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Black Trillium by Marion 
Zimmer Bradley, Julian 
May and Andre Norton 
PROLOGUE 
From the Peninsular Chronicle 
Of Lampiar, Late Savant of Labornok 
In the Eighth Hundred after those of Ruwenda came to rule over the swamp 
wilderness called the Mazy Mire (though not completely, for they never mastered 
the intractable Oddlings), legend and history both awoke to record one of those 
great changes which now and then alter the very balance of the world. 
The civilized nations of the Peninsula —most especially we of neighboring 
Labornok — looked upon the wetland plateau of Ruwenda as a frustrating and 
vexing backwater, seeming to exist merely as a thorn in the flesh of more 
energetic and progressive peoples. In truth, Ruwenda was not at all a properly 
organized kingdom, owing to its failure to establish suzerainty over the peculiar 
aborigines dwelling within its claimed borders. Instead, the Ruwendian kings 
complaisantly allowed lawless enclaves of these so-called Oddlings to persist, 
offtimes to the detriment of their legitimate subjects and the general peace and 

good order of the realm. 
Of these aboriginal tribes, the bog-trotting little Nyssomu and the closely related 
but more aloof Uisgu (quite nonhuman and therefore clearly designed by Nature 
to serve their betters) were dealt with by both the crown and the merchant class of 
Ruwenda as putative equals, although no vows of fealty were ever demanded of 
them. Indeed, certain groups of Nyssomu were frequent visitors to the famed 
Ruwenda Citadel, and a few of the uncouth beings were actually accepted as 
upper servants of the royal court! 
Two other Oddling tribes, the mountain-loving Vispi and the half-civilized 
Wyvilo of the southern rainforests, were inhospitable to humankind but deigned to 
trade with Ruwendian merchants on a regular basis. On the other hand, the 
shadowy Glismak, whose jungle haunts bordered those of the Wyvilo, were at this 
time seldom encountered by humans. They were vicious savages who delighted in 
the massacre of their Oddling neighbors. The last and largest tribe of Oddlings, 
the abominable Skritek, also called the Drowners, lived in most parts of the 
swamp, but were particularly numerous in the vast and noisome marshlands south 
of Ruwenda Citadel, as well as the Thorny Hell situated in the north-central 
region. These fiends of the Mazy Mire were notorious waylayers of caravans and 
attackers of isolated human manors and homesteads, either drowning their victims 
or torturing them with unspeakable brutality before consigning them to death in 
the quick-mires. Yet king followed king on the throne of Ruwenda, making no 
attempt to clear the land of that menace. 
It was often whispered that the wetland rot had weakened both the minds and 
bodies of the human Ruwendians. Their rulers were a happy-go-lucky lot, utter 
strangers to proper feudal discipline. When the scholarly but obstinate Krain III 
ascended the throne, his manifest shortsightedness in dealing with his neighbor 
nations made it clear that the time was approaching when more enlightened and 
progressive methods would have to be applied to a festering situation, over which 
our own great kingdom of Labornok had stewed for years. 
The unfortunate fact was that Labornok needed what these feckless and inefficient 
neighbors had to offer in trade. Our woodlands having long since been cut down 
and converted into farmland, we were dependent upon the Ruwendian rainforests 
not only for ship timber to sustain our thriving maritime commerce, but also for 
fine woods to enhance and furnish the stately buildings at Derorguila. Also, by a 

heartless caprice of nature, the Labornoki slopes of the impenetrable Ohogan 
Mountains were virtually barren of useful minerals; while the Ruwendian side of 
the range contained lodes of gold and platinum, as well as many kinds of valuable 
gemstones, which were scoured out by the torrents and deposited here and there in 
the mountains. The precious metals and crystals were haphazardly gathered by the 
Vispi Oddlings, who traded them to the Uisgu; and eventually they passed into the 
hands of the human Ruwendians. Other trade goods of the perverse little kingdom 
included valuable medicinal swamp herbs and kitchen spices, worrarn pelts and 
fedok skins, and certain curious ancient artifacts which the Oddlings procured 
from ruined cities deep in the most inaccessible reaches of the Mires. 
Even in the best of times, commerce between Labornok and Ruwenda was a 
frustrating — occasionally perilous — business. More than a few of our glorious 
kings, champing on the regal mustaches in fury over some piece of Ruwendian 
insolence, had demanded that our generals devise a scheme for conquering the 
smaller nation. But it is difficult to invade a country to which there is only one 
door — the steep and narrow Vispir Pass through the Ohogans, guarded by wellplaced 
Ruwendian forts. Those Labornoki kings of melancholy memory who 
made the attempt did not return alive. 
Surviving members of their defeated armies told tales of demonic freezing fogs, 
whirlwinds from which inhuman eyes seemed to glare, unseasonable mountain 
storms with snow, sleet, and hail, monstrous rock slides, fulminating murrains that 
struck down the war-fronials, and other calamities that had assailed them. It 
seemed almost as though supernatural forces were arrayed in opposition to the 
invasions. But even if the guardposts in the pass could have been taken, the 
sodden morass beyond presented an even more formidable obstacle to an invading 
force. 
As every Labornoki Master-Trader knew only too well. 
This audacious and free-wheeling guild of merchants, which passed its franchise 
and certain life-protecting incantations from father to son, included the only 
citizens of our kingdom who knew the secret route into the heart of Ruwenda. It 
was suspected by more than one Labornoki general, infuriated and frustrated in 
futile attempts to pry coherent directions or even a useful map out of the 
uncooperative Masters, that dark magic had been evoked to lock their lips during 
questioning. Eventually, however, the route would be revealed through the craft of 

the mighty sorcerer Orogastus, about whom more anon. But in earlier days the 
Masters kept their secret well, and enjoyed not only a prosperous monopoly but 
also a sizable measure of political power. 
A typical caravan led by four Master-Traders was small, consisting of no more 
than twenty volumnial drawn wagons and perhaps fifty men. After giving the hillfort 
commanders certain passwords, the Masters would lead the wagon-train into 
the Mire along an unmarked and treacherous elevated roadway. Only a few 
isolated places between the mountainous borderlands and the Ruwenda Citadel 
two hundred leagues hence were blessed with solid, unquakable land. The largest 
dry region, lying east of the Trade Road, was the Dylex Country, where polders or 
diked and drained fields contained well-cultivated farms, pastures, and scattered 
townships. Virk, the largest of these, engaged in the simple refining of minerals 
brought in by the Uisgu or Nyssomu Oddlings and was a secondary center of the 
Ruwenda gem and precious metal trade. By far the greater portion of this 
commerce, however, took place at the Citadel, the capital of Ruwenda, which 
perched upon a sizable rock dome upthrust in the midst of the Mazy Mire. 
Once at the Citadel, Master-Traders paid the royal road-tax. (They also paid a 
capriciously variable wholesale goods tax upon departure, one of the great sore 
points in Ruwendian-Labornoki relations.) Then they were free to sell their own 
merchandise in the great Citadel Market, after which they might proceed to 
commodity exchanges dealing in minerals or timber. The latter was obtained by 
Ruwendian agents from the forest-dwelling Wyvilo Oddlings. Masters in search 
of more exotic trade goods would travel some one hundred leagues further, via 
Ruwendian punt or flatboat, up the sluggish Lower Mutar River to its confluence 
with the Vispar, where lay the ruined city of Trevista — and in its plazas, the 
fabulous trading fairs of the swamp Oddlings. These fairs were held only during 
the dry seasons, since the monsoons roaring up from the Southern Sea otherwise 
made passage of the bogland watercourses impossible. Only the Oddlings 
ventured about the Mazy Mire then, by ways they knew and methods they had 
perfected many hundreds ago. 
Trevista remains one of the great mysteries of our Peninsula. It is of unimaginable 
age, and breathtakingly beautiful even in its present state of near-total 
dilapidation. The labyrinthine canals, crumbling bridges, and majestic ruined 
buildings are overgrown with a profusion of exquisite jungle flowers. Enough of 
the original urban design remains to demonstrate that Trevista's builders possessed 

a sophistication and a technical expertise far above that of the most advanced 
Peninsular civilization. 
There is speculation by those interested in such matters that most of Ruwenda was 
once a huge glacier-fed lake dotted with islands that are now mere elevations in 
the swamp. Many of these are known to be crowned by similar ruins. Even the 
Oddlings are unable to account for the ancient cities, saying only that they were 
built by the Vanished Ones, and existed when their ancestors came into the swamp 
country. Ruwenda Citadel itself, a veritable mountain of intricate stone walls, 
bastions, keeps, towers, and interconnected buildings, also dates from remote 
antiquity and is said to have been the seat of whatever primordial rulers the 
Peninsula then bowed to. 
The more isolated ruins, accessible only to the aborigines, were the source of the 
most coveted trade items —antique art-objects and mysterious small mechanisms 
which brought very high prices, not only from collectors in Labornok, but also 
from would-be students of occult knowledge in the farthest reaches of the known 
world. This trade, for reasons that will become plain, languished after Crown 
Prince Voltrik became heir to the throne of Labornok and set in motion events that 
would bring about the long-awaited conquest of our pestilential little southern 
neighbor. 
Voltrik was forced to wait a long time for his crown, since his uncle, King 
Sporikar, lived well over his one hundred allotted years. During this time of 
waiting, Voltrik diverted himself by planning the acquisition of yet another crown, 
and also traveled widely. From one such expedition to the lands north of Raktum 
he returned with a new companion who was to provide him with the key to 
Ruwenda — the sorcerer Orogastus. 
Voltrik was then in his eight-and-thirtieth year, a man of formidable physical 
presence, black-bearded and granitically handsome, with a temper as 
unpredictable and shocking as a thunderclap. His first wife, the beloved Princess 
Janeel, died giving birth to Voltrik's only son, Antar. His second wife, Shonda, 
perished under suspicious circumstances while on a lothok hunt, having failed to 
conceive after ten years of marriage. The frivolous Princess Narice, his third wife, 
suffered the penalty for high treason after attempting to run away with an equerry. 
She and her paramour were tumbled together in a large sack of thorn-fleece, and 
then burnt alive. 

The sorcerer Orogastus became Voltrik's chief adviser and before long 
commanded respect and fear throughout all Labornok. It was he who urged the 
Crown Prince to bide his time before taking a fourth bride, and possess his soul in 
patience if he wished to see his great ambitions fulfilled. 
(Prudently, the magician did not disclose to the impetuous Prince that he would 
have to wait another seventeen years for the doddering King Sporikar to die.) 
In the meantime, Orogastus established a stronghold high on the northern slope of 
the Ohogan Mountains on the flank of Mount Brom, where he set about to perfect 
his magical arts. All unusual antique artifacts procured by the Master-Traders of 
Labornok from the swamp Oddlings now came directly into his hands, for a vision 
had hinted to him that enormous power might be tapped through certain of the 
curious devices. Orogastus later took as assistants three sinister individuals who 
were known as his Voices. They served as the sorcerer's acolytes and agents, and 
were feared very nearly as much as their master. 
On the opposite slope of the ice-crowned Ohogan Mountains, in the Ruwendian 
foothills where the River Nothar's precipitous descent eased and the watercourse 
broadened, lay the home of another occult practitioner. She was the Archimage 
Binah, also called the White Lady, who had lived for untold years in the ruins of 
Noth, one of the ancient cities of the Vanished Ones. She was little more than a 
legend to the human population of Ruwenda, whose common people never saw 
her. Yet they persistently invoked her name in times of trouble, and had revered 
her as the guardian of their land from time immemorial. 
Only the Oddlings and the Ruwendian royalty knew the truth that lay behind the 
legend: It was Binah´s benevolent enchantment, not the difficult terrain, the 
human fortifications, inclement weather, nor natural disasters, that had kept the 
Mazy Mire safe from would-be despoilers. But the weight of years bows down the 
wielders of magic even as it does those who do not exercise the powers. During 
the reign of Krain III the undetected safeguards Binah had set up around Ruwenda 
became increasingly more difficult for her to maintain. And as her faculties 
waned, those of the evil Orogastus became stronger and stronger. 
There came a time when Queen Kalanthe of Ruwenda was finally brought to 
childbed after many years of barrenness, and all was not going well. King Krain 

knelt beside his stricken wife and called upon powers long near forgotten, which 
he had not named since childhood. Out of the night-murk which hung thick and 
stagnant over the great swamp came a bird so immense that, with its wings spread, 
it could have covered most of the Citadel's High Tower roof. Beyond a doubt it 
was one of the awesome lammergeiers that haunted the most inaccessible crags of 
the Ohogan Range. From its back the Archimage Binah dismounted, and those on 
guard and those in service in the halls were awestruck and fell to their knees at the 
sight of her. In appearance she seemed to be only an aged woman, clad in a silverbordered 
white cloak that changed with movement to that pale blue sometimes 
seen in snow shadows; but there was something about her that muted all question, 
and it was unthinkable that anyone should try to stop or hinder her as she hurried 
to the bedside of the Queen. 
Those who stood close to the suffering lady now wept and sighed and prayed 
aloud, for it was plain that Kalanthe was unable to bring forth the new life that 
struggled for existence within her, and was nigh unto death. Her beautiful russet 
hair was darkened and plastered to her head by the sweat of her ordeal, and she 
gripped King Krain's hand as one drowning might cling to a rope. 
Drawing near, the Archimage said: "Be at peace. All will yet be well. Kalanthe, 
dear daughter, look at me." 
The Queen's eyes opened wide and her moaning ceased. Poor Krain did not want 
to leave his wife's side, but a single gesture from the Archimage filled him with 
sudden hope and he stepped back, motioning the courtiers and the Queen's women 
to make room for the visitor. 
The royal midwife, who was an Oddling named Immu, stood by holding a goblet 
containing a potion of herbs, which she had not been able to get the Queen to 
swallow. The Archimage Binah beckoned the little nonhuman female to come 
forward and raise the cup, and then there was revealed a great wonder. All who 
were in the room, even the dying Queen, uttered cries of amazement, for Binah 
held over the goblet a Black Trillium plant — root, leaves, and a single tripartite 
blossom—a fabled swampherb so rare that not even the palace Oddlings could say 
where or if it still grew. Yet this same plant was the badge of the Ruwendian royal 
house, and among the most precious of the crown jewels were certain pieces of 
honey-amber, which had embedded in them minute fossil specimens of the bloom, 
no larger than the head of a pin. 

But this flower was not small. It was fully as wide as the palm of the Archimage's 
hand and of a rich black deeper than silk velvet. Binah plucked the trillium 
blossom and dropped it into the cup, but the plant she hid away beneath her cloak. 
She waited for the counting of ten breaths while the flower dissolved, then took 
the cup of tisane from the Oddling midwife and signaled to the King. 
Krain rushed forward, raised his dear lady in his arms, and supported her while 
she sipped at the drink and then drank steadily until the goblet was empty. 
The Queen now lay back upon her pillows. Suddenly she uttered a mighty cry— 
not of pain but rather of triumph — and the midwife Immu said: "She is giving 
birth!" 
Three Princesses, one babe following swiftly upon another, appeared. And this 
was a great prodigy since multiple births are uncommon among the human 
aristocracy. 
The babes cried lustily, and although small were perfect in form, each differing 
slightly in feature and coloring from the other. As each Princess was welcomed 
into the waiting birth-cloth the Archimage spoke a name and laid upon the small 
breast a strangely wrought golden pendant inlaid with honey-amber, containing a 
bud of the Black Trillium flower. 
"Haramis," she said to the first child, in the tone of one welcoming a beloved 
friend or fosterling; and "Kadiya" she hailed the second; while "Anigel" greeted 
the third. 
Then she looked beyond the infants to the King and Queen, who both were staring 
at her in wonder, and spoke with such a note of foreboding in her voice as to 
impress her words deeply upon the memories of all who heard them. 
"Years come and go with speed. That which is lofty may fall, that which is 
cherished may be lost, that which is hidden must, in time, be revealed. And yet I 
tell you that all will be well. My day slides now into evening, although I shall do 
what I must and can until the coming of full night. These three Petals of the 
Living Trillium, children of your house, Krain and Kalanthe, have a fearsome 

destiny awaiting them and terrible tasks, but the time for that is not yet." 
Before the King and Queen could ask the meaning of her warning, the Archimage 
Binah turned and went swiftly from the room. The howling babes and the 
necessary duties attending the Queen's deliverance fully occupied the royal 
women and the midwife Immu, while the King went forth to announce the joyful 
news and proclaim a time of celebration. The magical trillium amulets were hung 
on fine golden chains, and the Princesses wore them waking or sleeping. 
As the Archimage had said, time passes; and with it treads also a measure of 
forgetfulness. The three Princesses grew up to be strong and beautiful girls, who 
heard often from their nurses and their parents the story of that strange scene 
attending their birth. However, to the girls it began to seem more and more to be a 
fanciful tale, especially the baleful warning, for there was nothing to disturb the 
comfort of their days as they matured, and like most young people they were 
much more interested in the present than the past. 
Princess Haramis was her scholarly father's favorite. While she was yet a small 
child, she craved such knowledge as is to be found in books, pestering the royal 
scribes and sages with questions unbecoming to royal females. She also found 
magic in music, especially that drawn from the flute and the strings of the laduwood 
harp. She spent much of her time with the Oddling Uzun, who was a famous 
singer of songs and raconteur. He could change the most melancholy mood into 
one of good cheer through his jolly tale-spinning and wise counsel. 
Princess Kadiya early proved to be a lover of animals and birds, especially the 
queer creatures of the deep swamp. Her passion was to live under the open sky 
and explore the wilder reaches of the realm, and for her guide and teacher in 
matters of natural history she turned to the Oddling Jagun, who was the royal 
Master of Animals and chief huntsman of the Citadel. 
Princess Anigel, as dainty and delicate as one of the flowers she loved so much, 
was a shy child, although much given to laughter, and had a tender heart that went 
out to any sick or suffering thing. She was a special delight to Queen Kalanthe, 
taking pleasure in domestic and ceremonial duties that her sisters scorned. Her 
closest friend was that same Immu who had been the royal midwife and her nurse, 
who now served as the Citadel apothecary, brewing not only potions and simples 
but also sweet perfumes, confectionary essences, and very good beer. 

The time came when the three Princesses were of marriageable age, Ruwenda 
having prospered for seventeen years at the expense of Labornok. At the behest of 
the sorcerer Orogastus, Crown Prince Voltrik sued for the hand of Haramis, the 
heiress. To his fury he was rejected, King Krain having decided that, failing a 
male heir, he would on the next Feast of the Three Moons betroth his eldest 
daughter to the second son of King Fiodelon of Var. This Prince, named 
Fiomakai, would then share the Ruwendian throne as co-monarch with Haramis. 
The nation of Var, lying to the south of the Tassaleyo Forest on the fertile plain of 
the Great Mutar, had very little commercial or diplomatic intercourse with 
Ruwenda. (It was, however, a notable maritime trade rival of Labornok!) But if 
the savage Glismak Oddlings could ever be subdued and the Great Mutar 
subsequently opened to the mercantile vessels of Var, Labornok might very well 
find the lucrative Ruwendian trade cut out from under it… 
At this critical junction in Peninsular history, old King Sporikar finally closed his 
eyes to the world and Voltrik became King of Labornok. At the urging of 
Orogastus, his newly appointed Grand Minister of State, Voltrik summoned his 
grown son Crown Prince Antar and the Labornoki commander-in-chief General 
Hamil. He told them to prepare for the immediate invasion of Ruwenda. 
Chapter One 
Once again, from down in the outer ward of the beleaguered Citadel, a blazing 
blue-white light dazzled the eyes of the watching royal family, and those of the 
courtiers and the Oathed Companions gathered with them on a balcony at the midlevel 
of the great keep. An attendant clap of thunder hit their ears a split second 
later. 
King Krain uttered a groan of despair. "By the White Lady, this time there can be 
no doubt! The sorcerer Orogastus has indeed called down lightning from a clear 
sky, and this stroke has breached the wall of the inner ward!" 
Labornoki foot soldiery came surging by the hundreds through the broad, newly 
made gap. They were closely followed by mounted knights led by the brutal 
General Hamil. The charging attackers flattened the valiant Citadel defenders as 
easily as the hurricane blasts marshgrass. Moments later there was a third blinding 
magical flash, and then a fourth, and after each one enemy hordes poured through 

fresh breaks in the fortifications. 
"It is the end," said the King. "If that ancient rampart with its multiple bastions 
can be pierced by the uncanny bolts of Orogastus, then there is no way the great 
keep itself can long remain secure." 
He turned to one of the Oathed Companions. "Lord Sotolain, bring my armor. 
And you, Lord Manoparo, I charge with the safety of our dear Queen and 
Princesses. Take them to the innermost stronghold of the keep, where you and 
your knights must defend them to the last drop of your blood. The rest of you, 
prepare to engage the foe at my side." 
Queen Kalanthe simply nodded; but Princess Anigel broke out in piteous weeping, 
and so did the ladies-in-waiting. Princess Haramis stood like a frowning image of 
marble, only her great blue eyes and shining black tresses relieving the pallor of 
her skin and the white gown and cloak she wore. Princess Kadiya, dressed in her 
mannish green leather hunting kit, unsheathed her dagger and brandished it. 
"Sire —dear Father! —let me fight and fall at your side! Rather this than I cower 
away with sniveling women while the flatlander bastards conquer Ruwenda!" 
The Queen and the nobles gasped, and Princess Anigel and the ladies left off their 
bewailing in astonishment. 
Princess Haramis only smiled coldly. "I think, Sister, that you put rash stock in 
your prowess as a fighter. These are not larval raffins fleeing your toy spear in a 
hunt, but armed stalwarts of King Voltrik shielded by the enchantment of a blackhearted 
sorcerer." 
"It is said by the Oddlings," Kadiya retorted, "that a woman of the royal house of 
Ruwenda shall bring about the fall of Labornok by slaying its wicked king!" 
"And you have nominated yourself as our savior?" Haramis uttered a bitter laugh, 
and then tears sprang into her eyes, sparkling like a freshet bathing blue glacier 
ice. She cried: "Leave be, silly one! Spare us your foolish posturing. Can't you see 
how you distress our Mother?" 

The Queen drew herself up proudly. She, like Anigel, wore the traditional 
Ruwendian court day-dress of unadorned satin, with its lattice-smocked sleeves 
and bodice. The girl's dress was a soft rose-color; but that morning the Queen had 
bid her handmaidens tire her in a gown and cape as crimson as blood. 
Kalanthe said: "My heart is filled with sorrow and fear for all of us, but I know 
my duty. Kadiya, put not your faith in Oddling prophecies. Our Nyssomu servants 
have fled the Citadel for the safety of the Mazy Mire, leaving us to face the foe. 
As to your warrior pretensions…" She began to cough, for billows of smoke were 
rising up the wall as other magical devices of the invaders cast fireballs that 
ignited the wooden buildings of the inner ward. "You must remain with us, as 
befits your rank and station." 
"Then I will be your defender," cried Princess Kadiya, "and that of my sisters. For 
if the Oddling prophecy is known to King Voltrik, then he dare not leave one of us 
royal women alive! I intend to sell my life dearly, and I will join Lord Manoparo 
and the Oathed Companions shielding you, and die with them if fate decrees." 
"Oh, Kadi, you can't!" sobbed the Princess Anigel. "We must hide and pray for the 
White Lady to rescue us!" 
"The White Lady is a myth!" Kadiya said. "We can only save ourselves." 
"She is no myth," Anigel murmured, so softly that her voice was almost drowned 
in the clamor of the fighting going on twenty ells beneath. 
"Perhaps not," Haramis conceded, "but it seems that she has abdicated her 
guardianship of this unhappy country. How else could the Labornoki host have 
crossed the pass, traversed the Mire, and fallen upon the Citadel with impunity?" 
"My daughters, be silent!" said the King. "The enemy will attack the keep at any 
time, and I must soon leave you." 
He bade them all withdraw from the open balcony into the chamber beyond, 
which had been furnished as a solar for the royal women. The bright silken 
cushions and gilded chairs had been kicked aside by mailed feet, and a tapestry 

frame lay sadly overturned near the cold hearth, together with abandoned books 
and a dulcimer with its painted sounding-board all cracked. The King now 
addressed himself to his second daughter, speaking with great sternness. 
"Kadiya, you do ill to dismay your mother and sisters with foolhardy behavior and 
talk of Oddling nonsense. Would King Voltrik have asked for Haramis's hand if 
he gave credence to this fairytale about female warriors? It is my duty as lord of 
this realm to defend it or perish in the trying. But it is your duty to live and 
comfort your mother and sisters. And be assured that your burden is lighter than 
that of our poor Haramis, who will no doubt in the end have to submit to Voltrik 
after all." 
At that all of the ladies-in-waiting burst into fresh wails, and the knights began to 
shout, and there was such a tumult of weeping and cries of "Nay, never!" that they 
scarcely heard the new fusillade of smaller occult explosions outside, and the 
clash of arms, and the screams of the wounded and dying. 
"Quiet! Quiet, all of you!" cried King Krain. 
But they would not, for he was not a monarch who ruled absolutely, through force 
of character, but rather one who had always encouraged his subjects to treat him 
as a father and adviser. 
For four hundreds, ever since the failed invasion of Labornok's King Pribinik the 
Foolhardy, the nation had been at peace. Crime and domestic strife had been 
almost nonexistent in Ruwenda — except for the occasional thief or homicidal 
madman, and the seasonal depredations of the abominable Skritek, which gave an 
excuse for knightly quests. During the extended peacetime military science had 
languished and the Oathed Companions forgot all they had ever known of strategy 
or tactics. The Kings of Ruwenda let their subjects do almost as they pleased, 
provided that justice and tranquility generally prevailed and the usual revenues 
poured into the royal treasury. Traditionally, Ruwenda had no standing army. The 
Oathed Companions were the designated enforcement arm of the throne, and the 
hill forts were manned by rotating cadres of free citizens from the Dylex Country, 
who were excused from taxes thereby. Ruwendian lords and ladies of the manor 
governed their tiny fiefdoms with a light hand, following the example of the 
throne, and everyone had prospered except the lazy, who did not deserve to. 

Isolated little Ruwenda had seemed to be the happiest land in the entire Peninsula, 
if not in the known world… until the magic spells of Orogastus unlocked the 
Vispir Pass to covetous Labornok and traced out the secret route that King 
Voltrik's army had followed through the Mazy Mire to the Citadel. 
Ten days was all it had taken. None of the magical storms or fog-phantoms or 
other disasters that had defeated King Pribinik plagued Voltrik. In fact, the 
abominable Skritek themselves were rumored to have allied with him! Under the 
aegis of the sorcerer Orogastus, Labornoki forces had quickly reduced the hill 
forts to rubble, sacked the nearby Dylex townships and sent their inhabitants 
fleeing to the remote eastern counties, and come almost without hindrance to the 
outer bulwarks of the ancient Citadel itself. Soon it would fall to Voltrik, and the 
kingdom with it. 
As the beleaguered Ruwendian royalty and their courtiers wrangled and wept, 
there suddenly came another tremendous flash of light and an ear-splitting 
detonation. The thick walls of the keep shook like a wattle hut before the winter 
monsoon. For an instant shocked silence prevailed within and without the Citadel. 
Then from below arose a roar from ten thousand throats and a triumphant 
sounding of bugle horns. It was plain that the gate of the huge central structure 
itself had been blasted open and the invaders were rushing inside. 
Now Lord Sotolain came with the King's armor and quickly helped him to 
harness, and Krain sighed as he hefted the heavy sword of his great-great-greatgrandsire 
Karaborlo, which he and his Companions knew he would wield bravely 
but ineptly. Neither the magnificent suit of shining steel inset with sapphires nor 
the crowned battle-helmet with its effigy of a platinum lammergeier could make 
King Krain more than he was — a mild-tempered middle-aged man, great of heart 
and mind but hopelessly unfit to be a warrior. 
When his helm had been laced on he made his final farewell to his family. "I have 
been a scholar and not a fighter, and this I do not regret. For long generations our 
beloved land has known only peace. We have been protected — or so we were 
taught to believe — by the Archimage Binah: she who is called the White Lady, 
the Lady of the Flower, the Guardian, the Keeper of the Black Trillium. Numbers 
of us standing here on this day of misfortune saw her and heard her as she 
wrought marvelously at the birth of our triplet Princesses. The Archimage told us 
that all would be well, but she also spoke mysteriously of a particular destiny and 

dreadful tasks awaiting the royal daughters. We did not understand her words, and 
most of us — even I myself— all but lost the memory of them. But let us ponder 
them now, for they may give us a measure of hope. Frankly, I do not know where 
else to look for it." 
He opened his metal-clad arms and gently embraced and kissed the Queen. Then 
came Haramis, whose face alone was still unstained by tears, and Kadiya, 
submissive at last, and golden-haired Anigel who could not leave off from 
sobbing. 
After bidding goodbye to his friends, he once again most solemnly charged the 
venerable Lord Manoparo and the four knights with him, who smote their armored 
bosoms in a gesture of fealty and drew their swords. Then the King turned away. 
With his highborn squire Barnipo bearing the royal shield ahead of him, he strode 
through the solar door with most of the Oathed Companions following after. It 
was time for him to fulfill his own destiny, and not a one of those left in the room 
doubted what it would be. 
As night fell on that day of conquest, the fires of the Citadel dwindled and merged 
their smoke with the miasma rising from the Mire. The knoll on which the 
Ruwendian capital stood seemed to be an island in a sea of turbulent cloud. 
Labornoki knights under General Hamil, who had emerged victorious from the 
last stand of the Oathed Companions, brought the vanquished King Krain and his 
squire Barnipo before King Voltrik, Crown Prince Antar, and the sorcerer 
Orogastus. A few score other noble Ruwendian captives were there in the throne 
room, heavily fettered and well guarded, in order to witness the capitulation of 
their nation. The banner of Labornok, scarlet with three golden crossed swords, 
hung on the wall behind the throne, where Voltrik now sat. 
Krain was now near death, bleeding heavily from deep wounds in the right arm 
and groin, and had to be supported by two of Hamil's knights as he was led 
forward and forced to his knees at the feet of King Voltrik. One of his captors 
flung down Krain's battered azure shield with its Black Trillium device all but 
obliterated, and the other knight cast atop it the King's broken sword. Hamil 
himself tore off Krain's helmet, removed the platinum royal coronet set with 
sapphires and amber, and held it high for all to see. The squire Barnipo, unhurt 
and unbound, trembled behind his liege in the grip of Lord Osorkon, Hamil's 
second-in-command, a gigantic knight wearing gory black armor. 

"Well met, Royal Brother," Voltrik said to Krain. His fang-edged helmet visor 
was open and he seemed to smile at the defeated Ruwendian monarch from within 
the open jaws of some fantastic, bejeweled saurian. Voltrik's chased and 
ornamented armor of gold-plated steel shone brilliantly in the torchlight, and he 
lounged akimbo on the throne of Ruwenda with one leg crossed jauntily over the 
other. "And do you now submit to me?" 
"It seems I have little choice." Krain's voice was a husky whisper. 
"Do you submit without condition," Voltrik demanded, thrusting the Ruwendian 
coronet beneath the stricken ruler's nose, "knowing that only by swearing thus will 
the noble and common inhabitants of your vanquished Citadel be spared death?" 
"I will surrender… if you spare also the lives of my Queen and three daughters." 
"That," said the sorcerer Orogastus, in tones as implacable as the strokes of a 
death-gong, "cannot be. They must die, as you must. And as part of your 
submission you shall tell us where in this great warren of crumbling masonry they 
have secreted themselves." 
"Never," Krain said. 
Now Crown Prince Antar ventured to step forth and confront his royal father. "But 
surely, Sire, we do not make war on helpless women!" 
"They must die," Orogastus repeated flatly. And King Voltrik nodded assent. 
"Your wizard fears them because of the ridiculous Oddling prophecy!" Krain 
exclaimed. "But it is arrant nonsense, Voltrik — a nursery tale! Only a few 
months ago, you would have taken my eldest daughter Haramis as your bride — " 
"But you scorned an alliance with Labornok," Voltrik said suavely, rolling the 
coronet around and around one finger as casually as an embroidery hoop. "And 
you replied to my gracious suit in words of haughty disdain." 

"Tact never being a long suit of you snotty Ruwendians," General Hamil injected, 
grinning. "And now may you choke on the insolent fruit you have so long 
cultivated." 
The gathering of Labornoki knights and nobles roared with laughter until King 
Voltrik lifted one hand. "I put my trust in the mighty Orogastus, who is my Grand 
Minister of State as well as the Court Sorcerer. And it is he who has foreseen 
disaster to my house at the hands of a royal Ruwendian woman, not some slimeskinned 
Oddling tale-teller. So your wife and daughters must die, Brother Krain, 
as must you. But if you submit to me humbly and turn them over to me, then your 
passing and that of your womenfolk shall be merciful, with a single sword stroke, 
and those of your people who swear fidelity to Labornok shall be spared." 
Krain lifted his bruised chin. "I will not submit, and I will not deliver my women 
into your hands." 
Voltrik held high the coronet, and then crushed it to a twisted mass between metalgauntleted 
hands and dropped it in front of the kneeling Krain. "Do you know 
your family's fate if you do not surrender to me? And that of your knights here 
gathered in chains?" 
King Krain did not answer. 
Voltrik's craggy brow darkened with anger and his fingers drummed impatiently 
on one shining golden cuisse. When the King of Ruwenda remained stubbornly 
silent, Voltrik commanded: "Bring in four chargers!" 
One of the Labornoki captains hastened to obey. 
A shocked murmur came from the prisoners, and the squire Barnipo blanched in 
sudden fear and twisted in the grip of his captor. 
"Ho!" General Hamil laughed. "This white-livered youth knows full well what 
manner of death the mockers of Labornok may expect. See how unstained his 
armor is — a coward, beyond a doubt. It would be a salutary thing if he were to be 
the first to participate in this small demonstration of Your Majesty's just 
punishment." 

"No! No!" shrieked Barnipo. "God and the Lords of the Air have mercy on me!" 
He struggled frantically until the black-armored Lord Osorkon smote him in the 
face with his closed bare fist, whereupon the boy subsided weeping and groaning. 
At that moment, the Labornoki captain and four hostlers returned to the spacious 
throne room leading four great war-fronials, still saddled and caparisoned. The 
animals' eyes rolled furiously red, and they tossed their gilded antlers and snorted 
and pranced, and their metal-shod cloven hooves rang on the marble floor. 
"No!" Barnipo screamed. 
"Yes," said King Voltrik quietly. His eyes met those of Krain. "I will show you, 
Royal Brother, just what fate awaits you and yours if you continue to defy me." 
And to the captain: "Take the craven, and tie one of his limbs to the pommel of 
each saddle, and then whip the beasts apart until he is well and truly quartered." 
Barnipo let out a howl of despair and writhed in Osorkon's arms, while the 
Ruwendian knights bellowed curses upon the head of Voltrik until they were 
silenced by the prick of daggers at their throats. 
King Krain said, "Let the poor lad be, and inflict this death rather upon me." 
The sorcerer Orogastus said: "We will let the boy go free, and vouchsafe to you an 
honorable death rather than the ignominy of rending, if you will reveal to us the 
hiding place of your women." 
"No," said Krain. 
"Sire?" General Hamil asked of Voltrik. 
The Labornoki King climbed to his feet. His red-violet cloak billowed about him 
and reflected garishly on his golden armor. "Krain of Ruwenda, you have chosen 
your own death. Lash him tightly to the beasts." 

"Sire! Sire!" wept the boy. "Let it be me! Forgive my cowardice!" 
"I forgive you with all my heart, Barni," Krain said. 
The lackeys took the King, stripped him of his armor, and laid him supine out in 
the middle of the wide throne room floor. When they began to tie him with 
rawhide thongs, blood flowed from his reopened wounds and soon lay in a pool 
beneath him. Throughout all this, in spite of the shouts of the furious Ruwendian 
captives and the penitent blubbering of the squire Barnipo, Krain's countenance 
remained unperturbed. When everything was ready, the four great antilopine 
chargers ramping and squealing with excitement so that it took three men to hold 
each of them in place, the captain stood at attention and awaited Voltrik's 
command. 
But now Orogastus whispered something to his King, who nodded and then 
beckoned Lord Osorkon to bring the fainting squire close to the throne. 
"Boy," the sorcerer said, fixing the terrified Barnipo with his penetrating gaze, 
"you have it in your power to save your Liege Lord from this hideous death. And 
to save your own skin and that of the other captives as well." 
Barnipo could barely mouth a reply. "I, my Lord?" 
"You," said Orogastus. 
Of all the invaders, the sorcerer alone was unarmored, wearing simple robes of 
white covered with a black cowled cloak. A platinum chain hung about his neck, 
and from it was suspended a heavy medallion engraved with a many-rayed star. 
He now pushed his hood back to disclose features that were comely and unlined, 
even though his long hair was as white as snow. His face seemed benign as he 
addressed the squire. 
"Listen carefully to me, boy. Do as I say and you may yet save the lives of the 
Queen and the three Princesses. I confess that I am much amazed at the courage 
shown by King Krain, and I deem it meet that my gracious sovereign should wed 
your Princess Haramis after all, since the daughter must inherit the virtue of the 
father and pass it on to her sons." 

"Really, my Lord?" A wild hope lit the squire's face. 
"Really. And so that Princess Haramis may accept the betrothal in good heart, I 
have advised His Majesty to spare the lives of all the royal Ruwendian women. 
The only thing you have to do to bring about this fortunate resolution is to tell us 
where they are concealed." 
The boy's eyes darted from sorcerer to King and he hesitated. "You will also spare 
my life?" 
"By my crown," said Voltrik, touching the coronet atop his fearsome helmet, "you 
will live. But do not tarry, for the fronials grow restless." 
"And our King?" 
"He must die," Orogastus told him, "for that is our law. But you can ensure that 
his passing is swift and painless. If you but speak." 
Tears poured down the boy's cheeks. "So say you on your honor?" 
"I swear it by the Lords of the Air," Orogastus said. 
Barnipo took a deep breath. "Then… they are hid in a secret stronghold on the 
chapel floor of the great keep, reached through a hidden passage within the choirloft, 
which opens by pressing the central boss of the great trillium carved on the 
wall. Lord Manoparo and four Oathed Companions guard them." 
The sorcerer's deep eyes gleamed. "Ah!" 
And King Voltrik and General Hamil echoed: "Ah." 
"You swore not to hurt them!" The boy's teary face flushed and his lip trembled. 
"By the Lords of the Air—" 

"A formidable oath," Orogastus said nonchalantly, "for those who believe in such 
fancies." 
"But you also swore!" Barnipo turned frantically to the King. 
"To spare your despicable life," Voltrik said, "and I will, so that you may serve as 
a cess-pit drudge for the rest of your miserable days." And he cuffed the horrified 
boy smartly with his metal gauntlet, so that he crumpled and fell off the dais and 
lay as one dead. 
"My King," General Hamil said, "I will take a force and seek out the royal bitch 
and her three whelps." 
"No," said Voltrik. "My son and I will lead the search party. You will deal with 
the Ruwendian scum gathered here… and with their worthless leader." 
Beckoning to Prince Antar, Voltrik strode off the dais. He called to them a group 
of twenty knights, and they set off for the great spiral staircase that led up to the 
chapel. 
Hamil, mailed fists resting on mailed hips, surveyed the throne room with its mob 
of Labornoki and their wretched prisoners ranged about the perimeter. In the 
center of the hall King Krain still lay tied to the shying war-fronials. 
"Disposing of prisoners in chains is dull stuff," Hamil remarked to Osorkon, "and 
it has been a wearying day. Let us first have some entertainment." Then he 
shouted, "Hostlers! Use your whips!" 
In the horror that followed, Barnipo made a quick recovery from his sham faint, 
scuttled away unseen, and raced up a back stairway to warn the Queen and 
Princesses of their peril. 
Chapter Two 
Barni had run so fast that his breath failed. There was in his side a pain as dire as a 
knife-wound, and his head ached so much from the blow King Voltrik had dealt 

that he had begun to see two of everything. Now as he staggered up the cramped 
little staircase to the choir-loft he heard afar off the measured clank of armored 
feet and an enemy voice shouting: This way! 
The chapel was almost pitch-black, lit only by a few votive lamps, and the 
staircase unlighted at all. This changed in an instant as King Voltrik and his 
torchbearing knights rushed in through the central portal and crowded into the 
vestibule. 
Seized with panic, the squire tripped and fell near the stairway top, striking his 
swollen head. All his strength ebbed away and it seemed he would fail his duty yet 
again. "White Lady!" he sobbed aloud. "Help me. Help our poor Queen and 
Princesses." 
Sweet air filled his congested lungs and his vision cleared. There was still sore 
pain in his head, but he could move again. More like a scrambling many-legged 
worram than a man, he crawled up the rest of the stairs and across the splintery 
floorboards to the wall behind the ranks of choir stools. It was of dressed stone, 
with a carved and painted panel of the Royal Seal of Ruwenda, an azure field 
having a great heraldic Black Trillium with a golden boss at the center. 
Barni crawled to it and pressed the boss with both hands. At once the stone square 
swung inward, making a small doorway through which a man could squeeze with 
difficulty. No sooner had he entered and swung the panel closed, than the 
greybearded Lord Manoparo and two other Ruwendian knights, Korban and 
Wederal, came out into the cramped secret passageway from a lighted inner 
sanctum, weapons bared. 
"Hold, hold, it's only me!" the squire croaked, rising to his knees. 
"By the Flower! Young Barni!" Manoparo sheathed his sword and drew the 
draggled boy to his feet. "Now then, my lad — " 
"Quickly! If you would save the ladies, bolt fast the outer door and break its 
opening mechanism so that the foe may not enter!" 
Uttering curses, Korban and Wederal hastened to shoot home four great steel 

sliding bolts and chop up the secret panel's wooden machinery with their swords. 
No sooner had they accomplished this, than a mighty battering commenced from 
the outside, accompanied by martial shouts. And then, even more ominously, the 
pounding stopped. 
"They have gone to get a ram," Wederal said. 
"More likely the sorcerer!" snapped Manoparo. "Back inside the stronghold." 
They dragged the squire with them to the secret chamber, which was about seven 
ells square and equipped for a siege, having a massive door of heavy gonda-wood 
strapped with iron, barred by three stout baulks of timber. The walls were covered 
with ancient tapestries and the floor with thick carpets and sleeping mats. There 
were no windows, only two embrasures high up, so narrow that a finger would 
barely pass through the slot. The room had a small table and one stool, upon 
which Queen Kalanthe sat, guarded by a fourth knight, Lord Jalindo. A tiny 
fireplace hardly larger than a brazier was flanked by chests of foodstuffs and kegs 
of wine and water. A standing candlestick of battered silver-gilt and other candles 
in a wall sconce gave fitful light. 
Lord Manoparo made obeisance to the Queen, who sat pale and calm with her 
three daughters huddled against her skirts. She had put on her great platinum 
Crown of State, blazing with emeralds and rubies, surmounted by a glittering 
diamond sunburst centered with a drop of amber as large as an egg. At the amber's 
heart was a fossil Black Trillium the size of a thumbnail. 
"My Queen, the foe have found us." Manoparo indicated the drooping Barnipo. 
"This squire gave warning and we have made shift to block the way as well as 
may be. But they are sure to bring up the sorcerer to break the doors with his black 
magic and make an end of us." 
Little Princess Anigel gave a rending shriek of terror, and would have fallen into 
hysterics had not her sister Kadiya slapped her smartly and admonished her to be 
still. Haramis took the sobbing girl into her arms while the Queen questioned 
Barni. 
"What of my royal husband? " 

The squire dropped to his knees, tears coursing down his dirty cheeks. "Oh, my 
Lady, he is dead and our poor Ruwenda lost." 
The four knights groaned and the royal daughters cried out in horror. Queen 
Kalanthe only inclined her head and asked, "How did my Lord fall?" 
"Alas!" cried the boy. "God and the Lords of the Air forgive me, for it was all my 
fault." And he continued on in this manner reviling himself until Lord Jalindo laid 
a hand on his shoulder. 
"Come now. You are not yet fifteen years old, and no one of us can believe that 
such a youngling contrives the death of kings. Tell us plainly what happened." 
So Barni did. And when he related the manner of shameful death that King Krain 
had suffered, the Princess Anigel fainted dead away into the arms of her sister 
Haramis, and Princess Kadiya exclaimed in a broken voice, "They shall pay!" But 
the Queen sat still, staring at the barred door opposite, holding in her lap the 
sweaty and bloodstained head of the King's squire, who wept as though his heart 
would break. 
"It is not your fault, poor Barni," she soothed him. "The foul Orogastus deceived 
you. No one holds you to blame. The blame be upon the sorcerer and King 
Voltrik, and upon that monster Hamil, who gave the order that tore my beloved 
asunder." 
"They shall pay," Kadiya whispered, but no one except Haramis heard. 
Suddenly there was a great detonation. The knights drew their swords and 
arranged themselves in a line between the women and the door. The Queen leapt 
to her feet, letting the squire slide to the carpeted floor. 
"A woman of our house," Kalanthe said, her eyes alight with resolution. "That is 
what the diabolical Voltrik fears! So the prophecy is not merely an Oddling tale 
after all, since the Labornoki soothsayer himself confirms it!" 

She faced her daughters. Anigel had recovered herself, and the three pairs of eyes 
were fixed on their mother. "The fall of Labornok shall be compassed by a woman 
of our house. You will live, daughters — and prove the prophecy true." 
Now the foe was smashing with bludgeons and axes at the very door of the 
sanctum, Orogastus not being able to use his magical destructive bolts in such a 
confined space for fear of toppling the walls. Queen Kalanthe pulled aside one of 
the hanging tapestries, which were made of an antique fabric, still to be found here 
and there in the Citadel, that had outlasted those who had built the great pile and 
awed the humans who had called the place home for eight hundreds. The cloth 
was grey, and as the Queen thrust it aside it turned blue, and on it or in it shadows 
moved, and yet one could never see just what those shadows were. 
Behind this wondrous drapery lay a homely necessity, the stronghold garderobe, a 
tiny closet just large enough for a single occupant. Kalanthe flung open its small 
door and commanded: "Daughters, inside!" 
Haramis moved quickly, dragging with her Anigel, whose fragile body again 
shook with sobs. The fit was very tight for two, and Kadiya drew her dagger and 
said: "No matter: I will remain with you, Mother-" 
"Inside!" the Queen commanded, in a terrible voice none of the girls had ever 
heard before. Kadiya gaped at her, then hastened to push and cram the other two 
within until there was room for her, but only barely, and the door to the garderobe 
would not shut tightly. 
"One last thing," the Queen said, and she took off her great Crown and passed it to 
the waiting hands of Haramis. "And now pray, my darlings, and may we meet 
again in a happier world." 
She let the dusty tapestry fall. There remained a small gap between the hangings 
through which the three Princesses saw what happened next. 
The gonda wood door was now in splinters from the blows of Labornoki 
battleaxes. They hewed at the doorframe itself until the hinges holding the metal 
strapping gave way, and the timber bars collapsed, and then the final melee began. 

Prince Antar, wearing blue-enameled armor and a winged helmet, was among the 
first to penetrate the broken door. He engaged Lord Manoparo, the two of them 
smiting one another with two-handed swords that rang like bells with the force of 
the blows. Other knights of Labornok rushed into the room and had at the other 
four Oathed Companions, while King Voltrik and Orogastus stood aside. The 
Queen had withdrawn to the front of the hearth, as far as possible from the place 
where her daughters were concealed, and the hidden girls saw her clearly, as well 
as the pitched battle taking place in the room. 
Lord Manoparo gave a mighty thrust at the winged helm of Prince Antar. Its laces 
broke, and it fell from the Prince's head. His face, strangely, was not contorted 
with battle-lust but rather full of anguish. Nevertheless, Antar laid about with skill 
and great strength, and at a fortuitous moment caught Lord Manoparo disengaged 
and lifted his huge sword above his head and struck downward, using such force 
that the Ruwendian's head, helmet and all, was cloven in two. 
Then Korban and Wederal were mortally wounded and disarmed, and only Lord 
Jalindo still fought on until he was overwhelmed by the press of Labornoki. When 
the last Oathed Companion fell, the victors began to hack him and his fallen 
fellows to dollops. 
Oh, the horror! Princess Kadiya's eyes burned and she snarled in silent, helpless 
fury, as might a voiceless lothok kit taken for taming from the breast of its slain 
dam. The barbarous wretches were actually enjoying themselves as they 
dismembered the fallen Ruwendians and made mock of their dying cries. Kadiya 
was overwhelmed by the need to burst forth from the hiding place and take 
revenge. Gripping her blade, crushed between her sisters, her every muscle tensed 
in readiness— 
"Stay!" hissed Haramis. "By the Flower, stay where you are! Would you kill us 
all?" 
Anigel had pulled her trillium amulet on its chain from her bodice and now 
pressed it to her lips. "Pray to the White Lady, guardian of our land!" 
"Pray that those devilish brutes won't find us," muttered Haramis, holding her own 
amulet. 

"Pray that someone will come to save us," Anigel urged. 
Shivering with fear and rage, Kadiya nevertheless felt her grip on the dagger 
handle ease. Almost without volition her hand stole to the neck opening of her 
doublet. The amulet was there under her silken shirt, warm against her pounding 
heart. 
"I pray that I will be the one," she whispered, "the one to make Voltrik and Antar 
and General Hamil and the sorcerer pay with their blood for the deeds of this 
day!" 
"Pray also for self-control," said Haramis, "or else your foolhardy bravery may yet 
doom us all. And cease your wriggling, plague take you, lest we tumble out at 
Voltrik's feet!" 
"Hush, hush! They will hear," Anigel pleaded. The dreadful chopping and the 
laughter of the evil knights had ceased, and King Voltrik himself was speaking. 
Against her will, Kadiya silently uttered a plea for self-mastery. The anger still 
burned within her, but slowly the emotion was covered, as one banks the coals of 
a campfire so that the flames may be summoned again into life when the proper 
hour comes. 
"Look!" Anigel whispered, her voice almost inaudible for terror. "Our Mother!" 
King Voltrik had been addressing the Queen, evidently questioning her about the 
whereabouts of the Princesses. It was close and smoky in the stronghold, with the 
candles in the wall sconce guttering and a few of the floor mats asmoulder, having 
been burnt when the big standing candlestick was upset. The King had unhelmed 
and removed his gauntlets, and from the fierce scowl that darkened his 
countenance it was evident that Queen Kalanthe had defied him. 
She stood straight, with the disheveled squire Barnipo crouched at her feet in a 
daze, and said: "Never will I tell you where my daughters are." 

"Orogastus, force her!" bellowed Voltrik. "Or spy out the royal brats with your 
farseeing eye!" 
"I cannot force her will, my King," the sorcerer replied. "She is beyond fear. And I 
cannot descry the hidden ones, no more than I could do so down in the throne 
room. This ancient Citadel must be pervaded with some arcane enchantment that 
blocks my seeking Sight. I own a magical device that would accomplish the task 
no matter what obstacles intervened, but it is bulky and of a great weight, and it 
cannot be removed from my eyrie on Mount Brom." 
"Then we shall have to use other means to unlock the lady's tongue." King Voltrik 
came slowly toward the Queen with sword drawn, and took hold of her right wrist. 
"Enough of this, royal bitch! You will tell me quickly where the girls are, or I will 
strike your hand from your arm. And do you still fail to speak, then I will strike 
off the other hand, and proceed to your feet, and then your limbs little by little 
until you give answer, for thus does Labornok repay insolence in its enemies." 
"Sire!" exclaimed Prince Antar, his face aghast. "She is a queen, and that 
punishment is one for rebellious slaves —" 
"Silence!" thundered Voltrik. There was a murmuring among the Other men, but 
this died away as the King raised his sword arm. "Will you speak, woman?" 
Then a thing happened so swiftly that the watching knights and the Prince could 
not grasp it, but the Princesses saw clearly. The fainting squire Barnipo was 
energized and sprang at King Voltrik like a marauding fedok attacking its 
farmyard prey. Having no blade, he sank his teeth into the King's left hand, that 
which gripped the Queen. 
Voltrik uttered a roar of pain and drew back with the boy still hanging onto him. 
The King laid about every which way with his great sword, and by misadventure 
slashed the Queen in the throat, and she fell with her life's blood pouring forth on 
the hearth. All of the Labornoki knights began to yell and to thrust at the stillclinging 
youth — but gingerly, lest the flailing monarch also by chance strike 
them. The squire Barnipo was pierced by a dozen blades and fell away at last, 
laughing in his pain, until the King himself smote off the brave boy's head. 

Then Voltrik gave vent to black fury, cursing so vilely that even his henchmen 
flinched, for Queen Kalanthe was also dead, beyond coercion, and the three 
Princesses still at large. 
"What are we to do?" Prince Antar asked. 
Orogastus said: "They cannot have gone far. It is certain that they must have been 
with their mother up until the time that this lowborn whelp" — and he kicked the 
squire's body — "went by some shortcut from the throne room and gave warning. 
We must mount a search of the entire keep." 
Calming himself, Voltrik said: "Orogastus speaks truly. You, Milotis, will take 
charge of these knights and begin searching the chapel and its environs 
immediately. Be alert for secret passages and 'tween-wall stairways! After that, 
search the High Tower above. Antar and Orogastus, come with me. We'll roust 
out the rest of our fellows and ransack this pile from the highest parapet to the 
lowest dungeon." 
Then the King began to mutter maledictions upon the soul of Barnipo, who had 
taken a fair chunk of flesh from the heel of his hand, which now was exceedingly 
painful. Orogastus undertook to bind the wound, saying that Voltrik would have to 
take great care, human bites being likely to carry dangerous infection. 
"May the member putrefy," Kadiya whispered ferociously, "and the poisoned 
blood ascend into Voltrik's already rotten heart!" 
"And may the Lords of the Air carry poor Barni into highest heaven," Haramis 
breathed, "for by his brave action, he spared our Mother torture, and gained us 
time to save our lives." 
The King, his son, and the sorcerer went off; and after a short search of the blind 
passage outside the stronghold, Sir Milotis and his men also withdrew to begin 
their scrutiny of the choir loft. They banged about and shouted and overturned 
furniture for some minutes, and then trooped down the stairs to examine the 
chapel. 

Kadiya said: "I think it's safe to come out." 
So they did, all stiff-jointed and trembling, creeping from the garderobe into the 
awful shambles of the chamber. The full reality of their situation now struck them 
like a splash of icy water. Anigel clung to Haramis's hand and bit her lower lip 
until a trickle of blood stole down her chin. Kadiya stepped over the tangled 
bodies to the fallen Queen. 
"She seems at peace," the girl marveled. "Her eyes are closed and her aspect 
gentle." She took a black silk cloak that someone had dropped and would have 
covered her mother's body; but Haramis said: 
"Fool! What if one of them should come back and discover it?" 
Chagrined, Kadiya admitted: "You are wiser than I, Sister." 
"Give the cloak to me," Haramis said, "so that I may wrap the Crown. I will carry 
it with me — although there is small chance I shall ever wear it." 
Anigel let out a smothered squeak of fear. Her sapphire eyes were enormous as 
she pointed without words to one corner of the room athwart the door. 
There were no bodies there, and yet a pile of cushions was moving. 
"Stand back," Kadiya ordered, drawing her dagger and advancing. One by one, 
she plucked up the pillows with her blade's point and threw them aside, until there 
was revealed the carpet, pushed up like a tent and rising higher by the moment. 
"By the Flower, a trapdoor!" Haramis said. "Quick, Kadi, draw aside the rug." 
"Oh, beware," Anigel cried. "Perhaps it is the foe!" 
"Foe foe foe indeed!" said a crabby little voice. "Move lively, girl, or else they'll 
cut off our escape." 

The three Princesses gasped, and when Kadiya got the trap uncovered there in its 
mouth stood a female creature of short stature, neatly dressed in a fustian robe, a 
green plait-work shawl, and a leather apron. Her sallow face was broad, as was 
her mouth, and her beautiful golden eyes bulged inhumanly above two tiny slitted 
nostrils. Narrow pointed ears tipped with silvery baubles thrust up from the folds 
of her lawn headdress. Her hands were broadly two-fingered with opposing 
thumbs, stained and scarred from many years of mixing strange concoctions. 
"Immu!" cried Anigel in a transport of joy and relief. "Dearest Immu, you've come 
to save us after all. We thought you'd fled with the rest of the Oddlings —" 
"Fled fled fled! What rubbish!" Immu climbed up into the chamber, then pointed 
dramatically into the hole. "Get you down the ladder, for I'll have to contrive a 
way to cover the trapdoor behind us." 
Haramis and Anigel kilted up their long skirts and went awkwardly, while Kadiya 
scrambled down agile as a tree-vart. In the rough vaulted passage below was 
another surprise. 
"Uzun!" Haramis exclaimed. "And Jagun, too!" 
Two other small figures stood waiting, carrying green-glowing lanterns in which 
luminous swamp-worms were enclosed. They were males of the same Nyssomu 
race as Immu. Jagun wore a fedok-skin hunter's cap and brown leathers cut very 
similarly to those of Kadiya, while the musician Uzun had on his usual 
embroidered maroon velvet smock. His gold brocade beret was besmirched with 
sticky black lingit webbing from the secret passage. 
Kadiya embraced her small mentor. "You didn't desert us, Jagun!" 
"Desert? Desert? " The Master of Animals was indignant. "We simply hid, which 
was the prudent thing to do. Only you humans are foolish enough to stand still like 
silly togars mesmerized in the moonlight, watching death march down the 
causeway right into your front door!" 
"Honor demanded our defense of the Citadel," said Kadiya hotly. 

"Well, see what your honor's bought you," said Uzun the musician. "If only you 
had gone away into the Mazy Mire, to our people at Trevista, we could have taken 
you in." 
"And then what?" Kadiya demanded. 
"Then…" The Master of Animals shrugged his narrow shoulders. "You might 
have lived with us." 
"But this is our home," Anigel protested gently. 
"And now it's theirs," said Immu, her voice brusque. She had finished her 
camouflaging and came quickly down the ladder, picking up her own lantern. 
"And they're bound and determined to slay you. Us as well, if they catch us." 
"But you came anyway to save us," Anigel said softly. She had hold of the trillium 
amulet. "The White Lady answered our prayers." 
"That is so." Uzun sketched a mystic three-lobed sign above his head in reverence. 
"My own mastery of domestic magic is puny, as you know, dear Princesses. I am 
much more accomplished on the harp and fipple flute! But yesterday I did the 
water-scry, seeking to discover that which would tell us three Nyssomu whether 
our destiny lay with humankind whom we have served so long or with our own 
people. And the Archimage spoke." 
Haramis said: "Archimage! That's one of the names of the White Lady." 
"Lady lady lady!" scolded Immu. "Hush, child, and let Uzun explain, for we must 
be away at once." 
Haramis lowered her head. "Say on, friend Uzun." 
"The White Lady is actually named Binah. Archimage is her title, for she is an 
enchantress, the most mighty in all our Peninsula." 

"Or was," said Jagun gloomily. "She is dying, being of a vast age, and her failing 
powers could not countervail those of the terrible Orogastus." 
"She bade us bring you to her," Uzun said. 
"Why?" asked Kadiya, rather tartly. "If she is dying, she can be of scant help, and 
it is hardly a time for sick visits." 
To which Haramis appended, "We would do better, it seems to me, to go to 
Trevista. There we can wait out the Winter Rains, which will be here in a few 
weeks. Perhaps later we can disguise ourselves and join a caravan, and eventually 
make our way to the coast and take ship to Var. There King Fiodelon will surely 
give us sanctuary." 
Uzun spoke with simple dignity. "As to that course of action, I know not. The 
Archimage charged us to bring you to her —just as she charged the three of us, 
many long years ago, to serve in this human castle against a day of great need for 
all Folk dwelling in the Mazy Mire." 
"Which day is today," Immu said, "or I'm a ringtailed volumnial!" 
She clamped her wide lips shut and cocked her head, listening intently, her long, 
sensitive ears swiveling about so that the ornaments winked in the living 
lamplight. "They leave the chapel," she said at length. "But other searchers will be 
swarming about the keep at King Voltrik's command. Even those three lackeys of 
the sorcerer, who are called his Voices and who consort with the Skritek! It's time 
to leave." 
"Haramis, Eldest Daughter of the King, you will come with me," Uzun said. " 
Jagun and Immu will take your sisters by another way. This was commanded by 
the Archimage." 
For a moment it seemed Haramis would refuse. Abandon her sisters? Her hand 
went to her breast and her fingers closed about the amulet that had never left her 
after the hour of her birth. 

"But I cannot leave them! I am the eldest, and heir to the throne, responsible for 
them. And when matters demanded, it has always been I who decided for us all." 
"Hara, do as he says," Anigel urged. "Trust the White Lady." 
"I like this not, Sisters," said Kadiya. Her tanned brow was creased and her hair, 
russet like that of the Queen, was all awry, escaping from what had been neatly 
coiled braids. "If we stay together, my blade offers us all some measure of 
protection. Gladly I would lay down my life-" 
"Life life life!" Immu was totally exasperated. "Why are you always so 
hotheaded? And why must Haramis make the decisions? Anigel is not 
strongminded like you two, and yet she shows the greatest wisdom! Tell them, 
Uzun! Tell them the other words of the Archimage." 
"I forbore," the musician admitted sheepishly, "wanting not to dismay you. The 
Archimage Binah bids you come to her because you are unready to pursue your 
great destiny. Indeed, you do not even recognize it yet." 
Haramis and Kadiya bridled at this, but Uzun went on. "You three, Petals of the 
Living Trillium, have it within you to save this land from the oppressive rule of 
King Voltrik and Orogastus, but only if your flaws and weaknesses are mended 
can you succeed. The Archimage will tell you how this may be done when you 
come to her." 
Anigel took the hands of her two sisters. "Hara… Kadi… please!" 
Kadiya veiled her fierce brown eyes and slowly nodded. A moment later Haramis 
said: "Very well." 
"By the Flower, it's about time!" Immu exclaimed. She continued: "Haramis, you 
must follow Uzun. Anigel and Kadiya, come with Jagun and me." 
So saying, the Oddling woman pulled Anigel off down the narrow dusty passage, 
and the huntsman followed after, shooing Kadiya ahead of him as a farmwife 
herds her togars. In a moment the light of their living torches was lost in thick 

darkness. 
"And we two must fare forth together," Haramis said to the musician. "Old friend, 
I hope the White Lady has strengthened your puny magic, for your flute ditties, 
excellent as they are, will not long fend off the warriors of Labornok or their 
storm-beckoning sorcerer." 
"I, too, am afraid, Princess," Uzun admitted. "But I put my trust in the Archimage, 
as you must. And she has ordered that you be taken to the top of the High Tower 
of the great keep." 
Dismay paled the girl's face. With its framing blue-black hair, it was spectral in 
the gloom. "We shall be trapped up there! The searchers will surely discover us! 
Oh, why didn't I listen to Kadi?" 
"Come," Uzun insisted, and went hurrying off with the lantern, and Haramis had 
no choice but to follow. 
Chapter Three 
Kadiya, Anigel, and the two Oddlings fled through dark and narrow spaces 
between the stone walls of the Citadel keep, sometimes passing other secret doors, 
their machinery furred with the dust of ages. At length, after they had descended a 
steep stairway, they came to a passage where there was a peephole giving onto the 
throne room. 
Jagun spied through this into the now silent and lifeless chamber. Then Immu 
looked, and then Princess Kadiya, who uttered a low cry of grief and struck her 
small fists against the stone wall while she wept, not uttering a sound. 
They begged Princess Anigel not to look, fearing that the appalling sight would 
strike her senseless, but she would not move from the spot until Jagun stepped 
aside. She put her eye to the hole in the wall and saw from above the mutilated 
remains of the captive Oathed Companions and King Krain, and to the amazement 
of the others she neither cringed nor cried, but only closed her eyes and held tight 
to her trillium amulet. 

After a moment she sighed raggedly and asked: "Immu, you are old and wise. Tell 
me why the Labornoki did this, when our Father and his knights were already in 
their power and surrendered?" 
"It is a hard thing for such as you to understand, child. You are gentle and loving 
yourself, and you have known only love and gentleness throughout your life. But 
there are those to whom cruelty vouchsafes a dark thrill, a rushing sense of power. 
Small-souled and fearful themselves, surrounded by others who would wreak 
cruelty on them and finding scant happiness in life, they fall prey to the basest of 
all lusts — that which finds pleasure in destruction and in the pain of others. The 
cruel one feels himself exalted above all by his action. He feels more alive 
because of the death of others. He defies the Creator by rending creation. He 
scorns love and embraces hate, because it alone enkindles his cold and stagnant 
soul. There is no pity, no stricken conscience, no remorse in the wantonly vicious. 
There is only a hunger for more and more cruelty, because these persons can 
never be sated. Gentle folk may not safely respond to them gently, because 
evildoers do not know what love is, mistaking it for weakness. For this reason 
you, who are a gentle and loving Princess, must find a sterner way of dealing with 
such ones." 
"Oh, I could not," Anigel said, trembling. "Never could I — not even after 
viewing this terrible sight!" 
Princess Kadiya flung her arms around her sister. "Never mind, Ani dear. I'll see 
that the brutes get what's coming to them." 
Then Jagun made them move on, and they walked and walked, always moving 
deeper into the Citadel's lower levels, until finally the secret way ended in a wall 
of modern brick that formed a dead end. 
Anigel began to whimper in a panic, but Immu hushed her while Jagun held his 
lamp close and made finger play on the wall, first in this direction and then in that. 
Suddenly a section of brickwork shifted, and torchlight shone through, and the 
girls caught a familiar malty smell and knew where they must be. They hurried 
between ranks of barrels and big copper vessels with beer puddled beneath, for 
this was the Citadel brewery that Immu supervised, although all the workers had 
fled and the fires had gone out, and the huge vat of wort was untended. 

Immu led them now, and they entered the grain store, where the two Oddlings and 
the girls had to shift a large pile of sacks. In back of it was a mouldering wooden 
door that yielded with loud and reluctant creakings when Jagun prized it open 
with a fire poker. The door led to a precipitous stairway hewn from living rock, 
wet and slippery from water that dripped from cracks overhead. They descended, 
the walls glistening as the wan lantern light reflected off occasional flows of 
greasy mud. 
"This way leads to the uttermost depths of the Citadel," Jagun said, "to dungeons 
and oubliettes and cisterns and drains that have never before been seen by 
Ruwendian eyes, built by the Vanished Ones." 
There had been a few web-building lingits in the upper passages, tiny harmless 
creatures that fed on household bugs. But at the bottom of the stairs they came 
into a low roofed chamber hung with dripping mud stalactites, and among these 
were much larger lingits, with bodies the size of ladu fruit and nasty teeth. The 
creatures had spun clumsy sticky nets as big as black bedsheets, and Jagun and 
Kadiya drew their blades and hacked through those that impeded their passage. 
Anigel shrank back in loathing when Immu kicked aside the indignant displaced 
spinners, which cheeped and squeaked and tried to bite through the shoes and 
boots of the intruders. 
Once past this obstacle, they descended another flight of roughly carved stairs, 
and the smell of tainted water grew offensively strong. They came to a rusted gate 
that stood half open. Beyond it was another portal gaping wide, and on the walls 
empty torch-holders and pegs holding bunches of keys so attacked by verdigris 
that they crumbled to greenish clots when Kadiya ventured to touch them. The 
floor was covered with pools of water, and as they hurried down a corridor, 
becoming more mud-splashed by the moment, the gloom lightened and a 
yellowish radiance shone forth. 
They entered a large arched room and the girls exclaimed aloud, for the place was 
a kind of prison ward, with rotting cells all around it, and the floor and ceiling and 
walls were streaked with slippery glowing matter. Shapeless little creatures 
slithered languidly about, leaving shining trails behind them. 
"They are the slime dawdlers," Jagun said. "Such also dwell in the remote reaches 

of the Misty Mire." 
"Ugh!" cried Anigel. And she pointed in horror to one cell where the door had 
fallen from its decayed frame, and within lay a skeleton still chained to the wall by 
rusted fetters. The eye sockets glowed, for slime dawdlers had made their 
dwelling inside it. 
"What a nauseating place. Look! There are rusted instruments of torture in that 
corner. And these horrid slimy things — . They lurk in every nook and cranny. 
See, this old bucket is crawling with them. Oh! There is one climbing up my 
shoe!" She tried in vain to scrape the clinging thing off against a stone plinth, 
shuddering all the while with abhorrence, and then burst into helpless tears. 
Immu went to her darling's rescue, skewering the slug expertly with the dagger 
she wore sheathed behind her apron, and flipping it away. She drew out a dry 
kerchief and wiped Anigel's muddy and tear-stained face, murmuring words of 
solace. 
"How much farther must we go?" Kadiya demanded of Jagun. "My poor sister's 
court slippers give scant protection from the wet, and her gown and light cloak are 
soaked through. She will catch her death." 
"There will be warm, dry clothing waiting," Jagun said, "but we shall get wetter 
still before quitting this place — hark!" 
They all stood stock still. Jagun snatched off his hunter's cap to give his great ears 
full play. His face became a mask, the skin drawn tightly over the bones, the eyes 
like refulgent globes of amber, the wide lips parted a little to show those fanglike 
foreteeth that humans usually did not notice, reminders that even the peaceful 
Nyssomu had been in their time hunters who went equipped with more than 
blowpipes and spears. 
The girls heard nothing but the tinkle of dripping water; but Jagun said: "They 
have followed us! Doubtless they discovered our tracks in the brewery. Quickly!" 
He dashed to a low opening on the other side of the dungeon, which proved to be 
the entry to another steep staircase. It had a kind of railing at Oddling waist 

height, and a good thing, for the steps were fiendishly slippery. The girls held on 
for their lives as they all went hurtling downward, not noticing that they left 
behind them faint luminous footprints that became less and less bright as they 
descended. 
The wildly swinging lanterns of the Oddlings revealed nothing of what lay ahead 
until they reached the very bottom. There they found themselves in a dark 
cavernous chamber, ankle-deep in mud and water. The place was crowded with 
strange, rusting machinery and broken pipes thicker than tree-trunks, which 
harbored more of the glowing slime dawdlers as well as larger flying creatures 
that took fright at their presence and skittered off hooting into the darkness. Jagun 
led them to a circular paved platform in the chamber's center. In the middle of it 
was a round black hole about two ells in width, circled by a low stone curb. 
Now, from above came faintly the sound of armor clanking, and human voices. 
Anigel cried out in terror. Jagun peered into the well-like opening and then picked 
up a stone that lay nearby and cast it in. A long moment later there was a faint 
splash. 
"Good!" he exclaimed. "I feared that, it being still the dry season, the great cistern 
would have drained. But all is well and our escape route is at hand." He beckoned 
to Kadiya. "Come, my brave kit! The cistern is the ancient water storage chamber 
of the Citadel, built long ages before the edifice attained its present size. It is fed 
by a conduit leading to the Mutar River north of Citadel Knoll. The Archimage 
has commanded my brother Rapahun to bring a punt to the conduit's secret mouth. 
All we have to do is jump." 
"Jump?" Kadiya repeated incredulously. 
Jagun tucked his lantern into his belt-wallet. A wetting would not harm it at all. 
"I'll go first, and assist each of you as you splash down." 
"But I can't swim!" Anigel wailed. 
"The rest of us can, sweeting," said Immu encouragingly. "We'll hold you up." 
The noise of the approaching Labornoki force was becoming louder. 

"No time to waste," Jagun said. "I'm off!" 
With a cheery wave, he stepped over the edge and vanished. There was a distant 
splash, and a hollow call: "Jump! It's quite all right!" 
Kadiya took a deep breath. "May the Lords of the Air grant me courage!" 
She took hold of her trillium amulet, approached the well's lip, and jumped before 
her rising panic could freeze her muscles. 
She fell. 
White Lady, help! Oh, let me land softly… 
She floated. 
"What is this?" Kadiya's fear turned to stupefaction. She still gripped the amulet. 
A light breeze, seeming to blow upward in the darkness, told her that she drifted 
slowly into the depths. Down, down, down — and then she slipped into cool water 
as easily as a knife into an oiled sheath. She found herself afloat. Jagun's strong 
nonhuman hand towed her along until she bumped squared stones. 
"There is a narrow walkway," the Oddling said. "Climb up and I will pass the 
lantern." 
But she did not climb. Bemused, clinging to the ledge in the dark, water dripping 
into her eyes, she whispered: "Jagun… old friend… I did not fall but wafted 
through the air like a winged salith seed!" 
"What say you, girl? " The Oddling's voice, usually kind and diffident, had 
sharpened. 
"I clasped tight my trillium amulet, and prayed that I would land soft, and it 
happened. The very Lords of the Air bore me up." 

"Triune God! This cannot be!" 
"I did float, I tell you! And landed easily in the water." 
Suddenly there was light, as Jagun hauled out his lantern and set it on the cistern 
ledge. Kadiya saw the little being in the black water beside her, his great eyes 
bulging, his face working, torn between consternation and anxiety. 
"The prophecy —but there is no time for this!" he groaned. "The mystery must 
wait upon our safe deliverance." He lifted his head and called out to Princess 
Anigel to jump, his words echoing in the vast hollow dark. 
Up in the well-chamber, Anigel heard and approached the lip of the hole, with 
Immu encouraging her. 
"Jump!" the faraway voice urged. "Jump, daughter of the King. Fear not!" 
And then came Kadiya's voice, strangely exultant. "Jump, Ani! Hold fast to your 
amulet and pray that you will fall slowly, and it will happen! The trillium amulet 
is magical, and we can command it!" 
"What's this?" Immu leaned over the edge. "Princess Kadiya! Did this really 
happen?" 
"It did, it did, dear Immu! And to think we never suspected' Jump, Ani, and trust 
the White Lady's gift!" 
Anigel gritted her teeth, clutched the pendant, and began to tremble so violently 
that Immu feared she would fall in a fit. "I cannot jump! I'm afraid! What if the 
magic won't work for me?" 
Orange flamelight now flickered dimly from the stairwell. The clashing of armor 
and arms mingled with the sound of men cursing the slime-dawdlers. Someone 
cried: "Prince Antar! This way! Follow the glowing footprints down the stairs!" 

"You must jump," Immu pleaded. "Dearest Ani, they will soon be upon us. Here, 
let me take one hand, and do you hold your amulet with the other, and we will 
step off together." 
But the girl leapt back from the brink, eyes wide. "No! No!" 
Jagun's voice rose hollowly from the depths. "What are you waiting for, silly 
women? Hurry! The knights dare not follow, for they would sink from the weight 
of their iron. Jump! Jump!" 
"The Princess is afraid, and I cannot abandon her," Immu called. 
"Then pull her, lackwit!" Jagun screeched. 
Immu turned to the cowering Princess, lantern high, but the girl drew back, 
shaking her head wildly, eyes now rolling and mouth wide in a grimace of fearmadness. 
The little Oddling female took hold of Anigel's wrist and pulled, but the 
girl fought back. Both of them slipped and fell off the platform into the shallow 
muck, where they howled and thrashed about like Skritek worrying their prey. 
It was thus that Prince Antar and his men found and laid hold of them. 
Sodden and weeping, Anigel and Immu were forced to their feet. They stood with 
hanging heads amidst the twelve armed men, who held high their smoking torches 
and made rude jests. But Prince Antar, his face taut, said: "Where are the others?" 
Immu stuck out her long prehensile tongue at him. One of the knights drew his 
sword and would have slain her on the spot, but the Prince cried: "Hold, Rinutar!" 
The man stepped back, grumbling. 
Gently, the Prince took bedraggled Anigel and looked into her face. It was without 
expression, the eyes turned dull and dead. "Lady," said he, "have they.gone into 
yon well?" 
Anigel said softly: "Yes. They have escaped. So kill us, but remember that my 
sister Kadiya now possesses great magic, and will one day wreak vengeance for 

the foul deeds you have done today." 
The assembled knights exclaimed at this, and threw questions at the girl, but she 
would say no more. 
"Shall I put them to death, my Prince?" asked Sir Rinutar. 
"Nay. They will have to be questioned, so that we know what manner of 
enchantment — if any — opposes our rule of Ruwenda." 
"Just let me have the Oddling slut," Rinutar said eagerly, sheathing his sword and 
drawing a glittering poniard, "If I only toy with her a bit before the eyes of the 
Princess, she shall soon tell us all that we want to know." 
"Oh, no! Please, no…" Anigel's voice trailed off into a moan, and she fell 
senseless into the muddy water. 
Prince Antar bent to lift her, and as he held her frail body in his arms and looked 
down upon her, pallid in the flickering torchlight, he thought that he had never 
seen so beautiful a woman, for all her sad and besmirched state. He was relieved 
that he would now not be obliged to condone the torture of the Oddling hag, much 
less slay the lovely, helpless creature whose head lay against his armored breast. 
"We can do nothing more here," the Prince said. "It is plain that the others have 
eluded us, and that it is impossible for us to follow. We must abandon this pursuit 
and take these prisoners to my Royal Father. Let their disposition be up to him." 
The knights concurred with enthusiasm, for the eeriness of the Citadel bowels had 
all but unmanned them. Antar commanded his marshal Sir Owanon to bind Immu 
and carry her across his shoulder, and he himself did likewise with Princess 
Anigel. Then they began the long slow climb upward. 
Chapter Four 
Haramis ran, following the pattering, uneven steps of the Oddling court musician, 
and her headlong flight told her things about her courage — or lack of it — that 

she had never suspected. 
They traveled upward through secret passages and stairways that became ever 
more cramped and choked with dust and webbing, places where Uzun assured her 
no foot but theirs had trod since the first Ruwendians took over the ancient 
Citadel. Finally the hidden way ended, and they were forced into the open to face 
the broad stone spiral staircase of the keep's High Tower, which was Ruwendianmade. 
The wall fixtures, wrought iron baskets that held tubs of oil with wicks, had 
been lighted, and it was clear that Labornoki searchers were already abroad in the 
tower. 
Haramis and Uzun toiled upward floor after floor, past the enormous royal library, 
where Haramis had spent many long happy days in study, her greatest pleasure. 
The library levels were deserted, but Haramis gasped with indignation at the sight 
of toppled shelves and precious volumes left in random heaps on the floor. Still, 
nothing seemed to be maliciously destroyed. No doubt Orogastus has given orders 
to preserve this, she thought. I certainly would, in his place. 
In spite of herself she felt a grudging admiration for the enemy sorcerer, a man 
who had learned to command the lightning, who had traced out the convoluted 
pathway through the Mazy Mire with his clairvoyant eye. It was only through the 
power of Orogastus that Ruwenda had fallen, and Haramis respected competence, 
even when it was turned against her and hers. She was curious about him; even as 
she followed Uzun upward, she wondered about their enemy. What sort of man 
can he be, if he is a man at all? 
Haramis and Uzun cautiously moved past the open iron gate of the antechamber to 
the tower's fifteenth floor, where the crown jewels were kept. The Princess 
faltered when she heard the sound of searchers within the closed doors of the 
strongroom, but no one appeared to challenge them. They continued climbing past 
the next locked and barred level, where cut and uncut gems and fresh-minted 
specie were stored, to the seventeenth floor, a kind of fortified workroom, where 
damaged precious articles were repaired or melted down. There were only two 
more levels, Haramis knew, between them and the roof: first a small armory, then 
the dormitory for guards and certain other tower workers. 
Uzun paused to rest. He took off his beret, mopped his sweating, lined forehead, 
and struggled to catch his breath, while Haramis regarded him with concern. The 

Oddling musician had been her friend from early childhood, and she was fond of 
him and trusted him, even though he was not human. The Nyssomu, of all the 
aborigines, in external appearance most resembled humans, but their blood was a 
queer dusky red, and their bones were oddly shaped within, and their hearts beat 
on the other side of the breast. All of them claimed to have the Sight, and it was 
certain that at times they could speak to one another from a distance, 
communicating by means of the speech without words. But most Ruwendians 
believed them to be inferior beings for all that, lacking in culture and barely 
civilized, even though they learned human ways quickly enough and sometimes 
even excelled humans at their own arts and crafts. As a small child, Haramis had 
thought for a time that the Nyssomu Oddlings belonged to her Father the King, as 
the animals did. But her Father had explained to her that the little aborigines were 
free, and had souls, and must be treated as true people… 
When Uzun had rested, they resumed their stealthy climb. As they approached the 
last section of stairs, Uzun made Haramis hang back while he went to spy that all 
was clear ahead. She was becoming increasingly anxious about what would 
happen when they reached the tower's battlements. As Uzun peeked over the edge 
of the top-floor landing, Haramis frowned and drew her cloak tightly about her. A 
cold wind whistled through the unglazed embrasures and flattened the flames of 
the blazing wall cressets. 
Haramis was dismayed when Uzun failed to beckon her on. He crept back down 
with one wide, clipped talon pressed to his lips. Alarm shone in his huge yellow 
eyes. When he reached her side, he whispered: "A single knight on guard, 
Princess. No doubt others are searching the rest of this level." 
"I knew it!" Haramis whispered. "We are trapped up here, with enemy soldiers 
above and below us! Your White Lady's plan has failed." 
"Hush, hush," the Oddling pleaded. "I think there may be a way past, but it will 
demand that you be brave, and move quickly. Can you tie up your gown? " 
She nodded grimly, dropped her cloak, and set the Crown carefully on top of it. 
Then she kilted her skirts through her jeweled belt until they hung bloused to her 
knees. She wrapped the Crown in her cloak, tied the corners together, and slung 
the bundle over her shoulder. She looked to Uzun. "And now?" 

"The parapet is reached by a ladder near to the stairs, perhaps four ells from where 
the guard stands. He has been wounded in one arm and it is bound up, but his 
sword-arm is quite whole. He is very likely fatigued and sick of the futile 
searching, which has deprived him of the anticipated joys of looting, feasting, and 
drinking." 
"And violating the Citadel women," Haramis added. "Such will doubtless now be 
my fate, before they slit my throat and cast my body into the cesspit." 
Uzun looked at her reproachfully. "Princess, you will be harmed only over my 
dead body. Trust in the White Lady and listen to my plan, I beg of you." 
Haramis played nervously with the trillium amulet, running one thumb over and 
over the smooth amber that encased the small black flower bud. I don't doubt your 
dedication, she thought, but "over your dead body" may not be difficult for armed 
soldiers to achieve. Not wanting to hurt the little Oddling's feelings, she said 
merely: "I am listening, Uzun." 
"I shall spring suddenly up from the stairwell and dart toward the knight, 
pretending to be scared out of my wits." 
"If you are as frightened as I am, that should present no difficulty." 
"I shall caper and gibber and roll my eyes in and out on their stalks." She knew 
that what he was saying was a real sacrifice; she had not seen him extrude his eyes 
since she was a very small child, when he had sometimes done it to amuse her or 
her sisters. However, she had learned before she was six or so that no adult 
Nyssomu would show such a lack of control unless he was virtually beside 
himself. 
"I shall distract the villain," Uzun continued. "Meanwhile, you must climb up the 
ladder and open the upper trap. I shall follow, and together we'll overthrow the 
ladder and slam shut the trapdoor and bar it against him." 
"And then? Even if we can hold off the soldiers — and assuming their sorcerer 
doesn't blast us with one of his damnable lightning bolts — the top of the tower is 

no place for a siege. We could, of course, die heroically of starvation and thirst, 
but that will hardly help Ruwenda!" 
"I don't know what happens then!" Uzun snapped. "I only follow the White Lady's 
commands! Oh, Princess, can you not leave off your incessant questioning? More 
knights may appear at any minute! Just give me a moment to seize this man's 
attention, and then follow quickly." 
He hopped up the steps and into the guards' anteroom. 
Haramis heard the soldier curse, and then came the ringing swish of a drawn 
sword. But Uzun was cackling like an insane thing, his footsteps dancing over the 
boards, and the knight's filthy language changed to a startled guffaw. Tensing, 
Haramis looked over the top step and saw the normally staid musician cavorting 
about, long pointed ears comically aflap like the wings of a night-caroler drunk on 
fermented fruit. His eyes popped in and out of their sockets on stalks, and his 
lolling tongue coiled and uncoiled while their owner hooted ridiculously up and 
down the musical scale. 
The knight doubled over with laughter, lowering his sword, and in a flash Haramis 
scrambled up the ladder and flung open the ceiling-trap. 
"Uzun! Come up! Hurry!" She knelt on the roof and gripped the heavy ladder just 
as the Oddling streaked over to it and began clambering up the rungs. The 
bamboozled knight cried out an alarm and stumbled toward the ladder waving his 
sword at Uzun. Haramis grabbed Uzun's wrist and hauled him up beside her. The 
sword, aimed at his ankle, became embedded in the ladder's rung. Together they 
gave a mighty heave and thrust the ladder away, while the knight was still 
clumsily trying to pull his sword from the wood. 
Entangled and unbalanced, the armored form fell with an ear splitting crash. 
Shouts came from within the dormitory, and as Uzun slammed shut the trapdoor 
and barred it, more knights of Labornok rushed forth to investigate. 
There was a strong wind up on the High Tower roof; redolent of the marshes, it 
tore at the low-lying fog that hid the Mazy Mire and the lower reaches of the 
Citadel. The blood-colored Labornoki banner snapped from the tall flagstaff at the 

side of the tower facing the river. Directly below, some fires still burned among 
the buildings of the inner ward, flickering eerily beneath the mist. The deep blue 
sky was bright with stars, and in the west the Triple Moons moved toward their 
conjunction, which would occur at full phase, four weeks hence. 
Fear and indignation over her plight now suffused the Princess with a burning 
anger. They were in a cul-de-sac with no exit. Knights were smashing on the 
trapdoor with swords and battleaxes, and soon it would give way. But she would 
not let the Labornoki take her alive! Better to leap from the tower's battlements — 
The trapdoor broke open and a knight whose helmet was a grotesque iron mask 
hauled himself up, whooping in triumph. 
Haramis stood with Uzun at the very brink of the parapet, clutching her amulet as 
she had when terrified by nightmares as a child. But this nightmare was real. 
"Lords of the Air, protect us!" 
Uzun cried: "White Lady! Be thou at her aid!" 
Three armored men bounded toward them with weapons raised. But at the same 
moment there was a great blast of wind, and the stars were blotted out by two 
huge dark forms swooping down. They gave voice like monstrous brazen 
trumpets, and one stooped and dropped straight at the thunderstruck armored trio. 
"Lammergeiers!" one of the knights yelped. "Beware!" But an instant later, a 
gigantic wing bowled the three men over like dolls and swept them over the edge 
of the parapet. Their voices blended in one scream, which lasted for several 
seconds before stopping abruptly. Their companions, who were just emerging 
from the trapdoor, dodged back down to safety. There was a clanging and a 
smashing and yells of pain and fury as several presumably fell from the ladder. 
Others of the Labornoki kept their footing and watched, although none dared to 
venture out. 
Later they would tell King Voltrik and the sorcerer Orogastus what they had seen: 
two gigantic creatures with white bodies and wings banded black and white, 
soaring down to land on the High Tower roof, their talons striking sparks from the 

stones, and their eyes and toothed beaks glistening in the dim moonlight. Princess 
Haramis mounted one, and the Oddling musician Uzun clambered onto the back 
of the other. Then the great lammergeiers spread their wings and took flight, 
bearing the fugitives away to the northwest, toward the distant rampart of the 
Ohogan Mountains. 
Chapter Five 
The ignominious retreat added fuel to Kadiya's anger. She thought of them being 
discovered creeping on hands and knees along the narrow, slippery ledge of the 
conduit. Since it had been disused for countless hundreds, the Ruwendians having 
built a new water supply system when they took over the ancient citadel, this way 
was not only falling to pieces but was nearly choked with noisome and rotting 
debris. Jagun had slung the lantern about his neck, but time after time he was 
forced to pause and pass the light back to Kadiya until he had broken away a mass 
of dead branches or pawed up a soggy haystack of marsh grass. In some places the 
masonry had crumbled utterly, so that they waded, swam, and worked their way 
around obstacles. The knees of Kadiya's leather trews were soon worn through, 
the skin beneath scraped raw. Under her breath she muttered words she had heard 
in the stables but never before voiced aloud. 
"Is the river far?" she demanded at last, nursing hands torn painfully by thorn 
ferns she had taken an equal part in clearing away. 
"Not far. If it were day we could see the light ahead, for these accursed ferns 
cannot grow in total darkness. Take special care now, for this is an excellent 
lurking place for gradoliks or water-worms." 
Kadiya spat out a lump of foul tasting mud and felt, rising to flame within her, that 
anger which had been born at the first alarm. 
"May the everlasting mud sink them all! May the vipers of Viborn lace them 
throat and wrist — " 
"Save your breath, King's Daughter. Doubtless in time the spirits will provide 
fates for your enemies even you may find adequate." 

"No fate save that I deal myself!" she flared back. 
His hand grabbed her wrist in a hold Kadiya knew of old to be a warning. She 
swallowed and was still. 
Now they waded, slipped and slid over quaking mud, netted by a web of small 
riverlets, until they at last found a time-rusted grill and worked their way around it 
where part of the stone which had anchored it had fallen away. Above was open 
sky at last. Once again Jagun cautioned her with outstretched hand. 
He moved a little farther from her, his head high. Apparently he was listening 
intently, as well as using his hunter's sense of smell to test the safely of that small 
stretch of forgotten wasteland. 
"The Labornoki must have established an outpost not far from here." 
Kadiya looked up over her shoulder, having to strain her head at an angle to see 
better. Fire above, looping flames. There was little enough within the Citadel to 
fuel that victory blaze unless those who had riven its defenses had ripped old 
hangings from the walls, smashed all the furnishings. Distant shouts, shrill 
screams, against which Kadiya tried to steel herself— striving to shut out of her 
mind what must be happening there. 
"May I live to give you new mouths to laugh with straight across your filthy 
throats!" Her lacerated hand crossed her breast to seek her belt knife, touched the 
amulet which had slipped out through a tear in her shirt. 
If the power of this had been able to waft her down into the cistern… well, it 
might have even more to offer. She clutched the amber in one hand so tightly that 
she might be trying to force it into her wounded flesh. 
Will—will and strength — and what words she could summon: 
"Lords of the Air, all ye who hold by the God Triune, may thy power be lent to 
mine, thy will to mine for this, that these be brought to death even as they have 
slain those who call upon you. Pay blood price, ye of the upper ways, grant me 

blood price!" 
With the amulet gripped as tightly as she would have held a sword, Kadiya 
pointed to the light of the holocaust behind her. 
Her answer was a tortured scream out of the night, a hoarse call for another keg. 
Kadiya's lips tightened against her teeth. "It does not work!" Almost she made to 
fling the amulet from her, but her fingers were so locked that she could not loose 
them. 
"No," Jagun answered quietly, as he might speak to soothe an impatient child. 
"But I used my will! I did so more strongly than when I went into the well." She 
opened her fingers one by one to survey what she held. "Or does it work for me 
alone? Will it carry me to the White Lady? Or both of us-?" 
Jagun watched her patiently. "One can only try, King's Daughter." 
Again Kadiya's fingers imprisoned the amulet. 
"By what power lives within you —bring us now to she who made you —the 
Archimage!" 
The night held fast about them. 
"Carry me, then, if there be any virtue within you, sorceress's gift!" 
No answer. 
"So! Did I then dream it all?" Kadiya asked of the night. "Was I so bereft of my 
senses, Jagun?" 
"Little one, I cannot answer you truly, it was too dark within. Perhaps I mistook 
the time of your jump. I am no dealer in old wisdom." 

She dropped the pendant, to let it dangle on its chain. "Magic seems to have 
deserted us, Jagun — if it ever touched us at all. Well, at least that flatland scum 
cannot hope to trace us through the Mazy Mire." 
Kadiya had been many times in the swamps — but only along well-marked 
Oddling routes. There were other secret ones, some being the jealously guarded 
knowledge of single-family clans. It was a point of honor not to remember any 
guidances if one was not of the Kin. Now she bent her head closer to the hunched 
shadow of Jagun to ask grimly: 
"Those plains-crawlers dare not follow us there, is that not so?" 
Half concealed by bushes, the Oddling was groping in the water near a tumble of 
rocks. 
"Their sorcerer has called the Skritek. Also Pellan has joined them." 
"Pellan!" That one of the merchants' guides — lored almost from birth in the 
matter of hidden trails—would betray them seemed utterly impossible. But before 
yesterday she would have sworn that it was impossible that Kadiya of the House 
of Krain would have bellied like a snake across sucking mud. 
"Voltrik holds that which some find it difficult to refuse." Jagun's voice was cold 
and hard. He straightened up, bringing out of the mud a stout rope which ended in 
deep water. On this he pulled with care. "The Labornoki King has power which 
rests on wealth. And wealth comes from the efforts of men. What king grubs in 
the mountain for precious ores, lays hand to axe to down trees, bespeaks strange 
and rare finds from the swamp people? It is those of Pellan's kin who gather these 
riches. Voltrik takes a mighty share, yes. But he can grant the leavings to those 
who serve him, and even those leavings will make many men rich. Come, 
Farseer." He used now the name she had been so proud to gain half a year earlier 
— a swamp-given name that brought with it respect. "Farseer, there is yet a long 
way to go." 
She was not really listening, still shaken at the thought of Pellan's treachery. Why, 
she knew him — smiling, pleasant, he had even guided her to one of the strange 

ruins. 
"Did Pellan truly act for gain as you say, Jagun? Or out of fear? He has kin within 
the flatlands. We have seen this murderous King and what he would do to those 
who cross him. Fear is mightier perhaps than magic. Did not Anigel surrender to 
fear?" 
"Judge not so quickly, King's Daughter. Your sister made no willing surrender. 
Fear can become so great as to give birth to madness. In that there is no guilt." 
"Only weakness," Kadiya muttered. 
"Weakness you may taste of also, and even you may know great fear. Speak not 
against any one whose burden you have not weighed yourself." 
Jagun gave a jerk to the rope and there glided out of the swamp mist a stout punt 
stocked with poles and a sculling oar, as well as a large bundle well wrapped 
against the damp. 
"Blessings be upon my brother!" Jagun said. "He has followed very well the 
Archimage's instructions. Now we have our way of travel, food, and clothing 
also." 
The punt was big enough for four passengers, and Kadiya realized with a stab of 
sorrow that Anigel and Immu had been meant to travel with them. But surely they 
were now helpless within enemy hands. And Haramis? Kadiya had no way of 
knowing. This night she stood alone, and on her would doubtless fall the burden 
of resistance against the invaders. 
They embarked and Jagun mounted the sculling oar at the stern. 
Their craft began to move up the sluggish stream which skirted the northeastern 
part of the Citadel. For a moment the mists parted and Kadiya caught a glimpse of 
the mighty castle-crowned rock and a star or two above it. 
Her home —in the hands of the enemy! And where were her sisters? They might 

be already dead — or worse. 
NO! Her hands went to her head as if she could reach inside and pull out the 
pictures forming there. She must not think of that — she must not! 
"Where do we go?" There were many kinds of resistance possible. While 
vengeance would certainly be hers, she could not bring down King Voltrik alone. 
Haramis, Anigel — if they lived — might they join with her? 
She had not spoken those names aloud, yet Jagun answered, and not for the first 
time she was startled, for now he said: 
"For your sisters are roads waiting also. It is only our own way we must keep in 
mind now." 
"Where do we go?" she demanded again. 
"You must answer that, Farseer." 
"How?" She had settled into the punt, glancing back once more at the Citadel. The 
fire there was dying. Still she felt that the swamp seemed unnaturally warm. She 
looked down. Under her mud-smeared, rent bodice there was a pale spot of light. 
She clapped a hand to it — the amulet! 
Kadiya drew it forth. It seemed to move on her grimed palm. A spark of light 
pointed skyward as if from some strange candle. Her breath came raggedly. 
Perhaps after all it still held magic! But magic certainly did not work according to 
her own will, she had already proven that. Steel in the hand was more certain. 
Voltrik's soothsayer Orogastus —he dealt in magic which obeyed him. He could 
even command his own King, treating him as though he were but a tool and a toy. 
Tool and toy! That might be the story of her own birth, and the Archimage's giftgiving! 
Perhaps magic was like all else —it grew old, rusted, brittle, broken when 
it was called upon too late. 

Under Jagun's stirring the punt made a sharp turn, carrying them in a new 
direction. She saw the spark move as might the needle of a compass. 
"Jagun, this is a guide!" 
"What is?" asked the Oddling, weariness in his voice. He had drawn closer to the 
bank and anchored them with a stone-weighted rope. Now he was tugging at the 
wrappings of the bundle. 
Kadiya held out her hand and told him excitedly of the change in the spark of 
light. 
"So —then it points the way to the Archimage's dwelling at Noth. That is good, 
for I knew of few trails thither. None of the Nyssomu hunt there. That country, the 
Goldenmire, is Uisgu territory." 
From the wrapping he had shaken out tunics and breeks woven from aromatic 
grass by his people. There were also hoodcapes of fedok skin, which could turn 
aside a torrent, and wood-soled sandals. After the clothing came two stoppered 
jars which he opened, and the scent of the well-crushed and creamed herbs within 
fought against the swamp odors. 
"You can wash and dry your leathers later, if they can be repaired. But now you 
must be of the swamp." 
She skinned out of her garments, which were indeed torn, and redressed, taking 
the cream from the jar to anoint her skin and even plaster through her tangled hair. 
The insect life of the swamp could make life a torture for any without such 
protection. 
One more precaution Jagun produced, this time from a loop on his belt. It was a 
hunter's trick Kadiya had seen before. Between his fingers he held a pipe which 
was hardly more than a reed in thickness. This he put to his lips. The sound he 
produced was very thin and without a tune, but he was answered. 
Passage along any waterway of the Mire could bring a betraying silence which 

would alert any tracker. Kadiya had not been truly aware of the quiet about them 
until Jagun's piping unleashed the normal sounds of life. Now she heard the buzz 
of insects, small gulping and peeping sounds, and the deepthroated call of a 
gulbard on the hunt, so close that she could see its soft grey-green body lurking 
just at the surface of the murky water. Ahead, all was darkness. 
They sculled up the broad Mutar slowly, staying far out from the inhabited 
southern shore. Jagun was especially cautious as they passed the wharfs of 
Ruwenda Market at the Knoll's western edge, where the river swung away at last 
from its skirting of the high ground and entered the Blackmire. This densely 
forested region extended over many square leagues between the Citadel and the 
ruins of Trevista, and received its name from the sunless aspect of the swampland, 
where tall, intertwined trees were mated by leafy vines and other growth into a 
dense canopy, so that the surface was nearly always in shadow. 
After a while the river broke up into braided watercourses without a clearly 
defined mainstream. There were thousands of swampy islands and mudbars 
without number in this part of the Blackmire, so that an ordinary human traveler 
would have become hopelessly lost trying to find the way in broad daylight — 
much less at night, in intermittent patches of mist. But Jagun sculled confidently 
onward. 
Kadiya huddled in the bow, nibbling now and then at a piece of adop root, the 
tuber which made up much of their food stores. These seemed to suck all the 
moisture from the mouth and left a bitter aftertaste but she knew them for the 
travel ration of the Oddlings. To gnaw at one was to remember her first venture 
into the deep swamp with Jagun. 
She had delighted so in the strange animals and plants he had brought to show her 
that she had pestered him to let her visit the Mazy Mire. Her father had very 
reluctantly given his permission and for a whole day she had traveled through a 
green gloaming alive with mysterious creatures and plants. That venture had 
changed her whole life. Kadiya had sworn then to learn the ways of the swamp 
and those dwelling within. 
However, she had never gone where the amulet spark now pointed — toward the 
remotest and most secret lands. Ahead, the country of the friendly Nyssomu and 
the shyer Uisgu merged with that of the abominable Skritek. 

Skritek! Their very appearance was a horror out of some nightmare. Though they 
strode two-legged, the skulls atop their sinewy, mottled bodies bore no 
resemblance to either human or Oddling. Flattened, the forepart elongated into a 
snout which split to show greenish fangs, dagger sharp, the head of a Skritek 
seemed designed by nature to rend and kill. 
Their eyes were bulbous, as were those of all the swamp Folk, set high on their 
heads and somewhat to the side so they had a wide range of vision. Unlike the 
Oddlings', however, those eyes were not golden but a vivid orange, scarlet 
streaked. The green-blue of their bodies blended easily with the Mire vegetation 
except for those eyes; and so they usually awaited their prey almost submerged in 
the swamp, draped with water fern, and pulled their victims under. Thus were they 
spoken of in the swampland as the Drowners. 
Most knew them only through travelers' tales, which were grisly enough. In their 
own country, which bordered on the farthest known Oddling territory, the Skritek 
were said to walk boldly, carrying spears and knives on occasion, although their 
strongest armament was their own fangs and the talons on their three-fingered 
hands. Their passage was noiseless but the choking musky odor of their bodies 
betrayed them. They were known to roll in mud wallows into which they tossed illsmelling 
herbs to mask their stench. In their own territory they attacked without 
warning, frenzied by blood lust, either tearing their victims apart and devouring 
them — sometimes still living — or carrying them away to torture them to death. 
"You spoke of the Skritek." Kadiya had wrapped her arms around herself, chilled 
now. "By what kind of power could those monsters be made to obey any will save 
their own?" 
Jagun answered: "By the will of that one whose shadow overreaches even that of 
the King he is supposed to serve — Orogastus. Do not down-say him as a 
soothsayer, a purveyor of petty trickery. He is not one who follows fairs to read 
the future by casting colored sands. There are those born with unusual talents, 
King's Daughter, and most do not misuse their gifts. However, there are some 
adepts who tread a darker path in their search for strange knowledge, and such 
will spend a lifetime searching for that which gives them power—that power 
which is not of hand or sword, but rather of thought and will — over others. There 
are many stories of Orogastus which have come even to our ears here in the Mire. 

One can perhaps discount a half or two-thirds of such rumors —but what remains 
is dire enough! Like calls to like — it may be that the Skritek recognize in this 
King's wizard a force akin to what moves them. Perhaps, as yet, they are not his 
creatures; but their present alliance rests on a very old law: if your enemy is also 
mine, then until he is dead we shall walk a common path." 
Kadiya sighed. "Jagun, you have long been my teacher and still you know much 
more that I must learn. I am sometimes hardly more than that child you humored 
when you first brought me into this country. Your people named me Farseer, but 
that is mere flattery. Yes, I may see some things well, but in other ways I am 
blind!" 
"To know that one is blind is to begin to see," Jagun replied quietly. 
He was steering them toward one of the larger hummocks. Over their heads the 
patches of sky were greying. Dawn was not far off. "Peril not only threatens the 
body, it also strikes against the spirit." 
"I do not understand." 
"Persons, even those you once loved and trusted, might want to use you as a tool, 
even as I use this oar to steer by." 
"Use me?" Kadiya was incredulous. "If they tried they would face my steel!" 
"Fight, always fight," the Oddling's voice was gentle mockery. "My little Farseer, 
you have spied a tree-vart on a branch a hundred ells away, but have you ever 
tried to see the inner, not the outer? Seeing one's own self is the hardest of all. 
Now, day comes and with it we shall camp. Pull aside those branches, so." 
As she obeyed, he sent the punt neatly into an indentation of the hummock toward 
which he had guided them. But even on shore, and with fatigue weighing her 
down, Kadiya was not to be denied her answers: 
"You shall teach me wisdom," she stated, with a note of command. 

"Not I," he told her somberly. 
"That you will leave for the Archimage?" She made a challenge of it. 
"Nor she. Understand: only experience teaches wisdom. Each of us must learn it 
in our own way and in our own time." 
Before she could think of an answer to make he looked about him. "This is good 
solid earth." He stamped on the soil with one foot. "We can camp safely here until 
dark. We shall even be able to build a fire. A pelrik broiled, or a karuwok —will 
that not be better than adop roots?" 
"We will travel by night?" Now Kadiya wished mostly for a nest of ribbon grass 
—and there was indeed some growing in sight —in which she could curl up and 
sleep. 
"That will be safest until we pass the Upper Mutar River. Perhaps — if Voltrik is 
clever enough — he will approach the Nyssomu as a friend, or under the mask of 
one. Most of us Folk know very little concerning those of your blood, Farseer. To 
some of us you humans seem to be all of one kin, and since we have long trusted 
you Ruwendians it may be that smooth words from the Labornoki will keep us 
from the truth until too late." 
"We can warn your people." Kadiya halted in her energetic pulling of the grass. 
"Perhaps other defeated Ruwendians will escape by river— surely the Nyssomu at 
Trevista would help such who flee." 
Jagun had taken out his pouch of needle-sharp blow-gun darts and was inspecting 
each with care. 
"Farseer, we dare not be seen by any along the Mutar. We have but a short time 
before the Winter Rains, when no one can travel." 
Now he looked up and his golden eyes were webbed with dark veins raised by 
fatigue. Beads of slimy sweat had worked through the insect-repellent paste on his 
face and hands. "You must reach Noth. It lies in the very foothills of the Ohogan 

Mountains more than a hundred leagues to the north. Once we cross the Skritek 
country, we enter the Goldenmire wilderness. We will then need the help of the 
Uisgu." 
Jagun smoothed a small space of ground with the side of his hand and then began 
to draw upon it. 
"This," he made an indentation with one nail, "is where we are now. Here" — he 
drew with nail tip northward — "lies Noth, where we must go-" 
She had heard tales of Noth. Throughout the swamp there were many ruins on 
sturdy outcrops of earth such as the small one they now shared. Some of those 
remnants of an earlier time had not been so ill-treated by age as crumbling 
Trevista, but were said to be as sound as the Citadel. Great treasure was rumored 
to be hidden in some ruined cities. Now and then there appeared at the market in 
Trevista peculiar trinkets and mysterious artifacts which the visiting merchants 
eagerly bargained for. Many were brought in by the shy Uisgu clans who allowed 
their bolder kin, the Nyssomu, to sell on their behalf. Kadiya had heard of human 
adventurers who had ventured north and west seeking forgotten islands and what 
treasure they might hold. Men near crazed by hardships had returned to the 
Citadel, and one had babbled of a city greater than ruined Trevista standing locked 
and silent, its walls unmanned and no way to be found within. And that was Noth, 
or so he had said. 
There might be only wraiths to guard that lost city, but all Ruwenda knew that 
Noth was the hold of the Archimage. Some said that she was of an elder race, out 
of a past when city-crowned islands dotted a great lake. By the history of Kadiya's 
own people, the Archimage had always been. If not the same woman always, then 
one who was twin, and twin, and twin… 
Jagun disappeared and was back before she had finished a second nest of grass for 
his bed place. He swung a pelrik by its broad flat tail and Kadiya proved her worth 
as a traveler in hunting out dry twigs and broken branches to build a neat pile of 
sticks ready for a spark from Jagun's fireshell. He skinned and cleaned his catch 
and quartered it with his hunter's long knife, spitting the raw meat on sticks near 
enough to the fire to roast. 

Kadiya found herself nodding, even though the smell of the cooking meat set her 
mouth watering. She could not remember when she had been so tired — not 
realizing that the horrors just behind her had had their part in draining her 
strength. 
Chapter Six 
Princess Anigel did not recover her wits until her captors had attained the 
brewery. There the Labornoki knights rested, since they were worn out from the 
long climb out of the Citadel's lower levels, which had followed upon a day's 
battle. Sir Rinutar proposed to Prince Antar that they catch their breath and sample 
the Ruwendian liquor, barrels of which stood about on every hand. 
"Well spoken, Rin," said Sir Owanon, "for this Oddling crone is a good deal 
heavier than she looks, and my back is nigh broken." He dropped Immu onto a 
heap of grain sacks. She groaned but kept her great eyes tightly closed. 
Prince Antar cautioned them. "A brief refreshment only, then. King Voltrik and 
the sorcerer will be angered if we delay long in bringing these prisoners for 
questioning. If a one of you drinks to excess, I shall see that the drunken rascal is 
severely punished." 
He set the Princess Anigel down with great gentleness, and smoothed her hair 
before joining his companions at a freshly broached barrel. Beer flowed merrily 
from the bunghole into waiting cannikins and then poured onto the floor. 
"The cravens of Ruwenda brew a fairish batch of suds," said Sir Rinutar, wiping 
his mustaches after taking a long pull. "In fact, it's better than ours by a long 
sight." He drank again, draining the mug, and went for a refill before that barrel 
emptied. 
"Small wonder," whispered Immu, "for ours is aged and eight percent, while the 
Labornoki brew is naught but infant's piddle." 
"This is indeed excellent stuff," said another knight, Sir Penapat. Why can we not 
obtain such back home in Derorguila?" 

"The brewers in Derorguila Town are ever complaining about the antics of beerwitches," 
said Sir Owanon, "blaming suchlike evil dames for souring the brew or 
otherwise making it so often strange to taste. I heard they burnt a beer-witch at the 
stake just before the army marched. She was taken as she lurked about the 
kettlehouse, where she was clearly up to mischief. Women know nothing of 
brewing." 
"Lothok dung!" snapped Immu. Her voice was muffled, for they had thrown her 
on her stomach, but this time her captors heard. 
"Well, flay me alive and nail my hide to the wall," Sir Owanon laughed. "My late 
burden speaks! And saucily, too." 
"Give her a good kick," Rinutar suggested. 
Princess Anigel struggled up, with her hands tied behind her as Immu's were, and 
cried: "Hold off, you ruffian, and for shame! For if you think our beer is good, you 
have Immu to thank for it, since she is the brew-mistress of this Citadel." 
"She lies," growled Sir Rinutar. "What scrawny Oddling hag could understand 
such mysteries?" He gestured at the great copper cookers, the maze of tubing, the 
complex system of troughs that delivered malted grain to the mash tun and then 
transferred the clarified wort to the huge brew-kettle. There were catwalks about 
the rims of these vessels, where the workers could stir and strain and otherwise 
inspect the liquors. 
"I understand brewing very well." Immu, like the Princess, had turned over. Her 
voice was cool and confident. "And only a jelly-brain would blame soured beer on 
imaginary beer-witches. Such happens most times because the kettles and 
fermenting vessels and tubing are not scoured out properly, and fetid growths 
form therein and taint the liquor." 
"Say you true?" Prince Antar was interested. "Perhaps we should let you live, and 
see if you could teach our Labornoki brewers to come up with better drink." 
"A good idea," Sir Owanon said, but others shouted him down, and they began 

then to quarrel, striking the bungs from other barrels and refilling their cannikins 
as they emptied. 
Then they were diverted, for clattering down the steps came General Hamil, 
leading another force of knights. They were also fatigued to the bone, and greeted 
their comrades' discovery with great enthusiasm. 
Hamil came to Antar, who only sipped at his brew, and congratulated him upon 
his capture of Princess Anigel. Then the General took his Lord aside and spoke in 
a low voice, but Anigel and Immu heard it clearly. 
"There has been a dire and portentous happening, my Prince. Milotis and his men 
were searching the upper reaches of the High Tower when they chanced upon 
Princess Haramis and an Oddling companion. They pursued them to the parapet, 
whereupon Haramis stood upon the very brink of the battlement, held tight to an 
amulet around her neck, and called upon the Lords of the Air." 
"So would I have also," the Prince said wryly, "in her position." 
"But two monstrous lammergeiers came," Hamil said, "and bore the two away on 
their backs!" 
The Prince uttered an oath. "Milotis saw this prodigy with his own eyes?" 
"He did. I communicated the news to the mighty Orogastus, who was stricken 
with fury. Milotis and all his men were put to death by order of the King." 
The Prince muttered, "Madness. Milotis was a worthy captain, and how could he 
be expected to counter magic? That is Orogastus's business. And I wonder if he 
will demand my own slaughter, since I snared but one Princess, while the other 
got away." He described Kadiya's escape through the cistern, and Anigel's 
statement that her sister now was in possession of great magic. 
General Hamil came to stand over the two captive women, a terrible figure in 
blood-red armor ornamented with gold. On his red-enameled helmet were 
mounted golden antlers, and the visor was made in the form of a volumnial's skull. 

"Princess Anigel," he demanded, "is it true that your sisters have magic?" 
But the terrified girl only burst into tears, and thrashed about piteously while 
Immu said: "Now look what you've done, you great lummox! By the Flower, I 
know not why the lammergeiers came, but you can be sure no magic was 
involved. Are the three Princesses not triplets? Would not all three possess magic 
if two of them did? Yet here lies poor Anigel in your power." She began to speak 
softly to the girl, but in an urgent manner. 
"The Oddling granny makes good sense,' said the Prince, frowning. "But we had 
better leave all this to Orogastus." He lifted his voice. "Companions, we must quit 
this place now and return to the throne room with our captives." 
Immu left off whispering to the distraught Princess and addressed Prince Antar in 
wheedling tones. "My Lord, have pity on this doomed maiden. Before you carry 
on, untie her briefly and permit her to relieve herself behind yon pile of sacks, lest 
she humiliate herself and soil you." 
Anigel hung her head in shame, and General Hamil chortled and made a crude 
remark. But the Prince knelt and undid Anigel's bonds. She thanked him with a 
woeful countenance and begged that he also release her serving-woman, to help 
with her garments. 
"That I will, but the two of you be quick," said Antar. He made certain that there 
was no exit from the corner behind the sacks, then let the women go. 
"There is another matter I would mention," Hamil said. "The King's hand is much 
inflamed after his being bitten by the rogue squire. He is in a foul temper from the 
pain, and both the royal physician and the sorcerer's Green Voice say that he must 
take to bed with a strong herb poultice over it, and drink hot infusions and rest, 
lest the wound fester and blood poisoning set in." 
"The wizard himself can do nothing?" 
"Evidently not, although he did pronounce an incantation over the poultice-pot. 
He concurs with the diagnosis of his minion and the leech that the King must rest, 

and so the search for the two eloped Princesses will fall upon us." 
"The men are exhausted. They must have several days to recover before an 
intensive search can be mounted. The time can be used to seek out information — 
especially from the Oddlings. The aborigines of the swamp would know where the 
Princesses have gone if any do." 
Hamil nodded. "All Oddlings have fled the Citadel, but we can go to Trevista, that 
ruined ancient city where they have their fair. The turncoat riverman Pellan, who 
commands a fleet of flatboats carrying merchants to Trevista, will cooperate fully. 
And there are those among the Master-Merchants of Labornok who may advise us 
what pressures to put upon the little bog-trotters to gain their help." 
"I will speak to my Royal Father, and see that all is put in order. Perhaps you and I 
and this Pellan can go at daylight to Trevista with a small force, while the rest of 
the army briefly takes its ease. We ourselves can nap on the river." 
"A splendid suggestion, my Prince." 
Antar now frowned and cast an eye about. "The women — where are they?" 
Hamil strode at once to peer behind the piled sacks. "Gone! By the Sacred Bowels 
of Zoto, they are gone! But where?" 
He began shouting orders to the others, and the knights raced about, searching 
every cranny of the great brewery, even though there seemed no way that Immu 
and Anigel could have passed Prince Antar and General Hamil. 
Then, when they were making such a din that no man could hear the other, Prince 
Antar saw the cloddish knight Rinutar go stomping across one of the catwalks that 
circled a great wooden fermentation vat. Suddenly Rinutar began to stagger about 
and push at the air, and howl words that no one could understand, and he 
overbalanced and fell into the foam-topped, strong-smelling liquor with a great 
splash. 
Every man fell silent from astonishment, and then they began roaring with 

laughter. Some went to fish the spluttering Rinutar out. His face was as black with 
fury as his armor was white with suds, and when they had hauled him up he 
screamed: 
"Who pushed me?" 
"Drunken numskull," the Prince said, disgusted. "No one pushed you. You simply 
lost your footing." 
"Nay," Rinutar contradicted stoutly. "I was pushed —and more than that, I heard a 
voice say: 'Take a good long drink' as I fell." 
Many knights greeted this protestation with skeptical guffaws, but General 
Hamil's brow darkened. He bellowed: "Silence, everyone!" 
Every mouth clamped shut. In the sudden stillness that followed one could hear 
dripping beer, and men breathing heavily from exertion… and the quick patter of 
footsteps on the catwalk, and then on the open stairway leading down to the 
tapping room where the barrels were filled. 
"Magic!" Hamil howled. "Magic at work! They have gone invisible! Down to the 
lower level, all! And go softly, damn you, and listen!" 
Anigel, clutching her amulet, whispered anxiously to Immu. "We will be found. 
We are leaving wet footprints!" 
"This way," hissed her invisible companion. "To the dumb-waiter that hoists the 
barrels to the kitchen level." 
They ran to the lift, which was counterweighted and would carry them up with the 
simple release of a lever. Anigel climbed on, but Immu said: "Wait one minute, 
Princess." Her wet footprints turned back and approached a great stack of empty 
kegs waiting in serried ranks to be filled. 
As the knights led by the Labornoki General dashed down the stairway, the pile of 
barrels began to teeter at the end nearest the dumbwaiter. One barrel nudged 

another, and before the knights knew what was happening the whole stack 
collapsed with a rumbling crash. Large kegs and small rolled about, tripping up 
the men and shattering as the knights stamped futilely upon them with mailed feet. 
But the way to the dumb-waiter was blocked completely. 
Princess Anigel let loose of her amulet for a moment from laughing, and so the 
Labornoki saw the two fugitives clearly as they ascended out of sight. 
"I prayed your idea would work," Anigel said, "but I was still sore afraid." 
Immu smiled in the dimness of the Citadel Gatehouse, where they had paused to 
rest, hidden in a deserted sentry kiosk. "But you did not doubt and that was the 
important thing. Hearing that your sister Haramis also escaped with the aid of her 
amulet, you had confidence at last that yours would respond to your command, 
and render us invisible. And it did. So now all we have to do is walk away!" 
Anigel sagged back against the flimsy wall. "Good friend, have mercy and let me 
stay here a little, for if we continue on now, I will surely collapse." 
"Lie easy, sweeting." Immu took off her shawl and tucked it around the girl's 
shoulders. "We are safe for a while. There is no hue and cry out here." 
The Labornoki believed that the Princess and Immu were still inside the central 
keep, and so General Hamil had barred all its doors. But Immu had known of a 
secret exit from the kitchens, where lazy scullions had been wont to slip away 
from their duties. This led to the ward outside the keep, and the two women had 
crossed it swiftly, invisible, dodging knots of Labornoki soldiers dozing around 
their watchfires. 
Although Anigel was exhausted, she felt that she dare not close her eyes, fearing 
that sleep would cancel the beneficent magic that had brought them safely to the 
sentry kiosk. 
"I still can scarce believe that we truly became invisible," she whispered. "The 
talisman would not save me at the rim of the cistern… why did it act later?" 

"At the cistern, you were without hope and mad with fear. In the brewery, more 
useful emotions inclined you to follow my counsel." 
"It's true that I was angry there," the Princess said slowly. "I despised myself for 
the cowardice that had caused us both to be captured. And I was mortified by the 
undignified stratagem that you used to make the villains loose our bonds — " 
Immu chuckled. "Your anger clarified your mind, banishing the fear that 
paralyzed your will. You finally believed me when I bade you call upon your 
amulet's magic. Anger is a much more useful emotion than fear. You must learn to 
make more use of it, sweeting. In the state you now find yourself, meekness and 
dainty manners will do you little good." 
"And magic will?" Anigel spoke wearily. 
"That remains to be seen." 
The Princess was lost in thought for several minutes, then asked: "Do… do your 
people make common use of magic, then?" 
"Oh, no. It is a special thing, not to be invoked lightly. Sometimes it is there and 
sometimes not, no matter how desperately one wishes for its help. For your poor 
Mother and Father, there was no magical assistance — " 
"And that was cruel! It makes no good sense that the King and Queen of Ruwenda 
perish and the country be conquered while magic shields me and my sisters!" 
"Peace, child, peace. Magic is a mystery, like so much of life. It can be wielded 
for good or evil, and we do not always know which is which, any more than we 
really understand what magic is." 
Anigel sighed. "Perhaps the Archimage will tell us." 
She huddled down close to her old nurse and finally her eyes closed; but the 
Princess still held tightly to the trillium amber even when she was sound asleep. 

They had not rested more than two hours when they heard bugle-horns sounding, 
and the soldiers sleeping about the Gatehouse began to awake snarling and 
growling. It was nearly dawn. The men were in an evil mood because looting of 
the Citadel had been forbidden. They built up their fires against the chill, prepared 
scanty breakfasts from field rations, and relieved themselves most offensively in 
any place at all. 
"Don't look outside, Princess," Immu said. "The cultureless bumpkins!" 
"Oh, Immu, I don't care about that. What worries me is what we are to do next. 
How will we ever get to the home of :he Archimage?" 
"Jagun had our escape all planned, and his brother brought a boat. But doubtless 
Jagun and Kadiya have embarked in the punt long ago, giving us up for lost." 
Immu's brow furrowed in thought. "We shall have to find another way to get up 
the Mutar. If we can reach Trevista, my Folk will help us contact the Uisgu, in 
whose lands the ruins of Noth lie." 
"But Trevista is so far away, with the Blackmire lying between it and the Citadel!" 
Outside there was a flourish of trumpets. Immu peered through a crack in the door 
to see what was happening. A knight-commander and his escort came cantering 
into the forecourt of the inner ward, and pulled up not a dozen ells from the guard 
kiosk. There a sergeant-quartermaster was supervising the distribution of supplies 
from a train of covered wagons. The knight said: "The company will move out in 
one hour. We shall march across the Knoll to Ruwenda Market on the western 
side, and there board flatboats for Trevista. Be sure to bring adequate food and 
materiel, and fodder for the beasts." 
The sergeant saluted and the knight wheeled his war-fronial about and clattered 
away with his escort through the Gatehouse and into the outer ward. 
Immu laughed softly. "Our problem is solved. The foemen themselves will carry 
us to Trevista, all unawares! Are you hungry, my child?" 
"Yes, Immu. And very tired." 

"You cannot render us invisible while you sleep, but I think we will be able to find 
a suitable place of concealment after we have had our breakfast." She explained 
her plan, and the eyes of Princess Anigel began to dance, and she hugged the 
Oddling woman. Then Anigel clasped her amulet and made them disappear, and 
they started off to find a suitable wagon. 
Chapter Seven 
High over the fogbound Mazy Mire the lammergeiers flew, carrying Haramis and 
Uzun toward the ruins of Moth. 
When her thudding heart slowed, and her senses told her that what she 
experienced was indeed real and not some fantastic dream, Haramis took stock of 
her situation. She was unharmed, and the appearance of the powerful creature had 
saved her from almost certain death. Was this the magic of the Archimage? Did 
the White Lady retain some power, even though her magic had not been sufficient 
to stand against Orogastus and prevent the invasion of Ruwenda? 
The lammergeier's enormous wings beat strongly and regularly, making a faint 
thrumming sound as they stroked the air. Its white-plumed back was as wide and 
as soft as a bed quilted in down. Haramis sank so deeply into the hollow behind 
the bird's great black-streaked neck that it was hardly necessary to cling tightly to 
the plumage. When they had been aloft for nearly an hour, the lammergeier's 
crested head turned to regard its strange burden, but the dark eyes were mild and 
the toothed beak offered no threat. 
Not knowing whether it understood, she said to it: "My thanks for rescuing me 
and my companion." 
There might have been a miniscule nod, or perhaps not. The creature looked upon 
her no more, but flew steadily onward. Haramis waved to Uzun, but they could 
not converse, since the two lammergeiers were too far apart. 
The world below was a pale cloud deck and in the clear night sky above, familiar 
constellations glittered: the Drawn Bow, the Kettle, the Ladu Tree, the Great 
Worm, the Northern Crown. 

Crown… 
She still had, knotted and slung over one shoulder, the bundled black cloak with 
her Mother's blood on the folds. She divested herself of it, unknotted the fabric, 
and gazed upon the Queen's Crown of State with its finial of trillium amber until 
grief blurred her vision. At least Voltrik does not have you, she thought grimly, 
nor shall he while I live! He killed my parents, but I will live, and Ruwenda will be 
mine! 
She fought back tears, afraid that if she started crying she would not be able to 
stop. I am Queen of Ruwenda now, and it is my duty to safeguard the country and 
it´s people, and to marry and raise my children to continue the task when I am 
gone. Her throat was tight, and it was difficult for her to breathe, but she was 
determined. She was also, however, afraid. I always knew that I would be Queen 
one day—but I never expected it to be so soon… or under this circumstances! I 
hope the White Lady can help me; I certainly am going to need help from 
somewhere! 
Was there truly magic in the strange fossilized blossoms encased in the Crown 
and her amulet, or had it only been good luck that had brought the Archimage's 
lammergeiers to the rescue in the nick of time? 
I shall experiment, she thought. And she took hold of the amulet on its neck-chain, 
closed her eyes, and said, "Transport me instantly to the dwelling of the White 
Lady!" 
But nothing happened, and the lammergeier flew on serenely. 
She tried a simpler request: "Bring me a savory pasty, for I am dying of hunger." 
Again there was nothing, and her stomach contracted painfully. 
So much for magic. Ah, well. What did it matter? 
A profound depression enveloped her. There was no kingdom for her to rule and 
no royal spouse to sit at her side. Haramis tried to be glad, to seek the 

compensations of her present predicament. She had always hated the pomp and 
ceremony of court life, the endless meetings with ministers that her Father had 
patiently endured, the tedious banquets and entertainments her Mother had 
supervised, always surrounded by her twittering ladies. There had been a deeper 
side to Queen Kalanthe as well, for she had written poetry and taken a keen 
interest in the affairs of the less fortunate in Ruwenda, always seeking to improve 
their lot without stifling their initiative. But queenship was a job that Haramis had 
dreaded. Dutiful, she had accepted it as her natural lot. But now her obligation had 
been, at the very least, altered somewhat… 
She snuggled down into the cushiony hollow, letting the wind sing above her, and 
awaited sleep's release. The bundled Crown she tied to her jeweled girdle so that it 
might not be lost. The Archimage would know what to do with it. 
And what to do with her. 
Who was this woman, really? That she was real and not a legend, Haramis no 
longer doubted. The fabulous events at her birth must also now be counted as real, 
and the ominous speech of the Archimage as well. If this White Lady was truly 
nigh unto death, how would she be able to give aid and advice? And why had she 
said so long ago that all would be well? 
These thoughts circled dizzily in her mind, and she mulled over a score of ways 
whereby Ruwenda might yet be saved —and she riding triumphant at the head of 
a Ruwendian host, having herself effectuated the victory. But these were nothing 
but foolish fantasies. She was seventeen, clever and book-learned beyond a doubt, 
but hardly a war-leader. If this Archimage had chosen her as an instrument of 
destiny, she must be senile indeed… 
I shall have to be on my guard, Haramis thought. Who know´s what foolhardy 
schemes the old woman may urge upon me? But I shall be wary, and form my own 
decisions. I am Queen now and the responsibility is mine, no matter who advises 
me. I must not meekly submit to another´s will. 
Trillium or no trillium. 
When she woke it was dawn, and the two lammergeiers still flew on. The Ohogan 

range now thrust up to fill fully half of the sky, forbidding fangs of granite and 
basalt, entirely snowclad above the tree-line. Rosy sunlight gave the glaciers and 
icefields a false softness. Haramis looked on them with a sinking heart. What if 
the Archimage told her that her destiny lay up there? 
The mist was burning off the marshland below as the sun grew stronger, and the 
land was changing from jungle into a vast undulating sea of tall grass, yellowish 
in color, unlike any part of the Mazy Mire she had ever seen before. Only rare 
patches of dry land broke the monotonous wet plain. These slight elevations had 
hardwood trees, shrubs, and other green vegetation upon them — and, she 
supposed, the secret habitations of the Uisgu, those diminutive kin to the Nyssomu 
who dwelt in the northern reaches of the Mazy Mire. 
There were aborigines in the mountains also, she knew, called Vispi; but humans 
had no contact with them. Further east, where the range was cleft by the Vispir 
Pass, the men who had stood guard claimed that the elusive Vispi emerged on 
moonlit nights to dance on the new-fallen snow. And there were horror stories of 
the mountain Oddlings as well. They were called the demons of the frozen mist, 
and their eyes glared from the icy whirlwind, and it was said that those who 
looked upon them died. Nevertheless, no one doubted that the Vispi were real folk 
and not supernatural, for they traded gemstones and precious metals to the Uisgu. 
These eventually made their way to human markets via the Nyssomu, and the 
Vispi demanded in return certain foodstuffs, sturdy domestic animals such as 
fronials and volumnials, woven fabrics, and a few other trade items. But what the 
beings really looked like, no human being could tell — except perhaps those 
luckless ancient armies of Labornok who had dared the Vispir Pass ages ago and 
(if the old stories were to be believed) perished at the hands of these minions of 
the Guardian White Lady. 
Sunlight reflected mirrorlike from the Goldenmire pools and small rivers as the 
day advanced. Haramis spied now and then thin twisting water-trails, which she 
presumed were the thoroughfares of the Uisgu. Then, after more hours during 
which they followed the course of a somewhat larger river northward, the terrain 
rose and the Goldenmire came to an end in foothills thinly forested with strange 
trees, interspersed with flower-decked highland bogs. The lammergeiers began to 
circle round and round, descending. 
There were ruins down there, beside the river, all overgrown with creepers and 

with trees perched boldly on tumbledown walls and poking up through broken 
cupolas. Unlike her sister Kadiya, Haramis had no wish to explore such sites. 
Only the peculiar artifacts they contained interested her. She had owned a few — 
a small featureless box that played a different ethereal tune when set on each of its 
several sides, a writing instrument that seemed never to run dry of ink, and a 
weird bracelet of some unknown hard, white substance that was not bone, nor 
wood, nor any mineral the sages of Ruwenda knew. The Vanished Ones had 
certainly had some power, but their secrets had been lost long ago. If, however, 
the Archimage did truly share in the ancient wisdom, then Haramis might still 
have some faint chance of fulfilling her birth-prophecy. 
She clutched the amulet automatically, praying: "But dear God and Lords of the 
Air, let me not be deceived! Above all, let me not be encouraged to rash behavior, 
then fail. I could not bear to fail!" 
They were floating slowly, in a long shallow glide, approaching a small stone 
structure, towerlike in shape, that was almost buried in thick greenery. The 
winged creatures touched down softly on a kind of natural lawn all dotted with 
bright wildflowers that spread out before a lowered drawbridge. There were also 
water-blossoms of vivid blue growing in the moat, and a sweet fragrance in the 
air. 
Haramis slid from the lammergeier's back and curtseyed low to it. "My fervent 
thanks to you, master of the sky, for having brought me and my good servant to 
this safe haven." 
When she lifted her head, the two lammergeiers had already taken wing. They 
both uttered clarion cries before disappearing beyond the trees. 
Uzun stood beside her. He was a sadly comical sight, his beret lost, his long silky 
hair all snarled from the wind, and his once dapper maroon velvet smock stained 
and rumpled. But his grin was indomitable. 
"Here we are," he chirped. "Let us enter, for our arrival has been announced by the 
lammergeiers." 
Slowly, they walked across the meadow to the drawbridge. The building was 

shrouded in moss and girt about with tiny lacy ferns, each hewn stone softened in 
outline by flowers springing forth from the crumbling mortar. Plants grew on the 
bridge planking as well. The Princess stepped gingerly for fear of rot, but the span 
seemed sturdy enough. There were no retainers about to give welcome, no sign 
that any person inhabited the overgrown pile at all. But Uzun strode forward 
confidently, and Haramis followed, marveling at strangely carved pillars and wallpanels, 
and ornate floor mosaics barely visible through the mosses and lichens 
underfoot. They passed a splashing fountain, and went through archways hung 
with dripping strands of vines, into tangled gardens glorious with flowers of many 
colors. 
They stopped at last in front of a wooden door of polished black wood with no 
moss upon it, but having hinges and fittings and a great ring-latch of what 
appeared to be solid gold. In the center was a carved ornament fashioned from the 
same wood, all fimbriate with shining platinum; and it had the image of a Black 
Trillium. 
"This is the chamber of the Archimage Binah herself," Uzun said. "But only you 
may enter." He bowed to Haramis, and stepped back. 
She hesitated. "But—you must accompany me!" 
"Nay, my Princess. I will wait for you." 
Haramis drew herself up. "Very well." Forcing her hand not to tremble, she took 
hold of the golden ring and pulled. The tall door swung open easily, and she 
stepped inside. 
The room was dim and warm, without windows. There were many pieces of 
furniture half visible in it — cupboards and presses and bookshelves and tables 
strewn with strange implements, padded stools and settles, and a huge bed with 
dark hangings. At one wall was a hearth with a small peat fire burning, and before 
it stood a handsome table with a single place-setting of crystal, and a golden knife 
and spoon. Covered golden dishes steamed and gave forth a delicious smell. A 
flagon of honey-wine stood by, and a beautiful lamp with a shade of leaded 
opalescent glass cast light over all. There were two carved chairs, one before the 
food and another opposite, before which on the table sat a plainly wrought small 

casket of platinum, very dented and battered and dulled from long use. 
"Welcome, my child," said a soft but resonant voice. "I have been waiting for 
you." 
Haramis started, and looked about, and saw a pale shape move in the great bed. 
"My Lady?" she said, curtseying almost automatically. 
"Come and assist me, and I will sit with you while you dine." 
Wondering, Haramis asked, "Are you the Archimage Binah?" 
"I am she. Do not be afraid. I am the one who stood by at your birth and who 
summoned you here. I have long awaited your coming and that of your sisters, and 
I give thanks that you have arrived safely." 
Haramis stood stock-still. "Kadiya and Anigel — they are alive?" 
"They are. Do not worry about them now, for they must follow their own paths 
and you yours. Come. Help me to enrobe." 
Haramis could not move. A great fear had taken hold of her. She knew now that, 
like it or not, she was going to have to embark on some terrible adventure. 
In the bed lay a woman with beautiful flowing white hair, who sat up slowly and 
beckoned to the girl. Her face was smooth and unlined, and only her eyes, darkshadowed 
and set so deep in the skull that their color was unguessable, betrayed 
her great age. Her gaze ensnared Haramis and drew her forward with irresistible 
power. Haramis set down the Crown bundle on the floor and walked in terror to 
the bed. But then she was suddenly set free, and the panic left her, and it seemed 
that the person sitting there was only a poor sick old woman needing help. 
Haramis assisted the Archimage to don a long white robe that shimmered blue in 
its foldings, and put fur slippers on her long, slender feet. When the woman stood 
up, Haramis saw that she was very tall. Her figure was not stooped, but erect and 
supple, and she moved slowly to the table before the fire and sat down. 

"Please be seated also, my child, and eat. You must be famished after your ordeal 
at the Citadel and your journey here." 
"My companion, the musician Uzun — " Haramis began. 
"He is being attended to by my own steward, Damatole, and will not want for rest 
and refreshment." 
"I thank you," Haramis said, "for I owe my life to him, and I would not have him 
suffer for his devotion to me." 
Then she fell upon the food with the fierce appetite of the young and healthy, for 
she had not eaten since the previous morning. There was a roast fowl, and creamy 
soup with pungent herbs, and a dish of baked dorun tubers all crusted with brown 
alga-cheese, and a bitter-cress salad, and a tartlet full of some plump, unknown 
fruit that was tangy on her palate after the heavy repast — of which Haramis 
devoured the last crumb. 
Then she sighed, and sat back sipping at the exquisite wine. The Archimage 
smiled, and Haramis laughed ruefully and said: "I did not even think to wash my 
hands before dining. And I gobbled your delicious meal like an ill-bred serf. For 
this lack of good manners, I beg your pardon, Lady Binah. I would clear the table 
and clean up the dishes in amends, but I confess I do not know how such scullery 
matters are managed." 
"Here in Noth," said the Archimage, "one fortunately need not bother with 
trivialities." She gestured, whereupon the table was clear of all except the wineflagon, 
Haramis"s goblet, and the mysterious platinum casket. 
"So you are a sorceress indeed," murmured the girl. 
"Such tricks require only small skill," Binah admitted. "It is the larger 
enchantments that are now beyond my waning powers." 
"Since your lammergeiers brought me here, I suppose you know what has 

happened." 
"The great flyers are not mine," the sorceress corrected. "They are free creatures, 
belonging only to themselves. It is true that I bade them bring you, for they may 
choose to obey certain of their friends. As to your question —yes, I do know what 
has happened. I have seen it all, and wept for my impotence to prevent it." 
Haramis preserved a neutral expression. "Your mastery of magic is then 
insufficient to deliver Ruwenda from the murderer Voltrik and his conjurer 
Orogastus?" 
"Even so. I warn you not to underestimate Orogastus, my child. He is no common 
trickster as are the magicians of your limited acquaintance. He is a man of 
profound accomplishment who not only commands the storm but holds the key to 
many other fearsome enchantments. He seeks power wherever he can find it and 
use it as he wills for his own purposes. He now transcends me in all powers save 
that of fargazing; for this he requires the ice-mirror hidden deep in his mountain 
lair." 
"Then you cannot help me to bring down Ruwenda's enemies?" 
"I did not say that. But the restoration of Ruwenda is a threefold task requiring the 
cooperation of all three of the Trillium's Petals — " 
"You mean my sisters?" Haramis's voice was horrified and incredulous. "I don't 
think we may depend on them for very much constructive aid. I had to restrain 
Kadiya from rushing out to attack our Mother's murderers with her belt-knife! 
And Anigel does nothing but huddle in a corner and weep." 
"Nevertheless, my Sight assures me that all three of you must accomplish your 
foreordained tasks, mastering your own selves above all, before Ruwenda may 
cast off the yoke of Labornok. And if any one of you fails, all fail." 
"But that's not fair!" Haramis protested. 
"No." The Archimage spoke gently. "That is only how it is." 

Disgruntled, Haramis fingered her trillium amulet. "I had thought that these tokens 
of ours, which you gave us, were magical. But when I put this one to the test, it 
failed." 
"They can only assist you in times of mortal danger, and their powers are limited." 
"So I discovered," Haramis sighed. "Well, my first prayer was well-answered, and 
my second and third were not so urgent as I then thought. Is this amulet to have a 
role in the tasks you will assign me?" 
"That I do not know. You must find out its secrets, just as you must learn the 
secret within you and conquer the flaws and weaknesses that would deflect you 
from your destiny. But this I do know: when your preliminary work is 
accomplished, then you will be given a sign. A new talisman, the Three-Winged 
Circle, will come to you. Then you will know that the final struggle for Ruwenda 
and for your own soul is at hand." 
"And my sisters?" 
"They will have their own work. And, if they succeed, their own talismans. The 
Three Petals of the Trillium will then call out to one another and unite, and from 
this will come the resolution — the restoration of the lost balance of the world." 
Haramis slumped in her chair. "This task. Must I begin it at once? I am so weary. 
And I mean you no disrespect, but what you say is hard to believe. I did not even 
believe in your existence — " 
"What you believe, even at this moment, does not matter, for you are worn down 
from sorrow and fear. You must pray for strength and courage, and above all you 
must learn to trust yourself and the Triune Power that loves and guides us all." 
Haramis uttered an ironic small laugh. "I am in sore need of more concrete help." 
"The aborigines will help you on your quest as they are able — the Folk of the 
swamp, the forest, and the mountains. They revere the Black Trillium, as do the 

human inhabitants of Ruwenda." 
"Am I to take Uzun with me? He is elderly —" 
"He will accompany you part way on the long journey you must now undertake. It 
is our destiny to help you achieve yours. But the greatest challenges you must face 
alone." 
Haramis was lost in introspection, staring at the peat flames burning low in the 
hearth, and fingering her amulet. "Can you tell me the nature of this soulperfecting 
quest?" 
"No. But you will know it." 
She cried out, "Can you do anything to help me, aside from this supper and your 
advice and good wishes?" 
"That I can." 
The Archimage opened the platinum casket and reached inside with both hands. 
Lifting, she rose to her feet, and in some miraculous manner she brought out a 
great green growing plant, much larger than could have fit inside the casket by 
any normal means. It was a trillium nearly as tall as Haramis herself, bare-rooted, 
with spreading glossy leaves, and seedpods, and a myriad of night-black blossoms 
each as large as an outstretched hand. This the Archimage set upon the table. 
Haramis cried out in astonishment. "How beautiful! And it is alive, not a tiny 
fossil entombed in amber!" 
"It is the last living Black Trillium plant in the known world." 
"And through it we three shall conquer King Voltrik and Orogastus! I know this is 
true, Binah! I know it!" Haramis sprang to her feet, all weariness fallen away, 
drinking in the sight of the wondrous plant whose flowers were the color of her 
hair. 

The enchantress stretched out her hand and plucked something from beneath one 
of the great leaves. This she pressed into Haramis's palm and closed the girl's 
fingers about it. Then she lifted the plant, somehow put it again into the small 
platinum casket, and lowered the lid. 
Haramis blinked as though a bright light had been extinguished, along with the 
certainty she had just felt. "But… is that all?" 
The Archimage took her by the arm and led her to the outer door. "What I have 
given you will set you on your way. I shall keep the Crown of Ruwenda safe here 
for you. No enemy shall ever touch it. Only remember that Orogastus, not King 
Voltrik, is your true enemy. But he lives by the laws of magic, which declare that 
for every strength there must be a corresponding vulnerability or weakness. If you 
can find his weakness and vanquish your own, you will triumph. I can tell you no 
more. Now you must go. When you achieve your goal of the Three-Winged 
Circle, return to me." 
"But what is the Three-Winged Circle?" Haramis asked anxiously. 
"You will know it when you find it," Binah assured her. "Farewell." 
Suddenly Haramis stood again on the flower-strewn greensward before the mossy 
tower, and Uzun was beside her, dressed in fresh new clothes. She looked down 
and saw that her own dirty and wilted white gown and cloak had disappeared, and 
she now wore a suit of white wool trimmed with albino fedok-fur, over which lay 
the amulet on its chain, and a fur-lined cloak, and strong white-leather boots. On 
the ground lay two knapsacks, and two stout walking sticks with iron-shod points. 
"I am ready, Princess," Uzun said. He grinned up at her, and his round cheeks 
were as rosy as ripe cloudberries. "The White Lady has even given me a new 
fipple flute, so that I can cheer our journey with music!" 
"But which way are we to go?" Haramis clenched her hands in vexation. Then she 
was reminded that the Archimage had put something in her hand. She uncurled 
her fingers, and in her palm lay a pod of the Black Trillium, dry and shiny. 
Unthinking, she cracked it open. Inside were rows of winged seeds. Again without 
conscious thought she plucked one seed forth and cast it into the air. To her 

surprise, instead of drifting off on the wind, it floated northward, toward the 
mountains. 
The way seemed a trackless high bogland. But then Haramis looked more closely, 
following the floating seed, and saw a faint path, such as might have been made 
by a small animal moving through the grass tufts and sedges. 
"So," said she. "I suppose this is as good a guide as we may expect. Shall we 
start?" 
Her eye fixed on the tiny floating speck of white, she hoisted her pack, took up the 
stick, and led the way into the bog, Uzun following at her heels. 
Chapter Eight 
It was mid-afternoon when the lookout on the leading flat-boat sang out: "Trevista 
in view!" 
The trade-guide Pellan, who was the skipper in charge of the improvised 
Labornoki flotilla, raised a small golden horn to his lips and blew a three-note call. 
Immediately the rowers in all fourteen of the boats lifted their sweeps, and crews 
in the bow and stern of each craft dropped anchors into the shallow muddy water. 
Pellan sounded another more complex horn-call and gave orders for the sweating 
rivermen to take their ease. 
A bellow of fury arose from the foredeck, and a gravelly voice shouted Pellan's 
name, embroidered with colorful obscenities. In spite of the fact that the journey 
up-river from the Citadel had been completed in record time, General Hamil had 
still discovered something fresh to complain about. 
Sighing, the skipper made his way from the tiller-house in the stern-sheets across 
the smelly afterdeck. Unlike the other boats in the train, this one did not carry 
supply wagons or draft animals. But the mounts of the high nobility were tethered 
back here (God only knowing what use the conquerors hoped to make of them in 
the trackless swamps around Trevista), together with their feed and tack, leather 
sacks full of arms and armor, and a gang of twenty or thirty hostlers, soldiers, and 
assorted lackeys who lounged about gambling, snoozing, or trading bitter jests 

with the oarsmen. 
Pellan paused at the little midships deckhouse that housed the galley and his own 
small accommodation — the latter commandeered by the sorcerer Orogastus and 
his two malevolent attendants —to order the messmen to serve a sizable ration of 
wine to the exhausted rowers and a token drink to the Labornoki commoners to 
forestall grumbling. 
Then he slipped past a knot of sergeants, who glowered at him because the 
flotilla's halt had deprived them of the cooling breeze of passage, and arrived at 
last on the foredeck. An awning had been erected there to shade the privileged 
passengers, who included Prince Antar's knightly party, General Hamil and the 
handful of ranking officers he had brought on the reconnoitering expedition, and 
the Master-Trader Edzar, newly dubbed official spokesman to the Trevista 
aborigines on behalf of the occupying forces of Labornok. 
Most of the younger knights were hanging over the rails, peering into the distance 
in a vain attempt to catch a glimpse of the fabulous Oddling city. Without their 
flamboyant enameled armor they were a rough and tatty-looking crew, dressed in 
rusty, sweat-stained smocks and trews. The nobles and high officers were 
similarly attired in a simple style of undress, distinguished from the knights' only 
for being fairly clean. The stout Master-Trader, on the other hand, was as 
elaborately garbed as a courtier at a royal audience, wearing his guild's goldembroidered 
green tabard over a gauzy robe of cadmium-orange. His ensemble 
was topped off by an extraordinary broad-brimmed hat woven of a green leafy 
material and decorated with a band of living flowers. 
"Why have we stopped?" General Hamil demanded rudely of Pellan. "If that's 
Trevista up ahead there, then shake your lazy tail and get a move on! You were 
told we wanted to get there as quickly as possible." 
The flotilla had come to a standstill out in the middle of the Lower Mutar, which 
was so broad at this point that the Blackmire banks were nearly a league away on 
either side. Pellan gave a negligent salute to the scowling officer. "We must 
follow the Master-Traders' Protocols, my General, and wait for our Nyssomu 
escort into Trevista." 

"Traders?!" exclaimed the Labornoki commander-in-chief. "We're not a pack of 
peddlers, we're conquerors —and we follow no Protocols but our own! Up anchor, 
you slugwit, and move on!" 
"Sir, that would be most unwise. I couldn't take responsibility for what might 
happen." The Ruwendian turncoat had a face as brown and tough as the old 
leather garments he wore. His jowls were scratchy with white stubble from their 
three-day journey upstream, and his expression verged on the insolent. "These 
wild Oddlings are a touchy lot. No telling what they'd do if we just barged into 
Trevista on our own —" 
"Ruwenda is ours and we do as we please!" Hamil roared. He drew his sword. 
"Now get a move on, or I'll ventilate your gullet!" 
Pellan, unperturbed by the threat, turned to the Labornoki Master-Trader, who had 
been regaling the General and his cronies with stories of the fabulous hidden cities 
of the Vanished Ones. "You talk to him, Master Edzar. He just doesn't seem to 
understand the situation—" The boatman's voice broke off in a screech as Hamil 
gripped a handful of his grizzled hair and raised his sword. 
"General! Hold, I say!" 
Prince Antar, who had suffered from a mood of dejection throughout most of the 
journey and was sitting by himself up in the bows, pushed through the crowd of 
knights, who were waiting hopefully for bloodshed, and confronted the burly old 
soldier. Grudgingly, Hamil let the skipper go. Pellan scuttled out of reach and the 
Master-Trader stepped forward to bow to the Prince. 
"Do let me explain, High Lord. I assure you that our new ally Pellan has only the 
best interests of Labornok at heart." 
"He'd better," Hamil muttered, "or he'll find himself at the bottom of the Mutar 
with swamp-worms nibbling on his family jewels." 
Most of the knights laughed, but the Prince said, "Say on, Master Edzar." 

"Yonder lies Trevista." The Master-Trader gestured directly upstream toward a 
mass of low hillocks, distant blobs of green with deep purple shadows that 
shimmered in the heat-haze and filled the main channel of the Mutar from one 
side to the other. "It lies on that group of islands, at the confluence of the Vispar 
River and the Upper Mutar. But the place is not the kind of city that we Labornoki 
are familiar with — nor even the Ruwendians — and the so-called Trevista Fair is 
not an event that always takes place in the same location. Rather, it moves about 
Trevista as the mood strikes the local Nyssomu, so that not even trader-guides 
such as our worthy friend Pellan may say for certain where it may be found this 
day." 
Osorkon, Hamil's gargantuan deputy, gave a derisive snort. "A city on an island 
— and you can't track down a wretched Oddling market even if it does skip about 
like a springfish on hot mud." 
"Trevista does not lie on one island, Lord Osorkon." Edzar's hand swept the 
horizon. "It is on all of them." 
The company gasped. 
"It is —or was —the crowning architectural glory of the Vanished Ones. Beside it, 
the immensity of Ruwenda Citadel is but a crude stronghold, a refuge against 
whatever disaster ultimately brought down the ancient race. Every one of those 
hundreds of islands is crowded with ruins, and between them is an intricate maze 
of canals with walls sunk deep into the riverbed. There are watergates, huge 
bridges, crumbling dockyards — every manner of riparian structure, to say 
nothing of derelict public buildings, gorgeous decayed dwellings, and great plazas 
and arcades all choked with dense jungle growth in places where the Nyssomu 
have forborne to interfere." 
"How much of the city is inhabited by the aborigines?" the Prince asked. 
"No one knows, High Lord. The wildling Nyssomu disdain social contact with 
humanity. We traders are led to the fair location, and there the individual Oddlings 
proffer such goods as they think will interest us." Avoiding Hamil's glare, he 
added: "If this flotilla were to penetrate Trevista without permission —you will 
notice that I do not say unannounced, because they always know when we are 

coming — it is likely that not a single Nyssomu would condescend to show its 
face. We would find the place deserted. As for invading Trevista with a view to 
conquest, such a venture would be futile. The value of that vast assemblage of 
ruins lies only in its tradegoods, and for those we must cultivate the good will of 
the Oddlings." 
"Well spoken, Master Edzar." The Prince cast a meaningful look at the General. 
"And if we do gain their confidence — assuring them that trade will continue 
without a break under Labornok's rule of Ruwenda—do you believe that they will 
cooperate?" 
"One can hope so, High Lord." 
"We're damn well going to establish a Trevista garrison!" Hamil declared. "That 
was King Voltrik's order. And those little swamp-stompers had better not collude 
in any treason with the fugitive Princesses if they know what's good for them!" 
"It's clear," said the Prince quietly, "that Nyssomu loyalties are stronger for the 
Princesses than for us. We shall have to locate the girls by subtlety rather than by 
a crude show of force." His gaze swept the assembled knights, finally coming to 
rest on the face of General Hamil. "Is that clear?" 
"Perfectly," Hamil rumbled, adding a belated, "my Prince." 
"Wherry from Trevista in view!" the lookout sang. 
Most of the knights rushed back to the rails to watch the approach of the strange 
little craft. It was not propelled by oars or a sail, yet came toward the flatboat train 
at a high rate of speed, leaving a gleaming V-shaped wake on the sluggish water. 
It seemed to carry a single occupant and it was lavishly decorated with flowers 
from stem to stern. 
"What in the world provides its motive power?" asked the amazed Sir Owanon. 
Pellan, well out of General Hamil's reach and with his dignity restored, replied: "It 
is hauled along by a pair of rimoriks, aquatic creatures resembling large pelriks. 

Unfortunately, the beasts resist domestication by humans. Even among the 
Nyssomu, not too many have the knack of driving them, for this is a trick they 
must learn from their unsociable cousins, the Uisgu. Members of this latter tribe 
come regularly to Trevista, bringing trade items from the northern reaches of the 
Mire." 
The Prince took Edzar by the shoulder and led him apart from the others, toward 
the midships deckhouse. "Explain to me what you meant by our flotilla not being 
unannounced. Do you mean to say that the Trevista Oddlings have been able to 
keep track of our voyaging, in spite of the double-time pace we maintained 
coming up-river?" 
The Master-Trader shrugged. "High Lord, they speak to one another at a distance, 
using speech without words, even as the Lord Orogastus bespeaks his attendant 
Voices." 
The door to Pellan's cabin opened so abruptly that both the Prince and the Master 
started. The tall, black-and-white-clad sorcerer himself stood there, hooded so that 
the upper part of his face was in deep shadow. Behind him were two other caped 
and cowled figures, the acolytes known as Voices, a stocky one dressed in red and 
a tall rangy one wearing blue. 
"That is correct," Orogastus intoned. "The nonhumans employ a crude form of 
telepathy, and on occasion are even able to descry events at a distance through the 
Sight —although their command of both powers is greatly inferior to my own." 
The Prince ordered the Master-Trader to leave them; and when the man was gone 
he said coldly to Orogastus: "Grand Minister, you never spoke of this to me 
before." 
"There was no need. The matter was of no consequence during the invasion, and 
we never intended to wage war on the aborigines. On the contrary… We will be 
making very good use of the creatures." 
"Then you have a plan for gaining an alliance with these small Oddlings, as we 
did with the Skritek? My Royal Father hinted as much to me during the march to 
the Citadel." Antar spoke stiffly, his manner combining deference and resentment. 

Even though he was six-and-twenty years of age, neither the King nor his 
mysterious Grand Minister of State had seen fit to confide any of their long-range 
plans to him. 
"With certain of the tribes, when the time is ripe, we will enter into political 
alliance." Orogastus waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. "Not with these 
paltry Nyssomu, however. They are only useful to us for the herbs, spices, and 
other products of the swamp that they sell. They have long since gleaned the most 
interesting antique artifacts from Trevista itself and from the nearer abandoned 
cities, and because of their close ties to the fallen Ruwendians I do not trust them 
to exert themselves in supplying us with fresh quantities of the ancient devices. 
However, one way or another I intend to have Oddlings loyal to us comb the more 
remote parts of the Mazy Mire, where I know that there are hidden certain 
extraordinary magical machines of the Vanished Ones. These, properly utilized, 
will enable Labornok to extend its rule not only across the entire Peninsula—but 
eventually throughout the known world." 
The Prince felt his heart contract. So this was why King Voltrik had appointed this 
upstart his Grand Minister, against the advice of his more conservative 
counselors! Was the sorcerer merely playing upon Voltrik's credulity, or might the 
mad scheme have a basis in fact? 
Antar's face showed tolerant skepticism. "So say you? Labornok one day rule the 
world — ? No wonder you were so determined that we should declare war on 
Ruwenda! But this, too, is news to me. What is the nature of this portentous 
gadgetry you seek, and how do you have knowledge of it?" 
"We will discuss this another time, my Prince. The boat from Trevista is almost 
upon us, and your request involves matters of the highest royal policy that must be 
enunciated by the King himself." 
A sibilant whisper came from the crimson-robed minion behind the sorcerer, and 
Orogastus nodded. 
"The Red Voice reminds me to inform you that your Royal Father's condition has 
somewhat worsened. My Green Voice in attendance at his bedside bespoke the 
news to us just a short time ago. King Voltrik suffers from fever, and his wounded 

hand has become afflicted with noxious humors. I have directed my Green Voice 
to administer the most potent remedy at my command, the Golden Pastille. This 
should bring relief to our King within two or three days." 
The Prince frowned. "Why was not this miracle pill given earlier?" 
"It is a medication of the Vanished Ones, my Prince, in very short supply and 
suited only to the treatment of life-threatening ailments. I had hoped that King 
Voltrik's wound would respond to the usual ministrations of the royal physician. 
Since it has not, the more drastic therapy of the Golden Pastille is indicated." 
"And this will certainly cure him?" 
The sorcerer hesitated. "I have never known it to fail. But I have dared to use it 
only five times before —thrice upon myself, once upon the Blue Voice, and once 
upon the late Princess Shonda, your father's second wife, when a thorn-wound in 
her foot became mortified. Your Royal Father's injury is, unfortunately, of a 
peculiarly dangerous sort. This is why I farspeak my attending acolyte at frequent 
intervals and also keep a close watch upon our King by means of the Sight." 
Prince Antar's face was somber, lost in thought. "I will remember my Royal 
Father in my prayers… And you should also most fervently commend our King to 
whatever exotic gods you acknowledge, sorcerer. For if Voltrik should die, the 
grief of Labornok will be profound. And who knows what brave plans may then 
be confounded?" 
Antar turned abruptly, and went away. 
The Red Voice whispered: "That one will be less pliable than his father, Almighty 
Master." 
The lanky Blue Voice, who stood close behind the right shoulder of the enchanter, 
murmured: "It would be our pleasure to arrange for his reconciliation." 
"No," said Orogastus firmly. "Not yet. But your zeal pleases me. And when the 
appropriate moment does arrive you shall be assigned the task of modifying the 

princely attitude, and be richly rewarded for your successful efforts." 
Chapter Nine 
The flower-bedecked Nyssomu wherry, proceeding at a more stately pace, 
conducted the flotilla to Trevista's outermost island, which was evidently the 
destination of choice. The blood-red banner of Labornok was now held high in the 
bows of the leading flatboat by Lord Osorkon, and the knights and the troops 
aboard the other thirteen boats carrying the supply wagons had donned their armor 
and capes to present an imposing appearance when they entered the city. 
"A pity we won't be going to the inner islands this time," Master-Trader Edzar 
remarked cheerfully. "There are some spectacular bridges and a remarkable ruin 
of an astronomical observatory in there, with curious pedestals remaining where 
some sort of arcane equipment once stood. However, I think you'll find that this 
outer island is rather interesting, and the important thing isn't sight-seeing, after 
all, but a satisfactory initial meeting with the Discerner Frolotu and her 
associates." 
"This Discerner is the female ruler of Trevista that you spoke of earlier?" Prince 
Antar inquired. He and his men and the army officers were also attired in their 
armor now, and Antar wore a coronet on his winged blue helmet. 
"The Discerner doesn't rule, my Prince, she only speaks on behalf of her people 
and acts as a liaison between the Master-Traders and the Nyssomu. But she is the 
closest thing to a central authority that the city has — and just about impossible to 
hoodwink. It's said she can read minds." 
"And is this true?" Orogastus asked, stepping forward with his two assistants to 
join the others on the foredeck. 
The Master cleared his throat nervously. "I can't say for certain, my Lord. In my 
own experience, she has shown uncanny insight into one's disposition.— if you 
take my meaning." 
"You mean," Antar stated, cutting off a response by the sorcerer, "that this 
Discerner knows a true-speaker from a liar." 

"Almost certainly. And —uh —this will present difficulties in our negotiations. 
Especially as regards the search for the Princesses. We will have to be tactful—" 
"Damn your tact!" General Hamil exploded. "If the Oddlings refuse to help us in 
our search, then we'll take hostages and force them. Perhaps this Discerner herself 
would like a taste of Lord Osorkon's famous hospitality!" 
Hamil's deputy, who was once again clad in fearsome black-painted plate, gave a 
sardonic laugh. "It would be my privilege." 
Edzar shrugged. "If you took Discerner Frolotu prisoner, the Nyssomu would 
simply appoint another Discerner. And it's very likely that the whole tribe would 
vanish like the mist at noontide, and our trade with them would be terminated. As 
I have tried to explain, my General, our options in dealing with these peculiar 
creatures are limited." 
Hamil swung about to address the sorcerer. "Then you must use your magic to 
coerce them!" 
"We will see," Orogastus replied smoothly. 
"Since I am in command of this expedition," Prince Antar said, "let it be 
understood that I will be the only one to negotiate with this Discerner, Labornok's 
invasion of Ruwenda was undertaken for one principal reason: to redress our 
longstanding trade grievances and ensure a steady supply of vital commodities 
such as minerals and timber. I speak for my Royal Father when I say that nothing 
must jeopardize that trade. Not the Grand Minister of State's coveting of 
mysterious ancient gimcracks — and most especially not our General's 
singleminded pursuit of the three luckless girls. You will obey me in this!" 
"Certainly, my Prince," said Orogastus, smiling. 
Hamil's eyes darted back and forth between Antar, whose cadre of twenty fully 
armed knights had unobtrusively moved in to stand by him, and the sorcerer with 
his enigmatic attending Voices. Finally he said: "I am a soldier who follows the 

orders of my King, and it is true that he has set you, my Prince, in authority over 
this expedition. Therefore I will do as you say — unless King Voltrik himself 
should command otherwise." 
Antar sighed. "That will suffice." He relaxed visibly and so did all his knights, and 
then everyone hurriedly returned to the rails so as not to miss the first close view 
of Trevista. 
The wherry with its lone Nyssomu pilot led the procession into a channel that 
seemed nothing more than an opening into thick jungle. Gigantic trees of an 
unfamiliar species, with subsidiary trunks like flying buttresses, soared up several 
hundred ells high. They formed an emerald ceiling above tangled undergrowth 
that seemed even more rankly impenetrable than any part of the Mire that the 
invaders had already traversed. At the edge of the channel were masses of strange 
plants with varicolored red-and-green leaves the size of doors, their midribs and 
veins all studded with golden spines. Vines as thick as cables, bearing swags of 
purple, white, and pink flowers, hung from the overarching tree buttresses and 
trailed languidly in the dark water. The muggy air was full of lush fragrances and 
the less pleasant smell of decay. Birds, insects, and other forest creatures set up a 
shrieking cacophony just as soon as the boats entered the channel, and this lasted 
until the aborigine in the wherry climbed to his feet and uttered a shrill, warbling 
cry. 
Suddenly silence prevailed, except for the slow dipping of the oars. The Master- 
Trader Edzar pointed wordlessly ahead as the flotilla swung slowly around a bend. 
At first the men of Labornok could discern nothing but a continuing expanse of 
greenery. But then, as if their eyes became accustomed to a new manner of seeing, 
monumental shapes began to loom up on every hand, all but buried in the rampant 
vegetation. There were dwellings — palaces, rather — that made the mansions of 
Derorguila seem like peasant huts. They stood shoulder to shoulder along the 
water, splendid even in desolation, and their foundations formed the walls of a 
great canal fifty ells wide. The knights and soldiers gawked and yelped like 
excited children as they floated past one wonder after another. 
Examples of magnificent stonework and carving were everywhere. Many of the 
ancient edifices were ornamented with mosaic facades as brightly colored as the 
riotous tropical flowers. Some had stacked setback gardens. Others featured the 

remains of exquisitely designed porticos, or open galleries with fluted pillars 
partially fallen down, or crumbling esplanades railed off by richly carved 
balustrades. Remnants of mysterious statuary and huge, broken urns were almost 
concealed by verdant shrouds. Trees and shrubs had thrust up and buckled the 
multicolored expanses of pavement that had once been open plazas. But no one 
would dare say that the jungle had reclaimed Trevista: the ancient metropolis still 
exuded an aura of power and sophisticated beauty that the passing of ages had 
scarcely diminished. 
Now the guiding wherry led the boats from the arterial canal into a side channel, 
and almost immediately the vegetation masking the ruins began to change in 
character. Most of the colossal structures still appeared to be as overgrown as 
ever; but some of the streets and byways between them had been cleared. The 
flotilla drew close to a broad public square with an operating fountain at its center, 
which lay on the right bank. A great flight of shallow steps flanked by pillarlike 
lamp-standards led from the plaza to the water's edge. At the head of the stairs 
waited a compact group of some two dozen Nyssomu. There were no other native 
people in sight. 
"But, where is the fair?" General Hamil demanded. "By Zoto's Holy Guts —the 
Oddlings have run away after all!" 
The Master-Trader winced and hissed, "Softly, please, my General! The Discerner 
Frolotu and her tribal delegation may take offense." 
"Spy them out, wizard!" Hamil persisted. "Are the slime-skinned little mud-lovers 
lurking in ambush?" 
"Be quiet, you fool," Orogastus retorted. With a curt gesture he summoned the 
two Voices, who fell to their knees, side by side on the flatboat deck facing the 
plaza. Both Hamil and Prince Antar had seen the sorcerer utilize his minions in 
the Sight before; but the knights and officers and the Master-Trader watched 
curiously as Orogastus took up a position behind the pair, unceremoniously 
yanked down the blue and red hoods, and rested his hands on the two shaven 
heads. 
The sorcerer's own head was bare, and his snowy hair seemed to glow in the green 

gloaming of the tropical afternoon. Slowly he closed his eyes. Those who were 
watching closely saw the eye-sockets of the submissive Voices seem to turn 
abruptly into black, empty pits. There were low curses and gasps of amazement 
from the knights that trailed off into stunned silence as Orogastus's eyelids 
reopened to reveal two small stars blazing beneath his dark brows. He lifted his 
hands into the air and turned his entire body about slowly, apparently scanning the 
entire region surrounding the square as well as the overgrown cluster of domed 
structures on the opposite side of the canal. 
Then his eyes closed. The two rigid acolytes gave convulsive jerks and groaned, 
and their own eyes rolled normally in their heads again before they slumped down 
unconscious. The face of the sorcerer also regained its usual aspect before he drew 
up his shadowing hood. 
"There are nearly four hundred Nyssomu concealed in the buildings across the 
canal," said Orogastus calmly. "They are watching us, and have neither hostile 
intent nor fear. I recommend that we land and proceed with the meeting. There is 
no danger." 
Casually, he bent down and took hold of the noses of his inert associates. The two 
flowed to their feet as though drifting up through water and stood with heads 
lolling, mouths open, and eyes still tightly shut. Orogastus turned and headed for 
Pellan's cabin, beckoning, and the semicomatose Red Voice and Blue Voice 
shuffled after him. 
"The two ensorcelled flunkies will recover after resting," Prince Antar told his 
awe-struck men curtly. "Now pull yourselves together, and for God's sake hold 
your shields high and form a decent honor guard when we disembark." 
The wherry had already pulled up to the landing stage, which was easily large 
enough to accommodate all fourteen of the big flatboats at once. A few Nyssomu 
trudged down the steps to help tie up, and Pellan steered the leading boat to the 
very center of the stairs, called for up-oars, and brought them smartly to dock. 
Preceded by the Master-Trader, Lord Osorkon bearing the Labornoki banner, and 
General Hamil with his four aides, Prince Antar marched down the gangplank 
onto the quay and waited, twenty knights ranged behind him with shields on their 

arms and pennoned lances at parade rest. The common soldiers and their sergeants 
lined the rails of the flatboats, crossbows and other weapons ported. 
"Greetings to the Nyssomu people of Trevista!" Master Edzar exclaimed 
solemnly, using the tongue that all nations of the Peninsula spoke. He repeated the 
salutation in the Nyssomu language, and continued to translate throughout the rest 
of the speech. 
"The great nation of Labornok, which has traded peacefully with the Nyssomu 
people of Trevista for over four hundreds by means of Ruwendian intermediaries, 
now declares that its commerce will be conducted freely and directly, no longer 
through venal middlemen, and both the Nyssomu and Labornok will profit by the 
change!… Following many a grave insult to Labornok delivered by arrogant and 
greedy Ruwendian officials, the patience of our great King Voltrik was strained 
beyond endurance… He led a mighty Labornoki host southward and wreaked just 
vengeance upon the craven Ruwendians, who surrendered to him without 
condition three days ago… Now Ruwenda and Labornok will be united into one 
great nation. Trade caravans will continue to come to Trevista, just as before. The 
Nyssomu may rejoice together with Labornok, since the lifting of the unjust 
burden of Ruwendian taxation from their commercial intercourse will allow both 
peoples to thrive, and peace and prosperity will prevail amongst all persons of 
good will!" 
The Master-Trader threw his arms open wide. Buglers on each of the flatboats 
brayed a fanfare in unison. All of the Nyssomu blinked their huge yellow eyes, but 
otherwise made no move. Edzar cleared his throat and resumed: 
"Good King Voltrik sends you his beloved son Crown Prince Antar, bearing the 
authority of the Labornoki throne. Over the next few days the Prince will discuss 
with you the new relationship between our peoples, which will be closer and more 
amicable than ever before!… And now Prince Antar desires to convey his 
felicitations to the worthy Discerner of Trevista." 
The Master-Trader stepped aside and made a deep obeisance to the Prince, who 
came forward. For a moment, the tight little group of aborigines at the head of the 
stairs stood immobile. Then one of them descended and approached Antar. Her 
robe was of woven dried grasses with a deep collar and cuffs of living sky-blue 
flowers. A wreath of similar flowers crowned her head and she carried a simple 

green reed which she pointed without ceremony at the disconcerted Prince. 
"Antar of Labornok," she said, using the human language. Her voice was musical 
and far-carrying. "This one is Frolotu, chosen Discerner by our people. It is our 
custom to be straightforward with humans and this one will do you the honor of 
addressing you without artifice. We have listened to your trader's fine speech and 
scrutinized its content, separating truth from falsehood. Now this one asks your 
permission to question you." 
The reed pointed unwaveringly at the Prince's heart and he found that he was 
sweating heavily inside his handsome suit of enameled parade armor. "You may 
ask your questions," he said in a low voice. 
"Does Labornok mean to do harm to the Nyssomu?" 
"I declare that we will do you no harm." 
"Will your traders continue to give us a fair price for our goods?" 
"I declare that they will." 
"What else, besides the resumption of trade, do you ask of the Trevista 
Nyssomu?" 
"We—we wish to have a small settlement here, as a base for exploring the interior 
of the Mazy Mire." 
"You wish to quarter armed troops here." 
"Yes. This is my Royal Father's command, so that fugitive Ruwendians who are 
enemies of the new regime may not disrupt commerce." 
The Discerner's enormous eyes shone with sadness, but she continued to speak 
without emotion and the reed never trembled. "Those that you call your enemies 
have long been our friends. You have conquered them by means of black sorcery 

and an overwhelming force of arms. You have cruelly executed the King and 
Queen of Ruwenda and their noble cohort whose only fault was defending their 
country against your invasion. You now pursue the Three Petals of the Living 
Trillium, the Princesses of Ruwenda, and would put them also to death." 
"Yes," said the Prince. "But these human matters have nothing to do with you. We 
do not seek your help in the search for the Princesses. If you hinder us, you may 
expect our anger. If you leave be, I tell you that no citizen of Labornok will offer 
you harm nor insult. We will pay for the accommodation and provisioning of the 
garrison here, and resume normal trade as soon as it is possible to do so." 
The Discerner sketched a three-lobed pattern in the air about the Prince. Then she 
stood silent for a moment before saying: "Antar of Labornok, you have spoken the 
truth to this one. The Nyssomu of Trevista agree to reopen the fair and deal with 
your Master-Traders in our usual fashion. The fair will be held upon another 
island, the location of which will be vouchsafed to you in good time." 
"Thank you," said the Prince. 
"We will permit you to set up your garrison here, in the area of this square, which 
is called Lusagira. You may use the buildings surrounding it as you choose, and a 
market will convene daily about the fountain where foodstuffs and certain other 
goods may be purchased from us at just prices." 
"Again I thank you." 
The little being outlined restrictions that would be placed upon the garrison: the 
soldiers might travel the canals of Trevista freely, but were forbidden to land 
unless invited by the Nyssomu. The region directly across the canal from Lusagira 
Square, where numbers of Nyssomu had made homes among the ruins, was 
completely off-limits to humans unless the Discerner herself declared an 
exception. On the other hand, the local aborigines were to have free access to the 
square during daylight, although the humans could close off the buildings to them. 
"All these things are agreeable to us," Antar said. "And now, since the sun is 
sinking, we ask your permission to land our men and set up a temporary 
encampment before nightfall." 

"All may disembark" — Frolotu swung the reed in an arc to the Prince's right, 
indicating three figures still on board the leading flat-boat—"except him." 
Antar and his companions turned to see Orogastus, who stood with his Voices 
near the midships cabin. The sorcerer gave a mocking bow of acknowledgment to 
the Discerner. 
She continued: "He must leave this place tomorrow, and not return, or else 
everything that the Nyssomu have agreed to will be voided." Tears began to 
trickle down her cheeks even though her expression was still stony. 
Antar sighed. Mist was rising from the canal and he was wretchedly 
uncomfortable in the sticky armor and famished as well. "I agree to this also, 
Discerner Frolotu. Is there anything further?" 
The green reed was lowered, and the flower-crowned figure's aura of power and 
irresistible integrity seemed to drain away palpably, leaving only a weeping 
inhuman little female whose fortitude finally neared the breaking point. She said: 
"We have nothing else to say to each other, Prince. This is a time of mourning and 
all Nyssomu hearts are heavy. Nevertheless my people will bring fresh fruit and 
meat for your expedition's refreshment. This is our free gift, together with the use 
of the buildings. Perhaps we will meet again at the Feast of the Three Moons… if 
the Lords of the Air grant that we both live so long." 
She went back up the stairs like a person exhausted after running a long race. 
Then she and the rest of the Nyssomu walked slowly across the broad square into 
an overgrown passageway between two broken buildings, and disappeared into 
the deepening shadows. 
Much later that night, when the men were quartered in their tents and the 
campfires burned low, Antar came out of his own pavilion and walked restlessly 
along the quay. The night-noises were loud and irritating and no breeze moved the 
humid air. Across the channel dim little lights of many different colors bobbed 
about in the Oddling settlement. A sickly greenish radiance shone from the 
window of the flatboat cabin where Orogastus and his minions were sequestered, 

and the Prince could hear a sound of chanting from there, barely audible over the 
din of the nocturnal jungle creatures. With a grimace, Antar turned away from that 
part of the landing and went down the string of deserted boats to the very last one, 
where a single soldier stood guard on the foredeck with a lantern at his feet. 
Identifying himself, the Prince came aboard. "All quiet on the canal, my man?" 
"Aye, Lord." The fellow gave a nod toward the twinkling lights on the other side 
of the water. "The Oddies are movin' about over yonder. Now and then somethin' 
or other moves in front of their lights. And some big creetur with glowin' eyeballs 
came swimmin' by a time ago, and caught and ate somethin' that squealed pitiful. 
Other 'n that, all's well." 
Antar wandered to the bow rail and looked across the black water. "What think 
you of these Oddlings? Are they a kind of intelligent animal, as our sages have 
always taught, or are they true persons?" 
The soldier hawked and spat. "By their outlandish looks, I'd judge them creeturs. 
But the slippery one that spoke got her way with you crafty enough, Lord." 
"True," admitted the Prince, with a rueful chuckle. 
"And I never heard of any creetur could weep for sorrow over dead friends." 
Antar forbore to comment on that. "Were you chosen to remain here with the 
garrison?" 
"No. I'll be returnin' to the Citadel in the mornin' with the wizard." 
"And glad of it?" 
"I'd be most glad to set my hoofies on the road back to Derorguila, Lord. I'm a 
plainsman and I don't much fancy the swamp country, and these big old hulks o' 
dead buildings give me the quiverin' creeps." 

Antar laughed heartily. "Me, too." 
He strolled over to one of the now emptied supply wagons that the boat carried. 
There would be scant need for wheeled vehicles at the garrison. The thoroughfares 
around about Lusagira Square dead-ended in jungle not a quarter league away. 
The Prince idly kicked one of the wagon-wheels, and then bent down to pluck at a 
bit of cloth caught on a nail of the tailgate. The fabric shimmered strangely in the 
lantern light. 
It was a torn piece of expensive rose-colored silk, soiled with dried mud. As he 
studied it he felt an eerie conviction insinuate itself into his mind: he had seen — 
and touched — this material before. 
Held in his arms a human form clad in it. 
It was hers, from her dress. 
Here? Impossible! There was no way that the Princess Anigel could have secreted 
herself on board the flatboat and dared to accompany the ones who had vowed to 
kill her. No way she could have avoided the farseeing eye of Orogastus — 
But the sorcerer had admitted that his magic was unable to spy out the hiding 
place of the Princesses. She could have stayed concealed, since the unloading of 
the wagons had not been completed until full dark. And then… all evening long, 
the punts of the local Oddlings had shuttled back and forth across the canal, 
bringing food and drink to their unwelcome guests. 
So she could be at large in Trevista, the beautiful golden-haired young woman 
whose very existence threatened his father's throne. She could be in the Nyssomu 
settlement across the water at this very moment. 
What in God's name was he to do? 
Antar straightened. He tucked the scrap of satin away into his belt, said goodnight 
to the soldier, and walked back up the landing stage. The queasy green light still 
shone in the sorcerer's cabin, pulsating rhythmically to the sound of the chanting. 

The Prince stopped, fingering the piece of cloth. 
He stooped, picked up a small stone, and knotted the satin tightly about it. Then he 
flung the little missile out into midstream with all his strength, and went off to 
bed. 
Chapter Ten 
Kadiya sat up, bits of grass clinging to her sticky skin and hair. She was gasping 
as one who had run a punishing race to collapse at the end of it. She looked about 
her, shaken and dazed, unable for a moment or two to understand where she was 
or what had happened. There was the muck-fueled warmth of the swamp, small 
splotches of sunlight on the short lengths of water she could catch sight of through 
the rank growing brush. In spite of the heat she shivered and hunkered in upon 
herself. It was still there — 
She forced herself to breathe more slowly, to shake out of the daze which had held 
her. What wad it? Nothing she could set name to. Yet she felt as if she were held 
under some great eye, entrapped and helpless. She had to try twice before she 
could croak out: 
"Jagun!" 
There was a stir not too far away. The Oddling hunter had so buried himself in the 
grass of his own nest that his arising made him look as if he were emerging from 
the ground itself. 
His eyes were narrowed against the light but his long knife was bared in his hand. 
"Someone" —her voice shook so that she was ashamed of her own state and made 
an effort at control —"someone is seeking us." 
Jagun was on his feet, shuffling free of the nest grass. His slitted nostrils flared as 
he raised his head to sniff as might a hunted animal. Very slowly he pivoted, 
testing the air in each direction. She, too, shifted about. "Farseer" they called her 
because of her sharp sight, but now she noticed nothing but the swamp as it had 

always been. Yet somehow (and this was more alarming than any visible foe) she 
was certain that the watcher was not near them now… 
Magic? Of what kind? Used by whom? 
"There is nothing save that which is natural here," Jagun said slowly, and now he 
was staring at her. "You have been dreaming, King's Daughter. Rest: what guards 
one can set in the swamp are present — Nothing can come upon us that I shall not 
know." He yawned. 
She subsided back into the roll of grass, her hand clasped about her amulet. With 
all her might she listened. There was plenty of swamp life abroad, and none of 
that seemed to have reason for fear. She tried to sort out sound from sound to 
identify each. Just as the night swarmed with one set of hunters so did others go 
about their work by day. 
But the one that had sought her had passed her by, frustrated. 
Softly she spoke: "Jagun, I no longer feel that someone is seeking us." She shifted 
her hand so that the amulet might be within his range of vision. "My trilliumamber 
has shielded us —perhaps from the magical Sight of Orogastus!" 
Jagun stood up, casting the grass aside. "Farseer, I do not understand such as that." 
He gestured to the amulet. "But this I feel, we shall not wait for night to move on." 
"Skritek?" Kadiya looked toward those parts of the surrounding swamp she could 
see from where she now sat. She let the amulet drop, to swing by its chain as she 
drew her dagger. 
He shook his head. "Skritek, I would know. This — I can only guess." 
His vehemence impressed her and a feeling of helplessness was coming back. 
"Orogastus has followers of his own." Jagun was already busy tramping the soft 
soil over the remains of their fire. "They are called 'Voices,' having surrendered 
their full will to his so as to become only extensions of himself. It might very well 

be that he has sent such persons to cruise the swamp with whatever armed force 
goes to secure Trevista—" 
"And follows me! But what do these Voices do, Jagun? Can they so disguise 
themselves that you who know the swamp well cannot search them out?" 
"Farseer, do you remember how at the last trade fair there was that one Ustrel, of 
whom people asked questions concerning things which troubled them?" 
Yes, certainly she recalled the old woman who was so lamed that she needed two 
staffs to aid her in walking. And Kadiya had watched her squat before a wide, curledged 
drogo leaf into which she had shaken some drops of water. There had been 
another female Oddling crouching on the other side of that leaf, waiting tensely to 
hear the muttering of the ancient seeress, but the dialect the latter used had been 
one Kadiya did not know. 
"You said she could read fate in the water drops," Kadiya said now, "but surely 
that was merely a piece of trickery. Such is impossible — " 
"Not quite, Farseer. Each of us differs one from the other, not only as to our 
bodies but also our minds, in what we are able to learn easily and what we cannot 
grasp without great labor, if at all. Are you like unto either of your sisters, King's 
Daughter? I am a hunter of beasts, a trainer of such upon occasion. This is my 
talent. I do not set carven wood pieces cunningly together, nor do I brew herbs, 
nor work with the gleanings from ruins. Those are other crafts and arts. 
"Thus it is also with crafts of the mind. Yes, there are those who can cast their 
Sight distant, and they can read, if fleetingly and falteringly, what happens to 
another far away. Ustrel cannot always do it, and seldom very clearly. But there 
have been times when she has foreseen the truth and had her farseeing proven so. 
Orogastus is a man of great knowledge, most of it unmeasured by any of us. If his 
Voices are well taught and they begin with some talent, then it could be that he 
uses them to extend his own senses." 
"Then they are searching for us and will continue to do so! What is your craft of 
water-trailing against that?" Kadiya shivered. Steel against steel she could 
understand, even the cruelties of the invaders; but that they could command such 

powers was daunting indeed. 
Jagun shook his head slowly. "It is not an easy thing to do and it takes time and 
preparation. Also it is exhausting for the seer. It may be that there is a Voice with 
a search parry on the river behind us. But the more distance we put between us 
and the Citadel, the less easy we shall be to find." 
Kadiya cradled the glowing amber amulet in her hand. "Does magic call to 
magic?" Almost she was ready to drop what might be such an ill-omened thing 
into the water. 
"Farseer, your amulet is of the Light, the Archimage's own gift. I do not believe 
that it would play you false. However, I would be away from here. We must take a 
route which goes around Trevista. The Labornoki will keep to the river. Neither 
Pellan, nor the Skritek, if they have such with them, know this Blackmire country 
away from the major trails." 
Though she had been to Trevista several times and prided herself on an excellent 
memory for landmarks, Kadiya was totally bewildered as Jagun's punt carried 
them on through twisting waterways while the afternoon waned. They skirted an 
islet where broken walls thrust up from the undergrowth, plainly one of the ruin 
sites. The swamp vegetation here consisted of banks of reeds and tough grass, 
fleshy stemmed vines, and looming trees. There were a few spots of color, puffpetaled 
flowers which had a most unpleasant look and which Kadiya recognized 
as the bait for plants which fed upon unwary insects. 
The spark in the amulet continued to glow, leading them on. They did not stop for 
food but chewed on the tubers, and sometimes ate fruit that Jagun picked. Out of 
the night rose more isles crowned by ruins, and around them danced points of 
filmy light born of the marshlands. 
The grey of dawn was showing again when they swung aside to slide through an 
inlet Kadiya would have thought too narrow to allow them passage, into an open 
space which looked more pool than river. Kadiya's legs were cramped and she 
wondered if she could stand erect. Jagun was also tiring. He sculled the punt 
slowly along the edge of the pool to where a tree, its roots undercut during one of 
the monsoon floods, thrust out from the bank. On the other side stones stood 

above the water forming a line that led back into the jungle-like tangle beyond. 
When they were ashore Jagun pulled the punt closer to the trees and draped over it 
some bunches of reeds. Kadiya's legs and back were very painful, but she stooped 
and caught up the larger of the two hunters' bags. If she were so worn out, how 
must Jagun feel? 
He made no move to chop a way for them with his knife, but instead turned and 
twisted to avoid the thickest of the vegetation. Insects arose about them in a cloud, 
and then Jagun did chop fiercely downward. Between him and Kadiya there lay a 
thick object that might have been a vine; but it had no leaves and it threshed back 
and forth, while from the severed end dripped a yellowish stuff with the unhealthy 
look of discharge from an infected wound. There arose on the air a sweetish odor 
of putrid decay. A tangle-foot! The other end had snapped back into a dusky 
cavern of thick growth, and Kadiya took a wide stride to avoid the carnivorous 
plant that had come seeking them. 
Although the bushes grew high here, the trees had thinned out. Kadiya and Jagun 
came into the light of morning in a place where stood the remains of a number of 
shattered pillars set in a circle upon a pavement of dull black-grey stone. Kadiya 
uttered an exclamation. The open patch was deserted, but in the very middle 
smouldered a fire, and a wandering breeze brought from it a stench as well as 
puffs of greasy smoke. There had fallen across the pieces of firewood a thicker 
and longer pole now charred nearly through in the middle. However, it was what 
was mounted on the end pointing toward the newcomers that brought a gasp from 
Kadiya. 
Fastened to the blackened and scorched wood was a skull. 
"Jagun!" 
His hand went up in a gesture of command as he leaned forward to inspect it more 
closely. The bone was yellowed and smeared with slime, cracked as if it had been 
dragged through some of the most muck-filled ways of the Mire. 
"Skritek!" the hunter breathed. 

The swamp was dank and warm even though the sun was not fully up, but in that 
moment Kadiya felt a chill which roughened her skin as if she stood full face to a 
storm wind. 
"A warn." Jagun walked around the fire as he might around a trap. "But here?" 
Kadiya looked about her uneasily. "Do the Skritek come so close then to Trevista 
or — she drew a deep breath — do they war here?" 
It seemed as if Jagun had not heard her. He pounced suddenly and picked up what 
looked to be a braided fiber string, the kind used to lace on water-skimmers. 
Taking good hold of either end he snapped it taut. 
"Uisgu!" He threw back his head, and from deep in his throat sounded the call of 
questing made by the armored horiks which laired on such islets. Three times he 
called so, and then added, after a moment of silence, another trilling sound, high 
and thin, which Kadiya had never heard before. 
Slowly he pivoted where he stood, his body tense as if every cell of it was now 
engaged in listening for an answer. 
It came in a single horik's call. Then out of the thick brush surrounding the circle 
of pillars there crawled another Oddling. Unlike Jagun he did not wear the finely 
woven clothing of the Nyssomu, only a short, kilt-like garment of golden yellow 
with a feathery edging of grass heads. A knife hilt, cord-wrapped in red, showed 
above the belt which supported his kilt. He held a blowpipe in one hand. 
Around his protruding eyes had been painted rings of red-brown which enlarged 
the eyes themselves, and on his furred chest were three circles interlocked at a 
center point. 
He looked at Kadiya and moved away from her toward the hunter. When he 
spoke, his words were strangely accented so that she, used only to the Nyssomu 
trade talk and some phrases of ceremony Jagun had carefully taught her, could 
only make out one word in three or four. 

" — come — set pole — kill Unvis — kill." With that word he held up his 
blowpipe and shook it fiercely. "Those others — " Then he launched into an 
impassioned speech which Kadiya could not follow at all. When he was done he 
stood panting and there were flecks of spittle at the corners of his wide mouth. 
Jagun looked to Kadiya. "Yesterday the Skritek were here. They captured one of 
Usos's clan whom they brought here. Then they set up one of their boundary 
poles, slaying the clan sister to seal what they did in blood." 
Jagun turned back to the Uisgu and spoke again. The other replied in very limited 
words. 
"They went on — toward Trevista," Jagun said. "I have told Usos of the trouble 
which faces us all now. He and his clan traders were going to Trevista with some 
finds. They will spread the warning as they now return." 
The Uisgu then disappeared so quickly that Kadiya stood blinking. "Could we not 
go with them?" 
Jagun gave a small grim sound which might have been a laugh. "The Uisgu travel 
with none but their kin, Farseer. It has always been so. Of the same blood we are." 
He nodded. "But to them we are very far kin indeed. Never have we carried war to 
them, or they to us. Long ago, in the very beginning, when the Vanished Ones 
ruled, it was set so. We are Nyssomu and they are Uisgu and so it has always 
been. Usos will take my warning, but he would not allow our company." 
"And yet you are not enemies," Kadiya mused. 
"King's Daughter, in the old days, we of the Nyssomu were, so our legends tell us, 
speakers for the Vanished Ones. Now we are servants of the Lady of Noth, who 
commanded us to befriend the humans who came to live in the Mazy Mire. But 
the Uisgu have always feared your people. Only a few very daring clansmen will 
trade with us, that we may in turn trade with you." 
"They will discover that the Labornoki are not of our kind," Kadiya broke out. 
"Jagun, I believe that Voltrik will try to set his heel as firmly upon the Mires as he 
has upon the Citadel. Can the Uisgu hide so well that the Skritek cannot sniff them 

out?" 
Jagun shrugged. "Farseer, who can say? But now we must rest, and since this is a 
place defiled we must search out another camp." 
That they did, farther along the shore of the pool. There were no remains of the 
Vanished Ones here and Jagun said they must share sentry duties. Kadiya insisted 
that she take the first watch since the hunter had had the wearing labor of bringing 
the punt into this hidden harbor. 
Jagun immediately curled up on a small mound of leaves he raked together and 
fell asleep. But Kadiya sat cross-legged, setting herself grimly to the task of 
watching. Though she lacked most of the keen senses the Oddlings possessed, 
being unable to pick out of the air scents which were overborne by the usual 
swamp odors, and she could not without difficulty name the sounds, still she was 
somewhat swamp-wise. 
Several times she arose to her feet to prowl around the campsite. She scratched at 
her scalp, overladen with the insect repelling grease, and tried to comb her fingers 
through her badly tangled hair. At this moment she could well envy the Nyssomu 
their general hairlessness and the Uisgu their sleek covering of fur. 
On her second round of the camp she caught sight of a brighter green down 
beneath one of the bushes, and in a moment had in her hand a stout-rooted plant 
she did know. A scramble of pulling brought out five more and she cleaned and 
divided their roots carefully, placing half of them aside for Jagun. Then she began 
to eat. Unlike the woody tubers of their sparse rations, these were full of juice and 
had a clean, pungent taste. They were called mafun, and they had even appeared 
on the table at the Citadel, where they were esteemed as a delicacy, although they 
could not be replanted from the wild into any polder field. 
As she chewed, Kadiya thought of the Vanished Ones. She had heard, ever since 
she could remember, debates and guesses concerning them. They were supposed 
to have ruled this land countless ages ago. That they had had vast powers all 
thinking men admitted. Powers? She swallowed the last of the sweet pulp in her 
mouth. Magic was power! Was the Archimage really one of the Vanished Ones? 
Had she lived many hundreds, watching her land change, Noth slowly eroding 

about her? And who was Orogastus? Had he some connection to the Vanished 
Ones as well? 
Kadiya began to wonder how large was this world of hers. What lay beyond the 
Peninsula? The Labornoki plains in the north led to the sea, and to the south were 
the vast woodlands of Var; but few other countries had she studied, and now she 
envied Haramis, who had spent time in the Citadel library while she, Kadiya, 
scorned books in favor of an active, outdoor life. 
Had the Vanished Ones merely withdrawn from Ruwenda, to reestablish their rule 
elsewhere? Orogastus was said to have come from a distant land, brought back by 
Voltrik during his waiting years. Might the sorcerer also be a Vanished One? 
There was nothing, however, either in legends or in the bits of information she had 
picked up from the Oddlings, to suggest that the Vanished Ones had been workers 
of evil. Certainly the Archimage had never tried to dominate either the Oddlings 
or the Ruwendians. 
Kadiya lifted her trillium-amber amulet. Its glow was steady, reassuring, perhaps 
even protective. And its spark still faithfully pointed the way to Noth… where 
perhaps her questions would be answered. 
Chapter Eleven 
The Black Trillium seeds led Haramis and the musician Uzun on and on over the 
highland bogs of the Ohogan foothills. The seeds did not float too fast for them to 
follow. If either of them stumbled, or became momentarily enmired, or even had 
to stop for some necessary reason, the seed-of-the-day would wait —apparently 
becalmed by a diminishing of the wind, or caught upon some obstruction — only 
to fly free again when they were in a position to march on. It also determined 
when and where they would stop at night, dropping to earth each evening in what 
Haramis supposed it considered a suitable campsite. Or perhaps, she thought, the 
seeds are choosing places for themselves to grow. If I survive, and return here 
next year, will I find trillim plants, spaced a day´s march apart along their route? 
But the seeds would not let her dawdle, either, and after several days' journeying 
westward over the heath, Haramis was beginning almost to detest the fluffy flying 
things. There were times when a strange plant or an intriguing, unfamiliar creature 

caught her eye and she would have liked to pause and study them; but the seed-ofthe-
day would sail on, and she and Uzun would be constrained to follow. 
Once, on their second day out from Noth, she had dared to defy the magical guide. 
The trail that they followed through the high bogland led them past a patch of the 
largest, most juicy, most sweetly fermented cloudberries that Haramis had ever 
tasted in her life, and she insisted upon ignoring the seed-guide and stopping to 
feast upon them. The seed had floated on out of sight. But when Haramis plucked 
another from the pod and cast it free to guide them, it drifted to the ground and 
refused to fly even when she breathed upon it. 
In a panic, she tried another seed. This one took off with such celerity that she 
almost had to run to keep up with it, and poor old Uzun staggered and tottered and 
moaned following after. Although he spoke no word of rebuke, Haramis knew full 
well that she was to blame for his misery. 
She took hold of her amulet and whispered with breathless asperity: "I was wrong! 
I should not have ignored the seed! Have pity upon Uzun, if not upon me! Slow 
down! Please!" 
And the seed did, adjusting its flight at once to a more comfortable pace. 
But Haramis remained resentful. Could not the Archimage have given her a more 
seemly way of pursuing this quest? Was she a babe or a dim-witted animal, 
needing to be hurried on in such an inflexible manner? The quests she had read of 
in legends were carried out in an atmosphere of dignity and nobility. But she, it 
seemed, would fulfill her great destiny trudging up hill and down vale after a silly 
bit of fluff, garnering blisters on her bog-soaked feet, gnat-bites on her neck, and 
an increasing distaste for the wholesome but boring rations the Archimage had 
seen fit to include in their packs. 
The food was not over lavish in quantity, either. 
On their fifth day of travel, when they reached a large river that Uzun thought 
might be the Upper Vispar, it occurred to Haramis for the first time that they 
would soon run out of provisions if they continued to gobble them heedlessly. The 
countryside looked completely deserted, and Uzun seemed to think that neither his 

own Nyssomu tribe nor the Uisgu would live so far north, beyond the borders of 
the Mazy Mire. The piedmont was a no-man's-land, separating the swamp from 
the mountain territory of the Vispi. 
Haramis sat on a rock overlooking the rushing torrent. It was nearly sundown, and 
the seed they had followed that day had fallen, signaling that the two might make 
camp. Uzun was gathering firewood and getting ready to prepare their meal, a task 
which he undertook each evening and morning, insisting upon serving the 
Princess with as much deference as though she were still at home in the Citadel. 
"Uzun," she called, and the little musician hurried to her, smiling. "Do you think 
there would be fish in this river?" 
"I should certainly think so, my Princess. Garsu for sure, and doubtless other 
kinds that I know not the names of." 
"I have found in my pack some string and three hooks. Would you take them and 
catch me a nice fish for supper? I am so wearied of the mealcakes and dried meat. 
Besides, our supplies of food are dwindling, and I doubt we can count on finding 
any Folk in this godforsaken region to give us more." 
Uzun's face fell. "But it lacks only an hour or so until nightfall, Princess. If I 
spend the time fishing, how will I have time to fetch wood or cook?" He grinned 
apologetically. "And I am loath to confess it, but I have never fished in my life, 
and would probably make a botch of it." 
Haramis laughed. "How difficult can it be, if even the little children of the Citadel 
freeholders do it? I have a wonderful idea! I shall fish, and instead of cooking our 
dreary rations, you shall gather berries, and some of that nice-looking bittercress 
that we spied growing beside the bog-pool a short way back along the trail. And if 
you cast about, there are certain to be mushrooms — and we shall feast tonight!" 
As always, Uzun agreed to her demands. After building a good woodpile, he 
trotted off to secure the other edibles, leaving Haramis alone. 
Fishing was easy, the Princess told herself. One got a pole, and tied to it a line, 
and on the end of that the hook, and on the hook some bait— 

Ooh. The bait must needs be impaled. And where did one find bait, anyhow? 
She poked about among the driftwood on the riverbank and found a most 
satisfactory pole, and beneath a rotten log came upon some wriggling grubs that 
glowed dimly in the advancing twilight. Steeling herself (she did retch once, but 
fortunately Uzun was too far away to hear), she managed to thread one of the vile 
little creatures onto the hook, after two were crushed in her trembling fingers. 
Then she cleaned off her beslimed hands, found a spot where the river ran deep, 
and cast her lure. Line and bait drifted swiftly downstream into a pother of 
whitewater and rocks, and Haramis hauled it back to the pool, only to see it float 
away again. 
Very well. The problem was one any intelligent person could solve. 
And come to think of it, she did recall the freeholder urchins using floats and 
weights to control the placement of the lure. 
She pulled the line in. Of course the wretched grub was gone and another had to 
be put on. Just above the hook, she tied a small rock, and an ell or so above this on 
the line, tied a piece of dry wood for a float. When she moved to a better position 
and cast this rig into the water, it landed most satisfactorily in the pool and stayed 
there. Haramis sighed, sat down on the bank, and waited. 
I will have to do this from now on, she thought. I have been a perfect dolt, 
allowing poor Uzun to wait upon me hand and foot, as though we were on a 
picnic in the Citadel meadows. It is quite evident that we shall have to live off the 
land from now on and conserve what few traveling rations remain for 
emergencies. The Lords of the Air only know how long this quest will last—or 
where it will take us! 
Haramis let her eyes move upstream, over the heath with its sparse trees and 
heavy brush. The tiny trail turned here at the river and continued northward along 
the bank. Beyond a doubt the implacable seeds would follow it, taking them into 
the mountains. 

The mountains… 
They loomed beyond the dark foothills, snow-crowned and terrible, the land of the 
mysterious Vispi. Was her talisman hidden up there? If it was, how could two 
innocents in the wilds such as she and Uzun hope to find it? To say nothing of 
returning with it to Noth, as the White Lady had commanded. 
The White Lady, who was sick, dying, possibly even deranged. 
All they could do was follow the seeds — ordinary tiny brown things, each with a 
tuft of white silky threads, seeming to have nothing of magic about them at all, 
except the purposeful nature of their course through the air. 
She gives them impetus, Haramis thought. She knows where we are, and where we 
must go, and she drives the seeds onward while, we follow. And she did not tell me 
where I must go, because she knew I would then be too frightened and 
disheartened even to begin the journey … 
"Princess! I have brought berries and cress and a plethora of most deliciouslooking 
mushrooms—" 
Haramis started in surprise. Lost in her thoughts, she had not heard Uzun 
approach. Then the fishpole gave a great jerk and nearly leapt from her hands. She 
got a grip on it, and something pulled so strongly that she was dragged to the lip 
of the riverbank. 
She cried: "Uzun! Help me! A fish!" And then something green and silver sprang 
from the water, and fell back in with a great splash. The Oddling musician 
dropped his gleanings and came running to help, gabbling with excitement. The 
two of them wrestled and shrieked and almost dropped the pole, while the fish 
fought so strongly that they were nearly ready to surrender. 
But Haramis yelled: "No! You shall not get away, you are our dinner!" And with 
that, the creature's strugglings ceased, and they drew it onto shore. It was a shining 
garsu as long as Haramis's leg. 

"Perhaps you did not need the hook, Princess," Uzun teased, "if you can command 
dinner from the water." 
"I hope it was merely coincidence," Haramis laughed. "I should hate to think that 
our dinner was an intelligent creature capable of understanding human speech 
—or, worse yet, an enchanted prince!" 
"Like in the old ballads?" Uzun said. "I shouldn't think it likely. It's a perfectly 
ordinary garsu, and it will be delicious —and there will be plenty left for breakfast 
and lunch also. Oh, well done, my Princess. Well done!" 
They grinned at one another. And then Haramis stared at the big fish, and her joy 
turned to discomfiture, and she said: "Uzun? Do — do you know what must be 
done next? To — prepare it?" 
Stricken, with mouth agape, Uzun shook his head. 
Haramis sighed. "Never mind. Trial and error is supposed to be an effective 
method of learning." 
Uzun looked dubious. "Praying for divine inspiration couldn't hurt either." 
Chapter Twelve 
Anigel had an extraordinary dream, and in it something happened that had never 
happened in all the history of Peninsular humankind: the Rains did not come. 
Instead of the familiar storms that rolled up from the Southern Sea and drenched 
Zinora and Var and Ruwenda and Labornok and Raktum and the Islands of Engi 
for two seasons each year, there were unending months when the sun glared down 
from a cloudless sky and a hot wind blew day and night, scorching the small 
nations with its pitiless, deadly blast. The entire Peninsula was devastated; but 
Ruwenda, having no seacoast, suffered most of all. 
From her bedroom window in the Citadel she watched the mighty Mutar dwindle 
to a trickle, and likewise the Skrokar River, the Virkar, and the Bonorar. And this 

caused Lake Wum, which the rivers fed, to dry up completely, so that there was 
no way to float the huge logs from the Tassaleyo Forest to the timber yards. River 
commerce became impossible; the Dylex farms were drought-striken; and 
monstrous starving Skritek rampaged from one end of Ruwenda to the other. 
Her parents King Krain and Queen Kalanthe came to her, together with the rulers 
of the other five nations, and begged her to do something to bring back the Rains. 
She told them she did not know how, and they went away in despair. 
In the dream her sister Kadiya came to tell her that the muck soil of the Ruwenda 
wetlands had all dried out. Flowering plants and grasses turned sere and bore 
neither blossom nor fruit. Juicy fungi withered, nutritious green lichens shriveled 
away, and jungle trees dropped their leaves. 
"Pray!" Kadiya urged her, and she did, clasping the Black Trillium amulet in 
fevered hands. But the hot wind only blew more strongly around the Citadel, and 
Kadi stormed away angrily. In the dream she saw the bodies of pathetic dead 
creatures lying about everywhere, piles of skin and bones. And it was her fault. 
Her sister Haramis came to warn her that the people would die next: all of the 
humans living in the Peninsula and the aborigines of the Mire and mountains as 
well. The dream-sister pointed out the window toward the north, where both the 
White Lady and the Black Sorcerer were said to live. Only those two would 
survive, Haramis warned, if Anigel did not bring the Rain. 
Death would come from that way—not in the form of a dry hot wind but as a great 
storm of fire born of the final conflict between the Archimage Binah and 
Orogastus. The fire would consume the known world unless she, little helpless 
Anigel, stopped it. 
"But I can't!" she moaned, terror-stricken to the depths of her soul. "I've tried, but 
I don't know how! My heart is sore pained, and I'm so horribly afraid, and—I just 
can't!" 
In the dream, the Peninsular Kings and Queens and her father Krain and mother 
Kalanthe and brave Kadiya and clever Haramis looked at her with contemptuous 
pity. Then they left her locked alone in her room, in disgrace. She pounded on the 

door, sobbing, but no one came. Then she looked again out of the window, and 
saw a wall of flames that stretched from horizon to horizon and leapt higher than 
the Citadel's High Tower. 
It roared straight toward her while she screamed and screamed… 
"Wake up! Don't cry, sweeting, it's all right!" 
The flames were black-streaked vermilion lilies, dancing as she thrashed wildly in 
a net hammock hung from their vines. She was in a corner of a room built of 
squared and carved stones, all girt about with flowering plants. Immu had hold of 
her, restraining her lest she fall from the hammock. 
"A dream — it was only a dream," the old aboriginal woman crooned. "You're 
safe safe safe, my darling. Here with friends in Trevista." 
Anigel's frenzied cries stopped finally, and she climbed out of the hammock still 
all atremble, and sat on a block of stone while Immu sponged her face and 
combed her hair and laced her into the rosy satin gown. In a low voice, the 
Princess said, "I would like to tell you about my dream. In fact, I must tell you." 
Immu insisted on bringing something to eat first, even though Anigel had no 
appetite. And she added: "I will also bring along my best friend whose dwelling 
this is. If this dream of yours is important, then she is the one to interpret it, not I." 
Immu vanished through a doorway draped with filamentous lichen that made a 
fairly opaque curtain. Anigel drew a deep breath, grasped her amulet, and told 
herself to be calm. Immediately, she felt better. She looked about the chamber. 
Although it was open to the sky, there were enough stout leafy vines laced 
overhead to provide shade —and the suspension for two hammocks. Almost the 
entire wall behind the hanging nets was alive with the glorious orange lilies; and 
when she looked at them more carefully, she discovered that the blossoms were 
insectivorous. What a clever way to insure bug-free slumber!… 
On the previous night, uncertain that the trillium amulet would still render them 
invisible, she and Immu had emerged from their hiding place on the underside of 
the wagon-bed only after all the soldiers on board the flatboat had gone ashore. 

The two fugitives had crept down to the edge of the canal below the quay steps, 
where Immu had employed her speech without words to notify kinsmen on the 
other side of the water of their presence and need. 
In time, a fleet of Nyssomu craft had floated across to the Labornoki camp with 
the provisions promised by the Discerner. Two of the native boatmen were 
Immu's cousins, Sithun and Trezilun. They found Anigel and Immu with no 
difficulty at all, and insisted jovially that the women were certainly not invisible. 
This had confirmed Anigel's suspicions. While they were on the river, she had 
speculated that the amulet might only act protectively when the Princess-wearer 
was in the most deadly danger. The amber had refused to provide any comforts for 
them when Anigel besought it during the frightening three-day trip from the 
Citadel to Trevista. 
"Well, you're safe enough now," Trezilun had reassured them, as he helped them 
into the punt. It was a dugout some seven ells long with upswept pointed ends 
upon which glow-worm lanterns hung. The gun-Wales were festooned with 
flowers and both cousins wore chains of blossoms around their necks and tucked 
into the wispy hair between their upstanding ears. 
All throughout the brief trip across the canal, Anigel crouched on the damp floor 
of the boat, fearful that some enemy would spy her after all and sound the alarm. 
She knew very well that Orogastus and his two thaumaturgical underlings were on 
board the first flatboat. What if the sorcerer should come out on deck and see her 
with his own eyes? 
But nothing of the sort had happened. They landed safely at the Nyssomu 
settlement, which was called Karonagira, and the cousins conducted them down 
paved streets only partially cleared of encroaching vegetation, so that they seemed 
to be walking through a vast darkened tropical conservatory. There were other 
small figures moving about with will-o'-the-wisp lights, but none ventured near 
the newcomers. No illumination at all came from the ancient structures that 
loomed ghostly in the moonlight, so beautifully adorned with night-blooming 
plants that Anigel at first thought that the effect was artificial. The Trevista 
Nyssomu were simply besotted with flowers! They wore them, they draped their 
punts with them, they lived in the midst of them. 
Sithun and Trezilun left their passengers at a modest-sized stone dwelling with a 

garden-verandah overlooking the canal. There was apparently no one at home, but 
this had not bothered Immu. Although she herself could see quite well in the 
filtered moonlight, she had borrowed Sithun's lantern so that the Princess would 
not be frightened by the strange house. Locating the guest bedroom, she had 
bustled the exhausted girl off to sleep… 
"And now your real adventure begins," said a soft voice behind Anigel. 
The Princess jumped and gave a little cry. Then she laughed when she turned 
around and saw the speaker was another Nyssomu woman, even more venerable 
than Immu, whose woven-grass robe was studded all over with saucer-sized white 
blossoms, their stems fastened in place with thorns. She wore two great pompons 
of the same flowers at the sides of her head. But around her neck was not a 
garland but a platinum chain, and at the end of it was an object like a small, ornate 
hand lens. 
The Oddling woman raised the glass and peered through it at Anigel, who saw one 
yellow eye grotesquely magnified. "So you are the girl who dreams important 
dreams." 
That voice was very familiar. Anigel had listened to it yesterday while still hidden 
on the flatboat. "And you are the Discerner Frolotu! I did not recognize you 
differently attired." 
"To humans," the woman said gently, "we Nyssomu tend to look all alike." 
"I beg your pardon if I have offended you, Discerner. And I thank you for 
sheltering us." 
"But you did not sleep peacefully." 
"I had the most ghastly dream," the Princess said. "The worst nightmare of my 
life. Will you listen to me tell of it, and perhaps explain it to me?" 
Frolutu's two fanglike lower front teeth glistened as she smiled. "We'll see if that's 
possible. Let us go onto the terrace, where Immu is laying out your meal." 

Anigel hesitated. "I thank you, but I am not really very hungry. And if we go 
outside we will be within view of any who travel the canal. What if the sorcerer 
Orogastus or his minions should see me — " 
"We are deep within the islands," the Discerner said. "You are safe enough for a 
while. Sit down here and eat and tell this one the dream." 
When the Princess saw the food that Immu had prepared and set upon a graceful 
table of carved stone, she nearly burst into tears. During the three days of their 
upstream journey from the Citadel she had subsisted upon the rations Immu had 
carried: awful dried roots, sickly sweet mistberry leather, and nothing but water to 
drink. The amulet had ignored her pleas for something more edible. Here in 
Trevista she had expected to be served unpalatable Nyssomu dishes that would 
further affront her delicate digestion — but there was a surprise. 
"Oh, Immu! Real food!" 
The crockery and tableware were strange, but the meal itself was her familiar 
Citadel breakfast: little rice hotcakes drizzled with water-bee honey, a curd-omelet 
filled with fresh mushrooms, spicy broiled sausages, ladu juice, and a steaming 
pot of darci tea. There were large dishes of everything, and the Princess devoured 
it like a starving thing, which of course she was, babbling her gratitude with her 
mouth full while Immu pretended to be affronted. 
"Real food, indeed! Silly spoiled girl. And I suppose you think the Nyssomu 
subsist on roots and berries and swampwater all of the time!" 
Anigel was abashed. "I fear I never thought at all about what the wild Oddlings 
eat. Immu, I'm sony. I should have taken an interest, as Kadiya did —" 
"Never mind, love." The Discerner Frolotu was peering at her again through her 
lens and smiling. "Both Immu and this one know that there is no malice in your 
heart, only the heedlessness of youth." 
"But where did you get this food?" Anigel asked. 

"Questions questions questions!" Immu snapped. "From the nobles' commissary 
over in Lusagira Square, if you must know. I had Sithun and Trezilun steal a 
fairish amount, knowing how you suffered whilst eating our trail rations on the 
river. It will last for a little while on the journey to Noth. But in time you will have 
to master your tender stomach's preferences and accept what the country 
provides." 
"I expect I will," the Princess said, between gulps of tea. "When I get hungry 
enough! But tell me — have you really found a way for us to travel to the home of 
the Archimage?" 
"Thanks to Frolotu. She has friends among the Uisgu who have agreed to take you 
in a rimorik-drawn punt." 
The Princess sprang up from her seat, knelt at the Discerner's feet, and kissed both 
her wrinkled taloned hands. "Thank you, dear Lady! I thank you with all my heart, 
and I will find some way to reward you." 
The old woman tut-tutted as she disengaged herself. "Child, this one's reward will 
be your fulfillment of your destiny." 
"You—you know something of it?" 
"This one knows the prophecies concerning the Three Petals of the Living 
Trillium who will deliver our beloved Mazy Mire from mortal danger. And it 
seems that you are one of the designated." 
Anigel flushed and turned away. "I wish it were not so. I am very much afraid — 
not brave or clever like my sisters. And my dream told me that I would fail." 
Frolotu laughed. "Oh, it did, did it? Suppose you finish your tea and tell us this 
dream." 
All three sat down at the table, and Anigel described her nightmare in detail while 
the Discerner toyed with the lens and occasionally scrutinized the girl through it. 
Anigel was too shy to ask what the device revealed, or why it was used instead of 

the pointing reed that had helped Frolotu read the heart of Prince Antar. 
"This one will tell you why!" the surprising old woman said. "The lens is a device 
of the Vanished Ones. It serves to focus thoughts upon the mind of another. But it 
teaches its user also, and after a time one need not always use it. If the wicked 
enchanter had seen it yesterday, he would have taken it no matter how Prince 
Antar attempted to forbid him. And so this one used the reed, which no human 
would value." 
"You use the lens now, however," Anigel said. 
"Yes, child. In the morning, the faculties of the elderly are at low ebb and we need 
all the help we can get… But finish telling of your dream." 
Anigel related everything to the last detail, and the reliving was so distressing that 
she turned as wan as the terrace stonework and could barely finish speaking. At 
the end the Discerner sat back with her great eyes closed and her wide lips 
mumbling silent words. 
Anigel waited, full of dread. All around the flower-banked terrace, birds and 
insects sang, and silver fishes leaped out in the canal. Then Frolotu's eyelids 
opened with an audible pop. 
"Do you know what the dream means?" Anigel asked timidly. 
"Of course! Now, the usual thing for a sage to do when queried about things like 
this is to demand that the dreamer herself analyze the dream. Or else the wise one 
must utter some mealy-mouthed cliche to the effect that understanding will come 
to you all in good time. But this one will not trifle with you, girl! Your path will 
be difficult enough, and the kindest thing to do is tell you plain: your dream means 
that you are a coward, and you would like to shirk your hard duty." 
"But I knew that!" the Princess wailed. 
"Hush, now, hush. Listen to the explanation. Dreams are sometimes vouchsafed 
by the Lords of the Air — but this sort of thing is very uncommon. Most dreams 

actually come from deep within our secret self. And a disturbing, important dream 
like this one means that your secret self—the most important part of you, that 
which is closest to reflecting the image of God — is full of anxiety about the way 
that you are behaving. It is both warning you and urging you to do better: to be 
true to the noble instincts that prompt you, and to overcome selfishness and 
cowardice." 
"But I don't know how!" 
"You will be told," the Discerner said softly. "You have already started on your 
path. This one has seen it all through the glass. What is necessary is that you get 
on with it—one day after another, determined and trusting." 
The Princess looked doubtful. "But that seems too simple." 
Both Frolotu and Immu laughed long and merrily. At first Anigel was hurt, then 
angry, and finally she had to laugh with them. 
"You have escaped death through many miracles and with the help of good 
friends." Frolotu's face had become grave. "The next steps you must take are 
clearly set out for you. You must go resolutely, whether you are afraid or not. 
There is no shame in fear, Princess. We cannot help it. But sometimes we are 
solemnly obliged to carry on in spite of it." 
The Princess looked down in her lap, where her hands were tightly clenched. "I — 
I will try." 
"Good." Frolotu arose from her seat. "The Uisgu boat that we have summoned 
will be here this evening. Until then, you must remain sequestered. That foul 
sorcerer has left one of his minions behind at the garrison—we assume to begin 
the search for you and your sister Princesses. But you will be off to Noth before 
moonrise. If all goes well, you should reach the abode of the White Lady in about 
four days." 
Anigel was downcast at the thought of resuming her journey so soon. But when 
she spoke her voice held a touch of healthy irony. "It would be very consoling to 
be able to have a good cry right now, mourning my dead and feeling very sorry 

for myself. I could not weep on the boat because the sound might have betrayed 
us. And now it seems there is no time for it. Well, perhaps this is another purpose 
of dreams. I can bawl my eyes out in that shadowland, and cower and refuse 
destiny night after night, and it is no sin nor weakness. But when I am awake I 
will do my best to simply… get on with it!" 
"That's my girl," crowed Immu. 
The Discerner smiled her approval. "Your secret self wishes to help you. By 
confronting your nightmares head-on, you will surely learn to fear them less." 
A trace of the old panic momentarily resurfaced on Anigel's face. She appealed to 
her old friend. "But you will stand by me all the way, Immu, won't you? If I were 
alone — I don't think—" 
"I will love and serve you all my days," Immu said. She reached out to the girl 
beside her and embraced her and kissed her cheek. "I am coming along with you 
to Noth, of course, and I will accompany you wherever the White Lady sends you. 
But there will come a time, as it comes for all of us, when you must stand fast by 
yourself." 
Anigel buried her face in her old nurse's shoulder. "Not too soon. Please, not too 
soon." 
Chapter Thirteen 
Kadiya awoke into twilight and the smell of broiling fish which immediately 
roused in her a hunger she found near to pain. It seemed that Jagun had dared a 
small fire .and was tending a number of garsu, the longest hardly the length of her 
hand. 
Kadiya crept through the thick brush which guarded their camp and came to the 
water, where she used leaves to scrub her face and her hands. She longed for the 
warm pool of water back in the Citadel where she and her sisters had sported and 
learned to swim, for the handful of sweet-scented crystals from the south which 
one could strew on the water until one's body rested in a scented froth. Stoutly 
woven as the Oddling clothing was, hers showed rents, and the grease with which 

she was forced to smear herself now smelt rancid. Her lank hair she could only 
twist back and anchor with a stout length of reed. 
She came back to camp and Jagun was quick to hand her one of the spitted garsu 
which she ate with her fingers, licking them quickly when the heat and grease 
made them smart. 
Jagun was silent as she ate. Nor was he more communicative as they erased, as 
best they could, the signs of their occupancy and returned to the punt, pulling it 
back into open water. Kadiya persuaded him that she should take a hand in their 
voyaging and he put aside the scull for a pole, giving her its twin. 
This exercise was not new to the girl, but she found it took her a measure of time 
to fall into the pattern which matched Jagun's efforts. She found that once she had 
captured the proper rhythm there was something almost hypnotic about it. Plunge 
the pole, exert her strength, plunge again. She was in the bow and she glanced 
frequently at the spark riding in her amulet. 
They rested from time to time. Once they paused to pull from the water the roots 
of certain lilies. The huge blossoms were still only buds so that the roots could be 
eaten with impunity. Those, with what was left of the garsu, formed their midnight 
meal. 
This had been an evening of silence. Kadiya felt a constant unease. Even the 
hypnotic swing of the poles could not keep her from fearing some invisible, 
voiceless attack. Among his own people Jagun ranked very high in trailcraft, and 
she could be sure that he would be instantly alive to any natural threat. But those 
were attacks from the outer world, while this thing that she feared came from the 
inner which she had not even realized existed until its first manifestation. 
"Jagun." She kept her voice very low, hardly higher than the buzz of the many 
insects about them. "What still lies before us?" How she wished now that she had 
paid more attention to that large mural map which had covered, in very faded 
colors, the wall of the Citadel council chamber. 
"We head into the Goldenmire," he said. "Before that we touch at Vurenha." 

"Your own clan place." 
"Yes. I am of the outer clans. Beyond that lies what only a few of the Ancestors 
have ever seen. I cannot say what we will find there. We shall have to depend 
wholly on that which you wear." 
"Uisgu country?" she pressed. 
"Some of it, yes, but also the dark places where the Drowners set up their land 
poles. Of that we have tales in plenty, how much truth is in them we do not know. 
But we must cross that country to reach Noth, for if we go by the longer way we 
may be tracked by those who follow us." 
"You have been to Noth, Jagun?" 
"Once. It was when you were a babe. It is laid upon us who are hunters, that when 
we believe we are well skilled in our craft, we shall present ourselves to the Lady, 
that she may grant us the full freedom of the Mires. It was then that she instructed 
me to come to your Father's court, to serve as hunter and await the day of need she 
prophesied, that day which has so recently passed. Also it is laid upon us that any 
new discovery we may make of the Vanished Ones we report to her." 
"New discoveries?" Kadiya was intrigued. "Are there new discoveries still to be 
made then, Jagun? So many hundreds have passed since your people began to 
journey the Mires. What more might there be to find?" 
For a moment Jagun did not answer her. When he did there was a reluctant note in 
his voice. "Farseer, the Vanished Ones had secrets beyond any we can guess. It is 
also true that any ancient artifact which is unlike those discovered before must be 
taken to the White Lady of Noth. Some she keeps, and we know such things are 
dangerous and that their secrets are part of her guardianship." 
It was plain to Kadiya that he intended to say no more on that subject. But surely 
if he had seen the Archimage he could furnish her with some scraps of knowledge 
which would prepare her for her own meeting. 

"What is she like, Jagun? I know that she is mighty in magic, but how does that 
make her different from others? They have said that Orogastus is one who has a 
body like any other man but that he is of kingly appearance and able to turn such 
eyes upon a person that one can deny him nothing. But then the enemy always 
grows the greater in tales. If Orogastus is truly more than any man—then what is 
the Archimage?" 
"King's Daughter, she is the Lady, the Guardian. Life she knows and death, but 
with neither is she herself concerned. For life and death are the common lot of all. 
She has been ever the same since my people first looked upon her. She raises no 
hand to stop death and she beckons forth no new life. Instead she holds the 
balance true and we deal with time's passage after our nature. Only she holds the 
Mires against invasion, and now the balance has been over-weighted and must be 
set straight again. A thing, King's Daughter, for which you were born." 
Kadiya had thrust her pole deep. Now she did not withdraw it, but half turned in 
the punt to face Jagun. 
"I was born?" Her voice scaled up. 
"You three were born, Farseer. Time passes, and even the hardest stone must yield 
in the end to flowing years. She of Noth looks forward in time. Thus when she 
sees clouds gather it is her duty to prepare against the coming of the Winter Rains. 
Before the day of your birth. 
King's Daughter, certain of my people and certain of the Uisgu, were summoned 
to Noth. They were warned that there was Darkness growing and that she who had 
stood between us and all manifestations of that in the past was not this time able to 
summon up a wall of strength. However, she promised us this: there would be 
those who would follow after and reestablish the balance." 
Kadiya bit her lip. Once more her inner anger blazed up from the coals she 
carefully nourished. 
"A warning — she could have given a warning!" 
"Farseer, this is the first time in the memory of the history songs of my people that 

the White Lady of Noth has faced one of similar powers. He may be even greater 
than she had hitherto knowledge of. You wish to take blood price of Voltrik for 
your kin… perhaps that is but a small thing in comparison with that which you 
will have to claim before the end." 
"I have no magic — " she began. 
"Look you to those reeds." Jagun nodded to their right. "One such you can pull, 
and, with not much effort, you may snap it. Three you pull, twist well together, 
and you have a cord which will entrap a harfut. One you are, three you are…" 
Kadiya gave an impatient heave to her pole. "Haramis, Anigel, and I are to be 
your rope?" She laughed. "I fear you can do little skillful hunting with such a 
snare as that!" 
Magic —she had no magic, and certainly Anigel had never in her soft life showed 
any desire to play with forgotten lore. Magic! She did not want to think of that as 
a weapon. Let her meet Voltrik with true steel in her hands. She did not know how 
or when that would occur, but she believed that it would. And she would not 
depend upon any dubious magic to do then what must be done! 
Sometimes during that long night of journeying she could not hold under those 
thoughts. But always she forced her attention back to what lay about them. Twice 
they stopped by the shelter of some hummock to rest and eat. She rubbed her 
aching arms and shoulders but she refused to utter any complaint: in fact she and 
Jagun had very few words between them. 
Once there came a harsh, night-shattering scream. Kadiya, though she had never 
heard its like before, held steady. They were resting under the drooping limbs of a 
water-wyde tree and so screened and enshadowed. Above them the Triple Moons 
gleamed, and across the sky flew a black-winged shape which made the girl draw 
a deep breath in awe. The thing plainly was larger than the punt beneath her feet 
and its wingspread for a moment blotted out the stars. What it could be she had no 
idea; she had never even heard its like described before. 
It screeched again and then was gone. Yet Jagun made no move to venture out of 
their hiding place. The girl heard him utter a very low hiss, and he whispered: 

"The voor — and it hunts!" All the unease of one who must face a vastly more 
powerful foe was in the hunter's voice. 
"The voor?" 
"It could not have flown here from choice, for it is a creature of the heart of the 
unknown." He spoke as if he talked to himself. "What brings it to this country? 
Surely there must be a fearsome stirring over all the world." 
At length they began their advance once more, this time at a lesser pace. Kadiya 
took all the care she could to be as quiet as possible. Once more they heard that 
ear-torturing cry, but it sounded farther to the north, in the direction of their travel. 
They made camp as the sun arose. At first Kadiya would have steered away from 
the higher land toward which Jagun urged them, for there was good evidence that 
it contained more ruins and she could not forget what they had found in the last 
such place. But Jagun was emphatic, 
He pointed to some swirls in the dark water. "Sucbri — and surely a nesting of 
them. They do not allow themselves to be found near any place where there has 
been a camp." 
They landed on the island and Jagun disappeared, blowpipe in hand. The girl 
gathered pieces of the driftwood carried by the river in the rainy season, and with 
care set up, ready for the lighting, such a fire as would be the least visible. As she 
sat quietly then to wait, she opened all her senses to what lay about her. The odors 
of the swamp commingled. She smelled the scent of flowers, a breath of decay 
and rottenness, even traces of animal musk. Though she was no holder of the gift 
Jagun and other hunters possessed in its entirety, Kadiya set herself now to try to 
separate one of those wisps of odor from another and to recognize and classify 
each as best she could. 
Also she listened. There was life all about her, awaking into more strident sound 
as the sun arose. She recognized the click-clatter of a nas-beetle, and more 
distantly the half sleepy chirping of birds. There was such abundant life in the 
swamp and she and her kind were only intruders here. It would take more 
lifetimes than were accorded to those of her blood to be able to classify and know 

the swamp life even a small bit. 
Kadiya took up the amulet and held it into the first ray of sunlight which reached 
the camp. The small bud within was tight closed — although the spark of light 
showed at its very tip. Black, the flower was truly black as no other was known to 
be. It was the badge of her house — though the reason for that was something 
even the oldest of legends did not tell. 
Though she had not heard him coming Jagun was suddenly there. He had a pair of 
karawoks, water still dripping from their open mouths. His blowpipe was in his 
hand, and he looked, not toward her, but over his shoulder to his back trail. 
She could have counted to ten while he stood there. Then the tense line of his 
shoulders relaxed a little. Once more his gaze went from right to left as far as his 
head could turn while he stared back the way he had come. At last he dropped 
down with a sigh. His skin had greyed during the grueling efforts of their flight. 
He had dropped the karawoks without a glance as if the fact he had done so well 
with his hunting no longer meant anything. 
Instead, after resting his blowpipe over one knee, Jagun loosed from his belt a 
large misshapen bundle bound up in a leaf. This he unrolled quickly. With a gasp 
Kadiya drew back. The stench was so great it seemed as if whatever caused it had 
been hurled straight into her face. The thing was a lump of what looked like greenyellow 
solidified jelly. 
"Skritek-spawn." Jagun let the thing lie, wiping his hand vigorously on a wad of 
grass. "It is a very young one, but deadly enough." 
Kadiya simply stared. That the Skritek themselves had ventured this far south to 
set up a warn pole was beyond all reason. That they would have a weave-hive near 
here— Surely this could not happen! 
"There was a voor place of feeding," Jagun continued. "It had fed — on this." 
"How far does such a one fly?" she asked. 

"Bearing a full-sized spawn? Not far from the nearest known Skritek holdings-" 
Kadiya considered the threat behind that. "The Skritek are then moving south?" 
Jagun picked up the unrolled leaf, taking care not to touch what it held. He went 
away from their camp, dug a hole with a stick, and crammed the malodorous 
fragment in, pressing down dirt over it. 
There was a grim note in his voice as he returned. "We have many routes within 
the Mires, and most we know well. But no one can cover all this country. There 
are places of quaking mud which swallow all invaders, past which we cannot go. 
What lies beyond — " He shrugged. 
They ate and then Kadiya again took the first watch while Jagun rested. She found 
it harder than ever to stay awake, even when she set her thoughts on what might 
be the result of a deliberate change of Skritek territory. And she lapsed almost 
immediately into the deep sleep of one who has pushed her body to the limit when 
Jagun took her place. 
It was in the late afternoon when he roused her. He had been hunting again, and 
this time he had not only some of the sweet lily roots but garsu fish, the very sight 
of which made her mouth water. They ate slowly, savoring each bite, and then left 
the refuge, following always the promise of the amulet's light. 
That night they caught no sight of the voor, nor any trace that more existed along 
their path than the vegetation and usual inhabitants of the Mires. But now they 
were at last close to the Goldenmire, close enough to glimpse patches of the 
brilliantly colored flowering reeds which gave the district its name. 
When dawn warned them of the need for shelter they were able to rest in a place 
very different from the rough camps they had made along the way. For a hooting 
cry rang out, which brought an eager answer from Jagun. 
The bank of the great shallow river was now cleft by the mouth of a smaller 
stream. Jagun sent their craft straight into the opening. Now on either bank of the 
creek appeared Oddlings Kadiya thought to be Nyssomu by their woven garments. 
But when they called out to Jagun it was not in trade tongue, and she could only 

understand a word or two. Jagun nosed the punt closer to the left bank. One of the 
Folk stepped carefully into it, taking the pole from Kadiya and gesturing her to sit, 
as with powerful surges he sent the small craft forward. 
Thus she came to Vurenha, the only true Nyssomu village she had ever seen. 
Those who had trading concerns in Trevista lived in the ruins there. But here was 
no sign of any other history than that of their own kind. Their houses were set on 
piles in a wide expanse of water. Each stood at the center of a platform raised 
about five ells above the surface, nuzzled on two sides by a number of punts 
similar to that which had brought her here. 
Vines, with their roots in pots, were evenly spaced about the sides of each long 
house, and their growth had gone up the walls of the buildings until the leaves 
appeared to be sprouting from the structures themselves. The vines were now 
showing heavy pods of yellow, shading to scarlet, which weighed them down. 
Those Kadiya recognized as the raw materials from which a sustaining and tasty 
beverage was made. Along the shores of the small lake on which the village had 
been erected were crop plots, as well as pens for two of the food animals Nyssomu 
raised—woth and qubar — both larger than their wild cousins in the Mires. 
Their punt was sent to the side of one of the houses. There were figures outside all 
the dwellings now, but the four awaiting their arrival were older and two of them 
were women, their faces painted with small iridescent patterns and their grass 
robes fringed with small shells or bits of glittering material which might have 
come from the ruins. The tallest and most impressive appearing of the women 
now stepped forward to bid them welcome. 
"Greeting, First of the House." Jagun spoke slowly and this time Kadiya was able 
to understand every word. "May Those We Do Not Name bring honor and good 
life to all the clan and to this kinhold." 
The Nyssomu inclined her head with the same grace Kadiya had seen her Mother 
use upon a formal occasion of meeting an official embassy. 
"This one offers roof cover, Hunter," she said. 
Then Jagun introduced Kadiya: "First, this one is King's Daughter out of the Great 

Place. There has come much evil into our land. She has been summoned by the 
White Lady of Noth that council may be taken." 
The Nyssomu male who had poled the punt put out his hand and brought Kadiya 
up onto the platform to face the woman whom Jagun had greeted with such 
respect. Courtesy and custom the girl had been drilled in, but one needed a formal 
robe in which to make a proper curtsey. Instead she hastily improvised with the 
gesture she had seen used by one of the Oddling women of Trevista to another. 
Placing the palms of her hands together, she inclined her head forward. 
"I, Kadiya, daughter of King Krain, do wish all well in this kinhold." 
To her relief the woman replied with a gesture Kadiya did know — holding out 
her own hand palm up. Kadiya quickly fitted her palm to it. 
"Be at rest, King's Daughter," the woman said, with that widening of the lips 
which was an Oddling smile. Then she was quickly sober again. "True, there is 
death abroad, and all praise to Those We Do Not Name that you have come safe 
to us. Those who drown walk our land." She hesitated before she continued. 
"There is much which is dark-born abroad. But to this kinhold be free, King's 
Daughter, and let us give guest aid." 
The interior of the Nyssomu house was divided into a series of paired rooms 
opening off a hallway, and it appeared to Kadiya that each of these had been 
assigned to some special family or group. There were no men to be seen here, but 
by each door stood one or more women, all of whom bowed their heads as Kadiya 
and her hostess passed. Then they came to a door at hall's end and she did indeed 
discover that luxury, though it might not be of the same kind she was used to, was 
not unknown here. 
She found a carven tub (which by the look of it might have been brought out of 
some ruin) awaiting her, filled with clear water on which floated violet-blue petals 
which she recognized as one of the trade wares out of Trevista. Crushed between 
the hands and rubbed across the skin these not only released a lasting fragrance 
but also lathered into a cleanser. Happily, Kadiya shed her clothes and got into the 
tub. She scrubbed herself with perfumed petals and cleansed her tangled, greaseplastered 
hair. Oh, how she relished being clean again! 

Her hostess had seated herself on a bench across the room, and one by one six 
other Nyssomu females, as impressively mannered and dressed as she, came in to 
join her. Somehow, Kadiya did not find their presence disconcerting. There was in 
this place a feeling of calm and peace which was like a soothing balm of herbs 
laid upon the raw wound of her immediate past. 
A younger female brought forth a long robe of very finely woven grass for Kadiya 
to slip into. Her hostess arose then and gestured to a cushioned stool. When 
Kadiya seated herself another of the young women brought a tray on which dried 
corfer rinds, fancifully carved, were set out. 
When all had been served and they held their cups, the hostess tilted hers a 
fraction so a drop or two dripped to the floor. The others followed her example, as 
did Kadiya, trying to be alert to any point of etiquette which might bring the 
approval of these people. Many times at the Citadel she had been impatient of 
ceremony, sometimes inattentive enough to earn a rebuke from her Mother; but 
now she realized that she must indeed follow any gesture which would please the 
Nyssomu. 
Her hostess took a small sip from her cup and then held it out. Kadiya quickly 
followed her example and they exchanged cups which, again following her 
hostess's example, Kadiya emptied. A warm feeling of relaxation flowed through 
her body. 
"There is evil," her hostess broke the silence. "Those blood-eaters walk abroad, 
and with them another who is not of our country and who can bewilder thoughts. 
We have had messages from down-river. Many of our people have come out of 
Trevista, for that place is now held by dealers in death. We have sent a message to 
the White Lady of Noth. But as yet there has been no answer…" 
"First of the House," Kadiya leaned forward on her stool, "those who have 
invaded Trevista are ones who have little knowledge of the Mires. But they are 
ordered by an evil one learned in the strange arts, and one of his servants travels 
with the Skritek. However, I do not believe that soldiers used to the plains of 
Labornok can fight within Mire country. Your people who know all its twists and 
turns can surely go up against them and free this part of the land —" 

But her hostess was shaking her head slowly. "King's Daughter, it is not our 
custom to wage battles against those who come into our country. We have our 
own defenses but we do not carry death to others." 
Kadiya bit her lip. So clearly had she seen the chance to harry the enemy force, 
using these Nyssomu who could turn every trick and terror of the countryside 
against the enemy if only they would! Deep in her anger gnawed once more. But 
what could she do? Impatience had driven her so many times in the past into some 
folly; but this time there must be no mistakes made if she could help it. 
She fingered her amulet. 
"The Lady of Noth," she said carefully, "has summoned me. She has long been the 
Guardian of this land. Perhaps she will have an answer." 
The Nyssomu woman nodded approvingly. "That is right, King's Daughter. 
Greater than any other living she is, and mistress of many strange powers. We 
shall give you what aid we can to reach her." 
And with that Kadiya had to be content. 
Chapter Fourteen 
The melody played by the fipple flute was "The Rosy Sunset Pool," one of 
Haramis's favorites, a sad and soaring ballad of a lonely riverman far from his 
home and loved ones. When the last silvery note died away in echoes among the 
frosted crags, the Princess said, "That was beautiful indeed, old friend." 
"I wish I could have played on," Uzun said apologetically, "but I am having 
difficulty moving my fingers quickly." He huddled more deeply into his fur-lined 
mantle and extended his wet boots closer to the little campfire of twisted sticks. 
Night was fast approaching, bringing with it a cold wind from the glaciers above 
that cut exposed skin like a knife. 
"Never mind, Uzun. I think if you had played longer, I would have wept for 
melancholy. The riverman in the song at least had the hope of returning to his 

family and homeland, but for me there is no home, and those I loved are dead." 
"Mayhap not your sisters, my Princess." 
She looked across the bleak, rocky slope, beyond the torrent of the Vispar River 
that they had followed higher and higher into the Ohogan Range. Above 
shadowed ridges, the majestic bulk of Mount Rotolo was tinged ruddy against the 
cloud-streaked evening sky by the sun's afterglow. 
"I pray that Kadiya and Anigel still live," Haramis said, "but you know as well as I 
that Kadiya was preparing to die bravely against overwhelming odds when we 
parted. As for Anigel, I should not be surprised to learn that she perished of 
fright!" She blinked back sudden tears. "Poor little idiots!" She forced her 
thoughts hastily back to her current problems. "And we may join them soon, if 
these wretched trillium seeds lead us much higher into the mountains. There is 
now almost no wood for fires, no more edible roots or berries. There are no fish in 
the river since it began to run white, and the water tastes odd. What is that 
powdery stuff in it, do you know?" 
"It tastes like rock to me," Uzun said. "At any rate, if it were poisonous…" 
"—we would be dead already," Haramis agreed. "But I still don't like it. And I 
worry about you, Uzun; you should not be up here in the cold. It cannot be good 
for you; your body was not meant to dwell here." 
"I'm perfectly well!" Uzun protested. "All I need is to be warmed up a bit and 
have my boots dried out." 
"But they'll be soaked through all over again, once we set out slogging through 
patches of wet snow tomorrow," Haramis pointed out. "My blood runs warmer 
than yours, Uzun, and I can bear it. But you are Nyssomu, born to dwell in the 
warmth of the Mire. I have seen your face grow more and more grey with pain all 
throughout this day, and your steps are slower." 
"I am holding you back," he murmured miserably. 

"That's not important, I am in no hurry to freeze to death, God knows! But I think 
it unlikely that you will get better: More likely you will become worse as it gets 
colder." 
She rose from her place beside the fire, yanked off her fur-lined mittens, and 
began to remove his wet boots. "We must get these off, they will never dry while 
on your feet." 
"No, no — I must serve you! Never you serve me!" 
"Be silent," she commanded, with mock sternness. When she had stripped off his 
boots and soggy felt liners and the inner wadding of grass —insulating when dry, 
but reduced now to a useless mess that clung to his taloned toes — she pulled her 
warm mittens onto his feet like slippers. Then she set out his footgear carefully so 
that the fire's meager heat would penetrate them, and gave him a drink from the 
small, soot-blackened crock that they used to brew darci tea. 
The elderly Oddling uttered a deep sigh. "That feels so much better. But you 
should not have demeaned yourself—" 
She pressed one finger to his lips, silencing him. "Now listen to me, Uzun. I have 
thought on this matter most carefully, and I have made up my mind. My wish is 
that you now turn back, having accompanied me as far as you are able, while I 
continue on alone." 
"No! No!" he cried, spilling tea in his agitation. 
"Did I not say my mind is made up?" she said. "We know that we have nearly 
reached that part of the mountains where no living thing— save perhaps the fabled 
Eyes in the Whirlwind — can long survive. Our food is nearly gone and there is 
no chance of getting more. Soon not even the dwarf trees will be able to grow, and 
there will be no firewood. If I am a person of high destiny, as the White Lady said, 
then we can assume that the Lords of the Air will shelter and sustain me somehow 
or other as I follow the trillium seeds. But you, my dear friend, must turn back. 
The quest is mine, and I must fulfill it alone. The Archimage told me that. Did she 
not tell you also that you must leave me before the end of my journey?" 

Uzun bowed his head without speaking. He wiped his streaming eyes on his 
sleeve, then sipped slowly from their communal tea crock. 
"If you turn back now," Haramis continued, "you can be out of the snowfields 
within half a day. Another day will see you in the fertile portion of the Vispar 
River, where garsu and other fish abound, and there are plenty of ripe and 
nourishing berries, and the nights are frost-free. You can follow the river 
southward until you encounter friendly Uisgu, and they will bear you in their 
boats to Trevista and your kin." 
"But how can I leave you all alone? The Triune knows that I am a wretched 
outdoorsman, but you — forgive me, Princess! —you are even less competent to 
survive in this wilderness than I!" 
"I need no special survival skills now. There are no more fish to gut, no more bogvarts 
to snare, no more wild plant-foods to search out or prepare. The food that 
remains in my pack will keep me from starving for a little while, and I know 
enough to let the sediment settle from the river water before drinking it. I can 
climb rocks with fair agility—I've certainly had enough practice lately—and the 
seeds will undoubtedly find me dry dens to bed down in for a few more days, at 
least, until the entire landscape is covered with deep snow. If I have not come to 
my goal by then…" She shrugged. "Well, perhaps the Eyes in the Whirlwind will 
take pity on me and take me to one of the fabled green valleys of the high 
Ohogans, where the Vispi are said to dwell among hot springs, and flowers bloom 
while the blizzards pass harmless overhead." 
Uzun said in a low, thoughtful voice: "Truly, I did wonder whether the White 
Lady had set us on the path to some such place." 
"What do you know of the Vispi?" 
"They never come out of the mountains. They trade precious metals and 
gemstones to the Uisgu, and these are passed to the Nyssomu, and thence make 
their way to humankind, either at the Trevista Fair, or at the smaller markets of the 
Dylex villages. They take in trade mainly domestic animals —especially the more 
rugged kind of volumnial, togars, and nunchiks with furry coats. They also crave 
salt and all kinds of sweets — water-bee honey is the mainstay of Uisgu trade 

with them — and a few other products." 
"What do they look like?" 
"No Nyssomu has seen one and lived, for their lands are forbidden to swamp 
Folk." 
"Since you would obviously freeze to death before you reached them," Haramis 
muttered, "that makes sense." 
Uzun continued: "The grassland Folk, the Uisgu, say that Vispi are taller than men 
but more slender. They are of the Folk, for they bear their young in a finished 
state of body, rather than as ravenous larvae, as the wretched Skritek do. The Eyes 
in the Whirlwind, those guardians of the mountain passes that once helped keep 
our land safe from invasion—they are said to belong to the Vispi, and to serve the 
White Lady." 
Haramis said: "Some of our hill-fort guards told tales of Vispi dancing on 
newfallen snow. They were said to be beautiful." 
"They are also said to be the oldest of Folk. But no one really knows. Our taletellers 
say that they live in deep valleys in the flanks of Mount Rotolo, Mount 
Gidris, and Mount Brom. There, hot springs and steaming rivers are supposed to 
flow, moderating the terrible cold and barreness, so that plants may grow. And 
there are ice-caves round about the Vispi lands that slowly thaw, giving forth 
jewels and nuggets of gold and platinum as well as baser stones, and these are 
washed downhill by the mountain torrents. Some of those ice-caves are said to 
have belonged to the Vanished Ones, and very rarely, one of their ancient devices 
will be offered by the Vispi in trade." 
"How fascinating," Haramis murmured. She prodded the fire with the iron-shod 
tip of her walking-staff, moving unburned portions of twigs onto the scanty pile of 
glowing coals. For many minutes she was silent. Then she said suddenly, "Uzun, 
will you try to scry for me?" 
"For your sisters?" 

"No, not them. The Vispi." 
He gasped. "I — I can but try. If they are truly Folk, they don´t have auras, as 
other natural beings do." 
She pointed wordlessly at the tea-crock, which still had a fingerwidth of dark 
liquid remaining in its bottom. Uzun nodded and took it up. He swirled the tea in 
the bowl, causing it to rotate faster and faster while he stared into the small vortex. 
Then his body stiffened, and his gaze became fixed and unfocused, and beads of 
oily sweat made his forehead shine. 
Haramis waited. The rosy glow that had suffused the snowy peaks faded to grey. 
The sky, which had been cloudless throughout the days of their journeying, now 
showed a few long pearly streamers of cirrus reaching forth from the south, the 
harbingers of the winter monsoon. Some years the storms came early. If this 
should happen, she was certainly doomed… 
"Movis," Uzun whispered. 
Startled, Haramis gripped his shoulder. "Have you seen something?" 
"Movis," he repeated. His great golden eyes looked into hers as he came to 
himself and slowly set down the tea-crock. "The name of their great settlement is 
Movis, and it lies above us and to the west." 
"Did you scry it clearly?" she demanded, her face alight with excitement. "How 
far from here is it?" 
"I can't tell that, I only know that it is there, somewhere in that direction. The 
Vispi are able to hide it completely from searchers if they wish, but I bespoke 
your name, and they granted me a momentary view of Movis… and said that they 
await you." 
Haramis felt her heart pounding. Her bare hand went into her tunic and took hold 
of the warm amber amulet nestling against her skin. Movis! A real place, not some 
fever-dream of the dying Archimage! It was not, after all, a fool's chase the 

winged seeds led her on, but a true quest. Or so she could hope… 
To Uzun, she said: "You have served me well. This scrying of yours gives me 
renewed confidence, where before I had only uncertainty. I confess to you, Uzun, 
I had begun to fear that the White Lady was only a sick and deluded witch, 
sending me to certain death." 
"Movis is not close by," the little musician said, worry creasing his brow. "It is 
surely several more days' journey away, over the most rugged sort of terrain." 
"My seeds will guide me," she told him, smiling. "I will find the place, never fear, 
and the Vispi living there will surely help me on my quest for the Three Winged 
Circle." 
"They seemed to bespeak me with good will," Uzun admitted. He wriggled his 
feet, still enveloped in Haramis's furry mittens, and the concern ebbed slowly 
from his face. "Perhaps everything will be all right, after all." He yawned, then 
hastily begged the Princess's pardon. 
She only laughed. "You are right, beyond a doubt. And while I shall miss your 
dear face and your music, you will serve me best by turning back. You can begin 
to turn this journey into a ballad, to be sung when I am Queen in Ruwenda. 
Indeed, from the way you speak at times, you appear to be working on it already." 
"Very well," Uzun sighed. "I shall turn back. You will certainly travel much faster 
without me. I can leave you with a lighter heart, hoping that the Vispi have been 
commanded by the Archimage to assist you. And as I travel south, I will now and 
again try to scry you out, and thus reassure myself of your safety." 
"Of course you shall," Haramis said. She took up his boots and felt socks, which 
were now nearly dry. "Tuck these in the bottom of your sleep-sack and they will 
finish drying while you rest." 
She helped him to slip into the downy bag, and he curled up with his back against 
a large rock on the opposite side of the fire. Even before Haramis had laid out her 
own sleep sack and drunk up the dregs of the tea, he was asleep and snoring. 

She tidied up the campsite, then went slowly down to the stream. Hoarfrost was 
already forming on the bare rocks, and patches of snow among the sharp crags 
glimmered in the twilight. She half-filled their largest waterskin, flinching at the 
icy touch of the river. By morning, after freezing and thawing, the grey mud 
suspended within the water would settle, and the water would be fit to drink. 
At her feet, something twinkled, and she saw it was a tiny pool reflecting a single 
star. A perfect scrying vessel… 
Could I perform such magic myself? For that matter, is scrying truly magic or is it 
a mental skill, like the speech without words the Oddlings use? I wonder if I can 
scry my sisters… I know that they may well be dead, but I don't feel that they are. 
Of course, even if I can't see them, it proved nothing. Suppose the Archimage set 
some barrier about the three of us—a sort of concealing spell—to frustrate 
Labornoki adepts such as Orogastus who would seek us out in order to kill us? 
But perhaps if I searched for my sisters, whose destiny is said to be linked with 
mine, the barrier would not stop me… It can't hurt to try. 
She knelt above the little pool, careful not to blot out the light of the star, and said 
a brief prayer. Then she swept all thought from her mind, let her only reality be 
the faint silver spark on the water, and the imagined face of her sister Kadiya. 
Kadi… Kadi… Do you live? Let me see you! 
A smile. A rich scent of perfumed water, soap bubbles, russet hair afloat — 
Then nothing. 
Haramis sat back on her heels. For a moment, for the merest flicker of a second, 
she had seemed to grasp certain elusive images. But there was no true vision of 
Kadi, only those scraps of sensation, having no source, surely, save her own 
imagination, over-sharpened by fatigue. 
She sighed. Well, she had not expected to succeed. Scrying was an Oddling talent, 
not one humans possessed. She was a perfect idiot to squat here half-freezing 
beside a mountain river when she could be nestled in her sleep-sack, where such 

fancies belonged. Sighing, she trudged uphill to bed. 
Chapter Fifteen 
The Uisgu boat sped along by the light of the Triple Moons, and Anigel awoke 
with a smothered gasp. She had had the dream of drought and fire again, for the 
fourth night running, and her body was clammy and stiff with terror beneath the 
plant-down sleep-sack that Immu had tucked around her. Damn the dream! It was 
so stupid to live that painful unreality over and over. She took hold of the trillium 
amulet on the chain around her neck. It felt warm against her icy palm as she 
asked why her secret self had sent the wretched nightmare yet again. She knew 
what it meant! She had faced her shortcomings and promised to be brave, hadn't 
she? Why did the phantoms persist in tormenting her? It wasn't fair! 
Screwing up her determination, she pushed the fearful dream-memories aside and 
concentrated on the here and now. 
She was moving along in a watercraft that was pointed at both ends and about the 
same length as the Nyssomu punts; but instead of being carved from a kala-log it 
was fashioned from long bundles of reeds, tightly plaited together like a great 
basket and coated inside with some hard substance. The two rimoriks that hauled 
the Uisgu boat were streamlined furred creatures larger than a man, with sleek 
heads, enormous black eyes, and webbed paws with formidable claws. Their 
bodies were dapple-green and their only voice was a hiss. They did not like 
humans and had bared their tusks when Anigel tried to make friends with them. 
The creatures were hitched to the boat by means of a double harness attached to 
the stem, and the Uisgu drivers, whose names were Lebb and Tirebb, controlled 
their aquatic steeds by means of reins running through rings on each side of the 
bow. Anigel was obliged to ride and sleep on a little pallet in the boat's narrow 
stern, so as not to upset the rimoriks with her human aura. They stopped every six 
hours or so to exchange their tired beasts for fresh ones at a Uisgu village and 
allow the two drivers to spell one another. 
The strange country of the Goldenmire, which they had traveled through for the 
past three days, was blazing hot during the daytime. Very few native animals were 
in evidence except for dense flocks of birds, gauzy-winged flies — some with a 
wingspan of half an ell — and myriads of fish. The sharp-edged grasses often 
grew to twice Anigel's height and were crowned by feathery golden-yellow flower 

panicles. 
At first their boat followed a convoluted narrow channel through a very dense 
region of the glade north of Trevista, twisting and turning every which way until 
Anigel lost all sense of direction. On their second day of travel they passed into 
country where the grass was shorter and the waterways less distinct. The rimoriks 
then simply swam straight ahead through the trackless submerged prairie, and the 
boat swished along over the grass as though it were on a greased roadway, hardly 
touching the water. 
Their stopping places were always small elevated islands thickly overgrown with 
hardwood trees and shrubs laden with all sorts of flowers and fruits. There the shy 
Uisgu had their small villages, where they subsisted upon raw fish, the abundant 
wild produce, and a "sacred" brown beverage named miton, the nature of which 
Immu refused to explain at the same time that she forbade Anigel to sample it. 
Unlike the Nyssomu, the Uisgu did not use fire. They dwelt in grass huts woven in 
the same massive basketry style as their boats, mounted on stilts for safety's sake 
during the monsoon-season floods. The Folk were much smaller than their 
Nyssomu kin, and wore nothing except for golden jewelry set with gems, which 
they obtained in trade from the Vispi of the northern mountains, and a short, kilt 
like garment. Around their protruding eyes were painted colored rings, and the 
bare chests of the males were adorned with a painted design of three circles 
interlocked at a center point. Their bodies were mostly covered in short hair, 
lubricated with a heavy oil having a powerful musky smell. Anigel hardly noticed 
the odor now; but when she had first met the two Uisgu boatmen, Lebb and 
Tirebb, back at the home of the Discerner, she had had to control her revulsion at 
their slimy hand-shake. No wonder certain crude Ruwendians referred to the little 
Oddlings as Slippery Devils! The boatmen and Immu could barely understand one 
another's dialect, but there was not much need for conversation. The two Uisgu 
knew very well where the ruined city of Noth lay, and they had promised Frolotu 
to conduct the Princess and Immu there as quickly as possible. 
After dark, when the stars above the prairie were unobscured by mist and seemed 
twice as bright as normal, the Goldenmire had an orchestra of night-sounds 
completely different from those of the Lower Mutar or Trevista. No large animals 
howled or roared out here in the vast treeless region; instead, the swamp noises 
were percussive and syncopated, like hundreds of tiny drums, all with different 
pitches, playing an ever changing melody accompanying the hiss of the boat 

through the sea of grass. The sound was hypnotic, and Anigel felt herself dozing 
off again. 
No dreams, no dreams, she begged feebly, letting oblivion claim her. And when 
she awoke the boat had stopped, and she felt greatly refreshed, and it was dawn. 
Three peculiar little faces were staring at her over the gunwale, their expressions 
both fascinated and horrified. They had a familial resemblance to the Nyssomu, 
but their upstanding ears were proportionally larger, as were their sharp teeth, and 
their heads and necks and cheeks were covered with slick, oily fur. The eyes of 
one were ringed with yellow paint; the others wore eye-paint of pink and ochre. 
The Princess gave a squeak of surprise and the three faces dropped down out of 
sight. 
"Oh, I'm sorry," she said softly. "Don't be afraid, little Uisgu. I know that I look 
ugly and gigantic to you, but I won't hurt you." 
First one head reappeared, and then the other two. They were no larger than the 
heads of human babies. The Uisgu children conversed among themselves in an 
agitated twitter, obviously arguing about the nature of the monster they had found 
asleep in a boat on their beach. 
"It's quite all right," Anigel reassured them. She held up the trillium amulet on its 
chain — and suddenly everything seemed to be explained. 
The three young Uisgu uttered a joyous trill and showed their diminutive fangs in 
wide grins. They crawled up onto the gunwale and would have climbed right into 
the boat with her, but she laughed and told them: "No, no. Please sit there while I 
get dressed. Then you can take me to your village. I suppose Immu and Lebb and 
Tirebb have gone there already to arrange for fresh rimoriks, leaving me here to 
slug-abed!" 
She pushed aside the sleep sack and sat up, slipping a soft, woven-grass robe over 
her shift. She had worn Frolotu's gift of aboriginal clothing with reluctance at 
first; but the pale green robe proved to be much cooler than her torn, dirty court 
dress, and its long bell-sleeves and ample hood protected her from the powerful 

sun of the open grassland. She had also discarded her ruined slippers in favor of 
calf high buskins with sturdy sandals strapped over them. The traveling outfit was 
completed by a braided fiber belt having a large leather wallet hung from it, in 
which the Princess carried her handkerchief, comb, knife, and a few other 
necessities. 
One of the juvenile Uisgu had vanished from its perch on the rail. It now 
reappeared, giggling, and handed her a string of waxy white flowers that exuded a 
spicy perfume. Anigel thanked the little creature, formed the flowers into a 
garland, and set the gift on her hair. Then she clambered out of the boat and 
followed the trio down a narrow path. 
The village was only a short distance away, and consisted of five huts on stilts and 
the usual open-air shelter built at ground level, where the Uisgu customarily 
gathered to socialize, confer, and prepare and eat meals during the dry season. 
Immu and the boatmen Lebb and Tirebb were being served breakfast from the 
community pot. The village headman welcomed Anigel with a kindly but 
incomprehensible speech and ordered that she be given food also. 
By now she was used to the chopped raw fish, which had been marinated in acidic 
fruit juice until it was white, flaky, and very similar in texture to the cooked kind. 
She also took slices of melon and a handful of rich-flavored blok-nuts, but 
followed Immu's lead in politely declining the sacred miton drink. 
"These people say that Noth is now only a few hours away," Immu told the 
Princess. "The submerged part of the Goldenmire that the rimoriks can swim 
through comes to an end a few leagues beyond the village, where the water 
becomes very shallow. We shall have to cut over to the River Nothar, slightly to 
the east, and follow it for a ways in order to reach the home of the Archimage. 
The Uisgu do not usually dare to approach her dwelling without invitation, but I 
have explained to them who you are and why the White Lady has summoned 
you." 
The headman, who was distinguished from the other eight adult males of the 
village by the ornateness of his golden collar and bracelets, his kilt of glittering 
fish-scales, and the triple rings of white paint around his eyes, approached the 
Princess when she had finished eating and harangued her at some length in his 
own language. Anigel tried not to flinch as his taloned fingers lifted the trillium 

amulet that hung at her throat and displayed it to his people. 
The little band of Uisgu uttered a low, marveling cry that was cut short by the 
chattering of the three children, who were no doubt informing their elders that 
they had recognized Anigel already. 
"These Uisgu who live in the western part of the Mazy Mire keep in close mental 
contact with their fellows," Immu said to the Princess in a low voice. "This 
headman says that you are not the only Petal of the Trillium en route to Noth. 
There is another — beyond a doubt your sister Kadiya—who has survived the 
perils of the Blackmire. She and her companion — this must be Jagun — have 
reached a Nyssomu village near the confluence of the Nothar River and the Upper 
Mutar." 
"How wonderful!" Anigel exclaimed. "We can wait at Noth for her to arrive!" 
Immu's expression was dubious. "That is for the Archimage to decide." 
The headman spoke again, this time gesturing toward the northern sky and 
frowning, then wiping the palms of his hands on his hairy flanks in an indication 
of extreme disapproval. 
"By the Flower!" Immu muttered. "He says that a third person wearing the trillium 
amulet set out from Noth over a week ago, moving northward into the foothills 
and then ascending into the snowfields of the high Ohogan Mountains. He says 
that this person is — is very unwise to enter this territory, which the Vispi have 
declared forbidden to all other races upon pain of death." 
"He can only be speaking of Haramis!" Anigel exclaimed. "And she would only 
go where the White Lady sent her! But how could she — " 
"Hush," Immu warned her. "Say no more." She gave a small speech of thanks to 
the villagers, then indicated to Lebb and Tirebb that it was time for them to be off. 
A pair of fresh rimoriks had already been harnessed up. 
The headman politely barred their way. Giving a curt order, he received from one 

of the Uisgu females a small stoppered drinking gourd that had been stained a 
bright red and enclosed in a knotted carrying net. This he solemnly presented to 
Anigel. 
"Is it miton?" the Princess whispered to Immu. 
"Yes. And this time you will have to take it, for it is a special gift that they rarely 
make to non-Uisgu — much less to humans. Thanks be to the Lords of the Air 
that they do not demand that you drink it down…" 
Anigel bowed her head and thanked the Folk in her own tongue. They seemed to 
understand. One wizened little Oddling granny trotted after them as they walked 
back to the boat, patting Anigel's shoulder and pointing again and again to the 
gourd with an encouraging smile. 
"Miton!" she said. "Miton! Miton ka poru ti!" 
They climbed into the boat, the Uisgu drivers at the bow, Immu and Anigel in 
their usual places in the stern. As they drew away from the island the villagers on 
shore raised their hands in farewell. The squeaky voice of the matron shouted one 
last time: "Miton ka poru ti!" 
"What do her words mean?" Anigel asked Immu. She held the gourd in her lap, 
examining the curious knots of the mesh that enclosed it. 
"She says, 'Miton gives strength and courage,' " Immu translated reluctantly. "This 
is why they call it a sacred drink." 
"But that's wonderful!" the Princess exclaimed in relief. "I'll have some right now, 
for I confess that the prospect of meeting the White Lady at last scares me 
witless." 
Immu turned away. As if speaking to herself, she said: "There is between the 
rimoriks and the Uisgu a strange symbiosis whereby each aids and cherishes the 
other. The people and the beasts are friends of the heart, not masters and domestic 
animals. The rimoriks are strong and courageous, while the weaker Uisgu have 

greater intelligence. Their bonding is continually reinforced by means of the 
miton, which both drink… and in it is mingled the blood of both species." 
The Princess sat as if turned to stone. One hand had gone instinctively to her 
amulet. 
"I cannot say," Immu concluded, "whether this drink gives courage or not. My 
people, the Nyssomu, generally view it with dread. Those few of us who have 
dared to take it —the rimorik drivers among us — become a breed apart. Certainly 
there is some strong magic in it, but you would be wise to turn this gift over to the 
Archimage, or at least consult her about its potential." 
"I —I will," said the girl. She sat for a long time without speaking, staring now at 
the scarlet gourd and then at the landscape ahead, where mountains had begun to 
loom against the northern horizon. 
After nearly an hour had passed, Anigel turned to Immu and smiled. "Only the 
Lords of the Air know whether this miton drink actually stiffens the backbone of 
one who drinks it. But a strange thing has happened… By simply sitting her and 
holding it, I have overcome my fear of meeting the White Lady. And that is magic 
enough for now." 
The ruins of Noth, although extensive, had much less grandeur than Trevista's, 
and Anigel was somewhat disappointed. The Uisgu boat brought them through an 
area of derelict and overgrown stone buildings to a lagoon all clogged with ranksmelling 
yellow purse-flowers, stuffed to the stamens with putrefying insect prey. 
They landed at a surprisingly tidy little dock. The sloping shore behind it was an 
expanse of short-clipped grass and civilized flower gardens that had been carved 
out of luxuriant jungle growth. Long-necked domesticated togars waddled about, 
just as they would have done in a freeholder's farmyard on the Knoll, now and 
then nibbling at the grass or some tidbit. A few dozen ells uphill, at the head of 
rustic flagstone steps, stood a cottage unlike any that Anigel had ever seen before. 
Its roof was a thick mound of dried grass and its walls were white-painted plaster 
with the dark wooden framing-beams visible. There was a stone chimney from 
which a small plume of smoke curled. The windows had lozenge-shaped leaded 
panes, and boxes at the sills holding flowers, and there were wooden shutters that 

could be closed over the glass during stormy weather. The front door was cut right 
across the middle — and only the bottom half was shut. Beside it was a wicker 
bench with a small striped furry animal asleep on it and a spinning wheel with a 
basket of fleece and a bowl full of yarn balls. The total effect was so charming and 
unthreatening after the somber ruins of the lost city that Anigel wondered out loud 
if they had come to the right place. 
Immu questioned the Uisgu Lebb and Tirebb, who were in an uncommon hurry to 
let off their passengers and retreat. The two little beings nodded vigorously and 
pointed to the house. One tossed out the traveling packs of Immu and the Princess, 
and the other sounded the hissing whistle that signaled the rimoriks to swim off. 
"Well!" Immu watched the boat speed away with evident consternation. "What do 
you think of that!" 
Anigel was already on her way up the garden steps. She called out: "Come 
quickly! You won't believe what I've found growing up here!" 
"Come come come," Immu grumbled, following on her short legs. There were 
several small trees laden with spherical orange fruit between the water and the 
house, and they had concealed another plant that Anigel now stood contemplating 
with awed admiration. 
It was a Black Trillium plant two ells tall, covered with huge blossoms. 
Immu fell to her knees and burst into tears. "It's true! We've found her! Oh, thanks 
be to the Lords of the Air!" The Princess knelt to comfort her friend; but a 
moment later both of them gasped with shock and clung to each other when a 
shadowy figure suddenly appeared, standing between them and the brilliant 
midday sun. 
"Lady?" Immu ventured, her voice quavering. 
The figure moved, and light fell on the face of an aged woman, a face so seamed 
and crumpled and worn that the features were nearly obliterated, except for filmed 
blue eyes sunk deep in dark sockets. She wore plain garments of white homespun, 
and a veil of embroidered lawn covered her straggling white hair. The hand she 

extended was emaciated, with swollen joints and prominent veins, and she wore a 
single great ring of platinum filigree set with amber, and in the glowing stone was 
a fossil trillium. 
"I am the Archimage Binah," she said. "Welcome." 
Anigel stumbled to her feet, leaving Immu sitting paralyzed on the ground. 
Something burned at her breast and she drew forth her amulet on its chain. Its 
amber was aglow, pulsing with her heartbeat, and the bud within had changed: it 
was partially unfurled. 
The old woman smiled and turned, gesturing for Anigel to follow. The Archimage 
walked with a painful, stooped shuffle, supporting herself with a silvery staff. The 
Princess followed without a trace of fear. How could anyone be afraid of this 
poor, dying White Lady? 
"Oh, you would be surprised," the Archimage responded, chuckling with a sound 
like dry leaves rustling over stones. "But you shall not fear me, dear child. I am 
your godmother who loves you. You must trust me." 
"I do," Anigel said. 
The Archimage paused at the tall trillium plant. "It is the only one of its kind that 
still grows in our land, and although it seems strong, it is dying, like me." 
Anigel cried out in dismay. But the old woman lifted one finger to her lips. 
"Another kind of Trillium will take its place, if God wills. Do you know what I 
speak of, daughter?" 
"Yes," the girl admitted. "But I am a weakling, and I may confound your great 
scheme if—" 
"Be still," Binah admonished. "Such fatuous speculation may call forth the very 
failure it rails against! You must cultivate serenity, little love, for that is the 
garment of true royalty. See how serene these flowers are, accepting nourishment 
from leaf and root, turning their faces always toward the sun, cherishing seeds 

deep within their hearts. And they will die serene, since otherwise their seeds may 
not be set free." 
Anigel shook her head in perplexity. "Please, Lady… I'm sorry if I seem slowwitted. 
It is then my destiny to die for my country?" 
"I don't know," the Archimage said. "I do know that you must do an important 
work which will be revealed to you. And you will also receive a sign: a talisman 
signaling that the final struggle for Ruwenda, and for your own soul, is about to 
begin. Your sister Haramis has already set forth on her quest. Your sister Kadiya 
will go in search of her destiny shortly. Each will find her own talisman and in 
time the Three Petals of the Living Trillium will come once again together. 
Beyond this, where the finalization lies, I cannot see." 
Anigel had turned pale as chalk, but she stood calmly, still keeping a tight hold of 
her trillium amulet. "Will this gift, then, that you gave me at birth, guide me on 
my quest?" 
"It will, and this also." The Archimage broke one of the large leaves from the 
great trillium plant and held it out, pointing to its surface with her other hand. 
"This leaf bears the very impress of our land. Look closely! Its veins and ribs 
make a map of Ruwenda. Here at the tip is Noth, and the golden vein twisting 
down from it is the watercourse you must follow to locate your talisman. First 
down the Nothar, then down the Upper Mutar into the Lower." 
Anigel was studying the leaf with puzzled interest. "But the golden vein continues 
on to the very leaf-stem! Look — here is where the Mutar curves around the 
Citadel, and this marking must be Lake Wum, and beyond that is the Great Mutar 
that flows through the country of the Wyvilo and the savage Glismak!" Fear leapt 
into the girl's eyes. "Must I go there? To the dark Tassaleyo Forest?" 
"So it seems," the Archimage said. "I did not know myself until the leaf was 
plucked." She shook her head. "Such a long way to go! My poor little love… but 
it is all downstream, so you will travel more swiftly than you did before." 
"And the work I must do — " 

"Will be revealed." The old woman's face twisted momentarily with pain and she 
tottered as she stood. Immu, who had been standing back respectfully, darted 
forward and took hold of one of the White Lady's arms. Anigel took the other, and 
together they helped the Archimage into her cottage, seated her in a great 
cushioned chair, and brought her a cup of water. 
"Don't be concerned, my dears," the old woman said. "I shan't die on you yet. My 
work is not done. I am only very, very tired." 
Anigel hesitated, then opened her belt-wallet and took out the small scarlet gourd 
of miton. "I was given this by the Uisgu. It is said to bestow strength and courage 
— " 
"The gift was for you," Binah said wearily. "Keep it, but use it only when it 
becomes necessary." 
"When will that be?" Anigel asked. But Binah's eyes had closed, and her head had 
sunk onto her breast, and she breathed slowly and noisily. 
"Can you at least tell me where my talisman can be found?" Anigel pleaded. 
"At… the end of the stem." The voice was barely audible. 
"But you haven't told me what the talisman is!" Anigel cried in desperation. 
The Archimage sighed. 
"Please!" The girl was almost in tears. "Only tell me what it is that I seek!" 
"The Three-Headed Monster," Binah whispered. And then she was sound asleep. 
Chapter Sixteen 
The Green Voice paused at the door of the royal bedchamber, and with an 
apologetic grimace opened the pouch at his belt. He took out three curiously 

wrought masks designed to cover the lower face — two colored green and blue for 
himself and his colleague, and one more ornate and colored silver-and-black for 
his master. 
"We should don these before presenting ourselves to King Voltrik," the Green 
Voice explained. "The necrosis of the royal flesh has progressed to such a point 
that the stench exceeds that of the foulest cesspit, so that strong men puke and 
weaklings may faint dead away. Aromatic herbs I have packed within the masks 
will grant us surcease from the noxious exhalations for a half-hour or so. Will this 
be sufficient for your purposes, Great Lord? " 
Orogastus nodded. His eyes were steely above the mask, and if he dreaded the 
crucial task that lay ahead of him he gave no signal that his telepathic minions 
could perceive. 
The royal physician — drunken, sobbing, and fearful of losing his head — had 
reluctantly delivered his diagnosis to the Green Voice while the sorcerer and his 
party were still half a day up-river from the Citadel: In spite of the administration 
of the magical Golden Pastille, the mortification of Voltrik's hand had progressed 
to a point where the King was clearly in danger of dying, and the physician had 
lacked the courage to undertake the only treatment that might save him. 
When this dire news was transmitted to Orogastus, he had had the oarsmen 
flogged, speeding the boat home in five hours, at the cost of half a dozen human 
lives. Now the sorcerer himself must needs try to deliver the King, whose death 
would mean the ruin of all his ambitions. 
"Open the door," Orogastus commanded. 
The Green Voice bowed and complied. 
The bedchamber that had once been tenanted by King Krain had been hastily 
refurbished in Labornoki crimson for its new occupant. It was now very dark, the 
only illumination coming from the glowing coals in the fireplace and a single 
candle on a table, which also held a basin, wound-wrappings, and other medical 
implements and potions with which the royal physician had futilely attempted to 
treat the King's infected hand. The huge bed stood in the center of the room on a 

platform, surrounded by empty chairs. Its hangings were drawn back. 
Orogastus gave swift orders in a low voice. "Green Voice, bring the two standing 
candelabra close to the bed and light them, then clear the table and position it at 
the bedside nearest the King's infirmity. BlueVoice, prepare the magical device. I 
think we have barely arrived in, time. 
A form stirred within the sheets, groaning, "Who is there? Is it you again, damned 
leech, come to torment me with your incompetent fumbling? Get out! Let me at 
least die in peace!" 
"It is I, my King," Orogastus said. "And you shall not die." He lifted the King's 
left arm most carefully, but still the monarch uttered an agonized scream. 
"Whoreson! Let me be! Your miraculous pill helped me for but a single day, and 
then my sufferings grew worse than before. Ah, Zoto have mercy—it is their 
doing! The Princesses! They have cursed me from afar! It is their revenge that 
tortures and dooms me." 
"He is delirious," Orogastus said. From a pocket deep within his robe he took a 
small box carved from green malachite and opened it. It held six tiny spheres that 
shone golden and transparent in the candle light. 
"Only half the original number left," the sorcerer mused. He extracted one and 
carefully put the others away. Then he took up a goblet of water and prevailed 
upon King Voltrik to swallow the Golden Pastille. When he had done so, the 
monarch uttered a gusty exhalation and seemed to relax. 
Orogastus now slit the voluminous bandages about the King's hand with a small 
sharp knife. Positioning the extended arm on the table, he unwrapped it, exposing 
the wound. The entire limb felt hot to the touch, and streaks of red extended from 
the wrist to the armpit. The hand itself was hideously swollen, with the finger-tips 
bluish-black, and the flesh sloughing away in the area of the bite and exuding a 
towering stench that not even the herbal masks could inhibit. The sorcerer gave 
the Blue Voice the bandages to be burnt and spoke swift instructions to his other 
assistant, who had unpacked a leather bag and laid its contents on the table. Now 
Orogastus gave the limb over to the Green Voice and stood close to the King's 

head. Voltrik was gaunt, flushed, and rheumy-eyed, his once immaculate beard 
straggling and filth-clotted. 
"What are you doing?" the monarch cried, starting up from the damp pillows. "Let 
loose my arm, you treasonous worrams! I know who you are! You've been sent by 
the three Ruwendian witches to finish me off!" 
"Look into my eyes," Orogastus commanded. "Look and find respite from your 
suffering." The masked enchanter took the King's sweat-drenched head in both 
hands and turned it so that their two gazes commingled. Voltrik moaned, then 
gave vent to a great sigh and fell back onto the bedclothes, bereft of 
consciousness. 
Orogastus returned to the table and took up a singular device. It was cubical 
except for a snoutlike protrusion on one side, and colored a shimmering silvery 
blue. On its top were ranks of black and red wart-like excrescences with 
mysterious symbols beneath them, and an inset miniature frame with grey 
blankness instead of a picture. When the sorcerer's fingers moved over the warts, 
pressing now this one and now that, the blankness within the little frame turned 
bright, and moving lines of colored hieroglyphics appeared on it. The attending 
Voice gasped in awe. One of the red warts glowed, then turned gold. 
"Hold the arm perfectly still, thus," Orogastus commanded. "Sing the Chant of 
Healing but avert your eyes, for this machine of the Vanished Ones can blind a 
man who looks unprotected upon its work. 
The sorcerer positioned the device a handspan below the elbow of the wounded 
arm as the three Voices began to chant in unison. Then he took up a strange visor 
and put it on, and all being in readiness, he pressed the largest of the machine's 
warts. A dazzling beam of blue-white light no thicker than a flaxen thread sprang 
forth from the pro-trading nozzle, and Orogastus manipulated the device slowly so 
that the ray transected the royal limb, moving in a deep V-shape. 
There was a sharp sizzling sound and a great puff of smoke. When the beam 
winked out, Voltrik's lower arm was severed and there was a narrow charred 
groove in a corresponding V-shape burned into the wooden tabletop. The Chant of 
Healing came to an end. 

"It is done." Orogastus removed the visor and inspected the stump. The large 
blood vessels were cauterized, but the flesh was red and glistening surrounding 
the two white bones within. 
"Good. The mortal putrefaction had not reached into the arm itself. Now the 
Golden Pastille may wreak its healing without having to contend against a 
reservoir of deadly poison within the doomed hand." 
He pressed a wart and all of the glowing areas on the device went dark. "Blue 
Voice, wrap the dead member and burn it, taking care lest it befoul you. Then 
repack my device most carefully. Green Voice, wipe well the table and the 
undamaged skin of the arm with strong brandy-spirit. Sponge also the King's 
forehead and temples, and bring fresh linen and a clean bedrobe for him from the 
press over yonder. Scorch new bandages at the fire and then rewrap the stump 
loosely. It must still purge itself of certain noxious fluids before it is sewn. Later I 
will give you and that cretinous physician further instructions concerning care of 
the stump that are to be followed scrupulously." 
"The leech is to be spared, Great Lord?" Green was mildly surprised. 
"Unless you wish to spoon gruel, change dressings, and empty the royal chamberpot 
yourself, fool! Now attend to the King." 
While the two Voices ministered to Voltrik, Orogastus went to the double window 
of the bedchamber, threw back the heavy red curtain, and opened the casement 
wide. Outside the sun shone brightly and there was a light breeze from the north. 
With the rotten flesh consigned to the flames and the stink finally abated, 
Orogastus took off his mask. His handsome features were pinched and pale and 
his lips tight-pressed to a grim line. It had been a near thing, but the King would 
recover rapidly now with careful nursing and appropriate reassurances. Once 
again the sorcerer approached the royal bedside. 
"Voltrik —hear me!" Orogastus spoke in a low, compelling tone. 
The King murmured, "I hear you." 

"You have hovered at the threshold of death, my Liege, but I saved you when all 
others had despaired. You will live. There will yet be some suffering to be 
endured, but within a few weeks you will be strong again. I, Orogastus, pledge 
this most solemnly." 
"Thank you," whispered the King. His eyes were closed and his hectic flush had 
receded. "You have removed the hand?" 
"Yes, Sire." 
The King sighed. "So be it. At least it is not the sword hand lost, thanks be to Zoto 
the Compassionate — and you." He groaned a little as the Voices enrobed him in 
a clean garment and put fresh pillows beneath his head and the newly bandaged 
arm. The sorcerer himself drew up the coverlet over the royal breast, whereupon 
the King opened his eyes and spoke in a voice that was weak but nearly normal in 
timbre. 
"Send your servants away. I wish to speak to you of vital matters." 
Orogastus addressed his underlings: "I will leave for my tower on Mount Brom 
within the hour. See to it that my escort is heavily armed and mounted upon the 
swiftest and strongest fronials." 
"Yes, Almighty Master." The Voices went out and closed the door. 
"You are leaving?…" The King was dismayed. 
"My Voices will see that you are well cared for. I must go back to Labornok in 
order to consult the ice-mirror at my mountain stronghold. Only through this 
powerful device will I be able to spy out the whereabouts of your enemies." 
The King sighed gustily. "That it was I wished to speak of. There was no news of 
the three fugitive girls in Trevista?" 
"None. The female leader of the aborigines refused point-blank to cooperate with 
any search. If we attempt to coerce the swamp Folk in this matter, she says that all 

trade between them and us will be abolished." 
The King cursed painfully. "We must find those Princesses!" 
"My acolytes and I exerted our occult powers to the utmost, scanning not only the 
Oddling city, but also the farthest reaches of Ruwenda. Our efforts were in vain. 
Some powerful enchantment balks my Sight, even when it is amplified by mental 
conjunction. The three Princesses are said to wear amulets containing buds of the 
Black Trillium. Perhaps these shield them. This herb is linked to Binah, the 
guardian witch of Ruwenda, and it is likely that she has channeled all of her 
remaining meager potency through it to defend her wards." 
"Your mirror will be able to squelch this—this obfuscation?" 
"Beyond a doubt. It is empowered by the magic of the Vanished Ones. No 
enchantment in the known world can confute its farseeing eye. It can see for five 
thousand leagues —to the very western boundary of the continent, where the 
feathered barbarians dwell. Have no fear, my King. I will locate the Princesses, no 
matter where they have hidden." 
"So you track the she-devils down. What then? They could skip away long before 
you returned to Ruwenda to give chase." 
Orogastus laughed. "My King, leave it all to me. The Red Voice has remained in 
Trevista, awaiting orders with the garrison troops. When I have found the girls, I 
will bespeak their hiding places to each of my assistants and we will send out 
search parties at once. The Voices will guide them, and I will constantly transmit 
news of the Princesses' movements until at last your enemies are taken and dealt 
with as they deserve." 
"Good. Good." The King was silent for a few moments. Then he said: "The girls 
really did cause my wound to mortify, didn't they?" 
"Such things can happen because of magic, but also from the normal course of 
events. At any rate, Sire, you will soon be well. Unfortunately, the malady you 
suffered is one that cannot be cured except by the most drastic intervention." 

The King had closed his eyes again. A wry smile played about his discolored lips. 
"But you intervened in time. And so my dear son Antar will have to content 
himself without the crown that was so nearly within his grasp." 
The sorcerer's voice was neutral. "The Crown Prince comported himself with 
dignity and honor in Trevista and sends his prayers for your recovery." 
"Hmmph! Your Green Voice passed on his brothers' vision of Antar's meeting 
with the Oddling Discerner. The damned boy caved in before her like a wedding 
cake in a monsoon!" The royal eyelids flicked open. "What do you think, 
sorcerer? Is my son loyal?" 
"We will find out, my King. Since Prince Antar will certainly captain one of the 
search-parties we send in pursuit of the three Princesses." 
Chapter Seventeen 
Haramis awoke the next morning with the sun in her eyes and the knowledge that 
something was very wrong. It took her a moment to gather her wits enough to 
realize that what disturbed her was the silence. Uzun always rose before she did, 
so that she generally woke to the sounds of him moving around the camp, 
humming to himself. But now it was full day, the winds were still, the birds were 
silent, and there was no sound from Uzun, not so much as a snore. 
Haramis turned her head to look at her friend's sleep-sack, still nestled against the 
boulder where he had placed it the night before. Judging by its shape, he was still 
in it. Haramis pulled herself reluctantly out of her own sack, noting that the 
temperature was much lower than it had been the previous night, in spite of the 
bright sunlight. She squinted into the cloudless sky and belatedly realized that the 
pattern of clouds she had seen the day before had indicated the imminent arrival of 
a cold spell. 
Crawling over to where Uzun lay, she pulled back the top of his sleep-sack to 
uncover his face. It was perfectly still and expressionless, and Haramis was 
convinced she was looking at a corpse. 

"Lords of the Air," she whispered in horror. "I should have sent him back 
yesterday — no, days ago!" 
She grabbed the little Oddling by the shoulders and shook him violently. "Please, 
Uzun, wake up! Don't be dead! Please!" 
His body flopped loosely in her grasp, and what remained of the rational part of 
her mind remembered that bodies stiffened in death. Perhaps he was alive after 
all… 
She laid him down gently, pulled off her left mitten, and held her palm just above 
his mouth. It seemed forever before she felt his breath flow against her hand and 
even longer before the next breath. He was alive, but she had to get him 
someplace warmer, and that soon. 
She tucked his sleep-sack back around him, returned to her own, and pulled on her 
boots. Then she set her pack and walking-staff against the rock next to Uzun's 
sleep-sack, and cast another anxious glance at the sky. She was fairly certain it 
wasn't going to snow today, and with luck she'd be back here tonight. Her pack 
should remain undisturbed; there were no animals in this area likely to be attracted 
to it. 
She shouldered Uzun's pack, and picked him up, still bundled. Shaking as much 
snow as possible off the sleep-sack, she maneuvered him into her own. The extra 
layer of insulation might help, even if it was unwieldy to carry such a bulky 
bundle. Fortunately Uzun was not heavy, and the path was downhill. 
Haramis set off at the best pace she could manage, which was fairly quick, 
especially in the spots where she slipped and slid, clutching Uzun to her breast 
until she could dig in her heels enough to stop them. By mid-morning they were 
out of the snowfields, and by midday they were back at the place where they had 
camped the previous night. 
It was an alcove in the rocks, dry, sheltered from wind, and currently flooded with 
the noonday sun. Even the rock walls were warm to the touch. Haramis set Uzun 
down against the back wall and went to scavenge for firewood. He had been the 
one to gather wood when they had been here before, but she remembered in which 

direction he had looked and that it hadn't taken him long to find it. 
When she returned, she checked Uzun's condition again. He was still unconscious, 
but his breathing seemed to be a bit faster, which she took to be a good sign. She 
built the fire as close to him as she dared, heated some water, and made tea. Uzun 
was still asleep when the tea was ready; but the smell of it reminded her that she 
hadn't eaten or drunk anything that day, so she sipped some of it and ate a little of 
the food from Uzun's pack. He won't need as much on his trip south. He'll be in 
areas where food can be obtained. Then, feeling more alive herself, she took the 
bowl of tea over to Uzun, propped him up, and carefully dripped a small amount 
of it between his lips. 
To her immense relief, he roused slightly at the touch of warm liquid. "Gently, 
Uzun," she murmured. "Swallow." 
He did, and she coaxed him to take a few more mouthfuls before he feebly pushed 
it away, murmuring: "Too tired." 
"I'm tired, too," Haramis agreed, realizing that it was true. She was exhausted. She 
drank off the rest of the tea, leaned her back against the stone wall, and cradled 
Uzun in her lap. Perhaps keeping him close to her body would help; she was warmblooded 
and should radiate at least some heat. And the sun shining on her felt so 
good. She closed her eyes and tilted her face toward the light… 
"Princess!" The bundle in her lap was squirming frantically. "What are we doing 
sitting here? Surely the seed hasn't stopped us this early…" Uzun's head whipped 
back and forth as its owner tried to orient himself. "Where are we? What 
happened?" 
Haramis shook her head, struggling to clear her thoughts. She almost never slept 
during the daytime — certainly never when she wasn't sick — and she felt groggy, 
as if she had been drugged or poisoned. "Tea," she muttered. "I need tea." Her 
hand fumbled at her side and found the bowl, and she started to push herself to her 
feet. 
Uzun wriggled out of the two sleep-sacks. "I'll get it." He took the bowl from her, 
added more wood to the fire, and put more water on to boil. To Haramis's sleepy 

eyes, he appeared completely recovered. Could Oddlings be frozen then, and 
thawed out again with no ill effects? It seemed incredible. But at least Uzun 
should be able to return alone now. 
He brought her the tea, and she sipped it slowly, feeling her disordered wits start 
to fall back into place. She drank half the bowl, then handed the rest to Uzun to 
finish. 
"Uzun," she began, eager to share with him the insight she had achieved during 
her overburdened trek down the mountain, "I really believe that we have spent too 
much of our lives in the library and the music room. We've been acting like a 
couple of idiot heroes on a quest — as if we were destined to succeed and 
therefore had no need to use our brains and common sense. The White Lady said I 
would have to part with you before I finished my quest, but she certainly never 
said that I should do so by dragging you into cold weather your body couldn't 
handle and allowing you to freeze to death." 
The Oddling looked at their surroundings carefully. "I know this place. But this 
isn't where we stopped last night, is it?" 
"No, it's not," Haramis replied. "This is our camp of two nights ago. I woke up 
this morning to find you frozen almost to death — in fact, I thought at first that 
you were dead! Your skin was as cold as the air, and your breathing was so slow it 
took me quite a while to be sure you were still alive." She shuddered at the 
memory. "So I bundled you up in both our sleep-sacks and carried you back down 
here in the hope that you would thaw out and survive." She drew a deep breath. 
"Thank the Triune God, it worked. You are all right, aren't you?" she added 
anxiously. 
Uzun appeared a bit shaken by her account, but after a moment's thought he 
nodded. "I feel well enough," he said. "I'm still a bit chilly, but it's nothing serious. 
I'll be well enough to go on later." 
"Good," Haramis said. "Now that you are out of the snowfields, you should be 
able to return to Trevista on your own, while I continue my journey." She 
rummaged in his pack for the fishing gear. "For now, just get back in the sleepsacks 
and rest. I'm going to see if I can catch a fish or two for supper. If I can get 

enough, we'll both have food for tomorrow as well." 
"But, my Princess," Uzun protested, "you will lose at least two days of travel time. 
And you may run out of seeds to guide you." 
"The two days are already lost, old friend," Haramis sighed; "even if I started back 
up immediately, I would not be able to reach last night's campsite until nearly 
dawn — assuming I could move at the same pace by moonlight as by daylight, 
which I very much doubt. But I won't need another seed for tomorrow —I was 
careful to notice landmarks as I came downhill, so that I can retrace my steps 
unaided. And it doesn't look as though it will snow tonight, which means that I 
will have my old tracks to follow. So don't worry about me, just stay by the fire 
and rest. By the Triune God, Uzun, you nearly died!" 
"Do you think I would not rejoice to die in your service?" Uzun asked in offended 
tones. 
"I am quite sure you won´t," Haramis snapped crossly. "That's precisely what I 
mean about having our heads echoing with old ballads. I assure you that when one 
is slogging through the snow carrying a childhood friend who may very well die 
because you were too stupid to notice he was getting sick from the cold, one's 
thoughts are not occupied in finding rhyming couplets for a song of his heroic 
death. I was stupid not to notice how sick you were getting, and you were stupid 
not to tell me. Your freezing to death wouldn't help Ruwenda in the slightest, and 
would have left me distracted with grief and guilt. The loss of two days' travel is a 
small price to pay for your life. Maybe," she continued thoughtfully, "maybe a 
queen does sometimes have to sacrifice the life of one of her people, but by the 
Lords of the Air, if I have to do that, I'm going to have a good reason!" 
"Would you deny me the chance to be faithful unto death?" Uzun's voice was hurt. 
"Not at all," Haramis assured him. "I simply do not feel that now is the appropriate 
time for you to die in my service. After all, if you die now, who is going to be my 
chief musician when I have my throne back — and who will teach my children to 
play the fipple flute?" 
Uzun's face brightened considerably at that. "Very well, my Princess, it shall be as 

you desire. I shall return to my homeland and await your return to the throne and 
my return to your service." 
"I, too, look forward to that day," Haramis said smiling as she tucked the second 
sleep-sack more tightly around him. "Sleep now, my friend." Uzun's eyelids 
fluttered closed, and Haramis moved her hand over his forehead. His skin was 
definitely warmer now; he was going to be all right. Blinking back tears of relief, 
she went to the river in search of fish. 
"Princess, wake up!" Uzun was shaking her shoulder urgently. "There will be 
snow today, so you need to get started as soon as possible." 
Haramis opened her eyes. Sure enough, the sky was obscured by heavy pewtergrey 
clouds obviously just waiting for the right moment to start dumping snow all 
over the landscape. She groaned, dragging herself to a sitting position. She was 
still tired from her exertions of the previous day. Carrying Uzun had required 
muscles she had not been using before. Now her arms ached down their entire 
inner length. 
Uzun bustled about the fire, preparing tea, and brought it to her. "Princess," he 
asked, looking about them, "where is your backpack?" 
Haramis hastily drank her portion of tea. "I left it at the campsite yesterday — I 
had best get back up there to retrieve it before it gets buried!" She got up, hastily 
rolled up her sleep-sack, and tied it around her waist. "And you had better get out 
of here quickly, too, Uzun; you don't want to be caught in the snow!" 
"Very true," Uzun agreed, shoving a large chunk of journey bread into her hand. 
"Eat this on your way, and may the Lords of the Air go with you." 
"And with you, my friend." Haramis hugged her old friend tightly, reluctant to 
part with him, then released him and started up the path. At least I don't have to 
keep watching a floating seed, so I can pay more attention to where I'm putting my 
feet, she thought. Now if the snow would stop… 
She went up the mountain at a good speed, since she was more lightly burdened 
than the last time she had made this climb and knew exactly where she was going. 

By the time the snow started falling she had already gone halfway; and when she 
reached the rock where she and Uzun had camped two nights before, her pack was 
buried under only a handspan of snow. 
She dug it out, ate some more journey bread, and hollowed out a sleeping space in 
the lee of the rock. It was getting very dark, but with the snow falling she did not 
think she could keep a fire lit, so she crawled into her sleep-sack, pulling her pack 
in with her, and waited for sleep to come. 
But her nerves, which had been shouting hurry, hurry, hurry at her all day, were 
not so easily quieted. Haramis had never felt so bereft and alone in her life, and 
she suddenly realized that this was the first time she ever had been alone. Before 
the invasion, she had always had her parents, her sisters, Uzun, and the rest of the 
inhabitants of the Citadel. Since then Uzun had been with her, except for the hours 
she had spent with the Archimage. And while at times during her life at home she 
had wished for more privacy, now that she had all the privacy anyone could 
possibly desire she wasn't at all sure she liked it. 
In addition to her loneliness, there were other things troubling her. Chief among 
these was Uzun. She prayed to the Lords of the Air that he would make his way 
safely out of the mountains, but now that she had time to think about the situation 
and nothing else to do but think, several questions occurred to her. Why had Uzun 
not told her he couldn't go on before he nearly froze to death? Why hadn't the 
Arch-image warned her to leave Uzun behind before she entered the snow-fields, 
instead of simply saying that the elderly musician would be leaving her before she 
found her talisman? For all the help either of them had been, Uzun might have 
died! 
Of course, the fault lay as much with her as with them; her judgment had been 
equally bad, but they were older. Shouldn't they have known better than she? 
I am Queen of Ruwenda, she thought soberly, and the responsibility is mine, but I 
still need counsel I can trust—and how much can I trust either of them? Uzun 
doesn't seem any more aware of his limitations than Kadiya is of hers, or if he is, 
he won't admit them without a struggle. As for the Archimage, did she not realize 
how susceptible Uzun would be to cold, or did she merely not think him important 
enough to worry about? 

Even her beloved parents, she belatedly realized, had hardly been masters of 
worldly wisdom and diplomacy. Labornok's covetous interest in Ruwenda had 
been well-known in the Ruwendian court; and while Haramis certainly did not 
want to marry Voltrik, her parents could at least have pretended to negotiate, or 
expressed concern about the great discrepancy in age between Haramis and 
Voltrik and suggested a union with Voltrik's son instead. What was his name? Oh 
yes, Prince Antar. And if Ruwenda wanted an alliance with Var, an idea which 
certainly had merit, Haramis was not the only royal daughter. Haramis had trouble 
visualizing Kadiya as anyone's wife, but Anigel would make a splendid bride for a 
diplomatic alliance. She was so gentle and yielding that she could get along with 
anyone. And if I can think of all this off the top of my head, Haramis thought, what 
were my parents and their advisers doing? Trusting in the White Lady? 
Obviously, she decided, it is necessary to consider people's capabilities as well as 
their intentions when one takes counsel of them or depends on them for aid. So 
who, if anyone, remained who could help her now? Still pondering that question, 
Haramis fell asleep. 
Chapter Eighteen 
Princess Anigel had nearly swooned when the White Lady revealed the nature of 
the talisman she must seek. A Three Headed Monster! Such a prospect would 
have daunted even bold Kadiya or the confident Haramis. That she should be 
expected to find and subdue such a thing was laughable. No, impossible! 
She said as much to Immu, speaking through a storm of furious weeping (for the 
Archimage had fallen asleep and could not be wakened), but the Nyssomu woman 
only counseled patience. 
"There are many kinds of monsters," Immu said, "and not all are like the Skritek, 
with glowing eyes and rending fangs and claws, for the word has many meanings. 
Until you behold your monstrous talisman with your own eyes, Princess, you had 
better reserve judgment upon whether or not to be afraid of it." 
Immu's good sense gave the Princess a certain grim comfort. Since the White 
Lady slept on oblivious, the two guests made themselves at home in her cottage, 
refreshing themselves, cooking a fine dinner from the well-stocked larder, and 

finally going to sleep on the floor in front of the fire, one on either side of the 
Lady's chair, in case she should need help during the night. 
In the morning, the Archimage was gone. 
So was the cottage, the neat yard with the lawn-clipping togars, the Black Trillium 
plant and the little orchard, even the flight of stone steps and the dock where they 
had landed. 
Anigel and Immu lay in their plant-down sacks on a jungle slope beneath the huge 
leaves of a bruddok, the plant called by the Nyssomu the "traveler's friend" 
because of its sheltering foliage and sweet, juicy fruit. The only indication that 
they were not in the midst of a wilderness was a glimpse of the ruins of Noth, 
visible behind the trees across the river from the little lagoon, on the shore of 
which the cottage had once stood. 
Anigel broke into exclamations of dismay and wept at the shocking discovery. For 
a moment she even wondered whether their meeting with the Archimage 
yesterday had all been a dream. But then she found beneath her sleep-sack a large 
green leaf with a golden vein tracing a winding path from tip to stem; and Immu, 
investigating down near the edge of the water, gave a sudden cry: 
"Look look look! The White Lady left us a present!" 
Still sniffling, Anigel crawled from her covers and came to the lagoonside. There 
among the tall reeds and putrid yellow water-flowers was a boat. It was not a 
Uisgu craft made of reeds, such as had carried them to Noth, but the larger 
Nyssomu model carved from a kala trunk that commonly plied the waters around 
the Citadel. Only one thing was different about this boat —in addition to the usual 
sweeps and rowlocks (which were demounted and strapped to the inside of the 
hull) it had at the stem a stout fitting to which a pair of traces were snapped, and at 
the bow twin rings, through which two leather straps came and rested on the 
forward thwart. The lengths of leather led from the boat down into the murky 
water. 
Anigel studied this arrangement for a moment, wondering. "You don't suppose — 
" And then she gave a shriek as two large heads clothed in dapple-green fur rose 

out of the water, sleek and fierce, with big black eyes, bristling whiskers, and 
fanged mouths open in a hostile hiss. 
"Rimoriks!" said Immu. "Oh, dear…" 
"But —but there are no Uisgu to drive them," the Princess faltered. 
"And yet it seems that the Archimage intends for us to use this very efficient 
means of transport." 
Anigel bit her lip. She could not look Immu in the eye. "Do you think that you 
could manage?" 
"No, Princess Anigel," the Oddling woman said, solemnly. "The beasts work only 
in friendship, with those who drink the sacred miton." 
Trembling, Anigel turned to the two water-creatures. "Did the Archimage send 
you to help us?" she asked them. 
The only response was a vicious hiss. The rimoriks surged up and down in the 
water impatiently, revealing the harness that attached them to the boat, which 
rocked wildly in the waves they made and tugged at the mooring line that had 
been tied to a rock on the shore. 
Anigel closed her eyes. "Immu, can you not drink the miton?" 
"No, child." The old nurse's voice was gentle. "It was a gift to you from the 
Uisgu… and now we know why." Leaving the girl standing there, Immu went 
back up the slope and gathered their things, together with some of the bruddok 
fruit to eke out the trail rations that would be their breakfast. When she returned 
she put the packs into the boat and held out the scarlet miton gourd to the 
Princess. 
Anigel took it. Her eyes were glazed and her cheeks still damp with tears. She 
removed the stopper and lifted the small netted container so that the rimoriks 
could see it. "I must drink — is that it?" 

The great water-beasts closed their mouths and sank back into the lagoon so that 
only their noses and dark suspicious eyes were above the waves. They watched 
Anigel, motionless. 
One of her hands groped for the trillium amulet. The other lifted the blood-drink 
to her pale lips. She took a small sip — 
You see, Brother, how the human female fears you. 
She fears the miton even more, and yet she has drunk of it. Human! Do you hear 
us? Do you wish to be our friend? 
"Yes," whispered Anigel. 
Then dip two fingers into the miton, wade into the water, and share the drink with 
us. 
Dazed, she obeyed, tucking her grass robe up into her belt. The warm mud of the 
lagoon bottom oozed up between her bare toes as she walked out to where the 
water reached her knees. She extended her hand with brownish liquid dripping 
from the fingers. 
The two great green-spotted animals glided up to her, resting on their forelimbs in 
the shallows and opening wide their glittering jaws. Whiplike tongues with 
pointed ends uncoiled, organs that could pierce the scaled bodies of fish as easily 
as a javelin. Anigel seemed to see herself from afar, as though she were a 
spectator at a fantastic drama, and the girl in the water and the rimoriks were mere 
play-actors. First one finger, then the other touched the terrible tongues. And as 
the rimoriks swallowed their faces seemed to change, radiating kindness instead of 
savagery, and she no longer feared them. 
Anigel restoppered the gourd and put it into her belt-wallet, where the Black 
Trillium leaf also lay safe. She felt dizzy. The colors of the marshland foliage, of 
the algae-clothed lagoon water, even the carved wooden surfaces of the boat 
seemed sharpened and more vivid. She smelled subtle scents that had gone 

unnoticed before, and heard such a multitude of strange and overamplified sounds 
that for a moment there was pain in her ears. Her very skin seemed to crawl, 
shrinking from the light touch of the breeze and the suddenly scratchy and 
oppressive feel of her garments. Her submerged legs, on the other hand, felt 
caressed by the currents of the water, and the mud was velvety and soothing 
against her feet. 
The miton will change you. 
The miton will make you apprehensive at first, burdening your feeble human 
senses. But this malaise will pass. You will feel strong and brave, like us. 
"Yes… I feel better already." 
This is good. This meant that we can indeed be friends with a human. You will 
share your intelligence with us, and you will partake of our audacity and strength. 
"You call me intelligent. I have never thought of myself thus. But I will do my 
best to be so if you will only lend me bravery, for without it no amount of 
cleverness will enable me to fulfill my quest." 
The White Lady bade us help you. We will do what we can. 
"Do you have names?" 
You could not say them. Call us friends. 
"What—what do we do next?" 
In her mind, Anigel heard the two rimoriks laugh. But it was good old crotchety 
Immu who replied. 
"Do do do! And you are supposed to be the clever one — ? What a joke! The 
Tassaleyo Forest is over three hundred leagues away, and we cannot even begin 
your quest until we get there. Suppose you get into the punt, silly girl, and take up 

the reins, and get us started on our way!" 
The rimoriks seemed to know exactly what route to follow, taking their cue from 
Anigel's study of the Black Trillium leaf. They sped down the River Nothar with 
reckless abandon, since there was no chance that the Labornoki enemy was abroad 
on its waters. Of Anigel's sister Princess Kadiya there was no trace, neither could 
the rimoriks tell what had become of her. When the punt moved into the broader 
Upper Mutar, Anigel instructed the beasts to slow down and progress more 
stealthily, keeping close to the banks so that there was less chance of any enemy 
explorers spotting them. Sure enough, they saw half a dozen punts full of 
Labornoki scouts prowling about in the waters above Trevista. But the enemy 
went about its business without noticing them, even though one of the Labornoki 
boats passed less than twenty ells away. 
Each evening, they would find a safe stopping place. Anigel would unharness the 
beasts, standing in shallow water, and they would slip away to hunt. Some of the 
fish and other water-creatures that the rimoriks caught would be brought back and 
shared with their new friend, and in the morning the women would find a 
breakfast catch lying near the camp. But before Anigel could harness the rimoriks 
again, she would have to drink of the miton, then share it with the animals. 
On the fourth morning of the down-river journey, the Princess awoke in the 
hushed darkness before dawn, when the night-creatures fell silent at last and those 
who went about in daylight were not yet stirring. A heavy fog enveloped their tiny 
campsite on an islet on the outskirts of Trevista, and all the foliage dripped. It had 
been a stray drop of water, falling from the overturned punt that was their 
improvised shelter, that had awakened Anigel. 
Her sleep had again been free from dreams. 
She lay there in her down sleep sack, hearing only the irregular patter of the 
dripping dew and Immu's gentle snores, holding tight her warm amulet. No 
dreams of drought and fire. None since the night she and Immu had fallen asleep 
on the floor of the White lady's enchanted cottage. How strange that she had not 
noticed it before… 
Am I really cured of the cowardice? she asked herself. No, that could not be. She 

knew that she was still desperately afraid — afraid of being captured by the 
Labornoki soldiers and killed, afraid of the trackless Tassaleyo Forest and the 
fierce, unfamiliar aborigines inhabiting it, afraid most of all of the dreadful 
talisman she sought, the Three Headed Monster. 
And yet the nightmare was gone—the warning from her secret self. 
What did it mean? She thought of asking Immu, but the Oddling woman was 
sleeping soundly, murmuring sometimes in her own language, and the Princess 
had not the heart to wake her. Still wondering, Anigel drifted back to sleep. 
In the Lower Mutar there were many flatboats loaded with troops and supplies 
going up and down the river. It seemed as though the conquerors had 
commandeered the entire Ruwendian trade-fleet — for what purpose Anigel and 
Immu could not guess. They had a narrow escape one afternoon when, speeding 
around a bend, they met a Labornoki flatboat train dead ahead, coming at them on 
a collision course. Anigel clutched her amulet and tried to make them invisible, 
but the charm refused to work. Before she could panic, however, the rimoriks 
abruptly changed course, streaking off at a right angle and concealing them behind 
a great floating snag. The men of Labornok, half blinded by the westering sun, 
sailed heedlessly on. 
As the punt approached more populous regions above the Citadel, the Princess 
directed the rimoriks to swim through the most obscure side-channels and 
backwaters that they could find, to keep them out of the enemy's sight. Their good 
luck began to seem almost supernatural. They did not travel as fast as they had 
from Trevista to Noth, since they could not change animals as the Uisgu drivers 
Lebb and Tirebb had done; but they managed a good rate of speed nevertheless, 
and were spared from many a natural danger to boaters, such as the giant flesheating 
milingal-fish infesting the Blackmire section of the Lower Mutar, because 
of the formidable nature of the rimoriks. Most other water-creatures gave the big 
green-furred carnivores a wide berth. 
The first genuine disaster threatened on a day when they were encamped a few 
leagues above the Citadel, awaiting nightfall so as to pass the Knoll more safely in 
the dark. Anigel discovered that the red gourd of miton was empty. Its stopper had 
come loose, and the precious liquid had drained away. 

"This is awful!" the Princess cried. "That this should happen here, at the most 
dangerous part of the river, where the enemy soldiers are everywhere! Without the 
miton, the rimoriks will not even allow us to get into the boat. You recall the one 
morning when I forgot the ritual — they bared their teeth at me as though I were a 
perfect stranger! Oh, Immu, what are we going to do? If the rimoriks don't help 
us, we'll never be able to reach the Tassaleyo Forest." 
Immu said: "There is only one possible course of action. You must make more 
miton." 
"But how?" the girl fretted. And then her blue eyes went wide with the realization 
of what would have to be done. "But I can't do it!" she moaned. "Not even to 
myself—much less to them." 
"I can help draw your own blood," Immu said. "The process is not even painful, 
beyond the first prick. But you will have to cope with your fine sharp-toothed 
friends yourself. They would swallow me in one gulp if I came at them with my 
blade." 
After an interlude of squeamish hesitation, the Princess finally submitted. Immu 
took certain thick leaves and squeezed a juice from them, then pierced a vein on 
the girl's wrist with her sharp little dagger. Anigel made not a sound. The leafliquor, 
dripped upon the small wound, inhibited the blood's clotting and a concave 
drogo leaf was soon filled. When this was done and the Princess's blood poured 
into the gourd, Immu washed the puncture with pure dew-water and bound it up 
tightly after pressing a medicinal blue flower to it. 
"There!" The Oddling tied a neat knot to the wrist bandage of grass. "But how you 
will bleed the rimoriks, I have no idea." 
"I will ask them," Anigel said. And the creatures told her: 
Bring a duh-leaf into the boat. 
The great animals were unharnessed, paddling around the stern of the partially 
beached punt. When Anigel crawled into the end that was afloat, they drew near. 

One after the other, they reared up, nipped the edges of their beclawed front 
flippers, and let blood flow into the drogo leaf. When it was filled one of the 
rimoriks swam off and returned with a red-flowered swampherb, which it had 
ripped up roots and all. 
Grab a tuber of this plant and mix it with the blood. Thus is miton made. The 
swamp Folk customarily strain the liquid, but this is not really necessary. 
"Thank you, my friends," Anigel said. 
She followed their instructions, and when she had finished the gourd was full of 
the brown, salty-sweet-tasting sacred drink. The Princess was so used to it by now 
that she thought no ill of the drinking, and the subsequent heightening of her 
senses had begun to seem so normal to her that she did not feel that she was truly 
awake in the morning until she and the rimoriks had communed. 
Much later, during the night-shrouded small hours of the next day, when they had 
nearly completed the perilous skirting of the Citadel Knoll and were racing 
through a backwater bordering the Greenmire, 
Anigel thought to ask Immu whether or not the miton had changed her 
personality—as it was said to change that of the Nyssomu who drank it. 
Immu said: "You are the same dear person I have always loved — although 
perhaps more mature and worldly-wise from our travels, and much less dainty 
about your food, and not nearly so hoity-toity about where you lay your head at 
night or relieve your body's needs. You have also turned into a demon boat-driver. 
Whether your own people would count all this an improvement, I cannot say." 
Anigel spoke over her shoulder. "Since leaving Noth, I have not had the 
nightmares. Do you think this means I've grown brave, Immu?" 
"Either brave or madcap," the old woman said grouchily. She was holding on for 
dear life as the punt zipped in and out of a dense grove of kalas north of the Great 
Causeway. For once there was no night-mist, and the Triple Moons glimmered 
through the moss-hung branches. "Just look at you, Princess, gripping the reins 
like a veteran volumnial-skinner as we charge through the darkness faster than 

marauding Skritek! You have come a long way from the times when you thought 
yourself daring to attempt a new step on the dance floor or an unfamiliar 
embroidery stitch." 
"And yet I still feel fear, Immu." 
"Of course you do. So do I —for good reason! If you don't slow those wretched 
creatures down, we may end up wrapped around a tree with the night-warblers 
giggling over our broken bones." 
Anigel reined in the rimoriks a little. "They see in the dark. There is no real 
danger here. It lies not far ahead, though. I — I feel it." 
"That may be true." 
"Do you suppose my sisters also are searching for their own fearsome talismans?" 
"Probably." 
"The White Lady is cruel to separate us!" Anigel cried out suddenly. "We were 
born together. We have lived our whole lives together. It would have been so 
much easier if she had let us share our quests. Had let us help one another!" 
"No doubt," muttered the Nyssomu woman wearily. Her head drooped and her 
long ears lay blasted flat by the speed-wind against the dirty lawn of her old court 
headdress, which she persisted in wearing. "But you have not lacked for faithful 
servants." 
The Princess bit off the fresh complaint that hovered on her lips. She had been 
helped by many aborigines, to say nothing of the rimoriks. But her most constant 
helper and companion had been Immu herself— and how much true appreciation 
had Anigel shown her dear old nurse since they set out on this terrible journey? 
She had taken Immu for granted, never thinking of how frightened and weary the 
old woman must be. And now they had both been awake for that whole day and 
most of the night, Immu having refused the Princess's suggestion that she nap 
during the night travel. Anigel was still charged with energy and excitement, eager 

to continue on, and the rimoriks, sensing her urgency, were willing. But Immu 
was plainly exhausted… 
Find us a safe stopping place, she told the animals. 
Yes, friend, they said. And the punt slowed, turned aside, and glided through a 
thick curtain of night-flowering vines. Ahead was a high, dry hummock. As the 
boat scraped bottom, Immu snorted. Her head flew up and her eyes popped open. 
"Wake up, Immu," Anigel said softly. "It's bedtime." 
Chapter Nineteen 
They were being treated, Kadiya knew, as honored guests, and that portion of her 
which was rooted in patience, small though it was, told her that this was perhaps 
all she might expect. Still, on the second day after their arrival at the Nyssomu 
village, she made one last attempt to win fighting aid from those who hosted her. 
After all, it was not only her need to gather allies that mattered; these villagers 
should also prepare for the worst — the probable arrival of the Labornoki 
invaders. 
She asked for another meeting with the First of the House, striving to set a rein on 
her usual headlong demand for what she believed was necessary. 
"Lady," she schooled her voice into a low and level tone, "these humans who now 
come into your land are not as we Ruwendians. Let me tell you straightly of their 
deeds." 
Her hands, which had been lying loosely in her lap, suddenly clutched each other 
in a punishing grip. She had to swallow twice before she launched into the terrible 
account of her Father's death. At the picture her words summoned up she forced 
nausea to become anger. 
It was difficult to read subtle expression on any Oddling face. Kadiya watched 
very carefully for any sign that the First was moved by what she told baldly in all 
its horror. 

"Thus they treated our people they took after honest battle," she concluded. "Lady, 
they hold your people in even greater contempt — what do you think they would 
do here, were they to take your village? The Mires hold your secrets and have 
been your walls of defense. But these Labornoki bring with them a sorcerer 
against whose will the Archimage's protection could not stand. To fight with 
honest steel, sword to sword, is one thing. To strive against black magic with no 
proper weapon is to face defeat before the battlehorns sound. This is your land, 
and one wholly unknown to the invaders. They seem to have already aligned with 
the Skritek—whose evil nature they certainly share. But that can be countered by 
your knowledge of the swamp itself. I say to you — even if your customs do not 
allow you to take up our cause, look to your own!" 
The First sat for a moment in silence before she answered, and for that same 
moment Kadiya knew a faint stir of hope. Perhaps the sense of what she had told 
this Nyssomu woman would prevail after all. Let Hamil take Trevista; let him 
summon the Skritek; but if the Nyssomu arose and used the land itself as a 
weapon, surely there was a chance… 
But when the First of the House spoke, her words were formal, holding no 
warmth. "King's Daughter, it is true that your people and we of the Mires have 
dealt easily together through many years. There is no record of any such horrors 
between us as those you have told me. Since these slain are your kin, it is certainly 
true you will look for any help you can gather to avenge them. But friends though 
we be, there is for us an older service, an old allegiance that rests with the Lady of 
Noth. She has summoned you and your sisters. It can well be that she has already 
some plan of action. Be sure, however, that we are well warned. Before your 
people came hither the Mires knew war…" 
She was staring beyond Kadiya's shoulder as if she recognized there something of 
importance. "There was long ago a harvesting of lives beyond all accounting. 
How think you did this land become as it is: broken, in many parts, desolate, and 
filled with such perils that we have not ventured along certain paths for many 
hundreds? That war was not ours, but we were born of it—and when those who 
fought it were gone, we were newborns with a strange world before us which we 
had to make our own. Then we took oath that such a war would not come again 
through any of us Nyssomu. To the Lady of Noth we owe our lives. With her we 
have long kept peace. If we are attacked we fight, but we carry no war to others. 
You will find your answers at Noth, King's Daughter." 

So it was that only Kadiya and Jagun set forth again on their journey, and the 
farther they went the stranger and more threatening became the land. Most of the 
swamp growth in the Blackmire forest had been various shades of green, save for 
the flowers. Here in the Goldenmire grew the tall reed-grass with yellow panicles 
which gave its name to this section of the swamp. Here, too, there were islets 
rising from the green-scummed water on which there were clumps of large fleshyleaved 
plants, unlike any elsewhere. These were yellow-white with streaks of red 
across them. Seeming to hold the appearance of infected, unhealed wounds, they 
exuded a stench which appeared to attract insects. The farther Jagun and the 
Princess poled their way along, the more malignant became these outcroppings of 
vegetation. 
She heard a hiss of breath from Jagun and balanced herself in the punt while the 
hunter moved with care. Moving toward them along the shore of an islet came 
what seemed to be one of the unwholesome leaves. At the village, Jagun had 
added to his equipment a short-hafted spear. Now his arm swung out and the blade 
caught under the edge of the wandering leaf, flipping it up into the air and back to 
the muddy earth it had just left. As it arose the girl could see fringe-like feet 
moving, vainly hunting purchase. Then the creature slammed against a mossy 
piece of wood and instantly curled about it. 
"Snafi," Jagun said tersely. "We must watch for them here. Their clawed feet 
inject poison into the skin and once they have taken hold they cannot be pulled 
off." 
Kadiya was glad that on leaving the Nyssomu village Jagun had decided that they 
were far enough away from the known trail to travel by day. This part of the Mire 
must be a series of vicious traps of one kind or another. 
Against her breast the amulet lay warm and was a steadfast guide. According to its 
spark they were still bound in the right direction. Kadiya kept to the rhythm of the 
poles, fitting her swing to Jagun's for hour against hour, though they did halt at 
intervals to rest. 
If she faced danger, Kadiya thought, what had Haramis found to fight against? 
And Anigel… Had her younger sister been taken? Somehow she felt more and 
more strongly that both of her sisters had escaped from the Citadel, were not 

helpless prey for King Voltrik. 
The sky had steadily clouded over during the afternoon and it was near twilight 
when Jagun twisted a tough clump of grass to anchor their craft. Already those 
queer lights which were born of the swamp gases were visible. This evening, they 
did not try to disembark from the punt but ate rations they had brought with them. 
And then Jagun said: 
"Sleep." 
Sleep! How could anyone sleep here; in the dark, not knowing what menace might 
come from either shore? But in spite of herself she found that her eyes were 
closing… 
What followed seemed more vision than dream. Kadiya saw a city — not 
Trevista, but one far younger, its architecture lighter in spirit. However, no 
sentries walked its walls, nor passed through the open gate which appeared just 
before her. Was this Noth? She longed to enter it — it beckoned, called. It was a 
promise. 
Then the vision was lost in a deeper dream of which she remembered nothing on 
waking. She roused at dawn, to discover Jagun already astir, digging into one of 
their food bags. A short time later, they resumed their journey to the Archimage's 
home, and in early afternoon they caught their first glimpse of it. 
No such city as Kadiya had dreamt of rose before them as they approached their 
goal. They saw only a single monolithic tower, rising high above the goldenplumed 
grass. Kadiya stared up at it as Jagun negotiated the final twists of the 
waterway, and at length their boat grated, not against another mud bank, but on 
the edge of an area of stone blocks. 
"This is Noth," Jagun said. "From here, only you who have been summoned may 
go. I shall await you." 
The pavement was not much wider than the punt which had brought them here. 
Beyond stood the tower. It could have been carved from a single mountain-sized 

block of granite, as tall as one of the great royal trees of the southern forests. The 
huge door stood open. 
Although the light did not reach far within that cavernous doorway, there was 
nothing about the tower which outwardly threatened. Still, Kadiya felt like a child 
about to answer for some act of disobedience as she strode resolutely forward, 
refusing to betray her unease. 
"Welcome, Kadiya." 
The voice did not echo down that narrow hall, nor did it sound other than a usual 
greeting. Still, she walked on with one hand at knife hilt and the other pressed 
over the amulet, which throbbed warmly against her flesh in a heart-even beat. 
Then she entered the chamber beyond. 
There stood a high-backed chair of presence, such as her Mother and Father had 
used at times of ceremony. In it the Lady who ruled Noth (and perhaps elsewhere 
also) sat, her long-fingered hands smoothing back and forth across her knees the 
edge of a cloak which was the black of a stormy night, thick in its folds. Yet there 
ran across it runes of silver which came and went as do the ripples on a pool into 
which one casts a pebble or two. 
Judging by her size, she was certainly not of Oddling blood. In fact, standing she 
might have overtopped Kadiya by several hands' height. Her face was neither 
young nor old, removed from the touch of age, but her eyes showed both 
weariness and determined will. 
"Kadiya!" She inclined her head, but not in any warmth of welcome. 
The anger which Kadiya held within her nearly broke its bonds. She wanted to 
hurl both her ire and her hurt at this untouched stranger, to demand from her own 
lips why her magic had failed. Could she not have in some way restrained the 
enemies of Ruwenda? Was this proud Lady of Noth so much less than Orogastus? 
Her magic certainly had failed when it was needed the most! The girl was able 
only with effort to forbear voicing those harsh thoughts. Instead she inclined her 
head, streaked as it was with swamp grease. 

"Lady." 
She had no chance, she sensed, for either accusation or reproach. There was that 
here which held her emotionally prisoner, no less than her body would be had 
chains wrapped about her wrists at the entrance to the tower. 
"There comes an end to everything," the colorless voice continued. The near 
transparent hands had ceased their smoothing of the mantle. "Time is of our 
making, so it varies. What is the passing of a year to one of the mountains? What 
is sunrise to sunset for the draffer-fly, which lives for a single of our counted 
days? To each of us — plant, bird, insect, stone, proud man and woman — time 
brings an end. Thus, for those of us who still foresee a purpose, there is much to 
be done in what seems the narrowest of measures." 
For the first time her eyes no longer locked with Kadiya's but moved, as if she 
were looking about her in surprise, finding missing what should be there, or else 
seeing that which had no place. "I have held wardship here. Yes, here I have 
guarded that which is of the Light. Once there was a great spread of water, graced 
by islands, each of which was a gem of beauty. And there were those who dwelt 
there. By them" —her hands came together as if to suggest a roof of protection — 
"I was called upon for a great task, for evil came, and change, and I labored to 
raise strong wards." 
She sighed. "That time of trouble and sorrow passed. Then those you call 
Oddlings ventured out, and to them, though they were not of my people, I 
remained Guardian. Time became heavier and heavier, chipped away at what had 
been. Last of all arrived those of your blood. I searched their minds and hearts and 
found they were worthy of the Way of the Light and my day was not yet done…" 
"And then came Voltrik, who is of the pattern of the Skritek!" blazed Kadiya. 
"Where then was your Guardianship?" 
"There rose once more the Dark Powers," the Archimage corrected her. "Against 
such my kind must always contend. With these invaders was one well learned in 
the Oldest Lore." She bowed her head a fraction. "This time may be his. Only one 
defense could I raise when I foresaw the design. You are one of the three, and 
each of you holds a talent untrained, a gift unrecognized. It will be you who bring 

down the Dark Powers in the end — if you can pay the price of time." 
"And what price is that?" Kadiya's chin was high. She still fought against giving 
any outward sign that the Archimage might believe her to be overawed. 
"That you find your talisman… and use it in time." 
"Talisman?" Kadiya held out the amulet, though she did not take its chain from 
about her neck. "But this I have already — and from your own hand, Lady, if the 
story is true." 
"No, that has been but your guide hither. You must use your own strength — and 
wit — to find the talisman that will give you power. Steel has ever been your 
choice: that is direct and quick, but many times the most perilous route to success. 
There are other ways of winning battles." 
The Archimage arose from her throne, standing straight and tall. Her movements 
were not constrained by old age, but rather the determined ones of a person who 
has a task to do and would get it done. Kadiya found herself lagging a step behind, 
and lengthened stride so that they came out of the tower of Noth together. 
Now the Archimage threw back the folds of her cloak. In the light of day the 
silver rippled across the folds. She was holding a plant, though from where she 
had plucked it Kadiya could not guess. By the flower at its tip it was the fabled 
Black Trillium. Swiftly the Archimage broke the stem halfway down, three 
fingers' length above the hair-like filaments of the roots. 
"This now will be your guide — and with it you shall seek the Three-Lobed 
Burning Eye." 
She tossed the stem forward toward the water where the punt idled and Jagun lay 
as if asleep. Kadiya watched it fall straight, break water as might a well-aimed 
arrow. But what was a Three-Lobed Burning Eye? The Archimage must explain! 
Kadiya was tired of tracking through the Mires, following a magical gleam to the 
home of an incompetent enchantress. She needed more information if she were to 
pursue her quest… 

Kadiya suddenly stood alone on the pavement. There was no longer anyone beside 
her and she had a strong feeling that if she were to go storming back into the 
tower and search it from top to bottom, she would not find its mistress. 
Reluctantly and angrily she went to the punt. Jagun had roused and was sitting up, 
but Kadiya looked to the open water beyond. There she saw, among the murky 
ripples which the swaying of the craft had aroused, a filament of light. Green it 
was, but no shade of green that she had ever seen in the swamp: this was clearer, 
lighter, glistening like a gem, and yet the very forepoint of it was black, to be seen 
only in the light reflected by its length. When she got into the boat and reached for 
a pole that rod of green and sable moved. Not with the darting swiftness of 
something alive, but slowly, so that it would match the speed of their poling. 
Kadiya uttered a great sigh. "We have a new guide, Jagun, and a new quest. Let us 
be on our way." 
Chapter Twenty 
The mountain wind roared down the defile, already carrying a few sharp grains of 
sleet. The late afternoon sky still had areas of blue, although clouds had been 
massing all day in the south above the highest pinnacles of the Ohogans — Mount 
Brom, Mount Gidris, and Mount Rotolo. There would surely be a storm before 
night, one of the harbingers of the winter monsoons that were due in only two 
weeks. 
Orogastus was unspeakably weary after his eight-day journey from the Ruwenda 
Citadel. He had left his armed escort in the lowlands of Labornok and now, all 
alone, he approached his sanctum high on Mount Brom. Huddled deep within his 
fur cloak, he bespoke his weary mount and the two pack-fronials that trailed 
behind. 
Onward! Ahead is a warm barn, and rich madh to eat, and water to drink. See—I 
show it to you!… Follow the path! Climb strongly! We will catch Sight of it once 
this switchback rounds the outcropping yonder. There! There! Hurry! 
The three fronials lifted their heads, and the gilded tips of their antlers gleamed in 
the dying sunshine. Their nostrils flared, for thanks to the sorcerer's art they 

already smelled the food that awaited them in the stronghold at the head of the 
steep trail. 
A shining white tower with black crenelations and ornate black tracery about the 
windowframes was in sight now, tucked against a flank of Mount Brom. The 
revitalized animals broke into a trot and then into a rolling canter. With their leg 
tendons clicking and their tails high in anticipation they raced up the last few 
hundred ells and skidded to a stop, snorting and blowing, at the precipice that was 
the trail's end. Below yawned a sharp cleft in the mountainside nearly a league in 
depth and perhaps fifty ells wide, having a thundering glacier-fed torrent in its 
depths. The sorcerer's stronghold lay on the opposite side of the gulf, and seemed 
to be completely inaccessible. The sky was now completely overcast and it had 
become very cold. 
Orogastus took a small silver pipe from his belt-wallet and blew a high, thin note 
that was almost lost in the howling of the wind. At once the dark windows of the 
tower sprang alight, and light also shone from the opening door of the distant 
gatehouse. There was a rumbling sound. In the cliff wall directly beneath the gate 
a square opening appeared, and from it was extruded a narrow bridge with an 
underside most strangely framed, which thrust out as the rumbling continued and 
eventually closed the gap between the trail and the tower. 
Orogastus dismounted and blindfolded the three fronials. Then he led them on 
foot across the slender juncture, which had only a low railing and was scarcely a 
pace in width, while the rising wind tore at his fur mantle and caused the structure 
beneath his feet to tremble violently. A false step by the man or the animals would 
have sent them all tumbling to their deaths. But Orogastus exerted his magical 
powers to steady the bridge, and bespoke the fronials in reassurance. They 
followed him readily even when the first swirls of snow began to fly, and they all 
came safely into the gatehouse at last. The sorcerer then barred the door and 
pressed a device on the wall that caused the magical bridge to vanish back inside 
the mountain. 
Home! 
He threw off the heavy furs with a shout of relief. The fronials squealed and 
ramped a bit, and he laughed as he removed their blinders, unsaddled his mount, 
and took off the loads from the pack-animals. Then he led the faithful creatures 

down a corridor lighted by peculiar lamps that shone without flames, into a stable 
carved from living rock that was nevertheless dry and equipped with all things 
necessary for the comfort of the fronials. His grumbling as he fed and bedded 
them was good-humored. Normally such work would be done by his three 
dedicated acolytes; but they were back in Ruwenda Citadel, tending King Voltrik 
and awaiting his orders, and so the Master would have to cater both for the beasts 
and for himself. He knew how to manage the homely duties full well, for the three 
Voices had been recruited only ten years since. Before that Orogastus had 
tenanted this elaborate lair, built on his direction by Voltrik's craftsmen, all alone. 
Now, as he climbed the winding stone stairway to his apartments in mid-tower, he 
felt glad that no others were here. The past ten weeks had been the most arduous 
and stressful of his life —first with the old King's death and Voltrik's accession, 
then with the preparations for the invasion and the march into Ruwenda. The 
victory itself had been paradoxically easy; only the freakish wounding of King 
Voltrik and the escape of the three Princesses had marred the sorcerer's grand 
scheme. 
Well, the Voices had assured him that Voltrik was on the mend at last, and if all 
went well, the girls' hiding places would shortly be secret no longer. He would 
take care of that business immediately, postponing his own human needs until he 
had consulted the ice-mirror. 
He came into his rooms and left the bundles of supplies near the hearth of the 
dining-chamber, pausing only long enough to light the pre-laid fire with his 
magical sparker. Then he hurried into his bedroom to change from his soiled 
traveling garb into the silver-and-black vestments and headgear that he wore for 
the most solemn incantations. 
He did not want to take the time to bathe, but he sponged off the worst of the 
grime and begged pardon of the Dark Powers—then chuckled as the thought 
struck him that They might actually prefer him to commune with them in a grimy 
state. The fine metallic mesh of the ceremonial robe was shockingly cold upon his 
bare skin, and he winced while donning it and forgot to say the appropriate 
prayers. His silver-glace leather gauntlets and the dramatic star-burst headpiece 
with its half-mask were warmer, but he eschewed his usual ritual sandals and 
slipped his feet into fur-lined boots before heading for the tunnel that led deep into 
the mountain to the Cavern of Black Ice. 

His breath was visible in the cold, humid air of the rock tube. He walked briskly 
along the lamplit shaft, praying that the ice-mirror would grant him his boon 
promptly, without balking. One never knew with the marvelous devices of the 
Vanished Ones. Even if the proper rituals were observed and powerful enabling 
spells chanted, the magic could be capricious. But please —not tonight, when he 
was so weary and hungry and cold! 
He came to the massive door, frost-covered even in the warmest weather, braced 
himself, and uttered the first incantation. He asked pardon of the Vanished Ones 
for disturbing their ancient tranquillity, but admonished them sternly in the name 
of the Dark Powers to serve him. Then he opened the door. 
The Cavern of Black Ice was as always. As he had found it —summoned to it! 
—when he first arrived in Labornok with then Crown Prince Voltrik. (Only later 
had Orogastus commanded the stronghold to be built, to shield the Cavern and 
provide ready access to its wonders.) It was a large vaulted chamber hewn crudely 
from the quartz-veined granite of Mount Brom, having intrusions of black ice here 
and there in the walls. The floor was paved with strange black tiles like glossy 
obsidian, and the same material — itself closely resembling the ice — had been 
used to construct a myriad of inset niches and tiny rooms, all fitted with doors. In 
these he had originally found the fantastic devices that had seduced him from the 
more abstract magic he had learned from Bondanus, while paradoxically 
guaranteeing his influence over the Kingdom of Labornok. Many of the 
compartments were equipped with arcane locks that he had been unable to open. 
Others — including the room of the ice-mirror — had yielded their secrets 
willingly. 
He raised his silver-gloved hands and intoned aloud: "O Dark Powers! Once again 
I thank you for your great gifts. Let me use them without coming to harm." Then 
he slid open a narrow obsidian door and entered the mirror-room. 
It was only a few paces deep. Most of the inner wall was a lumpy mass of thick 
hoarfrost, which effectively hid whatever mysterious devices flanked the circular 
mirror itself. Trembling from cold and apprehension — for he knew that if the 
mirror refused to respond, his great scheme for world-dominion was very likely 
undone — he spoke the spell: 

"O mighty mirror of ice! Farseeing eye of the Vanished Ones! Awaken and 
respond to my request!" 
He waited. 
At first, the grey, glassy surface only reflected his own image: a tall robust man 
draped in fluid silver and black, crowned with a star-burst diadem and with a 
silver mask hiding his upper face. Then there was a dim glow within the mirror's 
heart… and a voice. It was faint, raspy like that of a dying man, and its accents 
were not human. 
"Responding. Request, please." 
Orogastus stood stark still. In spite of the fact that he was half-freezing, 
perspiration rolled down his forehead behind the silver mask and into his eyes. 
This was the most critical moment. If he posed the request incorrectly, the 
affronted mirror would wink out and remain dormant for at least two days while it 
"recovered" from the insult. Mentally, he offered a fresh prayer to the Dark 
Powers. Then he said in a neutral tone: "View three persons. Locate present 
position of the three persons on map." 
The mirror brightened. A maelstrom of silvery-blue shadow materialized in the 
center of its disk. It said: "Request validated. Names of three persons." 
"Princess Anigel of Ruwenda. Princess Kadiya of Ruwenda. Princess Haramis of 
Ruwenda." As he spoke, he was careful to form a mental picture of each girl. 
"Scanning," said the mirror. And Orogastus nearly fainted with relief. It was going 
to work — 
The mirror said: "Subject One: Princess Anigel of Ruwenda. Location: Sa 
fourteen two, Lo seventy-one ten on Grid Oma." It spoke the usual 
incomprehensible gibberish; but this was immediately followed by a beautiful 
map-diagram showing a blinking light on the Mutar River below the Citadel, just 
a few leagues above Lake Wum. 

Orogastus restrained himself heroically. A false word or movement could throw 
the mirror off irretrievably. The sorcerer concentrated upon memorizing the 
indicated location. A moment later the map winked out and the mirror showed 
instead a full-color portrait of the girl, all in motion as though she were alive 
inside the grey ice. Anigel was seated in the bow of a punt, holding two straps that 
appeared to be reins. The craft was being towed through water at a high rate of 
speed. Behind the Princess sat an Oddling woman, who glanced back over her 
shoulder at a red sunset and then said clearly: "We'd best put in for the night, 
sweeting. There should be plenty offish for the rimoriks in the lagoon over there." 
And then the picture disappeared. 
"Subject Two: Princess Kadiya of Ruwenda," said the mirror softly. "Location Mo 
twenty-nine four, Vi ninety-five five on Grid Oma." The blinking light placed the 
fugitive just west of the Skritek-infested jungle known as the Thorny Hell. 
Orogastus stifled an exclamation, then looked on in fascination as the mirror 
showed the second of the triplet girls kneeling on a mud bank in deep twilight, 
attempting to kindle a campfire of vine-bark, and in the background a single 
Oddling was taking something from a native boat. 
Kadiya said: "I've puffed till I'm blue, Jagun, but I can't get this perverse stuff to 
light. You'd better try." 
The picture disappeared. 
"Subject Three: Princess Haramis of Ruwenda. Location: Pa forty-two three, No 
sixteen eight on Grid Oma." The indicator light on the map blinked in a most 
extraordinary position — high on the slope of Mount Rotolo, the second-loftiest 
peak in the Ohogans, near the headwaters of the Vispar River and only a league or 
two away from the secret settlement of the Vispi Oddlings. 
The sorcerer held his breath as the final picture appeared on the mirror. It was 
very obscure, a purplish dusky scene that he finally recognized as a snow-cave 
interior overlooking the slope of a twilit glacier. A shadow detached itself from 
darkness and became the silhouette of a young woman wrapped in a white cloak, 
gazing outside. 

Haramis said: "Will I live through the night? They are out there, waiting for me 
—the Eyes in the Whirlwind —and the trillium seeds that led me to this place of 
icy death are all gone save one. It is the end. I have no more food and the snows 
are becoming so deep I can no longer proceed. Unless the Vispi themselves take 
pity on me and come to my rescue, I shall have failed in my quest for the Three- 
Winged Circle." 
The picture vanished. 
Then came the inevitable fateful words from the magical device: "Bahkup Power 
temporarily exhausted. Hiatus for recharge." And the ice-mirror's light and voice 
died. 
"Thanks be to all the Dark Powers—Ay see Lyne, Inturnal Bataree, and Bahkup," 
Orogastus intoned, making a deep obeisance, "and to the Great System operated 
thereby, forever and ever, so let it be." 
Then he withdrew, walking humbly backward, closed the obsidian door to the 
mirror-room, and fled to his own apartments. 
Much later, after he had eaten and soaked in the tub, Orogastus consulted the 
ancient Book, of Peninsular Prophecies while seated in front of the cheerful fire in 
his study, sipping a mellow brandy. Outside, a snowstorm howled among the 
tower battlements. 
The Three-Winged Circle… 
Yes, it was mentioned here, together with two other obscure symbols—the Three- 
Lobed Burning Eye and the Three-Headed Monster. The reference was unclear, 
but it seemed that the three were destined to come together, and thereby 
precipitate some climactic event. 
"Might it be," the sorcerer mused, "that the other two Princesses also seek their 
talismans, even as Haramis seeks hers? And having found them and become 
reunited, might the girls then be so potentialized as to overthrow Labornok?" 

He stared into the flames for some time before deciding what to do. The need to 
dispose of Kadiya and Anigel was straightforward enough; but Crown Princess 
Haramis was quite another matter… 
He straightened in his chair, closed his eyes, and placed his fingertips on his 
temples. "My Voices!" he intoned. "Hear me!" 
In his mind three shapes took form, blurs of red, blue, and green that assumed the 
aspect of his three hooded minions. They had no eyes but their expressions were 
full of eagerness. 
"Master! Have you succeeded?" 
"Yes. Be alert for the Sending! Here is the present position of Princess Anigel… 
and here is Kadiya." 
"We have received your Sending, Almighty Master. And the Princess Haramis?" 
"I have found her also. But listen! General Hamil is to set out with at least half of 
the army in pursuit of Kadiya, who has gone into a very dangerous region. The 
Red Voice is to meet and accompany Hamil, and consult with me every other day 
until she is taken." 
"I will obey," said the Red Voice. 
"The search for Princess Anigel," Orogastus continued, "is to be conducted by 
Prince Antar and his knightly cohort. The Blue Voice will accompany him." 
"The Prince and his party returned to the Citadel from Trevista four days ago," the 
Blue Voice said. "It should be easy for us to find Anigel if she is as close by as 
you say." 
"Nothing is easy where the Archimage Binah is concerned," Orogastus 
admonished him sharply. "Keep in mind that the girls are guarded by the last of 
her magic. And should they be successful in finding certain powerful new 

talismans called the Three-Lobed Burning Eye and the Three-Headed Monster, 
their magic will certainly be greatly enhanced. It is imperative that the Princesses 
be captured and killed, and the talismans be saved for me." 
"We understand," said the Voices. 
"There are further instructions for the Blue Voice," the sorcerer added, 
"concerning Prince Antar." 
"I believe I already know your mind, Master." Blue uttered a mirthless chuckle. "It 
would be sad if the Prince were to perish through misadventure after having done 
his duty." 
"There must be no hint of your involvement," Orogastus warned. 
The Green Voice then said: "And shall I join the force that will pursue the 
Princess Haramis, Master?" 
"No. You will remain with King Voltrik, taking care that he recovers fully, 
reassuring him when I transmit to you reports of progress." 
"But Haramis — " 
"I intend," Orogastus said, "to take care of the Princess Haramis myself." 
Chapter Twenty-One 
Haramis cast forth the final Black Trillium seed on a morning that saw the slopes 
of Mount Rotolo en-veloped in pearly mist. When she woke, it had seemed 
strangely warmer. The walls of the tiny cave where she had slept—surprisingly 
soundly—glistened with melting snow. Her fur-lined mantle, which she had 
wrapped around her sleep-sack, had been completely soaked, making it at least 
twice as heavy as usual and quite useless, since she had no way of drying it. Using 
her small knife, the Princess had then cut the water-repellent sleep-sack along one 
side and across the bottom, fashioning a kind of cape that was stiff but 
weatherproof. After a breakfast of cold water, she had freed the last seed and 

stumbled out of the cave to follow it through ankle-deep wet snow. 
It floated languidly, adjusting its flight to her slow steps, drifting not an arm's 
length before her. She could see nothing beyond that distance, so thick was the 
mist, and she tramped along leaning heavily upon her iron-shod stick. She realized 
dimly that she was becoming increasingly giddy from the thin air, but this did not 
seem important to her. Everything was far off and hazy. She hardly cared where 
she placed her feet, so long as the floating seed stayed within view. 
Many times she stumbled and fell, her white wool suit and boots and mittens 
becoming more and more sodden. Moisture crept into the exposed plant-down 
lining of her sack-cape as well, and before long it was achingly heavy. The next 
time Haramis fell, she left the thing behind. The air was now so warm that she did 
not need it. 
The seed. The winged seed. It was all she saw, all her fogged mind could 
concentrate upon. She went on and on, climbing ever higher. Sometimes the snow 
was knee-deep and sometimes more shallow; but it was always heavy and wet, 
clinging to her boots so that her legs seemed made of lead. 
It must have been three or four hours before the weather suffered an ominous 
change. Haramis was too dazed to take note of the fact that the mist had lost its 
pearly color and turned to an increasingly gloomy grey, nor did she notice as the 
air grew steadily chillier. Her hands and feet had lost all feeling, but this was as 
unimportant to her as the dull pain in her empty stomach. 
And then it began to snow. 
She halted, unable at first to realize what was happening. Seeds? Was the world 
alive with floating fluffy trillium seeds? And which was her own magical guide? 
That one — ? No… 
The mist was thinning as the snow increased and Haramis could see once again 
the rearing cliffs and crags of the mountain she climbed. The wind rose, blowing 
snowflakes into her face. She became aware of having lost her stick. The guiding 
seed? It was gone. 

Gone as all the others —but not at day's end, having first led her to a safe shelter, 
but here, near the crest of a knife-sharp rocky ridge that the wind had blasted clear 
of snowpack. The last Black Trillium seed, blown away; and so she came to the 
quest's end… 
Flying snow stung her face, brought tears to her unfocused eyes and caused her 
cheeks and nose to tingle, then grow numb. A mortal lethargy crept over her and it 
seemed that the most desirable thing in the world would be to sleep. Why struggle 
further? Each breath was a swordcut. Her heart thudded as though it would break 
her ribs. Her hands and feet were frozen. 
I will go to the top of the ridge, she told herself. Just twenty more steps. And there 
I will look out on my kingdom for the last time. 
The wind tried to foil her. Like some huge, resentful creature, it howled and 
pushed and seemed almost a wall forbidding further progress. She crouched, lifted 
one foot and then the other, thrust her body forward, leaned into the wind with all 
her fading strength. 
Father! Mother! Soon I come to you, having failed. I wanted so much for the 
dream to be real, for the mad quest to have a magical fulfillment, to believe that 
the poor old Archimage knew my destiny. But it seems that he didnot know, and so 
there was no magic after all. I suspected as much. 
Wind. 
Snow. 
Cold. 
And her body still moving, almost beyond pain now. With her teeth, she pulled off 
one frozen mitten and let it drop; then thrust the icy bare hand inside her snowcrusted 
overtunic to touch the trillium amulet one final time, begging for a last 
modicum of physical strength. 
Let me only make it to the top of the ridge. Five more steps, the most arduous, 

most terrible actions she had ever accomplished… God, help the one who trusted 
Thee… one more step… 
Done! 
At the ridge-crest was a rocky parapet only lightly covered with snow. As she 
straightened up, the wind's blast seemed to abate, the blizzard no longer lashing 
her. Back the way she had come, the air was still roiled with tempestuous grey; 
but ahead there was blue sky and a dazzling panorama of snow-clad peaks 
extending far into the west. The steep front of the ridge fell away at her feet into 
an abyss that seemed to plunge to infinity before its depths were lost in haze. 
"Here I am," she whispered, and dizziness overcame her, and she swayed and 
nearly lost consciousness. But her hand gripping the amulet was no longer without 
sensation, but felt a growing, painful warmth; and rather than succumb to 
welcome death, she forced her eyes to open one final time. 
On the ridge, not a stone's-throw to her right, a great snowy whirlwind spun, all 
sparkling in the sun like diamond-dust. 
Haramis dropped to her knees and stared at it, completely helpless. It swayed and 
swirled and grew into a gigantic fluid white cone that spun on its point. And 
within the whirlwind there were Eyes. 
Eyes green as ice. Scores of them. Looking at her. 
"I seek the Three-Winged Circle," she whispered. 
We are to guard it for you, come to meet you. 
"I greet you," said Princess Haramis, with dignity. Then she fell forward into a 
profound and welcome blackness. 
There followed a time filled with busy dreaming, during which she suffered great 
pain and then found a deep and soothing release. The Eyes in the Whirlwind 
inhabited her dreams, only sometimes they were fearsome and sometimes gentle, 

belonging to tall and graceful beings clad in pale-tinted flowing garments and 
adorned with extraordinary quantities of jewels, who whispered to her and 
ministered to her and admonished her to do this thing or that, while she obeyed 
like a tiny child. 
She asked them who they were, and they told her that they were the First Folk, 
who had been keepers of the great Sceptre of Power of the Vanished Ones from 
time out of mind. 
She asked them if this Sceptre was the talisman she sought, and they said: In a 
manner yes, and in another manner, no. For in dark ages past the Threefold was 
sundered and its members scattered so as to prevent it falling into the hands of 
evil. 
Dreaming still, the Princess asked the Eyes if they were in truth the keepers of the 
Three-Winged Circle, her own talisman. 
Yes, for this portion of the Threefold we kept safe in an ice-cave. The other two 
parts were sent far away by the White Lady, to be cared for by others until the 
time when her powers should fade, and the Sceptre would be needed to restore the 
great balance of the world. 
Harmis said: "My sisters seek two other talismans." 
And so does the evil one of your age, who even now looks upon you, hoping you 
will succeed in your quest… 
It seemed to Haramis that one pair of watching Eyes changed from ice-green into 
star-white, blazing; and she saw the beautiful face of a man smiling at her, and she 
asked: "Is this he?" 
And they said, Yes. 
In the dream this man reached out to her, and she returned his smile; and he said: 
"I am not what they say I am. Be not deceived. These little ones understand only a 
part of the great whole. Reserve judgment until you can know me truly and make 

up your own mind." 
Haramis woke in a narrow bed with gauzy hangings all about, and she marveled 
that she was so warm, until she realized that heat emanated from the mattress 
beneath her. 
The hypocaust warms the base of the bed and the floors, said a soft voice. 
Through its flues steam comes from the hot springs, and in this manner so we heat 
our homes. 
The bed-drapes parted, and Haramis saw an aboriginal woman of a race heretofore 
unknown to her. Her face was narrower than that of the familiar Nyssomu, and her 
mouth and nose more human. Her huge eyes — green rather than golden — and 
the ears that emerged from a wavy mass of platinum hair, marked her as of the 
Folk. She had hands with three digits also; but the talons were vestigial, and very 
much resembled fingernails — save for their thickness, and an apparently natural 
tendency to come to a point. 
When she smiled at Haramis, her teeth were not fanglike, but were small and 
even. The Princess recalled the melodious timbre of the Vispi woman's voice from 
her dreaming; it was some minutes before she realized that the woman's lips did 
not move when she spoke. 
But of course not, came the cheerful acknowledgment. You would not understand 
our language, so we use the speech without words! My name is Magira, and I 
greet you, Princess Haramis of the Trillium. Now come out of bed and let me help 
you to dress, for you are quite recovered and our people would meet with you 
before you continue on your quest. 
"But you can understand me…" The Princess still had not fully recovered her 
wits, and she was not yet certain what was dream and what reality. Magira's talk 
of "continuing on her quest" was more than a little daunting. 
As you speak, so your mind repeats your thoughts, Princess. We Vispi have no 
trouble understanding you… Does this gown meet with your approval? I think you 
will find it very comfortable, and the black fur edging matches your hair. 

"Yes, thank you. The dress is lovely." 
Haramis let Magira attire her in a flowing robe of pale blue fabric, like velvet only 
not so heavy, trimmed with soft black fur. At the neck and sleeve-edges and hem 
were wide embroidered silver bands all inset with sapphires and moonstones. She 
put on boots of silvery leather, and a silver belt with a hanging purse all beaded 
with seed-gems, and let the Vispi woman braid her hair into two thick plaits and 
tie them with blue ribbon. 
Our Vispi blood flows warm and so we require garments much lighter than 
humankind must wear here. Take this cloak also, and gloves, and I will lead you 
to the Town Hall of Movis, which is not far from this house. 
Obediently, Haramis slipped on the bejeweled gloves while Magira draped a 
splendid cloak of mingled black and white furs about her shoulders and drew up 
its hood. The Princess then followed the Vispi woman out of the bedchamber, and 
down a flight of stone stairs with narrow, glazed windows, and into a vestibule; 
and thence outdoors. 
"So this is Movis!" 
Haramis stopped in the portico and gazed about at the city which she had thought 
only a legend. The air had a golden luminescence and it was obviously near 
sunset. The Princess had a view of several hundred finely made stone houses, 
many of impressive size, and a number of other buildings, considerably larger, 
clustered about a central plaza. 
Plumes of vapor rose up on every side — not only from the slate roofs of the 
dwellings, but also from grates in the cobblestone streets and from boxy small 
structures standing in every dooryard and forecourt. Little trees and neat gardens 
surrounded each home, but no people or other living creatures were visible. The 
scene was oddly lit, shadowless, for no true sunshine reached the valley floor. A 
layer of bright cloud, like a golden ceiling supported by the hundreds of pillars of 
white steam, overlay all of the Vale of Movis. The lower slopes were green and 
terraced; the higher were snow-covered. From a great glacier poured a waterfall 
like a long white scarf. 

The people have prepared a festive evening meal for you, and they are awaiting 
your arrival, Magira said. 
"That sounds lovely," Haramis said, moving quickly to keep up with the longlegged 
Vispi woman, who now glided swiftly down the twisting streets, her gauzy 
garments afloat about her like pale banners streaming in a wind. "I seem to be 
very hungry; perhaps it's the air here." 
You slept for five days, Princess. 
"Oh!" said Haramis. 
During that time our caregivers attended you and healed your frozen flesh, and 
your other injuries. Doubtless you were aware of their ministrations in your 
dreams. 
"Yes. And I dreamt of another, too." 
Magira slowed, turned her emerald gaze upon the Princess, and her thought-tone 
was uneasy. We know that the evil one bespoke you. He can scry your presence 
only through his ice-mirror, and that not constantly, but only at intervals of two 
days or more, since you are shielded by your amulet from the natural mindobservatian 
of ill-wishers — 
"But he could still bespeak me in dreams?" 
Knowing you were here, he could. If you had been awake, you need not have 
listened, of course. 
Haramis forbore to talk of Orogastus further, yielding to a most curious feeling 
that the sorcerer evoked within her mind. Instead, she said to Magira: "Tell me, 
are your people self-sufficient in this valley?" 
We grow such food crops as can prosper in. the low light, and we keep domestic 
animals as well—togars and nunchiks within the town, and the larger volumnials 
and a few fronials outside, pasturing them in the dry season, sheltering them in 

caves during the rains and snows. In the caverns, nutritious luminous lichens and 
fungi grow, and you would find the nighttime appearance of our livestock droll, 
for their winter diet makes their teeth and antlers and hooves glow in the dark. 
"These are the animals that you obtain in trade?" 
Yes, for they breed slowly in the mountains. 
Haramis lifted one glove, and the gems sewn upon it gleamed. "You trade jewels 
and precious metals only?" 
Magira laughed. They are quite enough, Princess, for all races of the Folk crave 
such ornaments. In earlier years, our trading network spread from the Ohogans to 
the Tassaleyo Forest, with the retiring little Uisgu ever acting as our middlemen 
with other races of Folk. Since the advent of Ruwendian humankind, the tradepattern 
has altered, with humans now supplying more animals and sweets than the 
Folk alone ever could. And so the Vispi have prospered. 
"But still you forbid others to enter your land." 
Magira gave a delicate shrug. The hot-spring valleys are few and far between, and 
the living precariously balanced. We First Folk were made for this climate when it 
covered most of the world. As it shrank with the passing ages, we diminished in 
numbers, although we did succeed in retaining our culture. In time, other races of 
Folk, diverging from us, joined the abominable Foundation Stock in what is now 
called the Mazy Mire. But the high mountains are ours, and we protect them with 
fearsome illusions such as the Eyes in the Whirlwind. And since we are People of 
the Trillium, and obedient to the command of the White Lady, we guard also the 
Vispir Pass between Ruwenda and Labornok — 
Haramis halted and confronted her companion, speaking reproachfully. "Then 
where were you when King Voltrik's army invaded us?" 
Alas… the Lady did not alert us in time to your enemy's approach, and when the 
Vispi pass-guardians came, their illusions were penetrated by the power of the 
sorcerer. He bade the Labornoki soldiers ignore the phantasms and strike at the 
flesh-and-blood persons projecting them. The invaders slew all the Vispi 

guardians of our villages nearest the pass —some three hundred souls. 
"I am sorry," the Princess said sincerely. "I did not know. Very little news of the 
invasion came to us at the Citadel, for the invaders marched with fatal swiftness, 
overwhelming our people before they knew what was happening. Even now I 
know not what befell our people of the Dylex country, or the outlying manors of 
the south…" 
They had finally reached a very large building with windows alight in the dusk 
and the sound of music coming faintly through the walls. When Magira threw 
open the doors, Princess Haramis was astounded at the great crowd of Folk 
gathered therein: many hundreds, some seated at round tables, others dancing to a 
stately tune in a central open space. 
At the far end of the Town Hall was a broad dais at which richly attired Vispi sat. 
Above them on the wall was a banner carrying a great Black Trillium outlined in 
glittering diamonds. The female citizens of Movis were dressed much as Magira, 
in pastel flowing gowns and a profusion of jewels. The males mostly wore robes 
of deepest midnight blue, with undertunics and high boots of white. Their gemstudded 
belts, collars, and bracelets flashed like rainbow fire in the light of 
thousands of small cresset-lamps suspended from the high ceiling. 
A great clamor went up as Magira escorted her guest to the dignitaries at the dais. 
Haramis felt her vision dim and her mind reel, and might have staggered had 
Magira not taken hold of her. The mental and vocal shouting! She had never 
known anything like this. She felt assailed both inside and outside her body, and 
even though she knew the aggressors were friendly, she felt overwhelmed. 
Stop! Her mind gave an involuntary cry. 
Consternation. 
Silence, tangibly penitent. 
Trembling with relief, she said: "Thank you. I appreciate your welcome, but I fear 
I have not yet become accustomed to your manner of expressing it." 

A male of most venerable appearance, whose eyes were not green but dull white, 
rose from his place at the head of the table and addressed Haramis. She knew he 
was blind; she knew also that he saw her. 
Dear Princess, forgive us! We would not have affrighted you deliberately. Our joy 
at your appearance carried us away. I greet you in the name of all Vispi. I am 
Carimpole, Harkener of Mov'u. We have long awaited you. It was known to us 
that the flying seeds would draw you to our town… if you were strong enough to 
follow them. All throughout your journey, from the time you left Noth, we watched 
you. We saw you suffer hardship and fatigue and discouragement. We saw you 
come into the snowy high country where all of your great intelligence was useless 
and only willpower and physical endurance would sustain you. 
And then it seemed that you were weakening and would fail, as those who spend 
much time in thinking often do, scorning the body that seems unable to sustain the 
burning spirit it houses. We prayed for you in your extremity, at did the White 
Lady, and from us you drew fresh strength, perhaps, and forced the body to serve 
the mind, fulfilling your ordeal. You reached our innermost border—at which 
time we were permitted to take you in. 
Haramis heard a great murmuring of minds all about her, touching gently, wishing 
well. Her voice was barely audible: "You—you were forbidden to help me 
earlier?" 
Yes. For you, the journeying itself was crucial. It was an essential part of your 
quest. 
"And now —have I reached the end of it? You have the Three-Winged Circle and 
will give it to me?" 
On the morrow we will begin to teach you how to command the great birds you 
humans call lammergeiers. Your talisman lies some leagues from here, in an icecave 
high on Mount Gidris. A lammergeier will take you to the cave. As to your 
quest's completion, I cannot say. Merely having the Three- Winged Circle, in hand 
is nothing. It must be empowered. We do not know how this is to be accomplished. 

"I was told by the Archimage to return to her with the talisman after I have 
mastered myself. But she also told me that my destiny is linked with that of my 
two sisters, and that all three of us must succeed, or none will. Am I then to assist 
Kadiya and Anigel?" 
Haramis of the Trillium, we cannot toy. I think you will have to decide this for 
yourself. 
"I am the eldest sister, and I have always taken responsibility for the others. There 
is also a certain prophecy among the swamp Folk that says that a woman of 
Ruwenda will bring down the throne of Labornok. It seems that this woman must 
be me, for the Crown of Ruwenda is rightfully mine, and mine is the obligation to 
liberate our vanquished land." 
The great bird will carry you wherever you desire. But we cannot advise you 
further. Now that you are recovered from your hurts, we can only celebrate your 
coming and speed your going. But for now, will you sit here at table with us? For 
five days you have taken nothing but liquids, and we have tried to prepare dishes 
that will please your human palate. 
"I thank you," Haramis said, "and I will gladly join you." 
The Harkener clapped his hands. Then let the festive meats and pastries be 
brought forth, and honeyed fruit and mulled wine! And let there be more music 
and more dancing and merriment, for our Princess nears her goal and the world 
is brought that much closer to regaining its lost balance… Praise be to the White 
Lady, and to the Lord, of the Air, and to the Triune over all! 
Cheers filled the Town Hall, and side doors flew open to admit a train of cooks 
and helpers bearing heavy platters and steaming bowls. The musicians began to 
play again, while the people all hurried to seats at the other tables. 
Princess Haramis pulled off her gloves and unfastened her cape, and sank 
gratefully into the place indicated by the Harkener Carimpole. Magira sat beside 
her. Momentarily Haramis felt lightheaded again, and closed her eyes; and it 
seemed that she could see right through the walls of the hall. The clouds had 
lowered with oncoming night, and snowflakes were sifting down from them. But 

these melted when they reached the warm air just above the rooftops, and turned 
to rain that fell upon the village of the Vispi, softly at first, then with increasing 
vigor, rapping against the windowpanes as if demanding entrance. Mingled with 
their pattering was the faint voice of a man calling her name. 
Haramis opened her eyes again to the brightness and jollity all around her. She 
heard nothing but the convivial Vispi and their music — ringing oddly, half in her 
ears and half in her mind. 
Someone handed her a crystal goblet of sparkling wine. She drank deeply of it, 
and tried to smile. 
Chapter Twenty-Two 
Shut out, the sorcerer was amused rather than angered. "Enjoy yourself then with 
your Vispi friends, Haramis! But I will call you again and again, and the time will 
come when you must answer." 
Secure in his lair on Mount Brom, with the early snowstorm still raging, 
Orogastus began to search through his library, seeking further clues to the nature 
of the three mysterious talismans. 
The Book of Peninsular Prophecies was his principal source, as always. In one 
entry it named the talismans and hinted that they would reunite and precipitate 
some wondrous event. In another prophecy, one he knew of old (and had made 
certain that King Voltrik knew it also), the Three Petals of the Living Trillium 
were designated quite baldly as the "extinguishers" of the Labornoki throne; but 
nothing in the book hinted at a link between the Princesses and the talismans. 
Setting that ancient volume aside, he undertook a search through his large 
collection of thaumaturgical and mystical references. 
There was nothing to be found in the many books from Labornok, and he had no 
better luck rooting among the smaller number of volumes from Var and Raktum. 
The most ancient source of all, the incunabular Cyclopedia of Dark Powers he had 
brought from his own distant homeland of Tuzamen, made tantalizing brief 
mention of the subject. Under the heading "Threefold Talisman" he found but a 
single sentence: "A device of great potency, supposed to have been entrusted to 

the Vispi by the Vanished Ones from time out of mind." 
Yes! But what was it intended to do? 
He continued his search, looking to nonmagical books. And finally, in a slender, 
lingit-nibbled treatise of aboriginal studies from the island principality of Engi (of 
all places) he happened upon a reference to "the great Threefold Sceptre of Power 
which the Vispi race, most ancient of their kind, safeguarded until it should be 
required in the fullness of time." The reappearance of this cryptic object was 
ordained by the Vanished Ones, the book averred; exactly what it was intended to 
accomplish, no human knew, but it would shake the foundations of the world. 
"So we have three talismans and three girls seeking them," the sorcerer said to 
himself, closing the last book and rising from the library table. 
Hands clasped behind this back, he moved to the window and stared out at the 
blizzard. It was not completely unseasonable, the monsoons being due in ten days, 
and so it could not clearly be attributed to magic — specifically to the mischiefmongering 
Vispi who were such great friends of the Archimage Binah, and who 
were, according to tale-tellers, able to exert a certain control over the weather. 
Nevertheless, this snowstorm underlined the urgency of his researches, the 
necessity of vanquishing the Princesses before he was trapped up here in the 
mountains by the great winter tempests. 
"Three talismans, formerly together in the form of a Sceptre and entrusted to the 
Vispi, but evidently now separated and scattered about Ruwenda. And the socalled 
Three Petals of the Living Trillium, the Princesses, who in bringing the 
talismans back together may empower some great Three-in-One…" 
A maddening sense of indecision gnawed at the sorcerer's mind. It was obvious 
that more than the mere survival of Labornok and its King was at stake here: his 
own great ambition, forsooth! Would it not be better to permit the Princesses to 
live until they fulfilled their quests, thus insuring that all three talismans passed 
into his own hands? Or was his first instinct the correct one—that the girls should 
be prevented at any cost from succeeding, since they alone could potentiate the 
magical Three-in-One? 

More information! He needed more information before the final decision could be 
made. 
Orogastus whirled about and strode to the fireplace, where the fire painted his 
white hair with lurid glints. He stiffened, arms thrown wide, closed his eyes 
momentarily and spoke the spell. When his lids reopened, blazing stars sprang up 
behind his pupils and caused the flames to pale. 
Then Orogastus bespoke his Green Voice at Ruwenda Citadel, commanding him 
to begin a search of the great library there, gleaning whatever knowledge of the 
talismans, the Living Trillium, or the Threefold Sceptre of the Vispi might be 
found. The Voice was to enlist the most intelligent assistants he could find among 
the Labornoki host. 
"But take no Ruwendians into your confidence in this matter," the sorcerer 
warned, "and swear your fellow-searchers to secrecy by strong oaths, on pain of 
the royal displeasure." 
"I shall obey, Almighty Master." 
"Now tell me how fares King Voltrik." 
"He continues to mend," said the Green Voice. "The good news that you had 
reached your tower and scried the three Princesses in your ice-mirror cheered him 
exceedingly. He congratulates you and expresses the royal approbation and his 
personal good wishes, and looks forward to your continuing zeal in directing the 
search for the fugitives. King Voltrik commanded that we carry him to the 
window of his room so that he could give his benison to the two search-parties as 
they sallied forth, and on that day ate his first full meal." 
"Very good, And now report to me concerning the occupation and pacification." 
"The Citadel and its environs are very quiet. The noncombatant middleclass 
Ruwendians and Citadel Knoll freeholders have pledged fealty to Labornok, albeit 
grudgingly. There is no organized resistance to our rule. Most of the surviving 
nobles in the southern realm have fled into the swamp, but they pose no serious 
threat. The unburned Dylex villages are all fully garrisoned now except for the 

remote enclaves of Prok and Goyk, and the orderly harvest and processing of 
foodstuffs has resumed. There may be some shortages among the locals during the 
rainy season, but our army of occupation will be well-fed." 
"Satisfactory. And the export trade?" 
"The Trevista market has reopened. Trade in medicines, spices, essences, and dyes 
is about one-quarter of the pre-war rate. The Master-Traders expect things to pick 
up next season. The timber-trade is effectively stalled until the Rains end. Tass 
Town, where forest products are gathered, was untouched by fighting, and its 
craftsmen surrendered bloodlessly, but there have been delays in getting them 
back to work. Large amounts of lumber and raw logs have piled up at the holding 
yards at Tass Town and at the northern end of the lake, near the Great Causeway. 
All that is needed to restore trade is a resumption of caravan movement from 
Labornok and this will be accomplished during the spring dry season." 
Orogastus sighed. "Very good. I am pleased with you, my Voice. You will hear 
from me again in two days." 
"As you will, Almighty Master." The vision of the Green Voice faded. 
Orogastus now let his farseeing eye rove briefly westward, where he spied 
General Hamil's great flotilla of riverboats sweeping upstream toward Trevista. 
The sorcerer did not exert himself bespeaking the Red Voice. Time enough for 
that when the force would have traveled as far as the Thorny Hell. By then he 
would have confirmed Princess Kadiya's travel-route by means of his every-otherday 
scrutiny of the ice-mirror, and worked out the strategy for taking her. 
The Blue Voice had already reported that the first day of searching by Prince 
Antar's force had failed to find any trace of Princess Anigel. This was no great 
surprise to Orogastus. His reference books had revealed to him the unusual nature 
of her transportation — clearly a novelty arranged by the Archimage Binah 
herself. With the powerful rimoriks hauling her wooden punt, Anigel had 
undoubtedly put a good distance between herself and the enemy concentration at 
Citadel Knoll. Now that the two-day interval of rest required by the ice-mirror had 
passed, it would be possible to scry out her new position, and perhaps deduce 
where she was heading in search of her talisman. 

Enrobing and masking himself, the sorcerer came again to the Cavern of Black Ice 
and addressed the wonderful device: 
"O powerful tool of the Vanished Ones, answer my request!" 
The greyness lit slowly — so slowly! —like a candle with the wick cut 
dangerously short. The voice was a rough whisper. 
"Responding… request… please." 
Curse it! The illumination was flickering. Perhaps he should have let it rest longer 
after that first rather extensive querying. Well, there was no help for it now. He 
would ask after Anigel, and let the other two Princesses go for the present. They 
were still inaccessible after all, while there was a good chance that Anigel was 
within Prince Antar's grasp. 
"View one person for as long as the Dark Powers permit," Orogastus intoned. 
"Locate present position of this person on map." 
"Request… validated. Name of person." The eery voice strengthened and the 
maelstrom within the icy mirror assumed an almost normal aspect. 
"Princess Anigel of Ruwenda." Orogastus visualized the girl, then held his breath. 
Scanning. 
The map image formed. It was not so bright or clear as last time, but it would do. 
Anigel was on Lake Wum, close to the western Green-mire shore and about 
halfway down. She had to be heading for Tass Town at the foot of the lake. There 
was no other place to go. But, what a singular destination! 
"Princess Anigel of Ruwenda. Location: Sa fifty-one two, La twenty-two four on 
Grid Oma." 
Then came the picture, its colors dull but clear. The rimorik-drawn punt moved at 

only moderate speed through the thick Greenmire shrubbery of the western 
lakeshore, where small arboreal bloodsuckers, slimy flat things the size of coins, 
bedeviled the Princess and Immu by dropping from the foliage into the boat. 
"If you think these suckers are bad," Immu's mirror-image said to the disgusted 
girl, "just wait until we get into the Tassaleyo Forest!" 
"Aha!" Orogastus cried out exultantly. "Now I have you!" 
The ice-mirror immediately reproved him: "Bad command. Use debug to review 
your program. Hiatus for recharge." 
And it fell into a sulk and the image died. 
But the sorcerer's elation was undaunted. He had the crucial clue that would 
enable him to plot Anigel's capture, and his voice rang from one end of the frigid 
cavern to the other as he gave thanks to the Dark Powers. 
Chapter Twenty-Three 
The strange little swimming root led Kadiya and Jagun only a short way back 
down the River Nothar, and then it turned off to the left to ascend a nameless 
tributary. They were now heading toward forbidden territory indeed: the 
treacherous wilderness called the Thorny Hell. 
To keep in sight of their frail guide they had to stay in what open water there was. 
Sometimes that became so shallow that they both waded on foot, dragging the 
punt with them. Again they needed to cross patches of open water where Jagun 
fell back on his trailcraft and heaped over the punt a mass of rough-cut reed, so 
they would appear to be a drift of soggy growth. 
Twice that first day Kadiya lay belly flat, peering through the rough thatching of 
the punt, Jagun stretched with her as they looked upon small groups of Skritek. 
Kadiya pulled up her wrist to seal her mouth, for her stomach now rebelled. Much 
had been told of the hideous creatures she spied upon but none of her imaginings 
were as bad as what she now saw. 

The first pack seemed to be hunting afoot, and there were young among them. 
Here in their own territory they did not always resort to drowning, but walked 
boldly in search of prey. They had split apart, one section moving ahead to take a 
stand on one of the rubble mounts while the remainder came toward them, 
stamping three-toed feet, beating the growth with the butts of crude spears and 
clubs. Creatures broke from hiding, leapt, or scuttled, or tried to fly, while the 
Skritek ahead made sure of plentiful captures. Nor did they wait to carry this prey 
to any camp but ate at once, some of their catch still alive, quarreling over 
portions. Watching, Kadiya swallowed sickly, sour bile in her mouth. But she 
made herself look. For she had learned one thing from Jagun: know well the 
habits of your enemy, his goings and comings, his food, his sleep, all that is his 
common custom, learn and remember. 
While they hid from the fiends of the Mire, their swimming guide appeared —by 
some instinct, if one might deem it that—to seek safely, lingering near the 
drooping edge of the thatch which covered them. 
The second parry of Skritek which they encountered passed later, near sundown. 
This time there were no croaking cries, no striking at the mass of vegetation. They 
walked easily, seeming to thread some trail Kadiya could not see from her 
position. And with these was another! A human being. The girl gasped and Jagun 
nudged her sharply. 
It was certainly a human male walking the trail with Skritek, but he was no 
prisoner. He was dressed all in red, but with the fabric all muddied from the 
swamp. His head was covered by a hood which extended down to his mouth in the 
front, masking half his face. He wore a sword and carried a short spear. He spoke 
with his monstrous companions in so guttural a series of noises that Kadiya 
wondered how he could produce them, apparently disputing with one of the 
Drown-ers—pointing in one direction while the Skritek wanted to proceed in 
another. And he won that small clash of wills. 
In all history, in the gathered legends, the lore of Nyssomu and Uisgu, polder and 
Citadel, never had there been any truce between the Skritek and another race. 
Now Jagun was proven correct: somehow Voltrik or Orogastus had enlisted these 
ogres into their service. However, their reputation for treachery was well set. It 
was a brave man who walked with them, even if he served a bloody cause. His 

confidence hinted that it was certainly more than force of arms or persuasion of 
words which was his protection. 
That must be one of the Voices! Kadiya shivered. Her hand was flat against her 
breast over the amulet. Hide us, she begged it wordlessly. Protect us. 
As to what — or whom — that parry hunted, Kadiya had little doubt. She did not 
know where Haramis or Anigel had gone, but she was here. This band of Skritek 
sniffing out trails, companioned by one of Orogastus's servants, were intent upon 
finding her. That the sorcerer's acolyte had not been suddenly aware of her was 
astounding. Certainly Orogastus must have some method of search other than eye 
or ear. She could hardly believe it when the brutes passed without any alarm being 
raised. But the Black Trillium's magic was not easily overcome. 
Kadiya squirmed a little forward and looked into the water. The root-guide rested 
there as quietly as if it lay upon a table. She drew forth her amulet. It gleamed 
with potency and the green light underwater seemed to pulsate in sympathy, 
quivering into life. Though it had been originally pointed toward that shore along 
which the trail led, now it shifted course until it was parallel with the opposite 
bank. Kadiya saw Jagun reach for the sculling oar and felt the skiff answer. 
They hugged the shoreline, always alert to any movement, pausing now and then 
as Jagun used nose and ear to judge what lay about. There was only the usual hum 
of insects, the peeping of mud-dwellers, the natural sounds of day. 
Any confidence which that might have given them was sharply dispelled. They 
came not only to the end of the wider lane of water but also to a barrier of what 
appeared to be an islet standing well above the water. Into a grim land the rootguide 
pointed straight ahead. A few feet above them were tangled the black, 
rotting skeletons of trees which gave support to a network of what looked like 
vines. The ground offered bedding to distended ball-shaped growths of reddish 
blue. 
Jagun pointed to the nearest of these. "Those are killers nourished by the foulness 
of this soil. Avoid them as you would a poisoned knife, King's Daughter." 
Here was utter silence, a land which could not or would not support any form of 

life except evil. Still the root that was their guide did not vary direction. It was 
straight ahead that they must go. 
A putrid odor made Kadiya gag. She did not need Jagun's touch as warning. There 
was movement among the dead trees, a swishing sound — and a female Skritek 
came into view. 
She did not march with any alert purpose, but rather dragged herself along, 
leaning on a staff, swaying from side to side. She was not sleek or slim of body. 
Instead her greenish flesh was bloated, the paunch protruding so that the creature 
was plainly top-heavy. Once she clutched out at the crooked limb of a dead tree 
and that crumbled to dust, so she went to her knees. No struggle could bring her 
upright again and she crawled until she reached a more substantial tree to pull 
herself up. 
Her body twisted. Her open mouth voiced a harsh cry. From beneath the overhang 
of that huge belly there protruded a white object that wriggled as if it had a life of 
its own, fell to the ground, and humped away. This was followed by a second, a 
third, until Kadiya could count ten fat, whitish wormlike spawn, perhaps as big as 
a human baby's head. 
The mother Skritek collapsed against the tree she had embraced and the young, 
which had been plainly questing for something, turned nearly as one to swarm 
over her who had given them birth. They were plainly-feeding. 
Jagun crept up beside the girl. "The newborn spawn are ravenous." His voice was 
the faintest of whispers. "And that luckless dam had no meat waiting to appease 
her brood." 
Already two or three of the loathsome young had left the carcass of the female 
Skritek. Two came humping forward. As far as the girl could see they had no sign 
of real heads, although they carried the front ends of their bodies a little higher. 
These waved about in the air and then centered on the direction of the punt. They 
began to crawl toward the water. 
Jagun moved quickly. His blowpipe was ready and the first dart thudded deeply 
into the body of the leading larva. It was followed by a second which as easily 

picked off its companion. The spawn beat the foreparts of their bodies upon the 
ground and then were still. 
Jagun hitched his hunter's bag toward him and worked out of it a much folded 
strip of some substance as fine and transparently woven as a festival veil. He split 
this in two and handed half to Kadiya, gesturing that she was to follow his 
example in its use, twining the length about the head so it covered eyes, nose, and 
mouth. He tested the knot the girl had tied to fasten hers before he went ahead. 
More of the larval Skritek were turning toward the punt, their fore ends lifted as if 
following the scent of prey. This time Jagun aimed not at them, but at the reddishblue 
bulbous growths springing from the soil around them. The first ball his dart 
entered exploded as if some force had been imprisoned under its rind. Outward 
shot a cloud of blue dust, which was joined by another and another cloud until 
there was a drift of spores across the shore as thick as a fog. Jagun pushed the punt 
back to mid-water and kept it there until the cloud broke into wisps and settled. 
Where the Skritek spawn had crawled there were now lumps of slimy jelly slowly 
sinking into the ground. 
Kadiya reached into the water and caught up the stem of the trillium. It tugged, 
straight-pointing in her hand. Then it slipped from her hold and flew through the 
air as if she had thrown it. There was no escaping the fact that it now lay on that 
evilly spotted shore where the Skritek mother's dead body lay, and that it pointed 
inland. The Princess looked to Jagun. He shrugged. 
Then he spoke, his words muffled by the improvised mask he still wore. "There 
lies the Thorny Hell itself, Farseer. It would seem that we have no choice but to 
enter in." 
That she had no choice was evident. Twist or turn as she might, she could not 
leave the path the Archimage's magic had designated for her. She crawled stiffly 
onto the bank. The root of the trillium slid steadily forward, though it made a wide 
swing about the round poisonous growths. 
"What lies ahead?" demanded Kadiya as she shouldered the second hunter's bag. 
Jagun shook his head. "Unknown land, King's Daughter. If fortune favors us we 

may reach the holdings of the Uisgu." 
She stepped carefully around one of the yellow balls, taking good care not to look 
at the tree where lay the Skritek dam's half-picked bones. 
"Fortune?" The Princess gave a bitter little laugh. "No one holds the good will of 
that for long." 
They came to a weed-lined channel with green-scummed water. One of the dead 
trees had fallen to span it and there were prints in the mud showing that it served 
as a bridge. Kadiya stooped to pick up the trillium-root, fearing that it might glide 
on into the waterway and be lost. It was stiff and straight in her hand. From its tip 
sprang an emanation like a thread of black flame; and although there was no 
breeze, it pointed ahead in the direction they were to go: into a wilderness of 
towering thorn-ferns twice the height of a man. 
They traveled on for hours. Then finally Jagun said: "We will stop here for the 
night." 
The area which the root-guide had brought them to stood somewhat above the 
level of the rest of the ground. It was bare of the thorn-ferns and there were none 
of the poisonous balls to be seen. Rough grass with sword-sharp edges surrounded 
them as they came upon a great irregular mound. Though they had seen very few 
evidences of ruins since they had left Noth, it was plain that intelligence and not 
nature had shaped this outcrop. Kadiya clutched a small shrub to help pull herself 
up and loosed a clod of roots and earth. She looked upon what seemed to be 
dressed stone. It was not the dark granite which was the common construction 
material of the ruins she knew, but a mineral much smoother, so slick she 
wondered that the sod had found root there at all. And it had a peculiar sheen 
under the setting sun. 
"What is this?" She called Jagun's attention to it. It could be that the root-guide 
had led them to an artifact so huge that she could not begin to guess its meaning or 
use. As she clawed away more earth to uncover it, it became obvious that the ruin 
was certainly not made of stone. The surface was sleek under her muddy 
fingertips. 

Jagun looked at her discovery and then hurriedly averted his eyes. "It is of the 
Vanished Ones." He made a small gesture in the air and stared intently at the 
trillium-root Kadiya carried. Its black flame, which had indicated their route, still 
held aslant for a moment; and then it straightened and flared with a green halo. 
Suddenly Kadiya felt that the aching burden of doubt which had held her for so 
long was lightened. She pulled herself up to the top of the mound and found that 
she was balanced on the rim of what might be a giant bowl. The sides sloped 
downward abruptly, and apparently frequent slides caused by storms had cleared 
sod and detritus from stretches of the surface, which as far as she could see was 
neither pitted nor eroded. 
Kadiya was amazed, and suddenly she laughed. 
"Hunter, this land holds many surprises. Perhaps fortune smiles after all for I feel 
— " She flung her arms wide and drew a great breath of air. The Vanished Ones 
seemed to approve her presence here, even welcome her. She rejoiced in a lighter 
heart. Here all the darkness and terrors that had oppressed her appeared small and 
far away. She felt no more of the fatigue of her journey, only a rising excitement 
and a belief that whatever lay before them would indeed work to her purpose. 
Chapter Twenty-Four 
Prince Antar set out in pursuit of Princess Anigel with an expeditionary force of 
twenty knights and sixty soldiers, and also the sorcerer's Blue Voice, who would 
keep the Prince apprised of the girl's position through contacts with his farseeing 
master. The men of Labornok traveled from the Citadel in three large flatboats 
equipped with auxiliary punts. The fronial mounts belonging to the knights were 
left behind by princely order, which occasioned great grumbling by Sir Rinutar 
and Sir Karon and their cronies, even though they could not say how and where 
they hoped to ride the great steeds in the trackless Mazy Mire. The flatboats each 
had three crews of oarsmen to row double-time in sequential shifts, and the big 
boats fairly flew along the calm waters of the Lower Mutar and Lake Wum. 
Following Orogastus's triumphant second scry, the search-parry was augmented 
by the Master-Trader Edzar, who was as experienced in dealing with the timberpurveying 
Wyvilo aborigines of the Tassaleyo Forest as he was with the Nyssomu 

of Trevista. Through the intermediary Blue Voice, Edzar had conferred with the 
sorcerer and devised a plan that he declared to be foolproof. 
Now the Labornoki force was fast approaching Tass Town, the only sizable 
human settlement on the lake. The timber-trading center of Ruwenda was a rather 
shabby agglomeration of docks, warehouses, and shanties situated on an island, 
surrounded on all sides by floating booms which formed great pens that enclosed 
the raw logs. The Master-Trader Edzar explained to the knights that many of these 
would be transported to holding yards at the upper end of the lake by forming 
them into rafts and sailing them north during the rainy season, when the prevailing 
winds were favorable. The more valuable cut lumber and peeled spars were 
loaded on flatboats and transshipped at any time of the year to the northern yards, 
whence they were carted away via the Trade Route during the dry seasons. 
Riding on the forward deck of the flagship with the awning shading them from the 
blazing lake sun, the Prince's men were bored with voyaging and the genial 
trader's lecture — there being little else to do but drink and watch the scenery — 
and eager to begin their hunt again. 
Their first search for Princess Anigel in the Mazy Mire near Citadel Knoll and the 
Great Causeway had been a near-fiasco. The men were chevaliers, not sailors, and 
had no knowledge of how to direct a search on water. The force of twenty 
auxiliary punts, each bearing a knight-commander, three men-at-arms, and three 
oarsmen, had milled about the Mire every which way under the orders of their 
inexperienced captains. There had been squabbles over who should search the 
near areas and who the far, who the clear channels and who the dense thickets 
crawling with venomous water-worms, stinging vermin, and voracious milingalfish. 
Several hours were wasted crisscrossing the same easy territory and leaving other 
places untouched, until the skipper of the flagship had tactfully suggested to 
Prince Antar that the watermen, rather than the knights, should direct the 
movements of the boats, with a large reward offered to the crew that should first 
locate the Princess. An efficient search was then conducted, which unfortunately 
came to naught. Prince Antar did not seem at all dejected by their lack of success. 
Now, as the search party approached the scene of more promising action, Antar 
became morose and edgy, so that the rough-hewn Sü Rinutar whispered to a few 

of his intimates that the Prince seemed not to subscribe wholeheartedly to their 
quest. His remarks were overheard by the bluff and loyal Sir Penapat, who took 
great exception to them and threatened to break Rinutar's head. 
An unseemly fracas was avoided only by the intervention of Antar himself, who 
restored order with the help of his marshal, Sir Owanon. The Prince then retreated 
to his solitary position in the bows of the flagship where none dared to disturb 
him, and remained there until they were about to dock. 
At this time, the Prince called upon the Master-Trader Edzar to bring out his maps 
once again and recapitulate his scheme for the entire knightly party, so that there 
would be no misunderstandings when they disembarked. Edzar still wore his goldembroidered 
green tabard, but he had exchanged his orange robe for a vivid purple 
one, and his leaf hat for another, even broader of brim, woven intricately of long 
conifer needles and banded with large cerise flowers. 
"As you can see, my Lords," he began, "three large rivers, including the Lower 
Mutar, feed into Lake Wum. But there is just one outlet, the Great Mutar, which 
flows into the Tassaleyo Forest and is the only corridor into that howling 
wilderness. If the mighty Orogastus has interpreted his vision correctly, then 
Princess Anigel is heading for the forest, and to get there, she must pass here." 
His finger indicated Lake Wum's southern outflow, which on the map was labeled 
TASS FALLS. 
The lanky, saturnine Blue Voice now insinuated himself forward. He usually kept 
to the flatboat skipper's cabin, being shy of sunlight as a slug; but their near 
approach to Tass Town had brought him on deck. 
"My worthy Master-Trader, the ice-mirror of my Almighty Master not only sees, 
but also hears. The farsensing lasts but a minute. Nevertheless, on his second 
scrying, my Master clearly heard the Princess Anigel's servant remark about their 
impending journey into the Tassaleyo Forest." 
The Prince scowled at the map. "If we miss her at the falls, we'll have to chase her 
down the Great Mutar. It's less than a fortnight to the rainy season… and what in 
Zoto's Name are we going to use down there for boats?" 

Edzar said: "It should be possible for us to lower our own punts via the log-lift. 
However, the Wyvilo have their own much faster rivercraft moored below the 
falls. In the normal course of events, humans do not ride in them. Ruwendian 
humans, that is. But if we find it necessary to pursue the Princess down the Great 
Mutar we might — er—try to convince the Wyvilo to transport us." 
Sir Rinutar gave a wicked chuckle. "Now, how could they possibly refuse to help 
a fine lot of lads like ourselves?" 
He had been sharpening his sword, which he now swept up in a gentle arc, 
bringing the point to bear on the Master-Trader's bulbous nose. Edzar spluttered 
and the knights laughed. 
The Blue Voice said: "I am empowered to demonstrate certain magic to the forest 
Oddlings, should they be reluctant to assist us. Between my sort of persuasion and 
Sir Rinutar's, we should experience no great difficulty securing additional 
transport, should that contingency arise… Of course, if Master Edzar's plan 
succeeds, we will take Princess Anigel here at the falls." 
Sir Owanon, who was Prince Antar's close friend as well as his second-incommand, 
was a younger man with a humorous, intelligent face. He now lifted an 
admonitory finger. "Hark! Is that the cascade itself I hear?" 
"It is indeed, my Lord," the trader replied. "Tass Falls are quite impassable to 
rivercraft. They are more than sixty ells high and spew a great volume of water, 
even in the dry season. Below them, the Great Mutar flows wide and slow to the 
sea. Wyvilo loggers have no trouble bringing their timber upstream to the falls. It 
is a droll sight to see the strange inhuman beings perched in a long line atop a 
floating log of heroic proportions, poling it upstream while singing their barbaric 
anthems." 
"And no doubt planning ingenious ways to slice up the liver of the next unlucky 
human they meet," drawled Sir Karon. Most of the other knights laughed grimly. 
"No, no, my lords," Edzar protested. "For all their horrific appearance, the Wyvilo 
are — er — relatively civilized. You are thinking of their cousins the Glismak, 

who live further south. They are the ones with cannibalistic tendencies — " 
"Stones of Zoto!" somebody exclaimed. "We must fight man-eaters?" 
"You can hold our cloaks, Stolafat, if the prospect freezes your guts," jeered 
Rinutar. 
"Enough of this," Prince Antar broke in. "Master Edzar, show us again this socalled 
foolproof plan of yours." And to his men: "Pay attention and cease this 
bickering!" 
Edzar flourished the map and respread it, beckoning all to come closer. "See here. 
Tass Town on its island lies near the lake's eastern shore. The eastern channel is 
completely blocked with log booms. To the west are fewer booms, for there arise 
the rocks called the Fangs of Munjuno, through which swift currents pour before 
surging over the rim of the cascade. The western lakeshore at this point is sheer 
rock and quite impassable, while on the eastern shore is thick jungle, penetrated 
only by the skid-road that leads from the great log-lift at the precipice edge to the 
cove opposite Tass Town where the wood is put into the water. This eastern road 
is the place where we must set up our ambush." 
Edzar pointed first to the map, then to the eastern shore, which lay across from 
their docking place, beyond a great labyrinth of floating timber. The Prince and 
his men could see numbers of skeletal wagons parked on the skid-road, having 
wheels taller than a man; but there seemed to be no people or draft-animals 
moving about over there, and indeed the shore looked deserted. 
"The war brought most commerce in Tass Town to a halt," Edzar explained. "The 
Ruwendian workers who normally staff the lumber mill below the falls, the great 
lift, and the skid-road have not yet returned to work. Lord Zontil, one of General 
Hamil's most trusted aides, has been charged with setting up a garrison here. He 
expects to have the situation well in hand by the end of the Rains. All the logs that 
you see now in the water will be sent to the northern end of the lake by that time. 
And by the spring dry season, timber production should be back to normal." 
"Cease boring us with your mercantile trivia, trader!" Sir Rinutar slapped the map 
impatiently. "Do you guarantee that the fugitive wench can get to the Tassaleyo 

Forest by no other route than this — this skid-road?" 
Edzar drew himself up in offended dignity. "I do. There is a vast unscalable 
escarpment along this border of the Ruwenda tableland. Untold ages ago a narrow 
footpath was cut by the Oddlings in the cliff east of the falls. The great log-lift and 
the lumber mill below, that is powered by the falling water, were built by the first 
humans inhabiting Ruwenda, utilizing foundations that are said to have been left 
by the Vanished Ones. There is no way from Lake Wum to the Great Mutar River 
save the lift and the footpath. The Princess must take the skid-road to attain either 
one." 
The three flatboats of the search force were now being tied up at the main Tass 
Town dock, which also seemed conspicuously devoid of activity. Well-armed 
soldiers of Labornok stood guard all along the quayside as glum-looking 
Ruwendians handled the lines and pulled the gangplanks into place. A Labornoki 
nobleman in elaborate armor, at-tended by several officers, waited impatiently for 
the docking maneuvers to be completed so that he could greet the Prince. 
But Antar was bent over the map, giving instructions. "This is the way we shall 
deploy, then. We will divide our force into three companies — Owanon to lead 
the first, Dodabilik the second, and Rinutar the third — to be stationed at the skidroad 
landing, midway down the road where the footpath cuts off, and at the top of 
the log-lift." 
"You do not intend to command a company yourself, my Prince?" Sir Rinutar's 
tone was tainted with the slightest archness. 
"No," said Antar coldly. "The Blue Voice and I will coordinate the action from a 
point of vantage. He is able to farsee for short distances. Penapat will also remain 
with us, since his foot is not yet healed from the water-worm bite, to handle the 
signalmen and messengers who will transmit my orders. We must make absolutely 
certain" — the Prince's gaze met that of the hovering Blue Voice — "that Princess 
Anigel does not slip through our fingers again." 
It was just after noon of their third day on Lake Wum, and the sound of Tass Falls 
rumbled in the air like faraway thunder, its brink lost in sparkling mist. Anigel and 
Immu had approached Tass Town's island with great care, and their boat now lay 

concealed beneath a weeping tree that grew from a cleft in a great precipice along 
the western shore. 
All about their hiding place huge rocks rose from the water. Between them and the 
island less than two hundred ells away, the five pointed Fangs of Munjuno marked 
the point of no return above the falls. A small boat could breast the current north 
of the rocks and safely reach the log booms and the opposite shore; but to pass 
south of the Fangs meant being trapped in swifter waters and swept over the 
cataract. 
"What we must do," Immu said, laying out a frugal lunch in the green shade, "is 
wait until nightfall, then cross over above the Fangs. There is a road on the shore 
over there that runs less than half a league. We follow it to a steep path that leads 
down to the Ruwendian sawmill at the foot of the falls, and steal another boat 
there." 
"But the rimoriks—!" Anigel cried. 
"But but but! We let the good creatures go free, back to their home waters. Did 
you think you could keep them as pets forever?" 
Anigel hung her head. "I did not think at all." 
Immu patted her shoulder. "Never mind. The Great Mutar is very shallow, aside 
from the main channel. We can make a log raft and pole downstream if need be — 
and at least one of your great fears will be left behind. The troops of Labornok 
will never think to look for us in the Tassaleyo. With luck, the Wyvilo will respect 
your trillium amulet just as the Uisgu did, and they will help you on your quest." 
Anigel looked up dubiously from munching her dried roots. "Do you really think 
so? I have heard that they are very hostile to humankind, and fearsome to look 
upon as well." 
"They're not the kind of Folk you would invite to a grand ball at the Citadel," 
Immu conceded. "Some Nyssomu say that aeons ago members of our race were 
stolen away by the Skritek and forced to consort with them, and from the mating 
arose both the Wyvilo and their more primitive neighbors, the Glismak." 

"What do they look like?" Anigel asked, licking her fingers. 
"I have never seen one, but they are said to combine Skritek features with those of 
Nyssomu or Uisgu." 
"Ugh!" said the Princess. 
"Whatever their aspect," Immu continued reprovingly, "the Wyvilo are also 
subjects of the White Lady who revere the Black Trillium, and so we may hope 
they will receive us kindly." 
"These Glismak—they are unfriendly to humans?" 
Immu sighed. "Like the Skritek, those fiends of the Mazy Mire, the Glismak hate 
all beings save themselves. We must pray that your talisman — " 
"Look!" cried Anigel, pointing across the water. "Oh, look! A whole fleet of punts 
coming out from behind the island—and the leader bears the banner of 
Labornok!" 
Immu shaded her eyes and peered into the shimmering glare. The air was windless 
and it was very hot. "Are you sure?" 
"Oh, I am. The miton sharpens all senses." She shrank back, terror blanching her 
face. "It's a search-party come looking for me, and they are heading for the eastern 
shore." 
"By the Flower!" Immu growled. "They have cut us off. If we had only arrived 
sooner." 
"They must not take me! Is there no other way down?" 
Immu screwed her face into a scowl as she thought. "Down down down. I know 
only the one way." But then her expression changed, and she seized the girl by the 

shoulder with one small taloned hand, while the other pointed over the side of the 
boat. "But they might know another." 
"The rimoriks?" Anigel whispered. 
"Try them," Immu snapped. 
The Princess leaned over the gunwale. The traces of the harness that the watercreatures 
wore had been greatly lengthened for lake travel, and the water here was 
deep. The rimoriks were out of sight, seeking coolness. 
My friends. I have a most Important thing to ask you. 
First one dark shape appeared, then another. The two sleek green-spotted heads 
lifted out of the water with hardly a ripple and the animals bared their fangs in a 
manner that Anigel had once thought ferocious, but now knew to be their fashion 
of smiling. 
Human friend, ask your question. 
Do you know where we are now? 
Certainly. On the brink of the Great White Falling Water. Do you have any other 
questions? 
Is there a way down? Into the Great Mutar River? 
Yes. There is a way from the Wide Flat Water into the Water Flowing to the Sea. 
"Immu!" the Princess cried. "They say there is a way!" 
"Ask them if they can take us." Immu's voice was strained, harsh. 
Can you take us down there in the boat? 

If you wish it. 
There are evil humans on other boats round about the island over there. Can you 
take us so that they can't catch us? 
Oh, yes. Do you wish to go now? If so, we must first share miton. 
"They say yes!" Anigel exclaimed, radiant with joy. "They want to know if we'd 
like to go now! Oh, it's wonderful. What should I tell them, Immu?" 
The Oddling woman's great yellow eyes blinked slowly. Her gaze was fixed on 
that of the human whom she loved, seeing the once delicate skin now sunburned 
and insect-bitten, the hair that used to be compared to spun gold now turned to 
frowsy straw, the blue eyes, once brimming with fear, now eagerly aglitter… 
"My sweet child, of course you must tell them to take us." Having spoken, Immu 
calmly set about repacking the food, then tied their two packs by the cords to one 
of the punt thwarts. 
Anigel had taken the miton gourd from her belt-wallet. Sipping first, she then 
shared the liquid with the rimoriks. "Now we are ready. Take your place, Immu." 
The Princess returned to the driver's thwart in the bows of the punt and took up 
the reins, wrapping the leather straps once about each well-calloused hand to keep 
a good grip. Her mind called out: 
My friends, let's go! 
The two powerful beasts submerged, thrust forward with their clawed flippers, 
and hauled the long slim boat out of its hiding place and into the open lake. 
Tracing a long curved path, swimming with all their prodigious strength, they 
turned south — heading straight through the Fangs of Munjuno toward the brink 
of the huge waterfall. 
Leaning on the stone rail, Prince Antar watched his knights and the men-at-arms 
disembark from the punts and begin to spread out along the skid-road. He and the 

Blue Voice and the limping Sir Penapat had taken up a position in the loftiest 
structure of Tass Town, a lighthouse about fifteen ells high on the western side of 
the small island settlement. 
The Prince and the knight stripped to tunic and buskins because of the heat, and 
surveyed the scene from the outer parapet of the lighthouse, while the skinny Blue 
Voice was not only robed but hooded, seated upon a stool next to the great unlit 
lamp while his farseeing mind's eye followed the deployment of the forces on 
shore. 
"I wouldn't like to live here," Penapat said. 
"Why not, Peni?" Antar was idly scanning the roofs below, from which only a few 
threads of smoke arose. Lord Zontil had told him that most of the population save 
for the log-raft sailors abandoned Tass Town during the rainy seasons. The war 
had simply started the exodus sooner. 
"Too noisy," the big man stated. "The waterfall. Hurts my teeth." 
"Your teeth —" 
"Can't you feel it? A sound that's so deep it's hardly a noise at all. It comes up 
through the rock and makes the whole lighthouse shake, and my body too, and 
hurts my teeth." 
Antar began to laugh — and then he suddenly cut short, having caught a glimpse 
of something out on the water. "My God!" he breathed. "Peni, will you look out 
there? Do you see what I see?" 
"A little boat," Penapat affirmed. The big man's expression was sweetly quizzical. 
"It shouldn't be going beyond those rocks. The trader said there's a strong current 
out there, that'll take you over the falls." 
"Blue!" roared the Prince. "Get out here, quickly!" 
The Blue Voice rose with evident reluctance, only to be dragged unceremoniously 

to the lighthouse rail by Antar, who pointed out the vagrant punt. 
"That boat! Who's in it?" Antar demanded. 
The Blue Voice pursed his lips. "You roused me from my trance, Prince. That's a 
most dangerous thing to do — " 
Antar's hand, which was very strong, tightened on the scrawny blue-clad bicep. 
"The boat, you worram-scat! Quickly!" 
The clairvoyant's eye-sockets were abruptly black and empty. His thin lips 
trembled. "My Lord — I—I can't tell who rides within." 
"Anigel!" the Prince cried. "It's the Princess!" 
The punt, moving with astonishing speed, was now well beyond the Fangs. There 
were two small figures in it, one far forward and stiffly upright, the other huddled 
amidships. A light breeze had sprung up, wafting away the mist that curtained the 
lip of the cataract. It could now be seen clearly from the lighthouse, a nearly 
straight line of blue-black, fringed at the fatal edge with white. Beyond it was a 
void of sky and distant, haze-shrouded trees. 
As Antar watched, the racing punt seemed for a moment to be preceded by two 
dark forms arching through the spume at the brink. Then the slender vessel 
hovered for an instant, its front half in thin air, its stern still supported by water, 
before it tilted and slid out of sight. 
Chapter Twenty-Five 
The lammergeier flew tirelessly over the peaks and icefields of the high Ohogans, 
so high that Har-amis found the clear thin air difficult to breathe. She became 
drowsy not long after the huge bird left Movis, and was content to snuggle down 
within her thick fur cloak, sheltered deep in the feathered hollow between the 
lammergeier's wings, and sleep. 
She was unaware of their passage over Mount Rotolo and the slow approach to 

towering Mount Gidris, which was enshrouded in thick clouds. The lammergeier 
breasted strong winds for hour after hour, but by nightfall it still had not reached 
its goal. 
Haramis woke when it began to descend through thickly falling snow. As the 
Vispi had taught her, she first brought to mind a clear picture of the creature's 
striking black-and-white crested visage, with the glittering eyes like polished jet 
and a great beak edged with sharp teeth. Then her mind spoke its name: Hiluro! 
I hear, Haramis. 
She heard its reply in a place in her mind that Magira had patiently taught her to 
use. Haramis had found learning the speech without words a strange experience; 
her first attempts had been complete failures. Then, almost by accident, she had 
managed to bespeak Magira. After several more semi-accidental successes, she 
had worked out what she was doing, and after that the process was simple, almost 
automatic. One simply rendered this part of the mind "open" after first calling out 
mentally to the desired person. After Haramis had learned to bespeak reliably, 
Magira introduced her to the lammergeier who would become both mount and 
companion in the next stage of her quest. 
The great bird had glided down and landed on the slate roof at Magira's 
summoning. Its wingspan was as wide as the house, and its gigantic black-taloned 
feet could have seized a full-grown man in armor with the ease of a night-caroler 
snatching a tree-vart. But for all its ferocious demeanour, the colossal flyer had 
greeted Magira with greathearted affection. 
I tell you now one of the great secrets of the mountain Folk, Magira had said to the 
Princess, stroking the lowered head of the bird. You know that we were made for 
lands all girt about with ice and snow—but so were these great creatures. When 
the Vanished Ones refashioned the abominable flesh of the Foundation Stock into 
the First Folk, they engendered at the same time the voor, which you humans call 
lammergeiers, from a lesser sort of bird. Folk and voor were thus newborn upon 
the world together, since the Vanished Ones knew we Vispi would need helpers in 
order to move about over a world locked fast in ice. Our towns are few and widely 
separated, but with the help of our great friends, we journey over the long 
distances in safety. As you shall, in fulfilling your quest… 

The lammergeier, landing with confidence in spite of the blowing snow, pecked 
with its great beak at the white frozen cliff-face, whereupon the ice cracked and 
revealed a dark opening. 
"Is this the place where my Three-Winged Circle is hidden?" Haramis asked. 
No. This is shelter for the night. We both need food and rest, and you will be safe 
here while I hunt. I shall return soon. Hiluro lofted back into the sky. 
Haramis drew out her Black Trillium amulet from her bodice. It glowed like a 
lantern, casting light ahead as she stepped over broken bits of ice into the cavern. 
It was a huge place, mostly dry, although the wind swept flurries of snow in after 
her. Several tumbled blocks of dark stone all shot through with thick veins of 
white quartz mingled with another material reflected back the amulet's warm 
glow. Haramis realized she was looking at a lode of gold. 
The Princess left her pack and wandered for some time by the light of her amulet, 
finding outcroppings of gold everywhere, and sometimes great nuggets lying on 
the floor. 
But it was far at the back of the cavern that she made her most interesting 
discovery. 
Within a rough alcove, the amulet's golden light had flickered on something very 
dark and shiny, and when she approached she found a wall of perfectly smooth 
black ice, in which she saw herself, holding the glowing amulet. 
An ice mirror… 
And was it not some such thing that the sorcerer Orogastus was rumored to use for 
scrying? 
She asked the question of her image within the dark ice, a tall and beautiful young 
woman whose pale face, framed in black hair, was haloed in the white fur of her 
mantle's hood. The glowing amulet at her throat had a reflective radiance that 

drew back her eyes whenever she would look away. 
She stared at the amulet's golden glow, and it seemed that her vision swam, and 
the image of herself became that of another: a man, attired in strange robes and 
crowned with a headpiece like a great silver star. He smiled at her and held out his 
hand, offering to show her his secrets, to share his knowledge, his magic… 
Haramis 
"Orogastus," she whispered, petrified with sudden recognition. He seemed to 
reach out to her, through the mirror of black ice — 
Haramis! 
The mental call was inhuman, familiar, urgent. 
Hiluro? 
Haramis, come back. Now! 
She saw her own face again reflected in the sheet of ice. Chilled to the bone, she 
turned and hurried back to reassure Hiluro, whose calling of her name by the 
speech without words still resounded in her head, driving away all other thoughts. 
Chapter Twenty-Six 
Jagun made no attempt to start a fire. Instead he stood with his hands hanging by 
his side. He might have been one who had come to the end of a trail to find 
nothing but a wall over which there was no climbing. Kadiya watched him 
uneasily. This was a Jagun she had never seen before. 
She was about to ask him what was the matter when he turned quickly and clawed 
and fought his way up to her, to the top of that bowl-like opening. Slowly he 
paced around the broad rim, but he did not look down at the path his feet 
followed; instead his head was up, turning slowly from side to side, his tense body 
expressing the need to hear, to see, to know. When he completed the circle he 

came back to her and she asked: 
"What is it, Jagun?" 
For a moment she thought he would not answer. The he raised his head to face her 
squarely. 
"Farseer, for us all there are hidden things. This is a strange land, as much so to 
me as to you. But I think we come now to an even stranger one." 
"There is something to be feared?" she demanded. 
"I do not know." Now he drew his bag to him and rummaged quickly in it, 
bringing out food — some dry cakes and two small smoked fish so brittle that 
they broke when touched. Again Kadiya wondered over the lack of fire but some 
caution kept her from asking. Though night in this water-logged country was apt 
to be dank she did not feel that chill now. Rather it was as if the bowl still held 
about them a little of the sun's heat. 
The full burden of the day settled upon her. Although thought about the larvae and 
those poisonous balls they had passed flitted through the sudden descent of 
fatigue, she could not raise energy to suggest guard duty. The sensation of safety 
which had closed about her when she had first climbed up here was like a warm 
robe promising sleep without fear. 
Did she sleep or did she wake? She could not have truthfully sworn to either. As 
the night darkened and drifts of mist floated over their heads from one side of the 
bowl to the other, she lay quietly. 
Their root-guide she had set up by her head, butt in drift of soil, black tip up. 
There was no flame from that. However, it was not completely dark after all. She 
was first aware of a shimmer which she could catch only in the corners of her 
eyes. If she shifted quickly to view it, it disappeared, or seemed to move enough 
out of sight to remain only a suggestion. 
So it went for a time. Then those shimmers rooted themselves. They were at least 

as tall as Jagun, thin pillars in which swirled faint colors, so pallid that one hue 
might hardly be distinguished from another. 
At first they only stood still, not in any pattern Kadiya could discern; then they 
wavered and floated free. She could not understand why they moved so, but she 
was sure they were weaving an intricate pattern whereof she and Jagun were the 
heart. Yet no fear stirred in her. Finally she did not see the pillars anymore, except 
as a whirling mist which spun slowly about the opposite slope of the bowl. 
The mist glowed, and within it she saw a beautiful city—-the same city she had 
dreamt of before reaching Noth! It seemed also that she had once known that city 
and found happiness and contentment there, and she wanted nothing more than to 
go seeking it. 
Somewhere there was singing, a music different from any that a Ruwendian bard 
could draw from a harp, raising in Kadiya a new longing. And then the vision 
disappeared. 
Kadiya sat up, suddenly chilled, her hands going to her amulet. That feeling of 
being guarded and comforted was gone. Instead she had a sudden vivid mental 
glimpse of the diseased land through which they had come to this place… and 
then she realized that it was early morning. 
There was movement nearby. Jagun stood ready for the trail, beckoning to her, 
that strange bleak look still on his face. Kadiya arose, took up the root, shouldered 
her bag, and prepared to set off once again. The two wayfarers looked down and 
away from the great mound which enclosed the bowl. Swamp mist swirled about, 
and there seemed to be no sign of a rising sun to burn it away. In Kadiya's hand 
the trillium-root came to life, slipped easily through her fingers and started to 
glide downhill on the slope opposite that which they had yesterday climbed. 
"We go." Jagun's voice held as little expression as his face and he said nothing of 
food — rather pointed on toward more of the tall thorn-ferns and the bulbous 
horrors which had taken root among them. They trudged on, slowing as they wove 
a zig-zag path to avoid the poisonous balls. 
After a time they came to an open space carpeted with a furry yellow scum. There 

were no trees here, only a series of columnar projections, almost like miniature 
clay towers, leading out into what looked like a cleared and leveled field 
stretching ahead of them. But Jagun warned her that it was a quickmire. A single 
misstep here and one would be swallowed forever. 
Jagun delved into his hunter's bag and drew out a packet. Freed of its ties, it 
proved to be four dish-like ovals. Once released from their fastenings the ovals 
opened, took on thickness in the humid air, and became boat-shaped leaves 
curling up about their outer edges. Skimmers, the hunters called them. 
Kadiya had used these before, always cautiously, and only when she was with 
Jagun. Seating herself on a rounded outcrop she made fast the lashings of the 
skimmers around her ankles. She stamped to test the tightness of the cording 
before she started carefully after Jagun, making sure she followed his path. The 
root-guide had already slipped out ahead of him upon that treacherous ground. 
Under her feet Kadiya was aware of the give in the surface, and their pace was 
now swift. Always flanking them were the lumpy columns, taller than either she 
or Jagun. 
The mist swirled so thickly now that she caught only a very hazy glimpse of the 
shore of the Thorny Hell from which they had set out. Sometimes even the stubby 
pillars were nearly blotted out. As they went on, she became aware that the 
footing became steadily more secure. Then suddenly a large veil of mist hovered 
as if it had been caught on something, and then freed itself, and drifted away. 
The last of the pillars was revealed. Only it was not a pillar. Chunks of mud as 
hard as if baked had scaled away, and what stood there was unmistakenly a figure 
— though certainly no monstrous one. 
It had been made to represent no Oddling. The proportions were as human as her 
own, although the image was masculine. Save for an elaborate crown-helm and 
three scarves or belts the statue wore no clothing. The belts were drawn one over 
each shoulder, crossing on the breast and ending in a wide waist belt latched 
together. The body itself was of an ivory shade and possessed a sheen as if highly 
polished. Scarves and belt were covered by small flakes or scales, green, gold, 
blue, shaded from the palest to the darkest in each hue. 

It was what was gripped in the image's outstretched hands which drew and held 
their eyes. 
Kadiya had seen great savagery in the days just past. But the severed head that the 
figure held was so foreign to the feeling that the rest of the statue aroused that it 
startled and sickened her. For that was the head of no Skritek nor Oddling. In spite 
of the fact that it was utterly hairless and the rounded skull bulged overmuch, it 
might have been the head of a man of her own kind! 
She moved a little away, the better to see the face of the statue, expecting 
somehow to witness there a fierce countenance such as the Labornoki had worn 
when they dabbled in horrors at the Citadel. 
But the face overshadowed by the elaborate helm was calm, full of strength and 
serenity. The image might have been fashioned as a dire warning, or a monument 
to some victory; but the longer Kadiya looked at those eyes—which stared to her 
right, as the head was slightly turned — the more she was sure that what she saw 
signified some ancient justice, intended to stand as a warning for all time. 
The eyes themselves were not blank carving. Instead the hollows were inset with 
dark stones and in each, even as in the heart of the Black Trillium flower, there 
was a hint of gold. 
"The sindona!" Jagun sprang back a little from the statue. "This is the Forbidden 
Way!" He wore an expression of awe which held more than a tinge of fear. 
Kadiya's eyes did not leave those of the figure. "Who?" 
Jagun did not answer her. Instead he stooped and caught up one of the shards of 
baked mud which had plainly been scraped from the figure. 
"This was done not long ago. But —not by the Skritek. They would not lay claw 
to this! Then who?" 
"Please, what does this statue represent?" Kadiya raised her voice. 

Jagun blinked. "Sentinels of the Vanished Ones — they who could command the 
earth and water…" His words trailed off as he caught Kadiya's arm. 
"Look!" 
Resting on a nearby chunk of the hard mud lay the trillium-root. Its small candle 
was aflame, pointing not in the direction they had been traveling but that in which 
the figure was looking. Jagun sank the butt of his spear into the yellow muck. It 
penetrated for about a finger's length and then met resistance, though the surface 
looked no different from the morass they had transversed so carefully. Kadiya 
watched as the hunter moved on, tapping the end of the spear before him. The root 
wavered back and forth as if it wanted to take the path Jagun followed, but would 
not leave Kadiya behind. 
Magic — all magic! Her old impatience flared. But so far the guide had not played 
them false. Though she inwardly shrank, the Princess strode behind the hunter in 
this new direction. The skimmer-leaves sank a fraction under her weight but no 
more, and the root raced ahead as might a hound unleashed. 
At length the yellow morass was broken here and there by what might once have 
been pavement. They came through the last of the thinning mist to a place covered 
with clean, coarse turf such as grew in the polders to the northeast. There was a 
straggle of other vegetation and Kadiya gained smarting thorn scratches as she 
took the trillium-root into her hand. 
Her back and legs ached with a steady pain, for she had unconsciously tensed her 
body through all their journey over the morass. Now she stumbled twice and then 
went to her knees. Jagun was beside her at once, water-bottle in hand. Kadiya 
gulped gratefully and then sank down to rest among the tussocks of grass. In less 
than a minute she was asleep. 
Light shining in her eyes awoke her and she stared up at the open sky, bewildered. 
She had dreamt she was in her own chamber in the ladies' tower of the Citadel. 
But there was no carven roof above her. She sat up and groaned at the stiffness in 
her back. 
Trees surrounded the turfed area where she lay. Their smooth trunks were 

greenish bronze and their green-edged, bluish leaves rustled at the tug of a breeze. 
She was alone, though Jagun's pack lay in sight. A blabat bird perched on an 
arched stem of bramble, snatching at a bright red berry. It paid no attention as 
Kadiya got to her feet and stretched. The trillium-root was planted stem-up near 
where her head had lain and it was quivering. 
"Na… na… na…" 
That sound the girl recognized at once. The Nyssomu were never loud or free of 
speech, but they sometimes voiced a croon of content. Jagun rounded a big 
bramble bush, carrying in one hand a vine from which hung some oval scarlet 
fruit, swollen near to the bursting point with ripeness. 
Kadiya nearly swallowed the first fruit whole, and had a second ready to eat 
before she was able to ask a question. 
"Where are we?" 
Jagun was carefully peeling more of his spoil, a long length of sweet-cane. He 
shrugged, indicating that he did not know. The girl was so used to crediting him 
with all Mire knowledge that she could not believe they were lost. He chewed a 
bit of cane core and then spit out the pith which had been drained of its sugary 
juice. 
"We are beyond all trails I know, Farseer. I know only that there is stone under 
this." He thumped the turf with the end of the cane. "And that," he nodded to the 
upstanding root-guide, "has brought us here." 
"More ruins." 
Laying aside his piece of cane, Jagun carefully used his knife, levering up a patch 
of sod. Beneath was indeed a dark-stained stone surface. "A roadway. That is 
what this is." He gestured ahead, where there was an opening in the trees. 
"A road made by the sindona?" 

Jagun looked away from her. Instead he stared at the hole he had dug as if the 
uncovering had been a mistake. 
He spoke hesitatingly with pauses between his words, as if the in-formation came 
from him unwillingly. "The Vanished Ones —and with them, their sentinels, the 
sindona — once ruled the water and the isles. We were of their making, fashioned 
by their minds and their hands. The Dark Powers arose and there was death in the 
land. But before the ancient ones left they called us forth and told us that we were 
free. Only certain oaths they asked of us…" 
Jagun looked down at the knife in his hands, turning it over and over. 
"The sindona remain to watch over what was left by the Vanished Ones. There 
were certain things —and certain knowledge which they could not take away with 
them, nor were they able to destroy it. This roadway" — he waved to the rows of 
clay-covered sentinels — "leads to one such guarded place." 
He dropped the sod he had dug up back into its hole. "King's Daughter, your 
Father had Oathed Companions who served him even unto death. Though we Folk 
owe allegiance elsewhere, our oaths bind us as fast. But Farseer, I have now 
broken that vow! Yonder, through those trees, lies the Forbidden Way. Last night 
I sent forth the Great Call. There was no answer. I could not link with any scout of 
the Folk. We have come past the barrier set up for my own race. That goes" — he 
pointed to the root with his knife — "and you must follow. I do not know if I will 
be able to accompany you. I thought we were going to the Uisgu, but instead we 
are here. And someone uncovered the Captain of the Sentries — Lamaril, the 
great one not even the Skritek would dare to front… No, I had no answer to my 
call. But yonder" — again he waved the bared steel, and even under the faint sun 
it gave off an ominous glint — "there was a fire in the night. Off in those trees, 
along the Forbidden Way." 
Kadiya was startled. "I slept…" 
For the first time Jagun looked less grim. "Farseer, you slept part of a day, and all 
the night which followed. This is the second day." 
She frowned. "You should have awakened me." 

"Not so. What lies before us I do not know, save perhaps it may be greater peril 
than we have yet faced. Any hunter would choose fronting a Skritek over traveling 
the Forbidden Way. You need to face the future with all possible strength of mind 
and body, and so I let you sleep." 
"This fire you saw…" 
Jagun looked grim. "The fires our people use are small. What I saw was great. To 
feed it must have been a task for many hands." 
"Voltrik's men?" 
"If so they await where that," he gestured to the root, "would lead us." The two of 
them walked on in silence, but it was clear that Jagun was becoming more and 
more agitated. 
Kadiya was also unnerved. She was almost ready to snap the little guide in two. 
Only she could not destroy it. She was ensnared by the Archimage's magic and her 
quest for the talisman, the mysterious Three-Lobed Burning Eye, and she could 
not gainsay it. 
Suddenly Jagun gave a loud cry and reached for his hunter's bag. From it he 
snatched a golden armlet inset with red stones. Only twice had Kadiya seen such a 
thing before: first when he had come to the Citadel to receive formal greeting 
from her Father; and again at a sing-chant of his people when he had worn a 
similar thing on his upper arm. He must have obtained the sacred object at the 
Nyssomu village. 
Now he turned it around in his hands, groaning as his fingers caressed its smooth 
surface. Then he grasped the armlet tightly, the straining muscles of his shoulders 
betraying the effort he made, his face a mask of dread. 
The armlet snapped. Jagun hurled the pieces from him. An eerie warbling sound 
issued from his lips. That, too, she had heard, always when one of his own clan 
had died and the raft bearing the body had been poled away to the secret place of 
interment. 

"Jagun?" she ventured. 
His face had stiffened. 
Never had she viewed such coldness in his expression. 
"Jagun is dead," he told her tonelessly. "This one is no longer named. I am oath 
breaker, castoff of Kin, one who cannot Speak and to whom none will Speak 
again. We go to break the forbidden silence. The Lady of Noth has the right to 
wring the life from us." 
"When we follow her own guide?" Kadiya demanded hotly. Did he hold her at 
fault when it was certainly none of her doing? Against her breast the amulet 
heated. "I am going on!" she cried. But an instant later she stumbled and caught 
her balance with an effort. The feeling that flooded through her was so alien that 
she tried to scream and found she could not make a sound. For that single moment 
she had a sensation of such overwhelming fear that it shook her whole body. 
Fear of what? she demanded of herself. She caught at a nearby bush to steady 
herself. As ever, fear awoke rage in her. 
Dagger out, she turned around. Near her Jagun lay on the turf which covered the 
ancient roadway. His thin fingers clawed feebly at his chest and he was breathing 
in short fluttering gasps. 
"Jagun!" Kadiya went to her knees beside him. His mouth opened and a trickle of 
moisture oozed from one corner. 
"Back!" His voice was only a thread of sound. He threw out his arms in a frantic 
gesture and strove to pull himself upright. "Take me… back!" 
Kadiya sheathed her dagger and took him by the shoulders. Exerting her full 
strength she pulled him a full fifty ells along the turf, back from that ancient 
roadway which the root-guide urged her to follow. 

The root had halted, but it wavered as if beckoning her on. Her own fear was now 
gone as if a door had been shut. She caught at her amulet. It was blazing with 
color and warmth, but not as if it were giving forth a threat. Instead, it seemed to 
encourage her. 
Wind arose, coming at them through the trees. Jagun coughed and levered himself 
up to a sitting position. 
"A barrier— " the hunter wheezed. "I cannot go that Way." His head drooped 
forward. There was a blankness now on his face. He faced something which was 
beyond his power to fight and he had no weapon left. 
"Farseer— " There was pain in his voice. "It is forbidden— only you can go on 
alone. But I swear that if there is a way I may come to you, I shall discover it!" 
"I — " Now it was her lips which had frozen. "Jagun—take care." 
His hand went up in a gesture of reassurance and encouragement. Then he turned 
and crept away, and after a time got to his feet and waved to her. She guessed that 
he would indeed range wide to discover whether there was a way past that which 
held them apart. 
There was movement in the grass. The root was switching back and forth as if 
expressing exasperation, beckoning her on to action. 
She shouldered Jagun's bag and unwillingly and with a lagging step she followed 
her root-guide forward into the trees. There was a nauseating whiff of something 
in the wind which now blew steadily at her, a stench which was neither like that of 
the Skritek, nor the bog. Twice she looked back hoping to catch sight of Jagun, 
but he was not to be seen. 
However, there was something ahead, a dull gleam at the foot of one of the trees. 
She stooped to pick up an arrow, well made, with a shaft and feathering the color 
of dried blood. She had seen such before, yes… and during the siege had helped to 
gather all which had not hit marks or shattered against walls, to replenish the 
stocks of archers at the Citadel. This arrow was not of the swamp but of the 

intruders! How had it come here? And why did it lay so balanced — as if, like her 
root, it was a guide? 
She nearly threw it from her and then thought more clearly. It took but a moment 
to replace it, with the point set in the opposite direction. 
How had the Labornoki been able to pass the barrier which had defeated Jagun? 
Her amulet must have been the key for her—but Hamil's men, what did they carry 
except the steel they had already so foully bloodied? Was this more of Orogastus's 
dark magic? 
Within a couple of strides she came upon the impression of a boot in a wet patch 
of earth. And beyond that —Kadiya fought down the rise of bile in her throat as 
she saw a dead Skritek lying to one side as if the body had been kicked out of the 
way. The creature bore no wound that she could see, and there was no puddling of 
blood. 
She turned determinedly away and continued on, counting steps under her breath, 
trying very hard to keep her attention alert to all which lay about her. Then a new 
noxious odor fouled the air. She looked to the right. An Oddling, its thick body 
pelt revealing it to be Uisgu, was bound to a tree. This time there was evidence of 
how death had come and it had not been easy. 
Not far beyond the first Uisgu victim, there was further disturbance of the ground, 
and the smell of fire was strong. Bushes were torn from the ground, and the turf 
was scuffed up. There she found another tortured Oddling. She could not make 
herself look closely, until there came a thin cry, and she was forced to go to the 
Uisgu. A crooked hand strove to rise, an eye looked at her from a broken face. 
Once more Kadiya called upon the brace of anger. 
"Who did this thing?" She hesitated — how could she ease such terrible hurts? 
She had nothing… 
The hand moved. It would seem that the wounded mouth could no longer shape 
words. The Uisgu made a greater effort: a small gesture toward her knife. 

At last she was able to guess the nature of his plea. Kadiya's heart raced. She had 
always been fascinated by weapons, and had once or twice indulged in swordplay 
when she could get the Master-at-Arms into a good mood. Jagun had also taught 
her Oddling knife-tricks — but this she was not prepared for. 
Once more that faint cry, the small gesture… 
Kadiya set her mouth firmly and took her dagger hilt in both hands. Something 
else came to mind, words she had heard Jagun say when he had found a strayed 
fronial so entrapped in a suck-vise it could not be freed. 
"Go safely beyond…" She brought down her blade and felt it enter living flesh. 
Then she swallowed and swallowed again. 
Getting to her feet the girl stumbled on, wanting to be away, free. Yet when she 
glanced down she saw the root-guide still sliding ahead. That she went into danger 
she could guess, and her preparation for it was as woefully small as had been 
those of the Citadel garrison when the invaders had stormed in upon them. 
She became aware of mist gathering between the trees ahead, edging out now and 
then into a tongue of fog. The root bore steadily onward. She was startled when 
the tip of the trillium-root lifted, blazed green, and then spun to the left, now 
pointing between two of the largest trees she had yet come upon. 
There was a thin, high-pitched whistle. Kadiya instinctively leaped to one side as 
something struck the trunk of the tree just ahead of her. A spiral of thick and oily 
smoke arose, and she threw herself belly down and thrust her way, in spite of the 
pain, into the shelter of a great bramble-bush. 
Again came the whistling cry, followed by what might have been a muffled 
answer. Kadiya was caught face down on the ground by Jagun's bag, which had 
snagged on a bramble. Aroused to a frenzy, she fought to free herself. Smoke 
blew into her face and she choked and then coughed without relief. But that deeplunged 
coughing saved her. The brambles gave away as she struggled and she fell 
forward into what seemed like a dark hole. Her out flung hand scraped against 
stone, not bark or branches. 

As the hunting cry sounded for the third time behind her, she wormed forward 
into the dark. In her panic, one part of her thought she might be pushing into a 
trap, yet she continued to crawl ahead. 
Any moment she expected her pursuers to catch up, to seize her by the ankles and 
pull her out of this hole as a sucbri could be jerked from its shell by a skilled hand. 
Somehow she managed to keep going until her outreaching hands met only 
emptiness and she plunged down and down… 
Water closed about her and with it light. But this was not the turbid murky liquid 
of the swamp pools. It was crystal clear, except nearest her own body where 
swirled the muck and soil she had picked up during her crawl. Though Jagun's bag 
pulled her down she refused to rid herself of it. Rather she kicked and fought her 
way to the surface. A gleam of green caught her eye. So she had not lost her 
guide! The root was swimming before her. 
There was a wall about this pool, over which she splashed and struggled into the 
air. She crept on hands and knees over a pavement of metallic blue mosaic. There 
was no growth of weed, nothing to sully the pool and the limpid water it held. 
Before her was a flight of stairs, on either side of which stood ranks of statues. 
She got to her feet. The utter silence of this new place struck her first. Once she 
had pulled herself out of the water and her own splashing ceased, the smooth 
surface of the pool was undisturbed. 
Kadiya ventured to look up the flight of stairs. There was not a hint of greenery to 
be seen — only the rows of statues that Jagun had named sindona. The light which 
appeared to pour into this place struck an eye-tormenting glitter from the 
ornamentation on the motionless figures. Not all the sindona who seemed to 
regard her so calmly were male, yet they were clad alike. And there was about 
them such a feeling of life that she would not have been surprised had they moved 
and spoke — perhaps to refuse her entrance, perhaps to bid her welcome. 
She looked down at her bruised and scratched body, the tattered Nyssomu 
garments which had not survived too well her battle with the wilderness. 
Strangely, she felt renewed, stronger. She wanted to press on to see this place, of 
which no legend or traveler's tale had ever spoken. 

At the top of the stairway Kadiya paused before one of the figures. It was taller 
than she — perhaps life-size for the race whose hands had modeled it. She looked 
up into the face beneath the shadow of the helm. 
"Who are you?" Her words sounded abrupt, too demanding for this place of 
silence and beauty. And how could she expect any answer from the silent 
sentinel? 
Of course there could be no answer. Nevertheless she was aware of an odd sound, 
as if a deadening curtain had been pulled aside. There came a crystal tone as if 
small bells chimed. Birds twittered, and a breeze wove a breath of scent about her 
which banished the last of that choking horror which had driven her into cover. 
She looked further. Here was another flight of stairs even wider, but without the 
guardian figures, and it led up and out into such a stretch of parkland that no one 
born in the swamps encircling Ruwenda might have imagined. It was a place of 
rich and paradoxical growth. Unfamiliar kinds of ripe fruit hung beside the very 
blossoms from which they developed. Above was an azure sky. So enchanted did 
the garden seem, so enwrapped in magic that Kadiya dared not venture into it. On 
the top step of the second stairway lay the root-guide, the green halo at its point 
sparkling as if it had been fashioned from an emerald. 
Kadiya blinked, and blinked again. She was no longer alone. 
The one coming across the garden to meet her was plainly one of the statue 
people, even though helm and military belts had been exchanged for a gauzy robe. 
Woman — truly? Kadiya could not have said. But she knew that here was one to 
whom even the Archimage would make obeisance. Princess Kadiya sank to her 
knees. 
"Daughter of the Threefold, what have your people done that the great balance of 
the world no longer holds firm? That death and pain have come into this —the last 
stronghold?" 

Kadiya could not believe that she was actually being accused—it was only that 
this being wanted the truth. Slowly, Kadiya arose. 
"Firstly" — she strove to give her words the same easiness that the other's held 
—"I am the daughter of King Krain of Ruwenda. Those of Labornok, under 
Voltrik, using treachery and force of arms, and above all, the talents of an evil 
sorcerer, have laid waste my country. By the aid of the Nyssomu hunter Jagun I 
escaped from the Citadel at its fall. Then I went to the Archimage who rules at 
Noth, and this was given to me." She picked up the root and held it out. "On me 
she set also a solemn task — that I must search for a certain talisman. It has been 
foretold that only through a woman of our house may justice be wrought for 
Ruwenda. The Archimage named me and my sisters Petals of the Living Trillium. 
There are three of us — although I am not sure now that the others still live. And 
this small trillium-root has led me here." 
"The Archimage of Noth," the robed one said slowly. "It has been long years since 
she sent one here to the Place of Knowledge. But if she does, we can well believe 
that there are shadows abroad in the land. By the ancient ways life must here be so 
— " The stranger held out one hand horizontally and set the other under it 
vertically. "Dealing with the Dark Powers upsets the balance. Once before this 
happened, and there was a mighty battle and a rending of the earth. Dry land 
became water, water became land, and the Conquering Ice formed a shroud over 
all." 
Kadiya asked: "How did those of blood find the road to this place, and pass the 
barrier which holds back the Nyssomu?" 
"King's Daughter, once the smallest opening is made in a wall, it may spread to a 
tumble of stone. This sorcerer you have spoken of as your enemy reaches high and 
has learned much. He has given certain protection to his followers which have 
proven keys for the unlocking of our ancient gates. King's Daughter"—the woman 
pointed to the root still in Kadiya's hand — "finish out your journey here. If the 
Archimage of Noth has chosen you, then you will indeed go into battle. Whether 
you stand alone or not, that will also come from your own actions." 
"There is no safety here in the Place of Knowledge?" 

"Not from what has come — for have I not been summoned by the threat of the 
Dark Powers?" Her head went up as if she listened. "So! They do not have quite 
as much power as they think. The secret way which led you here is closed and 
they must now cast back and forth blindly with their Skritek. The old protection 
holds after all." 
"What do they seek?" 
"That which they deem treasure, King's Daughter. But what the troops of 
Labornok and the Skritek are greedy for is not what moves their master. He seeks 
what is forbidden and his followers are greatly wearied. They would return to the 
Citadel without that which would appease him." 
"And what about the talisman that I seek?" Kadiya cried. She dropped the trilliumroot 
and it did not move; its color had faded. "Where is the Three Lobed Burning 
Eye that the Archimage commanded me to find?" 
"Look within you, King's Daughter — open wide your heart and mind." 
Kadiya stared. "I have no magical talisman! I have no army! I have not even a 
sword — " 
"All these exist, King's Daughter." There was a chill in that answer. "Look within 
yourself and you shall see!" 
And she was gone. 
Kadiya sank down onto her knees. Nothing in that wondrous garden charmed her 
now. She was spent, lost. Only the shriveled-looking root of the Black Trillium 
was left to her. 
Magic! She pounded both fists against the pavement until the pain of her bruised 
flesh broke through the consuming rage. Look within her, look within her! Within 
was fury! Leaning forward she snatched up the stem which had mocked her and 
led her to this useless place and strove to shred it between her fingers. But it 
resisted. 

One of three. 
Out of nowhere came the phrase which rang in her head. Kadiya looked up 
quickly. Had that sentinel-woman returned? No, only the silly garden lay before 
her and the worthless root-guide. 
With all her force the girl threw the root from her. It flew through the air with the 
precision of one of Jagun's darts, turning but once in flight so that it landed, root 
end down, upon a patch of open earth in front of her. There it stood upward, 
quivering a little. Kadiya scrambled up, thinking to finally crush it. But she held 
back. Before her eyes it was growing thicker, taller, wider. Wondering, Kadiya 
crouched before it, watching. Two smaller stems sprouted from near the top and 
straightened into bars. Below them the stem enlarged even more, forming a thick 
dark cylinder. At the very tip it budded—or so it seemed, for there three spheres 
grew, closely conjoined. 
Kadiya watched, amazed, hardly daring to believe what she now saw. There was 
movement in each of those spheres, a splitting of their black covering. What was 
revealed were — 
Three eyes. 
One was an eye of the Folk, yellow-green. One was gleaming brown — and 
Kadiya had only to look into a mirror to see its like in her own head. The third 
was silvery blue, with its pupil enormously wide, and in the depths a spark of 
golden fire. 
Her amulet burned at her breast. 
Before she could put hand to it the trillium amber sprang up as though it were a 
thing alive, and the golden chain about her neck broke, and the amulet flew 
toward the Three-Lobed Eye and became fixed at the place of the spheres' 
juncture. 
Even as those three eyes had opened, so they closed again, leaving three 
featureless black globes behind. The girl took hold of the stem just below their 

swell and above the outthrust leaves, then with a certainty that this is what must be 
done, she pulled. 
What she drew forth from the earth was not the root end of the broken plant, but a 
gleaming sword! And one whose hilt fitted so well into her hand that it might have 
been forged for her alone. Kadiya fingered the three spheres on the pommel. 
"The Three-Lobed Burning Eye." She was overcome with delight. But then she 
noted that the bright weapon was dulled at the edges and lacking a point! "Lords 
of the Air, what manner of sword is this? How can I use such a thing against my 
enemies?" 
A soft voice, hardly more than a breath in her ear, said: Learn. 
Chapter Twenty-Seven 
What are you doing?" Anigel shrieked to the racing rimoriks. "We cannot go this 
way—we will be killed!" 
But the animals made no reply and only swam faster, so that the boat fairly tore 
through the water and it was all the Princess could do to brace her feet against the 
bow-wood and hang onto the reins. Her mind refused to accept that these animal 
friends, these loyal creatures who had brought her so far, were now pulling the 
punt with her and Immu in it straight toward the brink of Tass Falls. 
Anigel saw the drop-off coming closer and closer. She was incapable of uttering a 
sound now, unable to form one single coherent thought that she might have flung 
at the minds of the rimoriks to turn them aside from their suicidal folly. Even the 
trillium amulet was out of reach, since the reins wound around her hands were so 
taut that she feared her arms might be yanked from their sockets. She thought not 
at all of Immu, so convinced was she that her own death was approaching. 
The sound of the waterfall grew to a roar. Air-borne droplets of water thrown up 
by the cascade soaked her clothing and her hair. Her eyes were locked on the 
approaching rim, where the flowing water changed from the near-black of the 
deep lake into a glorious medley of blue, aquamarine, green — and finally white. 
As the punt finally neared the brink it slowed abruptly. Anigel unwound the reins 

from her hands, threw them down, and gripped the gunwales. She gasped as two 
great dark bodies leapt up, throwing a shower of diamond-bright spray, and then 
plunged out of sight. 
The bow of the punt where she sat thrust out into mid-air. For an instant she was 
able to look down, beyond the tumult of whiteness that was the face of the 
cascade, and see a great azure pool with tiny buildings on the left hand shore. 
From the pool flowed a wide, many-channeled watercourse that shone like a silver 
braid in the high sunlight, winding away through the dark green expanse of the 
Tassaleyo Forest until it was lost in purple haze. 
She saw this picture with her keen eyes, and her mind seemed to hear Immu and 
the two rimoriks say: Trust! 
And then the punt tipped forward, and there was flying spray all around her and a 
hundred circular rainbows, and she began to fall through a terrible crashing white 
world that soon faded into blank nothingness. 
In the new dream her Mother, Queen Kalanthe, was walking swiftly along a path 
in an unfamiliar landscape that Anigel somehow recognized as a dry land forest, 
wearing her coronation robes and the awesome Crown of State. Anigel was a long 
distance behind, running to catch up with the Queen, crying out for her Mother to 
wait — but Kalanthe could not hear. There was nothing else to do but run faster, 
and Anigel did this with her heart thudding in her breast and her lungs burning 
and her legs hurting so badly that she would have cried out at each step except for 
lack of breath. She should have given up, thrown herself to the ground in despair, 
and let the Queen hurry away; but instead she forced herself to go on. 
And then the miracle: the Queen stopped, and turned, and waited smiling while 
the girl staggered up with the last of her strength and collapsed into her Mother's 
arms, weeping with happiness. 
"Dear little daughter," Kalanthe said. "I was so afraid you wouldn't come either. 
Your sisters have gone on other roads, you know. But all will be well now, just as 
soon as we get you ready." 
Then, amazingly, the dream-Queen led Anigel to a nearby brook, opened a velvet 

pouch, and took out soap and a soft cloth and an ivory comb. "We must clean you 
up," Kalanthe said, "and dress your hair, and find you rich robes to wear so your 
subjects will recognize you." 
The wash-cloth rubbed away at the dirt on Anigel's face. Rubbed harder and 
harder until the flesh stung and the Princess cried out — 
And woke up. 
She was lying on soft ground heavily carpeted with moss, near a riverbank. A tiny 
creature with striped yellow fur, a pointed face, and big black eyes was licking her 
cheek with its rough tongue. When she uttered a cry of surprise, the little thing 
squeaked in alarm and scuttled away into the dense undergrowth. An unfamiliar 
white bird was singing on the lowest branch of the tree she lay under, its complex 
song threading like a bright ribbon through the sound of distant thunder. The river 
a few ells away had numerous small channels flowing and intermingling on either 
side of a broad, twisting mainstream, and there were mudflats and low-lying 
islands everywhere. 
I'm alive! 
The realization came to her slowly, and she moved each arm and leg in turn, and 
her fingers, and then slowly sat up. Her woven-grass garment was in tatters, as 
was the worn linen shift beneath. Her feet were still shod in the Discerner's stout 
leather sandals, but her buskins were mostly torn to shreds. She still had her belt 
with its wallet attached, and the trillium amulet hung about her neck. Her skin was 
caked with mud but quite dry, which meant that she must have been lying on the 
bank for some time. She had no memory of how she had got there. 
Walking carefully over decaying driftwood, she went down to the riverside. From 
the water's edge she had a clear view upstream. Along the entire northern horizon 
was a high green rampart, rearing up out of the forest and cloven in two by a 
silvery swatch — the waterfall. It looked like it was at least a league away. The 
great blue pool at its base was not visible, nor were the buildings she had glimpsed 
momentarily before plunging over the brink. There was only the broad, shallow 
river, its flow dissected into scores of braided channels, and the dense forest on 
either bank, which had vivid blue-green foliage very different in hue and texture 

from the jungle woodlands of the Mazy Mire. Even the smell was different—- 
sharper, more resinous, with occasional whiffs of unfamiliar flower-fragrance. 
"I'm alive," she said, wonderingly. Then she flung out her scratched and mudsmeared 
bare arms and cried: "Alive!" 
In that same instant, guilt smote her. Immu! Where was Immu? And her two loyal 
rimorik friends? She peered up and down the riverbank, but saw only long-legged 
vermilion birds with spear like beaks, dabbling in the shallows. For a moment 
panic threatened to overwhelm her. She was alive, yes; but all alone in the 
Tassaleyo Forest with no notion of what to do next. 
Should she call out? What if the Labornoki searchers had followed her and were 
lurking somewhere, listening? There was no place she could go, no path along the 
bank, only the small clearing with its decaying driftwood, surrounded by dense 
shrubbery, and further inland the massive trunks of soaring trees. 
Were Immu and the animals dead? 
A terrible thought struck her. She recalled Immu's strange, almost resigned 
attitude as she repacked their lunch things back on the lake. Immu had tied the 
packs to the thwart! She had never done that before. Had she known what awful 
escape route the rimoriks would take? 
"Did she stay with me out of love," Anigel asked herself in a whisper, "hoping 
that I would survive the plunge, since I had been given rimorik-strength by the 
miton —but knowing that she would surely die?" She felt her heart contract. Oh, 
Immu. Dear old friend. 
But she mustn't start blubbering uselessly! It was time to get on with it… Why not 
take some of the sacred drink to build up strength, then try again to summon the 
rimoriks. 
She found a moss-covered rock in the shade, opened her wallet, and took out the 
scarlet gourd with its net covering. Removing the stopper and lifting it to her lips, 
she closed her eyes and uttered an unspoken prayer. Then her mind called: 
Friends! 

There was a sudden splash. 
She opened her eyes and saw two sleek heads out in the main river channel a 
stone's throw away. Rising, she waited for them to haul themselves over the shoals 
and rivulets, their glossy pelts getting more muddy with each awkward shove of 
their flippers. Finally the pair of rimoriks reached her and rested in the shallows, 
regarding her solemnly with huge black eyes. 
Human friend, we have searched for your friend of the swamp Folk. 
"Immu… did you find her?" 
No. We went a long way, looking. But the Water That Flows to the Sea is wide and 
has many backwaters where your friend's body might have been washed. 
Anigel's eyes stung and she pressed a knuckle to her lips to stifle a cry. "Her 
body!… You do not think she survived the falls?" 
We searched. We did not find her. Now it is time to go on. Your human enemies 
are coming down the Great Vine That Takes Trees to the Sky. They will catch you 
if we do not take you away. 
Anigel understood at once that the Labornoki were descending via the log-lift into 
the Great Mutar Valley. For a moment she was tempted to command the rimoriks 
to resume their search for Immu; but in her mind's eye she seemed to see her good 
old Oddling nurse shaking one taloned finger and scolding her. Was Immu's 
sacrifice going to be wasted? She had not died on a whim, to comfort an ordinary 
girl. Her great gesture was intended to show her loving support for a Princess on a 
quest, who must not shrink from facing the worst tragedies or dangers. Immu had 
gone bravely to her death. It was up to Anigel to press on, now that she was so 
close to her talisman. 
"Did you find the punt?" she asked the rimoriks. 
Your boat´s smashed into small pieces. We found your friend´s pack, but not 

yours. We have taken a boat belonging to the forest Folk. It is hidden over here. 
They waddled and wallowed downstream for a dozen ells before turning into the 
deeper water of a narrow creek. There was nothing for Anigel to do but wade into 
the river and follow them. The bottom-mud was as soft and tenacious as glue, and 
she dared not stop moving lest she sink down and become trapped. Splashing 
along frantically, she caught up with the rimoriks as they nosed a fairly large, 
oddly made watercraft out of the creek mouth into waist-deep water. 
It was perhaps twice as long as the wooden punt had been, but narrower in the 
beam. Its white frame looked like it was made of soft bone or ivory-wood, lashed 
together with dried sinews. The hull was translucent, hard but resilient, almost like 
dull, flexible glass. Pieces of this strange material were stitched together in nicely 
sewn patchwork and the seams smeared with some shiny, waterproof resin. The 
craft rode high in the water and must have been of negligible weight. 
Anigel flopped in. Immu's sodden pack lay on the bottom. "There are no reins, 
friends. And you seem to have lost your harnesses. How am I going to drive?" 
They grinned at her. This boat need not be pulled. It floats as easily as a dry 
seedpod. We will swim along on either side, pushing, and you shall tell us which 
way to go. 
The Princess settled herself and opened her belt-wallet. From it she took the 
unwilted leaf of the Black Trillium. For the first time, she noticed that the upper 
portions of the golden vein, those representing the part of her journey already 
completed, were beginning to fade to brown. Below a large tan spot that 
represented Lake Wum, the golden vein twisted and turned over a distance about 
as long as Anigel's little finger before entering the very short, sharply bent stem. 
"There is some distance to go yet," she told the animals, "but it seems to be 
entirely on the Great Mutar River. I suppose we must simply travel on as fast as 
we can, keeping ahead of the enemy soldiers, until I receive some magical sign." 
Do you wish us to take you to the forest Folk of the River? 
"Why—" Anigel hesitated. "I never thought of that. Perhaps you had better. Those 

would be the Wyvilo, I suppose. Do they have villages? " 
There is one place only where they live. We will take you there. 
"Very well," said the Princess. 
Growling and woofing with the effort of moving out of their element, the rimoriks 
nudged and shoved the boat over one mudflat after another, sliding it along 
through subsidiary streamlets whenever they could, until it finally reached the 
main channel. There the big creatures rolled about in the dark clean water for a 
few minutes in evident relief before settling in on either side and beginning the 
journey down-river. Without any urging from Anigel, they propelled the craft 
rapidly along. 
She guessed that it must be late afternoon. Opening Immu's drenched pack, the 
girl laid out her nurse's sleep-sack and a few pieces of extra clothing to dry. 
Fortunately, Anigel was a small person, so she would be able to use the things. 
There was a soft, wide-brimmed grass hat, a little leather raincloak, and an extra 
pair of buskins to wear under her sandals. The supply of trail-ration roots was now 
running very low and Anigel carefully set out the remaining ones to redry in the 
hot sun. The fruit leather had been eaten up long ago, and they had been living 
mostly upon wild fruit and nuts, augmented with the shared prey of the rimoriks. 
She would have to be very careful about sampling unknown plant-food. So many 
of the most tempting-looking things had been designated deadly poison by Immu. 
Thanks be to the Lords of the Air and Immu's ironshell fire-making kit (which 
would be serviceable again once the damp tinder dried out), she would be able to 
broil her fish instead of eating them raw. The rest of Anigel's treasury consisted of 
her own small knife and the other items in her wallet: a comb, a handkerchief that 
she rinsed out each day, a small cup, and a sliver of soap. 
"My riches, my royal robes, and my sumptuous foods," she declared, surveying 
the poor collection of things laid out on the bottom of the boat. "And two faithful 
retainers to stand by me. What more could any princess ask?" Sighing, she found 
a clear space in the bottom of the boat and lay down with the hat shading her face. 
My friends, I think I am going to sleep. 
They said: It is a good thing for you to do. 

Freed from the chore of driving for the first time since they had left Noth, Anigel 
fell into a dreamless doze, too weary even to mourn Immu. She woke hours later, 
when the rimoriks beached them on a small, narrow island where the grass grew 
in soft, clean sand instead of mud. The evening was very warm, but the island was 
swept by a cool breeze that kept the stinging insects at bay. The bed of the Great 
Mutar had widened as they traveled downstream and now was almost too wide to 
see across. The forest on both sides was nearly lost in the deepening haze. From 
far away came a trumpeting sound, the cry of some large animal. But Anigel was 
confident that her friends had chosen a safe place for her to spend the night. 
One small bruddok shrub grew on their island. She drowsily congratulated the 
rimoriks for having found it. They bared their fangs briefly and swam away to 
hunt. The Princess ate a few of the sweet, juicy fruits, made a nest of the sleepsack 
beneath the "traveler's friend," and burrowed into it. 
Once again, her sleep was without dreams. 
Prince Antar's force spent all of the next day searching the great pool at the foot of 
Tass Falls, but had no luck finding the bodies of Princess Anigel or her 
companion. The remains of her wooden punt were found washed up near the 
deserted sawmill, and the consensus among the knights was that no one could 
have survived the trip over the cascade. Their opinion counted for naught, 
however. The decision whether to call off the hunt rested with the sorcerer 
Orogastus. The Blue Voice would confer telepathically with his master on the 
morrow, when fresh intelligence would have been vouchsafed by the all-seeing icemirror. 
The search-party made camp at the pool's edge —knights, men-at-arms, 
and the flatboat crews who had been pressed into service for the body-search. 
Sitting around their bonfires that evening (the sinister chorus of nocturnal hoots 
and roars emanating from the forest behind the mill insured that no one strayed 
far), the Labornoki commoners were in a mood of suppressed cheerfulness. With 
the Princess surely dead, they looked forward to returning to the civilized 
comforts of the Citadel. Most of the knights felt disappointed, cheated of their 
chance for glory. It seemed unlikely that the force would go any further down the 
Great Mutar, searching for the mysterious talisman that the sorcerer had set his 
heart on. 
Contrary to expectations, only three Wyvilo boats had been found at the lower 

landing, and there were no aborigines in evidence to serve as guides. The Master- 
Trader Edzar feared that the forest Oddlings had retreated to their large village, 
called Let, when the Labornok invasion brought a halt to the timber trade. There 
was small hope they would come back up-river before the next dry season. 
Prince Antar sequestered himself in his pavilion that night, refusing even the 
kindly overtures of Sir Owanon and his other loyal friends. His grief at the 
apparent death of the Princess was an open secret, the simple Sir Penapat having 
blabbed to all hearers how distraught Antar had been when the punt was swept 
over the falls. 
The following morning, the Blue Voice was alerted mentally by Orogastus and 
retreated to his own small tent for a long telepathic conference. Antar was left to 
cool his heels meanwhile, and with Sir Owanon took the opportunity to study 
more closely the water-powered mill, and the lift mechanism that had transported 
them all down the escarpment. 
"The elevating device is most cunningly made," the Prince remarked, craning his 
neck for a better look at the woven-steel hoist cables. "All one need do is load a 
single giant log, or a batch of lumber, onto the platform. The huge counterweight 
and the system of pulleys insure that the draft animals at the top are able to lift the 
heaviest load without a great exertion of energy." 
"Ingenious, these Ruwendians," Owanon said. "Still, we have similar machines in 
the shipyards at Derorguila, even if they be not so large." 
Antar said in a low voice: "Large though it is, the lift can hardly handle the great 
flatboats that brought us down the lake, even if we could wrestle the things along 
the skid-road. We could lower the punts, certainly. But they would be inadequate 
to transport our entire force and its necessary supplies down the Great Mutar." 
Owanon nodded agreement. "Effectively, our expedition is stalled." 
"This is what I have instructed the Blue Voice to tell the sorcerer. I have no 
intention of leading a blind search into the Tassaleyo for this magical talisman he 
covets so greedily. Yet I would not put it past him to press such an adventure upon 
us. I will depend upon you and Dodabilik to support me when I decline to take our 

force any further." 
"This goes without saying, my Prince." 
Antar's face was grave within the open visor of his blue-enameled helm. "I fear 
the sorcerer will use this expedition's failure to further diminish me in my Royal 
Father's eyes. The insidious spell monger knew full well that I have no stomach 
for this harrying of helpless women. And there was also my breakdown at the 
lighthouse yesterday…" 
Owanon was tactfully silent. 
The Prince eyed his friend with an expression that was both sad and self-mocking. 
"Do all of them know that I had fallen in love with her, Owan?" 
"Aye, my Prince. But the better men think none the less of you for it. One cannot 
help the inclinations of the heart. And you have carried out King Voltrik's 
commands meticulously. No true-spoken man can say that you shirked your duty." 
"Orogastus can," the Prince retorted bitterly. "He has always hated and envied me, 
convincing the King that I am too immature to grasp great matters of state. This 
damnable invasion… the monstrous cruelty with which we treated the vanquished 
Ruwendians… all the sorcerer's doing! He has turned my father into his creature, 
playing upon his fears and encouraging his basest instincts." 
Again Owanon forbore to speak. 
"King Voltrik was not always a cruel man," the Prince said. "When I was a small 
boy and my dear stepmother Shonda yet lived, he was a noble Crown Prince, a 
loving husband and father, and a man of sanguine and kindly spirit. It was only 
after the coming of Orogastus that his soul became envenomed. Father had to wait 
too long for his throne, and the luckless Shonda was barren, and the sorcerer 
encouraged and abetted every wicked and extravagant ambition that stole into 
Father's mind. Even the contriving of Shonda's death." 
Owanon said gently, "These sad matters are common knowledge, my Prince. But 

your father brooks no criticism of Orogastus — and he is King." 
"Yes," sighed Antar. "Only sometimes, when I remember the awful scene when he 
ripped the regal diadem from the brow of the dying King Sporikar, and his terrible 
glee anticipating the bloodshed that our invasion of Ruwenda would occasion, I 
fear that the sorcerer has driven him mad. But to suggest this would be high 
treason, of course." 
Owanon's face was somber. "You would not be alone in your belief. There were 
many in our army who thought the invasion of Ruwenda unwise. But I fear these 
matters must worsen before they can be bettered." At that moment he spied a man 
running toward them, and cautioned the Prince to silence. 
It was Rinutar rushing up, his armor clanking and his face alight with a malicious 
grin. "My Prince! Amazing news! The Lord Orogastus has determined that 
Princess Anigel yet lives. She is on her way down the Great Mutar. You are 
commanded to follow her, but only with your body of knights and a servant for 
each. And here is the strangest part! The sorcerer no longer commands that the 
girl be hindered from her quest and killed. On the contrary — she is to be given 
free rein! And only after she has secured her magical talisman are we to seize her 
and put her to death." 
Antar stared at the knight thunderstruck. "She lives," he whispered. 
"So says the ice-mirror." Rinutar's smirk was insolent. "I had a feeling you'd be 
pleased… at being given another chance at her." 
Chapter Twenty-Eight 
The lammergeier said to Haramis, There is the cave you seek. 
On this morning, the storm having blown away, the fresh-whitened southern face 
of Mount Gidris was so dazzling bright that Haramis was almost blinded. Even 
shading her eyes with her gloved hand, she could not see the place Hiluro pointed 
out. But the great bird spiraled down, down, down, and what had been a 
featureless glare became a vast bowl just beneath the mountain's summit, from 
which a colossal glacier flowed. 

The river of ice poured over a steep precipice before beginning its gentler descent 
toward the Ruwendian basin, fracturing into a mass of titanic ice-blocks that were 
partially buried in new snow. The cracks and chasms of the icefall glowed with a 
hundred varied shades of blue… but in the midst of the tumble shone an 
unexpected golden gleam. 
As the great bird flew closer, Haramis saw that this was an upthrust spire of rock, 
milky in color but flecked with gold. What had seemed a fragile needle viewed 
from afar soon became an outcropping some eighty ells high and five ells in 
width, apparently formed of white quartz with sparkling inclusions of precious 
metals. The glacier had so abraded it over the ages that it resembled a slender 
tower making a valiant effort to remain above a chaotic, frozen sea. Halfway up 
the spire was an opening, with a narrow rock shelf just below it. 
I can only hover while you alight, Hiluro told Haramis. The ledge is too narrow 
for me. 
The huge black-and-white bird descended. The mouth of the cave was twice the 
height of the Princess, but seemed smaller because of the dangling icicles that 
fringed it like diamond fangs. Almost all of the small ledge was slippery ice, in 
which gold nuggets and chunks of white rock were embedded. 
Haramis touched her amulet, offered a wordless prayer, and clasped Hiluro's 
feathery neck. Her hands just met, and she locked her fingers tightly together. She 
hung blind, her fur cloak billowing and the toes of her boots pointing down. And 
she heard not only the shrill piping sound of air rushing through wing-plumage, 
but also a thunderous growl, and along with it a deep, eerie ensemble of musical 
notes, as if some giant's fiddle were being bowed. 
Her feet touched a firm surface. She relaxed, sank slowly with hands still holding 
the bird's neck, then let go. Opening her eyes, she saw the huge form shooting 
skyward while she rested precariously on her knees at the entrance to her goal: a 
cave of glittering ice with its entrance gold-framed. 
Or so it seemed. 

Overcome with awe, Haramis looked about her. The rock-spire in the midst of the 
glacier vibrated like a tuning-fork to the constant scraping flow of the ice, which 
filled the air with an immense musical sound. How many thousands of years had 
the ice ground away at this hard, gold-veined quartz mass before diminishing it to 
its present slenderness? Seen from close by, the rock tower looked incredibly 
fragile. The cave's mouth, bordered with large amorphous lumps of gold, was 
partially barred by icicles that were beginning to melt in the brilliant sunlight. 
Haramis climbed to her feet, slipped cautiously through the dripping tusks of ice, 
and came into the interior chamber, whose walls and ceiling were streaked with 
flows of black ice. 
A pale glimmer behind the ice-sheet at the back of the cave attracted her attention. 
She moved toward it, on realizing that the trillium amulet she wore was warm 
against her breast, as if it were calling to something. Was the glimmering object 
the talisman destined for her? 
She moved closer to the great dark mass of ice and to whatever it was that glowed 
beneath it. She still could not see it clearly, but her amulet continued to grow 
warmer against her skin. Might her talisman itself be trapped in the ice? If so, how 
could she get it out? 
She moved still closer to the mysterious gleam. Her trillium-amber was now so 
hot that it was burning her breast. She pulled off her gloves, hooked a finger 
around the amulet's chain, and pulled it from under her tunic. The flower flashed 
as if it were afire, and the amulet was so hot she could barely touch it. She slid the 
chain carefully over her head and held it so the amber dangled in front of her face. 
Instead of hanging at the end of the chain, however, the amulet pulled away from 
her, drawn to the glow in the wall. The blazing light from the embedded trillium 
turned an entire section of the wall bright gold. The glare was painful, filling her 
eyes with a large gold spot encircled by a bright blue corona. 
The amulet dragged her several steps closer to the wall. Now it gave off such 
extreme heat that Haramis turned her head away from it. Out of the corner of her 
eye, outside of the area where the light blinded her, she could see water flowing in 
a thin stream down the wall. The amulet was actually melting the ice! 

Suddenly there was a flash of silver amid the gold as something melted free and 
slid to the floor. The amulet's glow faded and it cooled rapidly, falling back 
against her clothing. Haramis bent quickly to grasp whatever had been freed 
before it could refreeze into the puddle on the cave floor. Before she could focus 
her eyes on it she felt its weight in her hand. 
She waited patiently for her vision to clear. Her eyes hurt, and she fought the 
impulse to rub them. But even through the pain, deep within her heart a 
tremendous sense of rightness bloomed. For an instant, she understood the pattern 
of the world and her place in it. She knew all, had power over all, commanded all. 
She had become what she always knew she could be… 
… but for a moment only. And then the transcendent feeling was gone. 
She stood in the ice-cave, now lit only indirectly by the sunlight outside, and 
realized that she could see normally again. She held a wand made of silver metal, 
about half the length of her forearm. At one end was a small ring to accommodate 
the chain, and at the other, a kind of hoop, much larger, that she could have passed 
both her closed fists through. At the circlet's top was a projection that she at first 
took to be a flower made of the same white metal; but when she looked more 
closely, she saw that what she had mistaken for petals were instead three small 
wings, upright. 
The Three-Winged Circle. 
Her talisman. At last. 
Then you will know that the final struggle for Ruwenda, and for your own soul, is 
at hand. . . 
The words of the Archimage seemed to echo in the gold-and-crystal cave, and 
Haramis gave a great start, crying: "Who's there?" 
But immediately she knew that she was still alone, and her mind harked back to 
the feeling of incredible power that had suffused her when the talisman was first 
freed from its icy imprisonment. 

The amulet and talisman both flared to light simultaneously. Reflexively Haramis 
dropped them both and brought both hands up to shield her eyes. But even 
through the palms of her hands she could see glowing radiance. She kept her 
hands in place until the light faded, then slowly lowered them. Her vision was a 
little blurry, but this time she was not completely blinded. She knelt quickly to 
look for the amulet and talisman, hoping they hadn't decided to freeze themselves 
into the floor. Do they think I'm unworthy of them? she wondered anxiously. 
To her vast relief they lay loose on the surface of the ice. But now they had fused 
together, with her trillium amulet nestled within the wings of the wand. 
It was a source of power. Of magic… 
Yes — this was magic! 
"And how will I learn to use this power?" Her gaze was fixed upon the three 
wings. "The White Lady said that there were two other talismans for my sisters, 
and if all three of us succeeded in our quest, then the resolution would come. But 
that doesn't tell me much." 
Within the silvery ring beneath the wings, pearlescent vapors seemed to flow. 
Almost dreamily, Haramis found herself commanding the talisman: "Show me if 
my sisters have succeeded!" 
And she saw Kadiya. 
Her sister stood in the midst of a great crowd of Oddlings — Uisgu, judging from 
their small stature —holding up in one hand a shining thing like a Sword of 
Mercy, a blade lacking a point, with a pommel resembling three conjoined black 
fruits. The Folk were cheering her. 
"Yes," Haramis murmured, "you were likely to win through. But poor little 
Anigel… Where are you, timid one?" 
The Circle was wiped clear of Kadiya's image. In its place, another formed, at first 
unrecognizable — but then Haramis gasped. 

Anigel! Golden hair streaming, face no longer plump-cheeked and sweetly pale 
but lean, flushed, exultant. Sapphire eyes narrowed and flickering from side to 
side with a keen alertness Haramis never would have thought possible. Ani, 
dressed in muddy rags, sitting in an exotic boat that fairly flashed down some 
wide river, leaving a white wake behind it. Ani, timid little Ani, smiling grimly 
while some fierce-looking water-creatures pushed the boat along at breakneck 
speed… 
"Impossible!" Haramis exclaimed. 
And the vision winked out. 
Haramis stared at the empty Three-Winged Circle. "Are these true visions? Is the 
talisman so easy to command?" 
A third vision: the Archimage, lying in bed, distinctly weaker than when Haramis 
had seen her in person, her eyes closed and her skin waxen. Although the creased 
and sunken lips did not move, Haramis seemed to hear her speak: 
All three of you. must accomplish your foreordained tasks, mastering your own 
selves above all, before Ruwenda may cast off the yoke of Labornok and the 
balance of the world be restored. And if one fails, all fail. . . 
"But that doesn't make sense!" Haramis protested. "I am Queen of Ruwenda; the 
duty is mine. And the prophecy of your own Folk says that a woman will bring 
down King Voltrik — not three of them!" 
The dying Archimage opened her fathomless eyes. Still her lips were unmoving. 
But I told you also that Voltrik was not your greatest enemy… The vision of the 
Archimage disappeared. 
Something flickered in the icy mirror of the wall where the talisman had been. 
Haramis looked up and saw the smiling face of a white-haired man. 

His age was unguessable; the passing of years had left no trace upon his fine 
features. He wore robes of black and silver, and sat at a table on which several 
strange devices rested, with a great book and a tablet half-covered with writing. 
He held a stylus in one strong hand and a half-eaten rosy ladu-fruit in the other. It 
was this last homely thing — hardly to be expected of a devil in human form — 
that made Haramis begin to return his smile. 
"Princess Haramis." His voice was as clear as though he stood beside her. 
"Welcome to our company." 
"And what company is that?" she retorted, tightening her lips. "That of Labornoki 
murderers? Unlike you, Orogastus, I am particular about the company I keep!" 
The sorcerer laughed and put down pen and fruit. "You have a rare spirit, Lady. I 
must admit that King Voltrik and General Hamil and their ilk are not the 
companions I would have chosen — had it not been that I had no choice." 
"No choice?" Haramis asked skeptically. 
Orogastus continued with perfect amiability. "The company I welcomed you to 
was that of magic-wielders. I confess that our number is somewhat reduced in 
these latter days, consisting of only you, me, and Binah — she whom you call the 
Archimage. And I fear that soon only you and I will remain." 
"Are you planning to kill the White Lady, now that she is too weak to defend 
herself?" Haramis spoke coldly. 
"My dear child — of course not! I am no wanton killer. No, what stalks Binah is 
old age and death." He looked saddened and pensive. "I fear it comes to all of us 
in time. Some thirty years ago, there were left in the world only two persons of 
power: my mentor, Bondanus, and Binah. Bondanus passed his power on to me. 
Binah, against all logic, would dilute hers by bequeathing it to three of you." 
"In order to save Ruwenda!" Haramis cried. 
"Ruwenda…" The sorcerer shook his head in gentle mockery. "Your talisman has 

the potential to do so much more than rescue Ruwenda! Binah's vision, like her 
life, is dimming. She truly does not know what power the Threefold Talisman can 
command! But you, Haramis, have centuries ahead of you in which to study and 
use it." 
"Centuries?" Haramis blinked. This had never occurred to her. Does using magic 
prolong life—and by that much? 
"Centuries," Orogastus repeated firmly. "Always assuming, of course, that you 
don't accidentally kill yourself with it." He gestured to the talisman she held. 
Idiot! Haramis told herself. You would sit there holding it in plain sight. 
Apparently he recognized it. But how? How much does he really know about it? 
The Archimage seems unable to teach me, and I don't have time to discover its use 
by trial and error—not if I want to save my kingdom and my sisters. 
"The Three-Winged Circle." Orogastus was smiling. "I am happy that you found 
it. I have several books that speak of it, and I have always wished to see it." 
"You have books about it?" Haramis asked. Maybe he'd go away and leave me to 
study his library! "What do they say?" 
"Quite a lot. Too much, I fear, for me to explain to you now—you would be an 
icicle before I had told you a sixth of it." He gestured at her surroundings. "You 
have been so engrossed in our delightful conversation that you have ignored the 
passage of time." 
Haramis looked quickly around her. He was quite right; the sun was low in the 
sky, and the cave was getting dark and cold. She looked back at the mirror. 
Orogastus's clothing appeared lightweight, and there was plenty of light around 
him. 
He beckoned to her. "Come to my home, Haramis, to my mountain tower. Let me 
teach you to use the talisman. It would be pleasant to have company here. Mount 
Brom is rather out of the way, and I seldom have visitors." 

"You don't want my company," Haramis said, looking him straight in the eyes. 
"You just want the talisman." 
To her surprise, Orogastus actually laughed, and seemed to mean it. "I forget how 
new this is to you. No one can take your talisman away. It is bonded to you, and 
for one who would try to take it there is only death. But you know next to nothing 
about the talisman's use. You scry with it!" He laughed. "The merest Oddling 
conjurer can do the same with a leaf-full of water… No, Haramis, you don't 
understand. But I will teach you. I have a great library and so many magical 
devices of the Vanished Ones that they defy numbering. I ask only the joy of 
sharing my knowledge with you. You are reputed to be quite a scholar — do you 
not know the joy that comes from the pursuit of knowledge? The exquisite 
satisfaction when what was unclear suddenly falls into a logical design and you 
comprehend it?" 
"Yes." Haramis found herself nodding in agreement. "I do know what you mean." 
"Then come to Mount Brom," Orogastus invited. "With the talisman you can 
summon your lammergeier to carry you to my tower — and be here in time for 
supper." 
So he doesn't know Hituro is here, Haramis thought. At least he is not omniscient. 
Orogastus's face grew grave. "I swear by the powers we share that I will not seek 
to wrest the talisman from you by force, nor cause any harm to come to your 
person. May my powers leave me forever if I prove false to this oath." He laid his 
hand over his heart. 
"So be it," Haramis murmured automatically, the formula familiar to her from 
years of witnessing oaths. The ice-mirror went dark. 
Well, now what? she wondered. Do I go to him, go to the Archimage, stay here, or 
wander off somewhere and see what I can do on my own? 
Neither of the last two alternatives was in the least appealing. Also, the 
Archimage had not exactly ordered her to return immediately. "When you achieve 
your goal of the Three-Winged Circle, return to me," was what Binah had said. 

Had she meant simply the physical possession of the talisman, or was the ability 
to use it part of achieving the goal? 
Since Binah did not command me to return when she bespoke me just now, 
perhaps she intends for me to master the talisman's use—and perhaps now is the 
time I should confront Orogastus . . . 
While the sorcerer was undoubtedly dangerous, at least there would be warmth 
and food at his tower. The Archimage did tell me that I should learn his 
weaknesses, Haramis thought. Presumably it is part of my destiny — and it will be 
a nice change to have my destiny taking place in comfortable surroundings!… 
And if I do run into trouble at Mount Brom, I can always ask Hiluro to carry me 
away. 
She suddenly became aware of an increased vibration of the rock spire and sounds 
coming from outside the cave. The thundering bass-notes of the grinding glacier 
blended with the clarion-cries of the lammergeier screeching a warning. 
Haramis! Come out! Danger! Great danger! 
She threaded the small ring of the talisman onto her neck-chain, tucked the wand 
into the bodice of her dress, and stepped over to the cave entrance. The icicles had 
all broken off from the tower's shuddering, and the chamber within the spire 
abruptly began to pitch and rock like a boat on a choppy river. Haramis lifted her 
arms. A familiar black-and-white form rocketed down out of the sun and 
something closed about her body, snatching her off the icy ledge. She saw a brief 
flash of gold, a clashing collapse of rainbow prisms, and a wheeling sky, violetblue, 
behind a great crested head. 
Then the lammergeier went into a slow glide, lifted its claw, and carefully held her 
while she climbed into the soft hollow between its outspread wings. Haramis 
risked a quick glance at the place where the quartz spire had been. Now only rock 
slightly less white than ice marred the glacier's surface, and only a few bits of gold 
glinted in the setting sun. 
Chapter Twenty-Nine 

There passed a night, and Kadiya slept between the sindona at the head of the 
stairs. She had made free with the bounty of the garden for food, but she had a 
feeling that to linger there was wrong. The living sentinel had not come again. 
Kadiya did not expect her as she lay, one hand tightly gripping her amulet. It was 
not true sleep into which she drifted, awoke, and drifted again. 
That the invaders had somehow gained a way into this forbidden land she had 
already found proof. And there was Jagun—would he fall captive to some 
scouting party and end as had the poor remnant of a Uisgu who had besought her 
mercy? 
Where should she go now? Retrace her path — face those who had hunted her 
here and might still wait to pull her down? That was sheer stupidity. Yet she had 
no guide, and to wander out into that strange garden would do her little good. To 
her right ran a lofty wall; she would follow it. 
Jagun's hunter's bag, which had gotten hard usage, she had emptied and dried last 
night. She had had to discard some of the small packets in it, for by the time she 
had fished the bag out of the pool they were thoroughly soaked. She had gathered 
edible tubers from the garden, woven a lopsided net of grass to carry fruit, and 
refilled the water bottle. There was nothing more to keep her here, yet Kadiya 
turned once more to look into the garden. Forbidden it might be, yet there was 
something here that reached out to her—that had seemed to welcome her even in 
spite of the chilly demeanor of the sentinel. 
Kadiya sighed and shouldered her bag. For her talisman she had devised a 
temporary sheath and slung it across one shoulder, and its steady weight there 
continued to reassure her that at least she had fulfilled a part of her quest. One 
sword—when an army was what she truly needed! 
She walked for some ways along the high wall; and then it ended at a mighty 
gateway, and she saw within a broad stretch of park, and beyond that a gleaming 
city. Awed, she entered the gate and approached the place. Greenery halfsmothered 
the silent houses, and grass and vines carpeted the streets. Yet beneath 
that assault of vegetation there was no sign of decay. The walls which showed 
through the shaggy drapery were not made of stone, she was certain, but rather of 
that same peculiar substance that had formed the bowl in which she and Jagun had 
spent the night. 

Kadiya suddenly realized she was seeing the city of her dream. More walls rose 
beyond, enclosing it. She came into a wide avenue and walked on, marveling. The 
buildings on either side were well proportioned, and about their doorways and 
windows were indecipherable patterns in high relief. The avenue eventually led 
her to a gate nearly as tall as a three-story building. It stood ajar, and Kadiya 
walked out into a far different world where once again the swamp ruled — though 
the much worn remains of a road led off into it. What time had not touched within 
the city walls had been conquered here. 
Luckily that eroded path had not been totally obliterated. She caught glimpses of 
the ominous yellow scum on either side of the roadway, but footing upon it 
appeared substantial enough. She stopped to cut a sturdy branch from a bush and 
use it to test the ground before she trusted her weight to it. 
She had come well out into the Mire when she turned to look back— and then 
shook her head, unable to believe her eyes. What lay behind her now were broken 
ruins. Even the wall was tumbledown and overgrown by rampant jungle growth. 
Illusion! 
But which was the illusion then — the mysterious garden and the dream-city, or 
this? Had everything that had happened to her been enchantment? Yet, there was 
the weight of the talisman on her shoulder, and she raised her hand to feel the 
knobs of the Three-Lobed Burning Eye. 
She walked on for what might have been several hours, seeing nothing unusual 
and hearing only the normal sounds of the swamp. Judging by the light of the sun, 
which always seemed to be in a haze here, it was midday or a little later. There 
were thickets of thorn-fern and high brambles ahead. 
And then she heard it — the distinctive chirp of a ras beetle, voiced three times in 
a familiar rhythm. Jagun! It must be! 
There was a slight movement in the bushes, and then she saw the face of her dear 
old friend grinning out at her. A dark spot of bruise puffed around one eye. That 
he had had no easy time of it was clear, for he wore a mass of pulped leaves tied 
with reed strings about his upper arm near the shoulder point, and he moved 

awkwardly. 
Nor did he waste any time on greetings: 
"They are here — the Skritek and soldiers." 
She thought of those pathetic figures she had seen along the other road — and also 
of the distant bonfire, and the arrow that had marked a route… for someone. "I 
have seen signs that the enemy is near at hand." 
Jagun's face was a mask, and his attention was not really on her, but on his own 
thoughts. "The Feast of the Three Moons nears," he whispered, "and the darkness 
gathers! But soon there will be fire aplenty, and it will be quenched only by 
blood…" 
The Feast of the Three Moons. They had always celebrated it at the Citadel with 
feasting, and strange old songs had been sung by the bards, and a raft loosed on 
the river laden down with flowers and lighted by three-pronged candles. It was a 
time when the threat of ancient evil was driven away by the will of all. And when 
the three orbs shone high in the sky, close together in mystic conjunction, the 
people rejoiced beneath their benevolent radiance, and sang. But what did Jagun 
mean? Might he have foreseen some great battle upcoming at the time of the 
ancient celebration? A battle in which she might wield her talisman to the 
liberation of Ruwenda? 
Before Kadiya could question him further, Jagun said: "The Skritek—and with 
them the sorcerer's Voice and a party of human soldiers— have fallen upon a 
Uisgu village. Fire they used, and magic summoned out of the air. The Folk they 
still hold captive will soon be meat for the Skritek." 
"They seek me!" Kadiya cried. "This is why they harry the poor Uisgu!" 
"Your capture would be a great triumph. But more than that draws them." He 
nodded back toward where the city of the garden lay hidden by illusion. "You 
have been there. And have you also fulfilled your quest?" 

Wordless, Kadiya took the talisman from behind her back and held it up for him to 
see. 
Though she had known Jagun since she had first begun walking, she had never 
seen such an expression of joy and exaltation upon his face. He half put out his 
hand as if to touch the weapon, but then held back. The black lobes at the hilt 
remained closed, dull, but the blade drew what weak sunlight there was to it. 
Kadiya held the sword closer to him. Tears were pouring down his cheeks. He fell 
to his knees before her. "The talisman! Oh, Far-seer…you have found it!" 
"There is a custom of my people," she said slowly, "that a sword with a broken 
point stands for mercy." She shook her head. "To some I will not offer mercy. But 
to you —" She hesitated and then the sword gently touched Jagun on the head, 
and from some place she did not understand there came words of absolution: 
"My dear friend, be of good heart. Take back your own name! Wear again the 
sacred armlet of the Nyssomu. You have broken no oath — you have only 
followed the course of things as they had to be. Bear no soul burden from this 
time." 
Then Jagun did what Kadiya had never seen before. When he had first come to the 
Citadel and spoken to her Father King Krain, he had saluted the monarch with 
both hands high in the manner she had seen him greet the First of the House in the 
village where they had stayed. But now his whole body inclined forward until his 
arms and forehead touched the earth. 
"All service to you, Light Bearer, Hope Carrier, Protector and Defender—heartkin 
of the Vanished Ones!" 
Bemused, she held up the talisman. It was as if a far off echo reverberated his 
words. Yet something in her shrank, wanted nothing more than to thrust the 
magical blade back into the ground, to return it to what it had been—the root of 
the Black Trillium. 
"Jagun, I do not know what you mean—" 

He climbed to his feet and looked her eye to eye, the sturdy Master of Animals 
and royal huntsman of old. "Lady of the Eyes, learning shall be yours. And none 
will be called where they were not meant to serve." 
"I do not know how to use this talisman," she protested. Never held she felt so at a 
loss. Even the rage which had always given her strength before was now missing. 
"That knowledge, too, will come. Now you must begin the true work you were 
destined for." 
She took a deep breath, then returned the talisman to its improvised sheath. "Very 
well. These beleaguered Uisgu," she said now, briskly. "Where are they?" 
"Near the Upper Mutar. I heard them send out the Call, but it will be too long 
before they can be answered by other Folk. The Skritek" — his lips flattened, 
showing the sharply pointed small fangs so unlike her own teeth — "are not easily 
kept under control. They must be rewarded by blood… and flesh." 
Kadiya swallowed. But she asked, resolutely: "Is there some way that we can aid 
the captive Uisgu?" 
"Farseer, I would say such a deed is impossible. But to you the Forbidden Way 
was opened, and you bear that which is threefold. We shall see." 
"Then let us be off," she said. 
They no longer followed the road but took to a tortuous path through the broken 
lands of the Thorny Hell. When evening was near they sought a campsite, since 
they could not follow the trail through the night on land. But before they could 
bed down, a familiar and terrifying stench came faintly to them on the breeze. The 
Skritek were nearby! 
Jagun had them both rub down with wads of acrid-smelling leaves that would 
mask their scent. Then he dropped belly down while the girl followed his 
example, and the two of them slithered through the underbrush. Moments later 
they crouched shoulder to shoulder, hidden behind the trunklike stems of the giant 

ferns, to look out on an open area. 
It was a camp of sorts. A handful of men in rusty armor were gathered there, 
Labornoki soldiers. Between them and where Kadiya and Jagun crouched in 
hiding spears had been driven into the ground and roped together by twisted vines 
to form a pen. A pen filled with captives. None were males. About a dozen 
aboriginal women sat or lay in small groups within the cage. Two had children in 
their arms. There was about them such an air of misery and fear that Kadiya felt 
her heart contract. Her hand sought the talisman-sword and she stealthily drew it. 
There came a faint wail, and one of the women clapped her hand over the mouth 
of a child. Four Skritek stood guard at the corners of the pen. One flung up his 
long-jawed head and bellowed, then took aim with his spear at the Uisgu woman 
holding the crying child. 
Kadiya lowered the sword, although she still kept her left hand on its hilt while 
her right went to her knife-scabbard. There was a way of throwing her dagger she 
had learned only last season by watching a performer at a fair, and she had made it 
her own by much practice. She was sure she could hit the throat of the nearest 
Skritek guard! Oh, if she had only three or four archers at her back! 
But she did not… and perforce controlled herself. The other Skritek laughed, and 
seemed to urge their fellow to fling his spear at the cringing mother and child. 
Kadiya took hold of Jagun's arm. Could they not do something? 
He opened his own left hand for an instant. On his palm rested a green lump 
which he held with the greatest care. It was an aworik, a strange fungus, hard to 
find but a good friend to any pursued by one of the large predators of the swamp. 
But the enemy moved first. Two human soldiers came out of the thorn-ferns, 
dragging a Uisgu male between them. The Skritek menacing the mother hesitated, 
then lowered his spear. 
While the attention of the invaders was centered on the new captive, Jagun drew 
out his blowgun. Rising to one knee, he flung the aworik with all his might, 
aiming at a place between the human soldiers and the prisoner pen. The brittle 

fungus shattered as it hit the ground, and from its shell flew a myriad of whirling 
spore-carriers, each one sharp-edged as a razor for all its buoyancy. Instantly, all 
of the captive Uisgu dropped to the ground, shielding their great eyes. But the 
Skritek and the Labornoki were taken by surprise. Those who were not blinded at 
once fell into a frenzy as the tiny aworik blades slashed the vulnerable parts of 
their flesh before finally settling to the ground. 
Jagun already had his blowgun ready and Kadiya heard the hiss of the first 
poisoned dart even if she did not sight its swift passage. One Skritek fell. With her 
talisman in one hand and her dagger ready in the other, the Princess leaped to her 
feet. The Skritek nearest her staggered sightless, waving his spear. The girl sent 
the dagger in the whirling throw she had practiced so long. It struck the soft throat 
of the monster and he crashed to the ground, thrashing in his death-throes. More 
poisoned darts from Jagun's pipe downed the other two Skritek. A bloody-faced 
soldier came at them with a short-sword, but Kadiya was ready for him, her 
talisman-sword upraised as if she were a trained Oathed Companion. She swung 
and felt the jar throughout her body as the talisman crushed the man's voice-box. 
He fell, strangling in his own blood. She stood stunned for a moment, unable to 
believe that she had been so able to use the magical sword. 
There was a din of screams and cries. Jagun's darts were taking a toll of the 
remaining Labornoki soldiers. Dying Skritek roared and flailed their great limbs, 
gouging the earth with their talons. Kadiya raised the sword a second time and 
brought its dull edge down on the netting of rope which formed the wall of the 
pen. The vine parted as if melted, not cut. 
"Out!" she screamed to the females inside, most of whom were already on their 
feet. Kadiya pointed with the sword. "Run! Into the thorn-ferns!" 
They fled, Kadiya at their heels ready for any attack from other Skritek or 
soldiers. Jagun followed, having retrieved the Princess's dagger from the flesh of 
the monster she had slain. 
Kadiya and the Uisgu came to a great river, undoubtedly the Upper Mutar, where 
a raft floated beside a large barge such as traders used. There were four soldiers 
there, slightly bewildered by the clamor they heard in the distance, and a single 
Skritek just rising out of the water with his jaws closed upon a writhing fish. 

"Jagun!" Kadiya took in their peril in a second. They needed the hunter with his 
poisoned darts. She was no match for what faced them. But Jagun had lagged 
behind, making certain they were not followed. 
The Labornoki soldiers, swords drawn, were moving to ring her round. Screams 
of terror came from the female Oddlings as the huge Skritek splashed toward 
them. 
The girl felt a sudden warmth against her hand, so much that she shifted her grip 
from the hilt of the talisman-sword to the pointless and dulled blade, bringing it up 
before her. The three eyes on the pommel were open, regarding the nearest of the 
swordsmen moving in on her. 
He gave a hoarse cry and staggered back, dropping his weapon and holding his 
hands to his own eyes. Kadiya did not know what had happened, she could only 
guess. She turned the talisman toward another soldier. This one screamed and 
blundered into his blinded fellow, who immediately whirled and cut at his third 
comrade, striking a mortal blow. Kadiya turned the sword to the last man. But he 
had seen what had happened to the others and he ducked, throwing himself 
forward to tackle her. Then he twisted and screamed. From the back of his neck 
protruded one of Jagun's poisoned darts. A tremendous splash came from the river 
as the Skritek was struck by another dart. As Jagun ran up, the two surviving 
sightless soldiers continued to hack at each other as if they had gone mad. Jagun 
shouted for them all to climb onto the raft. He sliced its mooring rope with 
Kadiya's dagger and tossed the blade on board. Two of the Uisgu women had 
picked up swords, and others readied the raft's poles. 
"Quickly!" Jagun shouted. "More Skritek are coming! Cast off!" Kadiya hastened 
to help the wounded climb aboard. The poles dug in and the raft responded. One 
of the women started a droning chant of the river people, and the ones at the poles 
responded with accelerated swings. Then the powerful current took them. 
"Jagun!" the Princess screamed. But he only shook his head, and then turned to 
confront five howling Skritek that burst out of the ferns. Helpless, the girl watched 
him lift his blowpipe against the charging monsters… and then the raft floated 
around a bend in the river, and Jagun's brave little figure was lost to sight. 

The only weapons they had were the two swords, Kadiya's dagger, and the 
talisman. The Uisgu females did not even wear much in the way of clothing save 
their own bedraggled fur. There were eleven of them all told, and the two tiny 
children. Four of the aborigines wore leaf bandages matted with bloodstains, 
while many of the others nursed cuts from the aworik spore-cases or bruises dealt 
by their former captors. 
"Lady?" 
Kadiya had been mourning Jagun, but now she lifted her head. One of the Uisgu 
women had seated herself nearby. 
"I am Nessak of Dezaras, once First of the House and Speaker of the Law. These" 
— one outflung arm indicated the others — "are also of the village of Dezaras. 
Misfortune came upon us as we journeyed. Our men the human soldiers gave to 
the Skritek and we were made to watch. These invaders seek secrets, Great Lady, 
which we have no knowledge of. For it is oath-bound upon us that we must not go 
into the forbidden place of the Vanished Ones — this place which has ever and 
ever been closed. When we could not speak of what we do not know, the human 
who led the others, one dressed all in red, ordered that we be held for the coming 
of more humans who walk with Skritek and seek to raise Dark against Light. This 
man went away down the river shortly before you came and rescued us… Now we 
are your servants forever, Lady, and we thank you for our deliverance. Will you 
tell us who you are and whence you come?" 
"I am daughter to King Krain who was — and my name is Kadiya. These workers 
of evil have taken our land. My Father died of their cruelty, as did all those who 
followed him. My Mother also." 
She caught her breath for a moment, looking dull-eyed down at the talisman. If 
she had only had it when the Labornoki invaded the Citadel! It had in some way 
defeated those soldiers —what might it have wrought upon King Voltrik himself? 
"There was a prophecy," the Princess continued, stroking the closed eyes of the 
pommel, "that the defeat of these evildoers would come through a woman of my 
house. My two sisters and I journeyed forth, commanded by the Archimage 
Binah, she whom you call the White Lady, in search of that which would avenge 

our kin." 
For the first time in what seemed like days, she thought of Anigel and of Haramis. 
How had they fared? Were both dead, and she the only one left to demand death 
price for their house? 
"Anigel… Haramis…" She spoke their names aloud as if she called to them. 
Under her hand there was movement. She snatched her palm from the pommel of 
the sword. Two of the eyes were opening! Eyes? No, not this time. Instead she 
saw two tiny pictures —visions! There was Haramis, in her hand a Black Trillium 
full opened. And Anigel next, cupping in her palms a similar one. Kadiya had no 
doubt now that her sisters did live, and that somewhere they awaited her and the 
hour of their mutual trial. Even as she was assured of that the eyelids closed and 
she looked once more on the blank spheres of the pommel. Kadiya sighed. 
"Lady," the Uisgu woman said gravely, "it is plain that you are the Light Bearer, 
the Hope Carrier — the Lady of the Eyes who is kin to the Vanished Ones." 
Kadiya shook her head vehemently. "No, Speaker of the Law, I claim no kinship 
with the great ones of old, although this" — she drew her hand down the talisman 
—"might well have come from out of their far time. I do not know how I can bear 
light or carry hope. All I am sure of is that I must bring down King Voltrik and his 
sorcerer Orogastus, even if I must do so alone." 
"Lady," Nessak said softly, "you do not stand alone. Those wicked ones who took 
us broke the great oath and met their punishment. You have been into the Place of 
Knowledge and passed harmless before the guardian sindona. You have been sent 
to IM. You are the Lady of the Eyes —the one long awaited. So shall the Uisgu 
rise to your aid, though war has ever been forbidden us. Darkness walks the land, 
the great balance has been destroyed, and from the struggle ensuing no one stands 
apart! Once we reach Dezaras the Call will go forth and the Folk of the Uisgu race 
will march beside you." 
Kadiya caught her breath. What she had suggested to Jagun, what she had been 
told could never happen now would come to pass. If the Oddlings arose they 
would turn the very Mazy Mire into a weapon against the invaders. Her will 

hardened. This would be full war, and if her talisman's secret could be mastered, 
the war would be won… 
Her clenched hands dug nails into her palms. Time — she needed not only time 
but knowledge. She prayed her new allies might somehow deliver that. 
Chapter Thirty 
The rimoriks swam down the river pushing Anigel in the boat for three more days. 
Sometimes the main channel twisted near the forested bank, and the Princess 
gazed with awe at the strange trees. Some were very tall, with branches that 
looped and curved upward like a dancer's sinuous arms. Some had quaintly 
corrugated trunks, as if thousands of rings were piled one upon another, and 
slanted off-center this way and that in a manner that seemed to defy gravity. There 
were massive, squat trees like gargantuan tubers, broad at the ground and pointed 
at the top, sprouting a ludicrous crown of tiny branches with leaves that never 
ceased to tremble. There were groves of splendid gonda-trees, highly valued for 
construction, larger than any that grew in the Mazy Mire. Their huge columnar 
trunks were each wider than the great main gate of the Citadel, forming hushed 
green arcades lit by slanting golden sunbeams. There were flowering trees so 
packed with vivid scarlet and orange blossoms that they seemed afire. There were 
hulking, shabby-leafed trees with gnarled limbs and gaping holes in their trunks, 
which harbored noisy colonies of night-carolers. The variety of trees was so great 
that Anigel's mind was finally overwhelmed by them, and she was glad when the 
river's mainstream carried them far away from the banks. 
It was obvious that during the Rains the wide, nearly empty bed of the Great 
Mutar ran brim-full in flood. The further downstream they traveled, the more great 
stacks of driftwood littered the channel, the dry bleached branches often brightly 
clothed in skeins of flowering vines. Huge flocks of birds inhabited the 
bottomland, feeding on the mudflats and in the shallows, and rising into the air 
squawking and shrieking when the boat sped through their midst. There were 
occasional animals to be seen — fat gray quadrupeds with gaping mouths that fed 
on aquatic plants in the sloughs, lithe fish-eating carnivores resembling giant 
pelriks, that the rimoriks greeted as comrades, and always numbers of the 
harmless little yellow-striped creatures that had awakened Anigel to the 
Tassaleyo, that swarmed about the shore vegetation and also lived on the river 
islands. 

But no people. 
Anigel questioned her friends about this. They told her that the Wyvilo had, for 
long years now, lived in only one large village. They sought safety in numbers, 
rather like certain fish or birds, since they were endlessly preyed upon by their 
Glismak cousins who lived downstream and in the depths of the inner forest. 
Long ago, the rimoriks said, the Wyvilo had had no permanent abode and lived in 
small family groups. They had rather easily avoided their clumsier Glismak foes 
by never sleeping twice in the same place. But after the Wyvilo began trading 
with humankind they accumulated many things and were no longer able to 
wander. They became more and more rich as their lives were more endangered by 
the envious Glismak. 
But they will not go back to their old ways. Such a pass would be worst to them 
than death. We cannot understand this. 
"But I do," said the Princess to the rimoriks. "Humans have had a similar history. 
There is that within certain people that drives them always to do better, to learn 
more, to strive harder, to climb higher. Not all people are this way, but the urge is 
easily passed from parent to child. It is not a bad thing. It is a great mystery that 
the motive-power of the world drives living things — especially thinking persons 
— ever to grow more complex—when one would think they would tire of 
pressing on and fall back into simplicity, as a fire falls into ashes. The very old 
among us do grow tired. But there always seem to be new young ones eager to 
drive further on, to live better and better." 
Humans and Folk are then akin. 
"I — I suppose we are. But I do not know for certain. The aborigines—the people 
you call Folk — are said by our wise ones to belong truly to this world. We 
humans do not." 
The rimoriks laughed. Oh, yes you do. 
Anigel chided them. "I am no scholar, but I have been taught this by the finest 

teachers. My sister Haramis, who is very clever, assures me that it is true. And it is 
a belief not only of Ruwendians, but of other human nations as well." 
Humans walked this world before the swamp Folk, before the mountain Folk, 
before the fairest Folk. Only the great Browners walked the world earlier. 
Anigel was skeptical. "How do you know? You are only animals!" 
But the rimoriks only laughed again, and would not speak of the matter further, 
and a few moments later Anigel caught her first glimpse of the Wyvilo settlement, 
and she could not be bothered thinking further about mysteries. 
The Wyvilo obviously knew that she was coming. 
A fleet of more than thirty of the slender, translucent canoes put out from the 
shore and came speeding toward her. Each craft carried a couple of dozen 
aboriginal paddlers, with a coxswain standing proudly in the bow, gesturing to 
direct his crew. 
"I think we had better stop," Anigel told the rimoriks uneasily. "By the Flower, 
there are a lot of them! Will you—will you poke your heads out of the water and 
look protective?" 
Two splashes responded, and the big animals grinned at her, then turned their eyes 
to the approaching fleet. 
The Wyvilo village was spread out over a large cleared area that the Princess later 
learned was an island surrounded by artificially deepened channels. The shoreline 
bristled with small docks, at which were tied many more of the lightweight, 
gleaming vessels. (The rimoriks had told her that the canoe-making material came 
from the swim-bladder of a gigantic river fish.) The houses, all on stilts, were 
beautifully constructed of peeled logs, with shake roofs, shutters, and every kind 
of balcony and surrounding deck—the latter crowded with spectators. Most of the 
dwellings were connected by rather rickety-looking aerial walkways. 
A portion of the village that lay farthest downstream had evidently been struck by 

fire recently. Blackened structures were in the process of being torn down and 
new building frames were rising from the ruins. Strangely enough, the Wyvilo had 
no trees at all in their village; but there were masses of shrubbery and garden plots 
down on the ground, and many of the mossy shake roofs had flowers growing on 
them. 
When the leading Wyvilo boat was about ten ells away from Anigel's motionless 
craft, it hauled up short. The others stopped beside it, forming a solid line of boats 
jam-packed with gaping Oddlings, who were very different in physical appearance 
from those that the Princess had seen before. 
They were taller than the Nyssomu and Uisgu swamp-dwellers of the north, about 
the size of strapping adult humans. Their heads were elongated, not rounded, and 
their noses resembled small snouts. Wyvilo eyes were more familiarly aboriginal, 
being large and yellow; but they had vertical pupils — such as Anigel knew the 
Skritek also had. The open mouths of the gawking Wyvilo revealed formidable 
teeth. Their skin was partially hairy and partially covered with dermal plates that 
resembled shiny brown scales. The forest Folk wore gorgeously painted loincloths 
and were hung about with a profusion of necklaces, bracelets, stomachers, anklets, 
and other jewelry — some of it gold or platinum, inset with glittering gemstones. 
Strung blue-glass trade beads seemed to be as fashionable as precious metal, and 
Anigel saw one aborigine sporting the ornate steel cuirass of a Ruwendian knight, 
and another wearing a polder lady's fringed shawl about his massive shoulders. 
She had calmly combed her hair while the fleet approached, and put on Immu's 
leather cape to cover her shabby attire. Now she stood up carefully in the boat, 
flanked by the rimoriks, and raised both hands. The cape fell back to reveal the 
trillium amulet gleaming on her breast. 
The mob of floating Wyvilo voiced a low cry. Talons pointed, and those in the 
sterns of the boats crowded and stretched to get a better look, muttering and 
exclaiming in their guttural language. 
"I come here as a friend," Anigel said. "I seek a magical talisman called the Three- 
Headed Monster." 
All of a sudden the forest Folk fell silent. Again their mouths gaped and their 

golden eyes bulged. 
Anigel waited, then finally said: "Is there one among you who can speak to me?" 
One of the most elaborately ornamented of the coxswains made an abrupt gesture. 
His boat nosed out of the ranks and approached that of the Princess. 
"This one speaks," he declaimed in the tongue of the Peninsula. His voice was 
thick and almost unintelligible, and his brown-furred brow knit in a fierce scowl. 
He wore a collar of beaten gold set with multicolored gems, a fine Ruwendian hat 
of creamy brocade with a brooch of brilliants and sweeping red plumes, and a 
brocade loincloth to match. "This one is Sasstu-Cha, Speaker of Let," he croaked. 
"Who are you? And why do you seek the favor of the Wyvilo?" 
"I am Princess Anigel of Ruwenda. You may know that my country has been 
seized by human enemies from the north." She lifted the trillium amulet as she 
continued to speak. "The Guardian of our land, the White Lady, sent me to seek a 
talisman. It will free my people from the slave-chains of the conquerors. Have you 
heard of this Three Headed Monster?" 
The Speaker hesitated. "We know of one such. But it is no talisman. It lies down 
the river one-half day's journey, then several more hours' travel up Kovuko Stream 
— in Glismak country." 
The Princess drew in her breath sharply, which brought a smile to the Wyvilo's 
face. 
"Can you furnish me with a guide who will take me there?" she asked. 
"No." 
Anigel brandished her amulet. "I demand it of you! By the Flower!" 
The crowd of Wyvilo uttered a great, sighing cry. 

Desperately, she pulled the Black Trillium leaf from the wallet at her waist and 
flourished it. The Folk cried out even louder, and this time their tone was clearly 
fearful. 
"But I must go there! Help me," Anigel pleaded. 
"If you go up the Kovuko, you will surely perish," Sasstu-Cha said. "The trees of 
that place are as voracious as the Glismak themselves. None of our people dare 
take you there. Even if it were not a place forbidden by the Sky God, we could not 
go. Four suns ago the Glismak attacked Let and burned many of our houses. As 
the dry season ends, they always do, knowing we are richest in booty from our 
trade with the humans. They will return soon and attack again. All Wyvilo must 
stay and defend our home. Not even the holy Black Trillium can sway us from this 
duty." 
Anigel drew herself up and took a deep breath. "Very well. Then I and my rimorik 
friends will go by ourselves. Will you at least give me careful directions, so that I 
may quickly find this Kovuko Stream?" 
"Yes, willingly. And also food, and fresh human clothing, if you wish it." 
"That would be most welcome. There is also one other boon I would beg. 
Following after me are other humans, my enemies. I beg that you do not tell them 
where I have gone." 
"We will not," said Sasstu-Cha. He swept his arm up in a gesture to his paddlers. 
"Now this one asks you to follow, Princess Anigel of Ruwenda. Accept for tonight 
the precarious hospitality of Let, then go on your way. And if you find your 
magical liberating talisman, think not only of your own imperiled home, but give 
some small thought to ours as well." 
Chapter Thirty-One 
The Uisgu were highly sensitive to the swamp environment, which made them 
conscious of the smallest change in the life about them. It was twilight when those 
at the poles (they had changed many times during their journey downstream) 
suddenly stopped. Kadiya saw them draw together, speaking, in whispers, their 

own dialect. 
Nessak, who had the trade tongue, came to Kadiya's side. 
"Lady, there are more of the enemy before us. The greater part have camped at the 
river bend. We must somehow find a way around them or be taken again for their 
evil pleasure." 
Kadiya nodded. She would have to depend upon their land and water skills as she 
had upon Jagun's. 
Jagun… he remained a painful memory. In spite of all their hopes he had not 
reappeared along the Mutar, nor had the Uisgu women reported picking up any 
Call from him. But the Princess continued to flinch away from the thought that he 
was dead. 
"There is a way for us to pass around our foes?" Kadiya asked. 
The mists were rising again, drifting to veil first this part and then that of the river 
and the banks. They had encountered no further sign of ruins since they had 
escaped. 
Nessak slowly shook her head. "Lady, the wicked humans have with them Skritek, 
but it is also true that they are much wearied and there are more dangers 
hereabouts. This is hunting territory for the loom. Thus — " she made a small 
motion with her hand, "after nightfall we must go into hiding from more than men 
and Drowners." 
Loom! Kadiya had heard of those savage night-flyers from early childhood. They 
were what nurses used to frighten any of their charges who lingered in the open 
after sundown. But since they had fled into this land Jagun had not mentioned 
them. She had seen well tanned squares of their leathery wings on sale in Trevista 
seasons back, but only once and then they had been something of a curiosity. Now 
she looked up into the steadily darkening sky. Loom were bloodsuckers that could 
latch onto a man or animal and suck it dry, with talons to claw the life out of any 
prey close enough to be captured. 

"Lady!" One of the Uisgu who had been at the fore of the raft called softly. "Look 
there!" 
The river had made several bends, even split into more than one channel since 
they had taken flight. Now it appeared to be straightening out again ahead and 
there was a glow on the left-hand bank, one which certainly was not born from 
any swamp-growth but from a fire or other fixed light. At the same time they 
heard the notes of what could only be a battle-trumpet summoning an ingathering, 
and then the shouts of men and a droning sound. 
The Uisgu women sent their craft to the opposite shore with hasty pole work. 
"The foemen are attacked!" Nessak's voice rose above her former soft speech. 
"Maybe the loom, Lady." 
"If they are such fools as to light the way for those predators," commented 
Kadiya, "then certainly they are simple as babes in this place. The Skritek should 
have given them warning — " 
Nessak made a sound which was near bitter laughter. "Lady, these men from afar 
will not listen to the gabble of the Drowners. They would think a warning from a 
swamp-dweller need not be taken seriously. There is no good sense among them, 
only the need for the shedding of blood to satisfy their masters." 
"If the loom attack them now," Kadiya said, thinking furiously, "can we not slip 
by them?" 
Nessak considered. "Such might give us a chance, Lady. We can but try it…" 
They touched the shore on the left bank. Kadiya and several of the others grasped 
swiftly at reeds there and cut quantities, throwing the bundles back to the rest who 
were busy working to make the raft appear one of the floating masses of debris 
which were often to be seen drifting down-river. The only barrier against such a 
plan was the size of the craft they were trying to disguise. Such floating islets 
were usually less than a quarter the size of the log platform on which they had 
taken refuge. 

Having made the only preparations they could, two of the polers pressed them 
back into the current, which was lazier here, so they drifted along at a nervetorturing 
slowness. The fire in the enemy camp blazed ever brighter. On the raft 
the Uisgu lay flat, reeds pulled over them, but watched the other shore with 
anxious eyes. 
It appeared the invaders had learned a little something during their earlier battles 
with the loom for a number of men waved torches, each torchman being flanked 
by a fellow with waiting spear or sword. Several of the beasts were down 
struggling on the ground. A Skritek beat in the head of one and a man who wore a 
reddening bandage about one leg heaved a light sword as if it were a hunting knife 
to pin another violently beating wing to the earth. 
There was nothing proud and self confident about the bearing of these Labornoki 
soldiers now. Their armor was rusted, their helmet-plumes draggled, and their 
clothing filthy. A number wore bandages, while the faces and bare skin of near all 
of them were puffed and reddened by numerous stings of insects. Under one tree 
which had a rude shelter braced about its trunk were at least four who lay 
motionless. 
It was very evident that the camp, large as it was — for this was no band of 
scouts—was completely under concerted attack. Kadiya reached out with her pole 
and drove its end into the left bank, exerting her strength to urge the craft forward 
faster. Others of the Uisgu women followed her example. But the raft moved on 
very slowly. 
It would seem that the loom were finding their battle more perilous than they had 
counted on. The swarm sheered swiftly away when one of their number caught 
fire from a well aimed torch. The burning thing screeched, and then dropped on its 
attackers determined upon retaliation. The talons on one wing hooked a man's 
jaw, scraping off his helm. He gave a last cry of terror as the loom dove headlong 
to the ground, burying its human prey under its own burning body. 
Kadiya felt that they had more than a chance of slipping past undetected now. 
None of the battlers were close to the river and, even though bonfire and torch 
illuminated the surface of the dark water, none of the Labornoki or Skritek 
appeared to look in their direction. 

But she knew hope too soon. The raft suddenly shuddered under them and was 
carried toward the right shore. Kadiya struggled with her pole against what she 
first thought was some trick of the current. Then, hardly more than an arm's 
distance away, the camouflage covering the logs heaved. She heard a Uisgu 
scream as a great scaled arm arose from the water to paw at the stacked reeds. 
At the same time her pole was jerked from her hands, and she let go just in time to 
save herself from being pulled overboard. The raft was now moving steadily 
toward the scene of the battle. 
"Drowners!" Nessak gasped. "Underneath — they are pulling us!" 
There was no way to marshal a defense against creatures so used to the water that 
they could lurk for a long time unseen below its surface. Nor did they dare try to 
leap overboard and swim for it, since their enemies would only swiftly pull them 
under. 
Kadiya guessed what had happened. Most of the canny swamp devils had taken to 
the water at the coming of the loom attack, leaving the men to do battle. There 
must be a goodly number of them now in the river, judging by the speed the raft 
was now making toward the shore. 
The chaos in the camp was lessening. There were more looru down, and now the 
company of vicious flyers had sheered off before making a fresh attack. 
And then, as Kadiya watched, into the full light of the fire there came a figure 
robed in red, a hood pulled up and over his face. This could only be the Voice of 
Orogastus, who had sought her so long. In one hand he carried a rod, and this he 
raised vertically, ramming the lower end into the ground. A soldier ran forward 
and helped to steady the staff. On the upper end, well above the level of the 
bonfire, was a circular plate. Now the Voice stepped back, and from his hand 
there shot a beam of light which struck the plate. There was a small explosion. 
Orange-yellow flames spurted from the plate's rim, and it began to spin, making 
an ear-splitting keening sound. The swarm of flyers uttered squawks of fear. In a 
body, they lofted high into the night sky, and a moment later had disappeared. The 
whirling firework blazed and shrieked on for a few minutes more, then subsided 

into a shower of sparks and died. 
The man in red strode down toward the shoreline to stand watching the incoming 
raft. Kadiya heard no call from him but immediately several men wearing the torn 
cloaks and tarnished insignia of officers came to join him. 
There were orders shouted and troops came running from the recent scene of 
battle. Kadiya saw a ragged handful of archers with arrows at the ready. But an 
officer in a full suit of elaborate blood-red armor threw up his arm and they did 
not fire. None of the Uisgu females had risen out of hiding, but Kadiya had no 
doubt that those ashore were quite aware of them. Clambering out of the river now 
and setting the big raft to rocking, the Skritek grinned in triumph, their large eyes 
returning the red gleam of fire and torch. 
The officer, whom Kadiya now recognized to be General Hamil, turned to the Red 
Voice and spoke. Straightway the acolyte of Orogastus shouted in trade tongue: 
"Ashore, swamp scum! Or shall these allies be allowed to take what they wish?" 
He made a small gesture to the waiting Skritek. 
The reeds shifted as the Uisgu women crawled out. But Kadiya did not follow at 
once. She gripped her talisman. Surely there might be just a chance… Skritek 
seized the Uisgu and hurled them ashore. However, the Voice had no eyes for 
their capture. He stared at the place where Kadiya still lay hidden, frowning. The 
talisman seemed to be shielding her in some way. 
The Voice said something to General Hamil and the officer turned. One of the 
Uisgu women who carried a child had stumbled and fallen at his feet when the 
Skritek had thrown them ashore. Hamil stooped and caught the screaming child by 
one arm, jerking it out of its mother's loosened grasp, and tossed it to one of the 
Skritek. The monster roared with delight and caught the prize easily out of the air. 
Kadiya burst out of the covering of rushes, talisman in hand. "No!" she screamed. 
"Take her!" shouted Hamil. 

Before she could move, the talons of a Skritek who had climbed up from the river 
closed upon her, twisting her arms behind her back painfully, and she was dragged 
off the raft onto the shore. The talisman had fallen in the mud; but when another 
Skritek stooped to pick it up he yelped and pulled back, while around the nowglowing 
pommel there arose curls of smoke. 
Thrust before the General and the Voice, Kadiya stood tense with impotent rage. 
Hamil's helm was open, and he bore very little resemblance to the splendid man 
she had seen at the Citadel. His bristly bearded jaws and cheeks were lumped with 
bites, some of which were badly swollen. One beside his left eye had pulled down 
the lid so that he could hardly see out of it. But he was smiling and now he 
laughed. 
"Well, Voice," he spoke to his companion. "Now here is something that can make 
all this damned muck-treading worth it. The Princess Kadiya! We have indeed 
been favored this night!" 
A hand shot out and nails cut cruelly into her cheeks as he cupped her face and 
held it higher. 
"Swamp vart," he said with real pleasure. "Far from your silks and pretties now, 
aren't you? It did not take long to reduce you to a mud-runner—soft meat like all 
your kind!" He let go his hold and slapped her face, a blow so sharp and heavy 
that tears came willy-nilly. 
Hamil snorted. "Weep your eyes out, girl. There is no mercy for any of your 
house." He looked to the Red Voice and added scornfully: "So the women of 
Krain's blood are to bring great Labornok down?" His heavy hand fell again, this 
time on her shoulder, and he brought her about to face the minion of Orogastus. 
"This —this is what your great lord sees as death to us? What a joke!" 
The Voice was not looking at Kadiya, rather at the talisman, which lay a short 
distance away. He stooped to take it and then drew back, scowling. 
"What frights you, Voice?" Hamil was jovial. "It is the talisman! The magical 
gimcrack so coveted by your master. Take it, man. What are you waiting for?" 

The Red Voice stiffened. He seemed to grow taller, more massive. From the 
eyeholes of his mask dazzling white beams shone, so that even General Hamil 
joined his men as they all exclaimed in fear. 
"Hamil!" As if borne on the night wind came a new voice Kadiya had heard 
before. It was the acolyte speaking, but the tones were those of Orogastus. "You 
have done well, better than you know. But you must take great care. That lying 
before you is bonded to your prisoner. Neither you, nor any other who has not the 
old knowledge, can handle it —only she. My Red Voice, obey me! Make Princess 
Kadiya carry the talisman back to the Citadel, but be sure she cannot use it." 
The Red Voice slumped. His eyes were dark again, and he whispered: "Yes, 
Master." 
Hamil spat, loudly and noisily, the spittle striking the mud just beyond the 
pommel. "So she and that stick are magically bonded. Well, Voice, how do you 
solve this problem? It is plainly of your master's kind of warfare." 
The sorcerer's acolyte produced a length of cord, not woven from any fiber but 
oddly mottled in color as if it had been the skin of some small swamp-worm. As 
Kadiya watched, he fashioned a small noose at one end of it. This he proceeded to 
roll between thumb and forefinger muttering to himself. Then, with the care of a 
fisherman about to entice some wary pond dweller, he lowered the loop and, with 
great patience, worked it over the pommel of the talisman, giving it a stiff jerk 
when he had it in place. Having made sure that his noose was secure, he lifted the 
snakeskin and so drew the pointless sword entirely free of the ground. As he stood 
dangling it before him, Hamil reached forth carelessly to touch it, only to have the 
Voice pull back. 
"Lord General, this be truly bonded. Lay hand fully upon it and it may have you 
entrapped." 
The General snorted. 
"You heard the orders of my Master," the Voice went on. "This is a thing of great 
power he wishes to possess, and since it is bonded to Princess Kadiya, he wishes 
her also." 

Hamil eyed the girl thoughtfully. "But what if she contrives somehow to use the 
damned thing?" 
Through the eyeholes of his mask the Voice was regarding Kadiya intently. "Lord 
General, we do not know what this girl can do. But my Master has given me a 
device to subdue her." 
At the end of the spotted skin which held it, the sword swayed hypnotically back 
and forth. The Red Voice reached into his robe with his other hand, brought out a 
small white object, and touched it to Kadiya's forehead. 
Kadiya cried out, and then her voice died away. It was as if the biting cold of ice 
struck her, freezing her very bone-marrow. The cold spread through her body 
from head to foot. She tried to move, but her body did not respond. 
The Voice nodded. "Just so. For a space, Lord General, she will be harmless — 
though this will not hold forever. The device works but once, and I have but one 
of them with me. There is another way that we shall coerce this girl. That which is 
bonded can be released —by willing. But such breaking of another's resolve will 
take time. We must see that this talisman goes with her until we are in a position 
to accept it freely from her." 
"Accept freely?" Hamil stared and then laughed, "Oh, that can be arranged, oh, 
yes, it can!" 
There was a volley of orders. Kadiya was trussed like an inert bale of goods, with 
her talisman lashed to her back. Then poles were run through the ropes, and two 
soldiers bore her off like the trophy of a hunt. 
The Uisgu from the raft had been once more herded together and were bound up, 
their necks noosed one to the next in a line. However, it would seem that their 
captors had no intention of going farther that night. Perhaps to leave their fire 
would appear folly after they had beaten off one loom attack. There were a couple 
of strong-rooted trees growing among the ferns, and to those the neck ropes of the 
captives were made fast. Skritek squatted nearby, grunting among themselves, 
eyeing the prisoners greedily. 

Kadiya's thoughts moved sluggishly. She had a queer mental picture of one 
pushing step by step through a great bank of snow. She considered General Hamil. 
He was a fit and ready tool for King Voltrik. From him there flowed a sense of 
evil, not of unearthly darkness such as the Voice and his master projected, but 
rather a brutality which was worse in a way because it was fully human. 
Nevertheless, it seemed more likely that she might influence him than the 
sorcerer's puppet… 
She tried to use anger, as she had so often before, to arouse herself out of the 
deadly cold. But she was trapped. There was no warmth either from the talisman 
to which she had been so carefully bound. She closed her eyes and willed herself 
to think clearly, but her congealed nerves seemed only to urge surrender. 
Then she was aware of a rustling beside her, and that for some time she had not 
heard the grunting of the Skritek. She opened her eyes as breath foul with the 
fumes of brandy puffed against her cheek. Then there came a clamping down of a 
hand, harsh and hard, across her lips, and strong fingers tangled in her hair. 
"Princess!" It was a tainted whisper. "What of the treasure you have seen in the 
swamp ruins? Where is that beldame of the ancient legends who plays with magic, 
who is said to have gathered the most powerful tools of the Vanished Ones? 
Orogastus thinks to gather all into his own hands. Ah, much I know of that! More 
than Voltrik, who may be dead by now, along with that stupid boy, his son. But 
the sorcerer is far away in his tower, and this Voice of his but a weakling and a 
fool when he is not possessed by his master's spirit. Tell me the secrets you have 
learned! Buy a clean death, King's Daughter. If you gain one you buy it of me, and 
me only." 
Hamil! This man was playing some game of his own… 
The hand uncovered her mouth but the fingers remained painfully twisted in her 
hair. Oddly enough, the brutal General's threats appeared to have broken through 
some of the icy sorcery which held her impotent. So there was no longer a 
meeting of common purpose among the enemy. How could she turn this to 
account? It was so difficult to think clearly. 

"Would you rather face the Skritek, then, mud-crawler? Well, we can make a 
pretty show in the morning for you. One you can watch." 
His grip on her loosened and she was abruptly alone. For a big man he could 
move silently enough, though she had been cast down on the ground not far from 
his tent. And then she saw another shadow moving, one that did not approach 
closely. But she heard a sibilant whisper: 
"So! Hamil believes that he is a match for the Master! As if there was ever any 
need for him, or King Voltrik, or Prince Antar, once this land was overrun. What 
you carry, girl, that is what matters! Orogastus would be willing to let you take 
your blood payment from the Labornoki King if you would meet him with truth." 
The Red Voice crept nearer. Then his hand was on her shoulder, very close to the 
pommel of the talisman. "See, I will play you fair. I can free you from the spell 
that freezes you. We can be far from here before that morning Hamil prates about 
if only you will bond the talisman to me." 
Exerting all her strength, she managed to gasp: "I am no fool, faithful servant of a 
foul master!" 
"Foul? Ah, no, Princess. You will find Orogastus a most pleasing friend. Already 
your dear sister Haramis is his cup-mate and learns from him such wondrous craft 
as your Archimage never even dreamed might exist. She has a taste and a talent 
for such things, has the Princess Haramis, and already she sees matters through 
the Master's eyes. You can join her. My Master will not gainsay you if you bring 
King Voltrik and Hamil down. They have begun to weary him. You can be a 
queen, if you wish — a ruler of two lands, and your sister will have a 
thaumaturgical throne to reach the stars." 
There was a poisonous reasoning in what he said. That Orogastus might be tired 
of his Labornoki allies could be understood. That he believed he could use her, a 
royal Princess, to rule both Ruwenda and Labornok —yes, that, too, was 
plausible. Of course, he must be lying about Haramis submitting to Orogastus. 
Still, she might temporize. 
"I… I cannot give anything… when I am so bound," Kadiya pointed out. 

The sound that came from the Voice was nearly a snicker. "Princess, you can 
command your talisman even if you are bound. Release by word and thought what 
you carry and I shall speedily release you." 
Of course she did not believe him. But there was so little time to think and her 
thoughts still seemed sullenly slow… Then she remembered — remembered a 
blade which had grown from a root. She might carry a magical sword, but it was 
rooted in something else — and that this follower of Orogastus did not know. 
"I grant you… permission to draw it." She found words coming to her tongue 
which had not been in her mind a moment earlier. "Plant the blunt end of the blade 
in the ground." 
She could hear his quickened breathing. That he trusted her was a wonder, but one 
she had no time to consider now. She felt the talisman slide out from between her 
shoulders. There was no gleam to it now; it remained quite dull. The Red Voice 
was on his feet. She saw him put the blade into the soil until it stood upright even 
as she had asked. 
Then — there was a radiance, the blade thinned, became as slender as a stem, but 
the three lobes remained the same. She heard her own voice in a fierce whisper: 
"Be, O living talisman, O rootstock of the Black Trillium, the emblem and 
strength of our house, as you have always been!" 
At her order the spheres opened. The three eyes were alive. They turned on the 
Voice, who had stiffened. For an instant his own eyes gleamed star-bright as the 
distant sorcerer sought to invade him. But Orogastus was not quick enough. 
One eye of the talisman shot forth white light, and to that was joined a green beam 
from the Oddling eye, and a shaft of gold from the human. 
And the Voice burned. 
He writhed as the magical radiance enveloped him. A column of tricolored flame 

entwined about his body sealing him in. He had not even time to scream. And then 
the fire was gone as suddenly as it had come and cinders lay heaped on the 
ground, giving off wisps of smoke. 
In the place of the Three-Lobed Burning Eye stood the talisman, lifeless and dull. 
Chapter Thirty-Two 
Never had Prince Antar spent such wretched days and nights as those on the Great 
Mutar. The unrelenting sun roasted him and his armored companions like holiday 
togars. They had taken only the seven largest of their wooden punts (deeming 
those of the Wyvilo too fragile and tippy), and these were cramped and crowded 
when loaded with the reduced force of forty-three men and the necessary supplies. 
In their inexperience the Labornoki almost always chose stopping places on the 
main banks of the river that were too hot and too muddy, and infested with slimy 
bloodsuckers, biting gnats, and small yellow-striped vermin that gnawed holes in 
the supply sacks. The meals prepared by amateur soldier-cooks were usually 
either burned or raw. Two men already suffered the bloody flux from snacking on 
poisonous fruit. Bereft of their comfortable pavilions and folding beds, which 
were too large to fit in the punts, the knights had to sleep on the ground as the 
common soldiers did, covered only by their capes. 
And finally, when the unkempt force reached the attractive Wyvilo settlement of 
Let, which looked by then as inviting to them as Derorguila Palace, the accursed 
Oddlings refused them permission to land. 
Meeting the Labornoki in midstream, the Wyvilo were totally unimpressed by the 
Prince's offer to reward them handsomely for their trouble. The Speaker declared 
that the village had no time for guests. It expected to be besieged by its Glismak 
foes at any time. The humans must move on. Neither guides nor food supplies 
were available. 
Sir Rinutar took it upon himself to revile the assembled flotilla of forest Folk and 
their Speaker roundly. He threatened them with the thaumaturgical fury of the 
mighty Orogastus, this same to be delivered via the Blue Voice if the Wyvilo did 
not accede at once to Labornok's demands. 

Rinutar's friend Sir Karon, not wishing to be bested in defiance of the insolent 
primitives, surged to his feet in his punt, drew his sword, and challenged Speaker 
Sasstu-Cha to single combat. At this point, the apparently unarmed aborigines 
whipped out small catapults and bombarded the seven Labornoki boats with a 
barrage of smartly flung flintstones. 
The Prince and most of the knights in their armor were hardly hurt (although the 
luckless Sir Penapat narrowly missed having his eye put out); but the twenty-one 
soldiers, having been pressed into service as reluctant oarsmen and shucking most 
of their armor because of the heat and constraints of rowing, sustained many a 
bruise and laceration. 
Sir Karon was startled into overbalancing when the assault commenced, and his 
massive flounderings caused his punt to roll over with a tremendous splash. Still 
waving his sword, the iron-clad stalwart vanished into the depths of the Great 
Mutar, never to be seen again, as did his knightly companion in the punt, Sir 
Bidrik. The Blue Voice, who had also been a passenger in the capsized craft, 
popped to the surface of the water with remarkable buoyancy for one so skinny, 
and struck out for the Prince's boat, into which he was dragged by Sir Owanon. 
The three decanted soldier-oarsmen thrashed about pathetically calling for help, 
since they could not swim and their boat had drifted off down the river out of 
reach. Eventually they were hauled safely aboard other punts by their mates. 
The Wyvilo had watched this spectacle phlegmatically, slingshots at the ready. 
"Go away," Speaker Sasstu-Cha commanded once again. "We will not harm you 
further if you leave at once." 
Prince Antar spoke in a whisper to the dripping Blue Voice: "Can you magic yon 
Oddlings and force our will upon them?" 
"Nay, High Lord." The Voice was calmly wringing his skirts over the side. "The 
instruments of enchantment I might have used are, like the late Lords Karon and 
Bidrik, now resting on the floor of the Great Mutar." 
"Very well," sighed the Prince. And he called to the oarsmen: "Row on!" 

Thus ignominiously did the search-party continue down the river, until it was 
nearly dark and the Prince deemed that they had gone a safe distance from Let. 
Then they put in at an inviting small cove, hard by the main channel and smoothly 
sanded, and made camp by firelight. 
There were seven soldiers so badly battered that they were useless for fighting or 
arduous rowing. These were excused from further duty. "Tomorrow," Prince 
Antar told them, "you men, and two others more able-bodied from among the 
wounded, will take one of the punts and make your way back to Tass Town. Tell 
the boat skippers and the Master-Trader that they are to await our return upon pain 
of death — even should we not have returned by the start of the rainy season." 
There was much murmuring among the knights and the other men at this, but the 
Prince paid no attention. He then summoned the Blue Voice. "Call upon your dark 
master to scry for us Princess Anigel, so that we may know where to betake 
ourselves on the morrow. Tell Orogastus also to inform my father King Voltrik 
that I continue to follow his orders faithfully, and those of his Grand Minister of 
State." 
With that, the Prince tramped off down the moonlit shore by himself. The other 
men went about their business sunk in melancholy, excepting the Blue Voice, who 
retired to a grove of weeping wydel-trees at the margin of the strand, knelt down, 
and passed into a trance. 
"Almighty Master, hear me!" 
"I, Orogastus, hear you, my Voice." 
"Alas, my Lord, our expedition has suffered a grave setback at the Wyvilo village 
of Let. The Oddlings caught us unawares with a shower of missiles, upsetting the 
boat in which I rode. All of the magical equipment was lost, and the knights 
Karon and Bidrik sank from the weight of their armor and drowned. Also, seven 
men-at-arms were so badly banged about that they must retire back to Tass Town 
in the care of two others less seriously injured, and Sir Penapat has a black eye the 
size of a ladu-fruit from being smote with a flying rock." 

Orogastus digested this news. "The Prince and the other seventeen knights are yet 
hale?" 
"Aye, Great Lord. And twelve soldiers — although most are bruised and full of 
complaints." 
"I have scried the Princess Anigel. She is encamped at the mouth of a small 
stream down-river from you and intends to go up this waterway tomorrow, 
traveling on foot when she can no longer use her boat. It will take your party 
about five hours to reach the stream if both the men and knights row double-time. 
You will order Prince Antar to depart at dawn and pursue Anigel with all speed — 
but see that she goes unscathed until she secures the talisman, which must now be 
very close by." 
"I will transmit your commands to the Prince, Master." 
"Tell the Prince also the good news that his Royal Father is very near full 
recovered. Furthermore, General Hamil has Princess Kadiya in custody and will 
shortly take charge of her talisman, the Three-Lobed Burning Eye." 
"Master…" the Voice faltered. "This evening, as we made our landing, I felt a 
sudden brainstorm. It—it seemed as though my Red Brother, who accompanies 
General Hamil, had met with misfortune." 
"My Blue Voice, you must be brave. Your brother has perished in my service." 
"Oh, woe!" 
"The Dark Powers will receive his life-energies and glorify them. And you two 
Voices who remain shall share an even greater earthly reward when my great 
ambition is fulfilled… But recall now the other matter, concerning Prince Antar, 
that you must yet carry out." 
"I wait only for the appropriate moment, Almighty Master. The doughty Sir 
Rinutar, a man after your own heart, will be taken into our confidence after the 
deed is done. He will surely lead our parry back safely once the talisman is 

secured." 
The sorcerer's mental speech now lost all tinge of sympathy and became charged 
with a dreadful resolution. "It is of the utmost importance, my Voice, that Anigel's 
talisman be not lost." 
"Great Lord, I understand." 
"Kadiya's talisman is all but secured. That of Princess Haramis will soon be mine 
— perhaps even before this night is over! But these two are fully empowered only 
by the third, the one you must bring to me." 
"On my life," the Blue Voice vowed, "I will place it at your feet. And if all goes 
well, Prince Antar will not see tomorrow's sun set." 
"I am pleased. Farewell, my Blue Voice." 
The enchanter's minion made his way back into the camp, where one cook-of-theevening 
was preparing a stew of dried meat and vegetables garnished with 
fatback, while another attempted to bake loaves in a sooty reflector oven. The 
smells were not encouraging. 
The Blue Voice approached the Prince boldly. Antar's preoccupation vanished and 
he looked almost eager. "You have news?" 
"Aye, High Lord. The fugitive Princess is only about eight hours ahead of us. She 
nears the goal of her questing, and perhaps tomorrow or the next day will see her 
taken." The Voice went on to tell of the King's recovery, and how the sorcerer had 
nearly secured the other two talismans. He did not mention his fellow-acolyte's 
death. The Prince listened with half an ear, then walked away without another 
word to share the poor supper with his men. 
That night a great thunderstorm struck the Tassaleyo Forest, the first genuine 
precursor of the rainy season which would officially begin in six days, after the 
Feast of the Three Moons. The men of Labornok were roused by the thunder, and 
hastened to turn over their boats and take refuge under them. But once again their 

lack of wilderness experience betrayed them. The sandy flat that had seemed so 
pleasant earlier was now inundated as the Great Mutar rose in brief flood. Cursing 
and groaning, the parry had to right the punts and climb into them, then paddle 
into an adjacent thicket, now also underwater, and tie up there for the rest of the 
night. They dozed fitfully beneath their streaming capes as the storm raged on, 
bailing out the punts as rainwater accumulated. 
Prince Antar was as soaked and miserable as the lowest soldier. Yet he thought 
not of his own discomfort, but rather sat sleepless as he worried how Princess 
Anigel fared throughout that endless, blustery night. 
Friend, they called to her. Friend, awaken. It is first light. You asked us to call 
you. Awaken! 
Inside the hollow tree, Anigel stretched and yawned. She lay on dry, clean wooddust, 
the product of the carpenter-worms that still worked industriously around 
and above her to reduce the dead forest giant to a mound of humus. Her hair, sleepsack, 
and the handsome new clothing that the Wyvilo had given her were 
powdered with the stuff; but it was a small price to pay for snug shelter during the 
storm. 
She had dreamed again, but the memory faded with the rimoriks' call. She had 
bade the animals rouse her early, knowing that she must be nearing the object of 
her quest. Last night, awakened momentarily by the crashing thunder, she had 
seen her trillium amulet glowing like fire; the small floweret within was very 
nearly full open. 
She ran the comb through her hair to dislodge the worst of the dust and took out 
the miton gourd from her wallet. The Black Trillium leaf wrapped around it no 
longer seemed so fresh and green; its upper portion was withering where the vein 
had turned brown, and only the base was moist and alive. The golden trace that 
had guided her from Noth now extended only through the short, bent stem. 
We have food for you, friend. Come out and see. 
Gathering her things, she stopped and squeezed out of the hollow tree. The two 
rimoriks were there beside the punt, which was drawn up partway on the bank of 

the stream. A fat winju-fish lay on the moss. Rags of mist stole in and out of the 
surrounding trees, and the undergrowth of great ferns and shrubbery dripped even 
though the rain had stopped. The sky seemed clear and the white birds were 
singing their welcome to the dawn. The creek, she noticed, ran much fuller than 
when they had entered it last night. That was fortuitous: it meant that she would be 
able to travel farther up-stream in her boat. 
"Thank you, my friends," Anigel said, "but I think I will eat only this Wyvilo 
pastie and some of these berries for breakfast. It would be hard for me to start a 
fire in this dampness, and I would like to be quickly on my way." 
That would be a good thing, said one rimorik. 
The second one said: It is known to us that your enemies are fast approaching on 
the Water That Flows to the Sea. Our comrades tell us that the humans are very 
wet and very angry, and more eager than ever to catch you. 
Anigel sighed. "For some strange reason, I find it hard to fret over them now. I am 
no longer even afraid of the Three-Headed Monster! But I don't think this has 
anything to do with bravery. I am only sick of this quest and anxious to bring it to 
an end. When I have the talisman… well, perhaps then I will worry about how to 
save myself from the foe and return to my sisters." 
The creatures took hold of the punt's stern in their strong jaws and pulled it into 
the water. 
Share miton with us, and we will be on our way. 
She performed the ritual, then climbed into the boat. They began to move up the 
stream that the Wyvilo called the Kovuko, and slowly the sun climbed higher and 
the dense foliage of the Tassaleyo Forest began to steam. It grew so sultry that 
Anigel shed most of her clothing, save for the new shift she wore under her 
hunter's tunic and Immu's broad-brimmed hat. 
It had surprised her that the forest Folk's homes were so richly furnished with 
human luxuries. The modest Nyssomu of Trevista had household goods and 
garments mostly of their own manufacture; but the places she visited briefly in Let 

had been crammed with all manner of Ruwendian and Labornoki things — iron 
kettles and silver spoons, fancy oil-lamps and gilt candelabras, expensive leather 
furniture, seed-poppers and toasting forks, tapestries and paintings, plush toy 
animals, rugs, harps and mandolins and bagpipes, satin cushions, porcelain and 
fancy glassware, playing cards, game boards, and every sort of decorative trinket 
or knickknack that the Dylex crafters had ever invented. Speaker Sasstu-Cha and 
his wife had even owned a copper hipbath, of which they were inordinately proud. 
Anigel had soaked in it and washed with perfumed soap. The fresh clothing she 
wore came from the Speaker's subadult children, who were faddishly fond of 
certain kinds of human garb. 
Once she became used to their forbidding faces and rather grumpy mannerisms, 
Anigel quite liked the Wyvilo. They were a forthright people who worked very 
hard during the dry season and fought never-ending battles with their poorer 
Glismak cousins during the Rains. The Speaker confided to her sadly that the 
human traders had placed an embargo upon one kind of goods only: no weaponry 
was ever traded for Wyvilo forest products. 
"Both Ruwendians and Labornoki hold fast to this policy in their own selfinterest," 
Sasstu-Cha had told her. "For if we had modern weapons — swords and 
lanceheads of steel, and powerful crossbows — we would be able to defeat the 
Glismak once and for all, and extend our sway down the entire Great Mutar into 
the land of Var, and sell our timber to the agents of King Fiodelon more easily and 
profitably." 
Anigel had not known what to say. "It does not seem fair to deny your people the 
means to defend themselves. On the other hand, my little country lays claim to the 
northern Tassaleyo and depends upon its timber-exports to support its economy. 
Surely there must be a way to compromise, so that both Wyvilo and Ruwendians 
can live safely and prosperously." 
"If there is, only you Ruwendians can find it." 
"But we no longer rule. You know that Labornok has crushed us!" 
"Are you so sure? What of this talisman you seek? Is it not to provide your 
salvation?" 

"The Three Headed Monster?" Anigel gave a sad little laugh. "Do you really think 
I can tame such a thing and send it against our foe?" 
"No," the Speaker had said. "Not if your quest ends with the Three Headed 
Monster we know." 
He refused flatly to describe this thing further. But before Anigel departed from 
Let, he told her: "Soon it will be the Feast of the Three Moons. You can see, when 
they rise in the night sky, that the orbs are drawing closer and closer to each other, 
in the kind of conjunction that only occurs once in a thousand lifetimes. If it 
happens that this year the moons conjoin, then a great wonder work will certainly 
take place. And it could concern you, O Petal of the Living Trillium…" 
Anigel's boat moved up Kovuko Stream and the forest on either side changed 
character, becoming dryer and less choked with undergrowth. Many of the lofty 
columnar trees grew here; but there were others as well, of a most unusual aspect. 
They were about three times the height of a human being, herbaceous rather than 
woody. At their base was an open rosette of thick leaves, some individual trees 
having leaves colored purplish green, while others had leaves swirled with 
patterns of variegated green-gold. From the center of the rosette grew a stout 
fleshy trunk studded with short branches, each one of which had smaller leaves, 
together with brilliant flowers of luscious pink or magenta, and pendulous clusters 
of fruit having a most delectable smell. Atop the trunk was another cluster of 
larger leaves curving upward, forming a kind of chalice. The aspect of the trees 
was exotic but very appealing. They seemed almost like gigantic goblets with 
elaborately bejeweled stems. 
Charmed, Anigel proposed stopping and gathering some of this strange tree's fruit. 
Nay, friend. It would be your last meal. 
"Oh! Are the fruits poison?" 
They are delicious. But the tree uses them to bait its trap. 
With a shiver of fear, Anigel recalled certain words of Speaker Sasstu-Cha: "The 

trees of that place are as voracious as the Glismak themselves…" 
"They—they would eat me?" 
Or us, friend. Or any creature foolish enough to touch the tempting offerings that 
dangle from their trunks. 
They moved on up the stream, which now began to narrow rapidly and become 
more choked with rocks. There were fewer and fewer of the columnar "normal" 
trees now, and more of the goblets, together with many other species of sinister 
appearance. The land on either side of the stream rose, and they entered a wide, 
humid canyon. Strangely, no birds sang nor did Anigel see any animals. The forest 
was very quiet except for the tumbling waters of the creek and one far-distant 
scream that she heard, which then stopped abruptly. 
When the sun was nearly overhead, the two rimoriks drew the punt up below a 
patch of whitewater thick with boulders. For more than an hour now they had 
pushed the boat slowly from behind, squirming and humping through water that 
was no longer deep enough to swim in, while the banks grew steeper and the 
country more rocky. Now the two green-dappled creatures turned their great dark 
eyes upon the Princess and spoke the mental words she had anticipated with 
dread: 
Friend, we can take you no further. 
"Yes, I see. The water above the rapids is much too shallow." 
Slowly, she put her hunting garb back on. The friendly Wyvilo youths had given 
her blue boots, a knee-length tunic of blue leather, and an ornate belt that she had 
hooked her wallet to. The lace trimming of her new shift showed at the sleeves 
and hem of the tunic in a way no real hunter would have tolerated, but she did not 
care; she had so longed to feel something soft and clean next to her skin. Checking 
her supplies, she decided to leave Immu's raincape behind. Her garb was now 
weatherproof enough if it should storm again, and she no longer cared whether 
hands or face got wet. 
She strapped on her pack, settled Immu's grass hat, and as an afterthought 

arranged her small dagger where it could easily be pulled out. Then she said to the 
rimoriks: 
"My dear friends, what will you do now? Your home is so far away that I do not 
see how you can ever return. And this is my doing. Is it possible for you to make a 
life for yourselves in this forest?" 
There are none of our kind here. Only distant relatives. But that does not matter. 
We will wait here for you, with the boat, until you have fulfilled your quest. Then 
we will all return together to our own country. 
Tears blurred Anigel's vision. Stumbling a little, she stepped into the creek to kiss 
the top of each wet, glossy head. Then they all three shared miton. 
Again, away in the distance but echoing now against the canyon walls, there 
sounded an agonized scream. Anigel pretended not to hear it as she resettled her 
pack. A faint trail beginning above the rapids paralleled the creek on one bank and 
led up-stream. With a last wave to her friends, she set off alone into the forest. 
Chapter Thirty-Three 
It was the most frightful headache Haramis had ever had in all her life, and she 
moaned as she sat up in the great bed, and clasped her throbbing skull with both 
hands. She cursed herself for a fool, trying to remember exactly what had 
happened on the previous night. But pain and nausea defeated her. 
Had he cast a spell upon her, sapping her willpower, deceiving and ensnaring her? 
"I walked into his trap like a gauzewing flying into a lingit-web! I was as reckless 
as Kadiya ever could be, and even sillier than Anigel! Oh, my head hurts." 
Blearily, she peered about her prison. 
One wall of the chamber was cut stone hung with tapestries, and there were two 
small glazed windows through which she could see grey daylight and snow 
thickly falling. New candles in gilt sconces lit the other walls of rich wood 

wainscoting, hung with paintings of strange landscapes. There was a brisk fire in a 
fireplace framed in colored tiles and having curiously wrought andirons. But she 
was surprised to feel warm air also coming from a small grille in the wall next to 
the bed. 
She saw the door. It was of heavy gonda-wood, carved in a pattern of stars, and 
had iron bands and hinges and a massive lock-plate. 
Locked in. Trapped. 
How? 
The canopied bed with its downy comforter, soft sheets, and brocade hangings… 
She remembered Orogastus leading her to it when her senses had begun to fail, 
after they had sat long together by the fire conversing and sipping cup after cup of 
warm brandy. He had laughed as he closed the door, and the click of the lock had 
followed, and for some strange reason she had burst into tears. Then dizziness had 
overwhelmed her as she sat on the bed's edge, and with her last strength she had 
pulled off her outer garments and retreated into blackness. 
Poison. Had he tried to poison her, to steal — 
She lifted one shaking hand. But the talisman still hung safe between her breasts, 
suspended by its golden chain. The wand. The Three-Winged Circle. 
"Thank the Lords of the Air — " 
There was a knock at the door. 
"Go away," she moaned. "Can you not let me perish in peace?" 
"Haramis, you are not dying," Orogastus said calmly. "Open the door." 
"You have locked me in yourself, villain!" 

"Look on the table in front of the fire, Haramis." 
Slowly, to prevent her pounding head from breaking into pieces, she rose and slid 
out from under the covers. There were black fur slippers on the rug beside the bed, 
and a dressing-gown of heavy quilted black velvet lay neatly folded on a nearby 
bench. Having managed to put these on, Haramis tottered over to the fire. 
A graceful little table and a chair upholstered in red leather stood there. On the 
table was a basket of bread-rolls and a silver-gilt stand with crystal pots of jam. 
There was also a tall silver ewer, steaming spicily from its spout. And lying on a 
folded napkin of fine linen was a big brass key. 
"Please let me in," the sorcerer said. "It grieves me that you are suffering. I swear 
that I mean you no harm." 
Was he lying? Did she care? Whatever he did to her, she couldn't feel much worse 
than she did already. 
She picked up the key, staggered to the door, and after some fumbling managed to 
turn the key in the lock. 
He turned the latch-ring and entered, tall and dressed all in white. She felt one 
strong arm support her and lead her to the chair in front of the fire. She collapsed 
into it. 
"You could have opened the door quite easily yourself," she mumbled, accusing. 
"Don't deny it! You would not even have had to blast it with your lightnings. 
What lock could restrain a sorcerer? You or one of your attendant demons must 
have been in the room already, for the fire is lit and the table laid!" 
He was pouring some of the hot liquid into the cup. It was darci tea, and the smell 
of it raised her spirits the merest bit. 
"I have no attendants in this place. And I was not in the room, although I did cause 
the fire to burn and the food to appear. That was what I would call necessary 

magic." His deep voice was cheerful. "I admit I could have forced the lock, but 
that is hardly the way to treat a guest. Now drink your tea and eat your breakfast. I 
assure you that you will feel better after that. Then, if you feel you can forgive me, 
come again to my library in the main tower and we will resume our interrupted 
conversation of last night." 
She regarded him with deep uneasiness. "And if I decline to accept your 
hospitality any longer?" 
He bowed his head, concealing his face. "Your lammergeier sleeps on the top of 
this turret. It would come if you called. In the chamber across the corridor there is 
a balcony — covered with snow and ice, but with plenty of room for you to mount 
and fly off to wherever you choose… if that is really what you want to do." 
He went out the open door and closed it softly behind him. 
Haramis got up from the table and went to one of the windows. In spite of the 
blowing snow, she could see the dark chasm that split the flank of Mount Brom 
and isolated the tower of Orogastus from the passable region opposite. How had 
he gotten here from the Citadel? Surely he could not fly! And what had they 
talked of last night? 
Haramis remembered clearly coming to the tower yesterday evening, and 
Orogastus standing in the open doorway of the gatehouse, silhouetted against the 
light, welcoming her as a guest long expected. He had been polite but not 
presumptuous, seeming no sorcerer at all but only the well-bred lord of a rather 
unconventional manor house. 
His hair was the bright white of summer clouds, worn long to frame a 
countenance mature but unlined. The eyes that had blazed like baleful stars in her 
dreams and fancies now seemed to be the color of very deep water. He wore a 
loosely belted runic, narrow trews, and soft shoes — all spotlessly white. Around 
his neck was a platinum chain with a large medallion bearing the emblem of a 
many-rayed star. 
He had played the gracious host, showing her through certain parts of the tower 
such as the solar, the music room (this had surprised her), the great library, and 

finally his personal study. There, a crackling fire had banished any thought of the 
snowstorm howling outside. The floor was covered with fur rugs, and a candlelit 
table was set for two. 
Orogastus had cooked her a simple supper with his own hands. And then they had 
sat together on the rug before the fire, drinking brandy… 
"What did I tell him? "she asked herself. But she could not remember. 
She ate one bread-roll, slowly, and finished most of the tea. 
A small door she had not noticed earlier led to an adjacent bath-chamber, cleverly 
fitted and sumptuously designed. Flameless lights within crystal shells flashed on 
as she stepped into the room. Both walls and floor were tiled in pale green and 
warm to the touch —heated by a central hypocaust, she supposed. There was a tall 
gold-framed mirror and a dressing table with golden combs and brushes, a large 
collection of other exquisitely made toiletries, and little pots of cosmetics, bottles 
of fragrant essences to perfume the water, and body powder with a down puff. Hot 
and cold water came of itself from gilt spigots and poured into a greenstone tub 
almost large enough to swim in. The water shut itself off when the tub was full. 
There were stacks of soft towels ready. Instead of a garderobe there was a water 
closet, an exotic luxury she had heard of, but never seen. 
Haramis sank happily into the warm water. But even in the water, she kept the 
talisman secure on its chain around her neck. 
She went to Orogastus later, dressed in the riding clothes the Vispi had given her 
and with her black hair hanging in a single braid down her back. She found him in 
the library, poring over a great book, making notes on a strange glowing tablet 
with a stylus. When she approached, he laid a fringed leather bookmark on the 
page and closed the volume. The tablet he touched with a finger at one corner; it 
dimmed, and the writing upon it disappeared. 
"Do not let me interrupt," she said civilly. "If you wish to read on, it would give 
me pleasure to examine some of your rare books more closely." 
"Your scholarly inclination is famed throughout the peninsula, Lady. It was one 

reason why my royal master, King Voltrik, proposed marriage to you." 
She uttered a small laugh. "One reason, forsooth!" She bent, casually, to examine 
the tablet. "What is this? I saw you inscribe words upon it, and yet the tablet is 
now blank." 
His expression was neutral. "It is a device of the Vanished Ones, and all such are 
magic." 
"I am not so sure of that," she said slowly. It doesn't feet magical, she thought. 
Orogastus was looking at her suspiciously, so she hastily changed the subject. 
"You told me you have many of their things." 
"Yes." 
She picked up the tablet idly. "How does this work?" 
"Another time," he said pleasantly, and tried to take it from her. But Haramis kept 
a firm hold on it, pulling back, and it slipped from his fingers and struck lightly 
against the talisman hanging at her breast. A spark crackled from the wand to the 
tablet, and the tablet's glow vanished abruptly. 
Haramis hastily set it down. Oh, no, she thought uneasily. I didn't mean to break 
it, but will he believe that—or care? 
Orogastus seemed to be controlling himself with great difficulty. Haramis edged 
nervously backward, away from him, and tucked the Three-Winged Circle away 
into her bodice. 
He picked up the tablet and pressed his fingertip to it in several places, but the 
glow did not return. "It's dead," he said between clenched teeth, lifting his eyes to 
glare at her. 
Haramis, who had been considering an apology for the damage she had 
inadvertently done, lost her temper at that. Her eyes glittered, and her voice 
sharpened. "Dead?" she snapped. "That device was never alive! My parents are 

dead —and at your instigation!" 
He was silent. 
She whirled away from him and went to the great library window. The mad 
dancing of the wind-driven snow reflected the turmoil that had suddenly broken 
out in her mind. Since the fall of the Citadel she had not had much leisure to 
remember the events of that day, and they were certainly something she had 
preferred not to think about. But now, suddenly, the memories flooded back: the 
squire's account of her father's murder, the sight of her mother, bleeding to 
death… Tears streamed down Haramis's cheeks. 
"Haramis." 
She cut him off. "What an idiot I have been! You lured me here with your black 
arts, and because I am young and a fool, you were able to lull my fears and make 
me forget who you really are. And who I am!" 
He had come up behind her, and now he laid a hand on her shoulder and turned 
her about. He spoke softly, almost sadly, and there were tiny silvery reflections 
from the blizzard deep in his eyes. 
"Do you not also remember that I kissed the palm of your hand, and told you how 
I had loved you ever since the wretched Voltrik showed me your portrait? And do 
you not remember my telling you how I recognized you as the one destined to 
share power with me?" 
"You are the enemy of the Archimage who has protected our kingdom so long 
against its enemies. Deny it if you dare! You are the one responsible for 
destroying the great balance of the world, the one who worships the Dark Powers! 
You would steal my talisman, and those of my sisters — " 
He kissed her. 
For a moment she stood rigid in his arms. But his lips were sweet, and warmth 
from them flowed through her body. She felt dizzy, as if everything were whirling 

madly about and he was the only solid thing in the room. Her arms encircled him 
and she clung to him. The talisman against her breast warmed with the surging 
and unfamiliar energies, passing first from him into her, and then back and forth in 
mounting intensity until her lips and body seemed they would burst into flame. 
In her mind, she heard his voice. We are both wielders of magic, Haramis—born 
to command the stars! They have lied to you, who say I am evil. Iam not. I seek 
wisdom, truth, and the power and joy that goes with them. Only listen to me! Let 
me explain why your poor parents died, why I have suffered King Voltrik to carry 
out this conquest, why you and your sisters were pursued. Let me show you the 
true importance of the three talismans and the Threefold Sceptre of Power! And 
then make up your own mind… your mind so akin to my own. I have called out to 
you over the leagues and drawn you to me. You came freely! You know you did! 
You know I love you. Now dare to love me in return! Now, Haramis. Now… 
Haramis stirred. She lifted her head, and gently disengaged herself from his arms. 
Her body felt strange, her mind bewildered. "What have you done to me?" 
"Haramis, you love me. Your body tells me so even as your heart tries to deny 
it—" 
"No! No…" 
But she was clinging to him again. "I am cold. So cold." 
The flying snow lashed at the window, seeking to penetrate the glass, to reach her, 
to cover her with its pristine whiteness and quench the last dwindling embers that 
had awakened and blazed within her. She saw the White Lady, dying in solitary 
pain. She saw herself reflected in a mirror of black ice. 
She saw him. 
"Let us go to your study," she whispered at last. "It's much warmer there. I will 
listen to what you have to say." 
But that night, alone in her chamber, she remembered her parents and cried herself 

to sleep. 
Chapter Thirty-Four 
Anigel walked slowly but steadily, going gradually uphill alongside the dwindling 
watercourse. It struck her after a time that she was moving through the very kind 
of strange woodland she had dreamed of after going over Tass Falls. And—yes! 
—she had dreamed the same dream again last night, only forgotten it: the forest 
where her Mother the Queen, wearing her Crown of State and all the royal regalia, 
walked far ahead and she, 
Anigel, ran after, trying with all of her strength to catch up. 
Today in real life, there was no Queen. Her poor Mother was dead. And the 
Crown was with Haramis, heiress to the throne — if she still lived. 
Anigel's heart pounded now with exertion as the trail became steeper. Thank God 
the terrible goblet-trees no longer grew so thickly! But a new kind now became 
commonplace, having a most horrid appearance, that she was careful not to touch 
or even come close to. These trees were tall and robust, crowned by a heavy head 
of wiry green foliage. All up and down their smooth trunks were ovoid openings 
nearly an ell in length, like vertical mouths. These were studded with polished 
green spikes all around the edges, like teeth, and constantly opened and closed 
from side to side as though the tree were breathing. The movement was 
accompanied by a soft sound like the murmuring of a breeze or discordant, 
chilling music. She knew at once that these trees were carnivores, even worse than 
the goblets. Their yawning dark mouths sought prey: they only opened and closed 
and sang as she passed. The trees sensed her. Wanted her. 
"Lords of the Air, what awful things!" Anigel took hold of her amulet as fear 
gripped her once again. And then a new and terrible realization came stealing over 
her and she began to shudder, unable to take another step forward, and felt the 
flesh crawl on her bare arms. 
Where was the path? 
It had disappeared. 

Only pristine vegetation lay beneath her feet. How long had she been walking off 
the trail? She had no idea. She had only thought of following the creek. She stood 
paralyzed with fright, surrounded by the monstrous trees, not knowing which way 
to turn. 
"White Lady!" she cried impulsively aloud. "Help me!" 
The amulet inside her clenched fist had become very warm. When she let it fall 
free at last, the honey-amber glowed brightly even in the broad daylight. The 
terrible fanged trees hummed and moaned all around her, nearly drowning out the 
brawling little brook. 
The leaf. Cut the leaf, 
"What? What did you say?" She swung about, seeking the one who had spoken. 
But there was no one. "Lady — is that you?" 
The Black Trillium leaf. Cast it from you. Let it lead. 
Her hands shook so that she could hardly open the wallet. Clouds had come over 
the sun, bringing a gloomy dusk to the canyon. She felt as though she were 
freezing. The leaf— 
It crackled as she drew it forth. The entire broad blade was dry now, dun-colored 
instead of green. Only at the very tip of the stem remained a tiny fleck of gold that 
glittered even in the deepening shadows. 
Cast it forth — 
Rising on tiptoe, she threw the leaf into the air. There was no wind, and yet it 
soared slowly away, leading her up the creek bank. As though she were 
sleepwalking, she followed. The leaf drifted along faster. She began to run. 
Uphill. The way ever steeper. The undergrowth thicker, darker. There was only 
that dancing bit of gold on brown, wafting ahead, drawing her on — 

She came into a clearing. It was the canyon's head, all framed in moss-grown 
rock. The stream had its source in a wispy little trickle of water that fell from a 
tremendous height, blanketing the clearing in thin mist. 
And beside the waterfall grew a tree. 
It was the most immense living thing she had ever seen. Beside it, the other forest 
giants were insignificant. Mere straws. Thirty men could have stood shoulder to 
shoulder in front of this tree without giving the measure of its trunk. It was of the 
same species as the thorn-mawed carnivores back along the trail, but its mighty 
bole had only a single opening in between the buttresses of two roots, and this was 
of the same size as that of its lesser kin. Princess Anigel stood before it utterly 
amazed, forgetting her fear. Her gaze lifted and she saw that its height exceeded 
that of the cliff from which the water fell. 
And instead of one leafy head, the tree had three. 
She approached it, seeing the fanged mouth constantly open and close, open and 
close, faster and faster. Its breath was a soft roar of a note so deep that it might 
have escaped ears less keen than hers. And inside the mouth was not darkness, as 
in the mouths of the smaller trees, but a rich golden glow that was twin to the 
color of her own amulet. 
The Three-Headed Monster held her talisman. 
And its breath came faster and faster because it was afraid. 
"Of me," said Princess Anigel. "Afraid of me!" 
It was part of the wonder that she knew exactly what to do. At the foot of the little 
cascade lay piles of dead wood, the remains of trees that had been swept over 
during the season of flooding. She took up a sound billet, about as long as her arm 
but thicker, and walked directly to the gaping mouth between the roots. 
The glow from the cavity intensified and her amulet blazed. Calmly, she held the 
small log in both hands, horizontal in front of her. She studied the rhythm of the 

opening and closing for a moment, then with one quick movement thrust her arms 
into the thorny jaws. 
The mouth began to engulf the wood. And could not. The log was wedged against 
the cavity walls, propping them open. 
The tree roared. 
But Anigel knew that it was voicing fear, not fury. She had let go of the wooden 
billet, and now the tree exerted its great strength to crush the foreign thing. The 
log buckled and began to splinter, but for a moment more the mouth was propped 
open — 
Quite long enough for Anigel to lean forward over the bristling teeth, snatch the 
thing that lay within, and leap back out of reach before the log broke with a great 
crack and the mouth snapped tightly shut and remained so, the edges of the bark 
pursed into a knot hardly as broad as her two fists. 
Anigel held a coronet, a C-shaped open tiara of brilliant silvery metal, having six 
small cusps and three larger. It was strangely and beautifully wrought with 
rocaille-work scrolling, shells and flowers, and within each of the three larger 
points was a stylized grotesque visage. One of the monster-faces had an opening 
beneath it — and she knew what fit there. 
Withdrawing to the streamside, she sat upon a rock, took off her hat, unfastened 
the chain of her trillium amulet, and slipped the gold-framed bit of amber off. It 
went perfectly into the hole at the front of the coronet, and when it was in place it 
could not be removed. The fossil flower within the amulet was now completely 
open except for a slight curling of the petal edges. 
Anigel put the coronet on, and went back to stand before the tree. 
It was silent, and its mouth remained tightly closed. 
"Now the talisman is mine," Anigel told it. "You guarded the treasure well, but I 
am the one for whom it was intended. You do not have to be afraid. I will leave 

you here in peace." 
She turned away. Strangely, her eyes had filled with tears. She felt a new heavy 
weight in the pit of her stomach and a sense that something else —something 
terrible —impended. She thought: I have my talisman—but it is only one of three. 
What of my sisters? 
Instantly, the tree and the clearing and the waterfall disappeared. 
She saw in a flash another place, a scene deep in a swamp overgrown with huge 
thorn-ferns. Kadiya! 
Her sister was crouching, tear-stained and screaming defiance, in the midst of a 
crowd of armed men, knights of Labornok. She wore no trillium amulet, but she 
held close against her heart something like a sword, with a pommel that glowed 
with a throbbing amber light. And in the background stood a tall hideous being 
with glaring orange eyes and bloodstained teeth. 
Before Anigel could draw a breath to cry out at the awful sight the picture was 
gone. She saw instead a cozy tower room in some keep, with rich hangings and 
fur rugs upon the floor and a table spilling over with stacks of ancient books. A 
handsome man with snow-white hair wearing a robe of black and silver sat on 
cushions before a fire, with a lovely young dark haired woman beside him. 
He kissed the palm of her left hand. In the other she held a wand of bright metal, 
topped by an open silvery circle, with three folded wings surmounting it. And the 
woman was Haramis… 
No! No! 
Anigel tore the coronet from her brow and dashed it onto the mossy forest floor. 
No — the visions lied. Brave Kadiya in the hands of Labornoki, threatened by 
Skritek? Wise Haramis consorting with the foul sorcerer Orogastus? Never! 
Never! 

If these two were indeed lost then who was the woman prophesied who would 
overthrow Labornok and restore Ruwenda? Herself? How ridiculous! What a 
joke! What a cruel, cruel joke… 
She flung herself on the ground and sobbed as though her heart would break, 
cringing away from the discarded coronet as though it were truly as loathsome as 
its name. So this was her talisman! The end of her long quest, the fulfillment of 
the White Lady's solemn command! The talisman was a liar — a spinner of 
nightmares worse than any her own craven self could ever concoct. It was nothing 
but a Monster. 
… But in her dream, Queen Kalanthe had said that her sisters had gone on other 
roads. It was she, Anigel, who was being washed and readied for—what? 
Gradually her sobbing eased, her breathing slowed and became more regular, and 
she fell fast asleep. 
She woke suddenly an hour later. Had there been a sound? Perhaps one of those 
mysterious screams? She was unsure. At any rate, she felt much better. She bathed 
her face in the streamlet, washed her hands, and ate a bit. Then she picked up the 
coronet and studied it for a long time. The three grotesque faces on it seemed to be 
smiling slyly. 
It is a sign, she decided, and a tool. I know one thing it can do; conjure visions. 
But whether those visions are the embodiment of my own fears or true things I 
cannot tell. But I am going to find out. 
She put it firmly on her head, and Immu's hat over it, and started back the way she 
had come. 
"My Prince, the punts can go no further." 
The sergeant who had been poling the lead-boat up Kovuko Stream called out the 
unwelcome news, whereupon the straggling string of overloaded craft all gathered 
together in a rocky pool below a stretch of rough water where the creek ran hardly 
calf-deep. 

Antar, his knights, and the Blue Voice gathered in one group to confer, while the 
exhausted soldier-boatmen refreshed themselves by sloshing about in the stream, 
munching some of their meager rations, and lying in the shade of the peculiar 
goblet-trees. None of the Labornoki knew the true nature of the goblets; but they 
had learned well the lesson of avoiding unknown fruits, and so left the offerings of 
the trees unmolested. 
"From here we must walk," Antar said. "Since the heat is so oppressive, I suggest 
that we doff all armor save for our helmets, breastplates, and backpieces — " 
"My Prince!" the sergeant shouted from the opposite side of the stream. "I think I 
have found traces of the fugitive!" 
They all went splashing over, and there beneath the great drooping fronds of a 
patch of fodderfern they found one of the oddly made Wyvilo boats. In its bottom 
was folded neatly a small leather raincape of Nyssomu design. 
"This cape is of the style worn at Trevista," the sergeant said. "I remember well 
the stamped decoration about the hood. Such were offered for sale in the market 
of Lusagira Square. It may belong to the Princess." 
The Blue Voice pushed forward through the crowd of knights. "Give it to me. I 
will subject it to a test." 
With the garment held tightly in his bony hands, he threw back his shaven head 
and closed his eyes. "Dark Powers, hear me! Reveal to thy suppliant who has 
worn this cape." He lifted the thing to his nostrils and breathed of it, and then 
intoned in a very different voice: "It has been worn by Immu, servant to the royal 
family of Ruwenda, and Anigel, Princess of Ruwenda." 
"Zoto's stripes!" cried the delighted Sir Rinutar. "A true sign of the wench at last! 
I had begun to think we pursued a phantom." 
The Blue Voice opened his eyes, restored his hood, and tossed the cape back into 
the translucent canoe. "The Princess had it close to her not more than two hours 
ago. We must be nearly upon her. It behooves us to move on and waste no more 

time." 
"Very well," said the Prince. "Sergeant, assemble your men. And you, my 
companions, prepare to — " 
A scream came from the grove of goblet-trees across the creek. With an oath, the 
Prince whirled about. He saw a single soldier come running down to the shore, 
yelling and cursing. The sergeant hurried to see what had befallen, followed by 
the noble party. 
"It ate poor old Gomi!" the wild-eyed fellow declared. "Swallowed him slick as 
fogberry jam!" 
Everyone began to shout at once, but the sergeant called for two of his soldiers to 
take up their weapons, and said to the Prince, "Let me go and investigate." 
He returned in a few moments stone-faced and reported: "It was one of the strange 
cup-shaped trees, my Prince. The man-at-arms Gomladik ventured to relieve 
himself against its trunk, and according to the witness four slender arms like great 
worms issued from the tree's open crown, laid hold of him, and hoisted him aloft." 
The Prince and the knights now accompanied the sergeant deeper into the grove, 
where the goblet-trees stood innocuous as a display in a bizarre jeweler's shop. 
But one tree was guarded by two soldiers, and its upper leaves had now closed in 
upon themselves, giving the appearance of a large ball. From the interstices of this 
oozed red blood and bodily fluids, which flowed down the trunk and puddled 
within the other leaves splayed on the ground. 
They all regarded the sight with horror and revulsion; but before another word 
could be said more shouting broke out among the men left at the creek side. 
"To arms! To arms! Hostile natives approach!" 
The devoured Gomladik was forgotten. Antar, Sir Owanon, and the sergeant led 
the race back to the water, shouting orders. In moments, soldiers were 
manhandling the wooden punts out of the stream as fast as they could and piling 

them up to form an improvised barricade. Knights clapped on their helms and 
drew their swords while the soldiers armored themselves as best they could and 
readied their crossbows. Sacks of supplies, discarded clothing, and odd bits of 
equipment littered the bank and even drifted slowly downstream. 
And it was at once very quiet. 
"Blue Voice," whispered the Prince from behind his overturned boat. "Have you 
farseen the foe?" 
"A moment… a moment." The sorcerer's minion lay near the barricade's end, 
squashed between Sir Rinutar and a soldier, in an attitude uncongenial to trancing. 
He pulled himself together, his eye-sockets seemed to empty, and he froze. "Yes, I 
see them! Across the stream, lurking among the killer-trees. There are twenty… 
forty… Dark Powers forfend, so many I can scarcely count! And they be not 
Wyvilo, my Prince. These natives are larger and altogether more terrible in aspect 
—beyond doubt, the cannibal Glismak!" 
"Enough," Antar said. And to the others: "My men, have courage. They are 
Oddling savages, for all their fearsome look, and inferior to us. We can yet win 
the day." 
"Look," Owanon said quietly. "The first of them." 
Six beings stole through the ferny undergrowth and stood poised on the opposite 
bank not ten ells distant. They were less humanoid than the Wyvilo and taller than 
men, and carried long spears pointed with flint. They wore no clothing, but a few 
had jeweled ornaments and all wore belts, from which stone maces and other 
implements of war hung. Their heads were muzzled and their teeth, especially the 
two protruding tusks in front, very large and sharp. Deep set eyes of a burning red 
were armored about the orbits with shining skin plates; these plates also covered 
their heads and extended down their shoulders, backs, and upper arms, and were a 
natural part of their bodies. The three-digit hands and feet had both webs and 
formidable claws. Only a few scattered plates guarded their bellies, and these and 
most of the limbs and face were clothed in thick rusty-red fur. Scanty fur also 
grew around the margins of the plates, which were, in each individual, of a 
slightly different color and patterning. In truth, the Glismak had a savage beauty 

about them — as well as an air of supreme confidence. 
One of the six stepped forward and began a croaking harangue, waving his spear. 
When he finished, he tossed the weapon with all his strength and the stone blade 
sank deeply into the tough wood of the Prince's dugout. The other five Glismak 
cocked their arms. 
"Cross bowmen," Antar said, "missiles away." 
A hail of iron quarrels shot across the stream. Five of the Glismak fell, screaming 
hideously. The sixth uttered a trumpeting howl, which was answered by hundreds 
more, and came bounding over the water. His fellows poured from the gobletforest 
behind, whooping and screeching, flinging their spears and brandishing 
their other weapons. 
Within seconds the small force of Labornoki was engulfed by the horde. The 
crossbows became useless at close hand and soldiers fought with short-swords or 
daggers, while the knights laid about with their great two-handed swords, hacking 
and hewing until the sheer press of Glismak bodies toppled them. 
The sergeant managed to gut two of the monsters before a third came up behind 
him with open jaws and delivered a fatal bite to his neck. The few soldiers who 
were not overwhelmed in the first minutes ran for their lives, only to be chased 
down by the long-legged brutes, who clawed their flesh from their bones. The 
fallen were immediately rent limb from limb and in the midst of battle a diabolical 
feast began. Eerie Glismak howls drowned out the dying cries of the soldiers. 
By then Prince Antar and all of his knights were downed. But strangely enough 
the fiends did not mangle them nor strip off their armor, but rather took away their 
swords and trussed them hand and foot with rawhide cords, and picking them up 
like dolls tossed them clanking and cursing into a great bloodstained pile. 
Several score of the victorious Glismak now began to dance and chant about the 
heap of helpless humans, who subsided into hopelessness and began to say their 
final prayers. Others of the man eaters set about to gather dry driftwood from 
along the creek, which they made into a great stack, together with the Labornoki 
punts, and prepared to set it alight. It was evident that the next course of the 

Glismak feast was to be cooked. 
"God have mercy upon us all," moaned Prince Antar, who lay at the top of the 
tangled mass of prisoners, "and may he damn the sorcerer Orogastus, who sent us 
to this ignoble death, to the deepest of the ten pits of hell." 
The chanting and the howling of the Glismak abruptly broke off. 
The dancing stopped. Those of the mob who were still finishing off tidbits of raw 
flesh desisted from their gruesome feeding and stood astonished. Every savage 
without exception now was motionless, open-mouthed, staring at something that 
seemed to be approaching from upstream. Antar wriggled his fettered body about 
and finally gained a position in which he could see for himself who was coming. 
A woman. 
She stood on the small creek side path, a dozen ells from the pile of knights and 
within arm's reach of the nearest Glismak. She wore a hunting outfit of sky-blue 
leather and had a pack on her back, and in one hand carried a broad-brimmed 
grass hat and in the other a sapling cut for a walking-stick. Her hair was golden 
and fell below her shoulders in shimmering waves. Resting upon her head was a 
strangely wrought coronet of shining white metal, with trillium amber inset at the 
front. 
Her face was a mask of horror and outrage and tears were trickling down her 
cheeks. 
Prince Antar's heart turned over in his breast. He knew that face, and it was the 
most beautiful he had ever seen and the only one he had ever loved. It was 
Princess Anigel herself come by mischance into the scene of slaughter, and surely 
the fiends would fall upon her next— 
But they did not. They shrank back as she walked into their bloodstained midst, 
and some uttered low grunts and even whimpers. She looked upon the human 
bones and torn remnants of clothing and the heap of bound armored knights who 
now lay frozen in their contemplation of her audacity and peril. 

"What have you done?" she demanded of the Glismak. Tears still shone on her 
face, but her voice was steady. 
There were scattered growls, and an uneasy hissing. 
One individual came forth from among those who had danced. He was taller than 
the rest, and his belt had golden studs, and a gold sheath enclosed his flint dagger. 
The scales of his body were richly adorned with painted designs of green and 
yellow and scarlet. 
The Glismak chieftain pointed at Anigel's coronet with one bloody claw and 
roared a challenging phrase in his own language. 
"I have a right to wear it," the Princess said unflinchingly. She dropped the hat 
and wiped the tears from her eyes with the back of one hand. "And I say you have 
done a wicked thing. These men were my enemies, not yours. They did you no 
harm and yet you massacred them and ate their flesh like beasts! But you are not 
beasts, you are persons meant to serve the Triune God and one another, and what 
you did was evil." 
The Glismak chieftain uttered a terrible sound that could only be laughter. And 
then he lifted clawed hands, opened his mouth so that his knife-like teeth shone in 
the gloomy late afternoon light, and advanced upon the helpless girl. 
Anigel pointed her walking-stick at him and said calmly, "Lords of the Air, defend 
me." 
From out of the overcast and louring sky came a blue bolt of lightning. It blinded 
the captive knights and its thunder pained their ears so greatly that they nearly lost 
consciousness. When they regained their wits they saw the Princess standing wideeyed, 
and the Glismak chieftain blasted to a smoking cinder. 
The entire horde of cannibal Oddlings fell on their faces from fear and awe. 
"Go away!" Anigel said in a high, clear voice. "Go away, and don't come back." 

A fierce head or two lifted from the ground. The Glismak hesitated — and then 
they were up and running, the entire mob of them, howling at the top of their 
lungs, and a few still growling defiance. They crossed the stream and raced into 
the forest, and were lost from sight, and the Princess looked down upon the 
fuming carcass at her feet with both astonishment and fear. 
Now Antar cried out: "Princess Anigel! We here yet live. Will you set us free?" 
She snapped out of her reverie and came running, and with her small dagger cut 
the rawhide thongs. The knights sorted themselves out, and the unhurt among 
them helped the wounded unstrap their armor and go down to the water. Prince 
Antar, when he had done what he could, went to Anigel and lowered himself to 
his knees before her. 
"Princess, I have no sword to surrender to you. So I, Antar, Crown Prince of 
Labornok, surrender my body and soul. I cannot be your enemy. You are noble 
and good and those who commanded me to pursue you and put you to death are 
evil. If you would blast me to death as you did yon brutish wretch, then that is 
only the punishment I deserve. But if you will spare me I will serve you faithfully 
as your slave, for the rest of my days." 
"And I," said Sir Owanon, coming forward and also kneeling. 
"And I," groaned Sir Penapat, who was having his wounds washed. 
This knight and that echoed these two, and the ones who were able-bodied came 
to kneel, until only Sir Rinutar and two of his henchmen, Onbogar and Turat, 
stood back. 
Suddenly the mass of ferns that had concealed Anigel's boat parted, and there 
sitting concealed in the craft was none other than the Blue Voice, who climbed 
out, waded the stream, and approached the Princess with an ingratiating smile. 
"Great and powerful Lady," quoth he, making a profound bow, "I am slave to 
another Master who has bound me until eternity. But I vow to you on his honor to 
serve and follow you as well as I may, and I place my poor powers at your 

command if you will condescend to accept me." 
As the Blue Voice spoke he turned to Rinutar and their eyes met for an instant. 
"And perhaps these three brave knights, who shrink from rescinding their oaths of 
fealty to Labornok, will join me as I pledge a truce to you. We are humans 
together, beleaguered in a strange land, and we should not be at odds while so 
terrible an enemy threatens all us. 
"Aye," Rinutar growled. "I will pledge a truce, as will my men." 
Anigel gazed upon the Blue Voice for a moment unspeaking, and also studied the 
three. Then she said: "Very well. Rise, Prince — and also you men who now 
deem me your Lady. In a few hours it will be nightfall. We have nothing more to 
fear from the Glismak, but nevertheless we cannot camp in this place of disaster. I 
will confer with the Prince and decide what we are to do. Meanwhile, you must 
gather up what weapons and supplies you can, and remove your punts from the 
bonfire stack. But do not tear the woodpile apart. Rather place on it the sad 
remains of your comrades, and before we quit this spot we will fire it to their 
honor." 
Murmurs of approval met her words. She beckoned for Prince Antar to follow her 
as she walked a ways down the bank of the stream, and when they were beyond 
earshot of the others said: 
"The tall man in blue is not to be trusted." 
"I know. He is a Voice of the abominable sorcerer, Orogastus. We shall have to 
keep close eye on him as we make our way back… You do intend to return to 
Ruwenda, do you not, my Lady?" 
"In time," said she. Her blue eyes were solemn and the pupils wide in the shadow. 
"But first I have another duty. The Glismak horde will surely go now to the 
Wyvilo settlement of Let and attack it. They were on their way when they 
encountered you. We must hurry there as fast as possible to warn the forest Folk, 
and do what we can to help them." 
"Aye!" said the Prince in admiration. "We knights shall guard you with our blades 

while you call down thunderbolts to slay the devilish Glismak!" 
Anigel drew back from him with a gasp of horror. "No!" 
"But how then shall we save the Wyvilo, Lady? We are sixteen men —twenty if 
you count the three unpledged and the sorcerer's lackey — and some of us are 
wounded. The Glismak must number in the hundreds. Do you suppose we can 
counter such a vast army of savages without your magical assistance?" 
"I did not know the talisman would kill," she whispered. And there was terror in 
her eyes. "I did not know…" 
Antar took her hand. The tears were starting again. He lifted her calloused, 
scratched fingers to his lips. "Don't worry. Perhaps you can try the powers of the 
thing as we travel, and find gentler means of defense." 
She drew away impatiently, again thinking only of the task ahead. "We shall rest 
tonight, then press on tomorrow even until night, so that we reach Let ahead of the 
Glismak." 
"Travel at night?" Antar was nonplussed. "Lady, we amateur boatmen cannot 
possibly navigate the Great Mutar by the light of the Triple Moons — and it may 
well storm again." 
A tiny smile curved Anigel's lips. "We shall have the services of excellent 
guides." 
She went down to the stream bank, still smiling, and called: Friends! 
Chapter Thirty-Five 
Hamil came striding up to Kadiya, two of his troopers flanking them with torches. 
His hand again gripped her hair, and pulled her to her knees. 
He was laughing and she heard other voices join him. "Now you are showing the 
proper spirit, Krain's daughter: humbly — on your knees. What game has been 

played here?" 
His eyes darted about—to the straight-standing sword and then to that odious 
blackened pile. One charred, skeletal hand seemed to point to the object of power 
its owner had coveted. 
There was a long moment of silence and then Hamil laughed again, but less 
assuredly. Several score armed men now had gathered, but all carefully avoided 
the thing lying on the ground. 
"So, it looks as if the Voice told the truth and yet did not believe it himself! Was 
that the way of it, slut?" The General shook Kadiya back and forth by that 
tormenting hold on her hair. "He strove to take the talisman and it was bonded to 
you, and thus it slew him." 
He loosened his hold on her and ran a finger back and forth along his lower lip. 
Kadiya had heard enough of the General to know that he, brute as he had proved 
himself to be, was also wily and keener-witted than he looked. 
Some of the men fell away from the edge of the circle about them, giving way to 
another officer, a huge man. His ragged cloak had once been as ornate as Hamil's 
but he went without a helmet and there was a dirty bandage about his head, a 
bristle of grey stubble on cheeks and chin. 
"What now, my General?" There was a sharpness in his voice which argued that 
they might be fellows in a fight but no shield brothers. 
Hamil had no chance to answer before a voice from somewhere among the ranks 
cried: 
"Lash the witch to the sword, and into the bog with her!" 
There was an answering hum of assent to that. Then another trooper gave different 
advice: 
"Turn the Skritek on her!" 

To that there was even firmer agreement. The gathering of men had moved farther 
away from Kadiya, the edges of the crowd melting into the dark where the torch 
and firelight did not easily reach. It would seem that the import of that blasted 
body was making itself stronger and more widely felt. 
Hamil swept the assemblage with a glare which apparently his men knew only too 
well, for the murmur ceased as if a door had been suddenly slammed shut. Then 
he turned to the big officer. 
"What now, Osorkon? Why, we obey orders. Always we obey orders! We came to 
find this." Again his grip on Kadiya's hair caught her tight enough to make her 
sway back and forth. "Well, we have found it. We have something else, too —" 
He pointed to the talisman. "If King Voltrik rewards well those who bring one of 
these royal wenches to him, what kind of gift will he bestow upon those who 
produce a treasure our Grand Minister of State mightily wishes to own?" 
"A treasure," Osorkon accented the word strongly, "which has already disposed of 
one who knows far more than any of us about its dangers." 
"Yes." Hamil's tongue tip ran across his fleshy lips. He dragged Kadiya up from 
her knees so he had not so far to look down to meet her eyes squarely. "I think you 
will be more truthful with us now. There are ways we know well how to handle 
those who are all courage and zeal, so that in the end they are only too glad to do 
our will even if that means slaying one very near to their heart." He snapped his 
fingers and again the crowd of men opened as one of the Skritek slouched forward 
in answer. 
"Pellan!" Hamil made an order of that name. From the back rows of the troops 
tottered a skeletal figure. Kadiya, who had seen the merchant-guide in the days of 
his well-fed and honored life among his fellows, could not recognize him at first. 
It was a human wreck who fell to his knees rather than make formal obeisance, 
and looked up to the General with a face like one belonging to the dead. 
Hamil leaned forward to gaze intently at the talisman. Now he nodded as if he had 
been answered with just what he wanted to hear. "It is still there…"In spite of the 
transformation the sword had undergone, the snakeskin twist the Voice had 

produced for its handling was still safely looped about it. 
"Pellan, tell this stupid brute to take that sword up, and put it back on the girl's 
back, using only the cord." 
The man gulped as if he found it difficult to speak. Then he voiced a stream of 
gutturals. The Skritek looked at him, at the sword, then at Hamil. Fanged jaws 
opened and the creature made an answer in his own grumbling speech. 
Pellan's face was white beneath the grime of swamp travel. Kadiya saw that his 
hands were shaking, and that he put them hastily together in a tight grip. 
"Well?" demanded Hamil, after a long moment of silence. 
"Lord General — he will not touch that." The guide nodded toward the sword. 
"He says it is of the Vanished Ones and holds their force." 
"So?" Hamil's expression did not change. He caught the loop of snakeskin, jerking 
the blade free from the ground. Then he wheeled slowly, as if to make very sure 
that all men gathered there were perfectly aware of what he was doing. 
"The Vanished Ones," he commented. "We have heard a great deal about these 
Vanished Ones since we started plowing through this bog. See you, all of you! 
Need one wearing the emblem of great Labornok be fearful of legends?" 
Osorkon coughed. "And what of him?" He pointed to the charred remains. "It 
would seem that some legends hold legitimate warnings." 
Hamil did not even blink, but Kadiya was very sure at that moment that the 
General held no liking for his immediate subordinate. Through witnessing the 
slow indrawing of the soldiers, she was also aware that their General's gesture had 
banished some of their fear-inspired awe. 
"That one," Hamil nodded to the cinders, "was one who played with such magical 
toys. Perhaps those of his master are safe enough, but this thing here is of a 
different source. A man who handles certain weapons without hurt grows careless. 

I think this Voice took too much on himself." 
The General was back at Kadiya's side now. His heavy paw on her shoulder spun 
her around so that she might have fallen again. But she was able to keep her feet 
as she felt the sword slipped slowly back among the ropes that bound her. 
Hamil had already turned away. He beckoned to a trooper who stood immediately 
by the nearest torchman. Leveling his hand, he pointed to the Skritek who had 
refused his order. 
"That one we do not need," he commented. 
The Skritek roared and crouched. An axe with a wicked double head appeared in 
one scaled fist. The creature's defiant cry was answered by several others of his 
kind. 
The soldier Hamil had summoned took a leap forward, his sword up and ready. It 
appeared that this was not the first time the Labornoki had faced one of their 
unpleasant allies in combat. 
As the axe left the claws of the Skritek, it moved with such force and speed that it 
was but a blur in the uncertain light. But the soldier had already launched himself 
forward, not to meet the weapon but in a fighting stance. At the same time his 
sword flashed, and there was a spurt of dark blood. The Skritek threw up his head 
with an ear-splitting bellow, his left leg half hewn from his body. The forearms 
with their sharp talons out. One paw, perhaps more by luck than intention, caught 
in the mail on the soldier's shoulder and dragged him down. It did not need his 
shout of pain and terror to bring his comrades' steel out, nor were the other Skritek 
long in joining the fight. 
Labornoki soldiers and Skritek fought and died as the battle whirled around the 
bonfire. One of the torchmen drove off a monster within claw's range of Hamil 
himself by thrusting the fiery end of the torch he held into the creature's half-open 
jaws. The melee was fierce while it lasted, but that was not long, for the mob of 
Skritek faded away into the swamp night, leaving three of their own number dead, 
two still living. Four soldiers lay unmoving, and a number of others nursed bloody 
gashes and the like. 

Osorkon had reached out at the beginning of the embroilment, caught Kadiya, and 
dragged her back toward Hamil's tent, which half collapsed as a guy rope gave 
way. He himself made no attempt to join in the fight but stood watching. When it 
was over he studied Hamil with a brooding look. However, he waited to speak 
until the General, wiping blood from his sword with a handful of leaves, came 
close enough so that perhaps only Kadiya was also able to hear. 
"Our allies must truly have second thoughts on the matter of service," Osorkon 
observed dryly. "You had that two-tongued pack-vart" — he nodded at Pellan, 
who had crouched into a ball as close to whatever shelter the tent might 
offer—"play guide to the last point on the river he knew three or four days back. 
Since then, we have been guided by the monsters." Now he nodded toward the 
general area where the Uisgu women lay roped closely together. "All around us 
the swamp boils, nor have we had any word from our advance scouting party for 
two days. I say, let us turn back now that we have achieved our goal and you have 
the girl and that which she carries." 
Hamil scowled. "There may be more treasure to be found." 
"And what if the Oddlings rise? We have taken Uisgu prisoners and our handling 
of them has been enough to turn all of their blood against us. And now we have 
antagonized the Skritek. If we must depend for guides on those who have good 
reason to hate us, we are fools." 
"Oddlings — slimy devils! Have any showed themselves willing to take up arms? 
No! They are puny cowards, spiritless as barnyard togars. The Uisgu rise — ? 
Impossible! They can't and won't fight. Is that not so, worm?" Hamil prodded 
Pellan with his boot toe. "Did you not tell us from the beginning that these swampsulkers 
are cravens?" 
Pellan raised his head, and also his skinny arm as if trying to ward off a blow. "It 
was always true before, Lord General. The Skritek they will fight, but only if the 
fiends of the Mazy Mire attack them. Between themselves there is no quarreling, 
nor have they ever raised weapon against any of us humans who entered the 
swamp. I have heard that an ancient oath was laid upon them forbidding warfare, 
and they are pledged to it." 

Hamil snorted. "This girl has managed to find her way about the Thorny Hell, and 
the Uisgu have helped her or she would not have been able to reach this point. 
With her and those"— he gestured to the other prisoners — "with us, the Uisgu 
will not impede us." 
The next morning they broke camp and marched upriver, following a faint trail. 
General Hamil did not speak again to Kadiya, although he kept her close by as he 
listened to reports brought in by flankers and scouts. Thus she first learned in truth 
that the Labornoki force did not travel alone. Something —or someone — skulked 
along with them, although the men were never able to get a good look at it. Were 
they being followed by swamp-dwellers who had at last arisen to avenge the 
murder of their people? Dared she hope for so much? 
Kadiya roused from her state of frozen lethargy to hear a badly bitten and mudstained 
soldier say: 
"Gam's. I'd swear by Zoto's Shield to that! Just his head agrinnin' from a pole 
planted by a fern patch. No sign of them monsters either. Just some blurry little 
footprints showing in the mud —an' this." 
He held out what Kadiya recognized as a dart — longer than any she had seen the 
Nyssomu use. Still, the shaft was painted with two tiny bands, one blue and the 
other yellow, and those she had seen before. Jagun! Or at least his hunt sign. 
"Gam," Hamil repeated. His mud-caked fingernails grated across the stubble of 
beard on his jaw. "I saw him take on the Westlinger pirates — two of them with 
one blow. Well, I am sure he did not die cheaply. Was he done in by the Skritek?" 
"That dart is not Skritek." Osorkon had taken the thing from the scout. "They don't 
do work as fine as this." 
"What has our lady Princess here to say?" Hamil inquired of Kadiya. Her bearers 
had rested her bound body on the trail. "Do you have some other friend waiting to 
take a hand in our affairs?" He poised his hand to slap her. 
She could answer him with part truth. "I… have not seen the like… of that 

before." 
Osorkon did not give the General any time to force another answer out of her. 
"She may serve as bait, if they do have other weapons to use. Don't waste time 
mauling her here. Let us get on to some solid land if a fight threatens. We can't put 
up any show of force floundering around in this demon-cursed mud." 
Suddenly, a resounding roar came from ahead. Hamil's sword was in his hand 
instantly and the soldiers behind bunched about their commander. 
"Skritek!" the scout yelled. "And from the sound of 'em, they've got some poor 
devil on the run!" 
"Move along!" Hamil ordered. "Close up! There's higher ground ahead and we 
need firm footing." 
Once more the cry of the Skritek sounded. Kadiya's ears buzzed and she was near 
unconscious from the jouncing as her bearers ran along. Her arms had lost all 
feeling from the bindings. Even if she were free and had talisman in hand, she was 
not sure she would be able to use it. However, behind the pain, the helplessness — 
and yes, the fear, she still held grimly to the old core of anger. There must be 
some way she could strike back! If only the magic paralysis would wear off… 
They raced ahead, depending on flankers for warning. The land now became dry 
and fairly open except for some low-growing vegetation, but at the same time it 
had the dire look of that stretch of country Kadiya had crossed with Jagun earlier. 
Here and there grew networks of fat greyish ground-vines, with leaves which 
looked hardly more than shriveled buds and which were surrounded by clouds of 
insects. Crushed underfoot, the vines gave off a putrid smell. 
And then they came upon a building. 
It was not of stone — but rather of that same sleek material which had formed the 
bowl-like camping place she had shared with Jagun and the place where she had 
acquired her talisman. One wall was pierced by a doorway, and recessed on either 

side was a tall statue in the form of those same sentries which guarded the 
Forbidden Way. Each sindona held a sword. Kadiya blinked smarting eyes. The 
swords — they were pointless like the one she now bore on her back. The 
weapons were outstretched and crossed to forbid entrance. 
Hamil halted to eye what lay before them. There was an eager note in his voice. 
"By Zoto—the very thing I hoped to find! A stronghold of the Vanished Ones, and 
probably full of treasure! Captain Loskar, you go and give a tickle to those." He 
nodded to the statues. "The rest of you men get ready with your arrows!" 
It proved the measure of Hamil's power over his troops, in spite of all the recent 
disasters, that he was promptly obeyed. A young officer raised his own sword so 
that it touched that point where the pointless blades of the sentinels crossed. The 
metal rebounded with a harsh clang. Loskar's weapon flew out of his hand and he 
gave an agonized howl and caught at his sword arm, falling to his knees. 
"Arrows —inside!" Hamil snapped. 
The whistling of the Labornoki war-bolts, meant to afright as well as kill, was 
loud. Into the opening behind the two sentinels they sped. It was dark in there, 
with no hint of what lay beyond. Neither was there any answer to the attack Hamil 
had ordered. He called to the men who carried Kadiya: "Wunit! Vor! Push her 
beneath the statues' swords!" 
The soldiers slung her, carrying poles and all, through the doorway. When the 
sentinels remained motionless, Wunit and a dozen men ducked down and 
followed after. 
"It's safe, my General!" Wunit called. "We need torches!" 
Brands were quickly kindled and passed through. The interior of the building was 
featureless except for a single inner door at the end of a narrow hallway. Above it 
was carved a great trillium. 
"Wait — I'm coming myself," Hamil said. Grabbing a torch, he stooped and 
entered. 

Immediately, all the torches of the Labornoki went out. There were masculine 
screams, sounds of floundering bodies, and then utter silence. 
Kadiya lay face down, unable to help herself. No daylight penetrated this place. 
The dark of the open outer door might have been a curtain, although she had felt 
none such as she fell through. She drew a gasping breath. Oddly enough that 
paralysis which had gripped her so strongly now seemed to be receding. She 
thrashed about like a landed fish, trying to rise. The blackness around her was 
thick and complete, but she was aware of a lessening of that fear which had 
walked with her since she had been taken captive. 
The girl wriggled violently. Suddenly her arms were free at her sides, and the 
talisman lay loose under her body. She tore the remaining rope from her legs. The 
surface under her felt clear of any dust or drift from the outer world. Instead it was 
slippery and now slanted downward at an ever-increasing angle. She began to 
slide, as she used her numbed arms to lever herself upright. Faster and faster she 
fell, and then she crashed, still holding the talisman, into an unseen barrier, only to 
continue her slide in a new direction and crash again. Half-conscious, she clung to 
the magical sword… until she struck one last barrier, flew through the air, and 
landed senseless on a level surface. 
The toe of a boot caught her in the side and woke her. 
Kadiya blinked and blinked again. Darkness no longer locked her in. She was in a 
large room, lit dimly by no discernible source of illumination. 
"She's a tough one, General." 
Three men stood in a close triangle about her. One was Hamil, the other two 
Wunit and Vor. The other troops stood sullenly behind them. Kadiya saw that the 
Labornoki were bruised and trying not to show fear. 
She lifted her head. Though her arms were strong again, her hand was not quite 
able to reach the hilt of the talisman which lay partly beneath her. 
"Do you think she knows the way out of here, sir?" Vor asked. 

"That may well be," Hamil replied. At any rate we can use her to test for more 
damned man-traps as we look the place over. Get her moving." 
No one touched her. She took hold of the talisman and climbed slowly to her feet, 
her head aching from the battering it had received. Dully, she wondered why they 
had not tried to take the sword from her, and then she remembered that they had 
good reason to fear touching that eerie weapon. 
The grey light shone upon a kind of indoor courtyard. Before them was a fountain 
flowing with water. On the other side of the fountain was a staircase leading up. 
She walked over to it, but darkness hung above and Kadiya could not see where 
the stairs led. 
On each step was a footprint glowing red. 
Hamil showed no hesitation. "Onward!" he commanded. He set foot squarely on 
the first print, then began to tremble violently like one afflicted with marsh fever. 
White-faced, he staggered back, drew his sword, and brandished it at Kadiya. 
"Magic!" he croaked. "Let her lead the way." He pulled Kadiya before him so it 
was her foot that touched the print on the next stair. 
By the trillium, she was going to scream! There shot through her a sensation like a 
blast of flame. Then the talisman she held echoed the feeling of burning heat, but 
she could not throw it from her. She heard an astounded cry from Hamil. She had 
reached the fifth step, beyond his reach, and the glowing footprint awaiting her 
there abruptly vanished. What she placed foot upon was a circle of silver centered 
by a Black Trillium. Hamil did not expect the sudden move that followed. She 
was free, completely recovered from her injuries and the enchantment, and each 
step before her was marked with the same enheartening symbol. As her foot fell 
quickly upon each in turn new strength built within her. 
Anger boiled up. Let her but turn and she could kill them all! No, that was the 
response of a fool. Armed men watched her, some armed with bows and arrows. 
She had only this talisman of which she was still unsure. 

A moment later she had reached a long room at the head of the stairs. Each wall 
here was crossed and recrossed by a netting of red light. The chamber was 
centered by a single block of the strange pale building material, and there only did 
another color show. For, rising as if from a bed of well tended earth, stood a 
carven image of a tall plant made of silvery metal. A trillium plant. The stalk 
ended in a single large tightly closed bud. 
Hamil had followed warily, his men behind him. Now he stamped forward to look 
up at the plant, one hand on sword hilt. He might be in the heart of enemy territory 
with his army whittled away, yet there was nothing in his stance to suggest that he 
did not fully believe in himself and his own power. He glared at Kadiya, who 
stood facing him resolutely with the talisman gripped in one hand. "We will go no 
farther," she said calmly. 
The General glanced back over his shoulder. He did not speak, but Wunit and Vor 
moved in quickly on either side of him, swords drawn. 
"I have heard," Hamil's voice was low and charged with hatred, "that blood is 
power. This is certainly a place of power." He gave an order: "Drive her over to 
that altar!" 
They harried her with their blades, forcing her back against the stone from which 
the Flower sprang. 
"I," Hamil's voice rang loud now, "am a man of blood. I have learned to pay with 
blood for what I want. When you die, Princess, you will no longer be bonded to 
that magical talisman. Orogastus no longer has power here. I do! And I intend to 
hew off that hand of yours that holds the talisman, and when your life's blood is 
drained, take it for my own." 
His sword swung up. Over her loomed the giant Flower. To Kadiya's sight it 
seemed to quiver and burst into bloom. Was it a flower or something else — such 
as the sentinel? She could not be sure, for around it a dazzling green glow 
radiated. 
The truncated sword length of her talisman blazed a vivid green also, sharing the 
potency of the Flower. 

From the pulsing of the light about her she was sure some change had come in on 
the altar. For Wunit and Vor and the soldiers fled back down the stairs, their faces 
fear-stricken and ghastly. 
Hamil was dusky with rage. He charged at her. By no knowledge she had ever 
possessed before, her talisman answered, blocking the General's own blade. It 
seemed to her that time moved oddly —first as fast as a whirlwind, and then as if 
leaden weights hobbled both of them. Each time he thrust, she parried. He was 
thrice her bulk, but he could not beat her down, nor thrust past the invincible 
guard of her talisman. 
He howled, throwing back his head and giving voice like an animal. Then, to her 
complete astonishment, he turned to run heavily down the stairs. 
Kadiya steadied herself at the altar. Above her, a huge Black Trillium bloomed on 
a silver stalk. She dared now to look up. She raised the talisman and the three eyes 
on the pommel opened, facing three greater ones at the center of the altar flower. 
Now it was as if a window in the strange room had been flung open to the full 
day's sun. The eyes blazed. They seemed to reach deep into her soul. 
She herself was no longer of any importance. There was no more Kadiya of 
Ruwenda… only the Lady of the Eyes. 
And then all the glory vanished. What had been a pillar of light on the altar flared 
and was gone. There was no Black Trillium. The room was empty except for her, 
and her now-dulled talisman. 
Kadiya turned to walk to the stairway. The wall colors were fading, all was a 
dusty grey. She went down the steps and found an open door, and heard the shouts 
of men and of others, and the ringing of weaponry outside. As one totally renewed 
in spirit and body she leapt forward into what was a full battle. 
Labornoki were falling with poisoned darts stuck into any exposed part, of their 
bodies. Now from the brush erupted hundreds of Uisgu, nimbly dodging arrows 
with curious half-hopping, half-dancing steps. There were Skritek, too, laying 

about at the Oddlings. Hamil, his tattered cloak of office shorn from his shoulders, 
was engaged with three diminutive Uisgu, wielding spears. The General aimed a 
sweeping sword-cut to cut down Oddlings, but Kadiya sprang forward, barely 
clearing another body, to face him. 
Always afterward she would swear that some spirit had possessed her. She nearly 
dropped the talisman, but with both hands she grasped the dull, truncated blade 
and swung the hilt up just as Hamil was about to strike her down. 
"To what you have made yourself," she found breath to shout, "return, man of 
blood!" 
Hamil twisted. He dropped his sword to raise both hands to his throat. His eyes 
were aflame, flame lapped from between his lips, ran down his body. From him 
came such a cry of torment as made Kadiya shudder. The Three-Lobed Burning 
Eye looked upon him with all its power, and he fell heavily to the ground. Like the 
Voice before him, what remained of Hamil was only ashes. 
From the talisman pommel there now licked another great tongue of flame, which 
split into streams and menaced the Skritek. They broke away to follow the fleeing 
Labornoki soldiers. The flame vanished. 
"Lady of the Eyes…" 
Kadiya looked toward the mass of jubilant Oddling warriors. "Jagun!" That name 
seemed to come from some other far off memory, part of another time. "You're 
safe!" 
But another voice also spoke now, one that silenced even the moans of the 
wounded. 
"Daughter!" 
Kadiya turned back to the sindona at the door. Above their noble heads was a 
circling of silver, and within it a familiar face, smiling. 

"White Lady! Have — have I done what I should?" 
"Not yet." 
Kadiya drew a breath which was close to a sob. "What, then? Must I carry this" — 
she held out the talisman — "to the finish? " 
"That is so," the calm voice replied. 
"I am what I have been fashioned for…" In part that was a plea. 
"That, too, is so." 
She still had so much to learn! 
"What lies ahead?" 
There came no answer. The vision faded, and Kadiya stood with tears running 
down her scratched and wounded face. She had been allowed a glimpse of 
something beyond her understanding, that she must even now hunger for; but now 
all she could do was carry on. She turned then to face the battlefield. The Uisgu 
stood there with Jagun smiling among them. They raised their small hands in 
salute. They had forsaken the old ways; they had gathered clan and tribe to a 
single purpose. It must be her will and cause to unite them. 
Chapter Thirty-Six 
After he had been introduced to the rimoriks and acquainted with their abilities, 
Prince Antar decided that the party would travel fastest by taking only two 
wooden punts, Anigel's translucent Wyvilo canoe, and a minimum of supplies. 
Before anyone was allowed to sleep, a new set of harnesses and traces for the 
rimoriks was braided from cut-up leather military cloaks, and holes were bored in 
the vessels to link them together. After only five hours' sleep the party was off. 
Since the rimoriks knew exactly where they were going, there was no need for 
reins. They pulled the three boats hitched in line while still in the narrow stream, 

and reached the Great Mutar in only three hours. Once in the big river, the animals 
were able to pull more strongly abreast while the knights also rowed. Princess 
Anigel's lightweight canoe trailed the wooden punts in which the men hauled 
away; and with her rode Prince Antar, the badly wounded Sir Penapat, and the 
Blue Voice, who had proved to be a hopelessly inefficient paddler — perhaps 
bungling his strokes on purpose. Having the sorcerer's acolyte in their boat at least 
gave Anigel and Antar the opportunity to keep an eye on him. He behaved in an 
exemplary fashion, sponging Sir Penapat's feverish brow in the boat's stern while 
the Prince and Princess conversed in low tones for hour after hour in the bows. 
The rimoriks hauled the humans along so swiftly that they found themselves 
approaching the village of Let just as night fell on that same day, only barely 
ahead of a second great rainstorm. 
But not ahead of the Glismak. 
"Lords of the Air — no!" cried Anigel, as she caught sight of towering clouds of 
smoke rising against a somber sunset. The boats were still moving along at such a 
rate that she dared not stand. 
"Use your farsight to scan the scene, Voice!" the Prince commanded. "Tell us 
what has happened." 
Anigel had gone very pale and when she spoke it was nearly in a whisper. "Wait 
—let me try." 
The Blue Voice gawked at her in astonishment as she closed her eyes and sat still 
as a stone. But her lovely face acquired nothing of the repellent empty-eyed look 
that accompanied the trance of Orogastus's symbionts. After a few minutes, she 
said: 
"The Glismak attacked the village from the landward side about an hour ago. I 
cannot tell if it is the same horde that fell upon your men. There seem to be at 
least three times as many Oddlings as we saw up the Kovuko… They have set 
many buildings on fire… I see Speaker Sasstu-Cha and I will try to bespeak 
him…" 

The Prince and the Blue Voice waited. Sir Penapat said eagerly: "If it is to be a 
battle, you may count on me to do my part! Even one-eyed, one-legged, and onearmed 
I can outfight any of the rest of the lads! You know me, my Prince." 
"Indeed I do, Peni." His countenance was sorrowful. "But I fear there is little any 
of us will be able to do if the savages have already overrun Let." 
Princess Anigel's eyes opened. "The Speaker thanks us for our kindly intentions," 
she said dully, "but the fighting is now hand-to-hand, and nearly a third of the 
homes are on fire. He is about to capitulate, as is their usual custom when 
overwhelmed, and pay a large indemnity of goods to the invaders, who will then 
withdraw for some weeks." 
"But, Princess," the Blue Voice protested with a fine air of reproach. "You have it 
in your power to save them. If only you would." 
"Silence, you misbegotten rascal!" hissed the Prince. "How dare you address the 
Lady in that presumptuous way?" 
Anigel stared at the Blue Voice, eyes wide, and her lip caught between her small 
white teeth, regarding him as though he were a venomous swamp-worm that had 
just slithered into the boat. But an instant later she said: 
"He is right. I could save the poor Wyvilo, if I but had the courage to call down 
killing force through my talisman. If I could conjure up cold-bloodedly the same 
hate and revulsion and desire for obliteration that I inadvertently focused upon the 
Glismak leader at the scene of the massacre." 
"Then do it," the Blue Voice urged, "and save your friends!" 
"I —I dare not." She began to weep. 
The Blue Voice shrugged and smiled. "They are only Oddlings." 
"They are rational creatures who do not know any better!" she cried. "The 
Glismak are like wicked children and must be punished and taught to do better 

—but how can the dead learn lessons?" 
"While you cavil and shed foolish tears, your friends die." 
"I can't help it!" 
"Oh, but you can." 
She screamed at the top of her lungs: "I can't! I don't know how and my heart is 
sore pained, and I'm so horribly afraid and I just can't — " 
She bit off her words as though she had spoken the most appalling blasphemy, and 
looked so frightened and despairing that Antar was near to smiting the wheedling 
Blue Voice with his large fist. But before the Prince could act her face changed 
yet again, like a flipped page in a picture book, and she calmed and said: 
"Prince Antar, if I go, will you go with me?" 
"To Let? Now?" But seeing that she was deadly serious he drew himself together 
and said: "Sweet Lady, I will accompany you to the trapdoors of hell if you but 
ask it." 
Anigel nodded. In a strange, soft voice she said: "My friends, stop." 
The train of three boats slowed, came to a halt, and began to wallow in the choppy 
water, for there was a gale of wind following them and the sky behind was piled 
with black and purple thunderheads. They could hear faint rumblings now. Half a 
league ahead and on their right Let sent up a forest of sooty columns that spread 
out when they reached a certain height to form a black roof above the village. 
"Sir Owanon!" Anigel called out to the Prince's marshal, who rode in the leading 
punt. "Cut the traces connecting your boat to the rimoriks!" 
As he hastened to obey, she herself severed the line joining her boat to the punt 
ahead. My friends, swim back to my boat so that I may rehitch you. 

We are coming. 
Prince Antar and the others still had not grasped what she was about to do, but as 
she continued to give commands her intent became clear. "You men! Paddle back 
to us and take Sir Penapat and the Blue Voice aboard. You in the stern of Sir 
Owanon's boat —cut yourself free of the second punt. Bring me both connecting 
lines." 
They leapt to follow her orders, while she herself took the severed traces from the 
mouths of her rimoriks, and with her small knife poked holes in the tough upper 
hull on either side of the canoe's stem, passed the leathers through, and tied a large 
knot in them. The other two lines she fastened to each animal, improvising reins. 
The rimoriks said: Share miton, and we are ready. 
From her belt-wallet she took the scarlet gourd, and swallowed deeply. The 
animals licked her fingers as the Prince looked on in amazement. 
Sir Penapat had been transferred to the other boat, but the Blue Voice still 
remained firmly ensconced in his place in the stern of Anigel's Wyvilo canoe. 
Now he fended off the two wooden punts with the knights in them, so that the 
three craft drifted quickly apart in the wind. 
"I will remain with you also, Princess!" the Voice shouted. "I can be of help!" 
Prince Antar cried, "Get out of the boat, you ill-omened knave!" He turned about 
and began to lurch sternward toward the acolyte, moving so violently that the 
lightweight craft rocked nearly to the gunwales. 
But it was already too late. Princess Anigel signaled the rimoriks and they surged 
forward. "You men make for the opposite shore!" she called to Sir Owanon. "You 
must not be on the river when the storm strikes. If we do not come tomorrow, then 
save yourselves as you can. Farewell!" 
The pale canoe rocketed forward with Anigel driving, and soon the two punts 
were lost to sight. 

Antar had been thrown into the bottom of the boat by their abrupt start. For a 
while he simply clung to a thwart, fearful that they would flip over at any 
moment, and he in his armor would sink like a stone. But they only zipped and 
splashed through the chop like a low-launched arrow, traveling faster than he 
would have thought possible. 
The Blue Voice was with them to stay, crouched in as small an area as possible, 
with his hood pulled down over his face. Antar could hardly cast him overboard. 
Muttering to himself, the Prince settled down somewhat more comfortably, but he 
was in a black mood. The Princess paid no attention whatsoever to either man. 
Now it came to pass that Prince Antar became chagrined at the way that the lovely 
Anigel had ordered him and everyone else about — not that he faltered for an 
instant in his devotion to the Princess; he was as determined as ever to die for her 
sake. But she who had seemed so pathetic in the Citadel dungeon, so beautiful and 
doomed going over the cataract, so like a goddess as she smote the Glismak, so 
young and vulnerable as she battled her inner devils a few minutes earlier, was 
now the very image of an avenging warrior-queen as she urged the rimoriks 
onward. And something deep within Antar looked askance at this change and even 
feared it. 
Her eyes were tightly shut, and the Prince doubted not that she studied visions of 
the carnage going on in Let, and bespoke the Wyvilo that she was speeding to help 
them. 
And yet how lovely she was! How graceful, even in her mannish garb, with her 
hair flying and the magical coronet firm set on her brow. She stood against the 
darkening sky, where the fires burning in the village now painted the cloud-bellies 
with flickering crimson, and Prince Antar's blood quickened within him and he 
desired nothing more than to die for love of her. 
What was to become of Princess Anigel — and of him? He had rebelled against 
his father, denounced Labornok, and cast his lot with his beloved, who was vowed 
to liberate her country. But was such a thing possible, even with the aid of the 
magical talisman? Orogastus could command the lightning, too, and the Blue 
Voice had assured the Prince that the sorcerer now had in his possession the 

talisman of one royal sister, and would soon have the other as well. 
Anigel would want to return to the Citadel. But surely such a course would be 
futile. Over half of the Labornoki invasion force of ten thousand men was still 
encamped there, and the rest of the army, which had accompanied General Hamil 
on his pursuit of Princess Kadiya, would soon be returning from the swamp. What 
chance had Anigel, even with her new powers, against the full might of Labornok 
and the Dark Powers of Orogastus? 
King Voltrik was now recovered, and more determined than ever that the three 
Princesses should die. No doubt he would count the defection of the son he 
despised as a small thing. Certainly the damned wizard would be delighted! 
Orogastus might even prevail upon the deranged monarch to take him as his heir. 
Perhaps that had been the villain's scheme all along! 
With farseeing Orogastus in power and Labornok setting out to conquer the rest of 
the Peninsula, would he and Anigel be safe anywhere? Or would they two and the 
handful of faithful companions be forced to flee to some far-distant land where — 
A movement. 
Antar snapped out of his brown study and turned about, only to see that the Blue 
Voice had left his place and was creeping forward toward him. 
"What do you want?" the Prince demanded truculently. The gale tore his words 
from his lips. 
"Only to speak for a moment, my Prince. I have just now conferred telepathically 
with my Almighty Master, and he has asked me to pass on to you a message of the 
greatest urgency." 
"I care naught for your foul conjurer's latest falsehoods. Get you back where you 
were… Get back, I say!" 
But the Blue Voice came on steadily, his skeletal face split with a smile of such 
blatant insincerity that the Prince was first infuriated and then alarmed. But before 

he could react and draw his sword, the minion was upon him, springing like a 
lothok upon its prey in careless disregard for the Prince's suit of azure armor. 
In one hand he bore a long, slender poniard, and he thrust it upward at the gorget 
of sliding plates that guarded Antar's neck. The sharp steel slid within, and had the 
Prince not swayed to one side he would have had his throat cut. But as it happened 
the misericord sliced only into the skin at the side of the neck before the Prince's 
metal gauntlet grasped the attacker's hand, and the blade was withdrawn. The two 
men began to thrash wildly in the bottom of the boat. 
Princess Anigel pulled up the rimoriks at once. She watched Antar and the Blue 
Voice struggling, and she clung to the gunwales of the rolling and pitching craft 
unable to move for fear of causing them to founder. Nor could she call lightning 
down upon the Voice without sinking them all. She was at a loss and could only 
invoke the White Lady. But no help seemed forthcoming. 
The Blue Voice was incredibly strong, partaking in some way of his demonic 
master's Dark Powers. He had contrived to get on top of the now supine armored 
man, one knee on either side of Antar's body, and clutched his long dagger in both 
bony hands, bringing the point closer and closer to the Prince's face in its open 
helmet. Antar gripped the wrists of the enchanter's acolyte, but even his great 
strength was not sufficient to halt the poniard's steady descent toward his eyes. 
Anigel tore the coronet from her head and screamed: "Don't! Oh, don't kill him! I 
will give you the talisman!" 
The Blue Voice lifted his shaven head. A long scratch extended from one ear to 
the middle of his brow and blood flow made of his gaunt face a gory mask. His 
burning eyes met those of the Princess and he spoke through gritted teeth, the 
dagger not a finger's breadth above Antar's right eye. 
"Put the coronet upon my head!" The Voice was that of the sorcerer Orogastus. 
"No!" screamed Prince Antar. "He will then kill us both!" 
But Anigel was leaning forward, the coronet in her hands, and the boat wallowed 
from side to side, and the first squall of pebble-hard raindrops pelted the three of 

them and momentarily flattened the surging waters. 
And on either side of the boat rose the two rimoriks. 
Their sleek bodies came up almost slowly, and their great jaws were wide open, so 
huge they could encompass a man's head. Their long barbed tongues uncoiled like 
whips. With the delicacy that they had exhibited taking miton from the soft fingers 
of the Princess, these tongues now curled about the lower arms of the Blue Voice. 
The man shrieked. He was held fast. Anigel fell back, still holding the coronet. 
Antar released his grip upon the Voice's wrists at the same time that the animals 
began to swim toward the stern, their great bodies still half out of the water. 
The sorcerer's acolyte, still screeching his lungs out, was dragged over the Prince, 
then hoist further into the air to clear the length of the boat. He disappeared into 
the black water off the stern with a great splash, and the rimoriks sounded after 
him. The rain held temporarily in abeyance. 
Moments later the two great grinning heads popped up at the bow, near to 
Princess Anigel. A small shred of blue cloth hung from one animal's tooth. 
Oh, friends!… 
Take up the reins. A great storm is nearly upon us. It will sink your boat if we do 
not take you quickly to land. 
"Are you hurt?" the Princess asked Antar in great anxiety. "I see blood upon your 
breastplate." 
"It is only a scratch. Once again you have saved my life, dearest Lady, and —" 
"To Let, then!" Anigel cried, shaking the reins. And they were off in a cloud of 
spume, with the discomfited Prince again hanging on for his very life. 
Chapter Thirty-Seven 

When the Blue Voice perished, Orogastus uttered a mighty groan, and came out of 
his trance bathed in sweat, and sank back into the great chair in his study from 
which he had surveyed the tactic's failure. 
"It is my fault! Mine only the blame! And now there are two talismans out of my 
reach." 
And if his researches were correct about the Feast of the Three Moons, then only 
three days and four nights remained in which he might salvage his great scheme… 
Because he had been bespoken by his Blue Voice, Orogastus was able to watch 
with his mind's eye the struggle between the Voice and Prince Antar. The boat 
appeared to be driven by a person invisible, however, since the Princess was still 
shielded from the sorcerer's preternatural Sight by the amulet now inset within her 
talisman coronet. 
The Blue Voice had wanted to postpone his attack upon the Prince until they 
reached dry land; but it had seemed to the sorcerer that a better chance of success 
obtained if Antar were menaced out in the stormy water, with no friendly Wyvilo 
or loyal knights about to give warning or come to the Prince's assistance. 
Orogastus did not tell his assistant that if the worst happened and the canoe was 
upset in the river, Antar would have perished together with the Blue Voice, being 
heavily weighted by his armor—while the rimoriks would surely have rescued 
Anigel and her talisman. 
But now Orogastus's agent was dead and Prince Antar still lived, besotted with the 
Princess and quite capable of drawing uncertain numbers of Labornoki to his new 
cause. Alive, he remained a stumbling block of no mean proportion to the 
sorcerer's own ambitions. 
Thinking furiously, Orogastus rose from his chair and prowled about his study. 
The snow had stopped and the damned Triple Moons turned the fastness of Mount 
Brom into a scene of breathtaking silvery beauty. 
Princess Haramis had retired. Their conversation this day had been most 
satisfactory. She now seemed to accept his version of the Labornoki invasion, 
which thrust responsibility for the atrocities upon King Voltrik and General 

Hamil, with himself as only a reluctant confederate. Almost everything he had 
managed to explain away or justify. Fortunately, Haramis had not thought to scry 
Princess Kadiya during that sister's confrontation with the late General Hamil. 
Orogastus judged that any scrying of either sister that Haramis might now attempt 
would be unlikely to harm his cause. 
Because whether she admitted it or not, Princess Haramis was in love with him. 
This emotion the sorcerer was most disinclined to scrutinize. Of course it was 
impossible that he himself would fall in love with her!… And yet some snickering 
small demon deep within his soul warned him to be on guard. He had not lied to 
Haramis when he told her he had been celibate. He would have to take great care. 
His mind was invulnerable to her, but his body certainly was not; when they two 
had set each other afire, the brief joy had exceeded anything he had ever known 
before. 
And it had frightened him to the core of his being. 
Sexual love was traditionally forbidden to the wielders of magic — and for good 
reason. It distracted one from great goals, blinded objectivity, sapped the will, and 
drained away energies that must be hoarded and concentrated if one would 
become truly powerful… 
But he needed her! And not only for the talisman she owned. She was the magical 
partner he had searched for through long years, infinitely superior to the toadying 
Voices. She held the key to the Sceptre of Power that even the Vanished Ones had 
feared. 
And so he would use Haramis, share with her, even take pleasure in her. But he 
must ever be on guard not to love her. 
Tomorrow he would dazzle the Princess with more ancient devices, then wring 
her compassion by telling her more of his life-story. If she still did not succumb, 
as was possible in such a strong-minded young woman, then would come the 
delicate loosening of the snare — so that it could be tightened again once and for 
all, at the crowning moment… 

Orogastus left off his pacing and his face relaxed into a smile. He returned again 
to his chair and, sitting, passed into a star-eyed trance and bespoke his single 
remaining acolyte at Ruwenda Citadel. 
"My Green Voice!" 
"I hear, Almighty Master." 
"Have you found aught new among the books in the Citadel library?" 
"A number of references that may be of import, Master. An ancient history of 
Ruwenda speaks of a belief among the early human settlers that they lived in the 
'Age of the Trillium.' And this first age's ending and the beginning of the new 
would be signaled by a notable disaster, and events would culminate on a Feast of 
the Three Moons when the Sky Trillium would manifest itself… One presumes 
some kind of unusual astronomical event is being described." 
"No doubt. That is most interesting, and confirms one of my own theories. Go 
on." 
"In a book purporting to describe the magical practices of the Uisgu was given a 
rough translation of a certain chant. I will quote it: 
One, two, three: three in one. 
One the Crown of the Misbegotten, wisdom-gift, thought-magnifier. 
Two the Sword of the Eyes, dealing justice and mercy. 
Three the Wand of the Wings, key and unifier. 
Three, two, one: one in three. 
Come, Trillium. Come, Almighty. 

Apparently, the Uisgu sing the chant at their own Triple Moon Festival each year 
without knowing its exact significance." 
"I can guess its significance," Orogastus said tersely. "Again, you have found 
material that helps to confirm my own researches. Well done! And is there more?" 
"Master, one last finding. Of — of inauspicious portent." 
"Say on." 
"It concerns the so-called Threefold Sceptre of Power, which we have agreed is 
the combination of the talismans. In a mouldering chest we chanced some days 
ago to find a scroll that was near illegible. Only today was the vellum carefully 
steamed open. I realized at once that the document was written in Tuzameni, the 
language of your own land." 
"That is most unusual. Hardly any Folk of the Peninsula even know of my 
country's existence. Go on." 
"Most of the scroll is indecipherable. But a portion mentioning a so-called 'Great 
Sceptre' can be read. It says: The Great Sceptre that was broken and hidden by the 
Ones Gone Away will reappear and shake the roots of the world, making the old 
new and causing a great star to fall.' " 
"I see." Orogastus did not speak for some moments. Then he said, almost lightly, 
"There are millions of stars in the sky, my Voice." 
"Yes, Almighty Master." 
"How has King Voltrik reacted to news of Prince Antar's perfidy?" 
"He fell into a rage when he heard that his son had pledged his sword and heart to 
Princess Anigel. But in spite of your wishes, he would not agree to disown the 
Prince immediately. Antar is popular among the common soldiers because of his 
good nature and physical prowess, and he has numerous noble adherents among 
the relatives of his late mother. His Majesty wants to postpone the disinheritance 

and deposition of the Prince until the return to the Citadel of General Hamil's 
force, which will increase the number of men loyal to the throne." 
"Our King is acting wisely in so doing." And Orogastus added to himself, More 
wise than I, and I am spared making another great blunder! Dark Powers, what 
has gotten into me, that I should miscalculate so grossly? But the Powers declined 
to enlighten him; and he said to the Voice: "I fear you will now have to give the 
King more bad news. Hamil is dead. His army is mostly intact, however, and now 
under the command of Lord Osorkon. You need give Voltrik no details — say that 
the situation is as yet unclear — but the mission of capturing Princess Kadiya and 
her talisman has unfortunately failed, even as that mounted against Princess 
Anigel." 
"Master-!" 
"And both my Red Voice and my Blue Voice are dead." 
"May one ask how my brethren and the Lord General perished?" 
"You may tell King Voltrik that both the Red Voice and General Hamil died 
during a bungled attempt at forcing Kadiya to surrender her talisman. The device 
was magically bonded to her, and it slew the pair when they tried to take hold of 
it. You must tell the King that Princess Kadiya escaped, but say that she fled into 
the deep swamp and will be no longer a threat to Labornok." 
"And shall I also tell His Majesty the fate of the Blue Voice?" 
"Say nothing. For your own information, the Blue Voice attempted to overcome 
Prince Antar while the two were on a boat. The Voice failed and was drowned." 
"Alas! Blue was the bravest of us, and Red the shrewdest manipulator—" 
"But you are the most intelligent, my Green Voice, and to you remains the most 
ticklish of tasks: keeping King Voltrik from doing anything irremediably foolish 
until I can return to the Citadel. Lord Osorkon is leading his force back at doubletime. 
With the river flowing faster from storms already taking place in the 

mountains, his boats should arrive within three days. You may tell the King that." 
"The monsoon winds have already brought the first rains to the Citadel region as 
well, Master. Soon the land-trails and waterways through this wretched kingdom 
will be nigh impassable. Because of a certain restlessness among Ruwendians in 
the outlying regions, King Voltrik has decided that his entire force will remain 
here during the rainy season. He and his staff have already worked out plans to 
quarter half of the army in various Ruwendian manors and villages, and the other 
half on Citadel Knoll." 
"That is wise." And another contingency I should have foreseen myself, and 
advised the King on! "I wish you to continue, my Voice, to deplore Prince Antar's 
treachery to the King at every opportunity. Urge His Majesty to disown the Prince 
as soon as the loyal officers arrive. I need not stress the point that if anything 
should happen to Voltrik, my own plans would.be in the deepest jeopardy." 
"I appreciate that, Master. I will do my best to counsel the King. But he grows 
increasingly uneasy with the approach of the Three Moons Feast. Certain 
Ruwendian servants in the Citadel have slyly made known to His Majesty the dire 
prophecies concerning this event. He would like to return to Labornok—" 
"He must not leave the Citadel! He would be caught on the Trade Route by the 
Rains!" 
"Master, I have told him this. But even so, he thinks this Citadel is a place of illomen, 
being so ancient and so pervaded with Ruwendian magic—" 
"Nonsense! Reassure him. He knows that my own Dark Powers, those that 
brought him victory, are superior! And I will be with him myself before the Triple 
Moons conjoin." 
"Master! But how? It is an eight-day journey from your tower to the Citadel even 
during fair weather." 
"Never mind how I shall do it. Only expect me before this Moon Feast, and tell 
King Voltrik that I am coming, and that all will yet be well." 

"Almighty Master, I will reassure him, and make light of the doleful happenings, 
and he will greet you and be eager to follow your counsel." 
"Excellent. Farewell, my Green Voice." 
"Master, farewell." 
When the vision of his acolyte faded, the sorcerer sat with his head in his hands 
for some time. Then he came to himself, a grim expression hardening his features. 
"Everything will be well. First I shall consult the ice-mirror to descry Princess 
Kadiya, and then I shall make sure of Haramis." 
On the next evening, upon returning to her chamber after having supped with 
Orogastus, Haramis found a gift awaiting her — a large flat package wrapped in 
black cloth and tied with a silver cord, together with a note from him: 
My Dearest One: 
Tomorrow I would show you my most precious possession, the ice-mirror with 
which I can scrutinize the farthest reaches of the world. I have showed it to no 
other human being. In order not to offend the Dark Powers who cause the mirror 
to operate, I ask you to accompany me attired in the vestments within this 
package, which I myself have made especially for you, daring to hope that you 
have come to share my own delight in these occult mysteries, as well as some 
small regard for the one who would lay them at your feet, in company with his 
own heart. 
If I presume, dearest Princess, and you would rather leave here early on the 
morrow, then forgive the boldness of this note and excuse the foolish one who has 
been alone so long, waiting for you, never knowing love until now. 
I am ever thine, with the most profound respect, 
OROGASTUS 

Haramis was uneasy at the letter's overly intimate tone. Does he think that I am 
bewitched by him, ready to hand him my heart on a platter? Am I a peasant girl, 
to become the slave of the first man who touches me? Or does he think me dazzled 
by all the ancient devices he has collected? 
Haramis considered the things he had so far shown her. 
Who knows what those machines might be capable of? They did not look at all like 
toys to me… and that one he particularly fancied, with the look of a crossbowstock 
about it, had a distinctly sinister aura. 
On the other hand, perhaps he is not quite the villain I believed him to be. Poor 
man — what a horrible childhood. 
Of course his support of King Voltrik's invasion is inexcusable. But I suppose he 
could not have directly opposed the monarch's madness without being driven 
away from Labornok. And he knew that his destiny lay not in his own distant 
homeland but here, in these very mountains, where the Cavern of Black Ice called 
out to him and surrendered to him its treasures. 
Had I been in his position, she wondered, what would I have done? Would I have 
been able to comport myself more cleverly and ethically? Would I have declined 
to become the Court Sorcerer of a corrupt ruler, if it meant ignoring the summons 
of my greater destiny? 
She opened the package and began to examine the vestments that were alleged to 
make one acceptable to the Dark Powers. Once she had seen them, she could not 
resist putting them on, just to see how she would look. 
There was an underrobe of some fur-lined black material, and matching boots. 
Over this went a robe of silvery mesh with panels of a gleaming black, very cold 
to the touch. There was also a black cloak, lined in silver, with an ornate clasp and 
the star motif on the back. Finally she took up a most awesome headpiece that she 
hesitated long minutes before donning. This was a silver mask that fitted closely 
to the front of her head and beneath her chin, leaving the lower face uncovered. 
Around its perimeter, beginning just above her shoulders, were sharp-pointed 
rays, very tall at the crown, that haloed her head with a great shining star, leaving 

her long black hair falling free behind. The mask was not metal, but some softer 
material resembling silvered leather. There were also matching gloves with long 
cuffs. 
Fully dressed at last in these garments, Haramis felt an urgent desire to tear the 
things off, flee from the room, and cry out for her lammergeier to carry her away. 
Her talisman, which hung at her breast as always, had become cold as ice and the 
amber without luster. 
What am I doing? she asked herself. This garb feels strange. The devices he has 
shown me thus far are not magic—I am sure of that—but there is something 
about this clothing… Do the Dark Powers he speaks of truly exist? He obviously 
believes in them, and, whatever they may be, something gives him abilities beyond 
those of ordinary men. He might very well be able to rule the world, in time, as is 
his ambition. 
Is this why I am so strangely attracted to him? He does possess power, whatever 
its source, but what kind of power? Is it anything I can learn and use? 
A spasm of dread shot through her. She lifted the Three-Winged Circle, fixed her 
eyes on the area within the Circle, and said: "White Lady! Answer me!" 
For a long time, nothing happened. Then she thought to take off the silvery 
gauntlets, whereupon the wand warmed in her bare hands and the trillium amber 
pulsed with a dim glow when she called. Slowly the pearly mist gathered within 
the Circle, and in it the ravaged face of the Archimage appeared, resting upon a 
pillow. She looked up, obviously in pain. Her eyes, dark slits with tears slowly 
trickling from them, regarded Haramis clad in the garments Orogastus had given 
her. 
"So soon?" The voice was faint as a zephyr rippling a field of flowers. "Has he 
won you over so easily?… But no. I misjudge you, dear child. I see that you have 
not chosen his way as yet." 
"Of course I haven't!" Haramis's anxiety over the White Lady's appearance faded 
into irritation. The old woman's tone had been that of an adult chiding a 
misbehaving child. Haramis had not called the Archimage because of guilt. She 

had done nothing wrong, nor was she ashamed! 
"I came here because I was invited," the Princess said, with cool courtesy, "and 
because I wondered whether anyone at all knew the truth about Orogastus. I came 
to see for myself what he was — and to search out his weaknesses, as you 
yourself bade me!" 
"It is true that such knowledge may prove useful," the Archimage said gently, "but 
is it wise to remain under his roof?" 
"I am in no danger here," Haramis broke in heedlessly. "My lammergeier is free to 
carry me off at any time. Orogastus cannot steal my talisman. He treats me with 
courtesy—" 
"More than courtesy." 
Haramis flushed behind the silvery mask. "Yes," she admitted. 
"I can see that you are intrigued, Haramis, fascinated both by the man and by his 
power. And you think you know a great secret about the devices of the Vanished 
Ones that Orogastus does not suspect —a secret that will make him vulnerable." 
"Yes," Haramis said. "That is, after all, why I came here, to search for knowledge. 
There is a great deal to be learned here. And the more I learn, the more questions 
arise about Ruwenda and its magic. But I am learning, and all will come right. I 
am certain of it." 
"Yes, all will come right… But you must come to me soon and hear my vision. It 
differs greatly from that of Orogastus, and to some people it would seem less 
glorious. But you must make up your own mind. Between my path and that of 
Orogastus and his ilk, there is a great gulf. You should know both ways before 
making your choice." 
"Yes," Haramis agreed. "I shall come to you soon." 
"Do not wait too long." 

The aged face faded. The Circle was empty. 
Haramis let the talisman fall on its chain. Then she went to the tall mirror in the 
bath chamber, and looked upon the unfamiliar figure reflected there. Black and 
silver. The eyes unreadable, the figure tall and imposing. And, yes, frightening. 
She turned away from the mirror and began to take off the dark vestments. But she 
knew she would put them on again tomorrow, and go with him to the Cavern of 
Black Ice. 
Chapter Thirty-Eight 
Having been warned through the speech without words of the boat's imminent 
arrival, Speaker Sasstu-Cha and a delegation of village elders met Princess Anigel 
and Prince Antar at the riverside landing, not too far distant from the scene of 
fighting. The Wyvilo led the two humans into the shelter of a nearby storehouse, 
since the rain was now coming down in torrents. 
"It will put out the house fires," the Speaker of Let remarked, "but the Glismak 
warriors will not be deterred. We have already received a deputation of them 
demanding the ransom. And we agreed to pay. This one fears, Princess Anigel, 
that you have come too late." 
She did not speak, only sat down wearily on a bale of goods, still wearing Immu's 
hat and her raincape which she had assumed when they landed. Since she was 
apparently irresolute, the Prince stepped forward. 
"You may remember me. I am Antar, Crown Prince of Labornok, whom you 
harried from your town a few days ago. I am now the servant of this great Lady, 
who twice saved my life, and so are those of my men who yet live. We have come 
here at great risk to our lives in order to help you. Before you surrender to your 
foes, you might let us explain what manner of assistance we are prepared to 
offer." 
"Say on," said Sasstu-Cha, in his deep, inhuman voice. "But you should know that 
the invading Glismak number over a thousand, and some one-third of our fighters 

have been captured, and some have already been eaten, and we can fight no more 
this night." 
"That should not be necessary," said the Prince. He took Anigel by the hand and 
gently bade her rise. Then he untied the raincape and removed it, and took off her 
hat. 
At the sight of the talisman the Wyvilo were all dumfounded, and one grizzled 
elder burst into oily tears. 
"The Three-Headed Monster!" he exclaimed, also speaking the human language. 
"Praise be to the Flower, she has taken it from the tree!" 
"And through it," the Prince added, "slain the leader of a mighty Glismak horde 
and routed its warriors, through calling down lightning from the sky." 
Sasstu-Cha asked Anigel: "Is this true?" 
"It is," said she. A new light had come into her eyes and new strength into her 
tired body. The trillium amber glowed in the white metal of the coronet and the 
open black flower within was plain to see. 
"You will blast the flesh-eating fiends to charcoal?" asked the tear-stained oldster 
eagerly. 
"Take me to the Glismak," Anigel said, "and you shall see what I will do." 
At another quay on the far side of the village, where a narrow channel separated 
Let from the mainland, an enormous fleet of crudely made Glismak canoes had 
assembled to accept the booty. By the time Anigel arrived, mountains of food 
sacks and heaps of other riches had been gathered together by the defeated 
villagers, and were being inspected by the Glismak chief, Hak-Sa-Omu, and his 
underlings. 
A hundred or so of the Glismak host were gathered on the pier, heavily armed and 
smirking with bloodstained fangs, oblivious to the pouring rain. A few of the 

victors prowled the still-smoking alleys in the vicinity, seeking the scorched 
bodies that they claimed as the rightful spoils of war. Others manned the canoes, 
while the vast majority of the Glismak army had regrouped on the mainland, 
awaiting the dividing of the loot. 
Speaker Sasstu-Cha addressed the Glismak chief in the aboriginal dialect. There 
was a brief spell of wrangling, and then Anigel was led forward. She removed her 
hat. The amber in her coronet lit up the rain-lashed dockside like a signal beacon, 
and at the sight of the talisman all of the Glismak voiced a deafening howl of 
defiance. 
"Be silent!" Anigel commanded. And the fierce Folk subsided. 
Then she began to address them in her own language, but Antar doubted not that 
her words were intelligible to all of those assembled. She said: 
"You know who I am. Your brethren of the Kovuko Valley have bespoken you 
over the leagues, telling what I have done. The talisman is mine, and since you are 
all People of the Flower you know that I must be one of the Three Petals of the 
Living Trillium. I am indeed. And I intend to bring peace to all this land." 
Her words were drowned by a great chorus of roars and hisses, but she lifted her 
arm and a mighty bolt of lightning slashed across the sky above, and the 
simultaneous blast of thunder stunned all the Glismak to silence. 
"You Glismak are poor. Your Wyvilo cousins are rich. You rob and kill them 
because you have done so from time immemorial, and you also eat their flesh 
because this is the custom handed down from your cruel ancestors. But I tell you 
that you will do so no longer! A new day has come. The old ways are ended and 
will not come again…" 
Watching and listening to her, Antar felt a sudden thrill of terror. Before his very 
eyes, the slender, lovely young girl was changing. She grew taller moment by 
moment. Her garments melted away and she was clothed in a robe of bright 
lightnings, red and blue and dazzling white. Her stature exceeded the height of the 
nearby warehouses; she towered into the stormy sky, arms stretched wide, her hair 
on fire, the amber at her brow as incandescent as a small sun, her voice like the 

sounding of a thousand trumpets. 
"I will have peace between the Glismak and Wyvilo! Peace between your race and 
humankind! Good things will be shared. The children of the Glismak will not 
make a profession of war as their fathers did, but will learn to work. No person 
will kill another under pain of my wrath, nor will you eat one another's flesh!" 
As the apparition had grown, the Glismak cried out more and more, and now they 
were affrighted to the pits of their savage souls. Those in the boats covered their 
eyes and cowered, and those on the dock and on the opposite shore fell on their 
faces, groveling. Only the chief, Hak-Sa-Omu, still stood upright, his glaring eyes 
starting out of their sockets and his great jaws agape. 
"The goods on this dock will not be taken!" Anigel declared. "The Glismak will 
withdraw empty-handed and remain in their home places until the dry season, 
pondering my words. If any Glismak force dares to emerge and make war, we will 
pour our wrath upon it" — three great thunderclaps hammered the air in quick 
succession — "and the disobedient warriors will not live to see the good things 
that will be given to those Glismak who obey my commands!" 
The towering giantess now had three heads. And each one was crowned with the 
trillium. 
"We speak now to Hak-Sa-Omu, chief of the Glismak! Do you hear, wretched 
one?" 
The leader uttered a small whimpering phrase. Prince Antar could see that he was 
shaking from his plated head to his taloned feet. 
"Will you take your people away and do as I have commanded?" 
The feeble reply could only have been affirmative. 
"Will you wait in peace for me to come again?" 
Again affirmative. 

"Then go!" 
There was a final detonation that blinded and deafened all the spectators, and then 
the apparition was gone and so was Anigel. 
Hak-Sa-Omu uttered a quick word, and he and every one of his Folk remaining in 
Let went scrambling pell-mell into the canoes, which set out with frantic haste for 
the shore. The Glismak then abandoned their boats and scurried away into the 
night. 
Out from behind a stack of fine furniture came small Princess Anigel, dressed 
again in her hunting garb and with her wet blonde hair straggling down her 
cheeks. She smiled up at the Wyvilo elders and the Prince, who hailed her. 
"Powerful Lady," the Speaker exclaimed, bowing profoundly, "you have indeed 
saved us as you said you would! Forgive this lowly one for doubting you." 
"You did it!" Antar cried. "And without killing a one of them!" 
"I was stupid not to have thought of the way sooner," she said calmly. "The 
Glismak are like children. You do not argue and attempt to use sweet reason with 
children, especially when they are in a willful and murderous mood. 
Unfortunately, all you can really do under such circumstances is frighten them 
into behaving. Then later, they can be reasoned with and educated." 
"It is so." Sasstu-Cha nodded his head. "Any parent knows it." 
"I could not have killed them," Anigel admitted in a much lower voice, so that 
only Antar and the Speaker could hear. "But it was not necessary. It seems that all 
kinds of thoughts can be made manifest through the talisman. And so as the 
Glismak fled, I told them that they would be my people and I would love them." 
"So will we also be yours," said the Speaker. "And this one declares to you, 
conquering Princess, that we are now your debtors, and our honor demands that 
we repay you for the unprecedented thing you have accomplished here tonight." 

All of the other Wyvilo standing about joined their voices to that of the Speaker, 
for even the ones who did not know the language of the Princess somehow 
understood what had been said. 
Anigel lowered her eyes for a moment. The rain still fell, but not hard, and to the 
southwest the sky showed stars. There would still be a few clear days before the 
Feast of the Three Moons. 
"Dear friends," the Princess said. "Your Glismak foes were grownup children. But 
I now must face enemies who are fully mature — not only in the ways of war but 
also in the spinning of evil enchantments. They would not flinch before my silly 
horror-show, nor be moved by my profession of love. I was sent on my quest by 
the White Lady, whom we all revere. Long ago, at the time of my birth and that of 
my two sisters, she said that we three Petals of the Living Trillium faced a terrible 
destiny. But she also said that all would be well. Throughout most of my quest I 
could not believe that this last was possible. But now I am willing to trust." 
She took one of Antar's hands and drew him close to her. 
"Here is Labornok's next rightful King. He is a good man. In Ruwenda Citadel is 
his wicked father, Voltrik. I shall set out for the Citadel at dawn tomorrow, and 
there I will cast King Voltrik down from the Ruwendian throne he seized. Sasstu- 
Cha, if you and your people would truly repay me, then accompany and defend 
me as I regain my kingdom." 
"We have some five hundred surviving warriors, Princess, and they will go where 
you bid them. Our war-chief, Lummomu-Ko, was slightly wounded and rests in 
hospital. But he will be eager to pledge himself to you tomorrow. Anything that 
you desire of us, you may have." 
Anigel said: "Prince Antar will be in command of those who follow me. I thank 
you and your people with all my heart for rallying to my cause. But I must warn 
you that my enemies are powerful—" 
"So is the talisman you wear," said Sasstu-Cha. 

The Princess sighed. She took the coronet off her head, opened the front of her 
tunic, and slid the little tiara inside. "For the rest of this night, I will let it rest. And 
so must I, for I am weary beyond telling." 
"You and your Prince must accept my hospitality," the Speaker said at once. And 
the other Wyvilo elders smiled and bowed, and with many a gesture and word 
urged Anigel and Antar to come along. So they went off down the street of 
blackened, steaming ruins into the untouched part of the village, and after a while 
the clouds passed on and the Three Moons shone down and were reflected on the 
quiet river. 
As she undressed and lay down to sleep in the room of the Speaker's oldest child, 
who had given up her bed joyfully to the savior of Let, Anigel could not escape 
the feeling that someone was watching her. Arising, she looked out the windows, 
into the closet, and even under the bed, but no one was there. 
And then she saw the talisman's light throbbing beneath the clothes she had piled 
on top of it. 
Reluctantly, she took the coronet up. She did not want to put it on. Had she not 
done enough for one day? What if another dreadful vision should come to her, 
spoiling the sleep she needed so desperately? 
Put it on. 
"Oh — oh, lothok-dung!" the Princess cried petulantly. Sitting on the edge of the 
beautiful Ruwendian-style bed, she placed the coronet lightly on her hair. 
"Kadi!" she cried. And she nearly fainted with happiness, for there in the vision 
was her sister, her eyes dancing and a great smile upon her dirty face. She sat by a 
campfire with large numbers of grinning Uisgu gathered round, and in her lap was 
a glowing thing like a blunt sword with a pommel of three dark balls conjoined, 
and at their center was the shining amber of a trillium amulet. 
"Well, it's about time you responded to me!" Kadiya said with some irritation. 
"You've been so involved with yourself that you paid no attention whatever to my 
bespeaking. And I never thought to hear such words from your mouth, either." 

"Kadi, Kadi!" Anigel was laughing and weeping at the same time. "You are alive 
and safe!" 
Her sister flourished the glowing thing. "Thanks to the Three-Lobed Burning Eye, 
my talisman." 
"I saw you —" Anigel hesitated. "My own talisman vouchsafed me a vision 
showing you the captive of General Hamil." 
Kadiya's face became sober. "They took me, a band of scouts of Hamil's force, not 
long after I secured my talisman. I had yet little idea of what this" — she held up 
the sword — "was capable of doing. The Red Voice of Orogastus learned first, to 
his death. After that no one dared try to take it away, but Hamil hoped to force me 
to give it up. There were Uisgu women under his power he could use to coerce 
me." 
"Oh, Kadi —how monstrous!" 
Kadiya was frowning now. "There is nothing merciful about the war we fight 
now, Sister mine. Have you not yet learned that for yourself? There is power in 
this." She glanced at the pointless sword she held. "But power is a burden — one 
must use it sparingly, Anigel, and only with a clean mind. Even anger can serve, 
but it must be controlled: that is a part of wisdom which I have gained." 
"Then your talisman," Anigel whispered, "changed you, as mine changed me from 
a whimpering craven…" 
"My talisman gave me power which I must learn to temper with justice. Hamil, 
and those of the Skritek who stood to be his monstrous weapons — they were 
judged and shall not walk these ways again. For even a sword of mercy such as I 
now bear can deal death." 
"I —I also used my talisman to kill," said Anigel haltingly. "But only once, and 
then by accident. I could not possibly do it again." 

"I could," Princess Kadiya said very quietly, "if it again became necessary. And it 
may. There is still a remnant of Hamil's force heading back toward the Citadel. 
But meanwhile, the Uisgu and the Nyssomu gather. There is a small army which 
grows hourly. To me they have turned for leadership. May the talisman grant that 
I serve them as well as they would serve us." 
"Would they help us to regain our kingdom?" 
"They say that they will. The Uisgu seem so timid and frail when you meet them 
at the Trevista Fair — but they are really brave little things, and stronger than they 
appear. They can travel very speedily in boats pulled by a kind of giant pelrik —" 
Anigel laughed. "I know. I have become a blood-sister to such creatures myself 
and driven their boats." 
Kadiya smiled. "So I saw. And tomorrow you will set out with your own army 
toward the Citadel. And your princely sweetheart is your new general!" 
Anigel flushed, and said crossly: "He is not my sweetheart! But he is a noble and 
loyal man, and he has declared himself my slave forever." 
To this Kadiya said nothing, but only smiled. 
Anigel now had thought of a more important matter. "Kadi, besides my sight of 
you captured, I had another awful vision. My talisman showed me Haramis with 
Orogastus, and she seemed to be bewitched by him!" 
Kadiya became deadly serious. "There is more than enchantment at work between 
those two… Ani, I envisioned Haramis myself, and I greatly fear that our sister 
has fallen in love with the foul sorcerer. Or perhaps fallen in love with the power 
he has offered to share with her." 
"It's not possible!" 
"Yes, it is," Kadiya stated, her face grim. "I bespoke the White Lady through my 
talisman tonight. The Archimage is very close to death and wishes Haramis to 

attend her, but Haramis is determined to remain with the enchanter. I tried to 
bespeak Hara, but she did not answer me. You might try to reach her, but do not 
be surprised if she will not talk to you, either. Persons who are deeply in love have 
room in their minds only for one person." 
"This is dreadful. The poor White Lady! And our sister. If she has been seduced 
by Orogastus, then her talisman may be under his control! What can we do?" 
"Nothing at all. The Archimage has accomplished the task she set for herself. We 
three have our talismans. Still, we are free spirits, you and I and Haramis, and 
must make our own choices." 
In a voice trembling with foreboding, Anigel said: "You —you know that all three 
talismans must come together if they are to work their great magic properly. And 
there is a potential in them for evil as well as good." 
"Yes. So I learned from one I met on my quest—a servant of the Vanished Ones, I 
believe." 
"Vanished Ones? But how — " 
"It is a long story that will have to wait. Rest now, my brave little Sister, and so 
will I. We will meet soon at the Citadel." 
After the vision of Kadiya faded, Anigel tried to bespeak Haramis. She saw a 
vision of her sister asleep; but as Kadiya had predicted, Haramis did not hear the 
mental call, being totally rapt in a dream of Orogastus. 
Anigel removed her coronet. Its light had dimmed. "I shall never be able to sleep," 
she said to herself. But then she thought to touch the silvery tiara and ask it to 
grant her rest, and a moment later fell softly into slumber. 
In the morning, she and Antar and a great fleet of Wyvilo warriors went to fetch 
the group of knights encamped across the river. Then they sped up the Great 
Mutar to Tass Falls, where they discovered that the rest of the Labornoki force 
had abandoned their camp, ignoring the Prince's earlier order. 

A third great storm was threatening as Anigel and Antar and their people paused 
at the foot of the cascade and discussed what they would do. The Princess used 
her talisman to summon a vision of Tass Town, and the place was nearly deserted. 
All of the Labornoki flatboats of the Prince's search-party, as well as those of the 
garrison, had departed for the Citadel in anticipation of the approaching monsoon. 
There would be no foemen waiting at the top of the waterfall; but there would be 
no large watercraft capable of transporting Anigel's Wyvilo army to the Citadel up 
there, either. 
"We will ascend on the log-lift," Prince Antar said. "It will easily carry the Wyvilo 
canoes if we make many trips. At the top, we will have to wait until the big 
tempest subsides and then paddle up Lake Wum to the mouth of the Lower Mutar 
—" 
"No, Prince." The Wyvilo war-chief named Lummomu-Ko stepped forward. 
"There is a much better way to travel up the lake. And we will not have to await 
the end of the storm." He told Antar what was in his mind. 
Even though he was a man of stout heart, the Prince blanched. 
"Such a thing is possible?" Princess Anigel asked, overawed. 
"Even humans have done it," Lummomu-Ko said loftily. "There is a certain peril, 
of course. But if we win through we could be at Ruwenda Citadel in only a few 
hours." 
"Then we will do it," the Princess decided. 
The first raindrops began to patter down on the little army. The Wyvilo took no 
notice. They were equally at ease in sun or shower. 
The Princess called out to the knights: "My human friends, pack up your armor for 
now, since you will not need it for some time, and then we will be on our way. We 
will go to the vicinity of the Citadel and secrete ourselves in the Mire nearby. 
From there we will summon all the fugitive nobility and common people of 
Ruwenda who fled into the swamp to join us in retaking our country. My sister 

Princess Kadiya is likewise speeding to the Citadel together with a large army of 
Uisgu fighters. If God wills, we will be ready to engage the foe on the Feast of 
Three Moons." 
Anigel put on Immu's broad-brimmed hat to keep the mounting rain out of her 
eyes, and then was the first to mount the log-lift. 
Later on that same day, a pathetic, starving creature paddled into stormbound Let 
on a rickety reed raft and then fell into a swoon. The people of the village 
recognized her as being of the Folk, and hence Kin, and agreed that she must be 
given aid. When she came to her senses the following day and asked after Princess 
Anigel, the Wyvilo were astonished. 
"The great Lady is rushing on her way to her own Citadel," said the forest Folk, 
"with her magical talisman on her brow and an army of our people at her 
command. Our warriors have bespoken to us that they ride up the lake on the 
wings of the tempest, borne on large log rafts with sails widespread to run with the 
wind… But why might a wretch such as you ask after her?" 
"Wretch wretch wretch!" shouted Immu. "Because she needs me, that's why!" 
And she made such an outcry and commotion that they agreed at last to let her 
take a canoe when the storm abated, with three strong Wyvilo youths to paddle. 
And thus Immu went off in pursuit of her Princess. 
Chapter Thirty-Nine 
Orogastus and Haramis went together to the Cavern of Black Ice. She was eager 
to learn whether his vaunted ice-mirror was truly magical, or only another ancient 
device, as she suspected. 
Outside the frost-covered door, as he was about to deliver his incantation to the 
Dark Powers, he chanced to look down upon her, and saw her bright blue eyes 
shining wide in the silver-masked face, her lips softly parted in a smile of 
anticipation. 

Orogastus thought that she had never seemed so beautiful or exciting as she did 
now, star-crowned and dressed in the same silver and black that symbolized his 
own commitment to the Dark Powers. He could not help himself, but took her face 
in his gloved hands and kissed her mouth. 
In time their lips reluctantly parted. The sorcerer sighed. "I hope that the Powers 
will not be angry. But the sight of you, so lovely and mysterious and so close to 
me… Oh, Haramis, stay with me!" he pleaded, his arms tightening about her. "I 
know that the White Lady has called you. But she would take you from me, tell 
you the same old half-truths and untruths, try to bend your will to hers —" 
"Except for her help, I would not have been born," Haramis reminded him. "I 
must hear her dying words. She gave me my Black Trillium, sent me on my quest. 
I am sure that she guided and guarded me when I would have perished in the high 
mountains. I cannot ignore her plea. If you have spoken the truth, you have 
nothing to fear from my going." 
"She keeps the Crown of Ruwenda from you!" 
"No. She keeps it for me. And with or without it, I am Queen of Ruwenda—no 
matter whose soldiers occupy the Citadel!" She looked challengingly straight into 
his eyes. 
Orogastus sighed. "Why do we tarry out here in the chill? The ice-mirror awaits." 
He began his solemn invocation of the Dark Powers, beseeching deities that 
Haramis strongly suspected to be nonexistent to look kindly upon each of them. 
Poor deluded man! But she did not smile. Let them seem magical to him, while 
she continued to weigh his sincerity. She was becoming increasingly convinced 
that many of the extraordinary-powers wielded by Orogastus had nothing 
whatsoever to do with magic. But even so, he did use these powers. Can they be 
countered by my magic? she wondered, remembering his "magic" tablet. Quite 
possibly they can, but I had best not experiment on his precious ice-mirror—he 
would surely kill me at once if I damaged that. No, I shall watch, and learn. 
Haramis did not have to feign awe when he led her into the chamber of the great 
ice-mirror and summoned its resident demon. Orogastus had proposed that they 

use the mirror to scry her two sisters, and she had agreed at once, feeling guilty at 
having neglected to look for them herself, through her talisman. But having done 
it that first day and seen them safe, she had forgotten Anigel and Kadiya in her 
own preoccupations, which seemed so much more momentous… 
Now, having been cautioned to keep silence, she waited as Orogastus intoned his 
request and the mirror (which she could see clearly was some sort of machine, and 
not even in the best working order) responded with gibberish and produced first a 
map and then an amazing fully colored image of Kadiya, followed by a similar 
manifestation featuring Anigel. Both sisters were voyaging on the water, in heavy 
rain, and neither spoke, although the mirror gave forth the natural sounds that 
accompanied each vision. 
Kadiya traveled with a veritable army of Uisgu Oddlings and rode in a native 
vessel cleverly fashioned of reeds. The map-plot of the mirror showed that this 
Uisgu flotilla was in the Upper Mutar just above Trevista. The great river flowed 
turbulently and was laden with uprooted trees and other flood debris; but neither 
this nor the steady downpour seemed to inconvenience Kadiya or her small 
companions. Some of the Uisgu wore armor of golden scales, as did the Princess, 
and all of the Oddlings carried primitive weapons. But Kadiya had not even her 
little dagger anymore, but bore only her talisman, that strange thing like a 
pointless Sword of Mercy. 
The vision of Anigel was more alarming. The mirror showed a massive raft built 
from great logs lashed together with stout ropes. It was equipped with a stubby 
mast and a broad square sail, which caught the wind-blast and sent the big craft 
charging and crashing through mountainous waves. There was a tiny cabin, little 
more than an open box, in which Anigel crouched quite calmly, drenched to the 
skin, her talisman coronet clamped on her head. Crude railings were fixed around 
the perimeter of the raft, and many knotted ropes fastened to these and to the mast 
gave hand-holds to the numerous passengers. Some of them were prone and 
bedraggled humans, while others were Oddlings of a peculiar and formidable 
appearance, tall in stature, who actually seemed to be enjoying their wild ride. 
Haramis was careful to say nothing until the mirror went dead, although her mind 
teemed with questions. It was clear from the maps that both of her sisters were en 
route to the Citadel, and both had found and were using their talismans. Had the 
White Lady given them special instructions, or were they acting on their own? 

Could they possibly be intending to attack King Voltrik's heavily armed troops 
with their mobs of aborigines? Did their talismans make them think such a lunatic 
course of action might succeed? 
It almost seemed that Orogastus could read her mind. "Your sisters," he said, after 
the ice-mirror had winked out, "have both used their talismans to kill." 
Dumb with shock, Haramis could only stare at him. He led her from the mirrorchamber 
through the cavern and out into the tunnel that led back to his tower. 
"Kadiya and Anigel mistakenly think that they will be able to liberate Ruwenda 
using the talismans as magical weapons—with help from their Oddling friends 
and from Prince Antar, who has denounced his father and pledged himself to the 
cause of Princess Anigel. She saved his life back in the Tassaleyo Forest, and he is 
now hopelessly smitten with her. Of course, neither of your sisters has the faintest 
chance of success against Voltrik. They do not yet fully understand the workings 
of their talismans nor their limitations. They undoubtedly think they have only to 
wave their talismans at the Citadel, and all their enemies will fall down dead… 
But this will not occur. Voltrik is protected by my own strong magic, under the 
command of my Green Voice." 
"Oh, the silly fools!" groaned Haramis. "I cannot believe that the Archimage has 
ordered them to attack the Citadel. They are doing this on their own!" 
"The talismans that Kadiya and Anigel hold were not intended to be used alone. 
My researches have made this very clear. The Vanished Ones used the three 
devices as one, in a great Sceptre of Power, to establish some mysterious great 
balance of the world. It is your duty, Haramis, to bring together once again the 
Three in One. Wielding it, you alone can rule over a world reborn into peace and 
prosperity." 
"I? Rule the world?" She laughed. Her mind had frozen at his words, rejecting 
them even as he spoke. She asked herself what might be the great scheme that the 
White Lady had held back and was now prepared to reveal. I shall go to the 
Archimage as soon as I can, she decided. 
As they hurried along, she glanced sidelong at Orogastus through the eyeholes of 

the silver mask, and saw that his mouth was tight-lipped. He had not spoken 
frivolously. He believed what he had told her, and she had best take it seriously. 
She would have to go to the Archimage at once and demand an explanation of this 
Sceptre of Power. But what of her sisters? If he did not know already, Voltrik 
would soon learn from the sorcerer of their advance upon the Citadel. He would 
send his army — and doubtless the Green Voice also — to meet them. 
"Orogastus," she asked, "could you keep Voltrik from sending troops after my 
poor sisters? Let me convince the two of them to turn away!" 
"If they withdraw at once into the depths of the swamp, they will be in no 
immediate danger. Voltrik's soldiers would be hard-pressed to fight an offensive 
war or even mount an effective pursuit during the rainy season. But do you think 
your sisters will listen to you?" 
"They always did before. But now, having their talismans…" Haramis's voice 
trailed away into silent anxiety. 
"I can order my Green Voice not to smite your sisters with my lightnings, or other 
occult weaponry. But there is no way that I can stop King Voltrik from dealing 
with them or their Oddling rabble as he chooses. Their talismans will not protect 
them. If I were there at the Citadel, I might prevail upon Voltrik. From here, 
working only through my Voice, I cannot." 
They came to the tunnel's end and entered the tower, where welcome heat 
enveloped them. Haramis stopped inside the small foyer and took Orogastus by 
the hands. 
"There is yet time. For both of us, and for my sisters. I do not know what plans 
you now have. I do not want to know, until I have finally made up my mind about 
us. But — if I fly at once to the Archimage and then decide, will you meet me at 
the Citadel to receive my answer? And while you are waiting for me, will you 
prevent Voltrik from sending his army out against Anigel and Kadiya? I can make 
them turn back! I know I can! But I must first learn the intentions of the 
Archimage—" 
"Let me guide you! I already have a plan — " 

"No!" She took off the star-mask, and stood there pale and trembling, and she was 
unbending this time as he embraced her and kissed the top of her head. 
"My dearest one, you will do as you must do," he told her. "But there is one 
serious flaw in your strategy. I have no way to go quickly to the Citadel. Unlike 
you, I cannot command the lammergeiers." 
"I will ask Hiluro to summon one of his fellows to carry you there." 
His hands tightened about her. "You would do this? Trust me so far?" 
The face she lifted to him was wet with tears. "You are a man who has long 
guarded his secret heart. Perhaps you have built such strong ramparts about it that 
you are no longer sure what lies within… I think that you are not certain which 
way to take. Like me, you will have to make a choice." 
"Yes," he admitted. His arms fell away, and he did not meet her eyes. 
"The lammergeier will come for you," she said. "We will meet at the Citadel, just 
before the Feast of the Three Moons. Expect me." 
And then she was gone, leaving him standing alone, and her silver star-mask lay 
on the floor looking up at him with empty eyes. 
Chapter Forty 
When the wild voyage of the log rafts up Lake Wum ended late on the same day 
that it had begun, the Wyvilo steered the fleet of ungainly craft into the Greenmire 
forest islands of the Lower Mutar delta, still under cover of the storm. 
There the Nyssomu met them with a hundred punts, and greeted Princess Anigel 
with much deference. The little swamp Folk ferried her and the knights and the 
Wyvilo warriors via secret backwaters to a large hummock unknown to humans. 
This place, which would become the staging area for Anigel's army, was located a 
few leagues away from a manor on the River Skrokar that had belonged to the late 

Lord Manoparo of the Oathed Companions. The castle of the manor had been 
seized and occupied by Labornoki troops; but the outbuildings and dower house 
still sheltered Manoparo's large family and most of his servants and domestic 
retainers. 
The mistress of the manor, Lady Ellinis, had been advised by the local Nyssomu 
of Anigel's coming. The Lady was brought out to the isolated hummock long after 
nightfall, and she greeted the Princess with tears and guarded enthusiasm. 
Lady Ellinis was a grey-haired dame whose fine face was now deeply lined with 
bereavement. In addition to her husband, two of her sons had also perished in the 
futile defense of the Citadel. She sat with Anigel inside a shelter that the Wyvilo 
had set up in a dripping grove of gondas, and the two of them discussed the 
Princess's plan for besieging the Citadel together with her sister Kadiya and the 
latter's force of Uisgu. 
"That you would dare such a thing so soon after the conquest amazes me," Ellinis 
said. "And perhaps it is true that Voltrik's forces are not yet completely 
entrenched, and his army is divided, and they are on unfamiliar ground with the 
rainy season upon them. But still —! You two girls are so young! Utterly 
inexperienced in warfare! And even if our scattered nobles and freeholders rally to 
you as you hope, your army is yet composed mostly of Oddlings. My darling 
Princess Anigel, I wish nothing more in the world than your success. But the 
Labornoki are hardened fighting men, and the odds are greatly against you." 
Anigel only touched her coronet, where the trillium amber glowed. "I know not 
why I am convinced that victory will be ours, but I am. Perhaps this talisman is 
the thing that gives me the confidence to attempt such an audacious endeavor. All 
I can tell you, dear Ellinis, is that I felt impelled to come here now, with the Three 
Moons converging, and engage the Labornoki who hold the Citadel. My sister 
Kadiya is of like mind." 
Lady Ellinis drew her heavy cloak more closely about her. A small brazier burned 
in the shelter and on it Anigel was brewing darci tea against the penetrating 
dampness. Ellinis said: "I was astounded when a Nyssomu came secretly to me 
and informed me that you were sailing up Lake Wum. Of course, the Oddlings can 
bespeak each other without words, and I suppose they will have passed the news 
all over the Mazy Mire by now…" 

"To all the Folk—yes," Anigel agreed solemnly. "My Wyvilo allies have never, 
up until now, had much dealings with their Nyssomu or Uisgu cousins. But the 
conquest of our country by Labornok was a disaster not only to Ruwendian 
humans, but also to the aborigines who dwell among us. And so the Wyvilo have 
put aside their ancient customs, and even the peaceable Nyssomu are willing to 
join us and do what they can." 
Outside, where the rain had stopped and night-mists now hung thick, the Wyvilo 
were busily constructing more brush-and-bamboo shelters for themselves and for 
others who were expected to arrive at the hummock later. Like all Folk, they could 
see readily in the dark and went about their work as efficiently as though it were 
broad daylight. 
Catching sight of a tall Wyvilo axeman, Lady Ellinis shivered. "I have never seen 
Tassaleyo Forest Oddlings before, and I confess that their mien is rather 
frightening. They are not as dreadful-looking as the Skritek, of course, and they 
seem fairly civilized. Nevertheless, I wonder that you are able to put such trust in 
them." 
Anigel smiled. "Their faces are terrifying, but at heart they are noble and revere 
the Black Trillium just as their smaller kin do. Thanks to the Wyvilo, we were 
able to send word via the Nyssomu to the scattered bands of free Ruwendians, 
who are hastening here from all directions to join my army." 
"My own people and my three surviving sons are yours to command," Ellinis said, 
"and you are welcome to what stores of food we were able to hide from the 
enemy. But there are at least five hundred Oddlings here already, and you say that 
you expect three or four times that number of humans and Nyssomu to gather here 
within the next two days. I fear that we will not have victuals enough to feed such 
a throng for more than a few days." 
"We will not be here for very long. If we are not victorious during the Feast of the 
Three Moons, we will have to withdraw," Anigel confessed. "But we will win out. 
I know it!" 
The Princess was on her feet, stern-faced and still dressed in the blue hunting kit 

that the Wyvilo had given her. Lady Ellinis marveled at how greatly the girl had 
changed from the giggling little person she had seen at a royal ball scarcely five 
weeks earlier, before the invasion. That Anigel had been a shy ornamental with 
hardly a thought in her pretty head that did not involve court gossip or the latest 
fashions. This new young woman was frightening in her dedication, and Ellinis 
hardly knew what to make of her. But the Princess poured tea for her guest 
without a trace of her old flightiness, as gracious and confident as though the 
sooty crock were a silver pot, and the damp and drafty shelter the Queen's solar in 
the Citadel. Gradually Ellinis lost her misgivings and began to think that the 
impossible venture might not be utterly hopeless after all. 
"This Prince Antar." The older woman lowered her voice to a whisper. "It was 
clear to me when you introduced us that the young man is deeply in love with you. 
Nevertheless, I feel it is my duty to caution you about placing too much reliance 
upon him." 
Anigel nodded and sat down again, her face without expression. "He has pledged 
fealty to me, and so have most of his men. But there are three of his knights who 
withheld their troth, and these the others watch closely and exclude from our 
councils of war." 
"But Antar and his knights are Labornoki, after all!" 
"Dear Ellinis, I am no longer as simple and gullible as I once was, and it is true 
that Prince Antar must still prove his loyalty to me. You say he loves me and this 
may also be true. But I have only a fond respect for him, and even that is yet 
wary." 
"Good!" said Ellinis sturdily. 
"But I must trust Antar in some matters, since I know nothing of fighting. If we 
are to succeed, we will do so under his generalship. I know not what lies deep in 
his heart, but I am convinced that he is a good man, and one who deplores the 
cruelty of his father, King Voltrik. He has told me that there are many others 
among his people who feel as he does, and it may be that we will, through him, 
divide our foe's loyalty." 

"I shall pray that you are right." 
They spoke for a while longer, and then it was time for Ellinis to go. The Lady 
kissed Anigel, which the Princess quite expected; but Anigel was quite taken 
aback when Ellinis also bowed deeply to her before going away with her servant 
and her Nyssomu guide. 
To Antar, who had come in when Ellinis was taking her leave, the Princess 
remarked: "She never showed me such deference before. In fact, being a woman 
of serious bent, she rarely paid much attention to me at all!" 
"The more fool she," said the Prince, smiling. "But I have come to tell you that 
our camp is growing apace, and there is now adequate shelter should the rain 
commence again." His face sobered. "The Wyvilo war-chief Lummomu-Ko feels 
that the Nyssomu, even though willing, will make poor warriors. They are so 
small, and the only weapon most of them can use with facility is the blowgun. In a 
frontal assault, they would be useless. We can only utilize them in skirmishes and 
irregular actions." 
"Then plan to do so," Anigel said serenely. "Do you have any estimates on the 
number of humans who might follow us?" 
"With luck, seven or eight hundred free Ruwendians might be able to join us here 
or reach the river below the Citadel by the Feast of the Three Moons. These will 
be mostly knights and soldiers who escaped into the Mire when the Citadel fell, 
together with some lords and men-at-arms from outlying manors south of here 
who never engaged us — I mean, never engaged your enemies — during the late 
invasion." 
"Very good. Now if only the Count of Goyk and the other free lords of the far 
Dylex can arrive in time — " She broke off, suddenly turning away, her face 
darkened with chagrin. 
Antar, who had never heard of the Count of Goyk and knew nothing of that 
worthy's place in Anigel's plan, at that moment realized that she still feared to 
confide in him completely. He dropped slowly to his knees. 

"My Lady, if you command me, I shall say nothing of this Count to my loyal 
companions. I beseech you to have faith in us — but if you cannot, perhaps it 
would be best if you placed me and my knights under arrest. Then you would be 
freed of any anxieties our presence might engender." 
"I do trust you," Anigel said unhappily, "and most of your knights as well. It is Sir 
Rinutar and his cronies Turat and Onbogar whom I feel might betray us. I know 
they have pledged a truce, but I fear it was a grave mistake to bring them here to 
this secret camp. We should have left them on the lakeshore, as Lummomu-Ko 
advised." 
The Prince bowed his head. "Perhaps. But marooned in the midst of the storm, in 
a swamp full of unknown perils… they would surely have perished before finding 
their way to a Labornoki garrison. As you yourself agreed." 
"I would not have them die! But neither can I let them betray us to King Voltrik." 
Kneeling yet, he took hold of her hand. It was icy cold. "Be of good cheer. The 
three would be lost in minutes if they attempted to leave this hummock and range 
out into the Mire, and there is no one here who would aid them to escape. My 
fifteen true companions and I will see to them. Have no fear." 
She sighed and turned her eyes back to him. "I suppose you are right. I am tautdrawn 
as a bowstring, anxious about what will befall us in the next three days. 
The Count of Goyk that I inadvertently spoke of—he holds the most distant 
fiefdom of Ruwenda, far to the northeast of the Dylex, in the foothills of the 
Ohogans. Neither he nor the Count of Prok nor the other lords of the eastern 
manors were ever subdued by you Labornoki." 
"I know. It was to be our first priority after the Winter Rains. To pacify that 
country and also the south." 
"When the Wyvilo agreed to help me, I asked them if they would use their speech 
without words to discover what humans were unconquered. Through the Nyssomu 
I then made contact with those who fled the Citadel, and also certain nobles of the 
garrisoned manors, such as Lady Ellinis, and a few free manors of the south. This 
you already know. But my Wyvilo friends also bespoke the Vispi, the aborigines 

of the high mountains. And the Vispi told us of the counties of Goyk and Prok 
being yet free." 
He nodded. "I see. And then of course the mountain Oddlings called upon those 
lords to come to your aid." 
"The Count of Goyk is a hardheaded man, and he is also my Great-uncle Palundo. 
At first he would not believe what inhuman Folk told him — that my sister 
Kadiya and I were ready to attack the Citadel. But I myself bespoke the Vispi, 
imparting to them certain homely secrets that only members of the royal family 
know, and at last Uncle Palundo was convinced. When we and the Wyvilo quit the 
village of Let, two thousand armed knights and men from both Goyk and Prok set 
off from their remote enclaves in fast riverboats. They had a long way to come — 
but the waterways are already in flood and yesterday they safely skirted the castle 
of Bonor, about sixty leagues west of here. If all goes well, they will arrive in time 
to help us." 
Antar's eyes were shining. "Better and better! Oh, my Lady, I cannot tell you how 
you have lifted my heart! No longer does our position seem so forlorn. We are still 
outnumbered, but at least we will have greater numbers of experienced human 
fighters on our side!" And he kissed her hand in a transport of joy. 
Anigel stiffened. Then, seeing his dismay, she smiled upon him. 
"Is my touch then so repulsive?" he asked sadly. 
"No. By no means. I was only — surprised. There are so many things on my 
mind, you see." 
She looked so small and bemused, this young woman crowned with magic, 
perched uncomfortably on a mossy rock with her face lit only by the brazier, that 
his heart was ignited from pity and love and he rose to his feet and turned away so 
that she should not see the tears that had sprung to his eyes. 
"Yes, my Lady. You have much to think on. Too much for a person of such tender 
years and great sensitivity—" 

"I'll manage," Anigel said, rather briskly. 
He turned back to her. "Now I have offended you. I apologize most humbly." 
"And I accept." For an instant, their eyes met. Then she looked away and seemed 
abstracted again, and the rapport that had seemed to spring momentarily to life 
died aborning. 
Had he really seen it? Or was it only wishful thinking? He would have cried out to 
her that very minute, professing his adoration — but she had her eyes blindly 
fixed on one wall of the tent and seemed lost in a dream, one finger lifted to her 
silvery coronet. 
"I bid you goodnight, then," he said. 
But Anigel did not reply. She was listening to a vision of her sister Kadiya that 
had just sprung into her mind. 
"Haramis said what?" 
"Ani, she told me to turn back. Ordered me! As though I were still a naughty child 
refusing to come in from playing in the stables!" 
"Did she give a reason?" 
"She is afraid that Voltrik knows we are on our way, and that he will send troops 
out to engage us. But that's ridiculous! The Nyssomu would know at once if any 
large body of Labornoki left the Citadel. They would give warning, and we could 
easily hide away in the sloughs and backwaters of the Mire where no flatlander 
would have a hope of catching us. Of course I told her that. But she got all in a 
swivel, and started swearing upon her amulet and talisman that I was floating to 
my doom and sure to ruin some great scheme. When I asked if the scheme was 
hers or one of Orogastus, she became all huffy." 
"Can she have fallen under his dark spell, Kadi?" 

"Who can say… Has she bespoken you with the same line of tosh?" 
"Nay. But I have been so busy and distracted this day that I scarce had time to 
draw a quiet breath." 
"If she does try to bespeak you —don't answer!" 
"Kadi!" 
"I mean what I say. And tell Hara nothing more of our plans. She has gone to the 
Archimage at last, supposedly to hear the White Lady's version of our destiny and 
the purpose of our talismans. Perhaps our love-sick sister will recover her wits in 
Noth. But I shall not count on it. Bespeak her not again. She must know nothing 
of our plans until we all three meet in person and have this out." 
"Well… I suppose that is the sensible thing." 
"She also told me that the sorcerer will arrive at the Citadel tomorrow." 
"What — ? But he was there with Kara, in the mountains!" 
"She is lending him one of her magic birds as a steed. When I remonstrated with 
her — actually, I called her a besotted muck-for-brains — she insisted she was 
acting in our best interests." 
"Now we shall have his enchantment to contend against, as well as the armed 
might of Labornok! Oh, Kadi…" 
"Now, don't lose heart. Kara seems to believe that Orogastus has very little real 
magic at all. According to her, his thaumaturgy may be based upon nothing more 
nor less than some fabulous machinery of the Vanished Ones! The bolts of 
lightning, the gouts of flame and hail of steel pellets that destroyed the hill-forts, 
the ear-bursting horror that afflicted the Dylex townships, even the panic that 
seized the war-fronials of our knights —all some sort of mechanical trickery and 
not real magic at all!… If Hara is telling true." 

"Kadi, I just don't understand this. There must be magic! Our Black Trilliums… 
our talismans… the Archimage herself! Magic pervades the entire world!" 
"Never mind, Ani. The only important thing to remember is that our sister must 
not be allowed to stop us. So give no heed to her lunatic admonitions. I am still 
well ahead of Osorkon and his army, I have more than three thousand Uisgu 
following me, and I have worked out a plan for penetrating the Citadel and 
avoiding a pitched battle outside on the Knoll, where we would surely be cut 
down by Voltrik's cavalry." 
"Oh! Tell me!" 
"And have you blab it to that witling Antar? Nay! You'll learn of it when our 
armies meet on the Eve of Three Moons." 
"You misjudge me, and also Antar—" 
"I hope so. And I hope I misjudge our sister as well! Meanwhile, take great care 
and meet me in this place that I show you… When we confer, we will arrange for 
King Voltrik and Orogastus to join us at a very special celebration of the Moon 
Feast!" 
Chapter Forty-One 
Day was dawning rapidly when Hiluro began his descent toward Noth. Haramis 
had cried herself to sleep, then dreamed a conversation with a scandalized Kadiya, 
expressing disapproval of her dealings with Orogastus. No doubt Kadiya would 
have tried to stab him and been struck down with lightning for her pains — how 
dare she call Haramis's conduct reckless! Now Haramis felt horribly bleary-eyed 
as the growing light woke her. She was stiff in every muscle, but her position on 
the bird's back did not encourage much movement, so she looked forward to 
landing. 
As the bird circled over the small stone tower where the Archimage lived, 
Haramis looked down in bewilderment. The last time she had seen the place it had 
been covered in greenery and surrounded by a lawn dotted with wildflowers. Now 

only a few skeletal branches clung to the tower, and what remained of the lawn 
was brown and scattered with spiky weeds. The moat was low, and the little water 
that remained in it was covered with a foul-smelling scum. 
"What has happened here?" Haramis asked aloud. Hiluro twitched, and for a 
moment she thought he was about to answer her, but he remained silent. 
Could King Voltrik's soldiers have come this far? she wondered. No, there would 
be a different kind of destruction if they had. They would have burned and torn 
down, but this looks as though everything simply did. But there is no natural 
reason for everything to dry up like this, not at this time of year! 
She thought of the great number of gardeners formerly employed at the Citadel. 
Perhaps with the Archimage dying, her few servants — and Haramis had heard 
her mention only one, her steward — hadn't had time to take care of the plants. 
But even so, it wouldn't look like this! 
The lammergeier landed at the end of the drawbridge, and Haramis climbed off 
his back, her mind busy speculating on what she might find within. Was the 
Archimage already dead? She was still strong enough to speak to me last night, 
Haramis thought. 
A feeling of urgency possessed her, and she hurried across the drawbridge, along 
a mosaic floor almost covered with dead moss, past the now dry fountain, and 
across the garden, now barren ground with dead flowers strewn about, their roots 
still clinging to the earth which no longer nourished them. When she came to the 
black wooden door which led to the Archimage's chamber she was not surprised 
to find it standing ajar. 
The room was stifling hot, and an Oddling — a Nyssomu she had never seen 
before — crouched by the fire adding more peat. He looked up as her shadow, 
cast by the sun rising behind her, fell across him. "Lady Haramis," he said. 
"Welcome to Noth —she said you would be here in time." He nodded toward the 
bed. 
"Greetings… You must be Damatole," Haramis said. The Archimage had 
mentioned his name only once during their last meeting, but Haramis had been 

taught all her life to remember the name, face, and salient characteristics of 
everyone she met or heard of. Her parents had considered it an important part of 
royal training. 
"Yes, my lady." The little steward bowed to her. "It is my honor to serve the Lady 
Binah — and you. She sleeps now, but she should wake soon. Would you care for 
some tea?" 
"Yes," Haramis said gratefully, "I would indeed. Thank you, Damatole." The 
Oddling hurried from the room, and Haramis picked up one of the padded stools 
and quietly moved it to the side of the Archimage's bed. Sitting on it, she studied 
the sleeping woman. 
Binah looked even less well than she had in the scrying bowl, her flesh parched 
and sinking down about the bones of her face. She woke just as Damatole came in 
with the tea. "Haramis," she said slowly. "You came." 
"Of course I came," Haramis said. "You called me. Besides, I need more 
information on how to use the talismans. Unfortunately, finding my Three- 
Winged Circle did not automatically teach me how to use it. 
Orogastus's library had some information on them — including a book that said 
the three of them should be joined together to form a sceptre — " 
"Not yet," the Archimage interrupted her. "You are not yet ready to control that 
power. That requires more wisdom than you have — much more." 
"Where am I supposed to learn this great wisdom? " Haramis snapped impatiently. 
"Grubbing around in the swamp while Voltrik's army plunders my kingdom? Or 
am I to find it in my sisters—who use their talismans to kill?" 
The Archimage looked sorrowful. "They do not yet possess wisdom either," she 
sighed, her voice trailing off into silence. It was several moments before she spoke 
again, and her question was unwelcome. "Why did you stay so long with 
Orogastus?" 

Haramis frowned, trying to find the right words to explain. "I was trying to learn 
what he was like—you yourself bid me find out his weaknesses. It's odd; he seems 
to think that the devices of the Vanished Ones are magical — he actually said as 
much! He was very upset when I broke one of them — he said it was dead. But 
machines aren't alive, are they?" 
"No," the Lady replied. "And do you think his devices are magical?" 
"No," Haramis said. "I cannot explain it precisely, but they don't feel magical. But, 
magic or machine, they give him power, and that power, whatever it is, can be 
used to do great harm. And while that power exists, I want to know how it 
works!" 
"So you went to Orogastus to learn the use of power? Was that wise?" 
"What is wise?" Haramis retorted bitterly. "You lie here in bed while my home is 
invaded and my parents horribly murdered and hundreds of Vispi are slaughtered 
because you summoned them too late against a foe they could not withstand. Is 
that wisdom? If so, what good is it?" 
"I know that you are confused and in pain, Haramis," the Lady said gently, "but 
you must learn to look beyond the moment and see the larger pattern." 
"That," Haramis retorted, "is exactly what Orogastus said. As if my parents were 
nothing, and their deaths didn't matter…" She found herself crying again, hurt and 
angry and bereft. And now you'll die, too, she thought despairingly, and I'll be 
alone with my kingdom occupied by enemy soldiers, my sisters who knows where, 
and King Voltrik trying to kill me and them. And I don't know what to do and 
nobody else seems to know either! 
"I have watched over Ruwenda for a long time," Binah said softly, "far longer 
than you realize. I have loved the land and its Folk and I have guarded them and 
helped them to grow as they should. It is a great work, and there is much joy in it. 
But now my time is ending, and yours is beginning." She turned her head to meet 
Haramis's eyes. "You said that Orogastus invited you to come to him. Tell me, 
Haramis, why did he invite you, and not your sisters?" 

Haramis gazed back at her, startled. "I don't know — I never thought to ask that." 
"And now that you know the question, what is the answer?" 
Haramis frowned, trying to remember exactly how Orogastus had worded his 
invitation, as well as what he had asked of her while she was with him. "I think 
he's lonely," she said slowly. "He spoke of my reputation for learning and of his 
desire to share his knowledge with me… I think he's looking for someone else like 
him, someone else who can use magic and think the way he does, someone who 
can understand what he talks about." 
"And are you like him?" the Archimage asked quietly. 
"In some ways I am," Haramis admitted. "I don't want to blast anyone with 
lightning, or invade someone else's land, or kill people — but I can understand the 
desire to search for knowledge, to try to make sense of the world…" 
"… to see the pattern of life around you?" 
"Yes," Haramis said, "exactly." 
"And when you have this knowledge, what do you do with it?" 
"What do you mean?" Haramis asked. 
"Would you use knowledge to hurt and destroy, to manipulate and bend others to 
your will?" 
"Of course not!" Haramis replied indignantly. "That's wrong. People are supposed 
to be free to make their own choices, not used as puppets for the amusement of 
those stronger or more intelligent than they are. But why should I have to do 
anything with knowledge? Why can't I simply study and learn and rejoice in the 
knowledge and vision I achieve? Why should I have to use it?" 
"Because you are what you are, and it shows. I can see it, Orogastus can see it, 

and any other with a knowledge of magic can see it." The Archimage's voice grew 
intense. "Haramis, you understand words. Most people never realize that words 
are important, that they matter, that to say a thing is to give it at least a shadow of 
existence — and to name it truly is to give it life. You hear, you listen, and you 
remember, and that is a rare gift. Without it, you would never understand magic, 
most of it would literally be inconceivable to you. Kadiya possesses great ardor 
and determination, and Anigel has compassion and a loving heart, but these gifts, 
while they are great in their own right, are not what is required for the full use of 
magic. Your passion is knowledge, Haramis, and that, combined with the royal 
blood of Ruwenda, will make you a magician. If you try not to use your abilities, 
you — and they—will be used by people like Orogastus." 
"Is that why I feel like a pawn in some game you and Orogastus are playing?" 
Haramis demanded. 
The Archimage's eyes burned in her face, as if all the life in the old woman were 
contained in them. "You feel like a pawn because you have been one, Haramis. 
But you are reaching the last square, where you can choose what to become." 
"A queen, of course," Haramis said in surprise. "Wasn't that choice made for me 
long ago?" 
"No," the Archimage said softly, almost in a whisper, "that choice is not made 
until you choose it. The important thing is for the world to be brought back into 
balance, which can only be done if you and your sisters can find your own 
balance. The Crown may not be your destiny." 
"What do you mean?" Haramis asked in horror. "Will we lose the kingdom to 
Voltrik? Will I be killed? Or has something happened to the Crown? I left it with 
you for safekeeping—did I do wrong in that? " 
"By no means." The Archimage's voice was feeble, but still audible. "The Crown 
is here, and safe." She turned her head toward the fire. "Damatole." 
Haramis would not have thought the Oddling could hear that whisper, but he 
hurried to Binah's side. "The time has come," the old woman whispered. He 
nodded, crossed to one of the cupboards on the far wall, took out a white bundle, 

and brought it to the Archimage. She slowly reached out a hand, grasped a fold of 
the cloth, and extended it to Haramis. As the bundle started to slide off the bed 
Haramis grasped at it. It fell open across her arms, and she saw in surprise that it 
was the Archimage's cloak. 
"Put it on, Haramis," Binah commanded in a whisper. "It is yours now. 
"Do you mean I am to be Archimage?" Haramis asked in surprise. I don't want 
this task, she thought in dismay. It's difficult enough to be Queen—and at least I 
am trained for that! But to be the new Archimage — the can't ask that of me! 
"You have the ability," Binah whispered, "but it must be your choice. I give you 
my blessing and my love, and one final warning. Remember that the line between 
self confidence and over-confidence is narrow and easily crossed. Guard yourself 
always. Choose wisely." Then her breath rattled in her throat and she lay still. 
Haramis stared at her body in shock. This can't be happening, she thought. I'm 
dreaming. I'm in my bed in Orogastus's tower and I'm having a nightmare, I've 
been reading too many books of magic, I— 
Haramis became aware that Damatole was speaking to her. "White Lady?" 
She turned slowly to look at him. "What is it, Damatole?" 
"What are your commands, Lady?" 
Commands? He thinks I'm the new Archimage. Why, oh why, did I ever get out of 
bed this morning —yesterday morning — whenever it was? She should tell him 
something; after all, he was only trying to do his job. Unfortunately, nothing came 
to mind. 
"Let me get you some water to wash with and bring breakfast," he suggested. 
"You must be hungry." 
Hungry. Yes, now that he mentioned it, she was hungry. 

"Thank you, Damatole," Haramis said blankly, "that would be very nice." 
Damatole served her a simple meal, then led her away to a small chamber where 
there was a cot. She lay down and slept, and when she woke it was afternoon, and 
there was a meal set on a small table next to the cot. Haramis ate every bite, and 
then went in search of Damatole. She found him in the Archimage's chamber, but 
she was surprised to see that the bed was empty. "Have you buried her body 
already, Damatole?" she asked. "I would have helped — " 
"There is no body," he replied. "Do you not remember?… No, I see you do not. 
The flesh that once enclosed Binah's spirit has gone to dust, as will this place, 
once you leave it." 
Haramis looked more closely at the bed. Yes, there was dust on the pillow where 
Binah's head had been. "Where is the Crown of Ruwenda?" 
Damatole opened the cupboard in the far wall and took out a bundle, wrapped in 
white fabric, which he handed to Haramis. When she unwrapped it, she saw with 
relief that the Crown was whole and undamaged. Would it turn to dust if it stayed 
here when I left? she wondered. 
"I shall get you a bag to carry it in," Damatole offered, hurrying out of the room 
without waiting for her response. 
Haramis tried to think of what she should do next, but when Damatole returned 
with a leather sack, she had not yet decided. Since he obviously expected her to 
leave, however, she summoned the lammergeier. Then it occurred to her that she 
was not the only one with no home. "Damatole, do you have a place to go?" 
He nodded. "My kin will fetch me away. It is arranged. There is only one last 
thing." He picked up the Archimage's cloak, which was still lying on the stool 
where Haramis had left it, and put it into the bag with the Crown. 
"Why have you given me this?" she asked as they left the building together, 
fearing she already knew the answer. 

"Because it is yours, White Lady," he replied. "And now I bid you farewell." 
A rising wind blew her hair back from her face. She looked up at the thickening 
clouds and wondered if it would rain tomorrow, on the Eve of the Three Moons. 
Hiluro dropped out of the clouds and landed beside her. Where would you go, 
White Lady? 
"Do not call me that," Haramis said in a low voice. "Not yet." She mounted the 
lammergeier, holding tightly to the bag with the Crown and cloak, and Hiluro rose 
into the threatening sky.
Chapter Forty-Two 
King Voltrik and the Green Voice waited on the parapet of the Citadel's High 
Tower, and the dark clouds seemed to billow only a few ells above their heads, 
hiding the flag of Labornok on its staff. Below, the extensive fortress and its 
outbuildings and courtyards were peculiarly silent, even though it was midafternoon 
and a time when the surviving Ruwendian servitors and freemen were 
usually hard at work. But on this day only the steady clang of a blacksmith's 
hammer broke the stillness, tolling like some discordant bell of evil omen. King 
Voltrik shuddered. 
"Is it the wretched feast upcoming tomorrow," he asked the Green Voice, "that has 
caused the conquered ones to shirk their duties? Full half of the usual Citadel staff 
claimed today to be stricken with ague and could not leave their beds — and those 
who are at work skulk about listlessly and seem barely able to carry on." 
"Something is in the air," the Voice admitted. "Certainly there is bound to be 
another great storm soon." 
"That's not what I meant," Voltrik snarled. "Something nasty is brewing, and I 
think you know what it is, and you are afraid to tell me!" 
The Green Voice lowered his hooded head in submission. "My Almighty Master 
will soon arrive, Great King, and he will put your mind at rest and answer all 

questions." 
The King uttered a guffaw of humorless laughter and abruptly turned away from 
the acolyte, to gaze out upon the expanse of land that lay to the north. The peculiar 
light made the lush green of the jungle seem especially intense, and the miresmells 
were also much stronger than usual. 
"If my mind is to be eased," Voltrik growled, "then why has the sorcerer 
commanded you to have all but a handful of our troops fall back to the Citadel and 
alert themselves for battle?" 
"A mere precaution — " 
"Liar! Both of you! Conniving traitors!" The monarch swung around and took the 
Green Voice by his shoulder. Even one-handed, he was able to shake Orogastus's 
assistant until his teeth rattled. "They're coming for me — the three Princess- 
Witches! That's it, isn't it? I could have been safely away from here, back in 
Derorguila, but you and Orogastus assured me that all would be well — that the 
witches were captured and their talismans taken. But you lied! And now they're 
coming for me, just as the prophecy said!" 
"Nay, Great King — " 
"I'm trapped here!" Voltrik howled. "Zoto have mercy on me! The army hates my 
guts because they're going to have to stay in this hellhole through the Rains, and 
the knights are bored out of their minds from inaction and drunk or wenching 
most of the time, and there is no one left to serve me but cravens and fools and 
traitorous tricksters plotting to take my kingdom once the Ruwendian demontrulls 
have finished me off!" 
The Green Voice dropped to his knees and clasped his hands in supplication. "Not 
so, not so! My Master will explain all when he arrives." 
"If he does!" Voltrik bellowed. He drew his short-sword and used the flat of it to 
mash the Voice's nose painfully against his face. "And if he does not, then your 
shaven, flap-eared head will take leave of its body, and I will hie me out of this 
sump of iniquity at dawn tomorrow! Better to risk the perils of the Rains than 

loiter here like a stupid nunchik in a slaughter-pen." 
A great blow of the King's foot sent the kneeling minion sprawling to the 
pavement. 
And there sounded a cry like a brazen trumpet. 
Startled, Voltrik flung his gaze in all directions but the correct one, so that he leapt 
with surprise when a gigantic black-and-white bird burst forth from the clouds, 
uttered another call, and glided to a landing on the parapet. 
From between its still-extended wings, Orogastus looked down at the 
thunderstruck King and bowed his head slightly. 
"Greetings to you, my Liege," he said calmly. "I am here as I promised, and 
prepared to deliver your enemies to you, as I promised also." 
"Zoto's Teeth! It's one of those things that serve the Archimage! And now it serves 
you — ?" 
Orogastus slid from the lammergeier's back. He thanked it briefly, to which it 
merely rolled its eyes and then ascended into the dark clouds with a single flap of 
its wings. 
"The Archimage," said the sorcerer with unconcealed satisfaction, "is dead. And 
her successor is none other than the Princess Haramis, who once spurned your 
proposed betrothal, and who is now under my power — although she still does not 
realize it." 
"By the Ten Hells!" Voltrik sheathed his sword, grimacing with relief. "And the 
other two royal sluts?" 
Orogastus walked to the tower's northernmost parapet and sat on the stone coping 
with his head lowered and his face concealed by the hood of his black cloak. 
Swiftly, using the speech without words, he gave orders to his acolyte. The Green 
Voice scrambled to his feet and disappeared down the trapdoor ladder. 

Then the sorcerer drew back his hood and smiled upon Voltrik with all of the old 
charm and compelling self-possession that had bewitched a brash prince some 
eighteen years earlier. 
"The other Princesses are indeed coming," Orogastus said. "Kadiya leads an 
undisciplined rabble of swamp-dwarves armed with blowguns and stone spears. 
Anigel's terrible host consists of a few hundred ugly-faced forest Oddlings, some 
faint-hearted Nyssomu, a troop of grubby Ruwendian partisans… and your son, 
the traitor, with his cadre of gnat-bitten turncoats." 
"But the Princesses have their talismans!" 
Orogastus nodded. "But they do not know how to use them properly. They no 
doubt think that all they need to do is to command our destruction. But I vow to 
you on my immortal soul that this is not the manner in which the magical 
instruments function. They are subtle weapons, and the Princesses are immature 
girls, with more spirit than brains, who do not understand such things." 
Voltrik sat beside the sorcerer, a scowl denting his brow, and chewed on his 
mustaches. He gestured out at the Mire. "We can't go out there after them. Not 
with the Rains starting. We'd never hunt them down in the swamp, not even with 
the help of those abominable Drowners." 
"No," Orogastus admitted. "And for that very reason they have been encouraged 
to come here to the Citadel, where our superior forces and my powerful 
enchantments will make an end of them once and for all!" 
Voltrik brightened. "You will blast them with your lightning? Devastate them 
with the sorcery you used in the conquest?" 
"I will lay the heads of Princess Kadiya and Princess Anigel at your feet. Haramis, 
who is my creature, will serve you body and soul." 
Voltrik giggled nervously. "I wouldn't mind that… if you can magick her into 
submission, that is. I always fancied tall wenches, and I'll have to breed more sons 

somehow…" 
"There will be a battle, Sire." Orogastus spoke almost with indifference. "It will 
take place within two days, undoubtedly at the Feast of the Three Moons." 
Voltrik was on his feet again, eyes agleam and voice overloud. "Good! Damn it 
all, that's what we need to get our blood moving again! Sitting here for a month, 
half the time sick unto death, has turned my heart as stagnant as this accursed 
swamp! Do you have the strategy for the fight worked out?" 
"Most assuredly, my Liege." Orogastus now arose also. "And this time, there is no 
doubt whatsoever that we will win. My great powers are honed, and I am eager to 
defend you. The army here in the Citadel is ready, and Lord Osorkon will soon 
arrive with an additional five thousand men… And lest you fret about the alleged 
power of the Princesses and their talismans, there is also this." 
From beneath his cloak the sorcerer took a bag, and out from this retrieved a 
wooden box carved with skulls and other symbols of death. He opened the box to 
reveal a dull green sphere about the size of a small ladu-fruit, set within a nest of 
padded black velvet. 
"This is a weapon more deadly than all my others put together. It was the second 
parting-gift to me of my late Master Bondanus —" 
"He who gave you the Golden Pastilles?" 
"Yes. They were a gift of life — but this brings only death of the most 
excruciating kind. It is only to be used as a last resort, for its bane will afflict 
everyone, friend or foe, who stands at ground level within a radius of a thousand 
ells. If its use should be required — if there is no other way in which to kill the 
Princesses — then I myself shall wield it." 
King Voltrik had paled, and could not take his eyes from the thing. "What is it 
called, and how does it work?" 
"It is known as the Doomful Effluvium, and it is a weapon older than the 

Vanished Ones, used against them by the ancestors of my Master, in their great 
struggle for the domination of the world. The sphere is of glass. Dashing it to the 
stones releases deadly vapors that bring death if a single breath of it be taken. I am 
prepared to use it to assure our victory — even though it will kill many of our own 
men as well as our enemies. You need not fear it yourself, Sire, as long as you 
remain on the upper levels of the keep. Its heavy vapors cannot rise far above a 
man's height." 
Orogastus closed the box and put it away. "Undoubtedly, it will not be needed. I 
show it to you only to prove that there is no way that these Princesses can win out. 
We are invincible." 
The eyes that the sorcerer now turned upon the grey-faced monarch seemed to 
become as brilliant as stars, and his soft voice compelled trust and drove away all 
fear. "You do believe me, do you not, my King?" 
"Yes," Voltrik replied in a tremulous whisper. "Yes." 
Knowing that her forces would now have to travel from their secret camp on the 
River Skrokar to Kadiya's hideout some fifteen leagues away in the trackless Mire 
just north of the Citadel, Princess Anigel had beseeched her talisman to conceal 
them from the enemy's magical sight. And lo! The day-mist had thickened to an 
opaque miasma that blinded the humans but bothered the Oddlings not at all. 
The Princess deemed this the answer to her prayer, and her force set out. The fleet 
of Nyssomu punts carried the entire host safely past Castle Manoparo, to the 
confluence of the Skrokar and the Mutar. Thence they proceeded up the great river 
itself, staying in the backwaters along the northern shore until they had turned off 
to the right into a clogged and twisting little channel. This led Anigel to her 
sister's staging area, where they arrived at nightfall. 
The place was another large hummock, but lit only by ghostly lanterns carrying 
tiny green-glowing swamp-worms. A Uisgu chieftain with great circles of red 
paint about his eyes and a full suit of golden fish-scale mail met Anigel's boat at 
the hummock shore, saying he would conduct her, Prince Antar, and the other 
Labornoki knights to the place where Kadiya waited. 

In the wan lantern light they disembarked, and followed a path to a simple leather 
tent where Kadiya and her Uisgu battle-leaders were poring over a drawing of the 
Citadel keep spread out upon a crude table. 
There were females there, for leadership was equal. But no long skirts loaded with 
fine embroidery were to be seen. One and all they wore woven grass breeches, and 
tunics overlaid with shells and tough scales, from shoulder to thigh, not unlike 
chain mail. They wore helms also, some fashioned of metal found in the ruins. 
Kadiya's hair was braided and coiled under hers. Save for her height, she might 
have been one of the general company. 
When the golden-haired Anigel caught sight of her older sister, she forgot 
everything else, and burst into tears of gladness, rushing toward the other with 
open arms. 
But Kadiya returned the embrace only hesitantly, and her dark eyes never left the 
face of Antar, who had remained at the entrance to the shelter, together with his 
men. The Prince looked from Anigel to her sister and there was the beginning of a 
frown on his face. 
"What is wrong?" Anigel exclaimed in dismay; "We—we are together once more, 
alive!" 
"Yes, I live," Kadiya returned stolidly. "But who are these who come with you, 
Sister? What pact have you made with them? Trust cannot be rooted in the spilling 
of kin-blood." She stared pointedly at the Prince. "Have you forgotten so easily 
whose steel slashed our world apart?" 
Anigel gave a cry as desolate as if Kadiya had drawn a weapon against her. "Antar 
is not to be feared or mistrusted, I will pledge my life on it! My very talisman!" 
And she lifted from her head the silvery coronet, whose trillium amber had begun 
to pulsate brilliantly as she approached her sister, and held it out. 
"Your Highness." The Prince looked to Kadiya straightly. "What must we swear 
by that will make you accept the truth?" 
Slowly, Kadiya drew from its sheath her own talisman. She reversed it and held it 

pommel up, so that it faced both Anigel and Antar. The three eyes opened, and the 
watching men muttered in consternation. 
"Sister, turn about," Kadiya commanded, "and let both our talismans pass 
judgment." 
With a stricken countenance, Anigel did as she was bid. 
"O Lords of the Air, great servants of God," Kadiya intoned, "reveal to us which 
of these knights will grant us loving service, and which would do us harm, and do 
unto the latter as they would do to us." 
There was a soundless blast of blue-white light. Prince Antar and his fifteen loyal 
companions tottered in their armor, their mouths wide in shock; but on the wet 
earth lay two other knights, unmoving. 
After the space of a few heartbeats, Sir Owanon bent over them. Shaking his head, 
he said: "Onbogar and Turat. Both stone dead." 
Anigel cried out for horror. But Prince Antar asked the others: "And where is 
Rinutar?" 
He was not among them; nor had anyone seen him since leaving the boat in which 
they had approached Kadiya's camp. Antar would have sent his men searching, 
but Princess Anigel bade them stay. 
"I will find him," she said quietly. And she put her talisman back upon her head, 
and her eyes seemed to look through all the others, in the direction of the Citadel. 
"He is mid-river. In a stolen punt." 
"Smite him!" cried bluff Sir Penapat. "He will raise the alarm!" 
"There is no need for that," said a new voice. 
This time it was Kadiya and Anigel who stood stock-still and gaping; for Princess 

Haramis had pushed her way through the crowd of armored men to confront her 
sisters. She wore the white cloak of the Archimage, and carried the Crown of 
State, unwrapped, in one arm. 
"Haramis!" her sisters exclaimed in unison. 
"Kadiya! Anigel!" Haramis embraced her sisters, then said: "Yes, it is I. You may 
as well let Rinutar go. King Voltrik and Orogastus already know that you are here, 
and that you intend to attack before moonrise tomorrow, when the feast begins." 
All of them, Uisgu and Labornoki, Kadiya and Anigel, even sturdy little Jagun, 
began to speak at once. 
Haramis lifted her talisman. The trillium amber set within the wand throbbed with 
golden light, as did the amber of the other talismans. Silence fell. 
Haramis said: "Sisters, I know what numbers of followers you have brought to 
this encampment." She tried not to let her incredulity show in her voice; they 
deserved her courtesy. "I have seen many more boats full of Uisgu approaching 
this place, as well as a large fleet of heavily armed Ruwendians coming in from 
the free northeast. But if you attack the Citadel, all of these loyal friends will die, 
for this venture is foredoomed." 
"Who told you so?" Kadiya demanded hotly. "Your dearly beloved sorcerer?" 
Haramis flushed. She hardly deserved that; though perhaps Kadiya could not be 
blamed for thinking so. She looked Kadiya straight in the eye. "Whatever you may 
think has happened between Orogastus and me, it is not I who have brought the 
enemy to our councils." She looked squarely at Anigel, standing close to Prince 
Antar. Anigel flushed, but said nothing. "As for doom — I am not blind, I can see 
it for myself. Your aborigines are only lightly armed. Count Palundo's force 
probably cannot get here in time — but even if it does, it will be countered by the 
five thousand men that Osorkon is bringing down the river. The other half of 
Voltrik's army is already on alert, ready to repel any assault you might mount. The 
great gates of the Citadel have been repaired — " 
"Perhaps," said Kadiya with a grin, "we have the wherewithal to open them. And 

to defeat your conjurer as well!" 
"You are gambling many lives on that assumption," Haramis pointed out. 
"Perhaps you do not know that you can no longer count upon the assistance of the 
Archimage." 
"Why not?" Kadiya demanded. "She has always assisted us before. Are you trying 
to tell us that she would aid Orogastus in this battle?" 
"No," Haramis said wearily. "I am trying to tell you that the Archimage is dead." 
It was Anigel who cried out in dismay. Kadiya said angrily: "How do you know?" 
"I know because I was there," Haramis said, and then her grief threatened to 
overcome her again. As yet she had shed no tears for the Archimage; but she did 
not dare to give way just now. She forced her voice to remain steady. 
"I tell you, Orogastus is waiting for you with all the arcane weaponry at his 
command, and he has called for the local Greenmire Skritek to walk. They are 
converging upon Citadel Knoll, and will harry and devour any of your people they 
can catch! Do you really believe you can face all that—and Orogastus's 
weapons?" 
There was a moment of silence, which seemed very long to Haramis. "You will all 
be massacred," she added quietly. "Withdraw, I beg of you. They can't follow you 
into the swamps at this time of year." 
"No!" Kadiya smashed her fist onto the table. "Orogastus has bewitched you! That 
is plain to see, for all that you have usurped the cloak of the Archimage." 
"Do you really think I wanted to take her place?" Haramis demanded. All of her 
fatigue, all of her grief for the Archimage threatened to overpower her again. 
"Yes, I do," Kadiya declared hotly. "You have always been greedy for power, 
Haramis. You cannot bear to think that either Ani or I might have a plan that is 
better than yours." 

The unfairness of this struck Haramis like a blow. She felt as if she would collapse 
under it. Kadiya surveyed her angrily, but Anigel saw the grief in her face. 
"I think you are being unfair, Kadi," she said. "Let us at least hear Haramis's 
plan." 
Kadiya glared at both of them. She said: "What of the Crown, Haramis? Will you 
and Orogastus share the thrones of Ruwenda and Labornok, after Voltrik is 
disposed of in this great plan of yours?" 
"Of course not! Kadiya, you simply don't understand." Haramis was almost 
despairing. How could she make her sisters see? 
It was little Jagun who said unexpectedly: "Let the talismans prove her true or 
false, as they did Prince Antar and his men." 
Haramis drew herself to her full height. "As you wish. But if your talismans are 
anything like my own, Sisters, you had best be very careful how you frame your 
test. For I have no doubt that my talisman, like yours, is capable of killing." 
"So be it," said Kadiya, as Anigel looked from one sister to the other in open 
distress. Their thoughts were easily read even by the Labornoki knights and the 
Uisgu. 
"Dearest Haramis," Anigel said forlornly, "we want very much to trust you, but 
we have seen you consorting with Orogastus." Anigel had tears in her eyes, but 
her voice was steady. "We have no other course but to ask if you will give us 
leave to test you." 
Haramis regarded her sister with a bemused expression. All of the others in the 
tent held their breath, and in the stillness could be heard the first patter of 
raindrops from the new storm, and a quiet murmur of many voices outside. 
Another band of recruits had arrived. 
She said quietly: "I did not ask to test you, though you brought your Prince here." 

Anigel flushed as Haramis went on. "Let it be as you will." She took her own 
talisman and held it before her face. "Test me, then." 
At that point, all of Antar's knights and the Uisgu left the tent in precipitate haste. 
Only the Prince and Jagun remained, and the small Nyssomu huntsman sketched 
the sign of the Black Trillium before each sister. Haramis handed Jagun the 
Crown; he took it reverently and knelt in a corner with his head bowed. 
Kadiya and Anigel still stood side by side, talismans raised. But this time it was 
the youngest Princess who spoke. 
"Dear Lords of the Air, have pity on us three. But also show clearly to us any 
danger we might pose to the great balance of the world." 
The three talismans glowed a deep crimson, filling the tent with brilliant light. The 
three Princesses were like statues, with eyes wide and lips slightly parted. 
Then coronet and wand and pointless sword took on a spectral aspect; they flew 
from their owners to a point midway above them… and there the talismans 
merged. The shaft of the wand slipped into the three-lobed pommel, and the 
coronet, with its monstrous visages below the cusps, engirded the Circle and 
closed; whereupon the three conjoined wings with their amber center were 
suddenly suspended within concentric rings. A mysterious voice spoke. 
In this Sceptre of Power is the potential for permanent balance, as well as for the 
ruin of this world. Consider most judiciously before commanding the Sceptre, and 
remember that those who made it were in the end afraid to use it… 
The blood-red light faded. Each Princess again held her own talisman. 
After many silent minutes, Prince Antar spoke. "Did the talismans answer?" 
Haramis stared, unbelieving, but it was Anigel who demanded, in the voice of one 
waking from a dream: "Did you not see and hear?" 
"Nothing, gracious Lady, save your own invocation." 

The three sisters exchanged glances. Without thinking, all three came together in a 
triple embrace. 
"So it seems I am exonerated," Haramis whispered. "Or am I?" 
"Of course you are," Kadiya said sharply, "but we will attack the Citadel 
nonetheless." 
Haramis frowned. "Are you both resolved on this?" 
"Yes," said Anigel. "If you will not join us, Sister, then at least do not hinder us, 
nor give aid to our enemies." 
"I will not," Haramis said. "But I must leave you. I must go to Citadel Knoll, and 
there… I do not know what I will do. But I know I must go there." 
Little Jagun had come from his place in the corner, still holding the Crown of 
State. "If you wish, Princess Haramis, I will take you in a punt." 
"I thank you," Haramis said. "But before I leave," she said to her sisters, "let me 
tell you something I learned during my time with Orogastus. Much of his socalled 
'magic' comes from devices of the Vanished Ones, and it is possible that 
your talismans may be used to break these devices. When my talisman touched 
one, the device ceased to function. This may work with your talismans as well." 
She hugged her sisters. "Kadiya, Anigel, be careful —and may the Lords of the 
Air protect you!" 
She took the Crown from Jagun. And then white-cloaked Haramis was gone with 
the Nyssomu huntsman, and only Antar was left with the other two Princesses. A 
grumble of thunder sounded and the rainfall quickened. 
Kadiya frowned at the tall young man in the blue armor. "You really saw nothing? 
No red light, no merging of the talismans? You heard no uncanny voice?" 
"Truly not, my Princess," Antar said. 

"The vision was for us, Kadi," Anigel said. "And especially, I think, for poor 
Haramis." 
"Poor?" Kadiya scoffed. "Why, here we stand, outcasts ready to go to war—while 
she, with Crown and cloak, chooses to watch on the sidelines!" 
"If we are able to win out without the Sceptre, then she will indeed be the luckiest. 
But if we need it…" 
Kadiya threw back her shoulders, and grasped the pommel of her talisman firmly. 
"It will not come to that." 
And then, speaking briskly, she invited Prince Antar to call in again the loyal 
knights and the leaders of the Folk, so that she might explain the plan of invasion 
to all of them. 
Chapter Forty-Three 
That night Haramis slept safe and dry beneath a tree on the shore of the Knoll, in a 
small park beside the Citadel Landing. She told her talisman to conceal her from 
sight, and a mist effectively hid her from the few guards on duty at the docks. 
In the morning the storm had passed, but the fog lay heavier, enclosing her within 
a soft grey room where the only sounds were the occasional chirps and squeaks of 
birds and insects, and the slow dripping from the margin of the tree canopy. The 
dock guards, she discovered, had retreated to the Citadel. The road from the 
Landing led directly to the main gate of the fortress less than a league away, and 
she knew that one part of her sister's foolhardy plan involved an attack along this 
most obvious route. 
She sat quietly in meditation, and prayed for guidance. It was difficult; other 
thoughts kept intruding, worry for her sisters, grief for the loss of her parents and 
the White Lady, anger at Kadiya's accusation that she had usurped the 
Archimage's robe— as if I even wanted it! But who else is there? Does Kadiya 
think she could be Archimage? 

As if the thought had summoned her, Haramis saw the slender image of Binah 
appear before her, robed in her shining white cloak with the hood hiding her face. 
But the hands that rose slowly to push back the hood were young and unlined, and 
Haramis felt a sudden pang of dread. What would the face be? Would it be 
Kadiya's — or some horrible demon? 
It was neither; the face was Binah's, but it was transformed: radiant and no longer 
old. It was as if all that was mortal in her had departed and what remained was her 
spirit in pure form. 
Lady. Haramis bowed her head. 
A hand seemed to caress her hair and a clear musical voice which was still 
somehow Binah's said, What is it, my daughter? 
My sisters, Haramis replied miserably. They think I'm in love with Orogastus — 
bewitched by him, in fact—and Kadiya actually accused me of usurping your 
cloak! 
But you know that is not true, the gentle voice said. In time they will learn it also. 
Kadiya said I was power hungry. 
And she thinks that is why you wear the cloak. It was not a question. Igave it to 
you, Haramis, but I cannot force you to wear it. It is a burden, and other people, 
even those who love you, will never understand why you do this work. It must be 
done for itself, not because someone else wants you to do it, or will praise you for 
doing it. 
The work is well worth doing, Binah continued. It is always there, waiting for the 
one called to do it. Someone must care for Ruwenda, must make certain that it 
grows as it should—or at least that it survives until someone stronger can pick up 
the burden. There is great joy in the labor: to see the beauty of the pattern and to 
know that your efforts help to maintain it, to hear the voice of the land and its 
Folk, to feel the cycle of the seasons and the greater cycle of the ages . . . 

Binah's voice fell silent, but in that silence Haramis seemed to hear and feel 
Ruwenda in a way she never had before. It seemed as if the land had a pulse, a 
heartbeat, and Haramis felt her own heart matching the rhythm she heard. It 
seemed to her that there was a song in that pulse, a song she could almost hear and 
understand — if she could only reach out and truly listen… 
She sat entranced for a long time, only dimly aware of Binah's departure. 
Then a metal tray appeared before her, and invisible hands lowered it into her lap. 
On it were four hearts, apparently human, and a pitcher of sea water. Wash these, 
a voice commanded. In Haramis's dreamlike state, this seemed a reasonable 
request. She picked up the first heart. It fit comfortably into her hand and pulsed 
gently with life and warmth. She poured the sally water over and through it, and 
the invisible hand took it from her as she finished. She repeated the procedure 
with the second and third hearts, which seemed identical to the first. But when she 
picked up the fourth heart it felt different, odd. Something on the bottom of it 
pricked her palm, and she turned it over. To her bewilderment, she saw that it was 
a device of some sort, not a human heart at all, but merely a semblance of one. 
She reached for the water, but the unseen hand blocked hers. No, the voice said 
sadly, that one cannot be washed. He has given up his humanity. The mechanical 
heart was removed from her hand. 
I don't understand, Haramis thought. 
You must be able to endure truth, the voice said. 
Haramis didn't understand that either. 
Then for a time, she let her mind rest in a dreamless sleep. 
When she woke, it was near dusk. Using the Three-Winged Circle, she watched 
the preparations going on within the Citadel, the warriors taking up positions to 
defend the fortress from assault, and the comings and goings of the knights and 
officers as they reported to the King. She saw Orogastus and the Green Voice 
readying the martial devices of the Vanished Ones: two machines that summoned 
lightning; one that would screech with so overwhelming a sound that those whose 
ears were unprotected would fall deafened and bleeding; two that sprayed a hail of 

deadly pellets; one that flung great gouts of flame; and another that shot poisoned 
needles. But as Haramis watched, it seemed that a small voice whispered to her 
that these engines of death were more suited to offense than defense, and might 
actually work to the disadvantage of those who tried to use them inside the 
fortress… 
She wondered what Kadiya and Anigel planned to do. The freshly repaired 
Citadel outworks and curtainwalls could not be scaled; they were steep and 
overlooked by embrasures through which crossbowmen or the wielders of the 
sorcerer's weapons might shoot. While her sisters' talismans might shield their 
followers from the sorcerer's preternatural Sight, Haramis was certain that 
invaders would be quite visible to the normal eyes of the Labornoki defenders. 
The new gates were too massive for any ram to burst. Did her sisters think to use 
the talismans to break in? Pressing her wand to her heart, Haramis asked, Is this 
possible? And an answer formed in her mind. 
No. 
Her heart sank. I will give them what help I can, but I will not interfere, she told 
herself. Nor will I offer unwanted advice. They are following their destinies —and 
I have chosen mine. 
A great feeling of tranquillity spread over her. Sitting here beneath the tree in the 
evening mist, she had a feeling again of being rooted in the very center of the 
world, of knowing her place in the greater pattern. 
I have become what I always knew I could be. 
But will its price be the death of my sisters? 
She held the Circle upright, and asked to see them. And when the vision came she 
watched for hours, marveling. 
Most of their army, under the command of the human Ruwendians and Antar's 
loyal knights, took up a position in the swamp just across the river from her own 
position at Citadel Landing, which was a league downhill from the fortress itself. 
Since this put them almost directly opposite her, she listened carefully and looked 

across the river to see if they were perceptible to normal human senses. Satisfied 
that they were not, she returned her gaze to the Circle. 
Apart from the main body of attackers, a few hundred Uisgu and Wyvilo fighters, 
led by Kadiya and Anigel and Prince Antar, had rowed up the Mutar until they 
reached that place where the ancient water-intake tunnel had its opening. Secured 
from enemy Sight by the talismans, this group had disappeared into the cistern 
conduit. 
"By the Flower!" Haramis whispered in admiration. "If Kadiya and Anigel can 
open the Citadel gates to their army, then perhaps they do have a chance to win!" 
Later, when the Triple Moons were rising, invisible in the fog, and the feast had 
its official commencement, Haramis made her own small ceremony and ate from 
the bag of provisions Jagun had left with her. Then Haramis asked her talisman 
where reinforcements of the Labor-noki army might be. The Circle showed her a 
fleet of over a hundred flatboats hurtling down the river with all the speed the 
oarsmen could muster. Even if her sisters managed to penetrate the fortress and 
throw open the gates, they would be overwhelmed once this second group of 
heavily armed Labornoki warriors arrived. 
As the picture in the Circle faded, she wiped unshed tears from her eyes. So be it. 
Her sisters' fate would be as it would be, and she must get on with her own 
business. 
She summoned a vision of Orogastus. "I have made my choice," she told him. 
The sorcerer regarded her without expression. "Will you do me the honor of 
telling me this decision of yours face to face? I regret I cannot come to you; the 
lammergeier you commanded to carry me here performed its service and then 
disappeared." 
"Very well," she said. "I shall come, to the High Tower of the keep." 
"May I meet you in the solar there an hour from now, at midnight?" Orogastus 
requested. "You know, of course, that none of us here can possibly harm you now 
that your talisman is empowered." 

"I know," Haramis said simply. "I shall come." 
"Farewell," Orogastus said, and his handsome face softened in a smile. "Fare thee 
very well, Haramis, my beloved." His image faded from the Circle. 
Haramis began to gather up her things by the dim golden light of the trilliumamber 
inset in her talisman. The mist began to lift, and a breath of chill wind 
rustled the long leaves of the wydel-trees in the park. Among the reeds and shorebrush, 
not far away, some creature was splashing and scrabbling in the dark. 
Haramis thought nothing of this, and was ready to call her lammergeier, when the 
bushes parted and two gleaming golden eyes looked out at her. 
"Princess," a voice hissed. 
"By the Flower— Immu" 
Haramis dropped the bag in which she had packed the Crown and cloak, and ran 
to embrace the old Nyssomu nurse. 
"Immu, what are you doing here?" 
The little being scowled and showed her diminutive fangs. "Doing doing doing! It 
is a story too overlong to tell now. My brains are all in a frazzle because I have 
been hastening to rejoin my darling Princess Anigel, and since noontide today my 
Sight has refused to show her to me!" 
Haramis nodded. "It is magic engendered by her talisman, hiding her from the 
Sight of her enemies — and friends as well, it seems." 
"I came to the Knoll, and spied you sitting here in the park. I could hardly believe 
my eyes! Do you know where my Princess is? She needs me!" 
"Yes, I know where she is. But I doubt that she requires your good offices, Immu, 
for she and Kadiya are at this moment leading an army into the Citadel to 

challenge King Voltrik." 
"Lords of the Air!" Immu wailed, and her eyes popped audibly. "On such a 
venture, she will need me more than ever! Tell me how I may reach her side!" 
Haramis hesitated. "Do you have a boat?" 
"Yes, a small punt with oars." 
Haramis picked up her things. "I will have to show you." 
They embarked, and Immu rowed along quietly in the dark backwaters of the 
Mutar, following Haramis's guidance. After half an hour, they came to a narrow 
mudflat with much of its vegetation submerged by the rising flood. Inland of this 
was the Knoll slope with a high bank cut in it, and the level ground at the base of 
the bank was thickly overgrown with thorn-ferns. 
The mud was roiled and pockmarked with a great welter of footprints. 
"Here?" Immu was incredulous. "They've landed here? But it is nearly two 
leagues to the Citadel from this spot, all uphill and on open ground. And I see no 
traces of them —" 
"Immu, they have gone in through the old cistern conduit. My sisters were 
confident that they could shield their force from Orogastus's Sight at least until 
they gained the lower levels of the keep itself. From there they will attempt to 
open the Main Gate and the Victualer's Gate." 
Immu was girding up her skirts grimly. "How have they ascended the cistern 
shaft?" 
"A rope with a grapple-iron was shot up. After one Uisgu climbed it, he hauled 
many rope ladders into place for the others. The ladders are still there." 
"Scry them for me! Tell me if Princess Anigel is yet safe!" 

"No. I will only pray that the Lords of the Air will fight at their sides." 
"Very well, then," the little old nurse exclaimed. "You just pray away. But I'm 
off!" And she leaped from the boat, splashed across the trampled mud, and was 
soon lost to sight among the tall ferns. 
Haramis sighed, and moved forward to take the oars. There were Labornoki 
scouting patrols ranging here and there about the Knoll, and sooner or later they 
would discover this place of entry and give the alarm. I could bring down the 
riverbank, she thought, burying the entrance to the tunnel. 
She lifted the talisman. The three folded wings assumed an open position within 
the Circle, and the trillium amber shone at the center where they joined. "Let the 
earth liquefy and the mud flow to cover this place from hostile eyes." 
There was a low rumble. The high bank seemed to ripple in the mist, then slid to 
cover the tunnel entrance. Where the steep bank and the fern thicket had been 
there was now nothing but a long glistening muddy chute studded with small 
boulders. 
The boat rocked gently on the river. Tendrils of vapor stole about the surface of 
the water like ghostly snakes. Far away, she heard the drumming of fronialhooves. 
The Labornoki cavalry was patrolling the road to Ruwenda Market. A 
silver trumpet called faintly; another, closer by, gave brief response. 
In Haramis's mind, a voice seemed to say, The power is within you. And that is the 
great peril of it. 
She rowed away in the sluggish backwaters until she was a good distance from the 
mudslide, and then put in again to shore. Tying the bag with its valuables to her 
belt, she called: 
Hiluro! 
The gigantic bird did not appear at once, but Haramis was not perturbed. She sat 
down on a rock and gazed at the distant Citadel, which had finally emerged from 

the slowly dissolving fog. Bonfires must have been burning within the inner wards 
and courtyards, for the great keep and its adjacent wings were brightly 
illuminated. From the flagstaff on the High Tower flew the huge Labornoki 
banner, blood-red with three crossed golden swords. This was now also lit by fires 
burning at its base. It was almost as if Voltrik were saying: Here I am! Take back 
your cattle if you dare! 
"Let my sisters win!" Haramis pleaded, gripping her talisman. "Please let them 
win." 
Haramis. She heard the familiar voice of her lammergeier. I have seen a dire 
thing. 
Hiluro landed as gently as a dark cloud, and she ran to him. "What is it?" 
Climb upon my back and I will show you. 
She did, and the creature soared upward, then flew away along the margin of the 
Knoll, to where the thick Greenmire met the Mutar River beyond Ruwenda 
Market. This region was a lonely one, devoid of houses, for much of the Knoll in 
the vicinity was bare rock with only meager vegetation. 
The sky was clearing rapidly now, and the ground-fog almost entirely blown 
away. The Triple Moons were still thinly veiled, but enough light now reached the 
ground that Haramis could see below myriad dark shadows emerging from the 
Mire in several streams, then converging into a single mass as they moved in the 
direction of the Citadel nearly three leagues away. 
"But, what can they be? Surely the second force of the Labornoki army cannot 
have arrived yet — " 
They are Skritek, summoned by the sorcerer, the lammergeier said. 
"Oh, Triune God! Of course!" 
Hiluro descended, gliding just out of reach only a few ells above the ground, and 

Haramis saw the fiends of the Mazy Mire, hissing and snapping impotently as the 
great bird passed overhead. 
I cannot let them devour my sisters' comrades, Haramis thought in dismay. What 
should I do? 
A voice in her head said quietly, You are Lady of all Folk. 
But what does that mean? 
The Skritek are Folk, 
She understood then, and she knew what she must do. She said: "Hiluro, land in 
front of them." 
The bird banked steeply and flew back. He set Haramis on a mossy rock half a 
hundred ells in advance of the marching monsters and took up a position behind 
her, great wings outstretched. She put on the Archimage's cloak and waited. The 
night-keen eyes of the Skritek spotted her quickly, and they came dashing toward 
her howling and hissing, moving at such a pace that she was certain she would be 
trampled. 
Instead they halted, and fell silent, a scant stone's throw away. She lifted her 
talisman and bespoke them. 
Who leads? 
Nine or ten of the shambling, scaled brutes ventured forward. Their jaws dripped 
stinking saliva and they clenched and unclenched their talons, and she perceived 
that their slow brains were all in a state of turmoil. 
She said, Do you know who I am? 
You were dead! He said it. We knew it! 

I am always alive, here in my country. All Folk are my children, all obey me. But 
you have not obeyed. You followed the sorcerer and went to war, which is 
forbidden. 
You did not speak to us! You lost your power! He proved that when he called us 
and you did not forbid our going! 
I speak now. Do you hear? 
We do, White Lady. 
And every one of the great assemblage of Skritek fell upon the ground before her, 
penitently. 
Haramis said to the monsters, It was permitted for you to help the human invaders 
before. But now, it is no longer permitted. Do you understand? 
Yes, White Lady. The response included many a bespoken groan of 
disgruntlement, but it was nonetheless sincere. 
Before you return to the Mire, you will perform a task for me. 
We are yours to command, White Lady. 
She explained carefully what they were to do, making certain that they understood 
that there was to be no wanton cruelty. Although this was a keen disappointment 
to the fiends, they were somewhat cheered at the prospect of even a little 
amusement, and agreed to do exactly as she had requested. 
Hearing this, she gave them her blessing, mounted Hiluro, and flew away to meet 
Orogastus at the Citadel. 
King Voltrik was not a complete fool, and fairly early on had recognized the 
breach in his defenses posed by the old cistern tunnel. But the Labornoki 
engineers were afraid to meddle with it or with the well itself, because they were 

somehow connected to the main waterworks of the Citadel. So Voltrik could not 
close the opening. But for nearly two weeks the King had posted sentries about 
the mouth of the ancient cistern, and set a relay of men all the way down the long 
series of stairways leading to it, so that word might be passed upward instantly if 
any Ruwendian invader attempted to gain entry by the subterranean route. 
But the well-chamber was noisome and gloomy, infested not only with the 
disgusting slime-dawdlers but also with those winged animals of the night whose 
hooting, warbling cries were so persistent as to drive men half-crazy. And as the 
days passed with no human intruders detected (but plenty of ghostly ones seeming 
to lurk in the malodorous dark among the decrepit pumping machinery), the 
squads of Labornoki soldiers assigned to guard the cistern withdrew instead to the 
ancient dungeon one level above. 
There they used their torches to burn off the worst of the creeping things and 
incinerate the mouldering skeletons; and with the ready connivance of their watchsergeants 
brought down stools, and made a table of the old torture-bed, and 
enlivened their dreary vigils by playing cards and quaffing contraband beer. 
As fate would have it, at the moment when the grapple-iron of the first invading 
Uisgu clanked and dug in its hooks at the cistern's lip, a certain Labornoki warrior 
named Krugdal was detected cheating in the game, and his indignant comrades 
took hold of him to give him a drubbing. The soldiers' row covered the small 
noises made by the fixing of the Uisgu rope-ladders. By the time the luckless 
Krugdal was deemed sufficiently punished, nearly forty Oddlings under the 
command of Prince Antar had swarmed into the cistern chamber and up the 
narrow stairs. 
The Prince himself, attired in his full knightly panoply, entered the dungeon and 
began to berate the astounded card-players for neglecting their duties. The men 
were dumbstruck at seeing the King's son appear as if from nowhere, and knowing 
nothing of his supposed treason stood docile as he tongue-lashed them. When the 
fierce Wyvilo and Uisgu warriors poured into the room the soldiers were too 
stupefied to resist or even cry out, and so they were easily bound and gagged and 
thrown into the old dungeon cells. 
Now the two Princesses and the battle-leaders of the Uisgu and Wyvilo companies 
had a quick council-of-war. 

It would take time for the three hundred or so invaders to mount the narrow 
stairways and reach the ground level of the keep, where they might fight their way 
to the gates. From the captured sergeant it was learned that the relay of Labornoki 
strung out along the steps had a changing of the guard less than an hour hence. 
"We must mount the stairs before this time," Princess Kadiya asserted. "We shall 
have to subdue the relay of foemen one at a time, using the utmost care so that 
they do not raise the alarm. One shout, and we are undone." 
A Uisgu battle-chieftain named Prebb said: "I will take two of mine. We will go 
soft as mire-mist and use blowguns to down the foe." 
"But if you are seen by even one of them — " Prince Antar was dubious. "You 
know that the magic of the Princesses has shielded us from the wizard's farseeing 
eye. But mortal men may readily see us." 
Anigel said: "I will take the darts and subdue each guard. My talisman will surely 
render me invisible, as it did before when I was in mortal danger, so no foeman 
will have a chance to cry a warning." 
Antar was aghast, and tried to forbid her, as did all the other leaders. But she was 
as determined to go as she was positive of her ability to perform the perilous task. 
Kadiya, clad from head to toe in golden scale mail whose luster was barely 
dimmed by the mud splashed upon it, stepped forward and took her younger sister 
by the hands. 
"You are right, Ani. The mission is one you are best suited for, and no one shall 
deny you that which your courage demands. Fair fortune to you, Sister mine, and 
may no evil touch you." 
Prebb took a bandolier full of the small darts and draped it over Anigel's 
shoulders. "You stick dart and leave it in place, man die," he said. "You stick dart 
and take it out, man sleep for long time but live. But beware! Do not stick 
yourself." 

"I understand," Anigel said, her face calm beneath the gleaming coronet. 
"As you dispatch each sentry," Kadiya said, "bespeak me. We will follow after in 
a body, keeping far enough below you that no noise betrays our movements." 
"My Princess!" cried Antar, stricken. "I beseech you — " 
"No." She went to him and kissed him lightly on the lips, a caress so fleeting that 
it was barely a touch at all. But it caused the Prince's heart to blaze like a fanned 
ember, and paralyzed his body so that it was a long moment before he could voice 
his elation. 
But by then Anigel was gone, and the Oddling warriors were grinning at the 
Prince, and Kadiya suggested rather tartly that they had better see how things 
fared down in the cistern chamber. 
Anigel's only prayer and command was a whispered: "Lords of the Air, defend 
me." And then she began the long climb. 
She came upon the first guard on a landing a hundred steps above, a lantern at his 
feet and his arbalest in his hands. He was a tall and well-built young fellow, clad 
like most of the Labornoki men-at-arms in a steel-mesh hauberk and a pot-helmet, 
and armed with a short-sword and mace as well as a pouch full of quarrels for his 
bow. He was whistling softly to pass the time and making bets with himself which 
of two lingits creeping up the damp wall would reach the ceiling first. 
Anigel came soundlessly up to him and lifted a poisoned dart with trembling 
fingers. Where should she strike? He wore a heavy shirt of quilted leather beneath 
his mail, and his neck was shielded by hinged plates dangling from his helmet. 
She told herself: He will fall, and if he fall upon me or upon the dart, then I may 
not be able to remove it and he will die! Oh, I could not bear it if he should die, 
for he looks a brave and comely youth and is surely some mother's son… 
And your mortal foe, a vexed little voice seemed to whisper within her. Who 
would rape and slay you without thinking twice, could he catch sight of you. For 

even though he is not evil himself, he will follow without question the orders he 
has been given by evil men. And those who choose the warrior role must be 
prepared to endure the warrior's fate. 
Anigel felt herself cringe, and realized for the first time that she also had chosen 
the warrior's way, no matter how she had tried to convince herself that she would 
deal with the enemy without bloodshed. 
If I had to kill him in cold blood—could I? 
She took a deep breath and thrust the dart into the back of the man's hand. Pulling 
it out instantly, she dropped it and shrank away from him. He uttered a querulous 
murmur, as of surprise, and his eyes rolled into his skull and his knees folded 
slowly. The crossbow fell and clattered a ways down the slimy steps, and his helm 
clanked as he fell prone on the stones. 
But he breathed. Anigel made certain of that before bespeaking Kadiya. Then she 
hurried upward to the next sentry, her heart pounding and her body infused with a 
vigor that almost shamed her. Her fatigue and fear fell away like a discarded 
garment. The eerie passage through the muddy conduit and the vertiginous climb 
up the swaying rope-ladder were forgotten. She was back inside the Citadel, her 
home, and at war with its despoilers… 
All in all, she downed eighteen of them. And then at last she reached the brewery 
door, and listened at it for a time (not thinking to view beyond it by means of her 
Sight), and hearing nothing she slipped through — 
And came face to face with the Green Voice. 
Naturally, he did not see her. But he did see the door open, and he felt the illsmelling 
exhalation from the lower cellars. He uttered a colorful curse, and then 
chuckled and said: 
"Yes, come ahead, you bog-skipping scum, and get what is coming to you! 
Perhaps we cannot descry you, but thanks to my Almighty Master we can hear 
you coming very well —and once your vanguard reaches the top of the stairs, you 
will meet the welcome your rashness deserves!" 

The Green Voice had his hood off, and covering his ears were two objects like 
small caps with tiny things studding them, and a band running from one cap to the 
other across the top of his skull. 
But Anigel paid no attention to this magical device. What seized her attention was 
a machine that two sturdy Labornoki soldiers were manhandling into position. It 
was a heavy grey box with rounded corners and complex ornamentation on the top 
and back; and from the front protruded a long, slender cylinder of glass with many 
metal rings and rods strapped about it, and at its tip a peculiar thing made of gold. 
A thick cord of some shiny black material led from this box to another much 
larger one, which sat on a wheelbarrow behind a large stack of full grain sacks six 
or seven ells away. 
"Be careful, fool!" said the Voice to one of the soldiers, who had staggered under 
the weight of the thing and nearly caused it to fall. "This and one other are the 
only lightning generators left working, and if you damage it, my Almighty Master 
will flay the skin from your worthless body and deep-fry you in seething oil!" 
Anigel choked back a horrified gasp. The lightning of Orogastus came from 
machines? And now the Green Voice was preparing to aim this one down the 
staircase where Kadiya and their army were climbing up- 
And Prince Antar. 
Moving fedok-swift, Anigel pricked each soldier in turn. As they fell, bearing the 
weapon gently to the stones, and the used darts clinked down beside them, the 
Green Voice took alarm. Familiar with magic, he must have sensed that someone 
invisible was there. He hoisted up his robe and ran as fast as his legs could carry 
him toward the large box on the barrow. 
Anigel raced after him and flung herself upon his back. As he struggled to 
manipulate some protuberance on the large box, the Princess clutched a fresh dart 
and plunged it with all her strength into the back of his neck. 
He collapsed atop the magical contrivance, inert as one of the grain sacks in the 
improvised barricade. The strange headpiece fell from his shaven head. Slowly, 

Anigel pulled away from him. She could not take her eyes from the dart, and at 
first her hand reached out toward it, only to fall back. She seemed to hear words 
spoken long, long ago — or was it only four weeks since?—when she and Kadiya 
and Immu and Jagun looked out over a throne room splashed with blood, and she 
had demanded in her innocence an explanation of evil: 
Gentle folk may not safely respond to them gently, because evildoers do not know 
what love is, mistaking it for weakness. For this reason you, who are a gentle and 
loving Princesess, must find a sterner way of dealing with such ones… 
"And you are Orogastus's Voice," she whispered. And stood over him sadly until 
Kadiya and the others came crowding into the brewery, by which time the Green 
Voice was dead. 
Then Anigel bade the Wyvilo leader Lummomu-Ko take his massive axe and hack 
the lightning-machine into pieces. When this was done, the little army made its 
way up to the ground level of the Citadel, and the real battle began. 
In times of peace the giant flatboats serving the traders were manned by crews of 
free Ruwendian oarsmen who prided themselves on their strength and skill, and 
earned high wages for speeding their awkward craft up and down the rivers. But 
with the conquest, most experienced rivermen eloped into the Mazy Mire; and the 
Labornoki, faced with the imminent loss of crucial transport, speedily enslaved 
those who remained and pressed into service other inexperienced Ruwendians to 
fill the empty benches. They were chained to their oars, fed poorly, and whipped 
if they seemed to shirk. But even at the best of times, the slave-crews were far 
inferior to those of free men, as both General Hamil and Lord Osorkon had 
discovered on their ill-fated expedition up the Mutar. 
Now, when Osorkon desired to return to the Citadel quickly (knowing from 
conversations with the late Red Voice that some serious mischief was scheduled 
for the Feast of the Three Moons), the great fleet of boats seemed to move along 
barely faster than the current. Scandalous numbers of oarsmen had died under the 
lash since they had left the big encampment just below the Thorny Hell, and the 
rest were so mortally exhausted that no amount of flogging would speed their 
stroke. 

Osorkon called for the flagship's skipper to join him in the bows and demanded 
some remedy; but Pellan only said, cringing: "My General, the rowers are done in 
and collapsing, and nothing can make us go any faster —unless you wish to 
follow my earlier suggestion and replace the slaves with soldiers." 
"Damn your soul, Pellan, we will lose even more time if we stop and unchain the 
oarsmen so that my men can take their places! And even then, they will make a 
botch of it. They know nothing of rowing." 
"What can I say?" The scrawny riverman did not look up. "The flood gives us a 
fair pace. There is naught we can do but ride it." 
Osorkon ground his teeth but kept silent. He was a less impetuous man than the 
late Hamil, whose command he had assumed, and he knew that Pellan told the 
truth. The flotilla would reach the Citadel eventually even if all the oars were 
stilled. He cast an eye heavenward, toward the bright fuzzy smear that indicated 
the position of the cloud-veiled Three Moons. It was near to midnight, and the 
feast had begun at sundown. Who knew what dark magic the Witch-Princess 
Kadiya and her Uisgu mob might be getting up to? 
Turning his back on the riverman, the officer strode up to the forward rail and 
stood there with his hands clasped behind his back. He was cloaked and warmly 
dressed against the chill and damp, but had not donned his armor. "What is yon 
ruddy glow in the sky, Riverman? Can it be that we are approaching the Knoll at 
long last?" 
"Yes, my General. The docks of Ruwenda Market are a league away. But you 
ordered us to proceed to the Citadel Landing itself, and that is a full three leagues 
farther by water —" 
"Yes, yes, I know. How long before we arrive?" 
"Less than an hour." Pellan had taken up a brass spyglass and now peered through 
it at the black river ahead. "Strange, the surface is greatly roiled up there. One 
would think the giant milingal-fish were spawning, but it is the wrong time of 
year." 

Osorkon was immediately alert. "Is it enemy watercraft?" 
"Nay, nothing of the sort. There is enough skylight for me to be sure of that… 
And now the same ferment is afflicting the waters abeam — Holy Flower! Get 
back!" 
A series of tremendous splashes, mingled with hair-raising roars, split the night's 
calmness. Osorkon saw rising up above the boat's gunwale a huge head with 
shining orange eyes and a grinning mouth that seemed half an ell wide, studded 
with teeth like white knives. A stomach-churning stench smote him like a physical 
blow. 
"Skritek!" Pellan shrieked at the top of his lungs. But it was the last word he ever 
uttered. The monster climbed nimbly over the low rail, took the riverman in his 
talons, and snapped off his head with a single bite of his jaws. 
Osorkon was beside himself with fear and rage, seeing what his putative ally had 
just done. What was worse, all up and down the length of the big flotilla throngs 
of the fiends were boarding boats, and the screams of terrified troops now mingled 
with inhuman roars and whoops. 
"Stop!" Osorkon cried. "Hold off, you misbegotten cornholders! We are 
Labornoki! Your allies! Your friends!" 
The Skritek who had decapitated Pellan seemed momentarily flummoxed, as 
though he had just recalled something important that had slipped his mind. He 
howled out a phrase in his own language, to which his compatriots responded with 
disappointed groans and hoots. Then he dropped Pellan's gore-spouting body, 
seized Lord Osorkon with particular care, and flung him over the side. 
The officer surfaced soon enough, coughing and gagging, only to be nearly 
brained by an oar trailing limply in the water. He took hold of it and clung for dear 
life, and watched dumfounded as the monsters tossed each and every Labornoki 
into the muddy, swift-flowing water. The chained Ruwendian oarsmen they let be. 
A few other Skritek ventured to nibble on their victims, but these were hissed and 
roared at by their fellows until they desisted. 

When all of the five thousand troops were flung overboard, a very tall Skritek 
wearing a collar and belt studded with gold and gemstones ripped down the 
banner of Labornok from its staff at the bow of the flagship and befouled it. All of 
the other monsters howled with laughter, then jumped merrily into the river and 
swam away toward the Green-mire shore. 
When they were far distant, Osorkon called out: "Ho! Do any knights or soldiers 
of great Labornok yet live?" 
A few score voices responded — some fearful, others obscene. 
"Climb back into the boats, my lads!" Osorkon cried. But as he spoke the 
Ruwendian rowers began to shout among themselves, finally realizing what had 
happened. The great sweeps dug into the water with alacrity and the boats began 
to draw away from the floating Labornoki. 
Cursing and choking, Osorkon clung like a water-vart to his oar, weighting it 
down, and after a moment it dangled limp again from the rowlock. Eventually, he 
was able to make his way to the vessel's side and climb back aboard, together with 
a dozen or so others. Arming themselves, they regained control. Three other boats 
of the one hundred and twenty that had left the Trevista garrison were retaken, 
while the others vanished into the night. These four craft, carrying such warriors 
as could be rescued, pulled into the main wharf of Ruwenda Market, where they 
were greeted by the Labornoki dockmaster and the captain of the guard. 
"Fronials!" Lord Osorkon raged. "Fronials to carry us to the Citadel, or you are 
dead men!" 
Mounts were speedily procured, and Osorkon led his force off at a headlong 
gallop along the Market Road toward the Citadel. Of his original five thousand 
men, seventy-two remained. 
Chapter Forty-Five 
Hiluro flew to the Citadel's High Tower and alighted there. Dismounting and 
embracing the great head of the bird, Haramis said: "I do not know if we will meet 
again, but take my blessing with you as you fly away. You have been a true and 

loving friend." 
The bird inclined its beak almost to the stones. I am ever at your service, White 
Lady. Then he soared off into the sky, where ragged clouds now raced and a high 
overcast once again veiled the Triple Moons. 
Haramis lifted the trapdoor, noting that it had been repaired since her departure, 
and descended the ladder. There were only a few guards on the tower levels where 
the treasures were kept, but they seemed not to notice as she went past. More 
soldiers patrolled the corridor leading to the mid-levels of the central keep, and 
she also came upon a group of five Labornoki knights, staring moodily out a 
window that overlooked the river; but none of these men seemed to see her. 
It is as though I were a ghost, haunting my former home, she thought to herself. 
Has Orogastus commanded them all to ignore me, or does my talisman shield me 
from sight? 
Am I to be only a spectator in this conflict, standing aloof as the White Lady 
always seemed to do? What is my part in the fulfillment of the prophecy? 
Finally, she reached the solar. The room had been prepared for her. A fire burned, 
and the sconces had candles lit, and there was a flagon of wine and crystal goblets 
on a small table next to the open balcony windows. 
She went to look outside, and her heart sank at the scene that met her eyes. 
Ranged about the great forecourt of the inner ward were thousands of warriors — 
men-at-arms waiting in orderly ranks, knights prowling among them inspecting 
weaponry or simply standing around the great bonfires that had been lighted. Near 
the Main Gatehouse, stout barricades had been erected; and perched upon the 
central one was a strange machine tended by black-coated minions who served the 
sorcerer. On massive high platforms, flanking the entrance to the keep itself, were 
four other machines and their operators. Along the battlements of the inner and 
outer wards and the barbican were lines of crossbowmen, and catapult crews were 
ready with missiles and engines at the bastions. The Citadel Gate that opened to 
the road outside was now completely blocked by a great pile of rubble that 
clogged its Gatehouse to the rafters. 

"Hopeless," Haramis whispered. "Hopeless." And she turned away, just as 
Orogastus entered the room. 
He was clad in his silver-and-black vestments and a starry silver headpiece; but 
this mask was different from that which he had worn to worship the Dark Powers, 
for it enclosed his entire head and hid his face completely. Even the eyeholes were 
glazed over with black glass, and his aspect was so menacing that she gasped 
aloud. 
The two of them stood unmoving, regarding one another. From some deep and 
distant part of the keep, a small sound arose that Haramis could not identify. 
Orogastus unfastened his headpiece and took it off, setting it and his silver 
gauntlets on one of the benches next to the fire. 
"You have made your choice," he said slowly, "and you have not chosen me." 
No. 
"I chose my path long ago," he said. "And I cannot now turn away." 
"I know." 
From a pocket in his robe he took a small wooden box incised with grim carvings, 
which he opened, revealing a green ball. Haramis stared at this, uncomprehending. 
She was dimly aware that the noises that had begun shortly before were now 
increasing in volume. They were the shouts and tumult of fighting going on 
somewhere in the lower levels of the Citadel. 
"This is called the Doomful Effluvium." Orogastus put the thing away, his 
expression now unsmiling and implacable. "If I fling it down from on high every 
soul within the inner and outer wards, and even beyond, will die in unspeakable 
torment. Call upon Kadiya and Anigel to surrender their lives and their talismans 
to you. To us!" 
He seized her and kissed her with a strength that neared ferocity. Then he 

snatched up his gauntlets and star-mask and went out, slamming the door. 
"No," Haramis whispered. "No!" She wasted no more time, but took out her 
talisman to view Kadiya and Anigel and their invading force. The Circle did not 
this time grow pearly; instead it glowed and seemed to expand and engulf her 
within it — and she seemed to hover high above the kitchen of the keep, where a 
mob of tall and hideous Wyvilo, urged on by Prince Antar, pressed into a faltering 
force of Labornoki warriors and knights. Hewing about with long-hafted axes and 
inflicting a fearful carnage, the forest Folk demoralized their opponents as well as 
destroyed them. And as the foemen fell or retreated and the Wyvilo cleared the 
way, tiny scale-armored Uisgu with crimson-ringed eyes aglow poured forth from 
the inner corridors like a tide of molten gold, screeching and flinging spears as 
soon as they had room enough to maneuver. 
The invaders passed quickly from the demolished kitchens into the bakery and the 
scullery, and from there began to swarm into the open area of the inner ward, 
where the main body of defenders awaited them, yelling and brandishing their 
weapons. 
At first, Haramis could not find her sisters. But finally she saw Kadiya, a goldmailed 
figure slightly taller than the Uisgu, urging the small warriors on and 
holding her talisman on high. And then she made out Anigel, clad in blue leather, 
who seemed to shimmer in the uncertain light, and who stayed close to the azurearmored 
Prince Antar. Whenever an enemy came at Antar from behind, Anigel 
pounced upon the man and attacked him with some small weapon, whereupon the 
luckless Labornoki would drop instantly in his tracks. 
Why, Anigel is invisible! Haramis realized. That is why she can attack those brutes 
with impunity. Kadiya must also be screened by her talisman. And they actually 
seem to be winning! 
It was true. But once the invaders emerged from the kitchen chambers into the 
open ward, the advantage quickly swung the other way. The small force of the 
fighting Princesses was outnumbered by more than fifteen to one, and the 
sorcerer's lackeys were at that moment wrestling with their infernal devices, 
swinging them about so that they could bear upon the area in front of the scullery 
door. 

Haramis snapped out of her trance and ran to the balcony, where she could look 
below and see the conflict with her own eyes. She bespoke her sisters urgently 
through her talisman: 
Kadiya! The Lightning-machine is on the barricade nearest the Main Gatehouse! 
Break it! Or better yet, use it to blast through the gates, through the mound of 
rubble that the Labornoki have used to block the outer entrance to the Citadel! 
Kadiya made no reply; but Haramis saw a single gold-clad figure come dashing 
out from among the mob of Uisgu, and go snaking through the yelling mass of 
knights with the bonfires gleaming on her fish-scale armor. 
Anigel! Near the keep's main door are wooden platforms — 
But before she could finish, the sorcerer's lackeys began to use their deadly 
weapons. Golden-white balls of fire flew from two of the machines into the throng 
of invaders, and where they struck, they clung to skin or armor and inflicted 
horrible burns. From two other devices, which made a fearful racket, poured a hail 
of metal pellets trailing red sparks. These penetrated flesh and bone as easily as 
skewers pierce mushrooms, and those struck by the terrible things fell mortally 
wounded, if they were not killed on the spot. 
I see the weapons, Haramis! I am on my way! 
Anigel! Haramis bit her lip nervously. Be careful! Even though they cannot see 
you — 
But at that moment Haramis staggered and was half blinded as the lightningflinger 
let loose a tremendous bolt. The thundering blast caused even the keep to 
tremble, and the wine decanter and crystal goblets on the table behind her fell to 
the floor and smashed. 
When her vision cleared, she lifted her talisman for a view through the darkness 
and the cloud of smoke and dust. She was amazed to see that almost the entire 
great Gatehouse had been blasted to bits. What was more, the path of destruction 
had continued in a straight line, demolishing the gate of the outer ward and that of 

the barbican. The mound of rubble at the main entrance of the Citadel was larger 
than ever… but the massive piers that had supported the gates and a four-ell 
section of the wall on either side were crumbling to fragments as she watched. 
And Kadiya— 
"God have mercy!" Haramis cried. 
Atop the barricade, the lightning device was a blackened and twisted ruin. Near to 
it were three smoldering corpses that had once been the sorcerer's henchmen, and 
a single small figure clad all in gold, lying unmoving among them, a pointless 
sword still gripped in one hand. Kadiya must have destroyed the device with her 
talisman, Haramis thought, but I did not realize she could be hurt doing it! I must 
warn Anigel… 
The fool! The speech without words ringing in her mind, Haramis realized, could 
only be coming from Orogastus. She has used the entire capacity of the device in 
a single stroke! The defenses are down and the enemy is on its way across the 
river! 
Haramis saw him below her. He stood on a small parapet just above the keep's 
entrance, the silver starburst of his headpiece flashing as the smoke cleared and 
the dozens of small fires set by the thunderbolt brightened in the rising wind. His 
voice, magnified by some magic, called out like a trumpet to the stunned 
Labornoki warriors, who had no notion of what was happening. 
"Stand fast! Men of Labornok, stand fast!" 
From behind the sorcerer now stepped King Voltrik, in his gorgeous golden armor 
with its awesome fanged helm, his long-sword held high. At the sight of him, the 
troops below uttered a great cheer, and the fighting between them and the 
invading Wyvilo and UJsgu, which had broken off abruptly when the great 
explosion occurred, now began again. 
But suddenly Prince Antar called out, loudly enough to raise echoes in the ward. 

"Men of Labornok, do not listen to that demon! I am Antar, your Prince! And I 
say that Orogastus has bewitched my father and turned him into a brainless 
puppet!" 
A growl arose from a thousand throats. 
"Be silent, traitor!" roared Orogastus. 
But other voices were shouting: "He's right! The Prince is right! Look how the 
King just stands there!" And one cried: "Why isn't the King out here, leading us 
himself?" And another: "Stand forth, Voltrik! Speak to us!" There were more and 
more shouts, until Orogastus lifted both his hands, and his eyes flared like twin 
stars. 
Silence fell. 
King Voltrik knew he would have to speak. But what could he say? His courage 
was a thing in rags, his great ambitions fled like silly dreams. Reality was the 
Ruwendian army breaking into the Citadel in spite of all the magic Orogastus 
pitted against it. Reality was the voices of his own men wavering in their loyalty. 
Reality was his despised son Antar defying him openly. Reality, above all, was the 
failure of Orogastus to destroy the three Princess-Witches, one of whom was fated 
to destroy him… 
"Soldiers of Labornok, fight on! Fight, I say!" But the King's voice was more a 
croak than a clarion command. "It is my wretched son who is bewitched. Strike 
down the turncoat!" 
This utterance of his, far from encouraging the knights and men, caused them to 
clamor louder than before. And Prince Antar yelled: "To me, sons of Labornok! 
Down with the sorcerer! To me, I say!" 
The fighting began again in earnest then; and in spite of Orogastus's booming 
admonitions, numbers of the Labornoki tore off their scarlet surcoats and rallied to 
the side of the Prince and his decimated force. 

In the confusion, hardly anyone — and certainly not the furious Orogastus— 
noticed that those black-clad men who operated the terrible flame-machines and 
the pellet-spewing machines had slumped down senseless atop their tall platforms. 
Only Haramis, open-mouthed at her little sister's temerity, saw Anigel fling the 
last dart and begin to wrestle the heavy machines to the edge of the near platform 
and topple them to the flagstones five ells below, where they smashed into pieces. 
When Orogastus realized what was happening, he roared for soldiers to climb the 
second platform quickly, and defend the abandoned machines there with their 
lives. But the men now saw that the sorcerer's henchmen up above had been felled 
by some magic, and the selfsame magic was obviously still at work, for invisible 
beings were throwing things down upon them. So no one would move, and Anigel 
continued from the first platform to the second and finished destroying the 
weapons that the sorcerer had usurped from the Vanished Ones. 
Well done! Haramis congratulated her sister. But now we must help Kadiya. 
Anigel was jubilant. Was it not marvelous, the way she flung the thunderbolt? My 
talisman showed me a vision of our army coming ashore at Citadel Landing even 
now—and they will have easy entry through the broken wall! 
Anigel, Kadiya´s been hurt. Go to her. I am on my way down to help. 
Haramis caught up the Crown of Ruwenda and the cloak of the Archimage, and 
hurried down to aid her sisters. 
"There! There, my Liege —can you not see her?" 
Orogastus pointed through the lurid murk to the barricade before the ruined 
Gatehouse. King Voltrik strained his eyes, and finally said: "Yes. Wearing some 
kind of golden armor, is she?" 
"Exactly! And knocked senseless by the demolition of my lightning-machine, so 
that she cannot command the talisman. Princess Kadiya is no longer invisible and 
no longer protected! She is in your power! All you need do is hasten there and put 
an end to her before she recovers — or is rescued by her people." 

"I?" The King faltered. "Go down there?" 
"Are you afraid of an unconscious girl?" The sorcerer's voice became silken, 
persuasive. "There are no foemen anywhere near her, my King, only your own 
troops, who would be afraid to touch her. But you can make an end of her! Your 
greatest enemy! Kadiya is the martial Princess, the woman of the prophecy. She 
slew General Hamil and routed half our army, and instigated this battle. But she 
has not won! We still have nearly five thousand seasoned troops to counter the 
approaching rabble, and their female general lies there awaiting your sword!" 
"That's true." Voltrik drew himself up. "Much good her magic will do her now!" 
"Go, my Liege. Kill her, then order your men to advance upon the Citadel 
barbican. Cut down the invaders as they attempt to scramble over the ruins." 
"The witch shall die!" Voltrik bellowed. "And as I hold up her severed head, you 
shall announce my deed with your voice of thunder!" 
Orogastus stepped to the parapet edge and cried out: "Men of Labornok! Your 
King comes now to lead you to victory! To the barbican with you! Prepare for the 
final encounter with the foe!" 
There were scattered cheers. 
"You know, we really do seem to have gained the upper hand down there." The 
King grinned at the sorcerer. "Most of those scoundrels who came up through the 
dungeons seem to have fallen." 
"Your traitorous son Antar is gathering partisans while you stand here, my King. 
Go down! Kill Kadiya first, then rally the men." 
"To victory!" Voltrik roared. He snapped shut the fanged visor of his terrible 
golden helm. 
"Go," said Orogastus wearily. "Go." 

When the monarch finally tramped off down the stairway, the sorcerer gave a 
great sigh. Removing one gauntlet, he reached into an inner pocket of his robe and 
touched the wooden box containing the deadly globe, at the same tinue forming an 
unspoken prayer to the Dark Powers. 
Would Voltrik be able to kill Kadiya? Or would her talisman deal with the King 
as it had witlh Hamil and the Red Voice? The chance was worth taking. If Voltrik. 
managed to succeed, then it might not be necessary after all to wipe tte slate 
clean… 
Orogastus stood and surveyed the advancing enemy force—which had just been 
augmented by the heavily armed Ruwendian brigades of Count Palundo. And then 
lie searched the darkness of the Citadel's inner ward, seeking whatever clues there 
might be to the whereabouts of the other two Princesses. 
He saw neither Anigel nor Haramis, but only a little old Oddling woman, picking 
her way through the tumult and the butchery as if searching for someone. 
Chapter Forty-Six 
Immu stumbled through the battle scene, coughing from the smoke, tripping over 
the dead bodies of friends and foes, dodging around the melees and hand-to-hand 
combat that made of the inner ward a hell of blood and iron. 
"Anigel!" she called. "Princess, where are you?" 
But when she questioned wounded Wyvilo or Uisgu about her royal mistress, 
none of those who had strength to reply knew, for they did not know that Princess 
Anigel fought among them invisible. 
Immu saw King Voltrik emerge from the keep and call to himself a body of 
knights, after which he headed almost straight toward her. 
The fighting seemed suddenly to fall into a lull. Following the orders of Orogastus 
and their commanders, most of the Labornoki were now streaming toward the 
ruined barbican and the Citadel Gate, regrouping to repel the advance of the main 

invading force now rushing up from the river. 
But the King, it seemed, had another objective in mind. 
"The witch!" Voltrik was shouting. "With me, men! I must kill the witch!" 
He had beside him Lord Osorkon, who had arrived just in time for the battle, and 
Sir Rinutar, who had come to the Citadel the night before with news of the 
invaders, and two other knights named Lo-tharon and Simbalik. 
The King and these four pushed through the moving crowd of defenders, thrust up 
their visors to see better in the smoky chaos, and began to clamber awkwardly up 
the barricade to where Princess Kadiya still lay senseless. 
Immu saw her, too. And with all the agility her old bones could muster, she 
climbed painfully up the opposite end of the smoking structure and ran panting 
along its top toward the place where the golden-armored form lay. 
Invisible hands were easing off the scale-mail hood from Kadiya's head. And 
Immu clearly heard a tremulous voice call out: "Kadi! Please wake up, Kadi!" 
The Nyssomu woman cried out: "Anigel! Are you there, my darling? " 
The golden-haired Princess appeared abruptly as she removed her coronet. 
"Immu! Come quickly! Kadi breathes, but I fear she is wounded." 
"Two of them!" came a harsh shout. "Great Zoto, both witches are here!" 
King Voltrik and his four knights gained the barricade crest at that instant. 
Knocking Immu flat, the monarch seized Princess Anigel by the hair, dragging her 
from her sister's side, and raised his sword to her throat. Her coronet talisman 
spun from her hand, landing on the charred planks with a dull chiming sound. 
Immediately the glow of its trillium amber winked out. 
Simbalik and Lotharon hauled Kadiya upright. The swordlike object fell from her 

flaccid fingers, and its amber also went dull. But her eyes opened slowly, and met 
those of her sister. 
"Men of Labornok!" King Voltrik shouted, in a transport of exaltation. "Behold! 
Two of the witches who threatened the throne of our great country are in my 
hands!" 
A great roar arose from the throng of soldiers, and from the parapet above the 
keep entrance Orogastus's voice boomed. "Hail, Voltrik! Hail, all-conquering 
King! Show us the reward of those who would oppose your rule!" 
During this commotion, Immu had been creeping toward Anigel's fallen coronet. 
Now she pounced on it like a lothok and tossed it into Anigel's waiting hand a 
scant moment before anyone saw her. Two men seized the old nurse and prepared 
to fling her headlong from the high barricade. 
Anigel, still with Voltrik's sword at her throat, cried out loudly: "Harm her, and 
you are dead men." 
The trillium amber in the coronet blazed like a pitch-brand, and the men holding 
Immu froze. King Voltrik said frantically: "The other magic talisman! That Dark 
Sword there! Seize it!" 
"Wait!" Osorkon shrieked, for he recognized the object and the danger in it. 
But Rinutar had already loosed his hold on Immu and bent to pick up Kadiya's 
talisman. As he did so, Kadiya's hand stretched out and touched the hilt an instant 
before the knight did. The Three-Lobed Burning Eye opened wide and its beams 
shone full on Rinutar's face. 
His armor turned incandescent. He had not time to cry out or even straighten 
before the flesh burnt from his skull, which glowed bright as steel in a forge. As 
Voltrik and his men cried out in fear and horror, the burning knight lurched and 
rolled to the lip of the barricade, and fell to the ward pavement like a human 
meteor. 

Now there was pandemonium among those watching. But Voltrik, to do him 
credit, had not moved his sword a ringer's breadth from Anigel's throat, even 
though cold sweat stung his eyes, and his heart thudded fit to burst. 
Anigel turned her head to look up at him. "Release us. You are defeated. 
Surrender and throw yourself upon our mercy." 
Voltrik howled with hysterical laughter. "Nay, Witch! First your sister shall die, 
and then you!" 
"My King!" Lord Osorkon pointed down, his face distorted with terror. "The Dark 
Sword — it moved!" 
Gaping, Voltrik and his companions watched the Three-Lobed Burning Eye rise 
slowly from Kadiya's hand, hovering at waist level. Princess Anigel seemed 
unperturbed by the sight. She opened her own hand, and the coronet floated away 
to meet the pointless end of the other talisman. 
"NO!" 
The thundering cry of despair came from Orogastus, on the parapet above. But it 
was too late. 
Princess Haramis became visible, standing between her two pinioned sisters. The 
Crown of Ruwenda on her head sparkled in the firelight and the cloak of the 
Archimage billowed about her. Taking her own talisman, she slipped the wand 
into a channel in the sword-blade, so that the Three-Winged Circle formed a 
meridian and equator with the Three-Headed Monster. Within this space the wings 
opened; and a great Black Trillium in amber was at the center. 
Orogastus lifted high something that gleamed green. Then he flung it with all his 
strength toward the courtyard stones. 
Haramis pointed the Sceptre of Power — and the flying globe of the Doomful 
Effluvium flared and vanished in a puff of white smoke. 

Now she turned to the two knights holding Kadiya. The girl's dark eyes were alert 
and her muscles tensed for a struggle. 
"Release her!" Haramis commanded. But the men hesitated. 
"Let her go, fools!" Osorkon cried. 
"No!" King Voltrik screamed. "I forbid it!" 
Seeing the two knights stiffen and stand firm, Haramis moved deliberately, but 
with reluctance, pointing first at Lotharon, then at Sim-balik, with the Sceptre. 
This time the armor did not flame. But within each visor blue-white radiances 
bloomed for a split second; and when it flared out, each helm was empty, as was 
the rest of the armor. Two suits of steel clattered in pieces to the planks. 
King Voltrik gave a throat-searing shriek and dropped both Anigel and his sword. 
He fell to his knees. "Mercy! Lady, have mercy!" 
Haramis pointed the Sceptre at him calmly. "Receive as much mercy as you have 
ever given, and let the prophecy be fulfilled." 
Glazen-eyed, the kneeling King removed his monstrous helmet. He bowed his 
head low. As the throng watched in hushed awe, Voltrik's own sword rose up, and 
its point thrust deeply into the base of his skull. He fell, with the weapon pinning 
him to the wood beneath. 
All over the embattled Citadel, a sound arose like a low murmur of storm-tossed 
trees. On the barricade, Lord Osorkon laid his sword at Haramis's feet and knelt 
with bared head. Then there was a. clattering and clanking as, all over the great 
ward, the knights and soldiers of Labornok threw down their weapons and stood 
numb, waiting to see what would happen next. 
Haramis faced Orogastus across the wide courtyard. He had removed his starmask, 
and his white hair streamed in the rising wind. The smoke and dust were 
carried off, and those fires that still burned blazed brighter for the air fanning 

them. Over all, the sky was cleared of cloud, and the Triple Moons stood in close 
conjunction midway between the zenith and the western horizon, seeming to touch 
and form a single Orb with three lobes. 
Haramis lifted the Sceptre and pointed it at Orogastus. 
"Now let our lives and our service be judged," she said. "Have we fulfilled what 
was required of us? Have we done right? Have we acted to restore the balance? 
Judge us, and judge him, also." 
Orogastus gripped the parapet's edge in both hands, and his teeth were set as his 
eyes again shone star-like with the terrible brilliance of magic. The spectators 
uttered cries of fear. 
Prince Antar, appearing as if from nowhere, took Princess Anigel in his arms. 
Little Immu stood beside Kadiya, the pair of them steadfast. 
"Haramis!" Orogastus shouted, his voice still amplified by whatever device he 
was using. "I can destroy you yet! I can summon the Dark Powers and move the 
very earth!" 
Haramis closed her eyes, holding tight to the Sceptre; but in her mind she still 
could see his face. This isn't working, she realized. The Sceptre must need all 
three of us. "Kadiya, Anigel," she said urgently, "help me! Take hold of the 
Sceptre and concentrate!" She felt her sisters close in at her sides and their hands 
joined hers on the Sceptre. 
The power in it flared suddenly to full life. It bound them all together: Haramis, 
Kadiya, and Anigel at one end, and Orogastus at the other. It glowed with a 
brightness that blinded physical eyes, even through closed eyelids; but somehow, 
Haramis realized, she could still see. Kadiya and Anigel were at her sides, so close 
they seemed part of her, and Orogastus confronted them along the length of the 
Sceptre. And in the bright power that held them, all illusion was burned away, and 
they saw themselves and each other as they truly were. 
It was terrifying. Haramis found herself aware of all the times she had hurt people, 
even inadvertently, the times she had looked down on her sisters as lesser 

creatures, especially in contrast to the beauty and strength she saw in them now. 
She could feel the same emotions in both of them: regret for all their past failures 
and mistakes, and awe at what they saw in each other. But around and through the 
thoughts and memories flowed the sisters' love for one another. Haramis 
understood now, and she knew that her sisters did too; in a certain manner the 
three of them made one whole entity, their strengths and weaknesses 
complementing and canceling out each other's. In spite of their individual 
differences — or perhaps because of them—they were one, and they were 
Ruwenda. 
This must be what Binah meant by balance. 
Orogastus was perceptible to Haramis as well, but the feeling was totally different. 
The closeness she had felt to him when he had held her in his arms was 
completely gone; what she sensed now was his isolation — total and terrifying. 
He had no connection with Ruwenda or any other land, or with any of the Folk, 
and — in spite of what had passed between them — he had no connection with 
Haramis. 
He seemed to be locked inside himself, experiencing horrors that the Princesses 
could only dimly sense. Haramis hurt for him, even now, and she could feel 
Anigel's ready compassion extending in his direction as well; but Orogastus was 
aware of nothing outside himself. And his self seemed to be unendurable. 
Haramis pointed the Sceptre at Orogastus. "Judge us," she whispered. "Judge 
him." 
Again the Sceptre flared. 
All of them were momentarily blinded, and so many persons screamed from the 
shock that it was many long minutes before they realized that the sorcerer was 
gone. 
All that remained of him was a great black splash like soot against the keep wall 
where he had stood, and on it, high above the parapet, the white silhouette of a tall 
man's body. 

That year, for the first time, the Feast of the Three Moons was celebrated three 
days late, postponed so that the injured could be cared for and the dead receive 
their rites of honor. But on the third evening following that of the great battle, 
when the Triple Moons in their full conjunction rose above the Mazy Mire, all of 
the Folk camped round about the Knoll, and all of the Ruwendian and Labornoki 
humans as well, came together once again in the great inner ward of the ancient 
Citadel. 
The Uisgu marched in first, led by Princess Kadiya, carrying three-branched 
torches and singing their ancient festival song; then followed the gentle Nyssomu, 
headed by Jagun and Immu; and the surviving Wyvilo, marching behind 
Lummomu-Ko. Then came the Labornoki, with their new King, Antar, walking 
unarmored and carrying only flowers in their hands; and last of all the army of 
free Ruwendians, led by Count Palundo, who had with him as many knights and 
nobles as could be summoned by Folk passing the news through the Mire by 
means of the speech without words. 
Haramis, crowned and cloaked and bearing the great Sceptre, welcomed them. 
Antar came forward and knelt at her feet, to offer his nation's formal surrender. 
But Haramis said: "Rise up, King Antar, for I cannot accept your capitulation." 
She took from her head the great Crown of State and held it high. "I who was 
heiress to the throne of Ruwenda now renounce this Crown. I call upon Princess 
Kadiya, my next younger sister, to accept it — for I have been called to a different 
role, that of Archimage." 
Kadiya stood at the head of the great throng of aborigines, the trillium emblem 
glowing on the breast of her golden mail, and her auburn hair falling free over her 
shoulders. She said: 
"I also renounce the Crown, for my destiny is not to be a ruler of humans, but a 
leader and friend to the Folk, who have besought me to serve them. I call upon 
Princess Anigel, my younger sister, to accept the Crown she has so richly 
merited." 
Anigel closed her eyes briefly, seeing again that strange dream vision of herself 
running through a forest in pursuit of her Mother. And having this time caught up 

to Queen Kalanthe, she no longer felt apprehension as her Mother washed and 
dressed and prepared her. That which awaited had been truly hers from the 
beginning. 
She also knew that, of the three, she was the best suited to wear the Crown. She 
opened her eyes, walked to Haramis, and knelt with her head held high. When the 
great Crown with its emeralds and rubies and huge drop of trillium amber rested 
on her head, she rose, turned slowly about, and sketched the three-lobed sign in 
the air above those watching. 
Antar was still standing by, and now knelt to her. "Will you accept my surrender, 
Great Queen?" 
"But it is mine already," she said, smiling, "together, I hope, with your heart. And 
since I am a Queen who cannot rule without a King, I propose that we rule our 
kingdoms jointly as husband and wife, in perpetual peace." She took his hands and 
made him rise and stand beside her. 
"People of Ruwenda," said she, "I give you your King." 
And he said: "People of Labornok, I give you your Queen!" 
A great tumult of cheering and weeping broke out then, and the Folk sang their 
hymn again, and great quantities of food and drink were brought out; and the real 
celebration began. 
Standing close together, the sisters embraced. Then Haramis took the Sceptre of 
Power and solemnly separated it. The pointless sword, its Eyes now closed in 
sleep, she gave to Kadiya, who slipped it into the scabbard she wore and tied it in 
place with a lanyard. The silvery coronet with the three grotesque visages Anigel 
mounted inside the Crown of Ruwenda, which she then resettled upon her golden 
hair. The wand, with its wings folded and the trillium amber glowing only dimly, 
Haramis replaced on the chain around her neck. 
"We were One," Haramis said, "and now we are again Three. Please God that the 
world has been rebalanced, and the Sceptre of Power will never be needed again." 

"By the Flower!" Kadiya growled. "I should hope not! Peace is what we all need. 
Just think of how much we three all still have to learn! Ani, the tedious statecraft, 
Kara the magic, and I intend to go back to a certain Place of Learning and put 
some very important questions to a being who resides there. There are knotty 
problems to be solved concerning the future relations between Folk and 
humankind, and I suspect it will take some time to sort out the answers!" 
Anigel asked Haramis: "Will you call your lammergeier after the feast, Sister, and 
fly away to live in Noth as the old White Lady did?" 
Haramis looked away, and for a moment her gaze passed over the parapet above 
the entrance to the keep. "No. That place fell to dust when Binah died. I shall go 
to another place — one that I know of, high in the mountains." 
Antar came up to the three then, smiling apologetically as he told Anigel that their 
joint assemblage of subjects demanded that the mon-archs lead them in festive 
dance. 
"The terrible duties of sovereignty!" Kadiya laughed. "Go along, Queen Anigel. 
The Archimage and I will continue our weighty discussions over food and drink, 
and when Your Majesties have danced holes in your shoes, you can rejoin us." 
Hand in hand, Anigel and Antar went away; and the music began. 
Hurrying across the twilit Knoll meadow toward the Citadel, the old musician 
Uzun heard the sounds of celebration and quickened his pace. He could hardly 
believe his ears. Surely those were the songs of Triple Moons! But had not the 
festival taken place three days ago, while he and the others on his boat were 
stalled on the riverside repairing the broken hull? He had missed the great battle; 
missed the victory; missed seeing his dear Princess Haramis destroy the villain 
Orogastus — missed everything. 
Or had he? Oh, if only he weren't so incompetent at the speech without words! 
Those were certainly the festival hymns, and the sounds of merriment floating on 
the night breeze almost drowned out the calling of the swamp creatures. What a 

miracle! He would be in time after all — 
Something on the moonlit ground caught his eye. 
He stopped, and bent down for a better look. The soil was very damp yet from the 
early Rains, and all kinds of fresh growth seemed to have sprung up, virtually 
overnight. But this was something different. Something he could scarcely believe 
was real. Something magical… 
Myriad small plants were growing in this place that had once fostered only grass 
and sedge. Plants with small black tripartite flowers. 
Uzun the musician picked one of the Black Trilliums, and held it up to the 
moonlight. Yes! There was no doubt about it. The place was crowded with them. 
They were everywhere. 
Laughing giddily, he gathered as many of the flowers as he could carry, and raced 
off to tell the good news to the people at the Citadel. Thousands more of the 
trilliums remained, spreading their petals beneath the light of the Triple Moons.