She could even spare thought to guess that even a three-way split would pose no special difficulty, should that become necessary.

As Silvas drew closer to the pastel shroud, it was clear that it was a diffuse light, not a proper fog or mist. There was no dampness to it, and once he passed through its border, it no longer blocked his vision. The glowing road took its long bend into and under the light. The valley of the Seven Towers was there, completely covered by the light, a veil over the valley. Within it, he could see the Glade. He stopped Bay, just within the veil.

The Seven Towers still stand, Silvas told Maria.

I see. There's no sign of damage or danger. Will you ride on to the Glade?

Silvas hesitated for a moment. He moved Bay until they were right at the edge of the veil, where Silvas could see both into the valley and back out at the others on the road, still more than two leagues away.

No, I'll come back to you, Silvas told Maria. He turned Bay away from the valley, and they galloped back to the others.

"There's no special feel to it at all," Silvas said, looking at Braf and then at the two esperia on the wagon. "It shows no nature of evil or good. It merely is."

"Nor any idea of what it is," Bay added, sounding almost confused. "I know not what to make of it."

"We'll have to investigate it fully," Maria said.

"But first, we have to get home," Silvas said.

"We can bear a somewhat faster pace," Braf assured Silvas before he dropped back to rejoin his soldiers.

Bay took the gurnetz at his word. The group covered the remaining five miles to the edge of the aura in little more than twenty minutes. Then, within the edge of the glow, they stopped for a short break, more to give everyone full opportunity to see what lay before them than for any real need to rest.

"This lane from the Shining City permits no detours," Silvas said after trying to get off of it with Bay. "We'll have to go on home before we can investigate."

"Perchance this aura will disappear once the road does," Bosc suggested. "It may be no more than part of that phenomenon."

"It wasn't here when we left," Bay reminded him. "Yet, I must confess that what you say is possible."

The road led them right to the gate of the Seven Towers. Once the group had crossed over the drawbridge and through the castle's gate, the spectral road did vanish.

But the glow overhead remained.

CHAPTER NINE

The birds of the Seven Towers came out to greet Silvas and the others as soon as they emerged in the courtyard. The dirge was gone from their song. They wove cheerful music over the travelers, welcoming them home. If the peach-colored tint to the sky bothered the birds, they did not show it in their song, or in the way they capered about.

"It doesn't appear to be a threat," Silvas conceded, his head tilted back so he could look directly up at the colored sky, "but I don't like not knowing what it's about. I think we should have a look immediately."

"Yes." Maria had not bothered to dismount, since Silvas had not. The cats had leaped down from the wagon, but everyone else was waiting.

"I'll see to our defenses here," Braf said.

"Bosc and I'll see to the rest," Koshka said.

Silvas and Maria turned their horses back to the gate. They crossed the drawbridge—the normal vista of the valley lay outside the walls of the Seven Towers now—and headed toward the nearest edge of the valley, now to the west of the Glade.

"The folk in the village will have questions," Silvas said as they cantered toward the forest that covered the slope. "But I'd like to have answers before we hear the questions."

"I'm surprised there weren't people from the village waiting for us when we arrived," Maria said.

"They knew we were gone, no doubt, but they couldn't know when we would return. Our people here have seen a lot, and have tales about more than they've seen. Having all three sorts of people makes this village unique. It takes more to frighten them than it does the good people of Mecq—or most other villages in the realm."

Within the valley, the peach-colored sky did not have the appearance of a bubble or aura as it had had from the outside. The sky was a strange color, but the sky seemed normal apart from that. There were a few high clouds, an even lighter tint of the basic peach color on top and a rust color below, and on the shadow sides. The sun was still visible, moving toward mid-afternoon. The sky gave the greens of grass and trees an unusual cast, but the overall visual impression was pleasant, almost an improvement over what nature had granted. It had a warm, comfortable feel to it.

But neither Silvas nor Maria felt comfortable. The sky might yet harbor some dire menace.

The hillside forest never came within two hundred yards of the Glade's moat. There was no deep cover for any enemy close to the walls. Silvas and Maria followed a path that led up the slope toward the edge of the valley. The Seven Towers itself was on high ground, but not the highest ground in sight.

Where the forest canopy was thickest, there was little hint of the strange sky. The greens and grays of nature seemed to remain undisturbed, somber, quiet.

"A beautiful place," Maria said. They had to ride slowly climbing the tree-covered slope. "I never dreamed any place could be this lovely."

"Given a few years of proper water, the valley of Mecq will be as beautiful," Silvas replied. "There's no special magic making this valley look the way it does—save for whatever this new magic is."

The trees thinned out as they approached the top of the hill. And the pink-peach-orange sky dominated again.

"It seems to follow the ridgeline exactly." Maria moved her arm and pointed to emphasize her words. "It jumps from peak to peak and dips down into the passes between them."

Bay stopped for a moment. He looked one way and then the other. "To my eyes, it seems to be a veil, a distinct line, as if someone has cast an immense sheet of some gossamer fabric over the valley."

"Let's test the veil then," Silvas said, and Bay moved forward.

Bay moved right to the edge of the veil and stopped again. He seemed to have a better perspective on it than either Silvas or Maria did. To them, there was a fuzziness rather than a distinct border.

"There's no feel to it at all," Silvas said. "I can see it, but I can't touch it with my mind, or identify the signature to the magic."

"Shall I press through?" Bay asked.

"Go ahead."

But Bay encountered a problem. His head seemed to press against a physical barrier.

"It wasn't like this before," Bay said.

Silvas could feel the resistance that Bay had met. He reached forward with his mind and pressed with Bay against the barrier. Only then could Bay make any progress. Slowly, he stepped forward, into the barrier, forcing it to stretch around him. Finally, he broke through, and the barrier snapped shut behind. Maria followed on Girabelle, keeping her horse's nose as close to Bay's tail as possible. Even so, Girabelle had more difficulty getting through the veil than Bay did. Maria had to be especially firm with the horse to keep her from shying away from the attempt.

The sky beyond the veil was normal. Looking west, or anywhere but back into the valley, the sky was blue, the clouds untinted white and gray.

"It is just our valley," Silvas said as Maria emerged from the veil. "The land looks different as well here just outside."

"It does look strange," Maria said, "all twisted awry."

"If we were to go on a little ways and look back?" Bay suggested.

"Yes, let's," Silvas said.

The slope on this side of the hill was steeper than it was within the valley of the Seven Towers, but Bay and Girabelle were able to pick their way down and away from the ridgeline, moving somewhat to the north in the process.

"There's a road, about a half mile from this point," Silvas said. "If we follow that road for a few hundred feet, we should be able to get a good look."

It was a strange ride that seemed to defy natural law. The scenery seemed to press close against horses and riders on either side, while stretching away oddly before and behind. Riding side by side, or in line, Maria and Silvas could even see the distortion in each other.

"Has something gone wrong with our eyes?" Maria asked after they had examined both sorts of distortion.

"No. Whatever this is, it's part of the magic that cups its hand over the valley," Silvas said. "I can still get no grip on that."

As soon as they reached the road, they looked back toward the ridge. There were trees obscuring the immediate view, but both Maria and Silvas noticed instantly that they were not seeing what they expected to see.

"The halo is almost invisible," Maria said.

Silvas shook his head. "I know the ridgeline here. I've seen it often enough over the centuries. That is not the line that exists at this point. Let's move farther on along the road. We should have a better vantage just past that bend."

When they reached the outlook, Silvas pointed up at the ridgeline again. Now, there was no hint of the peach-colored aura hanging over the valley. "That's wrong. It's as if the valley of the Seven Towers no longer exists."

"Let's go on to the crossroads," Bay suggested.

That was another mile and a half along the narrow track they had been following. There were two roads that crossed the valley of the Glade, one from east to west across the narrow diameter of the valley, the other north to south, along its length. The road coming in from the west toward the valley ended at the lane that Silvas and Maria had been following. Rather, it merged with the lane, going south, back the way they had come.

Silvas closed his eyes and concentrated.

"The road is still there," he announced after a moment. "It's simply not visible. Bay, head along the road, as you remember it, not as you see it now."

"It's an effort," Bay said after he had taken several steps. "There's a dizziness in my head that I have to fight against."

"We feel it as well," Silvas said. He glanced back. Girabelle was fighting Maria's control. Silvas gave a quick spell of calming for the other horse. "Keep her nose as close to Bay as you can," he told Maria. "She'll follow Bay, no matter how impossible the view is to her."

At first, it looked merely as if the horses were trying to climb the hill without a path, fighting their way up a difficult slope. Then, the terrain seemed to scrunch in against them from the sides, as if they were figures on a painting that someone had wadded up. There was no sign of the aura hanging over the valley beyond the hill in front of them.

...Until Bay came right up to the ridgeline and pressed against the barrier. Then, the road was visible directly beneath his feet. The pastel coloring was in front of him, and—through that filter—they could see the valley of the Seven Towers, but only as dark shadows.

Once more, Bay had to exert himself to break through the barrier. Girabelle found it almost impossible to follow. When Maria finally did get Girabelle's nose through the shroud, by exerting her own will, she found Silvas waiting. Bay had turned around to watch the veil during the struggle to get Girabelle through.

"Someone has very effectively quarantined our valley," Silvas said. Girabelle was panting hard from the effort. It had quite clearly taxed her strength almost to the limit.

"Barreth?" Maria suggested.

Silvas shrugged. "His name does come to mind first, but it could as easily have been Mikel, or any of the others. One or more of the gods doesn't want us contaminating the rest of this world. Doesn't want the world to know about our valley. We needed to use real power to break through. I doubt that any mortal could do it alone, even a wizard."

"They'll be anxious about this in the village," Bay said.

"Yes, we need to go there next," Silvas said. "And then beyond. We need to check the other passes."

"I don't think Girabelle is up to another effort like this last," Maria said. "It is completely beyond her."

"We'll test the veil on foot after this," Silvas said.

Bay held his pace to a slow walk as they followed the road down the slope of the hill toward the village. Even so, Girabelle quickly lagged behind, tired from the trek back from the Shining City and from all that had been required of her since. The villagers had plenty of time to see them coming, even though they were not coming from the direction of the castle. People—of all three sorts who worked in the Seven Towers—started to gather at the crossroads at the exact center of the valley, just on the southern edge of the village.

Bay stopped right in the intersection, and Silvas dismounted.

"Lord Silvas, what has happened to us?" one of the humans in the group, March the miller, reeve of the village, asked.

"Someone has thrown a veil over us, Master March," Silvas said. "The world beyond is still there. We are merely cut off from it for the time being. An outsider wouldn't even know that our valley is here. The roads bend around us, as if we had disappeared from the face of the earth."

"We can't get out, and outsiders can't get in?" That came from one of the esperia, a farmer, first cousin to Koshka.

"Not at present, Eschmin," Silvas said. "It takes an effort even for me to penetrate the veil, and I have more power than I dreamed of a week past."

"Who attacks us?" March asked.

"I don't know of a certainty that it is an attack, or exactly who has cut us off from the world," Silvas replied. "I assume that it was one of the gods. It would take godly power to do this, or to make it difficult for me to pass through?"

"One of the gods?" Eschmin asked, an edge of fear showing in his voice.

"One of the old gods," Silvas said. There was a trace of a smile on his face now, but it was a grim smile. The villagers knew, on a superficial level at least, what had happened to Silvas and Maria, that they were themselves now gods. "It may even have been for our protection that the veil was erected," Silvas continued, though he could not convince himself that it was true.

"But how can we get goods in from outside?" March asked. "We don't make everything we need here."

"Salt, especially," Eschmin added. "Where will we find salt?"

"If the way remains blocked to normal commerce long, I'll see that we get whatever is needed," Silvas said. "The way is not closed to Maria and me."

"I have a cousin over in Darping on Wey," March said. "What will the folk there think when our village is missed?"

Silvas uttered a short laugh. "If the situation remains, we will become a myth, a reality outsiders cannot prove. But be at peace. I feel no threat in this fruity sky. So far, it is merely an annoyance."

"Will you be able to clear the veil from our sky?" another villager asked. "Will things ever be as they were?"

"It's too soon to know for sure," Silvas said. "But this valley is under our protection, and that is no mean blessing. And now, we have to check the rest of it. When I have word, I'll make sure you all hear what I learn."

Each of the other ways out of the valley was similarly blocked. On foot, Silvas and Maria could press through the veil with only a modest effort of will, but they could not rip the airy fabric of the barrier. It remained intact, hiding the valley of the Seven Towers from any mortal eyes.

Finally riding back to the castle after examining the last blocked road, Maria put words to the thought that she and Silvas shared.

"It seems we're not to be left in peace, after all."

Bay commented, "The battle is not over."

"I think we need to hold a Council, as quickly as possible," Silvas told them.

CHAPTER TEN

Bay withheld comment. A formal Council when they were not involved in the problems of some town or village away from the Glade was exceedingly rare. There had been one after the death of Auroreus, when Silvas became master of the Seven Towers. There had not been another until Prince Richard took the Cross and called for men to join the Second Crusade, and Silvas had debated answering the call. Those had been the only two instances in all of the centuries that Silvas had ruled the Seven Towers.

You speak of a Wizard's Council. But what of a Council of gods? Maria asked as they rode back toward the Glade.

Silvas turned to her and smiled. "It will be interesting to note any differences."

Bosc was, as usual, waiting in the bailey for the horses when Silvas and Maria returned to the Seven Towers.

"We won't wait for night, Bay," Silvas said as he dismounted. "Bosc, Maria and I are going to summon a Council, within the hour. I'll come for you as always. Sleep is no longer necessary." He had not sought that information. It was simply there, in his mind when it was needed.

Bosc looked startled, but quickly recovered. "Aye, lord. Whene'er you call."

"Fine. Do you know where Braf is? I'll want to speak with him before the Council."

"I'll find him for you, lord," Bosc said.

"Wait, never mind. I'll see to it," Silvas replied. He called Braf's name in his thoughts. Come to me in the library. He felt Braf's instant reply, and the surprise that accompanied it.

"We should have something to eat before the Council," Maria said as she and Silvas entered the keep. Satin and Velvet were waiting for them.

"I'm sure Koshka has something waiting for us." Silvas reached down to pet the cats. "We have work to do in a while, kittens." They angled their ears toward him and settled down quickly. Work always came before play.

"In the small sitting room," Maria said after probing outward to find where Koshka had their food. "Do you want it in the library instead?"

"No. We'll go to the library first to speak with Braf. Then we'll have time for our light repast before the Council."

Braf Goleg caught up with Silvas and Maria before they reached the library in the tower.

"What is it, lord? Something about the veil that hangs over us?"

"Bide a moment, Braf," Silvas said. "It will wait until we're comfortable."

In the library, Silvas and Maria sat on chairs close to each other and relaxed. At Silvas's insistence, Braf squatted near them. He was much more comfortable squatting than he ever could have been in a chair. Chairs were alien to gurnetz anatomy.

"What is it, lord?" Braf asked again.

"I have a request to make of you," Silvas said.

"Whatever you want of me, lord. You know that."

"Answer not before you know what I ask," Silvas said. "This is no command, nor anything to volunteer for without careful reflection. I will ask more of you now than I ever have before, friend Braf."

Braf hesitated for an instant before he nodded, but Silvas and Maria both felt the apprehension that flashed through the gurnetz's mind. "Ask what you will, lord." Braf's voice was softer than Maria had yet heard him speak.

"I ask you to be a permanent counselor to Maria and me, a member of my Wizard's Council," Silvas said.

"As Bay and Bosc are, lord?"

"Yes. You know the implications?"

"Mayhap, lord, but perhaps you should spell them out so I make no mistake?"

"Of course. There is power in this, Braf, but the responsibilities, and the price, are considerable. Bay and Bosc have been my counselors for hundreds of years, since the death of Auroreus. Barring disaster, they will continue to be my counselors for as long as I live and hold power."

Silvas paused then, watching Braf's eyes closely, giving the warrior time to consider the implications of what he had said. Wizards were not immortal, though their lives might be prolonged far beyond the span of Methuselah if they had been favored by one of the gods. But gods...

"And generations of my children, and their children, will age and die while I go on as I am?"

Silvas nodded slowly. "It's a heavy price, Braf, too heavy for many. I will not gloss over that. In time, it must lead to a separation, however hard you struggle against it. Your family will grow more and more distant until they scarcely recall that you are their ancestor. And there can be greater danger in Council than you have ever known defending the walls of the Seven Towers. I would welcome you warmly as a counselor, but I don't demand it. This must be your own free choice. I can't in good faith even counsel you to accept. There is no disgrace if you decline this burden. I'll not think less of you. Think carefully before you answer."

Braf rested his forearms on his legs and looked at the floor between his feet for a moment. Then he stood and paced across the library and returned to his previous spot, his eyes still on the floor. He turned toward Silvas then, but he was slow to raise his eyes.

"Lord, I've been your servant since I was a pup. I know no other life. I ask nothing else. If you want me as your counselor, I can only accept and thank you humbly for the honor."

Silvas stared into Braf's eyes for a long moment before he nodded. "I thought such would be your answer. I honor your courage, as I always have. See to the disposition of your guards. I will summon a Council shortly. I'll come for you when the time is right. There, in Council, I'll ask you again for your decision. Nothing is final until that time. Think carefully over what you have agreed to. There will be no shame if you change your mind. A decision like this requires every opportunity for reflection."

"I will think on't, lord," Braf said, still subdued. "But I have taken my decision." He turned and left the library, his eyes still downcast.

"A hard decision for anyone," Maria whispered.

"I know." Silvas stood and reached for Maria's hand. When she stood, they embraced, briefly. "I feel for him. Braf takes such delight in his children."

"He will stand by his decision," Maria said.

"Yes, but there will be times when he doubts the wisdom of that choice. It took many tens of years for Bosc to fully accept it."

"And Bay?"

Silvas shook his head. "Bay is unique. There is no other like him in all the worlds I've seen. There have been times when I've almost felt as if I were his counselor."

—|—

Koshka had provided much more than a light snack for Silvas and Maria. There was almost a full meal waiting in the small sitting room—meat and cheese, bread and green onions, and ale, rather than wine. The last amused Silvas.

"He must think we have heavy work, indeed, ahead of us," he said after allowing himself a full laugh. "Or great thirst after our riding."

Maria took a long drink of the ale before she replied. "A good choice, perhaps. I am quite thirsty."

They ate quickly, unsuspected hunger pushing aside any delicacy of etiquette.

"Even if we no longer have real need of food, our state has certainly not robbed me of the desire," Maria said. "I have more appetite than I ever had before."

"Nor have I lost the craving for good food," Silvas agreed. They both laughed.

"Laughter," Silvas said then. He raised a hand, one finger pointed up. "It comes easily to us, even with the veil over our valley."

"As if there truly is no danger to it?" Maria asked.

Or danger blocked so completely from our view that we can't even see it, Silvas replied.

The rest of the meal was subdued.

"An hour and a bit more has passed," Silvas said eventually. "The others will be looking for me. For us."

With work about to begin, their minds were once more as one, attuned perfectly. They rose from the table together and climbed the stairs into the tower, going to the workroom above the library. This time, Silvas carried his wizard's staff, a thick quarterstaff tipped with silver on one end and iron on the other. Satin and Velvet accompanied them, and went directly to their protected circles along the perimeter of the workroom.

Maria went into the center of the pentagram with Silvas. They stood back to back, touching. When Silvas spoke the initial spells of defense and activation, Maria spoke in perfect unison. The two of them moved as if they were physically one, turning to the points and sides of the pentagram for each stanza of the preparatory spells, and when they sat, still back to back, the movement was identical. Seated cross-legged in the central pentagon of the display, they spoke the spells of separation as one. Both rose from their physical bodies in perfect Doppelgängers.

Maria looked down at the physical body she had left behind. She could see her mouth still speaking the words of the final spell. This was a first for her, and Silvas gave her a moment to satisfy her curiosity. They then held hands as they walked out of the pentagram and through the wall in their spirit bodies.

Bay was in his stall, sitting with his legs folded under him. Bosc was reclining on a bale of hay at the side of the stall. Unlike normal horses, Bay could be trusted not to gorge himself on any fodder left within reach. Silvas and Maria extended their free hands toward Bay, and he stood in the spirit and walked off through the wall, leaving his physical body behind. Then they gestured to Bosc, and he also rose out of his body to follow Bay.

Silvas and Maria went through the wall in another direction and came upon Braf Goleg in an upper room of one of the corner towers. There was no lapse of time in the passage. They had gone directly from workroom to stall as if they had been separated by only one wall. They passed from stall to tower the same way. Braf saw them come in through the wall, and he was obviously startled that he could see straight through them.

"Lie down and close your eyes," Silvas instructed. Braf quickly complied. "Breathe easily, as if preparing for sleep."

Silvas hesitated for only a moment before he continued. "Now stand up."

Braf stood up, coming out of his body.

"Look down at yourself," Silvas said. "Don't be alarmed. This is normal for a Council."

Braf looked closely at his physical body, noting that the chest still rose and fell in normal respiration. After a moment, he turned away from his resting body and looked to Silvas.

"I am ready, lord."

"Go through that wall to the others. We'll be right behind you."

—|—

The Council met in a place that had no true physical existence. It appeared to be a room, but it was too vaguely drawn to belong in the world of material being. The boundaries where ceiling, floor, and walls met were unclear, merging into each other in a way that made the junctions impossible to define with any great precision. The room was lit by an equally undefined light, showing neither source nor shadow. In the center of the room there was a round wooden table. Three chairs faced it, all on one semicircle. Silvas sat in the middle chair. Maria sat at his right, and Bosc at his left, equally spaced. Bay and Braf Goleg stood on the other side of the table. Even in the spirit, Braf would have found a chair uncomfortable. In the Council chamber, Bay did not seem so overwhelmingly large. Bosc and Braf seemed more of a height with the humans.

There was an almost palpable serenity to the room. Neither Bay nor Bosc showed any curiosity over the fact that Braf stood in Council with them.

"I have invited Braf Goleg to become a permanent member of this Council," Silvas announced. "You know of his faithful service as commander of our guard, and of his ancestors for untold generations. He has the mind and the heart to be part of this Council.

"Braf Goleg, I ask you again, with all of the cautions I spoke of earlier: Will you accept this responsibility?"

"I will, lord," Braf said.

"Do you accept it freely, knowing the dangers and cost?"

"I do, lord."

Silvas lifted his hands as if in priestly benediction. A rainbow of lights arced between his hands, then vectored across the table to surround the gurnetz, settling into the body of his spirit and making it appear—momentarily—almost solid. When the rainbow faded, Braf's form returned to the same near transparency as the others.

"You are now one of us, Braf. It has been many long years, centuries, since we have welcomed someone new to our numbers. The last was Carillia." Mentioning her name now, in Council, brought an unexpected pain to Silvas. He paused, willing his heart to remain calm, pushing aside the insistent memories of Carillia that flooded his mind.

"Maria is here now, not in Carillia's place, but because she shares the final gift of Carillia with me. She is me and I am her, in a way that none of us have ever known. We welcome you, Braf Goleg, and we thank you, with all that we are and have."

"I am yours to command, lord," Braf replied.

"We have much to consider," Silvas said, taking a slow look around the table. "Since the last time we met in Council, the Battle for Mecq has been concluded, Carillia has died, Maria and I have inherited her final gift, my old bonding to the Unseen Lord of the White Brotherhood—and my long missions in his behalf—are ended, we've been to the Shining City of the gods, and the valley of the Seven Towers has been somehow quarantined. The villagers cannot leave the valley. Outsiders not only can't come into the valley, they can no longer even see it from beyond. I've felt no immediate threat from this barricade, but it is certainly an inconvenience to our people. It was probably intended as an insult to us. Unfortunately, even an insult can be dangerous among those with whom Maria and I must, to some extent, deal—the few who have the power to erect such a barricade. An insult not adequately countered is considered a sign of weakness to these gods, an invitation to further action. On a broader scale, there is the new state of our world to consider, the way that Britain and Ireland have apparently been sundered from Europe and turned about. Is there danger in this?"

As he talked, Silvas noticed differences between this Council and all of the sessions that had come before, when he was merely a wizard-potent. His words now served merely as introduction, or index, to each topic. Pictures seemed to float in the room as illustrations, as necessary, and more information touched each of the minds at the table with him. Communication was more complete, less subject to misinterpretation. Council had never been so inclusive before, not even when Carillia had spoken. Carillia had masked her divinity until the morning of her death. Silvas and Maria wore their new divinity openly.

"I am a newcomer to this Council," Maria said when Silvas finished speaking. "But I will not speak as you might expect a newcomer to. All of Silvas's past is open to me. We are one as much as we are two. I experience his memories as clearly as he can, and he experiences mine. But I do bring a new point of view. Aside from this shared past, I have my own past, my own outlooks. My body may be young. My spirit no longer is.

"All of us here have been to the land of the gods and had some chance to see how the old gods live, and how they feel about us. They are all our enemies, whether through active hate or idle bitterness. Even Mikel, the Unseen Lord of the White Brotherhood, can never be trusted fully. He is no longer master here, and he is no sure ally. At best, we may hope for—but never depend on—his neutrality. We must look to our own defenses, with no more than our own resources, now and most likely forever.

"The forced seclusion of this valley is perhaps our most pressing problem. On this we need advice and more information. It's something to be studied at length and depth.

"This other change, the physical rearrangement of Britain and Ireland, puzzles me as well. I see neither advantage nor danger, no reason at all for it. I think it would be well if we all gazed upon the changes directly."

No further words were necessary. There was no need for magical incantation. Linked together, the minds of Silvas and Maria soared from the ethereal room of the Council, taking the consciousnesses of the others with them, separate yet together, linked in Council almost as fully as Silvas and Maria were linked even outside it. There was a quick ascent into the sky, a heady sensation even for Silvas, who had felt similar ascents before. The five of them looked down on the world from the heavens, a circle of invisible faces, high enough to clearly see the new islands and the continent they had been split free of. They saw the new water flowing through the gaps, the English Channel and the Irish Sea. Silvas pointed out cities and landmarks to orient the others. Then they all looked more closely at the places where the land had been fractured. Finally, they looked for the valley of the Seven Towers.

But the valley was not there. The Pennines themselves had changed. The mountains at either side of the valley had, as far as Silvas and the others could see, moved together into a thicker ridge, completely obliterating any trace of the valley. The roads moved around it. The land itself seemed to hold no memory that the valley of the Seven Towers had ever existed.

Then everyone found their awareness back in their spirit bodies around the Council table.

"People have no memories of the way things used to be," Bay announced. "To all mortal knowledge outside our valley, it has always been thus. Britain and Ireland have always been islands, never joined to Europe. Even the histories kept by the monks of the White Brotherhood and other churchly orders now differ from our memories. Lives were lost in the sundering, but those with memories of the dead now believe that they died in other fashion. Some of those who died are no longer known to have ever lived. I see no practical reason for the sundering. It may have been no more than a chance byproduct of the battle fought among the gods, or an action calculated for no more than immediate effect during that battle.

"The veil over our valley is much more important. I see not who placed it, or why, but I sense that it is a test, and the way we meet this test may well determine what befalls us next."

Bosc spoke next. In Council, his voice was more assured, less servile, than outside. He spoke as a full counselor of long experience.

"The earth's wounds have scarred over, as they always do. She no longer feels the pain of the sundering. She will endure this wound as she has endured many others, some many times greater."

"I am not yet fully certain of my responsibilities here," Braf said when the others looked his way. "I hope that you will help me to learn them. I cannot speak of these changes to earth. They are beyond my ken. As to the veil that hangs over the Seven Towers, if you wish it broken, I will take my lads and try to do that, but I sense that it may not be possible for physical warriors alone, and that is all I know. But I saw much on our sad trek to the land of the gods. There were many soldiers there. If they considered us at all, it was not as possible enemies on a field of battle, but as possible nuisances who might need crushing as we might swat at flies disturbing us at table. While these armies of the gods may indeed be so powerful that they don't consider the possibility that we may have stings, that confidence may also be misplaced. Every warrior knows the advantage of having an enemy so thoroughly underestimate him."

Braf lowered his eyes when he finished speaking, as if in apology for daring to offer his opinions.

"You are correct, Braf," Silvas said. "Having an opponent misjudge you, in either direction, can offset many disadvantages. But, in turn, we dare not make equally erroneous judgments of them. You are also correct in saying that the veil will not yield to merely physical force, yet I would have you dispatch patrols to test every pace of the barrier, all of the way around our valley, to see if there are any gaps, any places where they can break through with merely physical force. Send two patrols, perhaps, one in each direction. It will take two or three days, no doubt, for them, to meet at the far end of the valley. Have them provisioned against that. And send riders with each patrol to carry news back to the Seven Towers of anything unusual they encounter."

"Aye, lord. I'll see to't instantly—when I can," Braf added after a quick look around him.

"Shortly, Braf," Silvas said. "Maria and I will also continue our investigations. We will most likely need to speak with Mikel again. Though he may bear us no goodwill, he remains our most likely source of information among the elder gods. Bay, any facts you might find for us would also be welcome."

"As always, I will do what I may," Bay said.

"And I," Bosc added. "I will see what Mother Earth will say to me."

"Before we terminate this Council," Bay said, "I have one suggestion to offer. While Girabelle served Maria nicely during our excursion to the land of the gods, she does need a more fitting mount, a horse of stature and stamina not unlike my own. Our attempts to pierce the veil around this valley are testimony to that need."

"You know where we may find such a horse?" Silvas asked.

"There is no such animal in English, perhaps not in all of the mortal worlds, but gathered in Council, we may be able to find and procure such a horse."

"A horse as gifted as you?" Silvas asked.

Bay snorted. "There is no such horse as that. But one at least to equal any we saw in the land of the gods."

"I am satisfied with Girabelle," Maria said. "But if you truly feel I need something more, and that we can get it, I am agreeable."

"Have you a particular horse in mind?" Silvas asked.

"No, but I believe I know where we may find what we seek," Bay said. "If you will all channel power through me, I may be able to focus properly."

"How?" Braf asked.

"Merely stare at Bay and concentrate all of your awareness on him," Maria said softly.

Silvas and Maria provided most of the raw power. All of the members of the Council found themselves looking through Bay's eyes. They seemed to speed low over a land that alternated between lush pastures and tall stands of forest. A herd of horses galloped ahead of them, then turned to the right and ran on, fleeing as if they could see the eyes that were chasing them.

There, to the right, in front of the herd, Bay's voice said within the minds of his companions. The white mare.

Everyone focused on that one horse. Even among this herd, the white mare seemed large, magnificent, perhaps even larger than the palomino stallion that brought up the rear. The visual chase grew closer. After several minutes, the white mare veered off from the rest of the herd, as if she had discovered that there was a pursuit under way, and that she was the quarry.

When the white mare was well away from any of the other horses, Bay said, "Now!" very loudly, and for a moment the mare seemed to be galloping in a void, neighing wildly in sudden terror.

Then Bay was galloping at her side while the others continued to watch. Bay got half a length in front of the other horse, but so close that their flanks touched. He turned the mare to the left, tightening the radius of her turn, putting his head out in front of her, slowing her, doing what he could to soothe her.

"We need to end this Council now," Bay said, "Bosc, Camiss will need both of us to calm her."

Silvas spoke the words to close the Council, and it was ended.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

"I want to see that horse right away," Maria said excitedly, as soon as her awareness returned to her physical body. She did not move, though. She and Silvas were still sitting in the center of an active pentagram, and she dared not cross any of its lines until it had been deactivated.

"Yes, I'm curious myself," Silvas admitted. They got to their feet, carefully, and went through the final spells to shut down the mechanisms and defenses of the pentagram.

"We also need to check with the others," Silvas said when they stepped out of the crystal pentagram. Satin and Velvet came to nuzzle against them, and to be petted—their usual "fee" for sitting as sentries. "I do that after any Council, as quickly as may be. There are dangers. We have to be certain that none of our counselors have taken harm."

"Yes, we should see each of them," Maria agreed, "even though none has taken harm this time." While she was speaking, Maria had reached out to touch the minds of each of the others, with Silvas's mind linked to her own. It seemed to take no time at all, yet each of the counselors was able to assure them of his well-being.

"That is new," Silvas admitted when it was over. "But, yes, we'll go to each of them."

"We'll find Bay and Bosc together, calming Camiss," Maria said. "And I think that Braf will come to us before we can go to him."

"Once we've seen to our counselors, I don't think we should long delay our attempt to speak with Mikel," Silvas said as they left the workroom. "We need to ask about the isolation of this valley, and try to learn how much hostility we face from the other gods. Barreth isn't the only one with a hot hatred of us, and we need to know what allies he might count on. Still, I'm not certain that I can force the contact if Mikel resists."

"The habit is old. He shouldn't be come to the point of resisting contact from you yet," Maria said.

After the Council both preferred open speech to the more direct, but silent, communication between minds. They spoke of things that they really did not need to mention again, to have the comfort of spoken words.

As soon as Silvas opened the door leading from the keep out into the courtyard, they could hear loud whinnying coming from the direction of the mews. Satin and Velvet stopped in the doorway, choosing not to go out to confront a nervous horse.

"That must be Camiss," Silvas said with a chuckle. "She's not yet calmed to her new home."

"Riding a wild horse will be a new adventure for me," Maria said. "The pony I sometimes rode on my father's estate was so old and docile that I could outrun her on foot."

"Camiss won't be wild long. Bay and Bosc will tame her almost before we get there."

The white mare was almost exactly the same size as Bay, close to eight feet tall at the withers. She wore no harness yet when Silvas rounded the corner of the keep and saw her in the flesh for the first time. Camiss was cantering skittishly around the bailey, with Bay remaining close, confining her movements, turning her as he willed. Bosc stood near the gate to Bay's stall, watching anxiously, but not burdening Bay with unnecessary advice.

Maria and Silvas went to join Bosc, careful to stay well clear of the two large horses. Silvas beamed a spell of calming at the mare, but there was little visible evidence that it did any good.

"A beautiful horse is Camiss," Bosc said when Silvas and Maria reached him. "Such a pure white I've never seen in a horse."

Silvas chuckled. "It's been an age since I saw Bay sweat so."

"He'll have an appetite an' then some," Bosc allowed. "An' so will she. Camiss has the look of a five-year-old, not that our years have much sway where she came from."

"The two of them will eat as much as a half-dozen normal horses," Maria said. "My father would blanch at the cost."

"I think we can afford it," Silvas said.

Camiss started to slow down. Her exertions were beginning to tell. Bay moved her this way and that, forcing her to do his will.

"We've a good saddle maker here, my lady," Bosc said. " 'Twill take a few days for him to make a proper kit for Camiss. Betwixt times, I've a spare set of tack for Bay that will fit her."

"Thank you, Bosc," Maria said. "I'm sure it will be perfect."

Suddenly, Camiss stopped, planting her feet. She stood firm, not responding at all to Bay's continuing pressures. After a few minutes, Bay backed off and stared at her for a moment, then walked over to the others.

"I've done my part," Bay said. "It's up to folk with two feet to finish the job."

"I'll see to her training, my lady," Bosc said quickly.

Maria beamed a warm smile at him. "Thank you, Bosc, but I think that may not be necessary. Let's see."

Maria walked slowly out into the center of the courtyard, circling around so that she came at Camiss from directly ahead. She spoke soothingly to the horse, but at the same time she reached out with her mind to gentle her. This was not the spell of calming that Silvas might have used, but something more direct, an exercise of pure power deftly couched as emotional suasion. A few feet from Camiss's nose, Maria extended her right hand. The horse did not try to flee, did not make any threatening gestures to keep Maria away. After a moment, Camiss stepped forward and nuzzled Maria's hand with her muzzle. Then Maria stroked Camiss's head from between the eyes down to the nostrils, talking all the while.

"We're going to be great friends, aren't we?" Maria said finally, still in a coaxing tone of voice. She scratched Camiss under the mouth, then moved back along her left side, one hand always on the horse.

"Now, I think it's time to see how we'll work together."

Maria wrapped her left hand in Camiss's long mane and leaped up onto her back, skirts askew. Camiss showed no discomfort or panic. She did not rear or whinny.

"Now, a soft turn around the courtyard," Maria said, and the horse seemed to understand her—either the words, or the mental images that Maria projected with them. They started with a sedate walk. After a moment, Camiss moved first into a trot and then into a gentle canter, moving counterclockwise around the side courtyard.

"She has a way with Camiss," Bosc said softly.

"Yes, but a way of power," Bay said, in case Bosc had missed the deeper ways. Bosc did not often look for such things.

"Still, a gentle way," Silvas said, his eyes glued to Maria and her new mount. "Any other would have been harder on the animal, and less certain. Maria's touch is perfect in this."

For ten minutes, Maria rode Camiss in gentle laps around the portion of the bailey that was visible from where Bay and the others stood. Then Maria took Camiss around into the front section of the bailey, and finally out the gate. They were not gone long. Maria let Camiss stretch out into a gallop for a couple of minutes, down the road almost to the village, and then back, then slowed her to a walk and brought her back within the Seven Towers and to the group standing in front of the mews.

After she dismounted, Maria hugged Camiss's neck, though it took a mighty stretch on her part, and cooperation on the part of the horse.

"She is perfect, Bay," Maria said, her face a trifle flushed from the ride and from excitement. "Absolutely perfect."

Bay acknowledged the implied compliment only with a nod.

"I'll see to Camiss now, mistress," Bosc said. He spoke to the horse in a mixed collection of words and guttural sounds.

"And we have work to do yet," Silvas said, reinforcing the words with a thought directed privately at Maria. "Bay, Bosc, you might well be on your guard for a time. We're going to attempt to contact Mikel. There may be some sort of immediate response. Braf, you'll want to put your men on alert as well."

"Aye, lord." Braf had joined the group at the mews while Maria was off with Camiss. "I've already set the patrols to check on this veil that seals us off from the world. They'll be leaving within minutes."

"Perhaps you'd better hold them until after Maria and I make contact with Mikel," Silvas said. "I'll let you know when."

"Aye, lord. Then I'd best hurry myself before they get gone."

—|—

"Do we use the pentagram?" Maria asked as she and Silvas entered the keep. Satin and Velvet were sitting in the foyer. They fell into step behind Maria and Silvas.

"No, that would give the wrong impression. Mikel might think that we feel weak or uncertain. I think that either the library or the small sitting room would be appropriate."

"The sitting room, then. The books and scrolls in the library might make it seem that we were lost in a desperate hunt for information."

Silvas nodded. "You have it exactly. Mikel is certainly not one to be overwhelmed by the wealth the library represents, and he will judge the setting with more care than we might."

They went through the great hall to the tapestry that concealed the back stairs up to their living quarters. Early preparations for the evening meal had already begun in the great hall.

"We'll dine down here tonight?" Maria suggested before they reached the stairs. "After we've completed our work?"

"Yes, that's a good idea," Silvas said. "After all of the changes, our people have seen too little of us."

Except in mourning, Maria amended, and Silvas nodded. He caught the eye of one of the servants working among the tables, then pointed to himself and Maria, then at the head table. The servant bobbed her head and hurried off toward the kitchens.

"I'll tell Koshka as well," Maria said.

When they reached the small sitting room, Maria looked around quickly, to see if there was anything that needed doing before they made their attempt to contact Mikel. The setting needed to be just so. And it was, at least to her thinking. Koshka brought a tray with wine and cheese. Maria told him that she and Silvas would be dining in the great hall.

"We may be a trifle delayed. I don't know for certain," Silvas added. "We'll try not to be too late."

"Aye, lord. I'll see to the arrangements." Koshka scurried from the room.

"We'll sit on the sofa," Silvas said. "With you at my right hand. Wine poured."

"And sampled," Maria added, earning a quick laugh.

The cats settled themselves at either end of the sofa, going through their own rituals, stretching and curling until they had found exactly the positions they wanted, then grooming themselves while they waited for whatever was to happen.

Maria sat and sampled the wine in front of her. Silvas had no more than sat at her side when their plans were interrupted.

A quick flash of emerald light suffused the room and disappeared, lasting only long enough to alert Silvas and Maria—and to annoy the cats, who got to their feet, ready to spring toward any enemy who dared to attack.

As suddenly, Gioia was standing in the room, facing the sofa. She wore a long shirt over tight trousers and soft-skinned shoes, all in forest tones of green and brown. She also wore a cap with a single pheasant's feather sticking up from it. She carried a longbow, strung, over her right shoulder, and a quiver of arrows over her left shoulder.

Maria leaned back quickly, unable to completely hide the way that Gioia's materialization had surprised her. Velvet and Satin growled so softly that it was scarcely audible to Silvas even though he was listening for the reaction of the cats. The fur also rose on their backs. Silvas was somewhat more collected. He had been reaching for his goblet when the light flashed. He paused for only an instant, to calm the cats, then took his drink of wine.

"Welcome to our home," he said calmly. "Will you have a bit of refreshment with us?"

Gioia stared at Silvas, not moving a muscle, for well over a minute without speaking. She glanced briefly at Maria then, before returning her attention to the wizard.

"You have nothing here that I want," she said.

"A seat?" Silvas gestured at a chair.

"I prefer to remain standing."

Silvas shrugged and took another drink. Maria also sipped at her wine, then took a small chunk of cheese and chewed on that while she studied Gioia. The hunter goddess looked as if she were in the bloom of young womanhood, perhaps only a few years older than Maria. Her garb showed off her firm figure as clearly as if she had been naked. Her skin was tanned but did not appear particularly dry or weathered. Her dark hair was confined by the peaked cap and by a gold band that collected the rest in back. Maria noted that Gioia's ears seemed unusually small, and as delicately formed as if they were made of porcelain.

"To what do we owe the pleasure of this visit?" Silvas asked, keeping his voice studiously polite, almost inviting.

"Curiosity," Gioia said. "I wanted a better look at you. I find myself unable to answer a simple question."

"Which question is that?" Silvas asked.

"What sort of mortal could possibly affect my sister so that she would give him such a foolish gift? How could she so lose awareness of her birthright to waste so much time on such as you?"

"That's two questions," Silvas said. "But the questions are related. I'm not certain that I have the answers you seek, though. Your questions are bound up with one I posed to myself while we were in your brother's house. 'How could Carillia have possibly managed to rise above the pettiness and bickering of her brothers and sisters to turn out so good and kind?' "

Gioia's cheeks rippled as she struggled to hold back an angry riposte.

"There is another thing that you seem to be forgetting," Silvas said. "Carillia didn't will her divinity merely to me, but to Maria as well, and she could hardly have been affected by Maria in any way that she might have been affected by me. They had barely met."

Gioia gave Maria a direct stare. Maria met it with serenity. Though she felt nervous enough inside, she would not let it show.

"The daughter of Sir Eustace Devry?" Gioia said, looking at Maria but clearly speaking to Silvas. "Surely you are not foolish enough to think that my sister planned this! This country girl?"

"I must differ with you, on many counts," Silvas said, his voice drawing Gioia's eyes back to his own. "She most clearly planned it. And my opinion on this has a much firmer basis of knowledge than your own. You did say that you came here because you couldn't understand why Carillia chose to spend so much of her life with me, or why she gave us the gift she did as she died."

"You prize that gift too highly, magician," Gioia said. "Other mortals have tasted of divinity. The squalid quarters of the Shining City are filled with demigods and their get. Some were awarded their status for favors rendered." Gioia looked back and forth between Silvas and Maria. "Most often sexual. Others are the children of gods and demigods, or of gods and mortal women." She stared again at Silvas, leaning forward for emphasis. "Gods and mortal women," she repeated. "After all, no mortal man could possibly be strong enough in his seed to impregnate a goddess. Did Carillia ever bear you a child?" The sweetness of her tones in that last question only added to its bitter cast.

"Children are a rare gift to any wizard, no matter who his consort, or how many of them he has. If there is any penalty involved, it is that of his calling, not his mate."

"It matters not to me how you deceive yourself," Gioia said. "Nor will it long matter to you. While other demigods are well tolerated among us—our children and our favorites—you two are bastards of a particularly low sort. Revolting mutant beasts. It will not be long before you join your Carillia and the others who fell in the recent battle. It depends on how badly my brethren want this new sport."

With another flash of emerald light, Gioia was gone.

CHAPTER TWELVE

"Another enemy declares herself," Maria said when she reached for her wine goblet again, her hand trembled slightly, a show of emotion she had not permitted herself while Gioia was in the room.

"Better a declared enemy than one who strikes without warning." Silvas replied. Behind the words, they shared their true appreciation of the event.

Satin and Velvet went to the spot where Gioia had stood and sniffed at the floor. The cats were tense, ready for a fight.

"Barreth and Gioia," Maria said. "How many more of the old gods, and the demigods who serve them?"

"If we have time, we may yet win over some of the old gods," Silvas said. "At least to a grudging tolerance for us. Until that day, we have to worry about staying alive."

"We're but two, with such few servants as we have in the Seven Towers." And we don't yet know the full scope or limits of our abilities.

I have my centuries of wizardry, and those talents are not inconsiderable, as Mikel himself realized long ago, Silvas reminded her. And there is the infusion of knowledge and power that Mikel gave me before the battle for Mecq reached its conclusion.

It seems that neither Mikel nor Gioia has any real appreciation of how closely we are linked, Maria added, still looking for anything that would help buoy her spirits.

"We're something they've never encountered before," Silvas said, returning to spoken words. "They must proceed with some measure of caution, against whatever surprises we hold for them."

"You are a deicide already," Maria said. "Their hatred for us must be tempered by that knowledge. And fueled by it."

"Contacting Mikel remains the logical next step in learning what may come, but I think we must postpone that now. We need to take more care for the defense of the Seven Towers and the village."

"Such as?" Maria asked.

"Many things. Firstly, we need to speak with Braf. This time, we'll go to him."

"Downstairs, in the great hall," Maria said, discerning Braf's location without effort. That was one facet of their new powers that Maria had taken to more readily than Silvas had. "It's nearly time for supper. Everyone will be gathering, especially now that there's been time for them to learn that we are going to take our meal there."

"Yes, yes, of course," Silvas said. "I had almost forgotten." Even the mind of a god could lose track of details.

The great hall of the Glade was filled when Silvas and Maria entered. The level of conversation was intense, but people spoke with lowered voices, and stopped when they saw Maria and Silvas.

Braf, a word with you, Silvas projected as he escorted Maria to the head table. Braf hurried over.

"For the time being, we'll dispense with attempts to break through the veil, Braf," Silvas said. "You may dismiss your men."

"As you wish, lord," Braf replied.

"Rather than try to break this magic, we'll strengthen it, make it our own," Silvas explained. "Until we know clearly how the winds blow from the land of the gods, we'll use that barrier as an added line of defense."

Braf nodded slowly. "The folk in the village..." he started, and stopped when he saw that Silvas knew where he was going.

"When they have need of commerce, I'll open a way for them. We'll send guards with them to the next village, or wherever they need to go. Send word to the reeve and tell him to arrange for everyone with needs beyond the valley to be ready at the same time."

"Aye, lord. When will it be convenient?"

"For now, let us say Tuesday next, though that may change. If this situation continues for any great time, we'll make more permanent arrangements."

"Aye, lord. I'll trot down to the village myself after the meal."

"That'll be fine, Braf. Thank you." Silvas turned to Maria. And we'll do our work after the meal as well.

—|—

The work that Silvas had in mind started in the pentagram. He and Maria worked through a lengthy series of spells—some so old that Silvas had learned them at the knee of Auroreus, others made new on the spot, combining Silvas's centuries of experience as a wizard with the godly powers that he and Maria had so recently gained. When the preparatory work was complete, they used a spell of passage to leave the pentagram safely.

"Now we ride," Silvas told Maria before they left the workroom. Satin and Velvet were with them.

When they reached the mews, Bay and Camiss were saddled and waiting. Camiss seemed fully recovered from her earlier exertions and stress. She had been fed and groomed, and showed no objection when Maria mounted her.

"We go first to the intersection in the village," Silvas told Bay, and during that ride, Silvas told the horse of Gioia's visit and what they planned to do now.

Full night had fallen, but it was a night such as they had never seen before. The moon and stars had a different cast through the peach-colored veil that hung over the valley. There was an unusual softness to the deep shadows. But there was sufficient light for horses and cats—and gods.

At the crossroads, they dismounted. Maria tied Camiss's reins to a post off to the side. Bay needed no restraint. Satin and Velvet moved out of the way and sat where they could watch the roads without being seen themselves.

After dark, there were no villagers out. Even without the strange veil over the sky, most villagers would have been inside long since. There were few lights visible in the cottages of the village. Most of the people would already be asleep. Even in the valley of the Seven Towers, most folk worked the land, and moved to the natural rhythms of day and night. There was little chance that Silvas and Maria would be disturbed at their work, or even spotted.

Silvas scribed a pentagram in the center of the crossroads, using the silver ferrule of his wizard's staff. There was no hesitation to his work, no lack of precision to the lines he drew. When the diagram was complete, Silvas and Maria moved to the center and stood back-to-back as they spoke the spells to empower this pentagram and link it to the one within the Seven Towers.

"We're ready to start the real work now," Silvas whispered.

Silvas stood facing north, Maria south. They paused before they started the next series of incantations. Their minds ranged out across the valley and up the slopes of the surrounding hills, touching the veil that closed the valley off from the rest of the world.

As they chanted, the veil became more visible in the darkness, glowing actively, orange and peach and pink, hiding the moon and stars beyond. Rays of pale light appeared to emanate from Silvas and Maria, connecting them to the veil—almost as if their bodies were being mapped to the lower screen. A second spell cast growing, luminous shadows of their bodies: shadows that expanded until they lost definition.

Silvas's concentration was entirely wrapped up in the business of weaving these new spells. Maria managed to find room for little-girl wonder at what they were doing. This was so much more than the easy communion between her mind and Silvas's, or any of the other evidences of Carillia's gift that she had seen since coming to the Seven Towers. Maria's awareness of the new state she had attained grew deeper tendrils, tightening their grip on her innermost being. This is what it is like to be one of the gods.

Silvas and Maria did not try to break the veil that hovered like a bubble over the valley, but they did touch it, repeatedly, infusing themselves into its fabric. They felt the power that had barricaded the valley, though they could not identify its source or unravel its intricacies. They did match the original creative power with their own, though, adding new layers inside and out, sealing off the original work and compressing it between their own, welding all together and making it theirs—as fully as they could. As they labored toward the nadir of the day, the color of the veil changed. It became a full rainbow of soft tints, ranging from violet and blue in the east through red in the west.

The rainbow was a promise to Noah that the Deluge would not be repeated, was a thought Silvas and Maria shared when the colors were at their most intense. For a few moments, they lingered, viewing their handiwork with satisfaction. Then they retreated to their bodies. As they withdrew from the veil that was now also a shield, the colors of the rainbow faded until the moon and stars could once more be seen through it—those celestial objects now tinted by whichever portion of the rainbow they shone through.

Maria felt suddenly very tiny when her awareness was once more confined by her physical body. Even the bubble over the valley seemed immense, and she found herself thinking of the unimaginable vastness of the universe beyond it. For a moment, she was caught up in those feelings, until Silvas's thought-words broke in.

We've done but half our work, love.

I know, she replied. It was the first time Silvas had used the word "love" to her. "Think," she said softly. "Each night, the moon will show each color of the rainbow as it flies across the sky."

"There will be a new beauty in the heavens," Silvas allowed.

They spoke the spells to deactivate the pentagram in which they stood. Together, they scuffed away the marks in the dirt road with their feet. It wouldn't do to leave the pentagram here for the villagers to wonder about in the morning, Silvas said.

"You go east, and I'll go west," he said then, speaking softly but aloud. "Now you'll get a chance to see what Camiss can really do."

They mounted and rode in opposite directions, following the road across the narrow diameter of the valley. The cats separated. Satin followed Maria, and Velvet went with Silvas. Maria urged Camiss to an easy canter, her mind touching the horse's mind, assuring Camiss that there were no dangerous obstacles in their path. It's a gentle road, with no ruts or holes to catch a hoof. The white mare stretched out and ran, satisfied with her task, unaware of the great magics that were being perpetrated. Satin kept pace easily, and when Maria glanced to the side, the great cat looked up with what seemed to be extreme pleasure.

They slowed down as the road steepened, and Maria reined Camiss back to a walk the last hundred yards. In the dark shade of the trees, the bubble was almost invisible, even to Maria, unless she made a special effort to see it.

Maria dismounted and walked to within inches of the barrier, then reached out and touched it with both hands, fingers spread wide. There was a slight warmth to the veil, and it felt somewhat stiffer than before. It also seemed to throb now, just barely, as if it had a life of its own.

After a moment, Maria turned her back to the veil, and stepped back until she felt it press against her. She spread her arms out to either side, against the veil. There was little sense of curvature to the barrier up close. For all the feel against her back, the veil might have been a perfectly flat wall.

Her mind leaped across the valley to touch Silvas's mind. He was arrayed against the far side of the barrier, just as she was. In concert, they started a new series of incantations. The rainbow bubble brightened again, and faded when they completed the spell. The vibrations that Maria could feel were somewhat stronger, and more rapid.

Maria mounted Camiss again, and they raced back to the crossroad, reaching it just as Silvas and Bay did. Neither dismounted.

"I'll take the north, and you take the south," Silvas said. "Afterward, we'll meet at the gate to the Glade. Bay can cover the greater distance faster than Camiss."

The cats changed places. Velvet went with Maria, and Satin went with Silvas.

With a longer run in front of him, Bay stretched out to almost the fastest pace he could manage, and that made Satin work to keep up. Silvas sat his saddle and let Bay worry about the business of getting to the north end of the valley. They had often ridden like this before, though rarely so late at night. Bay galloped almost to the barrier, stopping only a single length from it.

"I think I'll have to take an occasional night run even after this," Bay said while Silvas dismounted. "I find a perverse pleasure in it."

"Perverse?" Silvas asked.

"To run like a ghost in the night, the sound of my hooves perhaps troubling the dreams of sleeping peasants."

"That would have worked more easily in a place like Mecq than here."

"Even here," Bay insisted.

Silvas went to the barrier and pressed his back against it, as before. He linked to Maria, and they repeated the spells they had used when they had stood at north and south. The bubble brightened and dimmed. Silvas mounted Bay again, and they raced back to the Glade.

Maria, Camiss, and Velvet had scarcely crossed the drawbridge when Silvas, Bay, and Satin reached it. Inside the gate, Maria dismounted. Bosc came trotting across the courtyard, reaching Maria just as the others did.

"We'll walk to the mews with you, Bosc," Maria said. "This night, I want to see Camiss to her stall."

"Aye, my lady," Bosc said, bobbing his head. "She's new to the Seven Towers."

"Even newer than I am," Maria said. Bosc did not respond to that.

"Our work isn't over yet," Silvas reminded Maria. "Even though it must be close to midnight."

"Close to or past," Bay commented. "I think a bit past."

"We have to close down the pentagram, and we have to contact Mikel," Silvas said.

"Tonight?" Maria asked. "Will we rouse him from sleep?"

"If needs be," Silvas said. "Though I fancy that Mikel will be sleeping little at present."

"I'll warn Braf," Bosc offered.

"Yes, do that," Silvas said. "It will be a short time yet before we make the attempt. He'll have time to alert his men, if they aren't already at full alert."

"He's doubled the guard, an' then some," Bosc said.

Maria unsaddled Camiss herself, and took the harness from her head, talking the whole time. She would have given the horse a rubdown also, but there was more pressing work, and Bosc had grooms ready to care for Camiss. Bosc would see to Bay himself, as he always did.

Silvas and Maria took the back way into the keep, going from the mews into the curtain wall, up through a corner tower and across to the keep. Satin and Velvet moved in front, prowling, watching for the dangers that were within their purview. The hours of the night were their primary watch. But they reached the private apartments on the second level of the keep without encountering anything more than sentries on patrol, gurnetz and human, all armed and tense. The battle for Mecq had touched the Seven Towers. The fighting had been horrifying. No one was anxious for a repeat.

There was no time for relaxation. Silvas and Maria went up to the workshop to shut down the remaining spells and deactivate the pentagram.

"I don't think I've ever been so tired in all my life," Maria said when she and Silvas left the now idle pentagram. "It seems as if this day has gone on for a week, and it isn't finished yet."

"I can recall a few times when I've felt this spent," Silvas said, "but not so many that the memories trip over each other. When Auroreus initiated me into the Greater Mysteries of the Trimagister, the ordeal lasted a full seven days and nights without rest."

They went downstairs, through the library and on to the small sitting room next to their sleeping chamber. Koshka was there with wine and the inevitable selection of fruits and cheeses. There were treats for the cats as well, over in a corner. Satin and Velvet went to it with good appetite.

"Will you be wanting baths now?" Koshka asked.

"Not yet, I'm afraid," Silvas said. "There's still work to do, and a hot bath might put us both to sleep before we're finished."

"A long night yet?"

"Yes, Koshka, perhaps both long and dangerous." Silvas took a drink of wine. It was the special alpine vintage that he and Carillia had both been so fond of. Carillia. Chance remembrance still brought pain.

Maria saw the flash of agony and touched Silvas's arm. When their eyes met, so did their minds.

I know how difficult it is for you, Maria told him. I share your pain.

Let us hope there's time to share pleasures as well. You've already experienced far more than you bargained for when first we met.

Maria was unable to stop herself. She laughed, deeply and long, bringing a flush to her face. "Far more, indeed."

"Don't keep anyone up to heat water for us, Koshka," Silvas said. "We'll make do. Perhaps we can save everyone a little work now."

Koshka nodded an acknowledgment and left.

There was work to do, but Maria and Silvas sat on the divan and spent some minutes fortifying themselves with food and wine. Both remembered what had happened earlier when they had thought to contact Mikel. Gioia had come to call on them instead. What will happen this time? was a question that did not really need the intimate merging of their minds to come to both of them.

"Are you ready?" Silvas asked finally, and Maria nodded. She set down her goblet and leaned back on the sofa, reaching out to hold Silvas's hand. The cats took up their normal positions at either end of the divan.

Making contact was easier than either expected. Together they pictured Mikel in their minds. Silvas framed a shared thought: Mikel, we need to talk. Immediately, the room in front of them changed. It was as if half of the sitting room had been sliced away, and half of a new room spliced to it. The dividing line was sharp, unmistakable. Silvas and Maria needed no explanation to know that the view in front of them was part of what passed for a "small" room in Mikel's palace. There was every evidence of reality, as if the two rooms had been physically joined. There were perfect seams.

Mikel was there, no more than six feet from them, sitting in an ebony chair inlaid with intricate designs in gold and silver. The golden chalice in his hand would easily hold a quart, and the exterior was studded with every variety of precious stone. Mikel lifted the goblet and took a long drink. His eyes were bloodshot, and he gave every indication of being thoroughly inebriated.

"We were concerned that we might disturb your sleep," Silvas said when it became clear that Mikel would not open the discussion.

"You have disturbed my drinking, and I take that far more seriously," Mikel replied, finally deigning to look more or less at his callers.

"There seems to be some urgency to this, or we would have waited for morning."

"Urgency to what?"

"When we returned from the Shining City, we found a shimmering dome covering the valley of the Seven Towers, a barrier closing it off from the surrounding countryside. The people in the village can't pass out through the veil. Outsiders not only can't pass in through it, the veil makes it appear as if the valley doesn't even exist."

"So there's a veil. What of it?"

"Whoever put it in place did not sign it, but it obviously took godly power to create that veil and make it difficult for us to manipulate it."

A slight pause was the only indication that Mikel heard anything of note in that statement. "A minor matter. I have no knowledge of who did it. It does not surprise me, though. Many of us here would as soon close you away where you could not disturb our peace any farther. The surprise is that there are so few who seem inclined toward quick action."

"I know of Barreth and Gioia. Both have made their feelings clear. Are there more as vindictive as them?"

Mikel shrugged. "At least one, perhaps three. Do not ask me to name names. I will not do that. Though you were a good servant when you were my servant, I will not betray my siblings to a deicide."

"I was merely the weapon. You and your allies were the deicides. Even by your standards I have call on your loyalty."

"You brought death to us. Those deaths will be avenged, whether I will it or not. Some of my siblings keep close accounts. You are in over your heads, but not—I suspect—for long. For me, for most of us, it would be enough to have that barrier close you away."

"It does not close us away. It is merely an inconvenience, mostly for the mortals who live in this valley. As a matter of fact, I've taken steps to strengthen the barrier."

Mikel stared at Silvas, openly appraising now.

"You think it could hold out any of us who chose to pass through it?"

"I did not say so," Silvas said.

"You think you have long memories, but you have known so little," Mikel said. "We go back to a time when these mortals, such as you used to be, had neither language nor society, when they huddled in caves like the meanest of rodents, prey rather than predator. We took those beasts and educated them, molded them over to be a reflection of us."

"Rather to reflect glory on you," Silvas suggested.

"Every people who ever came to glory in your world did so because of our favor."

"Because they gave you flattery."

"Because they realized that we made their greatness possible, not the recluses of the land above ours," Mikel said. "They care not at all for anyone but themselves."

"You and your brothers and sisters do?" Silvas did not try to hide his skepticism.

"You have so little idea of our history," Mikel said.

"More than you know," Silvas said, letting annoyance take hold of him and run free. "More than you told me yourself when you poured so much of your mind into mine. What of your parents? Where have they gone to since they disowned the lot of you?"

Mikel growled noisily and took a long drink of wine. Then he took a carafe from a table next to him, refilled the chalice, and drank again.

"Are you at all familiar with the Holy Bible that your Christians revere?" Silvas asked while Mikel was still drinking. "In the Old Testament, there is a list of ten commandments that are meant to be the guiding laws of Christian living. At least one of those commandments, so I am told, was directed more at you and your brothers and sisters than at the mortals who hold it sacred. 'Honor thy father and mother.' "

For a moment, Silvas thought that Mikel might hurl his chalice at him. Unbidden, a spell came to mind that would deflect the object harmlessly to the floor. But Mikel held his temper close enough that he did not waste his wine, or throw away its container.

"They never honored anything or anyone," he said instead, bitterness and hate in his voice. "They cared for nothing but each other. I have no idea where they might be, if they still live. Somewhere in the land above us, no doubt. I really don't care. Had they appeared while we were preparing for the recent battle, I have no doubt that we would have put aside our differences to attack them in conceit."

"Your parents bear you no hate. They're merely disappointed, and they regret that they paid so little attention to you," Silvas said. "When they tried to make amends, it was already too late."

"What do you know of our parents, bastard?" Mikel demanded.

"I've spoken with your father, not all that long ago," Silvas said. "While we were arming for Mecq."

"Unlikely," Mikel said, mountainous anger showing on his face. "He has taken no interest in us since before Babylon first ruled the world."

"However unlikely, it's true," Silvas said. "He took me to a place where my power did not work. He told me of your family, much more than you would find comfortable. And he warned me what would come from the battle we so recently fought as allies."

Silvas waited for Mikel's rage to erupt. But after long minutes of struggle, Mikel simply disappeared, with the room in which he sat. Silvas and Maria were alone with their cats.

Outside, a monumental storm erupted to batter the valley of the Seven Towers.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

It was impossible for Silvas and Maria to miss the coincidence of a tremendous storm breaking at the very instant that their conversation with Mikel ended. Several peals of thunder sounded almost simultaneously, and heavy rain slammed at the one window in the small sitting room. Lightning flashed past the window, colored spectacularly by the rainbow hues of the veil over the valley.

"Mikel's final word?" Maria suggested, going to the window.

Silvas followed her. "That seems unlikely. He was too morose, too intoxicated, to come up with a spectacle like this so quickly. Besides, I've never known him to waste energy on empty shows."

"Then one of the others listening in on our talk? The sky was clear when we strengthened the barrier. There wasn't a cloud to be seen."

Silvas shook his head uncertainly. "I don't think that the storm has anything to do with our talk. If it's a response to anything, it must be to the work we did before, strengthening the veil."

"Nothing more than mere coincidence?" Maria asked, opening her eyes wide and putting mock surprise into her voice.

Silvas laughed. "It might well be. We're too eager to see enemy action in everything. But we can still watch this storm with particular interest."

"Is there somewhere we can get a better view of the storm without being soaked?"

"The closest vantage would be the turret above the workroom."

Silvas led the way up through the library and workroom. On the side of the workroom, a narrow doorway opened onto a steep and tightly curled stairway leading to a turret that protruded from the side of the keep. Its main function during the centuries that Silvas had ridden circuit for Mikel had been to give him a view of whatever place he had ridden to and called in the pillar of smoke that allowed him access to home. That one turret showed the remote locale rather than the immediate environs of the Seven Towers.

The walls were thick enough that Silvas and Maria could stand close to the slit openings in the turret and look out at the storm without catching more than a little spray from the rain outside. A chill breeze came through, though.

"I've never seen a storm so fierce," Maria said after a few minutes of observation.

"I recall a couple of storms that matched this one, though I don't think that either was the least bit stronger," Silvas said, absently thinking of those other storms. One of them had caught him, and Bay, on the road, going from one village to another in the Scottish Highlands, far beyond the usual limits of their peregrinations. After enduring a few minutes of the cloudburst, Silvas had given up on riding any farther that day. He had spoken the words of magic that summoned the pillar of smoke to let them return to the Seven Towers. The other storm so fierce had happened while they were in a village near Rouen, in the king's Norman possessions. At least he had been under cover when that storm broke. Silvas related those experiences to Maria, sharing the most vivid images directly.

While they talked in the turret, Silvas and Maria roamed the skies over the valley in the spirit, probing the storm, searching for any hint of design to it. The storm was a broad one, covering the valleys both east and west of the now hidden valley of the Seven Towers. The clouds were moving rapidly from southwest to northeast, failing at the front, new clouds building at the rear, seething as if they were at a rapid boil. The result was that the storm seemed to hang overhead as new clouds replaced older ones that had drained themselves of rain. An extraordinarily large number of lightning bolts flashed, often as many as a dozen simultaneously.

"It looks as if this storm will not end soon," Maria said after they had spent a quarter hour watching it.

There's no sign I can find of conscious agency to it, Silvas told her. Nor does it seem to be causing any special damage.

A few trees struck, branches down, Maria commented, turning her attention toward the valley below the eyes of her spirit. If not a directed assault on us, an omen perhaps?

There is almost always conscious design driving true omens, Silvas replied. Most events that people call omens after the fact are mere coincidence.

"Superstition?" Maria asked softly.

"Perhaps. I see no point to spending the entire night here. Though little rain comes in, we're still getting damp, and there's a chill to the wind. We might as well be comfortable, even if we don't sleep."

"Don't sleep? You think this storm still bears our attention?"

"It makes me uneasy. This may be nothing more than what it appears, but it troubles me. I doubt that I could sleep while it continues."

They turned away from the storm and descended to the workroom. Silvas paused for a moment there, his eyes tracing the lines of the crystal pentagram, searching for any hint of damage to the pattern, and finding none. But yet he hesitated to leave the room. Maria stood near the door, with Satin and Velvet flanking her, waiting.

I'm tempted to use the pentagram to investigate this storm further, Silvas told Maria. I tell myself that it would be a waste of time and energy, but I am still sorely tempted.

"Time and energy we have at present, it seems," Maria said.

Silvas looked at her, then looked at the pentagram again, wavering. Finally, he shook his head and went to her.

"No, my mind is chasing shadows. If I give in to this impulse, I may find myself giving in to similar impulses all of the time. I can find no ready cause for the effort."

Silvas lingered again as they were going through the library on the floor below the workroom. He quickly scanned the rows of books and racks of scrolls, questing through his memory for some title he could retrieve to find a cure for his uneasiness.

"Obviously, you feel there is something we should be doing," Maria said.

"But I don't know what. That bothers me infinitely more than the storm itself."

"You think the answer is here?"

Silvas shrugged. "It might be. There is a wealth of knowledge in this room, beyond the ken of all but a few in this world."

"And the new store of knowledge within us?"

Silvas laughed. "You're right. But that knowledge is new. I have ages of comfort with the knowledge in these volumes." He shook his head. "This may be the largest library in existence since the one at Alexandria was destroyed. If any collection is larger, it can only be in the Vatican. In any case, there is one scroll I think you might scan. Auroreus wrote this tract as a primer for me when he first took me as his apprentice."

Silvas crossed to a rack of scrolls and reached for one. As always, he was able to go immediately to the document he wanted. He pulled it out and carried it across to Maria.

"Dei et Deae," he announced, handing her the scroll. "You won't have nearly the difficulty reading it that I did the first time."

Maria unknotted the cord that held the scroll closed and opened the manuscript to the first page. Her first glance encompassed the entire page.

"This makes even my father's scribbling look beautiful," she said. "What a tangle of words and languages."

Then, just briefly, she felt tremendous surprise. "Languages," she repeated. "I learned Latin from Brother Paul, enough to read the Bible. I learned to read a little of English and French from my father's second wife. But this..."

"There are seven languages in that scroll, thrown together as if mixed in a bowl and poured at random onto the sheet," Silvas said, letting amusement soften his mood.

"I can read them more easily than I could read a single language before," Maria said. "If only I had this gift when I was taking my lessons."

"Take the scroll with you. There's no need to read it now."

Silvas's uneasiness had passed. The interlude had taken the look of care from his face. They went on down to the small sitting room. There was still wine left in the carafe, and a considerable amount of fruit and cheese. Maria curled up on the divan with her legs tucked under her and started to read Dei et Deae. Silvas lit several extra candles, then went and stood by the window. The wall was eight feet thick, and the window was glassed. Neither rain nor wind troubled his continued observation of the storm.

"I find an unexpected distraction in reading this," Maria said after perhaps ten minutes. Silvas turned away from the window to look at her. "I read, but before I can get to the next words, the memories we share give them to me. I find myself racing ahead of the words."

Silvas took a couple of steps in her direction. "The hours I spent slaving over each page of that. I had to..."

He stopped because a large sphere of light appeared in the room, hanging in the air halfway between Maria and him. The globe was an arm's length in diameter and seemed to be perfectly shaped. At first, there was nothing but the light, but gradually a scene appeared within the globe. Both Maria and Silvas were looking at the image as it formed, and even though they were on opposite sides of the sphere, they saw precisely the same view, from the same angle.

The image of Brother Paul, formerly the vicar of Mecq, was in the globe. He was clad in the white habit of the White Brotherhood, and he was kneeling in prayer, eyes closed, hands clasped over crucifix and rosary. It was impossible to see anything of the friar's surroundings. Only he appeared in the visionary bubble.

"Is this a common sort of occurrence for you?" Maria asked.

"This is unique," Silvas said. "You mentioned the good vicar before. Perhaps that's all there is to this vision. But... first the thunderstorm and now this peculiar image of Brother Paul. What is the point?"

"At least this does not seem to be the work of an enemy," Maria said. "Why bring an ally to mind?"

Behind the words, they shared a common realization. If Brother Paul appears to us, we need only contact him to see if there is some reason. But they did not hurry to follow through on that. They stared at the image, which was so finely resolved that they could see his lips move as he prayed in silence, and they could put the words to those movements. The prayers that Brother Paul repeated were ritual, mostly fervent repetitions of the Ave Maria and Pater Noster.

"What if this globe vanishes before we act?" Maria asked after a time.

Silvas nodded. "Let me make the contact alone. Brother Paul is at least accustomed to my magics."

"It shouldn't be difficult."

"It shouldn't be. I'll try the most direct method first. If that doesn't work, we have a considerable store of alternatives." Silvas's grin was a little tight.

He faced the figure in the globe directly. In a moderately loud voice, he said, "Brother Paul."

There was a short delay before Silvas saw any reaction to his words. He had almost decided that he would have to try something more sophisticated when Brother Paul opened his eyes and looked up. The friar's movements were almost unnaturally slow, as if time were running only half as fast for him as it was for Silvas and Maria. Eyelids came up very slowly. His head raised as if on difficult ratchets. Finally, the eyeballs rotated upward. Silvas could tell the instant that Brother Paul saw him. The monk's eyes suddenly widened.

"Lord Silvas." Paul's words were clear but seemed to come from a distance. His head turned a little to the side. "Maria."

Silvas and Maria looked at each other. Silvas raised an eyebrow. They were directly opposite each other, with the sphere of light between them.

"How far apart do we seem to be to you?" Silvas asked the monk.

"No more than a span." Paul raised his hands to demonstrate.

"We're in the Glade, Vicar," Silvas said. "A sphere of light suddenly appeared in the room, and we could see you at your prayers within the sphere."

"I'm in the chapter house of the cathedral at St. Ives," Paul said. "I see your face, and Maria's face, in the darkness over the shrine to Mary, the Holy Mother of Jesus." The monk blinked rapidly, several times. "There is a thing I had no chance to tell you before. That last morning at Mecq, before the bishop celebrated Mass, several of my parishioners came to me with similar tales. They said they had been visited by Mother Mary during the night. They each described her to me. The description was that of your lady, Carillia, may she rest in peace."

"I did not know that before, but I have since learned that she often appeared in that guise. It was her tie to the White Brotherhood."

"Bishop Egbert explained. We were halfway to St. Ives before he thought I was ready to learn about the true relation of Holy Mother Church to the gods. But that is of another puzzle. I came here tonight to pray because I felt troubled in my spirit. My heart told me that the danger was not truly over, that it might only be beginning, and that you had need of my help, limited though that help might be."

"Have you even had time to begin your studies of the Greater Mysteries?" Silvas asked.

"Bishop Egbert was in great haste to start. He lectured me through the entire ride from Mecq to St. Ives, and when the good bishop's voice flagged, one of the chapter monks took over. I've heard a lot that I never suspected before. Had it not been for my association with you, and that Council in which you bade me sit, I fear that my soul would have refused much of what I have heard. So much that contradicts what I have always believed!"

"Not contradiction so much as a separate level of reality," Silvas said.

"So Bishop Egbert assured me," Paul said. "It remains troubling. And I spoke to him about this feeling I have that the danger is not over."

"What did he say to that?" Silvas asked.

"That there is always danger for the faithful. That those with power must always be especially vigilant. He said that I already possess power that I am not fully aware of."

"That is true enough," Silvas said. "Or you would not have been able to contact Maria and me the way that you have."

"Did I contact you?"

"There seems no other explanation." Silvas reached a quick decision then, and glanced at Maria to see her nod of agreement. "There must be reason behind this. Come to me as quickly as you may. If Bishop Egbert questions it, ask him to bend his mind toward mine and I will answer."

"How can I come to you?" Paul asked. "I know not how to find your castle."

Silvas hesitated for an instant. The means Brother Paul needed came to mind immediately, but the idea seemed improbable, even now. "Take my hand."

Silvas reached out toward the monk, and his hand sank into the globe of light. For a moment, Paul merely stared at the disembodied hand that appeared before him. Then, hesitantly, he reached out and clasped it. Silvas pulled, and the monk stepped out of the light and into the Glade. The sphere of light instantly vanished, without a sound. Paul turned loose of Silvas's hand and sank to his knees, trembling violently.

Maria reacted more quickly than Silvas. She got up off of the divan and knelt at the monk's side. She put her arm around his shoulders, holding him and projecting Silvas's calming spell to him.

"It's all right," she said speaking words over the chanting within her mind. "You know us both, and you know that this is right."

"I'll leave Maria to explain what is happening, Brother Paul," Silvas said. "I feel a sudden urge to consult with Bay."

Maria looked up and nodded. Silvas left quickly. For a moment, Satin and Velvet moved around haphazardly, as if uncertain whether to follow Silvas or stay with Maria. Since Silvas gave them no time for their ruminations, they stayed. He was already gone and on the back stairs, racing toward the mews.

"Come over here and have a seat." Maria almost physically lifted the monk from the floor. That would have been no great feat of strength. The monk was thin, and scarcely weighed as much as Maria. She knew that if it became necessary, she could hold the monk above her head for as long as circumstances warranted without real effort. But this was gentler, an insistent urging that he resisted only briefly.

"Have a drink of wine. It will help."

She gave him her own goblet. Paul had to hold it in both hands to keep it steady. Even so, Maria had to help, her hands over his, until he had taken one long drink and another, shorter, sip. The monk took a deep breath then and finally let his eyes meet hers.

"I thought I was done seeing miracles," he said in a shaky voice. "I had already seen more miracles than any man could hope to see in a long, full life. But now, it seems that they are merely beginning for me."

"Perhaps," Maria said. "You remember what happened in the church, after the battle?"

Brother Paul felt his mind flash back to the scene in his church, with all of the dead, dying, and badly wounded lying around on the floor. The smells of brimstone and blood had been heavy in the dampness of heavy rains. There had been the crying of the hurt and the bereaved.

"There was a light," Paul said slowly, looking over the top of Maria's head now. "It enveloped the three of you, Carillia, Silvas, and you. It hung there for a moment, and time seemed to stop. When the light faded, Lady Carillia was dead."

"In those last moments, Carillia passed her divinity to Silvas, and to me. We share it fully. In our minds and souls, we are united fully, as the Blessed Trinity is. We are one god in two persons."

Brother Paul tried to absorb what he had been told. It went against a lifetime of training and faith, but he kept telling himself that he had to believe. He had seen too much not to accept what he was hearing. For the first time, he seemed to become aware of the violent storm raging above the Seven Towers. He glanced toward the window, then back at Maria.

"The storm, has it been going on for long?" he asked.

"Since Silvas and I spoke with Mikel, the Unseen Lord of the White Brotherhood."

Paul did not hear the name Mikel. He had not the power yet to grasp the hidden names of the gods.

"The storm began as our conversation ended, but I must take you back farther, to the time when we parted between the church and the pillar of smoke that concealed the entrance to the Seven Towers, back in Mecq." Maria poured more wine and waited for Paul to take another drink before she related, as well as she could, all that had happened since she had entered the Glade with Silvas. She told him of the twenty gods that had been and the dozen that remained.

"Thirteen or fourteen, actually," she said, amending what she had just told Paul. "It depends on how you reckon Silvas and me. But twelve of the old gods remain. Six died in the battle that was centered on Mecq. Two had died in earlier battles among the brood."

Although Maria was as brief as she could be in her recital of the events that had taken place in the last several days, it still took quite some time to tell it all, and to give what descriptions she could of the gods that she and Silvas had seen in the Citadel of the Shining City. Brother Paul could not hear the secret names of the gods, but she told him what she could of them, their appearance and behavior. She dwelled particularly on Mikel, and on Barreth and Gioia.

As Maria's lecture continued, Paul found himself occasionally distracted by the storm. He heard Maria speaking. Her words—save those names of power he could not grasp—sank firmly into his mind. But he also heard the pounding of rain against the window, and the wind howling outside. He saw the many streaks of lightning that flashed across the sky.

The storm drew him. Eventually, he got to his feet and walked across the room to the one window, a trifle unsteady on his feet from the combination of shock and wine. Brother Paul had not eaten in a day and a half, and his fast made him weak—and particularly susceptible to the strong wine Maria had given him.

"This storm," Paul asked suddenly, interrupting Maria. "Is it entirely natural?"

"It seems to be. We've been able to detect no hand behind it."

"Such a fierce storm, worse even than the one the Blue Rose launched against Mecq when Silvas brought water to the River Eyler."

"It is still summer, the season of such storms."

"Perhaps I merely spent too many dry years in Mecq," Paul said. "I'm sorry. I interrupted you."

Maria continued with what she had been saying. She had lost all track of time long before the storm outside ended—as suddenly as it had begun. The eerie quiet it left behind seemed unnatural. It was almost more frightening than the storm had been.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Silvas did not try to analyze the urge that drove him to consult with Bay. He merely accepted it and made his departure from the small sitting room as quickly as possible. He took the route to the mews through the curtain wall so that he could get there without going out into the storm. Bay was alone in his stall. If he had been sleeping, which was unlikely with the storm, he woke in time for Silvas's arrival.

"I sent Bosc off to sleep," Bay said before Silvas could remark on his absence. "What brings you out this late in such a state? Did your interview with Mikel go badly?"

"Badly enough," Silvas said. "But that isn't what brings me here. I merely had a sudden urge to consult with you."

"About what?"

Silvas told Bay all that had passed, a detailed review of the conversation with Mikel, the thoughts that he and Maria had shared, and the appearance of the globe of light with Brother Paul clearly visible within.

"I brought him through easily. Maria is with him now."

"I mistrust coincidences at the best of times, and this is not the best of times," Bay said. "This day and night have been filled with coincidences. The first time you attempt to contact Mikel, his sister Gioia appears. The second time, the conclusion of your talk is marked by the onset of this storm. Then Brother Paul appears to you in a globe of light, and you bring him physically to the Seven Towers. Where is the cause? What is the 'why' of it?"

Silvas smiled. Listening to Bay carry on actually eased his own tensions. "While we seek motives, why did I have such a compulsion to race down here so quickly that Satin and Velvet had no time to decide if they should accompany me?"

Bay snorted. "Obviously because you feel you need my counsel. But of all these coincidences, the one I mistrust most is the one that brought the vicar of Mecq within our walls, inside our defenses. Had you sought my advice first, I would surely have advised against it."

"I trust Brother Paul implicitly," Silvas said. "His knowledge and power may be limited, but I know his heart."

"Why did he appear to you?"

"I don't know," Silvas admitted. "He said that I had been in his thoughts, that he had a feeling that I needed his help yet. Once we had talked, I had no hesitation at all in bringing him here. Whatever is to come, it seems that we need him."

"Or he needs to be among us for some reason of his own?" Bay suggested.

"Why do you mistrust him so?"

"I wouldn't say that I have any specific mistrust of him. I am merely suspicious of the circumstances. That is my nature. But there is one point on which you should perhaps dwell. Remember, his allegiance is to the White Brotherhood, to Bishop Egbert and the Pope, and—ultimately—to his Unseen Lord, who may well be our enemy now."

Silvas did not immediately try to refute anything that Bay said. He repeated the questions and warnings in his mind. He cast his thoughts toward Maria, encompassing both her and the monk. With greater subtlety than the Greater Mysteries of the Trimagister had permitted, he probed gently into the monk's thoughts, and beyond, into the deepest recesses of his mind and soul. He saw confusion and faith, and dedication—but not the slightest hint of duplicity or evil.

"His soul is as completely good as that of any man I've ever met," Silvas said slowly. "There is turmoil within him, yes. The circumstances under which I called him to the Seven Towers are far beyond his experience. He has but begun his study of the Greater Mysteries, and the knowledge that was hidden from him before will need time to find its place within his being, but I am certain that we have nothing to fear from Brother Paul."

"But is he master of his own soul?" Bay asked. "Though he be purely good, he might be the unwitting pawn of your enemies, as the knife you use to carve meat at table could be turned by an enemy's hand into a weapon to pierce your heart."

"I'm certain that he would resist with all his strength, and that strength is growing, even as we speak. There is always danger. An enemy might manage to make you throw me as we ride, hard enough to smash my head against a rock, or to toss me from a mountain path, someone might take that knife you spoke of and use it against me. But the answer to this danger is to help Brother Paul grow in strength and knowledge, to bring him along as rapidly as his mind and soul can bear."

For a moment, Silvas gave himself over to pacing. Bay waited in silence, keeping his eyes on Silvas.

"We'll be watchful, but there is nothing new in that," Silvas said when his pacing brought him back face-to-face with Bay. "I may be grasping at straws in a cyclone, but those straws may be all we can hold with surety at present."

"Straws may blow away in less than a cyclone," Bay said.

"I must make choices based on what Maria and I know, and on what our counselors can learn for us. All of these centuries, I've done the bidding of my master. Now I have no master. Maria and I must make the proper choices for ourselves or perish. We have such knowledge within us that it will take an age and more to master it all. And even if we do make proper choices at each turning, we still have no guarantee of survival. Before, my greatest fear was of failing my Unseen Lord. Now, there is so much more to fear."

"Yet, it is too soon to abandon hope," Bay said. "The Seven Towers still stand. There is no storm of dread upon the air, merely rain and wind, lightning and thunder. If there are answers to be found, we may find them yet."

Bay's mention of the storm turned Silvas's attention to it again. He walked over to the large doorway that led from Bay's stall to the courtyard. The top half of the door was open, as it was in all but the worst winter weather. The rain was so heavy that it could not drain away as quickly as it fell. An inch of water covered the stone pavement of the courtyard, and the craters of new rain hitting the standing water overlapped each other. The water looked almost black, even when the sky was most illuminated by lightning.

"If it keeps up this hard much longer, those crops still in the fields will suffer," Bay said.

"You think I should attempt to stop the storm?" Silvas asked.

"I was merely making an observation," Bay replied. "You seem so intent on watching the rain. As for stopping it, I would not counsel that, not so soon at least. It might give you some gauge of your new power, but it might reveal much to anyone watching."

"A gauge of power," Silvas said under his breath. I don't know how to measure my new power, he thought. His mind flicked briefly back to where Maria was still lecturing Brother Paul. Then his mind was roaming among the storm clouds, feeling the raw magnitude of their power. He saw himself looking down, forcing some view of the veil over the valley, seeing how it let the rain through without hindrance. The lightning also passed through unobstructed.

"I feel no dire call to gauge that power yet," Silvas said, wondering if Bay had any idea how far his mind had ranged in the space of a single breath.

Then the silence came. The rain and lightning stopped. The sky immediately started to clear as the storm clouds thinned out and started to break up.

Silvas scarcely had time to note that the storm had ended before he was caught up in something new. The silence was a tube that surrounded him and held him as tightly as the noose holds a hanging man. It was a drain that seemed to suck him through the floor of the stable. The cylinder held Silvas too tightly for him to move. Utter darkness folded in around him. He tried to spread his arms out to the sides, both to learn the extent of his prison and to try to slow the pace of his fall, but he could not move his arms away from his sides. Nor could he move his legs. The tube seemed to do more than restrict his movements. His mind seemed almost paralyzed by it as well. He could think, but he could not reach for power. In the eternity of his descent, he was no more than any mortal—helpless, hopeless, able to do nothing more than mark the fact of his rapid fall.

He did not breathe. His heart did not beat. Yet his mind lived, and Silvas knew that as long as he could hold on to that awareness, he would be able to reclaim his body, wherever this fall might take him. As long as both body and mind survived, Silvas would survive. In some fashion.

When it ends, I had best be in command of my faculties, Silvas decided.

He willed himself to blink, though he could see no visual confirmation of that fact. The darkness surrounding him was more complete than any he had ever experienced. The keenness of his wizard's eyesight was no help. Not even his new divinity gave form to this darkness. But he felt his eyes blinking, knew that his body was still under his command.

Next he turned his attention to his heart, setting a beat in his mind and imposing it on the other organ, caressing it until he could see his own heart beating as clearly as he had seen that other human heart beat as it lay on the forest road, before Mikel stomped it to nothingness. Breathing was even simpler, once Silvas focused his mind on it.

And still he fell.

How far have I fallen? quickly gave way to Where am I falling to? He could imagine only one destination for a fall that continued so long.

Silvas started to gather himself for whatever he might face when the fall finally ended—if it ended. He prepared the considerable weapons of his mind and will, ready to call for whatever might be needed. Then he willed his fall to slow, and—very gradually—he was finally able to impose his will on the descent.

Or so it seemed.

Once more he tried to extend his arms, but the dark pipe still held them motionless. He could scarcely wiggle his fingers at his sides. He could tilt his feet up and down, but could not move his legs, to the sides or back and forth. His head did move freely. He could turn it. He could tilt it to either side. He could even, within close limits, move it backward and forward before he reached the limits of his confinement.

Since I can see nothing, I suppose it matters very little, he told himself.

Maria, can you hear me? Do you know what is happening to me? He could not feel her presence tightly linked to his own, as he had already grown accustomed to. He strained to catch her response, to feel her mind united with his, but there was only a ghostly echo of a reply, one he feared he was imagining.

Silvas was unprepared for the end of the fall. Without warning, his feet struck a hard surface. He buckled at the knees and waist and fell forward, heavily, with an instant of sharp pain. There were no longer walls holding him in position. The ground he fell against was extremely hot to the touch, hot enough that he picked himself up quickly. He did not remain down to check for injuries.

At first, the darkness appeared to remain total. Silvas extended a foot out in front of him, sliding it along the ground, feeling for a return pressure. Then he brought the foot back and extended it in a different direction. Slowly, he discovered that the patch of ground, or whatever it was, that he stood on was at least two full paces in diameter.

He kept returning to his original position, unwilling to stray far from that spot until he had some better idea of what he might find. Only gradually did the blackness of his surroundings moderate, whether in response to his powerful commands for light or not, he could not say. Some traces of vision returned. He could see the merest hints of shape in the dark, but always as if at the end of long tunnels, strangely compressed on all sides, as a man who was nearly blind might see them.

Silvas sniffed at the air and caught a vague whiff of an odor not unlike that given off by the lava flow he had stopped at Mecq.

"If this is Hell," he whispered, relieved to hear his own voice, "then I must be only in its outermost precincts."

He strained the senses of his body, and the greater senses of his spirit, seeking any additional clues to his location, and the reason for his being there. But in those first moments, there seemed to be no sound not of his own making, and the sights were still only of vague form to the blackness, even when he exerted his augmented gift of telesight. When he looked down, he could not see his own body. The pains he had felt on landing evaporated, as if they had been no more than a response remembered from his mortal past.

The senses of his wizard's mind, and the senses of the divine power he had inherited, proved to be no more effective in discovering new information about his surroundings than his purely physical senses. For a time that seemed as eternal as his fall, he could see and hear nothing more than vague shapes in the blackness and echoes of emptiness.

When that blackness started to abate, it was so gradual that Silvas was slow to notice. Slowly, the place in which he stood took on form and apparent substance—a vast chamber of some deep cavern. The walls and ceiling were distant, the floor stretched away until it blended into the walls. The boundaries were as indistinct as those that bordered the ethereal chamber of his Wizard's Council.

Silvas turned slowly through a circle, careful to remain standing in the same place. His eyes searched out the limits of this place. When he looked upward, he could see no trace of the tube through which he had fallen. There was no hole visible to indicate where he had come from.

"I stand here almost naked," he said, looking down at himself again. He wore only what he customarily wore, a long, loose shirt over baggy trousers—the style of the eastern nomads. The belt around his waist held only his dagger with its ornately decorated hilt. He wore soft boots on his feet, and the heat of the ground was already penetrating them. The heat was not painful, but it was apparent and might soon grow to be a nuisance.

"I might find myself opposed by all the legions of Hell," he said. A memory came to him. Before the final battle of Mecq, Mikel had armed and armored his warriors.

Silvas saw the armor and the weapons in his mind, as if on display. He called the armor to him and felt its weight. When he looked down again, his body was clad in plate armor, down to his feet. There was a sturdy helmet on his head, a shield on his left arm. In his right hand he carried a sword.

The shining armor seemed to add light to Silvas's surroundings. There were deep, dull shades of red among the black now, like embers that had nearly died. They reflected off of the polished steel plate and seemed to grow in strength. Silvas turned through a circle again, looking to see if the added light would show him more.

As he looked, one lane seemed to grow a trifle brighter than its surroundings. It led from Silvas's feet off to one side of the cavern, in a straight line. With a shrug, Silvas started to walk along the lane. "As if I have a choice," he mumbled.

For twenty paces, the lane seemed to be the only change to his surroundings. Then the nature of the ground at either side of the lane seemed to alter. Silvas looked to be walking along a causeway across a black lake. The black and dark red became mottled and seemed almost to churn within solid form. There were small points of brighter reds and dull oranges, as if of fires that burned hotter. A dull hum started to grow around Silvas, without discernible form at first, but gradually resolving into the labored pleas of many weak throats.

"Help me, O Lord." "Save me, for I am a sinner." "I repent my sins." "The burning; the burning. Will it never end?"

The calls became more numerous. Silvas looked down at his right side and saw visions of dead sinners reaching out to him with both hands raised in entreaty, looks of ultimate horror on faces that seemed strangely elongated, as if stretched on a rack. For a moment, Silvas's footsteps faltered. He felt the pain and terror of damned souls. He even knew their sins: this man killed his brother to take his wife; that one stole from the church and then bore witness against another whose mind was too feeble to defend himself. As each pair of eyes met Silvas's, he knew their crimes. Some were minor. Others seemed to be almost beyond belief in their vileness: this one ordered the slaying of hundreds of innocent children under the guise of Crusade. Scores, hundreds, thousands of pleas—and crimes. Silvas soon felt swamped by the overwhelming weight of their sins.

I would stop and help, but I don't know how to help, or even if it is within my power.

"This is not why I was brought here," he said aloud. "These are but distractions." He strode forward with new purpose. I am not here for the redemption of sinners, he told himself. That is the job of another.

"Will you, too, abandon us?" the voices in the ground demanded. Their earlier cries were abandoned as the burning souls screamed at him in unison. It became a chant, repeated endlessly, louder with each verse.

"I do not hold the keys to Hell!" Silvas finally shouted. "You held your own keys in life and chose not to use them."

Slowly, the chanting faded, but the faces of the condemned grew clearer. They still seemed to be impossibly distant, beneath the black and red and orange that was solid and opaque—yet impossibly transparent, and as turbulent as water beneath a high dam.

Silvas stopped again and looked around as carefully as he had before. There was no trace of the dull glow of a lane behind him. The path still seemed to begin where he stood and continued on in the same direction as before. The walls seemed to remain equally distant from him, as if he truly had not moved a single step in all of the endless time of his walk.

He raised his sword and looked at his reflection in the brightly polished steel. The face was the face he remembered, what little of it he could see beneath the half visor of his helmet. He took several slow, deep breaths.

"Is this only a fancy of my mind, or have I truly fallen into Hell?" he asked his reflection. "Is this a ghastly nightmare, or some attack whose nature is not yet clear?"

"You've heard the prayers of the living and the pleas of the dead."

That came as a clear voice in his mind, but it came not from within his mind, nor from Maria's. There was nothing familiar to the voice, yet Silvas thought that he should know it.

"Who are you?" he asked. "Why am I here?"

There was no answer, though Silvas waited through many heartbeats. He searched through his mind without finding any clear indication.

Eventually, Silvas resumed his walk along the marked path, more slowly than before. He continued to watch the faces in the ground, but he managed to shut off their insistent petitions for help. He gave more of his attention to the lane ahead of him, looking toward the wall of the cavern, trying to see some measure of progress to match the steps he was taking. But no matter how closely he focused, he could detect no progress. The wall seemed to remain as distant as it had been when he could first see it.

"Is this to be my eternity?" he asked the emptiness.

As if in answer, the reds and oranges of the hidden fires grew brighter, and finally licked the air above the ground at either side of the path, and behind Silvas, where the path continued to disappear after each step he took. Demons appeared and glided on the surface of the fires, laughing and taunting. These were not the minimal spectral creatures that Silvas had encountered as a wizard. The anatomy of these demons was complete, and gross, exaggerated wildly from human norms. They had large, hulking forms, with deeply sloping shoulders that accentuated immense, misshapen heads. The ears were large and pointed, sticking well out to the sides. The bodies were widest at the shoulders and narrowed down through the middle, which made broad hips seem even bulkier than they were. Their legs were short and bowed, as if unable to bear the weight. Their tails divided near the end to show triple points. In color, the demons had the same ember red hues of the cavern floor, only less reflective.

Though the demons bore a wide assortment of weapons, the favorite appeared to be the trident, a three-pointed spear with barbed points. The demons danced around the cavern, taunting Silvas while they stayed well out of his reach.

"Bastard get of a nameless whore" became a chant, echoed by dozens of demons. The refrain seemed to reverberate, growing with each repetition until it seemed that thousands of voices were screaming the words.

Silvas kept a tight grip on his sword, and a tighter grip on his growing anger. He could not shut away the voices of the demons as he had the voices of the dead. He dared not stop walking for a second now, but he occasionally glanced down. There was no path back in the direction from which he had come. He had to keep moving forward, following what remained of the path, though he still seemed no closer to the wall of the chamber than he had been when the path first appeared.

Without warning, the path became a treadmill under his feet, almost a living creature, a flat snake that moved against his steps. Silvas had to walk faster, and faster, to keep from losing ground and falling backward off of the moving belt. With the ground racing under his feet, the wall of the cavern suddenly started to approach at speed. Silvas's steps appeared to be dragging the path, and the wall, toward him. The demons increased the volume and tempo of their catcalls and curses, but at the same time they seemed to fade farther into the distance.

Silvas tried to slow his progress, but could not. When he walked slower, he tottered backward, as if he were about to fall, and he dared not risk that, though he could not fathom why he dared not.

The wall ahead seemed unbroken, and the pace of Silvas's rush became almost a run. His breath came faster, though shallower, as he fought for air to power his legs. It seemed certain to him that he would collide with the wall. But at the last possible instant, a black tunnel, just barely large enough to accommodate Silvas's striding form, opened up, and he passed into a tunnel as dark and featureless as the tube that had hemmed in his fall from the world above.

This time, he still had room to move. Once beyond the large chamber, the path stopped its own motion. Silvas was able to slow his pace, even halt for a moment. The path was once more inert, nothing more than a way from where he stood to he knew not what. Silvas looked back, but could see no trace of the cavern he had left. There were no glowing reds and oranges, no flames licking the air, no dancing demons. He continued to move forward, very slowly now, holding his sword in front of him to feel for obstructions, sliding his feet along the unseen path—carefully, to avoid the possibility of stepping off into an abyss.

The darkness persisted only briefly this time before Silvas emerged into another large cavern. This, too, was filled with the look of glowing embers and tongues of fire, but it was different from the first chamber. There were many levels to this room, large slabs of rock stacked to different heights. With effort, a man might reach a platform along the far wall that was a hundred feet above the point where Silvas entered the chamber. The colors were brighter as well, as if the glow came from hotter fires. The reds and oranges were clearer, and there were even bright yellow flames, making the chamber much easier to observe.

The room was also hotter. Silvas felt certain that he could not be so hot were he to embrace a burning log. The temperature oppressed but did not consume. The shining armor he wore seemed to reflect the greatest portion of the heat, though he could feel himself sweating profusely within that armor.

Silvas blinked away beads of sweat that were dripping from his eyelashes, and when the blink had ended, Satan was standing in front of him, no more than thirty feet away.

Silvas entertained not the slightest doubt that it was the Devil himself he faced. Satan appeared to be no more than a man, though larger and more grossly formed than most, with an unusually ruddy cast to his complexion. There were no horns on his head. No tail dragged behind. His hair was a particularly dark red, a wine red. In size, Satan might have passed without notice among Mikel and his brothers. He was dressed in red armor, without a helmet, and carried a two-handed sword. The six-foot blade did not leave a hand free for a shield.

"You've heard the prayers of the living and the recriminations of the damned," Satan said. His voice was a rumbling basso that recalled Bay's voice to Silvas's mind. "Do you see that there is no difference? You've been to the land of the gods, and now you are come to my land. You see the differences, no doubt with great clarity."

"To what point?" Silvas asked. The scene before his eyes met a scene in memory, of the black knight he had fought and destroyed—in thought, at least. But Satan was in red armor and wore no helmet. The sword was also different. Was it indeed an omen of this encounter? Silvas asked himself. But he was unsure of the answer.

"Point? Who needs a point? Perhaps this is for nothing more than my own amusement." The Devil laughed. "Or perhaps it is to show that you fear those puling children in the Shining City too much. Their power is nothing compared to mine, and your power is even less. I am the one you need to fear."

"I need fear you only if I lose faith in what I believe," Silvas said. "That is true no matter what happens in other lands."

"Deceive yourself while you may. I tire of this game. When mortals worry about what passes among such minor powers, they lose sight of my greatness. I will deal with the others at my convenience. I will deal with you now."

With that, Satan raised his claymore and quickly advanced at Silvas. Silvas firmed his grip on his shield and brought his sword up as he silently recited chants of power. Then he, too, advanced, unwilling to concede all of the momentum of attack to any opponent, even the Devil.

From the first clash of blades, Silvas knew that he could not hope to prevail. Satan's strength was greater than anything he could hope to attain, even as a god. The two-handed sword came down, and Silvas could scarcely deflect its course enough to keep it from crashing through his armor and body. At least his own blade did not shatter at the impact.

There was more than merely the difference in brute power between them. Satan moved with incredible agility and deceptive grace. It was all that Silvas could manage to meet each attack as it came. At every passage, Silvas came within a whisker of total defeat. Death. The two of them danced around each other's blades as Silvas retreated and turned, trying to stave off destruction for as long as possible. In vain, he tried to find a spell that would carry him out of the Devil's reach.

A blow from the claymore cut Silvas's shield in half, just above his forearm. The leather straps that had held the shield to his arm were severed, and both halves fell. Silvas adjusted his stance to fight without the shield and continued to retreat.

Satan's next blow dented the armor covering Silvas's left arm, and from the new stickiness the wizard god felt, he knew that the arm was cut as well. It seemed a miracle that the bone had not been broken—shattered—but Silvas could still move the fingers of his left hand, though it brought excruciating pain.

Silvas scarcely managed to jump aside, away from the next blow. The tip of Satan's sword scored his cheek in the opening below his half visor. Silvas used his blade to beat at the side of Satan's claymore, able to do no more than deflect it a few inches from its course. Satan laughed repeatedly.

"See, I but toy with you, to remind you of your mortality, immortal though you may think yourself. Whenever I choose, this exercise will end, and so will you. Mayhap I'll let you join the legions who pray for a deliverance that can never come. Or I may dispatch you straightaway, and take even the solace of that tormented existence from you."

Then a cold white light appeared in the chamber, off to the side, completely alien to the locale and shatteringly brilliant against the duller colors to which Silvas had become accustomed. He had to squint against the sudden brightness. Even Satan appeared to be disconcerted by the apparition.

Silvas could spare no more than the briefest glance. He needed to concentrate on his defenses. Satan's hesitation might be quite brief. Silvas saw Maria and Brother Paul standing in the patch of white light, on an elevation ten feet above his head and perhaps a hundred feet away. They were several feet from each other. Maria had her arms up, fingers pointed directly at the Devil. The monk also had his hands raised, but they held his crucifix—as weapon and shield.

Silvas moved forward, taking what advantage he could from the temporary lapse in Satan's assault. He beat the longer sword off to the side and struck toward the Devil's uncovered head. For the moment, Satan seemed completely nonplussed. He warded off Silvas's blow with unaccustomed awkwardness, trying to divide his attention between Silvas and the unexpected newcomers. He gave way for the first time in the duel, backing up one step and then another, trying to turn Silvas so he could more directly look at the two figures who had appeared to complicate his game.

While he could, Silvas pressed his advantage, belaboring Satan with as many strokes as he could manage while his mind reestablished its intimate link to Maria.

Maria felt the contact, but she let Silvas worry about maintaining it. She had more than enough to do to advance his own plans. Only desperation—the fear of losing half of herself, or more—gave her the strength and determination to even attempt it.

"There is the enemy," she told Brother Paul. "You know who he is."

Brother Paul was terrified almost to the death, his mind driven to a madness he dared not accept. He felt a pain that was physical as well as spiritual. He had recognized the Devil in his soul. At this pass, the monk could do nothing more than retreat into the basics of his faith, the open teachings of the Church and such minor magics as he had possessed as a minor adept of the White Brotherhood, magics that had never been designed for a pass such as this. But he put every ounce of his being into that little power, focusing himself as he had never before been able to.

Maria took the active lead once she felt Silvas firmly within her mind. She linked Brother Paul to the two of them, as directly as she dared, pouring a certain amount of knowledge—power—into him. At first, Paul's knees seemed ready to fail under the new burden, but then he firmed his stance and squared his shoulders. His voice found new power, and moved from familiar rituals to chant in unison with Silvas and Maria.

The white light spread slowly toward the duelists, a growing globe at the end of a tether that was anchored around Maria and Paul. Silvas felt himself strengthened by the bleak white illumination which so clearly oppressed the Devil. Silvas pressed forward. Satan gave up one step after another while he tried to reach out to counteract this new power.

But the three did not give him time. The ground, the air itself, seemed to freeze as the white light encompassed more and more of the cavern, and when that light finally touched Satan, he slowed down even more—until he stood motionless, except for his eyes.

"I don't know how long this will hold," Maria shouted to Silvas. "We need to be far away before he frees himself."

For a moment, Silvas stood with his sword raised, hilt held in both hands, prepared for a death stroke at Satan's neck, a blow such as he had struck at the black knight that had disrupted his earlier excursion with Maria. But a voice within him stayed the blow. You cannot harm him thus, and the stroke might only serve to free him to resume the fight. You dare not take that chance.

Bringing the sword down without striking at Satan was incredibly difficult. Silvas's arms, and the sword itself, seemed possessed of a contrary will, and power of their own. Maria and Paul ran to Silvas, hopping down from one level of the cavern to the next.

"Come, hurry," Maria urged. "I have our passage out."

"We will meet again," Satan promised as they ran from him. "I can never be defeated for long."

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The central section of the pentagram in Silvas's workshop was crowded with three people in it, particularly since Silvas still wore the armor he had conjured for himself in Hell. Despite the fact that both Maria and Brother Paul were thin, there was scarcely room for any of them to move in the minutes it took Maria to shut down the pentagram so that they could safely exit the pattern. Although she possessed all of Silvas's memories, she was unaccustomed to the active manipulation of this magic, so she felt constrained to move with exceptional care, and very slowly.

Silvas was unable to do much. He needed Maria's steadying hand simply to remain erect. When they finally left the pentagram, Silvas got clear of the outer lines and sank to his knees, then went forward on all fours and finally prone, his arms splaying out to the sides. Maria quickly knelt next to him. Paul stood on the other side, still in shock. The memory of his few moments in perdition were burned into his mind, replaying themselves already, a waking nightmare.

"Help me get this armor off," Maria said sharply. She was concerned about Silvas's condition, but saw that it was mostly extreme exhaustion; Satan had not seriously wounded him. Mentally, Maria told Koshka to bring refreshments to the workshop. Satin and Velvet were uncommonly slow to emerge from their protective circles at the edge of the room. They paced forward carefully, but did not come too close to Silvas. They looked at each other, then to Maria.

"He'll be fine," she assured the cats, and Paul. "You've seen him hurt before."

Getting the armor off of Silvas was an awkward business. He was completely unable to help. Maria loosened straps and turned him as necessary to free him from the metal. Brother Paul proved to be of minimal help. Not only was armor and its connections a mystery to him, his hands were shaking out of control and he seemed to lack all coordination. Maria beamed a quick calming spell at the monk, but she had to devote most of her attention to Silvas. The sense of his presence was dim.

Stay with me, my hero, she projected. Don't retreat so far. Silvas was not wounded to the point of death, he merely seemed to be pulling away from his body, as if he were prepared to abandon it permanently. Maria marshaled determination and strength, and sent them into the spark that remained centered within the core of Silvas's physical body. Once the armor was off of him, Silvas seemed to breathe more easily. His chest rose and fell as he fought for air, and his struggles brought his mind back. He became involved in the fight for his own survival.

"The greatest danger is past now," Maria told Brother Paul after several minutes of effort. "He'll return to us shortly." Already, she could feel the contact between her and Silvas growing stronger. Silvas was not paying much attention to the link they shared yet, but that link was becoming firm again. Silvas seemed to have not yet reached it, as if the link were a physical location somewhere within his being.

We can be separated, became a real worry for Maria. For the first time she had seen that the link between them was not proof against all happenstance. They had almost been separated while he was distant, and even now the link seemed tenuous, vulnerable, though both of them were grasping across it.

Silvas finally stirred on the floor. He drew his arms in to his side, and brought his legs together, as if he were worried that he might still be within the pentagram, in danger of touching one of the lines of power. The movements were slow and uncoordinated. But there was movement.

Brother Paul sat back heavily, gasping, suddenly unable to control the greedy chase for air. He became dizzy and had to lower his head. After a moment, the dizziness passed. He tried to focus on the room in front of him, on Silvas's face, or Maria's face—anything to keep from returning to the confrontation in his mind, the memory of facing the Devil in his stronghold.

"Go up those stairs over there," Maria told the friar. She spoke sharply, making her voice harsh, and pointed to the side of the workshop. "There's a small turret. Look out and see what morning has brought to the valley." Paul would be of no help to her in the workshop. Perhaps this chore would help him to gather his wits.

Paul stumbled as he got to his feet, and he nearly fell before he regained his balance. He staggered across to the doorway and the narrow stairs leading upward, grateful for some task to focus on.

Maria turned her attention away from the monk and continued to pour energy through to Silvas. He groaned and opened his eyes—but only briefly.

"You're safe now," Maria said, speaking to strengthen Silvas's ties to his body. "We're in the workroom. It's dawn, a new day. The Seven Towers still stand."

Silvas's eyelids flickered several times, but his eyes had drooped closed again and did not reopen. Maria finally took time to look more closely at the body that he had almost abandoned. The skin of his face and neck was red, burned. His left sleeve was ripped and bloody. There was a long, jagged cut in the upper arm. The cut had stopped bleeding, but the skin around it was badly bruised and inflamed. Maria put the palm of her right hand over the area—it was painfully hot to the touch—spoke a word of power, and the wound vanished.

Silvas's face was also burning to her touch. Maria spoke soft words of healing and took the heat into her hands. Silvas's face remained red, but his temperature decreased.

Koshka came in with a tray. Maria did not turn around quickly enough to see the first flash of alarm on Koshka's face, but she did sense his worry.

"He'll be all right, Koshka. He faced a deadly enemy and survived. Did you bring wine?"

"Wine and orange juice, my lady," Koshka said, fighting not to stutter over the words. "And food."

"Has breakfast begun in the great hall yet?"

"The folk are just gathering, my lady."

"I think we'll try to come down shortly, Koshka. Silvas will need a full feeding this morning."

"Aye, my lady. Where shall I set this?"

"Right here at my side."

After Koshka left, Maria raised Silvas's head and poured a little wine into his mouth. He coughed and sputtered, and finally opened his eyes again. Maria held the goblet to his lips, and he managed to drink on his own.

"That was a near thing," he said.

"Very near," Maria agreed. I'm not ready to lose you. I can't bear this gift alone.

Silvas sat up with only a little help. Maria gave him a goblet of orange juice, and he drank it down. Then he leaned forward to reach the tray and started taking indelicate handfuls of the usual fruit and cheese selection, simply shoving food into his mouth to assuage ravenous hunger, completely unconcerned with delicacy. His mind was virtually blank during these first moments, concerned only with the need to eat. His focus was so intense that Maria became nearly as hungry herself.

"Where is Brother Paul?" Silvas asked after several minutes had passed.

"I sent him to look out the turret to see what the new day is like." Maria glanced toward the stairs. "He should be back by now."

As if he had been waiting for a cue, Paul came down the stairs and into the workshop. He appeared visibly relieved that Silvas was sitting up and eating, but his forehead was knotted in puzzlement.

"The sky," he said. "I've never seen a sky like that, filled with every color of the rainbow. The sun shimmers gracefully through it. I could scarcely take my eyes from the sight."

"We know of the sky," Maria said. "One of the old gods ceiled over this valley, to put us apart from all other men. Silvas and I strengthened that shield and made it our own."

Silvas stopped eating and wiped his hands on his tattered clothing. "Yes, I want to see how our handiwork looks in the daylight."

"I told Koshka that we would be going down to the great hall for breakfast," Maria said. "He was concerned to see you lying unconscious."

"Breakfast. Yes, that's a good idea," Silvas said. "I need more substantial food than this. Meat and eggs and whatever else the cooks have prepared this morning."

"We can take a moment for you to change clothes," Maria said, looking at his ragged clothing.

"Yes, this took quite a beating in Hell." There was no levity in his voice, but neither was there fear.

Silvas got to his feet without help. He stood and stretched, bending at each joint, extending arms and legs in turn, reveling in the feel of a body that still functioned. Then he looked at Brother Paul.

"You've had a troubling welcome to the Glade," Silvas said.

"So much has happened to me this week past that my mind is numb. I hardly have time to get past my amazement at the way you summoned me from St. Ives, and I find myself going to Hell to face Satan. If the horn should blow right now for Judgment Day, I could scarcely take comfort, or surprise."

Silvas looked from Paul to Maria. "I don't know if even Judgment Day would bring an end to our labors, or to our peril."

"There'll be time enough for philosophy later," Maria said. "For now, to breakfast. Brother Paul, you must be famished. You've had heavy labor, and you said you had been fasting."

"It's been two days and three nights since food last passed my lips," Paul said. "I think. I no longer rightly remember."

—|—

The three of them spent more than an hour at breakfast. Brother Paul broke his fast greedily. Maria ate with more abandon than she normally did, her appetite heightened by the strength of Silvas's hunger. And Silvas's appetite remained unabated until the very end of the meal. The warriors and workers of the Glade ate their own breakfasts and watched in varying amounts of wonder as the three at the head table consumed their food as if they had not eaten in weeks. The example set some to eat more than their accustomed portion, while it put others entirely off their own appetites.

But Silvas did not rise to give any warning of danger, so most of the humans, gurnetz, and esperia finally relaxed, either to return to their own eating or to go out to their work without special worry. By the time the three people at the head table finished eating, most of the other tables were empty. Servants were clearing the tables of the remnants of the morning meal.

Silvas leaned back finally, so sated that he thought he could not eat so much as one more grape. He looked around the great hall and then at his companions. Maria was at his right, Paul at his left. Maria had finished eating considerably before Silvas, and even Paul had been doing no more than picking at food for ten minutes or more.

"If gluttony remains a sin, then I have sinned," Paul said when he met Silvas's gaze. The monk felt more than sated, almost physically ill at the quantity of food he had consumed after his fast. His head felt strangely light, and his stomach was already complaining.

"Then so have I," Silvas replied with a laugh. "I wouldn't worry about it. You've gone beyond the open teachings of the Church, and even beyond the Greater Mysteries of your brotherhood in this last night. We've all gone into a territory that few of this world have ever seen and returned from."

"Just what did you see?" Maria asked. "Much of your experience is veiled, even from me."

A cloud seemed to pass across Silvas's eyes. He felt memories of agony and took a deep breath to settle it. "I've walled it off from myself as well, for now at least," he said. "We won't speak of it here. I still want to see the sky. I want to see the dome that lies over our valley from the highest vantage of the Seven Towers. Now that we have all filled our bellies, we should have the strength to climb to the parapets."

It was a trek that Silvas made but rarely. For so many centuries he had spent most of his days either on the road or in the villages and towns of the realm that he seldom had the opportunity or need to climb the 150 steps from the main level of the keep to its parapets, the highest of the castle's seven towers. Satin and Velvet met them on the stairs as they passed the level of the wizard's apartments.

There was a single human guard on duty when they arrived. He walked the perimeter, looking out through each of the crenels that he passed. The guard looked to Silvas when the wizard and his companions emerged from the doorway at the top of the stairs.

"Pay us no mind," Silvas told him. "We merely came to look. Go down to the level below until we finish, if you please. Take a rest from your watch."

"Aye, my lord." The guard hurried to obey.

"Look at that sky!" Silvas said after the sentry was gone. "Though it still worries me that one of the gods sought to seal us away from the world, that is a magnificent sky. I could glory in it for hours."

"All the colors that are," Paul said, feeling a catch in his chest. "So delicate, yet so rich, an affirmation of the promise given to Noah." Paul hesitated for a moment then, feeling embarrassed that he had drifted so quickly back to the basics of Scripture. "Can it be seen from outside this valley?"

"No. From the outside, it appears as if this valley doesn't even exist," Silvas said. "The roads bend around it. Even the hills show no memory that we are here."

"Is it really a defense against your enemies?" Paul asked. "Against any of the enemies who might do you harm?"

"It was certainly not proof against Satan," Maria said.

"Here," Silvas said, turning toward her. He opened the corner of his mind where he had walled away his experiences in Hell and let her see and feel them. The process took less than an instant. Paul was never even aware of a lapse as Maria absorbed everything that had befallen Silvas the night before.

There were a few high clouds in the morning sky, but no trace of the storm clouds that had ceiled the valley and its environs during the night. The sun was bright, moving gradually above the blue band in the rainbow sky. Within the valley, Silvas and his companions could see some signs of damage, trees down, split by lightning and felled during the storm.

"It wouldn't hold out any of the old gods for long," Silvas said, speaking to Paul while Maria probed the memories he had just opened for her. "But it might give us time to prepare more effective defenses. Even before we strengthened this barrier, it took some effort for Maria and me to pass through it. Now, there might be enough of a delay for an enemy to put us on our guard. The Unseen Lord or one of his brethren, that is."

"You think my Unseen Lord might be your enemy now?" Paul asked cautiously.

"He doesn't seem to be an active enemy," Silvas said. "But he will not take our part in whatever comes, either."

"I am finding it difficult to rise above the teachings of the Church that I learned from my childhood," Paul said. "I have seen beyond. Bishop Egbert assured me of the greater validity of the higher mysteries. But a lifetime of training and discipline is difficult to put aside."

"I realize your difficulty," Silvas assured him. "Maria and I will do what we may to help, but it will still come down to the voice within you. Give your trust to that rather than to the words of others, even our words."

"Satan was beyond our reckoning," Maria said, finally satisfied that she had missed nothing in her review of what had happened to Silvas in Hell. She pulled herself up to sit in one of the crenels.

"He's not one of the divine siblings," Silvas said. Despite his attempts to wall off those memories, some part of his mind had continued to probe at them. "He's not a brother to Mikel and the others. He may even antedate them. Despite his low station, his ties are to the realm above the land of the gods, to the land of their parents."

"There's so much we need to teach you," Maria told Paul. "And we know not how much time we may have."

"I will learn as quickly as I am able," Paul promised.

"You've had a long vigil. Do you feel the need of sleep?" Silvas asked.

"Sleep?" Paul repeated in surprise. "How could I sleep? I've met the Devil in combat, and somehow survived. I've been whisked across much of England in the space of a blink."

Silvas grinned. "I feel that I could sleep for a week, but I won't notice if that sleep is yet postponed. We'll begin your new education at once. But not up here. We'll go down to the library and let the guard return to his post."

—|—

"I spent many years as apprentice to Auroreus, the wizard who built the Seven Towers," Silvas explained to Paul when they were all seated in the library. But Silvas could not remain seated. He got up and started to pace.

"Apprentice." Silvas turned and looked directly at Paul, then he glanced at Maria. I've given this no thought. Yet here I find that I assume that it is necessary to make Paul my apprentice in the Greater Mysteries of the Trimagister.

It must be right, Maria replied. She glanced at Paul, who was looking back and forth between them, aware that something was going on, but not what. But he must enter this path of his own free will.

"Yes," Silvas said. He crossed to Paul and stood just in front of him. "I'm getting far ahead of myself here. I must ask you a question, and I must advise you to think most carefully before you hazard an answer."

"Ask your question, Lord Silvas," Paul said. He felt proud that his voice did not quaver.

"Bishop Egbert took you to St. Ives to study the Greater Mysteries of the White Brotherhood. I ask you to study the way of the Trimagister instead, a course that may take you beyond even the Greater Mysteries of that calling. I ask if you will become my apprentice."

"Just what is involved?" A mixture of fear and elation nearly overwhelmed Paul, but he managed to keep most of that from his voice. Only the quickness of his reply gave him away.

"Hard work and danger," Silvas said. "I spent many years learning from Auroreus. I was seven when he brought me here to be his apprentice. It was not until I was twenty-one that he permitted me to undergo formal initiation in the Greater Mysteries, and I continued to study under his tutelage until the very day of his death, many years later. You will have to compress those years into perhaps as many days. With Carillia's gift, I have ways to assist you that Auroreus did not, but it will be difficult work, and you won't have the advantage of years to get used to your new talents and knowledge. That will add, perhaps, to the danger that is always implicit in such expanded circumstances."

"Here is the scroll you gave me," Maria said, handing Dei et Deae to Silvas. She had not left the room to fetch it. She had merely willed its return, and it had appeared in her hand. Paul had been looking at Silvas and had not noticed the magic.

Silvas looked at the closed scroll and laughed softly—within himself—at the way Maria had collected it. Then he looked at Paul again. "Take whatever time you need to make this decision. It wants even more assurance than the final vows you took to wear that cassock."

Paul bowed his head for a moment, then looked up to meet Silvas's eyes. "Yes, this does take reflection—and prayer."

"Take what time you need," Silvas repeated. "Though we don't know what time remains to us, this must not be rushed. If you accept, you must do so thoroughly, without question."

Paul nodded again and stood. He looked from Silvas to Maria, then left the library, going to the stairs to climb once more to the parapets.

"I had no memory of any past when Auroreus brought me here," Silvas told Maria after the monk left them. "I knew no other life but the one he gave me. To hear Auroreus, you would think that no one who came to the study of the Trimagister older than I was could possibly win through to initiation."

"You feel that our gift makes it possible?"

"It must. I can't explain this sense that I have that this is right and necessary, but it is overpowering."

I feel it as well, Maria replied. We will do whatever is necessary.

"If he agrees," Silvas said.

—|—

Paul climbed the stairs slowly this time, taking little notice of his route. His mind was directed within. Meditation was an old friend, a skill he had learned as a boy when his path was first directed to the Church.

I was meant to be a country priest, he told himself. The way of the White Brotherhood is the only one I know. I'm too old to change my path.

He felt a large measure of fear, and recognized it. After the night's foray, fear was as strong and real as the feeling of the presence of God when the Host was elevated during Mass.

That is real. That is what I know, he told himself.

It was almost a shock when there were no more stairs to climb. His foot went up again, reached for one more step, then came down hard when there was no step for it to reach. Paul looked around quickly. The sentry had heard that last footfall and turned to look. When he saw that it was merely the cleric who had been with Silvas and Maria before, the sentry turned his attention back to the outside, his thoughts his own.

You have already learned much, though, a voice inside the friar said. You are not what you were a fortnight past. You can never be that person again.

Paul started to sink to his knees to pray, but he stopped, almost without willing it. He looked down.

I know only the Church.

You know more, the other voice in his mind said. You have participated in a Wizard's Council. You have fought a great battle, been part of incredible magics. You fought Satan in his own realm. Your bishop said you were fit for greater things and thought to start you on the road to the Greater Mysteries of the White Brotherhood. Silvas offers you even more.

"More danger," Paul whispered, so softly that the sentry did not overhear.

The opportunity to do more good, the advocate within Paul said. You have no choice but to accept.

I have every choice, Paul countered. Lord Silvas made that clear.

Then he did retreat to prayer, but he prayed standing on his feet, looking up into the rainbow-hued sky. The many special birds of the Seven Towers came to circle over his head, to sing and romp in the sunlight. Paul watched them and wondered at the purity of their colors and song, at the innocent abandon in their song and flight.

Then he made his choice.

—|—

"I will be your apprentice, if you still want me," Paul announced when he returned to Silvas and Maria in the library.

"I am glad you've made your choice," Silvas said. "I welcome you to the path of the Trimagister. I will not say that you'll never regret your choice. You will, perhaps often. But it is my firm belief that this is the path on which your feet belong. Come, we'll start immediately."

Silvas seated Paul at one of the reading desks and placed the scroll Dei et Deae in front of him.

"There's one thing we should do even before this," Silvas said then, suddenly changing direction in his mind. "It is customary for a person new to this path to take a new name, one by which he will be openly known. There are certain magics that are fully effective only if they are summoned with a person's birth name, so we avoid that. I haven't spoken the name I was christened with since I first came to the Seven Towers."

"Will you give me my new name, or do I choose it myself?" Paul asked.

"Auroreus gave me Silvas, but I was but a lad of seven and from a far distant place. Choose your own if you will."

Paul looked around the library. He looked at the racks filled with scrolls, the shelves lined with books. He looked at Silvas, at Maria, and at the two large cats. His eyes lingered longest on Satin and Velvet.

"If you have no objection, I would be known as Felix," Paul said finally. "Felix both for these magnificent cats and for the happiness I would find."

"Then Felix you are," Silvas said. "That is not to say that you will never use another name for convenience. But the name that you bore before now becomes a word unspoken."

"Unless I chance on those who have known me before?" Felix asked.

"You'll learn to deal with that, if the occasion should arise," Silvas said. "It never has with me."

"Felix. I like that name," Maria said. "It speaks of hope, of promise."

"And now, we really must start, Felix," Silvas said. During the hours to follow, he used the new name as frequently as possible, helping to wed the name to its owner. It felt appropriate. Silvas spoke of trees and forests, and Silvas had spent much of his life riding through such vistas; and had even found Carillia in a forest. Auroreus had spoken of gold and other bright things, and much of his life had been spent in the courts of greatness, among emperors and senators in Rome. Felix did speak of cats and of happiness, joy. Perhaps it would prove to be a fortunate choice for its owner.

"This scroll is one that Auroreus wrote as a primer for me when I first came to the Seven Towers. It is in a melange of languages that would drive you to distraction if you were forced to piece out the meaning the way I was. This is where we will take the first of our shortcuts. Turn your attention to the beginning of the manuscript and read."

Silvas stood behind Felix and put his hands on the former monk's head. Felix started to read. Though he recognized that there were many different languages in the document, he read them as easily as if they were long-memorized passages of Scripture, and the various languages became a part of his store of knowledge, knowledge spreading far beyond the actual words and constructions used in the manuscript. At the same time, Silvas lectured him, in spoken words and in direct thought, glossing the manuscript and adding so much more of the preliminary lessons that a wizard's apprentice had to know before he could attempt even the simplest application of the power of the Trimagister.

At first, Maria sat and observed, her mind linked to Silvas's so that she was aware of all that passed between the wizard and his pupil. Then she left the room without Felix's notice. She went about the castle, even out to the mews to inform Bay of what was transpiring in the keep—and what had happened the night before after Silvas had disappeared from before the horse's eyes. At times, Maria returned to the library to observe for a few moments, to take stock of Felix's progress. Under direct link to Silvas, the new apprentice could hardly help but learn quickly. Such study could not be easily shirked.

Silvas poured himself into the task, concentrating as fully on teaching Felix as he had ever concentrated on the most complex magic. He molded the mind between his hands to hold everything that an apprentice had to learn, and he dug into his own memory in more detail than he had in ages to recall the sequences in which Auroreus had taught him.

Hours passed as minutes. Neither Silvas nor Felix was truly aware of the passage of time. Together, they explored the pathways of Felix's mind and placed new stores of data there, as workers might cache bags of grain in a warehouse. As the day passed, Felix found ample opportunity to marvel at the amount of room for storage within him, and the new ease with which he could retrieve stored memories. Silvas tested him mercilessly, over history and practical knowledge, forced him to parse the spells and explain in detail how each could be erected, what it was meant to do, and what complications might arise. Felix went beyond exhaustion into exhilaration. He found himself rushing the pace rather than begging leave for a moment's respite. The lore of the Trimagister took him in its grip. Hunger for knowledge drove him forward. Brother Paul was lost in the shadows of Felix's greater knowledge.

At mid-afternoon, Maria returned to the library once more and sat where she had been sitting earlier. She took note of Felix's progress with a smile and more than a little pride. The onetime vicar of Mecq, the friend of her childhood, was proving to be an excellent candidate. Maria settled in to follow his continued education, and to make sure that Silvas and Felix broke off their work when it was time for the evening meal.

Maria had been there for nearly an hour when Bosc burst into the room, radiating agitation so powerfully that Silvas came out of the near trance he had been in since taking his position over Felix that morning.

"Lord, the sky!" Bosc shouted, not waiting for his master to turn or acknowledge his presence.

"What is it?" Silvas asked, blinking repeatedly.

Felix put his hands to his temples and pressed against the sudden ache in his head, also blinking as he became aware of the light in the room again. He had lost his guide so abruptly that he needed a moment to find his equilibrium.

"You must look, lord," Bosc insisted. "Bay told me to bid you climb to the battlements to look for yourself."

Silvas and Maria shared an impulse to simply project their minds outside, to look without moving, but—together—they suppressed that instinct. If Bay thought that they should climb to the top of the keep and actually look, it was likely important that they do so.

Silvas and Maria led the way up the stairs. Felix did his best to stay close behind them, but the education of the day had not included any new reserves of physical strength. He quickly lagged behind, as did Bosc. The esperia's shorter legs would not allow him to keep up with racing humans on stairs. Satin and Velvet moved past Felix and Bosc.

The sight that awaited them was enough to stop Maria and Silvas in their tracks at the top of the stairs.

"The sky," Maria whispered.

"Of course," Silvas replied, just as softly.

The sky's colors had deepened from the pastel rainbow of the morning. There was an angry look to the colors now, particularly the reds and oranges of the west that now filtered the light of the afternoon sun. But even the blues and violets of the eastern horizon seemed to boil and seethe with anger. Close to the horizon, all around, there was a new eerie reflectiveness to the sky, as if the walls around the valley were becoming more solid, closing them in more thoroughly. Faintly, they could hear a distant whisper of battle music.

"These enemies feel no need for the cover of darkness," Maria whispered as Felix and Bosc finally reached the battlements.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

"These enemies feel no need for the cover of darkness."

Maria's words were a call to arms, heeded immediately throughout the Seven Towers. The sentry on the battlements of the keep ran to a crenel to shout his warning, but before he could, a trumpet blared in the bailey below. Braf Goleg was already taking action. Maria's words had touched his mind directly. Warriors of all three races ran to their positions, ready to repel any force that might descend on the Glade.

Silvas restrained his impulse to run for the pentagram in his workshop. "I don't feel the approach of any enemy," he said, his eyes locked to Maria's.

She shook her head uncertainly, then turned through a complete circle, looking out at the ridgelines that bordered the valley of the Seven Towers. Silvas also looked out, turning in the opposite direction. He and Maria shared both views, a dual vision that did not trouble them at all.

Felix also looked around, uncertain what he might see. He did not yet have the wizard's gift of telesight. But he did have an increased sensitivity to what was happening. The roil of the colors in the veil was reflected within him, an awareness of anger and contempt, a feeling of oppression that left him longing to retreat deep within himself.

He spoke those feelings aloud.

"Don't try to hide from them," Silvas counseled. "Let them wash over you and flow through. To identify them is three parts of conquering them."

The regular lines of the rainbow were obscured by the new show in the heavens. Where one color had blended cleanly into the next, there was now a torment of pulsing swirls. Ragged jets of color shot across the dome of sky to be slowly overridden by other swirls or jets. There seemed to be no order at all to the sky. The sun was hidden, but night did not come. The sky remained as bright as day.

Two esperia of the guard came to the top of the keep. Braf had dispatched them because of the particularly keen eyesight of their kind. The porcine kindred of Bosc and Koshka made indifferent warriors, but they made the best sentries of the three races who lived in the Seven Towers and its village. These two went first to Bosc when they came off of the steps from below.

"What is this?" one of them asked softly.

Bosc could do no more than shake his head and confess that he had no idea. "They show no alarm yet," he added, gesturing at Silvas and Maria. "As long as they do not, neither will I."

The new esperia climbed up into crenels on opposite sides of the keep, then up to the top of the wall, where they sat, looking out over the valley.

"Have you no idea what's going on?" Felix asked after nearly an hour of observing the mesmerizing movements of the colors in the sky.

"It may be no more than a demonstration," Silvas said. "The original creator of this veil may want to show us that our efforts to take over his handiwork were in vain."

"Were those efforts in vain?" Felix pressed.

"I think not," Maria said. She and Silvas had spent the time observing and investigating, probing far and near. That they had found no clear answer was both an encouragement and a worry. "If that were so, the clearest demonstration would have been to make the veil go away, then to replace it as it originally was—or with an entirely new artifact."

"If it is not merely a demonstration?"

"Then we shall see," Silvas said. "The danger, if there is specific danger in this, has not closed yet."

"And the battle music?" Felix asked. "It seems to grow stronger."

"Stronger and stranger," Silvas confirmed. "I have no idea what it means." He said the last as if his ignorance were of no particular concern to him, but it was. He had extended every sense and power he could conceive of in an effort to at least find the origin of the music and the turmoil in the sky, but every effort had come to naught so far.

Clouds of brilliant color gathered in the turbulent sky, vast and seemingly alive in their movement and growth. Lightning flashed in bright streaks of primary and secondary hues, but did not assault the ground, or the towers of the Glade. It was as if the various clouds were jousting with each other, or perhaps only tickling one another. The thunder was muted, and seemed more a drumbeat to time the battle music that hovered above the valley.

After a time, a new sort of cloud started to appear, widely spaced, rarely more than two or three of them visible at a time. These clouds appeared to be smooth sheets, always of the palest lavender color, and each bore a portrait. The faces that appeared were not readily identifiable, even to Silvas and Maria. There was a vague familiarity to some of them, but no clear idea of who they were.

"I think these are some of the old gods," Maria said after several had appeared and faded. "Perhaps the ones who have died?"

"No, there are too many," Silvas said after several more had come and gone. "These may be gods, including those we've met, but if so, they wear different guises, masking their identity."

Braf came up to the battlements, fully armed. "I've taken what action I know to take, lord," he said when he presented himself to Silvas. "All of my men are at their stations. The drawbridge is up. The gates are barred. Is there more I should be doing?"

Silvas shook his head idly. "Not at present. In fact, I think we may safely reduce those measures until some clearer picture emerges."

"No enemy comes?"

"If they are coming, they're not yet close," Silvas said. "We should husband our energy for now."

"But leave more than normal sentries?"

"Yes, perhaps one man in three, and relieve them regularly. Send a runner to the village, to tell them that we're on alert but that any danger does not seem to be close."

"Aye, lord." Braf turned and ran back down the stairs.

"We do not stand to battle?" Felix asked, sounding confused.

"Not yet." Silvas tried to reassure his apprentice with a smile. "It seems that our opponent will try to weaken our resolve with this show."

"Since we aren't standing to battle," Maria injected, "we might as well go downstairs and see about the evening meal. You two have spent too many hours deep in your labors to go without sustenance."

Silvas nodded, more in response to the thought that Maria gave him than to her spoken words. Our people will need reassurance.

"Yes," he said absently, still preoccupied with the show of light and sound. "Another thing, Felix. We'll have to find you something in the way of wardrobe. You came through with nothing but what you are wearing, and our ways are not the ways of the White Brotherhood."

Felix looked down at his cassock and open sandals. "I do not project the image you did when first I saw you," he said.

"I'll have Koshka see to your needs," Maria said. "As he saw to mine so recently. We also need to find you quarters, a room alone where you may study and meditate in peace."

"If there is any peace to be had," Felix said. He took a deep breath and looked around once more. It was still too soon for him to really think of himself as Felix, wizard's apprentice. There was still too much of Brother Paul, the country vicar, within him.

"We'll have peace eventually," Silvas said, leading the way to the stairs. "Peace of one sort or the other."

"It is that other sort that worries my soul," Felix said.

"You've faced danger before," Maria reminded him. "You stood up well at Mecq, and we were arrayed against more enemies then than now."

"But then I didn't grasp how desperate the situation was. Now, perhaps, I have some idea."

They were all generally quiet during the descent to the great hall. Bosc ran on ahead of the others, to make the trek out to the mews to tell Bay what had transpired. Most of the folk of the Seven Towers, save for those on duty, were gathered in the great hall. Supper was being served, but not eaten with any great relish. The diners were more interested in hearing what their master might have to say.

Silvas did not immediately address them. He sat at the head table, with Maria at one side and the monk—that was the only way the common folk of the Glade had to think of him yet—on the other. They accepted platters and the beginnings of supper, food and wine, and ate with some show of animation. Their example had the calculated effect. If our master and mistress do not worry, then why should we? Though he concealed his interest, Silvas kept a close watch on the mood in the hall. He waited a full quarter hour before he finally stood and spoke.

"You've all seen the sky, I warrant," Silvas said when he had everyone's attention. "It has been more than passing strange the last days, and today it has become strangest of all. I've passed on what information I've learned about the veil that covers our valley. This latest change is still somewhat unclear, but I have no sense of imminent peril. We have enemies, but they do not seem to be marshaled for the attack.

"Maria and I will continue to watch over you, over all the folk of the valley. If danger does come, we stand here to defend the Seven Towers and its dependents. We have weathered other attacks, my friends. And Maria and I now possess much greater power.

"Be watchful, but do not be overly afraid." Silvas paused and looked at his companions, Maria and Felix.

"I have one introduction to make," Silvas said. "It matters not how you may know this man on my left from before. As of today his name is Felix. He is my apprentice in the way of the Trimagister. He is one of us from this day forward. The name by which he was formerly known is not to be spoken."

Eyes focused on Felix. Fewer than half of the people of the Seven Towers had seen him during his visit as Brother Paul, or had the opportunity to see him standing outside the church of Mecq.

—|—

Night refused to come to the valley of the Seven Towers. It had been late when Silvas and his companions descended the stairs to their supper. Even after they had lingered longer than customary at table, the sky had not changed noticeably, except in detail. Silvas and Maria went out to the mews, with Felix following close behind. Bay had yet to be apprised formally of the new apprentice, the first that Silvas had ever taken, though Maria had carried the news to him earlier.

Bay stood in the open doorway of his stall, watching the strange show in the heavens. When the three walkers came around the corner, trailed by Satin and Velvet, Bay turned his attention to Felix. He stared, as if attempting to ferret out the deepest secrets of the man. Bay felt no need to suppress his curiosity.

"You have returned to the Seven Towers," he said when the group reached him.

"By most extraordinary means," Felix said, knowing that the comment had been directed at him. "And with no lack of extraordinary experiences since. After the last night and day, a talking horse seems much more ordinary than it did in Mecq."

Bay rewarded him with a laughing snort. "You may well regret your choices, but I hope you do not. That would likely bode poorly for the rest of us as well."

"I share your hope most fervently," Felix said. "Though I'm not yet certain what I may be able to do to help achieve any better end."

"You've been watching the sky," Silvas said, watching Bay.

"I have," the horse admitted.

"Have you been able to learn anything about the phenomenon?"

"Such as who sent it or why? No. All I know of this sky is what I can see and hear, lights and martial music. It is an annoyance. I prefer it as an annoyance rather than as the accompaniment to active assault. But I would prefer even more to have the show end peaceably."

"As would I," Silvas said. "If you happen upon an idea to insure that outcome, I would be happy to hear it."

"With your new resources, you come to me?"

"As I always have, Bay."

"Yes. I've not yet heard the full tale of what happened to you last night when you so unceremoniously disappeared."

"I think I'm not yet ready to speak of that," Silvas said. "Save only that the three of us confronted Satan in his lair."

"And survived," Maria added unnecessarily.

"As I can see," Bay said. "That is no minor feat even for gods."

"The Devil's power is greater than that of any of the gods in the Shining City," Silvas said. "But now, other things. If we must speak of this, let it only be at great need—or perhaps in some distant future, under skies that are clear and free of any threat."

"As you will. Have you decided how to meet this current threat?"

"Other than by waiting, no. There seems little to do but watch and study. Unless some key appears..." Silvas shrugged.

"How is Camiss faring?" Maria asked, looking toward the white mare in a stall somewhat down the row from Bay.

"The sky frightens her, but she does not panic," Bay said, also looking at the new mare. "We will produce wondrous foals, if we have time for such pursuits."

Maria looked startled. Silvas laughed.

"So now we learn your true motive in seeking her out," he said.

"Only a minor consideration," Bay said. "I sought truly for a fitting mount for Maria."

Silvas, Maria, and Felix remained in the courtyard awhile longer, watching the sky and conversing only a little. Maria finally directed the others back into the keep.

"We'll not accomplish anything out here. And Felix must be ready to drop for lack of sleep."

Felix was stifling a yawn when she spoke. Her words made him close his mouth quickly, but not for long. The yawn would not be denied.

"It's truth, my lady. I scarcely remember when I last slept," he said.

"Then we'll see to your arrangements immediately," Maria said. "Unless enemies pour out of this sky, you'll sleep through until you've brought your sleep account up to date. Even your studies need to wait for that." She glanced sharply at Silvas, who nodded.

"You've already absorbed as much of the way in one day as I did in my first year at Auroreus's knee," Silvas said. "You've accomplished much."

They returned to the keep. While Maria saw to Felix's comfort, Silvas climbed to the library and stared at the collection held there. He found that he no longer needed to take a book or scroll in hand and actually open it. By casting his eyes on the proper volume, he could recall the contents instantly, laid out as plainly in his mind as on the paper. He scanned dozens of tracts, scores of them, but found nothing that seemed to hold any information for the current situation.

Maria eventually joined him. "I put Felix in the northeast room on the floor above our apartments. Koshka will have new garb ready for him in the morning, or whatever passes for morning tomorrow. Your new apprentice was asleep almost before I could take my leave. He was very nearly asleep on his feet. He's only mortal, and not yet an adept of the Trimagister. He has limits, and came very close to them today."

"I will remember," Silvas said.

"I think it's time that we sleep as well," Maria said. "Perhaps we don't need that retreat in the same way as Felix, but it can do no harm, and may bring some good. We'll still know if there is danger."

"I never asked. How did you know that I was in trouble last night? I couldn't touch your mind the way we can otherwise."

"I don't know the how of it," Maria said, her voice sinking to an almost inaudible whisper. "I simply knew, and I knew what I had to do."

"And did it promptly." Silvas kissed her on the forehead.

"It would have been difficult not to act. Where the right hand goes, the left must follow."

Silvas turned Maria toward the door and put his arm around her shoulders. "We'll sleep," he said, "but not at once."

—|—

There was a sundial in the rear courtyard of the Seven Towers, on the far side from the mews. In the days before England was ripped from Europe and turned to its present orientation, that sundial had never been in shadow. Since that disruption, the sundial had not yet been moved to a location that would give it utility throughout the hours of sunlight. Under the madness of the current sky, a sundial would have been useless in any event. The sun might still be shining beyond the veil, but the colors and lights of the dome over the valley of the Seven Towers kept any hint of it from touching the sundial. But other means of timekeeping were also employed in the Glade. The sentries kept their watches by the turning of an hourglass, and by the burning of metered candles. The sand had to be turned on the hour. Each candle burned for two hours. The count of candles burned marked the days.

Six candles burned from start to end in the time that Silvas and Maria slept. Night never came to the valley. For a time, the colors in the sky dimmed, but that merely made the sky seem more oppressive. There was still light. The hues were simply bolder, more intense.

Somewhat before the normal time of dawn, a group of villagers came up the road to the castle. The drawbridge was up, but the narrow stone causeway leading to the postern was always available, and that smaller gate was open, though guarded by a full squad of warrior gurnetz. The sentries admitted the folk from the village, and sent to Braf for instructions.

"We've come to ask Lord Silvas about this angry sky," one of the villagers said when Braf came to the postern. "There's been no night, and this is no proper morning."

"It's strange," Braf agreed. "Yet Lord Silvas saw no peril. He and his lady retired for the night and have not yet risen. Is that not enough to show that there's no danger? I'll tell him of your concern when he wakes."

"But what should we do?"

Braf shrugged. "What you would do any other morning, no doubt."

The villagers hesitated for some minutes more, asking the same questions in new, or more intense, forms, but Braf had no additional answers, and he would not wake Silvas to ask for confirmation. The villagers could do nothing but return to their cottages and waiting neighbors.

"Are they truly sleeping?" one of the gate guards asked after the villagers had gone.

"As far as I know." Braf growled heavily under the words. "See to your duties."

Braf went back to the main guardroom, then into the keep. Breakfast was being prepared, but few had yet come for their morning meal. After a moment, Braf went up to where Koshka slept, in a small room on the same floor as Silvas and Maria. Braf opened the door to Koshka's room and looked in, but Koshka seemed deep in sleep.

If he's asleep, then they must be asleep as well, Braf thought. He closed the door again, as silently as he could, and went back to his duties.

—|—

The sun should have been nearly at the zenith by the time that Silvas and Maria emerged from their rooms and descended to the great hall. Felix was still sleeping, and Maria had counseled that Silvas not disturb his apprentice until he woke on his own.

Braf was prowling around the great hall. He had spent most of the last three watches there, pacing, growling at anyone who came close.

"Folks have been up from the village, lord," Braf said when he could finally report to his master. "Three different lots of them, all frightened of this sky and wanting you to tell them that there's naught to fear."

"We'll go to the village before long, Braf," Silvas said. "Perhaps we should have gone there last night."

"No," Maria said. "The hours of rest have done more good than harm. There is time for this yet."

"So it seems," Silvas said. "Send a messenger to the reeve, that I will be there later, and that I detect no immediate menace in this sky."

"We'll eat first, and see what there is to be seen, then we'll ride to the village," Maria said. Braf looked from her to Silvas, as if for confirmation.

"Maria's voice is my own," Silvas said sternly. "In all that matters, we are one."

"Aye, my lord," Braf said. "I'll send the rider straightaway."

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Silvas and Maria had nearly finished their meal before Felix came down to the great hall. Clad now in a dark green tunic over loose gray trousers and doeskin shoes, he looked a different man, as befitted one with a new name and trade. But the new clothing accentuated his gaunt appearance.

"Did you sleep well?" Maria asked.

"Good morning, or afternoon, Lady Maria, Lord Silvas. Yes, I slept well—long, deep, and without dreams." Felix took his place at the table. "Thankfully, without dreams. I fear they would have been horrifying nightmares had they come."

"No one is master of his dreams," Silvas said.

"Not even you?" Felix asked.

"Not even us," Silvas said. "But you'll learn to use your dreams, no matter how much terror you find in them. They can be a most useful window into the spirit and into the hidden places of your mind."

"I hope I can recall that when the terrors of the night come," Felix said.

"You will, before your training has gone much farther," Silvas promised.

"We'll have to oversee your feeding, though," Maria said. "You're no longer a mendicant. You have need of bulk to your body now. The demands of wizardry are considerable. Fasting is no virtue in your new calling."

Felix looked down at his gaunt form. "That much will, at least, be pleasant work."

The three of them kept their talk light. Maria and Silvas had finished eating, but kept Felix company as he ate. Felix was unaware of the second level of conversation going on, the direct mind link between his companions. Even while they talked, Silvas and Maria wandered freely around the perimeter of the valley in the spirit. They observed the people in the village, felt the nervousness among them. Silvas and Maria also traveled the corridors of their minds, looking for information and weapons, comparing impressions of what they found, speculating on what else there might be that would help them defend themselves, and all of the people who depended on them.

After a time, Felix leaned back. "I've eaten all I can."

Maria smiled. "It will do, for now, but I think you'll need to eat this much three times a day for many weeks before you properly fill out your clothing."

"Wouldn't it be easier to find smaller clothes?" Felix asked, sounding almost timid. Maria and Silvas both laughed.

"Easier, but not better," Silvas said. "Maria is right. Bulk will ease some aspects of your work. Asceticism is no virtue to a wizard."

"Now, we have our flock to see to," Maria said, rising from her chair. "We need to reassure the people of the village that this show in the sky is no dire threat."

"Your flock," Felix said, rising as soon as Maria did.

"Our flock," Silvas said. "In that, our role is not so different from the one you have known. We, too, have many people under our care."

"Do they have a priest?"

"The village has a church, but it's been many years since it has had a priest. From time to time, a wandering friar passes through, or even stays for a time. The Archbishop of York has always known of our situation." Silvas glanced at Maria, then added, "Now that the village has been hidden and history changed, even the archbishop may no longer know about the Seven Towers."

"Is it truly possible that even knowledge of this place may be wiped from the minds of men?" Felix asked.

"Very possible," Silvas said.

"I remembered you, and the Glade. I recalled you with great clarity."

"But you had been within the Seven Towers, and had sat in Council with me," Silvas said. "You were changed by that contact, and by the battle in which we stood together."

The three of them left the great hall, Felix following without asking. When they approached the mews, Bay and Camiss were standing in front of their stalls, close to each other, both saddled and harnessed. Bosc was still adjusting the girth on Camiss's saddle.

"We'll need a horse for Felix, as well," Silvas said. "We're going to the village."

Bosc looked surprised. Silvas laughed. "I've finally caught you out. You always anticipate me."

"I'll see to't at once, lord," Bosc said.

"I suppose I'll have to get used to riding," Felix said with a sigh. "While my feet may rejoice, my, ah, posterior will not."

"Another good reason to put meat on those bones," Maria said.

"What of my disappearance from the chapter house at St. Ives?" Felix asked. "Will Bishop Egbert and the others know that I have gone, or will they have forgotten about me?"

"When we have time, I'll contact Bishop Egbert and explain what has happened," Silvas said. "He will remember, if he doesn't now. After all, he sat in Council with us, and stood in battle, as did you."

Bosc did not take long to prepare a horse, a gentle gray mare, for Felix. Bosc held the horse's bridle while Felix mounted awkwardly.

"Her name's Amelie," Bosc said. "She'll give you the softest ride of any here save Lord Bay."

"Thank you, Bosc," Felix said. "I'll try not to be a burden to her."

Maria mounted Camiss before Silvas had a chance to help her. So Silvas mounted Bay, and they started across the courtyard to the gate. The drawbridge had been lowered earlier to mark the start of a new "day"—although the sky did not mark the morning as it should have.

Once aboard Amelie, Felix stared up into the sky. During the walk out from the keep, he had avoided looking up, feeling oppressed by the unnaturalness of this sky—compared to the exhilarating pastel shades that the sky had held before. The strongly colored lights of the sky had turned the stones of the courtyard and castle strange colors. Even shadows seemed oddly tinted. The sky itself continued to swirl, like eddies in a stream. It seethed and turned around and in on itself, showing far too much texture for air. It might almost have been a thick batter for baking.

Felix's stomach started to complain, a reaction to the vista, and he lowered his eyes again.

"I long to see a normal sky," he said as the horses passed through the gate and started across the drawbridge.

"So do I," Maria said. "But for the present, that sky is as much our ally as our enemy. We may not fully control it, but neither does the foe who put it there in the first place."

Bay held his pace to a slow walk. There was no urgency to this ride, and the slower they traveled, the less time they would have to wait for the villagers to gather. The road from castle to village was open. People in the fields would see the procession and hurry to the crossroads to meet it.

"What is the name of the church here?" Felix asked.

The question surprised Silvas, but he answered quickly. "St. John's." Then, after a hesitation, he added. "I don't truly know whether or not it's ever been properly consecrated, but it has been used by enough priests and monks over the centuries."

"You maintain the church?"

"We do," Silvas said. "Though I warrant it's been used more as meeting hall than church. The people here are good, but they're not as regularly churched as most. They've seen too much of the wizard's path to be sedate members of a church flock."

When the three of them reached the crossroads, nearly a hundred people had already gathered, and more were approaching. Humans, gurnetz, and esperia mingled freely. In the valley of the Seven Towers, the qualities that the three races shared were of far more importance than the visible differences among them.

"We'll go to the church," Silvas announced, pitching his voice so that it carried to those who had not yet reached the junction without being uncomfortably loud to those who were nearest him. "My apprentice, Felix here, has taken orders in the White Brotherhood."

The crowd parted to let the riders through, then closed in behind them to follow. Bay kept his pace slow enough that the walkers had no difficulty keeping up. Those people who were still coming in from the fields changed course, heading toward the church. Some few managed to reach it before the riders did.

Maria and Felix tied their horses to a tree near the corner of the church. Bay moved to a point near the entrance. Silvas paused beside the door to let Felix enter first.

Just inside the doorway, Felix knelt and crossed himself. Then he walked the length of the church to the altar. This church was little larger than the church in Mecq, and certainly no fancier. Prayers of habit came to Felix's mind. He did not try to put them aside. He knelt again before the altar, then stood and turned. Silvas and Maria were flanking him, and the people of the village were still filing in.

"With your permission?" Felix asked softly, turning to Silvas when it appeared that everyone had arrived. Bay had moved to stand in the doorway, looking in, a daunting obstacle to any late arrivals.

Silvas nodded, sensing easily what Felix intended.

Felix raised his right hand and made the sign of the cross over the villagers while he spoke the traditional words of the blessing. Some few of the villagers, humans only, went down on one knee to receive the blessing, then crossed themselves. Most of the villagers remained standing, though nearly all at least lowered their gaze until Felix finished.

"I know that some of you are worried about the strange show in the sky," Silvas said when Felix took a step back and to the side. "You're troubled, even frightened." The folk of this valley were not so easily panicked as those of many other places. Silvas had been their protector for more generations than they could count. They were more knowledgeable than most peasants—or lords. Their special circumstances guaranteed that. But they were still simple people of the land.

"There may be danger ahead, but it has not arrived. While we have time, let me tell you plainly what has happened."

Silvas talked. He told the people much of what had happened, going back over some things that they had already heard, at least secondhand, and carrying the story right up to that moment. He did not tell them everything. He passed over his confrontation with Satan almost entirely, without even naming that Foe explicitly. Silvas seemed to talk in a slow, conversational manner, but that was deceptive. There was a lot to say, and he did not want to waste the rest of the day in saying it, so he cupped time in his hand while he spoke. The two hours of his discourse actually cost less than a half hour of real time, but only Maria was aware of what he was doing.

By the time that Silvas finished, even Felix could easily detect a growing anger among the villagers.

"How dare the gods use us this way!" March the miller said. "For all they owe you?"

"These gods dare anything," Silvas replied. "More may come. At the moment, though, they seem content to torture us with this sky and the battle music that fills it."

"We'll stand ready to meet them should they come," March said, and there was a general shout from the rest. "Tell us what we should do, lord."

"If fortune smiles on you, you may have no need to stand to arms, but I know I can depend on you even for that should it indeed be needed."

After the meeting ended, Silvas was deeply silent through most of the ride back to the Glade—silent in a way that imposed silence on the others. They were near the drawbridge before Silvas finally broke the silence.

"They will fight, if needs be. They may die, but they won't falter." Silently, Silvas grieved for the many who might actually die.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Once more, night did not come to the valley of the Seven Towers. Ruddy clouds boiled across the sky in ferocious turbulence. The rainbow veil deepened into darker shades that seemed almost to reflect hot embers from beyond. But there was still light.

Inside the Glade, Silvas returned to coaching Felix. Silvas brought the former monk inside the pentagram and activated it, guiding him through the spells that turned it on and off, and protected its occupants. While the pentagram was active, Silvas touched Felix's eyes and gave him the wizard's gift of telesight, along with the warning that Auroreus had not given him. "Do not attempt to look directly at the sun or a star with this vision. It could burn the eyes completely out of your head."

While Silvas and Felix were in the pentagram, Maria watched from one of the protected circles near the wall in the workshop. Satin and Velvet flanked her, in their own circles. The cats were more accustomed to observing this sort of exercise than Maria was. Maria watched intently, both with physical eyes and with the penetrating sense of her shared divinity, linking directly with Silvas while also lightly touching Felix's mind. Her link to Silvas was not affected in the least by the supposed barriers of the pentagram or the traditional spells that Silvas erected to make it a safe haven.

Silvas concentrated exclusively on what he was doing. With the magic of the pentagram raised, he dared not let his thoughts wander. Not only his own safety was at risk, but that of his new apprentice. Felix did not yet have the ability to defend himself in the greater vulnerability of an active pentagram. It was not a long session. Silvas was not ready to involve Felix in anything particularly lengthy, or more dangerous than the constant danger of dealing with magical forces.

"Be very cautious with your first uses of telesight," Silvas cautioned after they came out of the pentagram. "I once tried to look into a star with it, when I was young and new to the gift. Only Auroreus's quick intervention kept me from blindness. At that time, he told me, 'Some visions are denied even to the gods.' "

"Have you thought to test that adage since you became one of them?" Felix asked.

"Not with telesight," Silvas said. "I would attempt it even now only at the most dire need. Sufficient are the challenges I find demanding my attention. I won't seek out superfluous ones."

The three of them descended to the great hall for the evening meal. There seemed to be much less tension at this meal than at the last several. The strangely intimidating sky remained an annoyance to the people who lived under it, but the longer that sky continued as it was without loosing danger on the valley, the less it would be regarded as a fearsome thing. The mood of the people of the Seven Towers was not as light as it had customarily been in the days before Silvas found himself drawn into the feuds of the gods, but the recent cares and sorrows of the Glade were beginning to lift, if only a little.

It might be a long time, indeed, before the common folk of the Seven Towers put Carillia out of their thoughts, but Maria showed the same sort of warm personal touch that had always marked Carillia. The staff had already accepted her as a proper mistress for the castle. Those who had cause to be close to her most were loudest in their praises of her. Maria took deep interest in all of them, and in their well-being. She never misspoke a name, or forgot to ask after family members.

Silvas showed no great cares at table. He conversed casually with Maria and Felix, and found time to speak with others in the hall now and then. If the three at the head table showed no concern over the peculiar sky that sat over the valley, most of their dependents were willing, even eager, to accept that reassurance.

But the servants of the Seven Towers could not eavesdrop on the silent conversations between Silvas and Maria. Those were not nearly as carefree as their audible words and visible expressions, though they went on simultaneously with them.

We have to do more, Maria told Silvas. We can carry our people for now, but the longer the show of sky and music continues, the more it will wear on everyone.

I know, Silvas replied. I've been searching for an alternative.

As have I. They had been looking together as well as separately. Splitting their awareness many ways came so naturally that they scarcely thought of how unusual they would have considered it before.

The only way I see that seems to offer any hope of resolution also leads us into greater danger. Silvas shared the image of that path with Maria. She nodded, a gesture that might have been interpreted by others as a response to a vocal comment that Felix made at just the right moment.

That's what we have to do, then. Simply initiating another conversation with Mikel hardly seems likely to tell us anything. By now, he might be so stuporous that he wouldn't remember his own name.

In the morning then, Silvas suggested. If this show hasn't abated by then, we'll ride back to the Shining City.

Just the two of us, not a whole crowd, Maria amended.

—|—

After the three of them left the great hall, Silvas told Felix that he and Maria would be gone for at least part of the next day, and perhaps longer.

"Get a good sleep tonight and spend tomorrow going over what I've taught you, in your mind. Don't try anything more active than the use of your telesight, and be careful at that. You might spend some time with Dei et Deae." Silvas smiled. "That's the sort of thing Auroreus always told me when he was going to be busy during my apprenticeship. But don't take every minute to your studies. Look around the Glade and the valley. Get to know our people. Let them get to know you. Tomorrow may be your only day of rest for a long time."

When they were finally alone in their chambers, Silvas and Maria immediately started preparing for bed, and for sleep. For a time, each retreated into privacy, but when they met in bed, they rushed to the link that was always there and reveled in it.

Sleep did come, in time.

Outside, the angry sky show continued. Night did not come to the Seven Towers.

—|—

They experienced no difficulty in opening up the direct boulevard to the Shining City. Shortly after what should have been dawn, Silvas and Maria mounted their horses and rode out of the Seven Towers. In the gateway, they pictured the road in their minds and called it back into being. Bay and Camiss stepped out onto the road and moved along at a moderate walk. The road no longer glowed, but otherwise it remained as they had first seen it.

"You know, you're simply inviting trouble," Bay said once they were some distance from the walls of the Glade. "Your enemies will see this foray as an affront, a challenge."

"We have to do something, Bay," Silvas said. "If you have an alternative to offer, I'll be happy to entertain any notion."

Bay hesitated before he said, "No alternative save to do nothing but wait and prepare, but this still makes me uneasy."

"It makes us uneasy as well, Bay," Maria said. "But the longer we permit the mockery of the sky to continue, the more difficult the final resolution may prove."

The veil was no barrier at all on the boulevard. Riders and horses were all aware of it, could feel it as they penetrated the curtain, but they went through it without difficulty.

"It will pose as little problem to anyone riding in on it," Bay said.

"I'm not so certain," Silvas replied. "Maria and I strengthened it to purpose. Our work is no barrier to us, or to anyone with us. It wasn't meant to do that."

"And the work that was overlaid on yours?" Bay asked.

"Seems so far limited to the colors of the sky and the battle music," Silvas said.

The sky beyond the veil was normal, with a few white clouds showing in a blue sky. The sun was a couple of diameters above the eastern horizon. Silvas and Maria took a moment to look up into the pale blue sky and revel in the sight. Once the riders got a distance from the veil, they could look back and see the rainbow dome that concealed the valley of the Seven Towers. From the road to the Shining City, that dome did not seem so turbulent and angry, and the valley was not hidden so thoroughly that no trace of its existence could be found. The dome sat like a gigantic bubble over the terrain.

"It hides us from mortals, but not from the gods," Bay commented. "They don't want to forget us so easily, perhaps."

Once away from the dome, Bay allowed his pace to increase a little, being careful not to overtax Camiss. Bay chose the time to stop for a rest. Silvas and Maria dismounted. Camiss wandered to the edge of the road to crop a little of the rich green grass that grew right up to the border of the lane.

"Have you decided what you'll do when we reach the Shining City?" Bay asked. "Do we return to the palace of Mikel?"

"Not immediately, at least," Silvas said. "Maria and I have in mind to find an inn in the outer city, one with some pretentions of class. We'll simply take rooms and wait for a time, travelers come to see what the Shining City has to offer." He made it sound light, but without any attempt to deceive Bay. After centuries together, Silvas would not try that. He doubted that he could deceive Bay, at least for long.

"To see who comes to call?" Bay asked.

"If anyone. Or to hear the gossip, whatever it might be."

"If any will talk around you," Bay said.

"I think they'll talk. The folk of the outer city may well be curious, and in seeking to learn about us, they'll talk to us."

After the rest, Bay interspersed comments through the rest of the ride, until they reached the drawbridge that spanned the moat that surrounded the Shining City. When Bay went too long without speaking, Maria did. Silvas was glad for the interruptions. Riding in silence to the Shining City brought back memories of Carillia, and the way she had made this journey in the back of a wagon so recently. Those memories quickly became painful.

"We'll stop to ask for directions to an inn," Silvas told Bay as they moved onto the drawbridge. Once across the bridge and through the gate, Bay stopped close to one of the gate guards.

"We're seeking one of the better inns," Silvas told the man. "Could you help us?"

"Aye, my lord," the soldier said after a quick appraisal of Silvas and Maria. He gave precise directions to a place not overly distant from the gate. "The sign of the Eye."

"Thank you." Silvas flipped the soldier a small gold coin. The sentry made the coin disappear with the ease of a court magician.

"The sign of the Eye," Maria said after they had crossed the plaza that faced the main gate of the Shining City. "How appropriate."

"Appropriate for us, or for our enemies?" Bay asked.

Neither Maria nor Silvas attempted to answer that question.

"You asked before if I had any alternative to offer to this expedition," Bay said after letting enough time pass to accent the lack of an answer to his question. "I still don't have an alternative, but I do have a suggestion on how to improve on what you said you intend to do with this visit. When we reach this inn, or when you gather a sufficient audience, announce who you are and what you have done, loudly, and ask for recruits. There are plenty of unattached mercenaries to be found here, and you should have no difficulty attaching many of them to you."

That idea had not occurred to Silvas, but he saw the potential. "That will certainly draw notice from the Citadel."

"Which is what you want to do, isn't it?"

"Among other things," Silvas conceded.

The Inn of the Eye was a magnificent structure, covering nearly half the area that the Seven Towers did. An extensive courtyard was enclosed by walls twenty feet high and six feet thick. The gateway was large enough to accommodate two wide drays at once. The gates themselves stood open and showed little evidence that they had ever been closed. The stables and other outbuildings were all of stone, and the inn itself was a three-story stone structure that looked as if it might comfortably house a hundred travelers.

Their arrival did not go unnoticed. Two stable boys ran out to take the reins of the horses—such large and magnificent steeds did not overawe these handlers; there were many such animals in the land of the gods. Other people came out of the main building to watch. It was as if the guests and staff of the inn had been warned that important personages were coming. Nearly two dozen men, perhaps not all merely mortal, came out of the barroom, some with tankards in hand.

Silvas dismounted and helped Maria down from Camiss. Before the stable boys led the horses off, another servant was there to carry the saddle packs into the inn ahead of Silvas and Maria.

"Bay and Camiss require the best you have to offer," Silvas told the stable boys.

"Aye, lord," one replied. "Always the best at the Eye."

"We expect nothing less," Silvas said, and both of the lads nodded quickly.

Is this the pose we want to strike? Maria asked.

To be quickly modified once we establish ourselves here, Silvas replied.

They stopped thirty feet from the door to the inn and looked around. A few more men had come outside. Most of the Eye's patrons looked to be military, even those who wore no arms at the moment. The look was unmistakable to a practiced eye, and Silvas had known that look for centuries.

As well now as later, Silvas warned Maria. Then he spoke to the men who had come out to witness their arrival.

"You may have heard my name. I am Silvas, who destroyed the Blue Rose and four of its gods. I seek stout warriors. Who will join me?"

Silvas felt self-conscious making that plea, though he admitted to himself that it was perhaps the best move that he and Maria could make at present. When he finished, there was relative quiet for a moment. No one immediately screamed to enter Silvas's service, but many of the men looked around at the others in the crowd.

"Spread the word," Silvas said. "I have need of many of you."

Two men came forward and identified themselves as Edwin and Nolwin, brothers. "Our father be a demigod, no longer in service to anyone here," Nolwin said. "We betake much of his strength."

"We'll serve you well an' true, Lord Silvas," his brother added.

"I accept you willingly," Silvas replied. "And your father as well, should he care to join us."

"He be far off from this place," Nolwin said, "or belike he would."

After that, there were others eager to step forward. Silvas raised a hand. "Wait. We'll go inside where we may be comfortable while we speak. If any of you have friends you wish to tell about my offer, go and fetch them. We'll be here for such time as we require."

There was magic to the Inn of the Eye, as there was to nearly every such establishment in the Shining City. The torches that provided light did not smoke, and even a mortal could pass his hand through their flames without being burned. The tables and floor were clean and well made. The walls were painted with murals of such texture and vividness that the scenes they showed seemed almost alive. To succeed in a city such as this, a publican had to offer quality, and difference.

The landlord himself came to wait on Silvas and Maria, seating them at the best table in the public room.

"How may I serve you, Lord Silvas?" the landlord asked.

"A room, care for our horses, and—at the moment—something light to eat and a good wine."

"Yes, my lord, instantly." He clapped his hands, and a serving girl ran off to get food and wine. "May I ask how long you will grace us with your company?"

"Until we complete our business here, I believe," Silvas said, gently, not as a rebuke. "For now, I see a lot of thirsty men. They need ale, or wine, as they will." Silvas pulled several gold coins from his purse and spread them on the table.

There was quite a commotion for several minutes as the landlord and his helpers moved to fill Silvas's orders—and every tankard and goblet in the room. While that was going on, Silvas took two small silver coins from his purse and gave one to each of the brothers who had come forward outside. The obverse of the coins bore the likeness of Silvas and Maria, facing each other. The portraits were so perfect that it was impossible to miss who the faces belonged to. The reverse of the coins showed the Seven Towers. Silvas had just called those coins into being, but the silver in them was pure.

"This is the mark that you have entered my service," Silvas told the brothers.

Before Silvas and Maria left the public room of the inn to see their quarters on the floor above, Silvas had dispensed seven more of the coins, and made arrangements for all who took his service to be housed at the Eye at his expense.

"May I see one of those coins?" Maria asked when they were alone in their room.

Silvas reached into his purse and pulled out a coin without looking. This one was gold, but it bore the same devices as the silver coins. This coin was set in a golden ring, hanging from a delicate chain of the same metal. Silvas handed the necklace to Maria, and after she had examined the coin closely, he took it back and hung it around her neck.

"A token," Silvas said. He kissed her forehead gently.

"I think my father would have sold his soul gladly for the gift of being able to create his own coinage like that," Maria said. "Perhaps it is well he was never offered the temptation."

—|—

Before night fell in the Shining City—it came normally there, in its own good time, as it had ceased to do in the valley of the Seven Towers—Silvas and Maria had accepted another score of volunteers into their service. Very few of these men did not show the trace of divine, or demi-divine, ancestry, though in most the ancestry was so distant that it gave the men little more than great strength and endurance, and the potential for extended lifetimes. One of the volunteers, in particular, touched Silvas. He was as tall as Silvas, and heavily built—perhaps thirty pounds heavier than the wizard. Though he wore neither arms nor armor, he looked every inch the warrior, strongly muscled and hard. His hair was black and his complexion swarthy, but his eyes were a pale blue. Though he looked to be in his prime, perhaps less than thirty, there was great age in those eyes. He radiated power clearly, even before Silvas and Maria looked closely into him. He was obviously different from any of the others who had taken Silvas's coins.

"I am known as Josephus," he said when he first approached them. "I knew the lady Carillia before she forsook this city for you, my lord. I was the commander of her palace guard, made a demigod for loyal service in the days when Marcus Aurelius was emperor in Rome. I can feel her presence in you and in your lady. The news of her gift to you has traveled widely in the Shining City. Had you not come, I would have sought you out. That was why I returned to this city. If you will have me, I will serve you both as faithfully as I served her."

For a moment, neither Silvas nor Maria responded. They looked at Josephus, and touched the aura of power he wore. He opened himself to them without question or reserve, so that they could see the truth of what he had told them. Josephus had not taken part in the Battle of Mecq. After serving Carillia, he had always spurned serving any of her siblings.

"We accept the honor of your service and welcome you with great respect," Silvas said finally, his voice subdued. He gestured to a chair and waited until Josephus had seated himself before he continued. "You do realize the danger in which you place yourself?"

"I do," Josephus said. "The currents are easy to feel. But I would rather face that danger in your company than in the company of those who hate you. I would not stand apart from this fray as I have from so many others. Command me as you wish."

"I want to add my own welcome to that of Silvas," Maria said. "You are obviously a warrior of the highest ability, yet I detect a gentle side to you as well."

"When the times permit, my lady," Josephus said with a barely detectable bow in her direction. "I enjoy those moments as I may."

"Then let us hope that you will have many of those moments in our service."

"Thank you, my lady."

Silvas took the time then to apprise Josephus fully of the current situation, with as much background as he thought appropriate. He was able to do that in only a few minutes, combining carefully chosen words with a direct connection that was open only as long as both of them accepted it—unlike the routine link between Silvas and Maria.

"This matter of the sky sounds like the work of Gioia, perhaps," Josephus said once he had absorbed everything that Silvas had to tell and show him. "She delights in macabre games, though I've never heard of another instance quite like this. I might be wrong, though. Some of the other gods could have devised this manner of amusement. But it certainly doesn't sound to be the kind of thing that Barreth might do. He has always been direct in action, more so than any of his brothers and sisters—those who survive, at any rate."

"Take a room here in the inn," Silvas said after a moment's reflection. "We'll be staying here to gather more men and to give our enemies a chance to show themselves."

"I've already taken a room, my lord, right next to yours."

Silvas spent most of the late afternoon and evening in the public room of the inn, purposely making himself easily available to anyone who might wish to see him. At times, Maria sat with him, but mostly she spent the time in their room on the floor above, exploring the Shining City in privacy, casting her mind out to wander the streets and plazas, observing the people and occasionally eavesdropping on their conversations. She skirted the Citadel, though, not desiring to intrude there yet. The link between her and Silvas remained fully open, so she was there to see every new recruit through his eyes, to hear every interview, and to offer her comments. And Silvas shared her explorations as well.

As the evening grew late and people started to wander off to sleep, Silvas called the landlord over.

"If more men come seeking me after I retire for the night, give them lodging, as well as whatever food and drink they require, and tell them that I will see them in the morning." He pulled out several gold coins, each with the same devices as the silver coins he had given his new soldiers, and gave them to the landlord. "If that doesn't even the final tally, tell me in the morning and I'll complete it."

"Aye, my lord," the landlord said, bowing repeatedly and avoiding any mention that Silvas had already paid him enough to take over the entire inn for several days.

A few minutes later, Silvas went upstairs. Maria and he went to bed and nestled together, but they did not sleep easily in the Shining City. Their enemies, whoever they were, were too close. In the morning, when they went down to breakfast, not long after dawn, they found that three more mercenaries had come late during the night to offer their service. Silvas interviewed them while they ate, and accepted each.

A few minutes later, a messenger in familiar livery entered the inn and came over to Silvas.

"My master, Lord Mikel, understood that you were in the Shining City. He bade me tell you that you should come to his home immediately if you wish to talk to him before, as he put it, it is too late."

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Silvas and Maria exchanged a glance that held both concern and relief. It's come at last. Silvas nodded to the messenger.

"Tell your master that we'll come as soon as we may."

"At once." The messenger's bow was barely enough to avoid being openly insulting. He left quickly, without a look back.

"He didn't send his son Argus to greet us this time," Maria noted.

Silvas shook his head without saying anything.

Josephus came over to their table as soon as the messenger was out of the public room. Most of the mercenaries Silvas had hired were in the room, finishing their breakfasts. The rest were out in the courtyard, or in the stables seeing to their horses.

"You'll really go to him, lord?" Josephus asked.

"That is one of the reasons we came here," Silvas replied. "We need to stir some activity. I served Mikel for many centuries, and Maria and I came to our current station because of that service, as well as because of Carillia. We still hope for help from Mikel, for intelligence of our enemies at least. In any case, we need to force some response."

"That response might well be a massive attack," Josephus cautioned. "Let me gather your men. We'll ride as your guard of honor, if nothing occurs."

Silvas and Maria stared at each other for a moment, silently debating Josephus's suggestion. Finally, Silvas shook his head and looked up at the soldier demigod again.

"No, we dare not ride into the Citadel armed as for war. However, outside the Citadel, it would not be inappropriate to have defenders near at hand, not riding with us, but close."

"I think that our enemies will not attack us within the Citadel," Maria said.

"I pray you are right, my lady," Josephus said. He had a warm smile that radiated assurance and competence, an open face that belied his military career.

"Whenever an attack does come, Josephus, we will rely on you for advice, as well as the strength of your arms," Silvas said. "Maria and I are new to our station. There may be much that you have learned that we have yet to discover."

"Aye, my lord. I had already considered that possibility. Anything I have is yours."

"We'll give the messenger a few minutes to wend his way toward his master. Then Maria and I will get our horses and follow, rather leisurely, I think. We don't want to arrive too closely on the heels of the messenger."

"I'll gather your people, and we'll be ready to trail along after you," Josephus said. "And I'd best get started immediately."

—|—

There were more people visible in the Shining City than there had been on Silvas and Maria's previous visit. But the streets were wide and the plazas immense, so even with crowds about, there was never any difficulty of riding through traffic. Josephus and the rest of the newly hired mercenaries never came closer than a hundred yards. They moved in several small groups, as if to avoid presenting the image of a unified force. Silvas and Maria frequently caught glimpses of the armed men, though, deployed as if they were flankers to a main column.

It doesn't matter whether or not anyone notices that they are with us, they decided early in the ride.

Bay refrained from any comment on the wisdom of this excursion into the Citadel. He spoke very little during the ride, but that was only from a lack of things he desired to say. He remained as vigilant as Maria and Silvas, looking from side to side, keeping a half pace ahead of Camiss so that he could see easily to that side as well.

Silvas and Maria took closer notice of their surroundings during this ride to the Citadel than they had on their first. They reached out with their minds through overlapping circles, cautiously feeling for any imminent threat on any side. With heightened awareness, they could clearly see the auras of power surrounding those of divine ancestry in the crowds. They did not probe those auras closely, though, not wishing to draw undue attention to their surveillance.

"If it were not for the animosity we face, it might be pleasant to make an extended visit to this city some other time," Maria suggested after they had covered half of the distance to the gate leading into the Citadel. "There must be an infinity of things to see and do here."

"More than you imagine," Bay offered. "The decadence of this place would startle you."

It was the last comment that Bay offered until they were inside the Citadel, almost to Mikel's fantastic palace.

"Don't remain overlong with Mikel," he cautioned. "The longer we're gone, the more agitated Josephus and the others will become."

"I have no desire to prolong this interview beyond its needs," Silvas said. "Nor do I wish to end it prematurely if it might lead to a peaceful solution to our difficulties."

"There will be no peaceful solution," Bay said with as much authority as he put to purely factual observations on other occasions. "These gods have no desire for any peace that leaves the two of you alive as a reminder of their inadequacies."

"We've not yet given up all hope," Maria said. "You may be right, but we will not assume that until we are forced to."

"That will come soon enough," Bay said. Despite her attempt at optimism, Maria did not doubt what he said.

Mikel's messenger had obviously made it home in time to warn his master and prepare a welcome for Silvas and Maria. As soon as they rode through the main gate of Mikel's estate, servants came out of the palace to take their horses. By the time they reached the steps, Argus mac Mikel was there to greet them and lead them inside for the meeting with his father.

Mikel waited for Silvas and Maria in the same room where he had been sitting during their last meeting, the one summoned up from the Seven Towers. This time, Mikel showed no evidence of intoxication. He stood to greet his visitors, scrupulously polite in his words, though extremely reserved in tone. He offered them seats and wine, and no mention was made of the purpose of their visit to the Shining City until everyone had a chance to relax and taste the wine.

"It was foolish of you to come to the Shining City to recruit your army," Mikel said then.

"Though we have accepted recruits, that was never the purpose of our visit," Silvas said. "We came with other goals."

"Such as?"

"We came to seek a resolution of the current difficulties, to seek some basis of understanding with your family. The continued sparring over the veil that covers the valley of the Seven Towers is an annoyance we would rather end. And we came to remind you that there remains a debt of honor between us."

"I recognize no such debt," Mikel replied, his forehead furrowing in a deep frown. "You left my service when you accepted my sister's dying gift. No obligation survives that."

"It does if you have any sense of honor," Silvas said. He spoke softly, without heat, but also without apology. There was no need to make a great display of indignation. Within the confines of this room, false emotional outbursts would be recognized as a poor showing, a weakness.

"All I have to offer is advice," Mikel said, an undercurrent of anger rising in his voice. "Make your peace with Barreth and Gioia any way you can. Make whatever offers you bring to them and hope they feel charitable."

"Charitable?" Maria asked, loading the word with scorn. She knew why Silvas had taken the route he had chosen, but she selected a different option, letting her indignation show clearly. "Barreth and Gioia? They don't know the word. Their only goal is our destruction, whatever the cost to themselves, and to their siblings. They will seek our destruction even if that means the sacrifice of the lot of you."

"You two are outsiders. There is nothing I can do," Mikel protested weakly, not looking at either Silvas or Maria.

"Nothing you will do," Silvas charged. "Let's be open among us, if nothing else. After all the pain I bore in your service, don't hide behind devices of air."

"Have it as you will. There is nothing I will do."

Maria stood, a beat ahead of Silvas.

"I can't bring myself to feel even pity for you," she told Mikel. "This isn't merely a case of right or wrong. You refuse to act when acting might save much death and destruction. So be it. You make your choice. But even if Silvas and I should finally fall, you will not escape. You'll lose more siblings before this ends. We won't be cowed by opposition, or disheartened by your cowardice."

Mikel looked shocked at the vitriolic outburst. Maria looked so young, so vulnerable, but she had dared to level such charges against him in his own home. He looked away from her, down at the goblet of wine in his hands.

"If there remains any chance to avoid further bloodshed, it rests with you," Silvas said, his continued soft tones a distinct contrast to Maria's heat. "If you were to declare for us, stand at our side, the danger would ebb. Barreth and Gioia would not dare to continue against us, not so soon after our last victory. For all the centuries I served you, I would not wish to see you suffer any additional pain. But Maria is right. We will not fall without a battle, and we are less helpless than I was alone before. I was your weapon at Mecq. You know the power I wore then, and to what effect. Maria and I are our own weapons now, more powerful than before. Our sting will be painful."

Mikel continued to stare at his wine. Silvas waited for a moment, looking down at the unhappy god who had been his master for so long. Then Silvas and Maria turned and left the room. Mikel did not call for them to stop. He said nothing.

—|—

"The interview did not go well," Bay observed after they had left the grounds of Mikel's estate.

"No, it did not go well," Silvas confirmed.

"Mikel will not oppose his siblings no matter what they do," Maria said. "He won't attempt to make a peace. I doubt that he would even fight to retain his position as Unseen Lord of the Church now."

"The recent deaths have so thoroughly disheartened him?" Bay asked, amazement in his voice.

"So it seems," Silvas said. "It is incredible, I agree. There must be much going on in this Citadel that we are unaware of to affect him so."

"Is there perhaps regret, or even feelings of guilt, over the deaths of his sister and brothers in his current state?" Bay asked.

"A god driven to despair as Judas was driven to despair after betraying his Lord?" Maria suggested.

"A novel perspective," Bay admitted.

There was no further open speech among them until they were on the drawbridge from the Citadel to the outer city.

"I would remind you of something," Bay said then. "Before the final battle over Mecq, Mikel provided for you and the others. You know what I have in mind?"

" 'I have armed and armored you as best I can,' " Silvas quoted. "I recall. You're right. It's time to take such measures."

"The soldiers you have engaged," Bay said. "Most have somewhat in the way of weapons and armor, but few of their horses are protected. In any case, thirty men armed and armored as you all were at Mecq should provide a minor spectacle, even in the Shining City."

"Very minor, no doubt," Silvas said with a smile. "But I see your point. A moment." He reached out with his mind.

Josephus, it is Silvas. Prepare the men for what is to come. I am about to give you all a livery appropriate for our situation.

Aye, lord, I'll warn them, Josephus replied. You are returning? Ah, yes, I see you now on the bridge. We're off to your right, near the orange market.

Silvas glanced that way and immediately spotted Josephus and the five small groups of armed and mounted men. I see you. I'll give you a moment to prepare them.

Josephus did not bother to move from group to group, or even shout instructions. Silvas did not eavesdrop, but still he sensed that the demigod merely called out to the men mind-to-mind, to be prepared for a demonstration of power, and for the arrival of the livery of their service.

"Now, I think," Maria said softly. She tightened her grip on Camiss's reins in case the mare might take the sudden arrival of armor, extra weight, amiss.

Silvas took the active lead. He pictured what he wanted, arms and armor, and a device to go on every shield. The images were finely detailed, and when they were ready, a single word of power was all that was required. Instantly, Silvas, Maria, and all of their new recruits were clad in shining plate armor, and armed with gleaming swords and heavy maces. Their horses were armored as well, and ornately caparisoned. The device on the shields and on the horses' livery showed a rainbow over a stylized representation of the Seven Towers. Between rainbow and towers, seven of the special birds of the Seven Towers were shown, in detail so fine that the greatest artist of the time would despair at ever duplicating the work.

Back in the valley of the Seven Towers, the Glade's soldiery was similarly accoutered, each of the races according to its individual needs. Even Felix found himself suddenly wearing a suit of armor again, with only the briefest warning from Silvas of what was to come.

"It will mark us clearly," Maria said after she had a moment to examine the reality that came from the vision.

"Quite clearly," Silvas agreed.

By the time they came off of the long drawbridge, Josephus had drawn up their men along the side of the moat, in two ranks parallel to the bridge.

"There seems little point to continuing the pretense that we are not with you, lord," Josephus said when Silvas and Maria stopped in front of the formation.

"No point at all." Silvas surveyed the ranks of soldiers—each equipped better than the grandest knight of the day in the mortal world—and smiled. "Yes, we will be an open parade now, but Maria and I will still ride a little ahead."

"Aye, lord, but we'll be close enough to leave no doubt," Josephus said.

"Yes." Silvas's smile grew. He was unable to hold back the expression, and equally unable to explain it. Their danger had increased manyfold when the armor and weapons appeared, but Silvas felt almost an exaltation at the display, even at the danger.

A fey whim, no doubt, he told Maria.

She smiled at him. If we are to perish, we shall do so with great style. Does that make us no different from the old gods?

We are different, Silvas assured her as he lost the edge of his smile. Hate does not drive us.

They started their horses again, moving toward the Inn of the Eye at a gentle pace. Josephus and the others followed, in four columns, keeping within seven or eight lengths of their master and mistress. People now openly stared at the procession. Bay led the way, taking a circuitous route, allowing more people a chance to gape at the spectacle.

"You're enjoying this," Silvas charged at one point.

"I am capable of enjoyment," Bay allowed. "We might as well make a display until we become one."

"How many people live in the Shining City?" Maria asked.

"More than a million mortals alone," Bay replied. "It is more difficult to number those such as Josephus who have a major measure of divinity. Perhaps a million and a quarter all told. There is no city in the mortal world to compare with this."

"Yet," Silvas said. A memory came to him. He had been shown a vision of a distant future once, a future with cities higher and vaster than this one, filled with people in unbelievable density. "This is the time and place in which you were born," Silvas's unseen guide had told him.

"Yet," Bay agreed. "And that future remains no more than a potential. The warring of the gods may prevent it ever coming."

With the longer day that held in the land of the gods, the sun was just past its zenith. Silvas and Maria showed no impatience at the duration of their ride back to the inn. For the moment, they looked at their surroundings, occasionally marveling at some work of art or ornately decorated building, as if they were indeed nothing more than peaceful travelers come to see the sights. Even in the mortal precincts of the Shining City there were places that outmatched anything Silvas had seen in the mundane world that he was wandered as a traveling wizard-potent.

At long last, they turned a corner to take them once more in the direction of their inn. At the end of one short block, an immense plaza stood across their route. By the time they reached the edge of that plaza, Silvas and Maria were aware that their enemies were waiting there.

Barreth and Gioia were in the center of the plaza, on horses as large as Bay and Camiss. Barreth and Gioia and their mounts were armed and armored, but the old gods had forsaken the use of helmets. Their heads were free, an open challenge. There was an empty circle around them, perhaps fifty yards in radius, and an empty lane leading from that circle to Silvas and Maria at the edge of the plaza. Apart from that, the square seemed crowded with spectators. Everyone was standing and watching, as if they knew precisely what was to come.

Josephus, hold the others at the perimeter of the circle unless I call for you, Silvas quickly projected.

Aye, lord, as you wish.

"Why not meet them openly with all of our people?" Maria asked softly.

If it's possible, I'd still avoid combat, Silvas replied.

I don't think that's possible any longer.

Bay hesitated, waiting for instructions.

"Slowly, Bay," Silvas said. "Stop about eight paces from them."

The horse did not answer, but he did start walking out into the square. Camiss showed her nervousness, but followed Bay without resistance. Silvas and Maria took care to avoid projecting their thoughts to their enemies. They erected a shield in front of them, an artifact of mind and spirit. A defensive scan showed no evidence that either Barreth or Gioia were trying to invade their minds, but they would certainly be aware of any overt use of power.

Bay stopped precisely at the distance Silvas had indicated. Silvas leaned forward on the pommel of Bay's saddle.

"Gioia. Barreth." Silvas spoke the names evenly, with no hint of emotion. "I expected that we would meet again soon."

"It may prove too soon for you," Gioia said, offering no pretense of diplomacy.

"Insolent bastards," Barreth said, spitting at the ground.

"As charming as ever," Maria said in sweet tones.

"You two are spoiling Mikel's great triumph," Silvas said. "Your actions leave him in such a state that one might think he had lost the recent battle. He takes no pleasure in his victory. He sits in his palace, consumed by a ponderous gloom. The day will come when he will remember that with great anger."

"It is you who defile his victory," Gioia said.

"If one takes up with gutter scum, then one must face the consequences," Barreth added.

"Doesn't it worry you to leave such an impression on the people who have gathered for your show?" Silvas made a broad gesture to indicate the crowd that stood around to watch. "They're like to see that their gods are no better than the basest of them."

"Why should we care what this rabble thinks?" Barreth said. "In any case, they will see and hear nothing until I choose to permit it. For the moment, they observe no more than do the stones under our feet."

Silvas acted without conscious planning, grabbing a word of power from his wizard's lore and imbuing it with all the godly power that Carillia's gift had provided. As that spell laid hold of Barreth and Gioia, Silvas added a second spell.

All four of the gods were held frozen in a moment of eternity, taken out of sight together while the events of the last several minutes were replayed for all of the spectators. The fact that Silvas had laid his initial spell on himself and Maria, as well as on Barreth and Gioia, had averted any attempt to defend against it. The surprise of the old gods was too complete. They had not been aware of the attack in time to stop it. When the replay ended, the crowd remained attentive. Barreth would be unable to shut them away from the byplay again.

"Until you choose to permit it?" Silvas asked, wearing the mockery openly.

After that, there was nothing but for the fighting to begin. Barreth and Gioia spurred their horses forward as they drew swords. Silvas and Maria also drew swords as Bay and Camiss moved forward to meet the attack.

Maria had absolutely no firsthand experience of battle, or training in the use of weapons. All she knew of combat from her own life was what little she had seen from the parapets of her father's castle during the battle at Mecq, or from watching the few men-at-arms of her father's establishment in training. But the knowledge was within her now. It mattered not that she had been only a young girl of modest strength before receiving Carillia's gift. She wielded her sword as easily as if it were a sewing needle. Instincts born in another's mind directed her actions, training that had prepared a thousand heroes was hers to command.

Maria remained able to communicate freely with Silvas, without detracting from anything else. There was much to share, even in the midst of a fight. They clearly understood that there was more at stake in this confrontation than their personal survival or destruction. Death, if it came, would be total; nothing of them would survive. But if they were disgraced yet somehow survived the battle, they would lose perhaps all of their new adherents, and they would have little chance of replacing them in the land of the gods. They also realized that they absolutely had to have such supporters to have any hope of long-term survival.

For many minutes, the contest was an even duel between the two pairs of gods. Silvas and Barreth sparred with each other while Maria and Gioia were similarly occupied. Heavy blades clashed against each other and against shields and body armor. The ring of spectators remained behind clearly defined boundaries, as if held back by force.

Only slowly did Silvas realize that the spectators were being restrained. They could see and hear everything that transpired now, but they could not get close. Barreth and Gioia wanted no interference with their sport. For the moment, Silvas was content to let things stay as they were. The longer that he and Maria were able to hold their own against older and more experienced gods, the more they would gain. If they survived.

Bay needed no direction to keep pressing for the most advantageous position in the duel. He knew his business, and that meant that Silvas had one less complication to worry about. Camiss was not experienced in this work, but she responded instantly to whatever demands Maria made of her. Maria was there in Camiss's mind, calming the mare, urging her on with every bit of encouragement she needed.

After a time, Barreth and Gioia started to show signs of impatience. This was not Gioia's type of combat. She preferred her bow and distance. And even Barreth took more pleasure from watching others fight than he did at fighting on his own part.

We have survived too long for their liking, Silvas told Maria.

That is a victory in itself, she replied.

But it was not sufficient. Neither of them let down their guard. Their opponents began to wear their frustration more openly. Barreth's anger was especially obvious. The look of concentration on his face became a frown of eloquent depth.

At last, Barreth spoke a word of power. Silvas was prepared for any such word directed at himself or Maria, but this word was not aimed at them. Rather, it released the barrier that had held the crowd away from the duel. A company of soldiers in the livery of Barreth's service charged out into the cleared circle, eager to help finish off their master's enemies.

Silvas did not hesitate. He projected his own call for assistance. My friends! To me!

Josephus and the rest of the soldiers that Silvas had enlisted galloped toward the fray, looking to intercept Barreth's soldiers before they could reach Silvas and Maria. But, to Silvas's surprise, many other people came forward at his call. Many were armed, but some were not. And all of these additional people were on foot.

Barreth and Gioia seemed equally astonished by the response to Silvas's call for aid. Momentarily, they held back their own attacks, going on the defensive, merely meeting the continued strokes of Silvas and Maria. Barreth tried to impose a new barricade, tried to stop help from reaching his enemies, but Silvas was there, immediately countering everything that Barreth attempted.

Barreth's soldiers were intercepted by Josephus and the mercenaries who had been armed by Silvas. Barreth's partisans were also caught up from behind by many of the new volunteers. Several were pulled from their horses, bludgeoned by clubs and fists. Many had their weapons taken away and used against them. The confusion of the melee was quickly complete.

Silvas and Maria pressed their advantage, forcing the attack against Barreth and Gioia, moving forward, so heartened by the response around them that their strength seemed to increase by a half. More of Silvas's new adherents came toward the gods, despite the risk to mortals in such a gesture. The old gods gave way before the combined assaults, moving toward the cluster of Barreth's beleaguered soldiers.

Barreth gave some silent command to his troops. As best they could, they disengaged from the fighting and rallied around their master and his sister. Slowly, the company moved toward one of the exits from the plaza, abandoning more than a dozen of their number dead or wounded on the ground. Maria and Silvas pressed forward until it was obvious to everyone that the old gods were retreating in disorder, then they stopped, and held back their supporters.

"This game palls on me," Barreth shouted from a distance of fifty yards. "But do not mistake to gloat. Your destruction comes soon, and that of all who take your part."

The laughter—from hundreds of throats—that met Barreth's threat further reddened his face, and speeded the pace of his departure.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Silvas and Maria were left in command of the plaza, with their supporters gathered around them. The much larger numbers of people who had taken no part in the fight still hung back, now of their own accord. But many seemed to take up the mood of the victors' celebration, and most obviously wished to hear whatever words might pass among the victors.

Josephus formed up the original contingent of mercenaries. None had been killed in the fight, though several had been wounded. Silvas dealt with those injuries quickly, and with those suffered by the others who had come forward to take their part, and even the wounded left behind when Barreth and Gioia fled. Only four of the unexpected volunteers had died in the fight.

After the injured were healed, Silvas and Maria turned their attention to the hundred or more people who had answered his call for help, apart from the thirty-two who had worn the new livery of the Seven Towers. They had clustered together in several groups. Since they were all on foot, Silvas dismounted, took off his helmet, and handed it to Maria, then moved toward the waiting men.

"My friends," he said, spreading his arms in an inclusive gesture. "I thank each of you for your help. Your actions show heart, courage, and daring. To any of you who wish to continue in our service, we open our arms. Follow us to the sign of the Eye where we will make the arrangement formal. You've already shown yourselves worthy. If any of you do not wish to join our service, please accept our deepest thanks for your assistance here. For whatever good it may do, you will leave with our appreciation and our blessing. Come forward now, and we will give you a more tangible reward to take away with you as well."

Silvas waited, but no one came forward to claim a reward and leave. After a couple of minutes, Silvas smiled and nodded.

"Thank you again. Follow us to the sign of the Eye where we can talk more comfortably."

"The Seven Towers will grow more crowded," Maria whispered after Silvas had remounted.

"We have room," Silvas replied. "This is a more heartening day than we could have imagined."

"Providing it isn't spoiled before the end," Maria said.

"My own thoughts exactly," Bay injected.

The troop was more impressive than ever as it followed Silvas and Maria. Josephus and the liveried soldiers rode right behind their leaders. The rest followed them. There was an air of celebration to the last contingent in the parade. The men who had joined the melee on impulse were experiencing a euphoric reaction to victory. They showed none of the discipline of a trained unit. They were little more than a mob that had chosen the right side in a skirmish.

The Inn of the Eye was jammed when everyone followed Silvas and Maria into the courtyard. With insufficient room in the public room for all of his adherents, Silvas ordered trestle tables set up in the courtyard, as well as kegs of beer and wine and all of the food the landlord could get out to them.

"I much regret to inform you, Lord Silvas," the landlord said while his servants were scurrying to accommodate so many patrons, "that we do not have the facilities to house all of your people overnight."

"I wouldn't expect to place such a burden on you," Silvas said. He dug into his purse and pulled out more than enough gold coins to recompense the landlord. "For your services and your trouble. We will remember your house kindly."

"Thank you, my lord." The landlord touched his forehead in salute before bowing over and over as he retreated from the armored figure. "I pray you will honor my house again when your travels bring you back to the Shining City."

Silvas and Maria circulated among their followers, those who had joined before the trek to the Citadel and those who had joined in the face of immediate danger. They talked to each of the men in the latter group, to ask after names and to confirm that the men wished to continue in their service. Each was armed and armored in turn, a token of acceptance. Josephus was set to purchase horses for the new men, and the animals were also armored and decorated. Each of the new men was also given one of the small silver coins. By the time Silvas and Maria completed their rounds, an hour and more had passed. The celebration was becoming even noisier than it had been at its start.

"Eat up, and drink while drink remains," Silvas urged. "We leave shortly for the Seven Towers, whose device you now wear."

—|—

It took until mid-afternoon to collect enough horses to mount all of the new soldiers. When the troop rode toward the gate out of the Shining City, they looked as imposing as any force in the city. People turned to stare. Those in their way moved quickly to one side or the other. Bay alternated his pace between a walk and a soft trot while they were in the city. Behind him, the horses of the mercenaries and volunteers moved in a ragged formation. Once the procession cleared the drawbridge and put the Shining City behind it, Josephus moved up and rode next to Silvas and Maria.

Silvas used the time as they crossed the plain to explain to Josephus the arrangements that existed in the Seven Towers. "We were never set up for such an array as this, but we'll manage. Until this time, the establishment has featured roughly equal numbers of humans and gurnetz, with a smaller number of esperia."

Josephus was familiar with the other races, though he had seldom had occasion to be around them.

"The captain of the guard in the Seven Towers has always been a gurnetz," Silvas explained. "Braf Goleg has commanded the castle guard for nearly twenty years now. Since he has become one of my formal counselors, he may wear that title as long as I wear mine. Our arrangements will be somewhat parallel. You will command this force under me. The castle guard will remain his."

"However you wish to use me, lord," Josephus said. "I put no constraints on my service."

When the force reached the top of the grade leading away from the Shining City, they could see the bubble lying across the horizon in front of them. The sight caused a few murmurs, but no real fear. Soldiers who dared to rush forward to battle gods were unlikely to be intimidated by anything to be found in the mortal world. They were used to a different land, where the remarkable was—generally—unremarkable. They were accustomed to the feuds of the gods, and they had some idea of what they were exposing themselves to before they accepted service under Silvas and Maria. Serving a god might be dangerous, but the potential rewards were extravagant enough to draw many.

As soon as the force passed through the barrier around the valley of the Seven Towers, Silvas projected word of their coming ahead to warn Braf and the sentries on the walls that they were coming, and that they were not an enemy force come to assault the Glade. There was no need for Silvas to concern himself with what the people of the village might think of his force. The direct road was not visible from the village or from the field around it.

It was time for the evening meal when the columns of soldiers rode through the gate of the Glade. Warned of their approach, Braf and Bosc were there to greet Silvas and Maria.

"Things are in a fine state here," Braf said. " 'Twill take time to find room for so many."

"Especially the horses," Bosc said. "Our mews are not meet to house half this number." Even that was an understatement. There was hardly room for a dozen new horses to be stabled along with those that were already there.

"We'll do what we can for now, and make better arrangements as soon as we can," Silvas said. "For now, let's see to the immediate needs of the horses and get the rest of us to table."

Caring for the horses took another half hour. The delay did give the household staff time to erect several trestle tables and rearrange the customary smaller tables in the great hall. It also gave the cooks time to finish preparing the vast additional amounts of food that so many extra bellies would require.

The great hall was a particularly noisy place that evening. The veterans of the day's encounter in the Shining City talked about their experiences, both among themselves and with the folk of the Seven Towers. The brief confrontation grew in the telling and retelling. By the end of the meal there seemed to be a half-dozen mutually exclusive versions of the fight, as if there had been that many separate battles.

At least there were no fights over conflicting versions. Silvas, Maria, and the others at the head table with them—Josephus and Felix—watched closely for any sign of an argument grown serious.

"A good mix," Silvas observed after watching and listening for quite some time. "We'll have to work quickly to provide suitable housing for everyone. I mislike the idea of having people merely grab a little straw on the floor. It goes against the traditions of the Seven Towers."

"If I might make a suggestion?" Josephus said. It had already been decided that he would have a room in the keep of the Glade, on the same floor as Felix's.

"By all means," Silvas urged.

"There seems room along the curtain wall, this side of the mews, for an additional building, with stables on the ground floor and barracks above."

"Show us." Silvas touched his forehead with a finger.

Silvas, Maria, and Josephus closed their eyes and Josephus showed them, quickly erecting the building he envisioned in their minds. Room and more, Josephus pointed out. This might handle even fifty men more than we brought with us today.

The revision to the Seven Towers appeared as real and solid as any of the older portions. The three divines walked about it in their minds, looking at it inside and out.

This would take months to build, Maria observed.

Only if you insist on mortal craftsmen, Josephus countered.

I never would have dreamed of so ambitious a magic before, Silvas said. But now it seems little more than what it took to provide weapons and armor for the men.

"Exactly," Josephus said, opening his eyes and looking toward Silvas.

"We'll go outside first," Silvas said. "I would abhor any error that caught someone in the way of such work."

When the three of them got up from the table and headed for the front door, Felix trailed along. He had been unable to follow the tour the others had taken in the spirit, but his awakening powers had shown him that something was in the wind. Braf, Bosc, and Koshka also followed, and behind them perhaps half of the folk in the great hall.

Outside, they saw that several horses had strayed into the area where Josephus had placed the new building in thought. Silvas sent people to move the horses to a safe distance, and to make certain that no others strayed into danger.

"Hold the image in your mind," Silvas told Josephus when the area was clear.

Silvas reached into Josephus's mind and grasped the structure of the building with many tendrils of power. At this juncture, Maria and Silvas were working fully as one, without any trace of separate identity in their movements in the spirit. They lifted the model of the building and placed it against the curtain wall of the Seven Towers, then quickly withdrew.

The new building appeared all at once, in less than the blink of an eye. A gasp of amazement came from all who had come out to watch. Though the folk with long experience of the Seven Towers had seen magics enough, they had never seen anything to rival this. Even the folk who had just come from the land of the gods had rarely, if ever, seen its like.

"There," Silvas said, turning to face the crowd of onlookers. "That will ease the crowding. Bosc, there's sufficient room for the horses below, as well as additional stores of fodder. And rooms above for the men."

—|—

When Silvas and Maria were finally able to retreat to their apartments above the great hall, they both felt that their day had been more than full.

"It isn't the magic that was so draining, or even the duel we fought in the Shining City," Maria said as she prepared for bed. "I really can't explain what we did this day that was so depleting."

"Nor I," Silvas said. "But I feel the drain as well, as if some force were attempting to suck power from us the way a leech sucks blood from a body."

"You don't actually think that's what is happening?" Maria asked, allowing minimal concern to show in her voice. Alone in their bedroom, they sought the open communication of mere mortals, setting aside the direct link between them to a subconscious level. Already, both of them craved such moments as this, temporary abdications of the greater whole they had become.

Silvas reflected for a moment, then shook his head. "No. I think rather that this is a natural effect of some sort, perhaps customary to such as we have become."

They talked, and they moved toward each other across the large bed they shared. Even after they reached each other and moved toward physical intimacy, the conversation continued, though it became more and more disjointed as their passions grew.

"To think, it's been little more than a week since Carillia joined us together," Silvas managed as he caressed Maria.

Maria had changed physically in the brief time she had been with Silvas, no doubt a reflection of the inner growth that Carillia's gift had forced upon her. She no longer appeared to be an awkward adolescent having difficulty coming to terms with new womanhood. Her figure had filled out to a more mature lushness, but that was not the most astounding facet of her physical transformation. That was in the mature beauty of her face, a veneer of serenity almost as complete as that which Carillia had customarily worn. When Silvas first met Maria, in the great hall of her father's castle, he had not thought her especially attractive. Now... she seemed almost as beautiful as Carillia had always appeared.

After a prolonged period of foreplay, Maria rolled Silvas over onto his back and straddled him, lowering herself onto him, and into his spirit. The link between their minds became full part of their lovemaking. Maria controlled the pace of their physical union while their minds soared beyond infinities together. At first, her body moved slowly against his, prolonging each tickle of arousal. Then she increased the pace, and their skin slapped together with each thrust, until Maria's movements were so rapid that they would be no more than a blur to any mortal observer.

The climax, when it finally came, was equally remarkable. Once more, Silvas and Maria melted into each other in the throes of an ecstasy that overflowed the physical limits of their bodies and spanned the distances between stars in an instant. Then they collapsed back into themselves, shuddering with almost unbearable ecstasy. Maria slid forward to lie atop Silvas as each of them gasped for breath, their minds still reeling.

At long last, they drifted into a languid torpor, fully sated, and much more spent than they had been when they climbed into bed. Their spirits floated along a placid stream of stars and worlds, touching only lightly as they slid toward sleep.

Just as Silvas felt himself crossing the last ripple into slumber, his body shook once, as if in spasm. It was enough to rouse both him and Maria somewhat.

"What is it, love?" Maria asked, her voice carrying the full weight of approaching sleep.

"Nothing," he whispered. But his mind was active once more. His senses were alert, those of the flesh and those of the spirit. Maria had nearly crossed into sleep when he took a deep breath and spoke.

"I'm afraid it's time for another Council, Maria."

"Tonight?" she asked, almost plaintively.

"Tonight. There is unfinished business that must be completed before the next battle comes."

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Maria and Silvas pulled on dressing robes and went up to the workroom. Satin and Velvet accompanied them, going immediately to their circles of protection along the wall. Once Silvas and Maria were inside the pentagram, Silvas activated it and went through his routine precautions. Though a god might not need the defensive spells of wizardry, that craft was one of the few advantages that Silvas and Maria held against the old gods. Mikel had supported Silvas for centuries—and Auroreus before him—to have that wizardry available at need, and the gods of the Blue Rose had also sought out a wizard-potent to be the spearhead of their assault on the White Brotherhood.

The couple stood back-to-back in the center of the pentagram through the early spells. Then they sat down, carefully, still back-to-back, for the final chants, including the spell of separation. As that progressed through the critical stanza, Maria and Silvas stood in the spirit, the Doppelgänger forms stepping clear of the physical bodies that remained seated in the pentagram, continuing the chant of the final spell.

The two great cats watched the spirit forms move across the room, but Satin and Velvet remained seated within their protective cylinders. They had seen this magic many times.

In turn, Silvas and Maria fetched Bay, Bosc, and Braf Goleg, and directed each of them to the room-that-did-not-exist where Silvas conducted his Councils. Then they went to fetch Josephus. Though new to the idea of a Wizard's Council, and without prior warning that it was coming, Josephus stepped easily out of his physical body when Silvas summoned him.

The room of the Council was as it always was, but there were minor differences. The vagueness of the room's dimensions hid any sense that the room itself might have changed, but the table seemed somewhat larger, and there were more chairs than usual. Even after Josephus, Silvas, Maria, and Bosc took their seats, one chair remained vacant. Bay and Braf stood at their places. Silvas stood again and looked around the table.

"Josephus is here by right of his divinity and the oath he has sworn to serve Maria and me. He has no need of initiation into this Council. Carillia made him a demigod long before she came to me. There is one more person I wish to draw into this Council, to make him a member, to bind him even more closely to us. Felix, my new apprentice."

Silvas stepped out of the room, alone this time. Maria remained seated. Hardly any time at all seemed to pass within the chamber before Silvas returned with Felix.

"Take your seat." Silvas pointed toward the vacancy between Bosc and Braf.

Felix sat and looked around, nervous at being summoned to this meeting without warning. He had met Josephus, and knew that he was a demigod of long duration, but they had talked only at table in the great hall, and they had been on opposite ends of the head table. Josephus had worn his power openly in the hall of his new lord and lady, but he had been warm and kind as well.

Silvas took his seat next to Maria again.

"Felix, I want you to open your mind totally to us. We need to know you completely, and it will make it easier for me to teach you those things you need to know immediately," Silvas said. In such a state, the erstwhile monk could not possibly hide anything of consequence from Silvas.

Felix nodded, then bowed his head as if he were entering prayer. Silvas and Maria took a linked trip in the spirit through the innermost recesses of Felix's mind and soul. They found no treasonous plots or indications that any other power held Felix in its grasp. Felix had led a simple life, focused completely on his faith and its duties until his path had crossed that of Silvas. The recent complications were there to be read as well, and the turmoil that Felix was still attempting to resolve. The excursion did not take long. Felix sensed exactly when it was over. He raised his head and opened his eyes again, staring at Silvas, waiting for the verdict of the wizard god.

"We ask you to become a member of our Council," Silvas and Maria said in a unison that was so perfect that no one around the table could discern two voices in the words. Then, alone, Silvas explained exactly what the choice entailed. "You will become like Josephus and our other counselors," Silvas said, a warning as much as a promise. "You will taste of the same immortality, and find power according to your nature and desire." Silvas went on at great length to emphasize the potential drawbacks that accompanied that power and longevity, as he had with Braf and—much farther back in time, with each of the counselors who served him.

"I will become a demigod such as these others?" Felix asked, surprising himself. He had not, until that very moment, realized that Bosc, Braf, and even Bay held that measure of divinity.

"Yes," Maria said.

Felix's lifelong acceptance of the discipline and open doctrine of the Church forced a long hesitation. His exposure to the Greater Mysteries was yet new, without the strength of long habit. But, finally, he took in a deep breath.

"I have come too far to back away now, lord," he said finally. "It is clear that my path is meant to run with yours. I accept your offer, humbly, and I hope I will serve you well."

In short order, the deed was done. Felix tried to take stock of himself, but failed to notice any immediate difference. That came as a distinct relief to him.

"I have a tale to tell," Silvas said, passing straight on to the more vital business of the Council. "This happened not a fortnight past. We had scarcely settled in at Mecq, when demons attacked the Seven Towers in the night. Carillia and I went to my workshop, and I went within the pentagram there to combat the demons. Two of them attacked me there. Others assaulted Bay and Bosc in the mews. The battle was a near thing, but we eventually managed to destroy these demons." Bay and Bosc reacted similarly to Silvas's narration. Their eyes narrowed as they shared memories of that raid.

"Just as the demons were vanquished, though, a powerful force seized me and hurled me through an infinite chaos," Silvas continued. "After a time I could not measure, I fell into a forest glade where none of my wizard's power functioned. In the center of this clearing, an old man sat on a rock. I thought of him as an old man, though I couldn't see him distinctly. It was as if many layers of filmy cloth were between us. The old man knew the name I was born with, a name I have not spoken in centuries, a name no living mortal could know. He bade me sit on the grass near him, and I sat.

"Then he told me a story about the old gods and their parents, a loving couple who were so wrapped up in each other that they had completely ignored the score of offspring that their love had produced. He spoke of how that neglect warped those children, until they turned to fighting each other and doing other outrageous deeds in a misplaced attempt to regain the attention of their parents. The parents, bitterly disillusioned over the way their children had developed, finally turned completely away from them in disgust and in shame, even though they had come to realize their own guilt in the matter. They felt that there was nothing left that they could do. After that, the children competed against each other with even greater ferocity, until—as the old man told me—'Death was less to be feared than defeat. And once the dying started...' "

Silvas stopped at that point, exactly as the old man had stopped when he told Silvas the story.

"I have a thought, the strongest suspicion, that the old man was himself the father of the old gods, there to prepare me for what was to come. In any case, he must have been from the land beyond that place where the old gods live. I think that I need to contact him again. If there is any solution to be found to our predicament, short of another cataclysmic battle such as we fought over Mecq, it is in that other land that I must find it.

"The powers of a wizard did not obtain in the clearing where I met the old man. I could not have taken myself there, and I was unable to take myself away from it. But the powers of a full god, in a Council such as this, might suffice. I want your powers behind me in concert, to propel me to that clearing and, should it be necessary, to recall me when I have finished."

Maria and Josephus had shared Silvas's memories directly, with all of the vividness of the original experience. Even the others had caught extensive glimpses of the scene, accompaniment to Silvas's narration. Once he had finished, Silvas and Maria called up a pentagram of silver in the ethereal Council chamber. When it came into being, the limits of the room expanded to accommodate it—without showing the expansion openly.

Silvas and Maria took up positions in the central pentagon. This diagram was much larger than the physical one in Silvas's conjuring chamber. There was ample room for the two of them in this pentagram. Their counselors took up position in the triangles that formed the five points of the pentagram: Josephus, Bosc, Felix, Bay, and Braf. Silvas spent some moments impressing on each of the others what might be required of them. Maria would remain in the pentagram. She would have her constant link to Silvas—if that link could span the gap between Council and clearing—to tie him to his starting point and to keep the others informed of what was going on.

Maria and Silvas worked together to erect a system of incantations as preliminaries, speaking the spells with the others echoing them in the old language of the Trimagister. Even Felix found that he finally had the power to grasp and recall the words of that language now.

Silvas focused on his memories of that forest clearing, and the indistinct form of the old man sitting on the rock at the exact center of an unnaturally round gap in the pine forest. The memory picture became more and more detailed as Silvas poured power into the image.

The air around the pentagram crackled and popped at the power generated within it. The Council chamber grew more indistinct than usual, until it seemed to fade completely from view. The silver lines of the pentagram shone brightly, and the platform became a cosmos unto itself, apart even from the place of spiritual conclave.

Once Silvas felt that the time was right, all seven of the individuals within the pentagram spoke the same word of power, and Silvas braced himself, expecting to feel the body of his spirit being hurtled through a remembered insanity to the clearing that he could now see as plainly as he had seen it when he was first pulled to it.

Power flowed, arcing from the memory within the pentagram to the site that memory pictured. Sparks flew in all directions. Silvas could see that forest clearing as if at a tremendous distance, and distorted, with the edges bent toward him. But he did not feel himself flying toward it. He felt himself being distorted as well, stretched, his feet seemingly anchored firmly within the pentagram while his head was pulled toward the clearing, his body becoming elongated and increasingly thin.

Silvas struggled to free his feet, projecting his difficulty to Maria, unable at the moment to feel any response from her. He could feel their link, but there was no communication along it.

There was no physical pain in the way Silvas's body was stretched almost to infinity. This body was of spirit only. But there was pain within his mind, within his spirit, something far more intense than the other variety. Yet bearable. Silvas tried to lift his feet, separately and together, but for an age they would not budge. He looked down. His feet were visible, but not the pentagram on which they stood. Silvas created new spells, larding them with the most potent words of power.

Finally, his feet did come free. They did not catapult toward his head at great speed, though. Only slowly did his form seem to compress toward its normal dimensions. He was, however, moving in the proper direction, and gradually accelerating toward the clearing whose image he held in his mind.

This time he did not fall into the clearing. His landing was as gentle as if he had stepped from one stair down to the next.

The clearing was precisely as Silvas recalled it, in every detail, save that the old man was not sitting on the rock at its center. Silvas was alone. There was not even the call of bird or beast to keep him company. He stood motionless, straining to hear any sound at all, without success. He reached into his mind then, feeling for the link to Maria. It was there, but extremely weak, almost as tenuous as it had been while he was in Hell.

"I am here." The words were more for his own comfort than a serious attempt to reach Maria. "Where is the old man?"

He walked toward the rock at the center of the clearing, then around it, though the stone was not large enough to conceal anyone. Silvas turned through a circle, looking at the ring of pine trees that seemed as impassable as a wild thicket. Alone. Silvas stood near the center of the clearing for a moment, breathing softly, probing outward with the powers of his mind, seeking any trace of the old man, or anyone else. He walked back to the perimeter of the clearing, as near the point where he had arrived as he could contrive, then began a clockwise circuit, searching for any hint of a path. If the old man was not in the clearing, Silvas would have to go looking for him.

Silvas strode all of the way around the clearing, but found no hint of any path. The trees were spaced with great regularity. The lower branches meshed together, presenting an almost impenetrable wall. Very small animals might pass below those branches without difficulty, but any human larger than a toddler would find great trouble in passing through the barrier. Even if Silvas were ready to bull his way through, he would have no easy way to know which direction he should take.

Silvas looked back out toward the vacant rock in the center of the clearing, then turned to look at the wall of trees again, wondering what he should do next. Then he turned once more, and the old man was sitting on the rock, as indistinct as he had been the first time. Silvas stared at him, squinting, using his telesight and all of the facility he could garner from his new power. The old man remained indistinct, but not—perhaps—as completely blurred as before.

Silvas walked slowly toward the man. As he approached, he became certain that he was closer to being able to see through the mask. There was a vague familiarity to the old man. Silvas could not escape the sense that he should know him from some other venue, but he could not yet make final identification.

When he was still three paces from the old man, Silvas stopped, wonder if the old man would speak first.

He did not. After a moment, Silvas said, "I've come to ask for your help, hoping to avoid another murderous battle."

The old man stared at him. He did not invite Silvas to sit. It was several minutes before the old man spoke.

"I see that you have great difficulties. But you have wasted precious time coming to me. I wish I could offer you a solution, even a glimpse of the proper course, but I cannot. I do not even know that such a course exists. If it does, you will have to find it, with your consort and counselors."

Silvas started to interrupt, but the old man held up a hand and Silvas closed his mouth.

"Consider. If I could have found a way to stop the feuding among the gods, I would have applied it ages ago. You would not be here, in the predicament in which you find yourself."

Silvas listened with a sinking heart, as if he were hearing a judge pronounce sentence of immediate death over him. The old man's words seemed to be branded on Silvas's soul.

"There is only one piece of advice I can offer," the old man said, "Look to your roots. I cannot support the advice, but I feel that the answer you seek might lie there."

That statement brought a swirl of confusion to Silvas. He felt his forehead furrow in puzzlement, but when he looked to question the old man, Silvas found that he had disappeared, as suddenly as he had appeared. And before Silvas could react to that, the clearing folded in on him and disappeared.

Silvas found himself in an absolute void, beginning to spin as he sought to understand the old man's advice. Then his entire body seemed to convulse in great violence. He collapsed in on himself and them rebounded, pulled in several directions at once.

For just an instant, his awareness ceased. When it returned, Silvas found himself back in the center of the physical pentagram in his conjuring room—not in the pentagram erected in Council—his back pressed against Maria's back. The Council had been sundered, his counselors released from the call. Even the spells that normally maintained this physical pentagram when its power was active had been shut down.

Danger screamed at Silvas and Maria from every side.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Danger literally pressed against the valley of the Seven Towers from every side. The veil that isolated the valley was squeezing inward from every side, forcing the valley to contract toward nothingness. Racing outward in their minds, Silvas and Maria could see what was happening. The effect was most noticeable along the upper slopes of the hills that ringed in the Glade and its village, and in the passes where the roads crossed out of the valley. The land was crumpling up, slowly, but relentlessly. Trees were falling and being splintered, caught in new folds in the earth, ground up and buried as the land pressed inward. The ground shuddered and trembled in agony, shaking the entire valley.

So far, there was no visible damage in the village, in the center of the valley, or in the fields right around it. Even in the Seven Towers, the earthquake had not yet caused any gross damage, though the castle itself had started to tremble slightly.

"We don't have much time to stop this," Silvas said.

"The veil is no longer sufficient. They want to fully destroy this valley and everything in it," Maria replied.

Brief conversations did not waste time. While their mouths spoke, their minds worked at much greater speed, seeking alternatives and reaching outward to spread the alarm and to contact their counselors. Everyone had returned safely to their bodies following the truncated Council. The castle guard and the newly recruited mercenaries were already answering the call to arms.

Silvas and Maria did not bother to go down to their apartment to don the armor and weapons that were waiting for them there. They used more direct means to call it to them. A word clad them in armor, and brought their weapons to hand.

Josephus and Braf met Silvas and Maria at the base of the stairway outside the great hall. Both were geared for battle and reported the readiness of their men.

"The first thing we have to do is stop this contraction," Silvas said. "If we can't do that, it little matters who is behind it or what their next move might be. We'll go to the crossroads at the center of the valley."

"Stopping the contraction might take all of us who were within the Council pentagram," Josephus cautioned. "There is considerable force behind this."

Silvas's hesitation was scarcely noticeable even for senses honed to a perfect edge by imminent catastrophe. He nodded. "All of us," he said. "Braf, that means you'll have to leave the Seven Towers as well, for however long this takes."

"Aye, lord. I've already made arrangements."

Felix came down the stairs then, still fumbling to connect the last straps on his armor, and doing poorly. Josephus went to him and adjusted everything quickly, if roughly.

"What is it, lord?" Felix managed to stutter while Josephus was working.

"The battle is about to be joined, if we survive the collapsing of this valley," Silvas said. Forcefully, he projected the image of what was happening into Felix's mind. Call forth the power within you! he commanded. We must all fight now. It was a difficult task to set for a new apprentice, but there was no time for a more gentle way.

Felix's face paled. "I'll do what I may."

The five of them went out into the courtyard. Bosc was there with Bay and Camiss. Horses were also waiting for Josephus and Felix. Braf would run alongside them. He would not ride a horse, even for this urgent mission. The band of soldiers recruited in the Shining City was mounted, waiting to follow. Their duty was combat in the open. The walls of the Seven Towers would be defended by their traditional forces.

"Here, Bosc," Maria said after she had mounted Camiss. "You'll ride with me." She leaned to the side and stretched out a hand. When Bosc took it, she pulled him quickly up in front of her on Camiss.

There was no need for spoken commands. Anything that had to be communicated went from mind to mind. Silvas and Maria started toward the gate. Braf ran at Silvas's side. Josephus and Felix followed—Felix still awkward in the saddle. The hundred and more armed warriors from the land of the gods fell into two columns behind them. Even these soldiers could sense that something dire was happening, though few had the power to actually see the destruction taking place along the verge of the valley. Tonight we earn our way or die, was a common thought.

It still did not look like night. Only memory of the passage of time, and the turning of the watches in the castle, clearly informed anyone that it was night, a time when all but the sentries should be asleep. The colors in the sky looked somewhat darker, and more turbulent, but there was still considerable light. Angry clouds pressed closer together, bringing another torrent of lightning in primary and secondary colors, ranging from cloud to cloud. The lightning still did not attack the ground. The rainbow hues were also being compressed from the edges, giving the balance to the central colors.

When the riders reached the crossroads, Josephus deployed his soldiers in a wide circle, facing outward toward the danger. In the center of that circle, the rest got ready to combat the shrinking of their valley. Once more, Silvas drew a large pentagram in the intersection, using the blade of his sword rather than the quarterstaff he normally used for such constructions. Each line and angle was drawn perfectly, even at such speed that Silvas seemed to be running from point to point.

Once the pentagram was complete, the seven individuals of power took up the same positions they had taken in the Council pentagram—Silvas and Maria together in the center; Josephus, Bay, Felix, Braf, and Bosc in the points. For this work, Josephus was placed in the point that faced north, along the longer axis of the valley.

The first spells, to empower and defend this pentagram, were chanted quickly, but carefully. Silvas and Maria took the lead, and focused individually on each word of every stanza. Beyond that, their work took on a more hectic pace. They were not concerned with elegance, only with stopping the contraction of the valley as quickly as they could. Refinement could come later, if there was a later.

The first spells to counteract the collapse of the valley required a major application of power even for gods and demigods working in concert. For every spell that Silvas and his companions wove, there was an opposing spell. Someone was actively directing this assault.

Vital though it was to stop the contraction of the valley, Silvas could still spare some thought for his latest interview with the old man in the strange forest clearing. Even while Silvas sought spell after spell to push back against the forces outside the valley, one line of the old man's talk came to dominate his ruminations: "Look to your roots." At first, that remained a puzzle. And then, a glimmer.

My roots, my beginnings, my birth, Silvas thought.

For all the ages of his wizardry, Silvas had known nothing of his beginnings. His earliest memories had been of his arrival at the Glade, a seven-year-old boy come to serve as apprentice to Auroreus. Silvas's mind had been a blank slate, knowing nothing of his past but his name, and even that was quickly put aside for a new name. Only recently had Silvas learned that Auroreus had scoured all of time to find him, and a kaleidoscopic journey to that time had given him some hints. He had come from a mad future of buildings that put the palaces of the Shining City to shame, a future where people sped around at impossible speeds in enclosed metal carriages pulled by no animals. The pace of life in that milieu had appeared impossibly frantic, a caricature of some as-yet unimaginable reality.

But Silvas was no longer restricted to the mind of a wizard, conditioned by his teacher. There were no longer corners in his head that he could not explore. Looking now, Silvas saw the seven-year-old boy he had been when Auroreus found him, an orphan in a time and place that seemed impossibly strange. As soon as Silvas decided that the collapse of the valley had been slowed sufficiently, he was ready to chance the distraction that an excursion into his long-hidden childhood might bring.

He warned Maria through their direct link. Be ready to call me back instantly at need, he added, and he waited for her acknowledgment before he took the next step.

Silvas did not actually take a deep breath then, save in the body of his spirit. He stood within his mind and took a quick look around, as if he were seeking ambushers close at hand. Then he called on the memory of his one chaotic tour through the land and time of his birth, bringing it out of its recess the way he might call a scroll from its niche in his library.

He lived the memory again, with his younger self there looking through his eyes as guide.

The world raced past him/them. Boldly painted vehicles of metal and glass sped by much faster than galloping horses. Silvas doubted that even Bay could pace these vehicles. The buildings... Silvas craned his head back. Row after row of windows stretched up far into the sky, many hundreds of feet above him. The buildings sat next to each other, and across narrow lanes from each other, as far as he could see in either direction. He walked to the nearest intersection and saw that the array went on in the other directions as well. Skyscrapers, his youthful guide said. A few hundred feet away down one of those other roads, an elevated roadway crossed, and on that there was what appeared to be an endless stream of the strange and noisy vehicles. Some were much larger than the ones he saw on the surface roads right around him. Large, closed boxes attached to smaller vehicles, large boxes with rows of windows along the sides. He could see people inside all of the vehicles with windows. They seemed intent on whatever was directly in front of them, not looking at whatever, or whoever, might be on either side or behind them. Cars, trucks, buses, his younger self said, giving words to the images.

Not all of the people were in vehicles, though. Hundreds, thousands, of them hurried by on walkways—sidewalks—that paralleled the roads. They seemed not to see Silvas, which was not much of a surprise to him. His trip through this time was only in the spirit.

He turned to face the largest stream of pedestrians. They were dressed in a bewildering array of styles, all of which seemed alien to Silvas. Many of the men appeared to wear something similar to a uniform, trousers and coat of similar fabric, color, and design, over shirts that were white or some pastel shade, with colored cloths tied around their necks and hanging down their chests, visible in the V-notches of their jackets. The colors of the jackets and trousers were generally drab—blue, gray, brown, dark blue—but occasionally bright. Some of the women were dressed similarly, though perhaps a third of the women wore skirts instead of trousers.

Silvas stared closely at the faces. Everyone seemed intent on what was directly in front of them, as the people in the vehicles had. He saw intense concentration, and many frowns, but not a smile or laugh, not in hundreds of faces that rushed past without showing the slightest hint that they saw him.

Almost without realizing what he was doing, Silvas started walking against the flow of that pedestrian traffic. His presence did not impede any of the walkers, and they did not impede him. While he walked, the vista around him flickered, changing subtly. He had gone several dozen paces before he realized that the entire scene was changing with each flicker. He was seeing different futures, any one of which might be the one that actually came to pass. Anything you do could affect the future that will be, a voice within him said, and Silvas remembered a similar warning given to him on his other tour through this landscape: If you fail, it will not be better that you had never been born, it will be as if you had never been born. If he failed, the future in which he had been born might never come into existence... and then he would not have existed to fail.

Silvas's mind worried at that paradox without success. He stopped walking. A shed with one open side was close by, displaying—not books or scrolls, but papers with writing and pictures. Some were black and white, while others used a lot of colors. Newspapers and magazines, the boy who had become Silvas told him. Silvas stared, his eyes scanning, but he really was not registering what he saw. The language was different. It was English, but it was not the English he knew from the thirteenth century. The boy within pieced out some of the words, but not even he could instantly translate all of them. He had been new to reading when Auroreus snatched him from that world.

Bright covers. One with a bright red rim caught his eye, and the words so large that they almost seemed to scream at him: "GOD IS DEAD!"

That caption was quickly lost in a deluge of other words and pictures. The papers in the shed seemed to change with every flicker of the air around them. There were words that Silvas could not fathom immediately, although the words around them were common enough. Proper names, he thought, names of people and places. I should be able to puzzle them out if I put my mind to it. But there were always new words, and new sights, forcing themselves to his notice.

Then the shed disappeared. The people and their vehicles also vanished. The mighty towers were reduced to smoking rubble, or to rubble that did not smoke, or they simply ceased to exist, to be replaced by woodland, or by water that flowed high over Silvas's head as the potential futures strayed farther and farther from the norm that Silvas had first seen.

"Enough already!" he shouted when he was once more surrounded by dry land—and a cemetery that stretched as far as he could see in every direction. Hundreds, perhaps thousands, of rows of stone markers stood in regular ranks. There might have been a million people buried in that one field.

"Enough already!"

Silvas scarcely had a chance to realize that he was back in his mind, in his physical body, still weaving spells to hold back the collapsing dome over the valley of the Seven Towers when he heard another scream of alarm.

"Lord, they come!" It was Braf, shouting a warrior's alert. The real battle was finally at hand.

Silvas looked through his eyes and the excursion faded from his immediate thoughts. The enemy was indeed coming, on two levels. They were invading the valley of the Seven Towers, but they were also gathering in the land of the gods, and once more Silvas found himself needed on two separate but joined battlefields. The young boy disappeared from the consciousness of the wizard god. Silvas took a deep breath as he looked around and decided how to deploy the forces he had at his command.

But even while he struggled to meet the immediate challenge, there was a nagging thought in his mind. The answer was there, in what I saw. I saw enough to give me the clue. If only I had time to pull it all together.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

"It should be an hour until dawn," Silvas said in an offhand manner. But the continuing lack of true night in the valley meant that there would be no true dawn—at least not before the battle was won or lost.

"The enemy is almost at the barrier," Braf said, making sure that Silvas knew where the challenge lay.

"Yes, Braf, I know," Silvas replied. "Look toward the village."

Braf turned to look. Dozens of people—human, gurnetz, and esperia—had come out of their cottages, holding whatever implements they owned that might prove useful as weapons: hoes, pitchforks, axes, knives. These villagers would stand to in defense of their homes.

"Do we give them better weapons?" Maria asked.

"They'll use what they have better than they would use swords," Silvas said. "It will be up to our soldiery to make sure that they're not overmatched."

"How much time do we have?" Felix asked.

Silvas glanced in the spirit at the force approaching the barrier. "Some moments yet. We'll head east along the road to meet them." A more thorough scan showed that there was only this one force advancing on the valley. No enemies threatened the other sides. And there appeared to be no more than a token force waiting in the land of the gods to face off against Silvas. That force would not invade the valley. Silvas knew he would have to face them on their ground.

Silvas and Maria closed down the pentagram at the crossroads. Josephus rejoined the mercenaries. Silvas and Maria mounted their horses. More slowly, Felix got aboard Amelie.

"Braf, you and Bosc return to the castle quickly," Silvas said. "Your duty lies there."

"I can have six dozen warriors here in ten minutes," Braf said. "This fight does not look to be against the walls of the castle."

"Still, you belong there," Silvas said. "While you defend them, I'll know that the Seven Towers still stand."

Braf hesitated briefly, fighting the instinct to persist. Then he nodded. "Aye, lord. We'll see to the Seven Towers."

"Braf, if it comes to the last extreme, take everyone in the castle toward the south pass. Together, at least, you and Bosc will be able to break through the barrier to get everyone out."

"It won't come to that, lord," Braf said. He turned and started back toward the Seven Towers at a trot. Bosc was hard-pressed to keep up.

"Invaders come through the eastern gap," Silvas called to the villagers who had gathered.

"They what put a wall around us?" March the miller asked.

"The same," Silvas replied. "They're no longer content to isolate us. Now they would destroy us for fair."

"Not an' we kin help it," March shouted, and there were ragged cheers of encouragement from some of the other villagers, more of whom were arriving with every minute.

"Then follow me," Silvas said.

Silvas and Maria started east along the road. Felix kept his horse as close to Bay and Camiss as he could. Josephus and the other soldiers were behind Felix, too close for the former monk's comfort. He feared they might ride right over him if he was not careful. The villagers, all of them on foot, trailed after, quickly lagging behind the mounted folk. As soon as the group was formed up and moving, Josephus spurred his horse and moved forward to ride alongside Silvas and Maria.

"They will outnumber us by at least three to one," Josephus said. "I speak only of our soldiery and theirs, not of these farmers who tag along."

"Don't slight the farmers," Silvas said. "These are not such a common lot despite their trade. They have heart, and they'll not flinch at anything."

"Still, lord..."

"We use what we have. These who follow us will make the odds two to one, or less."

"The guards from the castle would have added nicely to our numbers, and with skill."

"And arrived too late had I told Bosc to bring them along," Silvas said. "No, I had good reason to leave them behind the walls of the Seven Towers. If those towers fall, a good part of my own wizardry falls as well, and we'll have need of that in the coming fight."

"Bosc and Braf alone would have added greatly to our strength," Josephus said.

"Bosc can fight with passion and skill, but this isn't his kind of fight. And Braf will fight much better for the defense of walls and towers than he could out in the open. No, my friend, they are where they belong, at least for now. This is up to us." Silvas paused, then turned his head and smiled at Josephus. "If they are needed with us later, and the Seven Towers appear secure, I may fetch them to us then. If they appear as unexpected reinforcements at a critical juncture..."

Josephus nodded. "Such devices have won battles before, though not regularly enough for full comfort. Adding them would make the numbers almost even, though I wonder how the little people will stand against mounted knights. Have you discerned yet how many of the gods are ranged against us?"

"So far, I sense only Barreth and Gioia," Silvas said. "I feel the signature of their hate. But I cannot yet be certain that there are no others with them."

"Perhaps our journey to the Shining City served its purpose, then," Maria said. "If we've goaded those two to attack before they could enlist the help of more siblings."

"Those two alone may be more than we can handle, particularly with the number of troops they've brought against us," Josephus said.

"You know of the force waiting for us in the land of the gods as well?"

Josephus nodded. "They will fight on two levels. That is the nature of their style of combat."

"I've met it before," Silvas said. "When we faced the Blue Rose, the fighting was on three levels at once, and I had to be in each place."

And I had more help then than I knew of, Silvas thought, not sharing that qualification with Josephus. He had been moved to the position of greatest need at each instant, placed in a pentagram of gold in the land of the gods without his participation in the magic, moved from place to place on the field of battle at Mecq as well. Now, he would have to sense where to put his greatest effort, and he would have to handle all of the work involved to move around.

"It's as well that there will be only two levels to this battle," Maria said, sensing what was going through Silvas's mind.

The road climbed sharply to the closed pass east of the Seven Towers. The chaotic veil that sealed in the valley looked more ominous as they neared it. The colors looked more angry, almost alive with fury. Deep swirling purples, reds, and oranges churned, along with each of the other colors of the rainbow, and each of the riders had the feeling that those eddies might quickly flare out like cyclones to engulf them.

Silvas glanced back. The villagers were a hundred yards behind the mounted soldiers, and losing ground steadily.

"They'll arrive in time," Maria said without turning to see where he was looking.

"In time to die," Josephus said.

"Some, perhaps," Silvas conceded. "But they know what they're fighting for. They accept the risk. They're not serfs going to battle only because their lord forces them."

Sparks started to fly from the barrier. Silvas and Maria reined in their mounts, a beat ahead of Josephus. Felix was slowest of all; his mare was abreast of the others before he managed to stop her. Josephus raised a hand to halt the rest of the soldiers. With shouts and gestures, he deployed the mounted troops. He set some to either side of the pass, on ground that was slightly higher but still adequate for horses. The bulk of the mounted force was brought up closer to the leaders, blocking the road, ready to meet the enemy advance head on.

"We'll meet the enemy on this side of the veil," Silvas said. "Where our power runs strongest."

"Do we fight from a pentagram?" Maria asked.

Silvas shook his head. "I think not, not here, at least. But we can raise the power of the pentagram back in the Seven Towers for what focus it might bring."

Together, Silvas and Maria took a moment to do that. In their minds, they could see the crystal lines of the device set in the floor of the conjuring chamber, and they could see the sheets of energy that rose from each of those lines. Within themselves, they found their consciousness connected to the place of power in the center of the pentagram.

"The devices of wizards," Josephus commented softly when he saw that Silvas and Maria had brought their attention back from that work.

"Are very useful at times, as even Mikel and his brethren have learned," Silvas said.

The battle music that had suffused the valley since night had been banished suddenly grew louder and more insistent, taking on a new urgency and tempo. Strident discords clashed with each other. Close to the veil, the music was almost deafening—felt more than heard, shocking through bone, forcing minds inward in an attempt to escape. Of the horses, only Bay seemed immune to the cacophony. The rest became extremely agitated, requiring close control from their riders. Felix was almost thrown from his mount. He still had only minimal ability as a rider. The soldiers were similarly assaulted by the din. Being forced to concentrate to control their horses undoubtedly helped many of them. Farther back, the villagers halted their advance. Some dropped the tools they carried as weapons to clap their hands tight over their ears, trying to shut out the awful clamor.

Finally, the enemy started to come through the barrier veil. The fabric of the barricade stretched over horses, folded tightly over the riders as they penetrated it, and eventually snapped open and shut, remaining solid behind the invaders.

"Shall we catch them before they can organize, as they emerge?" Josephus asked when the veil started to distort with the first soldiers.

Silvas started to say yes, but caught himself before the word was fully formed. "No, I sense a trap in that. We'll let them come fully into the valley before we attack."

Josephus tried to project his mind into the barrier, to attempt to discover the trap that Silvas was worried about. But the conflicting powers wrapped up in the maintenance of the veil and in this penetration were too tangled for him to unweave. He unsheathed his sword and held it straight up, reaching as high as he could. The angry colors of the veil reflected off of the blade, separating into almost pure values, as through a prism.

Neither Silvas nor Maria bothered to draw their weapons yet. Felix started to draw his blade, but stopped when he saw that his master and mistress had not yet acted.

The thought of battle terrifies me, lord, Felix projected toward Silvas.

Stand firm, my friend. Silvas turned to give Felix a reassuring smile. Use the spell of calming on yourself.

Felix blinked several times. Fear and uncertainty had almost driven his mind away from his new abilities. Quickly, only a beat from panic, Felix used the spell of calming, and then a spell of searching to find what else he had in his new lore that might help. He was desperate to find any assistance at all.

Barreth and Gioia rode just behind the front ranks of their soldiers, with more coming in columns behind them. But the sight that arrested the attention of Silvas, Maria, and Josephus was the other figure riding next to Gioia.

"I should have guessed from the music," Josephus whispered.

"Gavrien, the musician god," Silvas said.

"Gioia's twin. He would not let her face us without him," Josephus said.

"How much does he affect the balance?" Maria asked.

Silvas shook his head.

"It's hard to figure," Josephus said. "Gavrien has never been seen as war-like. But you can hear the power of his music."

As Barreth, Gioia, and Gavrien came through the veil, the volume of the battle music rose again, becoming a force so powerful that it swayed the branches of trees and blew thatch off of cottage roofs in the village. Silvas and Maria brought forward a spell and a word of power to protect their people from the music. Without that spell, the music might easily have robbed them all of their hearing.

Not a bad tactic, if they faced only mortals, Josephus said.

It says much about the mind that conceived it, Silvas replied. He took several deep breaths while he watched the forces coming through the barrier. The first ranks of soldiers had reined in, just far enough inside the veil to leave room for the rest. The mounted warriors all had weapons drawn—sword, mace, or battle-axe.

Silvas focused on Gavrien, at Gioia's left hand. Apart from the differences imposed by sex, they looked almost identical. There was virtually nothing to distinguish one face from the other, save that Gavrien's frown was much shallower. He did not appear to be driven so much by hate as his twin. Just briefly, Gavrien's eyes seemed to meet Silvas's gaze. They stared at each other for a moment. Silvas felt sadness rather than hate in the look of the musician, but he also felt determination.

When their eyes parted, the visual show overhead intensified. The colors in the sky became much richer, as if daubed directly from an artist's paint pots. The clear lines of the rainbow were totally obliterated as the colors swirled and boiled at greater speeds. The storm clouds moved in tight arcs around the perimeter of the valley and overhead, much faster than the normal clouds could ever move, while lightning flashed among them almost without pause.

Once more, pale lavender clouds appeared as calm spots in front of the chaos of the rest of the sky. Faces appeared on those clouds. This time, the other gods of the Shining City were clearly identifiable. Of the gods who had attended Carillia's memorial, only four were missing from the sky. Barreth, Gioia, and Gavrien were below, entering the valley of the Seven Towers. Mikel was merely absent.

That may be a minor victory in itself. He has no heart to watch the sport here, Silvas told Maria and Josephus.

Perhaps he will intervene on our behalf yet, Maria suggested, though the emotion she conveyed showed that she placed no high probability on that.

If we defeat these three, will we have to face the others? Josephus asked.

Not immediately, I think, Silvas replied. With luck, never.

With luck, Maria echoed. Yet that time may well come. We face these three because of those who died before.

None of the others think that Barreth and the twins will need their help, Silvas said after casting his mind toward the images in the sky. There was no deep contact between him and any of the spectator gods. He did not approach them by name, and none of them offered response to his light probe. Barreth and Gioia are not so popular with the rest that they can call for help and expect it to come, not without long negotiation before time. And Gavrien's participation is not enough to make any difference. The others are come merely to watch our anticipated destruction.

"I sense no demons or monsters," Felix said. He had been doing some little questing of his own during the wait, using new talents and knowledge. He had remained unaware of the direct conversation among his companions.

"There's little need for them here," Silvas replied. "The enemies the old gods face here wouldn't be unmanned by such displays. Besides, the gods of the Blue Rose are gone. Fighting battles with demons was more the style of those individuals."

"If Barreth and Gioia do decide they need demons, be assured they can call them into being quickly," Maria said. "Gavrien will merely follow the lead of his twin and Barreth."

"That doesn't reassure me, though I didn't seek reassurance," Felix said. "It was merely an observation. I wondered if I might be missing something of importance."

Silvas issued a mental command to March the miller, to move the armed villagers off of the road, and come forward on either side, on the rough slopes above where the enemy's horses would have to pass. You'll face less danger from being on foot there, and you might do more damage to the enemy, Silvas told him.

Against the backdrop of mad sky and strange battle music, a clear trumpet call sounded, seven notes that stood out as individual sounds—almost as individual beings. There was no horn visible in the force gathered just inside the veil. No horn could have produced sound so pure. These had to come directly from the will of Gavrien. The ranks of invading soldiery closed together as they prepared for the charge. Horses raised their heads as if they sensed that they were about to be hurled into action. Weapons were brought up to the ready.

"When they move, we move," Silvas said, speaking and projecting the message with his mind at the same time so that all of the soldiers and peasants with him would know what to do.

A second image became more intense within Silvas's mind at the same time. He saw a plain in the land of the gods, a plain with no reference points. Barreth, Gioia, and Gavrien sat there on their horses, just the three of them, at the same time that they sat on their horses among their soldiers at the verge of the valley of the Seven Towers. The squad of soldiers that had been there with Barreth and Gioia before was gone.

You see them? Silvas asked Maria.

I see them. Will we have to do combat in both arenas?

Yes, and at the same time, Silvas confirmed. Here, the gods will likely hold back. The real duel, for you and me, will take place in that other land, where they fancy themselves strongest.

Together, they surveyed the Seven Towers and the other approaches to the valley. There were still no other forces coming toward the valley from the other directions. In the Glade, Braf and all of his warriors—as well as many of the other servants—were standing to on the walls, waiting for any attack there. The drawbridge was raised. The gates were closed and barred. Cauldrons of hot oil were near the boil, ready to be poured on the heads of any enemy who tried to scale the walls. Stocks of arrows and javelins were ready for use against more distant enemies. Swords and knives were sheathed, but at hand.

Braf. Be ready for anything. At need I may transport you all here, Silvas warned, knowing that Braf would recognize his master in the message.

"Aye, lord. We'll be ready." Silvas and Maria heard the words as clearly as if the gurnetz were standing between them.

Another trumpet call sounded, three notes only this time, higher in pitch and longer in duration. The ranks of soldiers, all wearing the colors of Barreth, started their horses forward in line, moving from walk to trot in three paces, then urging their steeds into a canter.

Silvas, Maria, and Josephus started forward almost instantly with the first pace by the horses of the enemy. Felix was less than a half second behind them, and Amelie moved to put herself back in line with Camiss and Bay. The armored soldiers behind them also moved forward, until they rode just behind their leaders, not a length behind the tails of the leading horses, moving quickly to a canter.

It should have taken no more than a few seconds for the leading ranks of the opposing forces to close the gap between them. The melee should have been joined almost before any of the combatants could take further thought for what was to come. But when gods do battle, the usual laws of motion and time do not always apply, or apply equally to all.

An invisible battle, invisible to all but the few who had the power to see it, did start immediately, and the waging of that war slowed down the physical clash of soldiers on the road.

The first volleys did not catch anyone unaware. Gioia loosed the violence pent up in the mad sky against the four figures who rode in front of the rest. Storm clouds fell out of the sky as if they had suddenly turned to lead, loosing scores of lightning bolts at the ground below as if to hold themselves up. Bolts of fire in the brightest shades of red and blue and orange raged directly toward Silvas and his companions. Silvas, Maria, and Josephus responded in unison, erecting a shield that would deflect and dissipate the violence of the onslaught, shunting much of it off toward their enemies, who grounded the fire without difficulty. The rock and dirt of the road charred. More of the clouds fell toward the defenders, swirling in from every part of the sky over the valley, one following the next in a display that, by any rational reckoning of time, must have taken an hour. But in that time, the mortal soldiery on both sides detected no more than the passing of an instant.

More happened at the same time that was unknowable by the mortals who inched toward their own battle.

Barreth tried to split the ground under the feet of Bay and the horses that rode at Bay's side. Silvas and Maria met that easily, holding the earth together by force of will. Josephus and Silvas united to try to stampede the horses of Barreth's soldiers. That was almost met without difficulty, with a laugh even, by Barreth. Gioia loosed a hail of diamond-tipped steel arrows out of the sky, a torrent that would have cut through armor and ripped flesh to bloody shreds had it struck as intended. Many thousands of projectiles hurtled down at once with the force of crossbow bolts. This rain was difficult to meet. All that Silvas and Maria could do was to shunt it aside, scarcely missing some of the villagers who were moving toward positions of advantage at the sides of the road. Dozens of trees were struck by the missiles, cutting branches and trunks. A pair of trees fell, their tops bending downhill, dragging boles and branches toward lower ground. Hundreds of smaller branches were cut from their homes and toppled, some heavy enough to break other branches below them.

While Barreth and Gioia were busy loosing their weapons from behind the first rank of their soldiers, they also sat calmly in the land of the gods, calling to Silvas to come and do battle, taunting him in ways both subtle and gross. Words and images issued forth. Silvas saw himself pictured in many unflattering poses, as a rotting corpse, as a man made into a woman with a blade, and as a pet on a silken chain held by Carillia. Words spoke unflatteringly of his long liaison with the dead goddess, and made insulting references to Maria.

"Why prolong your misery?" Gioia asked. "You're going to die here anyway. Come and let it end quickly before all of these pathetic vermin of yours suffer as well."

The barbs all seemed to be aimed specifically at Silvas. The references to Maria were indirect, as if Barreth and Gioia could not be troubled to speak directly to someone too far beneath their notice.

They don't think I'm a threat, Maria mused. I don't need to be considered. Once they have destroyed you, I'll disappear like smoke in a storm.

They still don't understand how completely we are one, Silvas replied, careful to shield the thought from any possible eavesdropper. That is our greatest advantage. Do not spend it lightly.

Gavrien did not take part in the initial sparring in either venue. He added to the defenses of his brother and sister, but did not launch any offenses of his own—other than the continuing bombardment of raucous music.

Slowly, the two physical armies drew closer to one another, though few of the soldiers realized that they were going at less than a canter. Only those with at least a strong measure of divinity were aware of the double movement of time. Felix was thoroughly confused. He could sense time moving at contrary speeds, but had great difficulty relating one to the other. He braced himself for combat to start at the normal pace of the physical world, and found himself tensed without cause at the slower pace of the magical duel that was proceeding in advance of the other. He did have time, however, to delve within his new knowledge to puzzle out the differences.

"They will attempt to draw you off to the other plane just as the battle is fully joined here," Josephus told Silvas. "That is the way of such conflicts, and has been since before I was born. Barreth will not seek new tactics, and the others will follow his lead in this. They will attempt to isolate you from your supporters here with the duel in the other place. Then, when the bulk of your mortal supporters have been destroyed, it will be that much easier to deal with the few of us who remain."

Yes, that is what I expect from them, Silvas replied. But I do not exclude the possibility of surprises.

Gioia, perhaps, might delight in novelty, Josephus conceded, but Barreth appears to be taking the lead.

Silvas and Maria linked more actively to the pentagram in the Seven Towers, and used the flow of power there to direct a blow against the forces of the invaders from behind. It was as if an inner covering to the veil surrounding the valley fell, cracking into plates of various sizes as it tumbled on the horses and riders, scaring some of the riders, and momentarily panicking many of the horses. But the disruption was not major. Only two riders were unhorsed, and the remaining effects were quickly countered. Riders brought their mounts back under control. Barreth warded off any additional pieces of falling sky.

You caught them unawares, Josephus noted with some surprise.

Only because they don't give us full credit for what we are, Silvas replied.

He spared no more time than that. Barreth and Gioia, and perhaps even Gavrien, would strike quickly in response to Silvas's foray. The image of the gods waiting in their own land pressed more vividly on Silvas's mind, as they tried to draw him there by force of will. The faces of the spectator gods grew larger in the sky, as if they were coming closer, the better to see the denouement.

The ground started to shake violently. This was more than the earlier attempt to split the earth under the defenders, or the tremors that had accompanied the valley's initial contraction. These tremors were deep and strong, spread widely. For an instant, the spells that Silvas and Maria had cast to stop the contraction of the valley slipped. All around the edges of the valley, the land started to crunch inward again, slowly but with a persistence that required the almost total concentration of Silvas, Maria, and Josephus to halt it. The shaking continued even after they had halted the contractions again.

While they were involved in that, the dual streams of time seemed to alter, to move closer together. The two armies drew quickly nearer each other. Three comets of black fire—blazing balls trailed by long, luminous trails—shot forward, one each from Barreth, Gioia, and Gavrien, aimed to converge on Silvas and his companions in the front rank. Silvas used a wizard's spell to bounce the balls of fire back, shattering them to shower the army of the invaders with flame.

Then, while Barreth and the twins sought to protect their soldiers from the ricocheting black fire, Silvas and Maria laid their power on the trembling of the earth and raised a physical barrier directly in front of the invading troops, too close for the front rank to stop or turn aside. Horses ran into the projecting dike of rock and dirt at speed. Riders were flung from the saddle, some up onto the higher mound, others below the hoofs of flailing animals. Several of the soldiers were trampled—killed or too badly injured to fight. The confusion caused by the collisions, and by the hurried efforts of the other ranks to avoid the mess, fully disrupted the orderly procession of the invaders. For a moment, Barreth, Gioia, and Gavrien had to turn much of their attention to regrouping their forces.

The twin streams of time flowed farther apart again, but the armies were almost within striking distance of each other.

Now! Silvas ordered the villagers at either side of the road. Do what you can to disrupt them.

At the same time, Silvas and Maria reached back to the Seven Towers with their minds to bring Braf and his warriors into place. They put these reinforcements close enough to the enemy that the dual stream of time was no barrier. They were almost on top of the invaders, where they could strike at the first rank of Barreth's troops, the ones still fighting to recover from the shock of colliding with the earth.

Braf and his fighters started the butchery.

No armor was proof against the knives of the gurnetz and esperia. With many of the armored invaders on the ground or struggling to get to their feet, they were virtually helpless, especially against the lupine ferocity of the gurnetz. A knife through open visor, or in the joint between helmet and gorget, could find vulnerable flesh all too easily.

Time snapped together suddenly, and the melee was joined in full.

In the confines of the mountain pass, it was impossible to hold regular lines during the battle. The opposing forces flowed together as soldiers found targets for their weapons. The ridge that Silvas and his companions had raised across the road was a continuing obstacle. In some ways, it was an advantage for the defenders, allowing many to hurtle down on the enemy, but that tactic was hazardous for their mounts, and for the warriors on foot. At the sides of the road, the villagers moved to attack any invaders they could reach, particularly those who were reeling from other assaults, or wounded.

Silvas, Maria, and Josephus sought to fight their way through the crowd to close directly with Barreth, Gioia, and Gavrien, but those gods strove equally to keep apart, always maneuvering to keep soldiers between them, while they tried to pull Silvas to them in the land of the gods.

I will not go alone, Silvas informed Josephus. Maria was linked completely with Silvas, as she had been since the start of the close combat. I'll carry the two of you with me, at least.

Though seeming merely to yield to the pressure exerted by Barreth and the twin gods, Silvas actively projected himself and his companions to that other place—though they also remained in the mountain pass, continuing the fight there.

In the land of the gods, the sky was clear. The sun was bright and warm. The only clouds in the sky were soft white mats against which the faces of the spectator gods were limned—white clouds instead of the lavender ones over the valley of the Seven Towers. There was a gentle breeze flowing across the plain, carrying the scent of summer flowers and ripening grain, though neither garden nor farmer's field was visible. The vista was of an open plain, wild but not chaotic. The summer grass had brown tops but was lushly green beneath.

Silvas and Josephus emerged as close together as they had been in the pass leading toward the border of the valley of the Seven Towers. Maria, however, was off at some distance, a hundred yards or more from the others, behind Barreth, Gioia, and Gavrien. Maria sat quietly on Camiss, making no movement that might draw the attention of her enemies, holding Camiss as still as if she had wrapped the horse in a spell.

As always, time ran differently in the land of the gods than it did in the mortal world. While men fought and died in the valley of the Seven Towers, gods and demigods stared at each other across the plain on the other level. Josephus and Silvas were no more than fifteen yards from their foes. Barreth, Gioia, and Gavrien stared at them, casting divine power directly against them, power that was met and discharged by Silvas and Josephus, then returned in kind as they sought to chart the extent of each other's power. There was a ritual-like quality to the opening exchanges, as if no one truly expected any of these early movements to offer any decisive outcome.

"I know you," Gioia said during one brief lull, directing the statement at Josephus. "You were once the plaything of my sister Carillia."

"I was once the captain of her guard," Josephus replied. "I know you and your brothers here."

"You have no place in this conflict," Gioia said. "You have our permission to withdraw."

"I wish I could offer the same civility to you," Josephus said. "For my part, I would allow each of you to withdraw, but my permission must be dependent on that of my lord, Silvas, the proper heir to Carillia."

"We withdraw our permission," Gioia snapped. "You will die with this other bastard."

"That is yet to be determined," Josephus said.

Silvas had seemed no more than a passive spectator to the exchange, though he had been deep in magics the entire time, drawing on his store of wizard's lore to erect defenses and prepare offensive strokes. Barreth and Gioia seemed to know only the blunt application of power, and Gavrien still did nothing more than support his sister's strokes. The way of the Trimagister also taught the more subtle applications of power, and Silvas concentrated on those.

Barreth glanced to the side and down, as if he were looking at the other engagement somewhere below them. Silvas spared an instant of his attention to check on the progress of that other battle as well. His consciousness meshed briefly with the consciousness of his figure on the road inside the valley of the Seven Towers. The slaughter there was proceeding apace. There were casualties on both sides. In the pass, Silvas, Maria, and Josephus were still attempting to reach Barreth, Gioia, and Gavrien, and the latter trio still managed to avoid that meeting.

"We will settle this here," Barreth announced, as if he were clearly aware of what was passing through Silvas's mind.

"Here or there, it matters little," Silvas replied, affecting a disinterested confidence that could not help but give even these haughty opponents an instant's pause.

In the battle below, Felix was unaware that the three divines at his side were more occupied on another plane than they were within his vision. The former monk was caught up in the thrill of battle, feeling the bloodlust of combat for the first time. He met each opponent with a prayer, and with a quick spell that brought skill to his arm and knowledge to his thoughts. But the lore of the Trimagister, as new as it was to Felix, could not totally balance his thin frame. He could support himself with magic to the extent of not being an easy mark for larger and stronger opponents. He could not become a paladin, able to win through any opposition.

The total confusion of the melee brought Felix an excitement he had never experienced before. It seemed akin to the religious ecstasy of some of the notable saints he had studied in his years of monastic life. But he decided that he could worry about that, if it called for worry, later. While the battle lasted, he reveled in the experience, even in the danger.

Braf Goleg did not concern himself with any thoughts apart from the efficient disposal of his master's enemies, and staying alive to continue that work for as long as possible. In the heat of battle, Braf trusted to the training and instinct of his warriors. He was not the sort of leader to hold back and leave the fighting to others. There had been few opportunities for Braf to unleash the feral side of gurnetz nature in his long service to Silvas. He intended to make full use of this chance.

March the miller leaped from a stony prominence onto the horse of one of the invaders, landing behind the armored rider. March wrapped his left arm around the head of his foe and slit the man's throat with his knife. But he did not release his grip in time to avoid being carried to the ground with the dead invader. A horse's hoof struck March's head, and he was unaware of his last moments, being trampled slowly to death in the confusion.

One death among scores.

In the land of the gods, Silvas and Josephus used every weapon at their command. The gods they faced were more powerful than Josephus, and more experienced than Silvas. Only Gavrien appeared to be out of place on the battlefield. His interests had never run to personal combat, and he had only rarely taken part in the direction of military affairs.

Only briefly did the two groups actually close and fight with swords, a moment of dueling before they moved backward—as if by mutual agreement—to resume the pure battle of minds. This contest was vastly different than the skirmish that Silvas and Maria had fought against Barreth and Gioia in the Shining City. This was more intense, utterly violent in a way that beggared description.

Silvas's stock of wizardry kept the battle even for a time past time, but could not turn the tide against Barreth and the twins, Gioia and Gavrien. Power and subtlety balanced each other to a fine point. Weapons of brute force alternated with insidious attacks against the inner core of mind and spirit, deadly darts of pure energy, or drains that sought to sap the life force without notice. Whirlwinds swirled around them, deadly cones of force. Lightnings flared in the land of the gods as well as in the valley of the Seven Towers. On the higher plane, the lightning appeared normal, but it was no less deadly than the brilliantly colored bolts in the pass near the veil that hid Silvas's valley from the rest of the world.

Bay handled himself easily. All of the magics and brute applications of power could not faze him unless they struck him directly, and it mattered not how long the contest continued. Bay's strength would not flag. But Josephus was mounted on a lesser steed, nearly the equal of Bay in size, but without Bay's special gifts. He tried, and when a blast of power hit close, he shied away, often near the edge of panic. All of the calming his master could offer scarcely sufficed to hold him under control.

Maria remained apart from the fray, cloaked from the enemy as well as she could manage, though her linkage with Silvas was so complete that in the spirit and in the mind there was no separation at all. They were totally one, fully aware of each other, but presenting no duality that might remind their foes that she was there behind them, another consciousness, another power.

Maria looked up into the sky, her eyes drawn by the pure golden color of the sun over the land of the gods, a perfect orb shedding light that seemed to be too ideal to be real. She did not focus directly on the sun, remembering as if firsthand the experience Silvas had undergone as a young boy, when he had looked into a star and nearly lost his eyes.

Such power in a light, she thought. But Maria did not lose track of what was happening on both levels of the battle. Her mind was drawn by the image of the glowing crystal of the pentagram back in the workshop of the Glade, and the memory of pentagrams that Silvas had drawn at various times to work his magics.

And then Maria saw the end of this battle.

She reached into the sky over the land of the gods with her mind and laid hold of the golden fabric of the sun. With a touch as deft as if she were doing fine needlework, Maria concentrated the light and brought it to a narrow focus, a delicately spun thread of energy that reached down to touch the ground.

Maria used that thread of sunshine to scribe a golden pentagram around the other divines on the field in the land of the gods. Silvas and Josephus, and their horses, were in the central pentagon, the seat of power. Barreth, Gioia, and Gavrien, and their steeds, were in one of the side triangles—not in one of the points of the star, but in one of the power voids between them. The pentagram was large enough, and so finely drawn, that neither Barreth nor the twins seemed to notice that it had been drawn around them, and most likely they would not recognize immediately that they were in one of the weak segments.

Silvas and Josephus were aware of the pentagram, and where they were in it. But Josephus had little experience of such magics.

Slowly, Maria forced the outer side of the pentagram behind Barreth and the twins to fold in toward the center. As the threatening line moved closer to them, those three gods moved forward, toward the apex of their collapsing triangle, but without being aware of why they were being forced toward Silvas and Josephus.

As the distance between the two groups of gods narrowed, the fury of their fighting increased. Reaction time disappeared. Each stroke had to be met as it was loosed, and the fury of it drove all of the horses, except Bay, almost to madness. Power crackled and snapped. Great heat rose around the combatants, and the air itself seemed to waver.

Finally, there was too little room for Barreth, Gioia, Gavrien, and their horses within their diminishing section of the pentagram. They were forced forward again, into immediate peril. The three of them drew swords, unable to prevent being drawn within sword's reach of Silvas and Josephus.

At the same time, Josephus moved forward, partly to close with the enemy, but mostly because his horse had started to spook again. Josephus and Gioia crossed swords over the line of power dividing the core of the pentagram from its outer reaches.

The battle ended then, in an instant of consuming flame. Gioia seemed to erupt into a miniature sun. Josephus was thrown back, against Silvas, and then sank to the ground at the wizard's feet, still wholly within the central section of the pentagram. Gavrien, attempting to come to his twin's relief, was caught up just as quickly. Barreth was thrown into the line of power just behind Gavrien, and he too was caught up in the blaze. The sun seemed to touch the ground in the land of the gods.

Silvas could not close his eyes in time to fully avoid the flaring light. Images danced on the inside of his eyelids until Maria took control of his damaged optics and restored his sight.

They were back on the road at the edge of the valley of the Seven Towers then, together, looking down at the smoldering remains of Barreth, Gioia, and Gavrien. Josephus, too, was on the ground. The armor covering his right arm had melted and fused against the skin beneath it. Outrageous pain was visible in Josephus's face, but he was a demigod as well as a warrior. He would survive.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

There was near silence on the road near the edge of the valley. The maddening battle music had come to an abrupt end. A few horses neighed yet in panic, or whimpered in pain. A few of the wounded combatants moaned. But most of the fighting had ended. Following the overthrow of Barreth and the twin gods, most of their surviving troops quickly surrendered. Those who did not fell to the weapons of the defenders.

On the road at the edge of the valley of the Seven Towers, the figures of the three invading gods had suddenly erupted in flames, without any indication of what had started the conflagration. The gods and their horses had burned. Some of the troops closest to them had also been touched by a fire that could not be extinguished, even by rolling in the dirt.

The faces of the spectator gods vanished from the sky. The lavender clouds on which they had been projected faded to nothing. Then the chaotic sky of the barrier dome cracked—shattered—and fell into oblivion. No pieces of it reached the ground. All that remained were the rainbow hues of the extra layers that Silvas and Maria had added to the veil. The morning sun was visible, but nearing the zenith.

"At least night will come again to the valley," Maria said. She pulled the helmet off her head and let it drop to the ground. Then she dismounted to help Josephus.

Silvas nodded. He stared at the bodies on the ground. Barreth, Gioia, and Gavrien were rapidly being consumed by a flameless fire, smoking down to nothing but a memory. Their horses and armor had already been eaten by the fire. Not even bones remained of the unfortunate animals.

"Lord, is it over?" Felix asked. It was enough to wrest Silvas's eyes from the dead divines. He turned to Felix. The former monk's sword was red with blood. His helmet had been knocked from his head, and his left ear was bleeding.

"It's over," Silvas replied. With his attention finally engaged, Silvas took a moment to scan the rest of the battlefield. More than half of the invaders had fallen in the fight, killed or seriously wounded. The number of downed defenders appeared to be somewhat greater. The peasants who had rallied to the defense of their homes had suffered most of all. Few had escaped injury. More than half of them were dead, including March the miller.

Braf limped over toward Silvas and Maria. He had sheathed the two short blades he used in combat. "What do we do with the enemies who survive, lord?"

"Turn them out of our valley," Silvas said. "Send them back toward the land of the gods. Let them take what future they can find there. What of our folk?"

"Too many dead. Too many injured," Braf said.

"You're hurt yourself," Maria said.

"Not so bad, my lady. 'Twill heal soon enough."

"Immediately," Silvas said. Within their minds, Silvas and Maria echoed the words of healing, not just for Braf but for all who had been injured in the battle but survived—friend and foe. Braf tested his leg gingerly, then balanced on it, and nodded. Felix felt for his ear. Blood had crusted over the cut, but the cut itself was gone.

"Form up the invaders who survive, Braf," Silvas said. "Disarm them and tell them they're going home."

"Aye, lord." Braf hurried off to do that, testing his newly healed leg. There was no twinge of pain or discomfort left.

The surviving villagers moved toward Silvas and Maria. Most had a glazed look to their eyes. Some had completely vacant expressions and seemed not to realize that they were walking, or where they were going, merely following the others around them. All they knew to do was to collect around their lord, to wait for him to tell them what to do next.

The mercenaries and the guards from the Seven Towers moved to see to the prisoners. It was the work of some minutes to sort everything out. There were quite a number of spare horses now, animals who had lost their riders. Several of the esperia started to round them up, to add them to the stable of the Glade.

"There are bodies to deal with as well," Maria noted.

"To be buried with honor," Silvas replied. He looked down once more. Nothing remained of the gods who had invaded. The road was charred in the outlines of three bodies, but that was all that remained of Barreth, Gioia, and Gavrien.

"This time there'll be no bodies to carry home to the Shining City," Silvas said.

Even gods can find their minds numbed by combat. Though the fighting was over, Silvas and Maria sat in place, hardly thinking beyond the demands of the moment. Their expressions were perhaps not quite as vacant as those of the villagers who waited for instruction, but there was no great difference. Maria lifted her head finally and idly scanned the sky, noting how pale the rainbow hues now appeared. She became fixated on that, looking toward the north end of the valley, where the lines of color were narrowest, coming together.

"It seems that the barrier hiding our valley is broken," she mumbled eventually. "Our people may come and go as they wish."

Silvas looked with her then, trying to force his mind back to speed. "I think that perhaps a barrier is a good idea, a barrier of our own, one that will defend us, and hide us from unfriendly eyes." His voice was slow, lethargic.

"A barrier that our people may penetrate at need, though," Maria said, picking up the thought and continuing as if Silvas were still speaking. "One that will allow friendly outsiders to find us as well. We don't want to be completely isolated."

"Once the soldiers of Barreth and the others are on the road back to the Shining City," Silvas concluded, his voice showing a little more energy. It was another quarter hour before he had put those soldiers on that road and seen them clear of the rainbow curtain that covered the valley. Behind them, the glowing road disappeared, as Silvas and Maria sought to erase it permanently, hoping to close off any easy passage.

Two large graves were dug, by the thought of Silvas and Maria, one at either side of the road. In the first, the dead invaders were laid. In the second, the dead of the valley were laid to rest, after their families had time to come from village or castle. The bodies were laid in neat rows, and headstones marked each individual's resting place. The dead defenders were marked by name and their dates. The dead invaders could know no such luxury. They remained nameless, but each place was marked. Their names might be lost, but their numbers would be known to history.

The sun had moved past the zenith before Silvas and Maria led everyone away from the place that would forever-more be known as Battle Pass. The vacant numbness that had followed the battle had started to lift, but there remained a heaviness of spirit that Silvas and Maria shared with their dependents. Too many had died.

The veil over the valley of the Seven Towers had been renewed and strengthened, imbued with the new conditions that Silvas and Maria had decided on. The roads had been smoothed over where they had been wrinkled by the earlier contractions of the valley.

The dead had been buried. Felix had spoken the words of the Church over their bodies. He had walked among the families of the dead, offering what comfort he could give. It was not enough, as he quickly admitted, but it was all he had to offer.

Silvas and Maria led the procession down from the pass, going first to the village. They spent some time seeing to the survivors of the battle and the families of the dead. "You will lack no help we can give," Silvas promised them. "We cannot resurrect the dead, but we can do much to help the living."

Then the procession moved south to the Glade.

"The Seven Towers still stand," Maria observed as they crossed the drawbridge and rode through the gateway.

For how long? Silvas asked, the images of the dead souring his outlook. Will we be faced with one challenge after another until a coalition of the old gods finally manages to destroy us?

Perhaps we'll have time now to find a better solution, Maria suggested. There must be a way.

—|—

The afternoon seemed to pass with incredible slowness after the chaos of battle. Horses were cared for. There was a meal in the great hall. Silvas spoke to the people of the Seven Towers, though not at any great length. Then he and Maria withdrew to the levels above the great hall. They closed down the pentagram in the conjuring chamber, then retreated to their apartments to bathe and relax after the labors of night and morning.

After a time, Josephus joined them. His sleeveless tunic showed that the skin of his right arm was pink where the steel had melted against it, but there were no blisters or other signs of the horrible injury he had suffered. In only a few days, even the skin would have regained its natural suntanned color. Only the memory would remain.

At first, they talked of the battle, and what might remain to be done in its wake. But none of them wanted to think hard on the fighting—the dying—so the talk gradually turned to other topics and, in time, faded to only an occasional remark to punctuate a comfortable silence.

It was nearly time for the evening meal, scheduled somewhat later than usual, before the three felt the attempt at contact. They were in the small sitting room near the rear of the keep.

A mind reached out to them in a questioning touch, seeking invitation. Together, Silvas and Maria acknowledged the touch and issued the invitation. The room split before them and Mikel stood there, still in his palace, but facing Silvas and Maria. They stood as well, moving forward until they were just on their side of the dividing line. Josephus remained seated.

"You look troubled," Maria said with some hint of sympathy in her voice. The words, and the tone, surprised her, but she did not attempt to modify, either.

Mikel looked at her, as he never had on their earlier meetings, with depth, as if seeing her as an equal for the first time.

"I thought you deserved to know what has passed in the Citadel since the battle's end," Mikel said, his voice subdued.

"We did not seek battle," Silvas said, gentling his words somewhat, but unable to completely conceal all of the emotion he felt.

"I know," Mikel said, shifting his gaze to Silvas.

"Nor do we seek further confrontation," Silvas added. "But we will meet any challenge that comes."

"There will be no new challenge, at least not for the foreseeable future," Mikel said. "That's what I came to tell you. There is no welcome for you in the Shining City, but none of my brothers and sisters stand ready to seek you out again. No one arms to avenge Barreth, Gioia, and Gavrien. No one talks of purifying our race by destroying you."

Then he was gone.

"Will we really have peace?" Maria asked.

Silvas hesitated, then shrugged. "For a time, perhaps. With luck, for a good, long time."

"There will be peace," Josephus said, his tones very positive. He stood and crossed to the others. "None of the remaining gods will start a fight. The strongest voices now will be those of Maentus and Sonolorem, and violence is alien to both." He shrugged. "Besides, we will grow stronger in the Shining City. You saw how people answered your call for help in that plaza. Now, more will come to you. The old gods are not so popular in their city as they might think."

"I can't see us living in that place," Maria said.

"Perhaps not, but some contact, some establishment, and occasional visits," Josephus said.

"There is always the sign of the Eye," Silvas said after a moment. He nodded to himself. "I think the landlord would welcome our trade, if not too often."

Maria smiled. The sign of the Eye. How poetic.

Table of Contents

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR