The Golden Sword
                                                  Silistra, Book 2
                                                  Janet E. Morris
                                                        1977

    ISBN: 0-671-55919-2

                                     MY EYES SWAM WITH TEARS
     “Do not take my chald from me.” I faced him, my back against the laced tent flap, my hands
clenched behind me.
     “Crells do not wear chalds,” Chayin said flatly. “It lessens their beauty, their usefulness, their humility.
It slows their adjustment. Remove it.”
     I put my hands to my chald, running the strands through my fingers. I found the juncture, took the tiny
key from its housing, and fitted the key in the lock. The ends parted. I took my eighteen-strand chald in
my palms and looked at it.
     I saw the silver chain with white interwoven, that of Well Astria. I saw the six brass mixed, of my
schooling, and the Well-Keepress’ chain, of white gold set with fire gems. That one had been mine when
I was born. The others I had spent three hundred and two years acquiring. What is a Silistran without
chaldra?
     I would kill him.
     to Sydny Weinberg

Contents
       Replication
       I. Ors Yris-tera
       II. Chosen Son of Tar-Kesa
       III. Crell
       Clearing the Way
       IV. Tiaskchan
       V. The Golden Sword
       Stalking
       VI. The Ebvrasea
       VII. The Liaison First
       The Viable
       VIII. Well Astria Revisited
       IX. “I Am the Hest and the Sort”
       Postscript
       Glossary
       Silistran Calendar


Replication
    The dayglass, alone, posited upon the black square of controlling Will on the board of
catalysts.
     As events are conceived by. all-pervading Will and brought into time by the Weathers, so are
they given spatial reality by Replication.
     Replication gives instruction and molds the world in its image.
     Replication has no foes, nor can a thousand • armies stand against it. There is no obstructing
the time of Replication, when the crux wind blows across the earth and all things assume their
true nature.
     The wind of the First Weather blows across the sea and the tides are remade in their rhythm.
It blows upon the land and great forests are tumbled to the ground. In this way is the old made
new and that which has served its pur-pose cleared away. In such times it services one to delve
into one’s own fitness and make ready.
     Adjuration: The dayglass is upended and the salts begin the journey that divines time within
space. Each grain must wait its turn and pass through the narrowed middle in a predetermined
sequence. No grain may refuse to pass from top to bottom, nor is the order of passage subject to
alteration or review. Should a stubborn grain thwart its destiny it will be ground to bits by its
fellows and the resultant powder will in the end assume its place.
     With the woman as agent:
     Around the waist there is nothing. That task to be accomplished is of such gravity that a chald
of eighteen chains becomes, meaningless by comparison.
     The inward ear hears success and is not dis-couraged by the message. Replication suspends
natural law. That which is folly by reason is demanded in times of Replication.
     She receives the light of the north star Clous into her right hand and is not blinded by its
beauty. In times of Replication, when only that which is preordained may be done, a material sign
is always given at the outset.
     Adjuration: She who receives the light knows herself not exalted, but drafted into exacting
service.
     —excerpted from Ors Yris-tera (Book of the Weathers of Life), by the dharen Khys, hide-year
sixty-three

I. Ors Yris-tera
     In the bloody sun’s rising, the desert was a sea of gore, the crack-riddled, barren earth between it
and the ravening crags east and west a vitrified corpse. The fuming sun straddled the mountains,
triumphant. Vanquished was the beneficent night. All creatures great and small scuttled for cover, lest the
vampire in the sky suck them dry of life.
     A dry wind sprang up out of the desert. From the southwest it came, driving the sand before it in
great clouds. Red-dark up from the south met the dawn and devoured it. Deracou, the wind that
devours, is such a storm called in Parset. Deracou stalked the cloaked figure. The sighing, groaning sand
it drove scoured the dead sea bottom, until every crack was filled, making it, again sea; roar-ing sea, sea
of sand. Deracou claimed the waste, covered it, drowned it, and the high tide wave of it made once again
shore of the rocky place where the still form lay. I lay quiet as the desert, back turned to its courting. As
it had claimed the cracked wasted dead sea, so would Deracou claim me.
     Out of caprice, it reached out its arm to me, when I thought I had escaped. The temptation was
strong within me to sleep. To let my body be covered forever by the sand, to take the peace nature
offered. I had, after all, fulfilled the chaldra of the mother. To fulfill the chaldra of the soil, to give back
what I had borrowed, to die here upon Silistra—indeed, the temptation was strong within me.
     The Shaper’s seal sign of my father, its great spiral, myriad points of light worked into my cloak’s
back, glittered and twinkled before my sand-sealed eyes. My father; it said, did not deliver me home to
Silistra, to the Parset Desert, to die. My father, it reminded me, had need of me. My father, Estrazi, it
cajoled, would expect more from his daughter.
     I lay, arms crossed over my head, with the cloak pulled close about me. When the south wind died
away, all that could be seen of me was the scintil-lating spiral sparkling in the sand.
      The receding wind bore the darkness with it, and the light of sun’s rising was again upon the land. It
rainbowed the Shaper’s seal that was upon the cloak that my father had given his daughter.
      Sensation consumed me. My eyes and nose and mouth were filled with grit. My swollen tongue was
unable to give comfort to my cracked and blistered lips. My savaged feet throbbed and pulsed.
      Surely, I told myself, my father had good reason for depositing me here. Doubtless, .I comforted
my-self as I lay in the dark under my cloak, that reason would be made clear. My lungs burned and
ached. They had been hard put to adjust to the thinner Silistran air, although it was Silistran air I had
breathed for three hundred years, until my need to discharge the chaldra of the mother had led me to the
Falls of Santha, to the cavern be-neath them, and to Mi’ysten.
      I thought of Mi’ysten, that world out of time, of Estrazi and Raet, child of the Shapers, while my
body lay resting. I could not ask more from my tortured flesh, not now, with the heat of the day upon the
land.
      Estrazi, my father, for whom I had forsaken my position as Well-Keepress of Astria, for whom I had
searched so long; it was he who had put me here. By his design was I created, in his hands was I pawn.
On Mi’ysten had I given back to him his ring that I had worn threaded through my chald across the plain
to Arlet, amid the mountains of the Sabembe range, below the Falls of Santha. Even in the solitary
confinement of the crystal cube of Mi’ysten had I worn it, even while at the mercy of Raet had I retained
it. To give it back to him. To discharge my chaldra, my responsibility and my duty, to my dead mother,
Hadrath, had I withstood Raet and met with Estrazi upon his world, Mi’ysten.
      And when it was done, when the ring was re-moved by my hand from my chald belt of inter-woven
chains and placed in the bronze-glowing hand of my father, Estrazi, I had found myself, naked but for
cloak and chald, upon my back in the Parset desert, looking upon the constellations of the night sky of
Silistra. So many questions unanswered, he had delivered me home. I had lain a long while looking up at
the sky. That the sand under me was Parset sand I had determined from the placement of the stars above
me. Groistu, the stones-wielder, was only half-risen in the north. Wiurer, the winged hulion, held court
directly above Groistu’s head. The tip of his tufted left ear, where the north star Clous twinkled, was
barely discern-ible upon the horizon. From no other place upon Silistra would the night sky so display
herself.
      I had wept for joy, to feel Silistra again support-ing my flesh, to breathe the thinner, righter air
of—the planet of my birth. I had not thought, then, of what the desert day would bring. I had been so
long away from the cycle of day and night, and from weather, and from nature herself, I had forgotten.
But the morning sun taught me, after I had wasted the night cool in introspection. I quickly relearned ‘my
vulnerability. My Mi’ysten school-ing did me little good. I had shaped water, creat-ing a bare trickle with
my limited power, and the desert sucked it away. As it tried to suck away my life, in the three days that
followed. By the north star Clous, and the crouching crags of the southern-most tip of the Sabembe
range, did I set my course, northeast to Arlet.
      I had, I reminded myself in the dark of my tented cloak, come far in three days. I blew breath hard
out of my mouth, trying to spit the grit from my gul let.
      In a little while, I would set out again. I was safe, in the heat of the day, from dorkat, the stalk-ing
carnivore, from slitsa, the slithering fork-tongued, from friysou, the leather-winged scavenger, and from
all that scuttled and crawled upon the desert sands. In the heat of the day, the desert slept. Doubtless I
could sleep, unmolested. Truly, I had no choice. My limbs would no longer obey me, and my dreaming
mind would no longer hold a train of thought. I sank into the cool dark, where pain could not find me, nor
heat, nor hunger, nor thirst.
      I dreamed of Raet, son of the Shapers, and that he worked his will once again in the worlds of time
and space. I dreamed that he came and bound my hands behind me, and caused my chald-belt to rust
and fall from my body. I knelt where it had fallen, but it was only powder on the sand. I pro-tested to
him, and he replied to me that I could not be allowed to interfere. And my father was beside him,
nodding, the bronze glow from his skin grow-ing brighter and brighter, until I buried my head in the sand
to shield my eyes from the glare. And I was lifted up from the ground; Raet’s arms were so hot they
seared my skin. But that was wrong. Mi’ysten flesh is always cool. I struggled, crying out.
     It is more than a jeweled cloak Deracou has blown you, Cahndor.” The voice belonged to the face
that swam blurred before me. It was a Parset face, dusky brown, severe; the whites of the eyes staring
into mine were softened by the Parset nicti-tating membrane. The language was Parset, and my sluggish
mind took long to make sense of it. The sun’s set shadowed the forms before me. Dreamecho chased
their words into my ears.
     I would have raised my hands to wipe the sand and sleep from my eyes. I could not Move them. But
I knew I no longer dreamed, for my body’s. complaints were loud within me, the pain a rip-pling film
between me and the shadowed forms bending down in the fading light.
     I opened my mouth to speak, to explain, but no sound could I coax from my parched throat.
     And then I smelled it. My nostrils drank first, of the particles the air carried to me. I will never forget
the strength of that odor, the coolness, the life my nose and throat received from the very air. Water. It
was on my lips and in my mouth and spreading through my dust-covered innards. The feel of it as it
dribbled upon my chin will stay with me as long as I live. My throat knew no longer how to swallow, my
tongue, had forgotten its task.
     The faces in front of me sharpened, took focus. I tried with my eyes to thank them. I managed a
wordless sound. I felt again the bladder’s rim against my lips, the ecstasy of the liquid in my mouth. There
was an arm under my head, hands at my throat. The cloak fell away.
     “Quiet, little crell, do not waste your strength.” The voice came from above and behind me. I was
held, high in the air. Strong arms supported me, as if I weighed nothing. My abraded flesh felt tight-curled
hairs, moist and warm, where he held me to him. I remembered. Cahndor, one had called another. “Will
of the sand” does that word mean. And crell, one had called me. I tried to protest. I was Estri Hadrath
diet Estrazi, former Well-Keepress of Astria, surely no crell. Crell is a Parset word, for nowhere else
upon Silistra does such a status exist. A crell is other than chaldless, other than human; that beast of
burden which walks upon two legs rather than four. But my protest came out a moan, and I sank back
exhausted, my head against the dark chest of the man that held me, my gaze lost in the forest of curling
black hair upon it. Tiny beads of sweat meandered among the hairs, split in two by the root shafts, and in
’two again.
     “Will she live,, Hael? What think you?” came the voice from above and behind.
     A face loomed close to mine; breath tickled my cheek. It was a bearded face,, and that beard was
curled and dressed and beaded and gray, with dust.
     “Would you raise apprei here, and rest the night and day with her? If so, I could be sure of it.
Without shelter and attention, I cannot say.”
     “I would not lose the time,” the deeper voice of he who held me came again.
     “Then, Cahndor, I think her chances slim.” The bearded face receded from my sight. A hand touched
my face, my brow, raised the lids of my eyes. There was a roaring in my ears, a great pulsing beat in my
head. It seemed unimportant what they said, what they did. Only sleep mattered to me, sleep and escape
from my body.
     There was silence, then, and I felt the stride of he . who held me, he whom the other had called
Cahndor. I tried to open my eyes to see, but my lids were weighty beyond my strength.
     I smelled the threx before I saw it; the warm-damp musty smell that belongs to the great four-legged
omnivore who is the preferred riding beast of Silistra ..
     I coaxed my lids open once more, as I was shifted from one pair of arms to another. Before me I
saw, in the fading light, the carved and tooled Parset saddle,, with rolls of bright-colored web-cloth .
strapped around it. The short-coupled back upon which the saddle rested was sand and shadow, dark at
the withers, dappling light ‘toward the barrel. The threx’s broad chest, parallel to my face where I was
held well off the ground, gave me the impression of immense size. Then my sight of it was obscured by a
muscular, dusk-dark back, upon which my father’s cloak, with the Mi’ysten Shaper’s seal, had been
carelessly draped. He who wore the cloak swung up in the saddle, and held out his arms from the back
of the dancing threx toward me. I was placed in those arms and lifted up onto the threx’s back, laid
across the saddle before the great beast’s rider, so that the grip dug into my right hip, and my hair,
flowing loose, almost dragged the ground by the threx’s tripart hooves.
      The blood rushed to my head, and the red-grained pulsing swallowed my sight.
      I felt a callused hand upon the small of my back, large, rough. Then the threx leaped into motion
under me, the air was driven from my lungs, and I was glad of the steadying hand. Sand and grit thrown
up by its hooves filled my nose and mouth and eyes, pelted my skin. The ground beneath my head rushed
by under me, blurred into a dark band. No longer could I see the cracked earth, the jumbled rock, the
coarse jeweled sand.
      Endlessly did the threx plunge across the barren dead sea floor, endlessly did I suffer the shower of
clodded earth its hooves kicked up. When dark was full upon us, when I thought I could not fight for one
more breath, the Parset slid the choppy-gaited beast to a halt so abruptly that in its rear-ing one of those
rock-hard hooves grazed my temple.
      He who wore the Shaper’s cloak vaulted from the threx’s back. His grip upon me removed, I felt
myself sliding. In mid-fall he caught me and laid me upon the crusty, abrasive earth. I heard the blowing
of the winded threx, the creak and jingle of harness, the rustle of bodies about their busi-ness in the dark.
Then the bladder was again at my lips. A horny hand brushed clod-caked hair from my face. Water
washed new strength into me. I choked and sputtered. The bladder was withdrawn. A damp cloth
caressed my mouth, my eyes, my temples. I winced when it touched the cut I had sustained by the
threx’s hoof. Then it too was withdrawn, and I was once again alone. The night breeze had the chill of the
abyss about, it, and I did not welcome that coolness. I looked up into the starry night, using the north star
Clous as focus. When it ceased to dance and circle above me, when my eyes once again obeyed my
mind’s commands, I turned my attention to my body.
      With all my strength I tried to move my arms, that I might sit up. I could not do so. As my awareness
sharpened, my flesh gave forth its message. My wrists felt their bonds, my waist its encircling loop. My
hands were confined by a rope, and that rope passed once around my belly. I did not remember it being
done. Perhaps I had.been so bound to keep me from falling from the threx’s back as it plunged its way
through the barrens. I thought not. But it certainly had not been done to prevent me from escaping or
doing harm to my captors. With the realization that this was so, that I was captive, rather than rescued,
my mind was suddenly clear, my thoughts coherent. As I lay there upon the rocky ground, I considered
all that I knew about the Parsets, while around me the moon rose full and red-ringed and the wind sorted
the sand, sighing, and the men’s gruff, rapid ex-changes rang unintelligibly in my ears.
      I recalled that which had been taught to me in the Day-Keeperi’ school. I had learned there, among
many others, the Parset language. And I recol-lected also what I had, heard from the wellwomen, the
Slayers, and the Day-Keepers themselves about the flamboyant, tattooed desert dwellers.
      I had heard it said that the men of the Parset barrens were the most insular, prideful, arrogant men
upon Silistra, and their women the mostindo-lent and imperious. Long ago, when the remnants of Silistran
civilization emerged from the hides to rebuild a decimated planet, the Parsets took an-other path. Their
Day-Keepers and forereaders split from their brothers and sisters. History has it that the aniet hide
Day-Keepers had engaged in genetic manipulation; that the Day-Keepers of the rest of Silistra had found
them out. Whatever the reason, there was from hide days little communication, and only a strained
tolerance between the Silistran Day-Keepers, guardians of the past, manipulators of the present, charters
of the future, and their Parset brethren. The forereaders, as long ago as my great-grandmother’s time,
predicted that someday great harm would come to us all from out of the Parset desert.
      So the Parsets had chosen. They speak a dissimi-lar language, wear a different chald. The chains of
chaidra which have bound them from hide days are not the same as those which bind the rest of Silistra. I
recalled that the Parsets had instigated no Wells, where a woman might go to get herself with child. I
knew also that their jiasks, warrior men, and flasks, warrior women, were not bound by the Law of
Seven, as were the Slayers of the north, east and west. And that they alone, of all the peoples of Silistra,
still made war:
      I heard the flap and snap of wings about my head, saw a shadow cross the full moon. It was bright as
day upon the barrens, but a day sucked dry of color and tone. I recollected stories I had heard about the
Parset Lands; that many had en-tered them and few had returned; that one was better off to give up
one’s body to the chaldra of the soil than to walk the Parset barrens uninvited. Because their chaldric
chains differ so markedly from those worn upon the rest of Silistra, all not Parset are, to them, chaldless.
      Occasionally I had seen Parsets at games or festivals. Once I had been, before I reached my
majority and took up the Keepress’ robes in Astria, at Day-Keepers’ Rollcall, that greatest of
gather-ings held four times a year on the plains of Yardum-Or. With, my teacher Rin diet Tron, first of
the Slayers’ Seven of Astria, had I been there. I had seen a number of Parset jiasks, swaggering bold
among the crowd, with their feather-plumed helmets, their tiasks beside them. At such gather-ings they
do their trading. They come to barter their woven rugs, their precious metals, their rare drugs. I was
standing with Rin beneath the Slayers’ awning when a pelter from Galesh accidentally jostled a tiask
woman in the crowd. Her mate turned, aired steel, and struck in one motion, and the pelter’s headless
body took several steps before it fell and pumped out its lifeblood upon the grass. I remembered the fury
in Rin’s face, how his hand grew white upon his sword hilt, and how he turned away. By the
Day-Keepers’ edict, the Parsets had immunity. To the jiask, the pelter was nothing. He struck within his
chaidra, as a Slayer might an outlaw in the forest, whom he had hunted for sport, or as a woman the
wirragaet sucking blood from her arm. It was well past eighth bell, after evening meal, before Rin diet
Tron, of the, Slayers’ Seven of Astria, had again spoken, had regained his good humor.
      Occasionally I have seen a Parset man within the walls of Well Astria, there to partake in the normal
fashion of the fruits of Silistran womanhood. But never has Astria been petitioned to admit a Parset
woman, never have I heard of a Parset man so much as allowing one to compete in the Well testings.
How they keep their birthrate at an ac-ceptable level was a question much bandied about. I had seen a
number of women, such as Celendra, Well-Keepress of Arlet, who had been sired upon wellwomen by
Parsets. It is said among the well-women that the Parsets are the most potent of Silistran men, and that a
woman couched by one is almost certain to conceive. Some maintain that this is because of the strong
infusion of Gristasha blood in the Parset hide days. When the hide aniet was put into use at the time of
crisis, when the Day-Keepers and the forereaders went underground to avoid annihilation, the hide aniet
was only half-filled. Then did the Day-Keepers of aniet invite into the hide as many as could be
accommodated of the fierce and primitive Gristashas, those anach-ronistic tribesmen who had kept their
line pure from the very beginnings of Silistran prehistory. The Parsets bear strong and clear the Gristasha
stamp, even do they still tattoo themselves, as did their ancestors before them.
      Again the wind from the abyss blew chill about me as I lay beneath the full moon, though the evening
was so warm that the air wavered and rippled in its heat. I did not welcome that cold, which upraised
every hair upon me and caused my skin to pebble and crawl. No, I did not wel-come the wind from the
abyss, which had blown me from the keeps of Astria, whipped around me where I lay with Dellin in the
Slayers’ camp, whis-tled through the halls of Arlet. The cold of it seeped deep inside me, chilling me as it
had when it drove me forth into the Sabembe range. It keened in my ears as it had at the death of Tyith
bast Sereth. It roared as it had roared beneath the Falls of Santha. Upon Mi’ysten I had been free from
it. Until this day had I been free from it, and the evil portents of its fetid breath. Now again it blew around
me, and my belly cramped into a knot so tight I drew my thighs up against my chest as the Parset came
toward me, silver-gilded in the full-moon light, my father’s cloak thrown carelessly over his shoulders.
      Where I lay, upon my side, he squatted down by my head and reached out a hand toward me. Upon
his chest. I saw what I had not seen before, swing-ing from a heavy golden chain. As he raised me to a
sitting position, it swung inches from my face, that palm-sized medallion upon which was worked the
likeness of the uritheria, that mythical beast of the desert who is winged and scaled, clawed and horned,
and from whose mouth came the fire that ignited the sun in the sky. Its jeweled eyes glit-tered in the
moonlight, cruel, sentient. One of the other men had called this one Cahndor. Such is a title of respect
among the Pm-sets. But this man was Cahndor in the word’s formal meaning—war chief of a Parset
tribe, will of the sand, who held sworn death oaths from every man, woman, and child under his
protection.
      I swayed, dizzy, my weight against the arm that held me upright. His grip upon my shoulder tightened.
His hand, horny against my skin, seemed exceedingly large. Black eyes, all pupil under bushy straight
brows, examined me minutely, appraising, thoughtful. His other hand was at my belly, at my back, and
my bonds fell away.
     I rubbed my wrists, crossed my legs under me, felt him withdraw his support. My eyes were caught
by his; I felt the insect in the webber’s snare, waiting, paralyzed. I looked away, at my wrists in my lap, at
the rope print upon them.
     ‘How is it with you, little crell?” he asked in Parset, slowly, distinctly. I could not place the dialect.
He shifted hack on his heels. The silvered light played on his heavy-muscled thighs, upon his thick neck
and corded arms. He was a large-boned thick-maned man, in his prime, massive but not clumsy.
Tight-curled hair poked through the chain links about his neck, forested his chest, thinning as it
‘approached his navel, where it fanned out on his flat belly, to disappear beneath a metal-studded
breech. Over this was buckled his sword belt, which held the undulating Parset short sword, a small
sheathed knife, and the coiled length of braided leather.
     I did not answer, but only looked up at him.
     “Hael, attend me!” he called, and that one came to join him, sitting cross-legged beside his master.
Hael was of almost identical stamp, save that his skin seemed a trifle more black, his lips a bit fuller, his
nose flatter above his full beard.
     The one called Hael brought from his belt a tiny bladder, as small as my palm, and removed the
stopper from it.
     “This will strengthen you. Open your mouth,” he said. I was sorry that I had done so when the bitter,
burning liquid hit my tongue It was fire inside me, and that fire slowly spread through my whole body,
calling every artery, every vein, every capillary to my attention.
     “What was that?” I choked. My vision dimmed and sharpened, my ears rang. The drug was strong. I
heard the air rustle; the two men, breathing sounded loud as the roaring of Santha. My heart was a
kapura drum keeping double time.
     “So you speak. Good. Here. Only drink three swallows,” the bearded one said, and handed me a
larger bladder.
     This I smelled before I tasted, and it was water, cold and good. I was reluctant to stop after the third
drink, but their eyes were’upon me, and I handed it back. Hael took it from my grasp and corked it. He
leaned over me and put his thumbs to my eyelids, each in turn, and then to my tem-ples and wrists. He
turned to his cahndor and nodded. That one grinned, white teeth flashing.
     “Chayin,” said the one called Hael, putting his hand upon his cahndor’s shoulder, “we should ei-ther
ride or raise apprei.” He got to his feet. “She is strong and resilient. When she is healed and clean, she
might even be pleasing. If you would find out, you should leave her be, let her rest.” And he turned and
was gone without waiting for answer or dismissal.
     I thought it strange that a jiask wouldtalk to his cahndor so. To raise apprei, the portable cloth house
of the Parset, or ride on was surely a deci-sion the cahndor was capable of making on his own. A Slayer
would not have spoken so to one of the Seven.
     The cahndor gazed after the one called Hael. He spat upon the ground, and turned back to me. He
raised my chin with his hand, gently, so that his eyes met mine once more. I saw the nictitating membrane
for a moment; then it was gone.
     “What shall I call you, little crell? Hael says you will live. Do you want to live?”
     “I am Estri of Astria, Hadrath diet Estrazi,” I said. I thought the second question rhetorical. I watched
his face closely, but my name meant noth-ing to him.
     “No,” he said to me, “you are not. You are an unnamed crell, bound for the appreida of the
Nernarsi. Your chald”—he ran his hand under the eighteen-strand belt at my waist—“means nothing
here. You have but one choice open to you; you may live, crell to me, Chayin rendi Inekte, cahndor of
the Nemarsi. Or you may, at this moment, choose to die. Choose now, for the choice will never again be
given you.”
     The look upon his face convinced me he did not speak in jest. The wind from the abyss buffeted me.
To renounce my chald, my heritage, my Well, my freedom, to renounce all of those for my life—what
choice was that? And yet, death renounces life.
     “What if I do not wish to choose?” I asked him. My voice trembled in my own ears.
     “Then I will choose for you. But if that be the case, then you are bound by my will.”
     “We are all bound, Chayin rendi Inekte.” It was my voice that spoke, insolent and defiant, but I had
not willed it to do so.
     I saw the anger in his eyes. I swallowed, my fear-dry mouth sour and sticky. If he chose death for
me, so be it. If he chose to make me crell, then it was not by my will, and I was not bound by his choice.
I was not unhappy that the power within me had so spoken.
     Chayin rendi Inekte, cahndor of the Nemarsi, took up the rope in his hands. He slid its length
between his palms, coiled it around his fists. A long-legged, narrow-beaked pandivver landed, snap-ping
its wings, near my knee. It regarded me, unblinking, head cocked. I could see the pulse beat in its throat.
Finally, satisfied, it furled its pinions and began to hunt, stabbing its shari, beak into the ground, throwing
its head into the air to swallow, then repeating the process. Its long legs carried it away, bobbling, its
feathered rear raised to the moon.
     “You know nothing, crell, of our customs. Un-committed, your lot will be hard. Perhaps too hard. As
a favor, I will bind you here and leave you for the desert,” he said as he rebound my hands be-hind my
back, and passed the loop of rope about my belly, tying it in front. “I have not the time for you.”
     He got to his feet. I looked up at him from where I knelt on the sand. The horror of my situation had
me frozen. I had thought he would take me, or kill me quickly, mercifully. But he would leave me bound
and helpless in the barrens, food for what-ever first happened upon me. He turned his back to me, and
the moonglow fired the Shaper’s seal on the cloak he wore. My father had done this to me, placed me
here in the path of pain and dying, that I might not interfere in his plans. Of all I had suffered at the hands
of men, his stroke had been the cruelest. Pawn had I lived, pawn would—I die. Defiance rose in me. I
would not be so easily dealt with!
     “Cahndor,” I called softly to his retreating back, though the word came hard and bitter to my tongue.
I would beg for my life, bide my time. This was no Mrysten I faced, but a desert primitive. I had not
spent so long in Well Astria for nothing. I would play the conquered, but eventually, it was I who would
conquer. As he had bound me with rope, so would I bind him, with desire. I would spread the
knowledge I had gained upon Mi’ysten and free us from the Shaper’s Mi’ysten manipula-tion. To do so,
‘I must live. To live, I would do what was needed.
     “Cahndor,” I called again.
     Chayin rendi Inekte, cahndor of the Nemarsi, turned and came to stand before me.
     I put my cheek to his booted foot and kissed it. Kneeling, my hair in the dirt, my lips against the
rough leather, I waited.
     “Speak, little crell, speak the words.” His voice held amusement, triumph.
     “I choose to live, I beg to live. Do with me as you will.”
     “Say, then, that you choose to live as crell to me, and speak my name.”
     I did so, though the dust blurred the words and my voice was weak and shaky. For a moment I
thought he would not accept me, but would leave me; even though I had prostrated myself before him.
     “I think,” he said, after a silence in which my heart thundered, deafening, “you shall be Miheja. It is a
good Parset name. Live up to it.” And he lifted me to my feet. I was much shamed; my sense of purpose,
my plan did not ease me. The smile that tugged at the corner of his lips, danced in his eyes, burned my
skin. My legs were un-steady under me; I weaved upon my feet.
     “A crell does not gaze into the eyes of her cahndor, unless so commanded,” he informed me. I
dropped my eyes.
     “Nor into the eyes of any man or woman of the Nemarsi,” he cautioned. His voice seemed far away,
the words unclear. The ground beneath me reached up, calling. A haze of red consumed it; then the red
was dark, and I felt his arms about me, and the dizziness faded. The drug was wearing off, the stimulant
effect receding. I was again conscious of my throbbing feet, my thirst, my hunger, my weakness. He
picked me up in his arms and car-ried me. His skin was hot, and slick against mine.
     Among the others he set me down. I counted ten of them, squatting on the rocky ground. Bladders of
drink and wraps of meat littered the sand. Be-side the bearded Hael he placed me, and sat himself.
Hael’s eyes were for his cahndor. My eyes were for the wrap of leather upon which rested a half-eaten
joint of meat. The smell of it had me salivating. My stomach voiced its need. Chayin rendi Inekte picked
up the meat and gnawed at it.
     “What name have you given her?” Hael asked. “Miheja,” Chayin answered around a mouthful. I lay
between them, hands bound under me. My cahndor had not seen fit to free me. Hael looked at me; his
eyes searched mine. I looked away, remem-.
     bering.
     Hael uncorked a bladder and lifted my head that I might drink. In the bladder was not water, but
some warming brew with which I was not familiar. He then cut some meat and fed me pieces, slowly,
with his fingers. After three bites, my shrunken stomach could hold no more. I turned my head away. His
hand on my forehead turned it back to him, so that I could not avoid his bearded face. He smiled down
at me, and his smile was gentle.
     “Perhaps you will win, in the end, little Miheja,” he said in a voice so low the others could not hear.
He leaned over me, his hand once again on my forehead. I felt strength pour into me through his palm, the
heat of it burning. He had the healer’s touch, and I wondered what other touches he had, what he meant
by his obscure comment as his hands did his work.
     “Put her up before you. I would not overly tire Saer. If we leave now, we will make Wiyuta jer by
sun’s rising. There we will raise apprei,” Chayin said. He got to his feet and strode to the dozing threx,
huddled together, heads drooping. The men were up and moving, hurriedly reclaiming their bladders and
meat. None spoke as they worked. I thought it strange that so many men were so quiet. It is not that way
among the Slayers.
     Had picked me up and carried me to the threx, where he sat me astride a large black and swung up
behind me. I would not ride, this time, upon my stomach, with my face in the dirt. He reached around me
and drew up the reins. Chayin’s threx was already started, a cloud of dust marking his trail. Hael kicked
the black into a run. Its gait was easier than the cahndor’s mount, but with my hands bound behind me I
had no way to keep my balance, and was glad of Hael’s arms around me on the reins. The threx’s
bristled neck snaked low as he hit his stride, and I could see the pointed ears flicking back and forth as
he picked his way at breakneck speed across the treacherous ground. Foam sprayed up, rising on the
wind from his frothing mouth. Hael gave him more rein.
     When the black threx was so close to Chayin’s dapple that each bristle of its tail was distinct from
the others, Hael reined him up, content to follow. The Shaper’s seal sparked in the moonlight like some
festival firestick before us in the night.
     “How did you come by that cloak?” Hael asked in my ear. His beard itched my neck, his matted
chest hair my back as I leaned against him.
     “It was a gift from my father, when I entered the desert.” I turned my mouth to his ear, that the wind
would not snatch my words away.
     “And what did you seek here?”
     “A way home, to Astria. And a man of Arlet. And a Day-Keeper.”
     “What father,” said he, “would allow his, daugh-ter to seek where she cannot find? The home you
will see will not be Astria. Except among the crells, there are none of Arlet with us. There are few enough
in Arlet. But a Day-Keeper, now, that is another thing. If you sought one, then you have found one.” His
arms tightened about my waist as the threx swerved to avoid some obstacle, then veered back behind the
cahndor’s mount.
     I had thought as much. The way he had spoken to Chayin, the concern he had shown for me, his
healing skills, all marked him. And he had the cryptic tongue of his kind.
     “It is a certain Day-Keeper I seek, one for whom I have a message.”
     “Although there is little exchange between us and our past-brothers, the times have pushed us closer.
I could deliver such a message.”
     “For a crell?” I asked bitterly.
     “That cloak marks you. Chayin is ignorant by choice of what does not please him. He will learn. One
does not instruct the cahndor. There is little enough I can do for you. You should accept my offer.”
     “To Vedrev of Arlet, then, take this message. I am Estri, returned from discharging the chaldra of the
mother. I had success in that, and it should be so written. Say also that Sereth crill Tyris’ actions on my
behalf were above reproach.”
     I felt his arm tighten, heard the intake of his breath, felt the imperceptible shake of his head.
     “How long have you been upon this chaldra? And where have you been that you do note know what
has occurred?” At his words, I felt the ice wind again upon me. “Even in the Parset barrens, we have
heard that news.”
     “What is the date?” I asked. “I have been long sequestered.” I could not tell him more, not yet.
“What news is it that I have not heard?”
     “The date is Finara second first, 25,695.”
     It had been more than two years, Silistran time, since I had been with Sereth beneath the Falls of
Santha.
     “And what is it,” I asked again, “that ‘I have not heard?”
     “That Vedrev has taken up the chaldra of the soil, and at the hands of Sereth crill Tyris.” Ahead of
us, Chayin slowed his mount. Had did likewise. I was aware, but vaguely, of the silhouetted tyla palms,
the smell of fresh water in the air. Amid the barrens was an expanse of life, and growth.
     “We approach Wiyuta jer, little crell. Name me another Day-Keeper to whom you would like this
message given.”
     I hardly heard him. Vedrev dead, and, at Sereth’s hand? What had happened? How could such a
thing be true? And what of Sereth? It is unthinkable, a heinous crime, for a Slayer to kill a Day-Keeper.
     “Ristran, perhaps,” I answered, when he repeated the question. “Ristran of Astria.”
     I had to know. I asked what was in my mind, what constricted my heart and made my tongue huge
and unwieldy in my mouth.
     “Does Sereth live?”
     Hael laughed. I did not like the sound of that laugh; there was no humor in it,
     “Indeed he does. But enough talk of these things. For you, all that exists is the. Nemarsi, and its
cahndor. You had best forget Sereth of Arlet. I will do’what I said, and deliver your message, but you
might be better off if I did not. Things are much changed in Arlet; indeed, upon the face of all Silistra.
Sereth crill Tyris is much changed. You are better off crell to Chayin than you would be if the past-Seven
of Arlet knew you yet live. I would not, if I were you, speak your given name again, as long as you yet
breathe. Forget who you were. Let Estri, Well-Keepress of Astria, remain unfound. I thought it might be
you when I saw that sign upon the cloak.” He reined up the black threx, lest he pace abreast of Chayin ‘s
dapple in his haste to reach the grassy ,jer.
     “Tell me,” I pleaded, “why you say these things.” He shook his head, and did not speak again to me,
but let the threx he rode have its head. The black came up beside the cahndor’s threx and was then
content to match him. The dapple’s ears went back, he snorted and snapped, and the cahndor slapped
him sharply with the flat of his hand. The animal jumped and lunged, and Chayin pulled so upon the
double bits that the foam dribbling from the threx’s mouth turned red.
     The black was much unnerved by this, and danced and quivered beneath us. Once again Hael reined
him back. He leaned forward to sluice the new sweat off the sleek shoulder.
     you at the same time. I might have been tempted. You could have value beyond that which seems
apparent. But he saw that. Privately, but valid nontheless, you have spoken the words. Nothing can
change that.”
     “He does not know who I am. My name meant nothing to him,” I protested. I would have much
preferred to belong to this Day-Keeper, if I had to belong to any of them.
     “Do not be a fool. There are none upon Silistra who do not know that name. The halls of Arlet ran
with blood upon your account. He knew, before you told him. He made no sign, because he was not
surprised. The haste with which he took your com-mitment proves it.” His voice was wry. The threx’s
footfalls were muddled upon lush grass. Chayin was already dismounted, stripping the carved and tooled
Parset saddle from the steaming dapple’s back. He slipped the headstall, with its bloody double bits,
from the threx’s mouth, hobbled its front feet, and turned away to seat himself be-neath a tyla palm. I
thought it a wonder the ani-mal was sound, if such negligence was the cahndor’s practice. The threx was
badly overheated, steaming.
      Hael lowered me to the ground, to the luxuriant grass that grew in the jer. Chayin, from where he sat
under the tyla, watched me. The dark was fast receding, the sky greening in the east, the stars fading
away. The night noises were gone, the moon absent from above our heads. I heard the jingle, snort, and
blow that was the rest of the Nemarsi jiasks straggling into the jer. Hael rubbed his threx down and
turned him loose. He dragged his carved saddle with its webcloth rolls and voluminous saddlepacks to
Chayin. Color and tone came al-most perceptibly to the jer, silhouette became substance, as the sun’s
first rays burst over the Sabembes.
      When there were nine more threx loose in the jer, the jiasks went about raising apprei. From their
saddles they took the web-cloth rolls, from their bags arm-length tubes of green stra metal. These tubes
they fit together into long stachions and set them deep into the earth. Over the pyra-mid frameworks they
fastened the web-cloth panels. By the time the sun showed its full disk, three appreis, each resplendent
with those psychotropic designs favored by the Parsets, Stood beneath the tyla palms.
      Into the largest of the three went Chayin, his saddle thrown over his shoulder, the tooled leather
packs almost dragging to the ground. I still stood where Hael had left me, my hands bound behind me,
my feet upon the moist, cushiony grass.
      I heard a rustle, a crackling, and Hael slid down a tyla’s trunk, a cluster of fruit stuck in his sword
belt. Two of the jiasks were busy with a fire, an-other two with a haunch of meat. Gear was strewn
everywhere. The jer rumbled with their mutter-ings as they unstoppered bladders and passed them back
and forth.
      The Day-Keeper motioned me, and I followed him meekly into the largest apprei.
      The apprei was a clutter. A Parset keeps his treasures around him, wherever he may be. Chayin
squatted in a corner, pulling still more from the bottomless saddlepacks. I saw a full set of threx shoes,
and all that was needed to set them. ‘I saw a small brazier, piles of clothing, boxes, and rolled mats. I
saw wraps of meat, plump full bladders. Over the grass the cahndor had spread thick-piled mats; from
the stanchion in the apprei’s middle he had hung his harness and sword belt, coils of braided leather, and
a lit oil lamp.
      “Sit, little crell,” Hael said to me, and knelt down himself, to unpack his own gear.
      I sat upon my heels, conscious of my bonds, of the rope upon my belly. It was cool in the apprei.
      The mat under me was all red and gold, rich, warm. I let my eyes follow the dancing, patterns. I sank
within them, searching.
      In Chayin I saw a beast in a blood rage, a dorkat wounded. I deep-read him, and what was there
made me shiver. He was law unto himself, but he knew no law. Stealthy desert stalker, he craved the kill.
Within him was a terrible anger. He cared only for his satisfaction. He was what a Slayer might have
been, were there no Day-Keepers’ laws to restrain him.
      And Hael, the Day-Keeper, I read also. I liked what I saw no better. The picture I had for him was
that of the kepher, that tree dweller from the swamps of Galesh, with its warted skin and suck-ered,
webbed feet, that waits invisible upon the bark for unsuspecting wirragaets. I saw its long, sticky tongue
shoot out, waving. I could only won-der at the vision’s meaning.
      The two, knelt together, fitting pieces of wood like demented children with a puzzle. As I watched,
the three-level board took shape under the light from the middle stanchion. It was the yris-tera, part game
and, part oracle, that is played by forereaders and Day-Keepers for its auguries, by Slayers and advisers
for its, strategies, by children for the fun of the contest.
      When they had it built, they settled around it with the leather shaker, in which were the sixty game
pieces of carved bone, and began to play. I was forgotten, ignored, as the first throw was cast.
      Upon the first level of the board fell the spear and shield, and the dayglass. Through the shots in the
first level tumbled two threx and the woman and man symbols, to land upon the second, and the fire and
spear, and the Well, to land upon the third.
      Chayin spat, disgusted. He still wore the Shaper’s cloak, thrown back over his shoulders. Upon his
arms I could see his tattoos, rippling as if with their own life as he shook the leather cylinder, to throw
again. Upon his right arm was the slitsa, curled around the undulating Parset blade. On his left the
uritheria, symbol of his rank covered his entire bicep, winding around it, its tail trailing down his forearm.
Its fanged mouth was open, its forked tongue seemed to dart and writhe in the uncertain light, its leathery
wings about to snap into flight.
     A jiask entered, bearing two full bladders, one larger than the other. He passed me without notice,
and stood before the cahndor and the Day-Keeper, bent over the board. Chayin nodded absently to
him. The jiask laid the two bladders by Chayin’s side. He looked at the board, and his brows knit
together.
     ‘Is it for Frullo jer?” asked the jiask.
     “For what else could it be?” The cahndor’s tone was sour. The jiask squatted down to watch. Hael
leaned forward as Chayin threw again. The oil lamp picked out the Day-Keepers’ signs in blues and reds
upon his shoulders; the compass, the dayglass which contains the world, the eight-pointed star in circle.
Within that star I saw glyphs I did not recognize. All except for one. That one I had seen upon Estrazi’s
ring, and upon the plat-form beneath the Falls of Santha. The glyph means “messenger” in Mi ‘ysten. I
wondered if it were by chance that he wore it.
     I was not pleased by my reading. Doubtless, I thought, it was the drug they had given me, block-ing
my talent. I, who wore the deep-readers’ chain, had gotten little help from my strongest skill.
     The second throw gave Chayin another woman upon the top level; an ebvrasea, winged fury,
oppo-site one threx, and a sword upon the other, on the middle; and two men and one woman upon the
bottom. The placement of these was most unusual, one woman and man beside the Well, and the other
obstructing them with the fire and spear. These, certainly, were no random falls. Sometimes one can get
much from the boards, sometimes little. It was my guess that this game might show the cahndor and the
Day-Keeper more than they wanted to see. It was a board of crisis and polar-ization, of struggle and
death. It had fallen so upon only the second throw.
     Hael pointed to the top level.
     “On the board of catalysts, the spear and shield, upon the red, are what is needed. The dayglass,
upon the black, represents the will that controls. Thus we have what is preordained by the demands of
time. Into this is drawn the woman, upon the gold, the place of the prime mover, through which ‘ the
dayglass works. What think you, Chayin?”
     “Besha,” cahndor said. The jiask shifted his position. His brow was furrowed.
     “Perhaps,” said Hael. “But I think not. Upon the mid-board, of movement and manifestation, we
have a threx on the gray of death, and one upon triumph’s purple and loss’s yellow. We see a woman,
near the dying threx, within the swirl square of’ change. And the man, almost atop the threx that abides in
both triumph and loss. Corn-ing to challenge these we have the ebvrasea, oppo-site the man, and upon
the square of overriding purpose. Thus, the ebvrasea will use the threx and man to its ends. And lastly,
the sword, upon the threx in the death square, its blade pointing to the woman within the square of
change. Remember, as you consider this board, whose symbol the ebvrasea has become, and what
rumors about its flight we have just recently heard. I think, as it falls, that Besha lies here. ‘ He pointed to
the woman in the swirl.
     Chayin nodded, leaning forward, his eyes nar-rowed, his chin resting upon his fist.
     “And last, the board of outcome,” Hael continued. “The Well in the white of what may be gained,
with the fire upon its home, what is needed, and the spear upon the square of the heart. Into this come
two men and one woman. One man takes up the spear with the power of the fire at his command, and
opposes the man and woman who stand be-fore the Well. The woman stands in hate, and the man in
love. I think we have thrown for Frullo jer, and gotten a glimpse of something else, of which the races at
Frullo jer are only a small part. Only in the mid-board are the pieces concerned with our question.” He
looked up from the board, at Chayin.
     “If the ebvrasea seeks your aid, will you give it?”
     I wondered who the ebvrasea represented to them. I knew of no Well or city, town or tribe, who
used that great soaring mountain carnivore as a symbol.
     Chayin met Hael’s eyes.
     “Would you, brother, were our positions reversed?” The jiask, silent, watching, had his hand upon
his sword hilt.
     “I think I would. The board demands it. The time demands it. And yet, much blood would flow, if
such a thing were done, for reasons that are none of our affairs. Or were not, until this day. If one made
this move”—he reached to the top board and plucked the woman from it, and placed it atop the
ebvrasea upon the second—“one could per-haps avoid the entire sequence. With the prime mover
surrendered to the square of overriding purpose, one might avoid what follows. It would have to be done
before this occurs.” He pointed to the threx within the square of death.
     Chayin regarded the changed board. He reached out and removed all the pieces with the exception
of the ebvrasea and the woman Hael had placed beside it in the green square. He tossed the bone pieces
in his closed fist.
     “Could you not be wrong, could that woman not be Besha also, and the ebvrasea the speed of the
threx, the purpose of the race itself?”
     Hael smiled and shook his head.
     “When did you last throw the Well, brother? There is but one Well,” he reminded Chayin gently,
“among all the pieces.”
     “I threw it six passes ago, sets before we went to Rollcall at Yardum-Or.” He grinned ruefully.
     “And did you not, while, in Yardum-Or, ride close to two hundred neras to see Well Oppiri?”
     “It was an impulse, drunken and ill-conceived.”
     “But you did, against your own judgment and intentions, enter into a Well soon after you threw one.
Had you ever thrown the piece before?”
     “You know I did not ever before throw one. And you know what you would make of this board,”
Chayin said sharply. “I say it is Besha that is our problem, at the moment. If the Menetphers attend, and
Aknet aniet Boshast rides the Son of Tycel, who has taken the Golden Sword three years in a row, then
Besha’s Gtianden is our only hope. Saer has not the stamina for the two-nera run, and your Quiris has
not the speed to take a Tycel son.”
     It was clear to me at that moment that the Nemarsi had been upon the desert to toughen the threx. I
had wondered why they carried no helmets, no spears, no shields. Nor had I seen the deadly Parset lash,
the huija, upon any of the men. Ready-ing the threx for racing, they traveled light.
     “I, also, would hate to see the sword go again to the Menetphers,” Hael agreed. “But. I think you still
miss the point of the board.”
     “The point, as I see, it, is that Besha is insuffer-able. She is more lofty than her station. I would be as
loath to see her triumph as I would the 1VIenetphers.”
     Chayin gestured to the jiask, who unstoppered one of the bladders he had brought and handed it to
his cahndor. He drank deeply and handed the drink to Hael.
     “Still,” Had said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, “Guanden should run. Besha will be
only more difficult, if you leave her behind. Perhaps something will occur at Frullo that will remind her of
her place. But neither you nor I, such as it would pleasure us, can be the one to do so. Doubtless her
insolent manner will attract some other jiask, someone not of the Nemarsi. Let us cast again.” Hael
pointed to the board, to the pieces Chayin still held in his hand.
     “Marshon!” snapped the cahndor. The jiask jumped to his feet. His blue eyes were startling in his
sun-weathered face. I saw he was younger than I had thought. He wore only breech and sword belt, and
his ribs showed clear under his binnirin-colored skin.
     “Marshon, take this crell and get her cleaned and fed and return her to me. And have a meal brought
to us.” Chayin dropped his gaze to the game and threw the bone pieces.
     Marshon the jiask was leaning over me, obscur-ing the board, and .I did not see how the throw fell
out.
     “There is nowhere for you to run,” said the jiask, looking me up and down, “and no use in you
causing yourself trouble. I will unbind you, and we will walk to the pool. I would not have to wash you
like an infant.”
     I nodded, and he removed the rope that bound my hands in back of me. Then he led me through the
tylas to the deep, wide pool, cool in their shadows. The young jiask reached among the vege—
      tation and broke from its stalk the fruit of a large succulent.
      “This will take the dirt from you,” he said. “Watch.” And I Watched while he thrust the plant .
beneath the water, swirled it around, then snapped it in half lengthwise and rubbed the exposed whit-ish
pulp against his skin. I tried the strange whit-ish plant upon my arm. It slid across my skin, and where it
had been, I was shades lighter. Convinced, I lathered and rubbed and dunked and lathered again, until
the water was murky with silt and suds. Moving deeper, I worked the strange, fruity gel from the plant
into my hair. When that was done, I lay upon my back and floated still upon the pool’s surface. My
abraded feet throbbed my heart’s rhythm.
      I turned the game’s fall in my mind. I wished I had been there to see the play. Chayin’s next throw
would have designated the pieces to be used, as well as showing the result of surrendering the woman
from the prime mover’s square to the ebvrasea of overriding purpose. Then the pieces would have been
assigned, placed on the board, and the dice cast. And cast, and cast. And through the dice and the
pieces and the two players’ abili-ties would have come the probabilities inherent in the approaching time.
One, eventually, would win, capturing the other’s pieces. How this win was accomplished, and upon
what squares the drama unfolded, would greatly influence how the cahndor and the Day-Keeper pursued
their goal. The power of yris-tera is very great. Sometimes I have won-dered whether it is not too great,
whether the game does not condition the time, rather then pre-dict it.
      I sighed to myself. The first two throws had seemed to speak directly to me. Hael had hinted that he,
too, saw me upon the board. I could make no sense of the mid-level, nor why the Day-Keeper had
chosen to move the woman there.
      “Enough, crell! There will be nothing to eat but bones.”
      I opened my eyes and regarded the jiask. I climbed dripping upon the bank, my copper skin
gleaming in the bright sun. The slightly abrasive plant fibers had buffed me silken smooth. I ran my hands
over my flat belly, sluicing the drops from me. I split my sopping mass of thigh-length hair and brought the
halves forward upon my breasts. Running my fingers through the snarls, I remem-bered that upon
Mi’ysten I had learned a better way. I raised my hands to the crown of my head and did as the Shaper
woman had taught me, bringing my hands slowly down, fingers spread. My scalp tingled, the strands
crackled, and my hair lay without knot or tangle upon my breasts. So I had brought at least one Mi’ysten
skill back with me. Not all of what had been learned beyond time and space could be used within it. But
if one skill could be brought to bear, so might some others. Shaping—creating from the molecules free in
the air what one desires—had eluded me in the desert. I thought I might try again, when I had the chance.
      The jiask’s eyes were upon me. He was staring. “It is amazing,” he said, “what a little puiia and water
will do.”
      I smiled at him, boldly meeting his eyes.
      “Your cahndor awaits you, crell,” he growled, his eyes on my chald.
      “And his brother, does he too await me?” I queried, as he took my arm and—led me back through
the tyla palms, toward the appreis. “Are they truly brothers?”
      “Dharener Hael? He is also the son of Inekte, by the same rendi woman, Tasphersi, who was, a
      34 Jartet E. Morris
      Nemarchan until Inekte died.” He stepped over the dead tyla trunk that lay fallen across the path. I
followed suit, and gasped as I trod a sharp stone.
      “Who is Nemarchan now?” I asked, limping as we cross , the clearing to the fire, burning low,
untended. The other jiasks had already retired to the shade of the appreis. They had left a joint of meat
and half-full pot of binnirin, boiled until the grains had dissolved into a brown starchy mass. Beside the
joint, cooled so that the fat and blood had congealed upon its charred surface, lay a quarter-filled
bladder.
      “Can you not wait to find out? Liuma Sataeje aniet Erastur reigns over the tiasks, over the time and
the life, at the side of Chayin rendi Inekte, chosen son of Tar-Kesa.” He intoned the ritual with more than
a little fervor. Tar-Kesa, ancient god of the gristasha, still held power in the desert. If Liuma reigned over
the time and life, then she was forereader. Chayin had a formidable court, with his blood brother the
dharener, first among the Day-Keepers of the Nemarsi, and his couch-mate Nemarchan and forereader.
With the three elements in accord, the Nemarsi might be wielded like a single razor-sharp sword in the
hand of the cahndor. I knew the ritual of Tar-Kesa, and if Chayin had become his chosen son, he had
under-gone its testing: arduous, but worth the pain and risk to a man who would become a flesh-god, a
living legend, above reproach and question. Dorkat, indeed, was Chayin, who loved power so much that
he had laid his life down as wager upon the altar of Tar-Kesa.
     I picked, at the charred meat, at the mass of binnirin in the pot. The jiask gulped his food so fast he
must have swallowed each bite whole. He drank long from the bladder. The sun beat down hot upon my
back. When he surrendered the drink to me, I found it to be brin, headless and flat, but welcome. The
intoxicant eased my mind, light-ened my heart. I drank more. I was not hungry, I decided, but only
thirsty. I was conscious of the apprei, looming behind my back. Its cool shade did not entice me. I had
almost managed to forget why the cahndor had allowed me to wash and feed.
     Marshon the jiask got to his feet and wiped his greasy hands upon his thighs. He tugged at my hair.
Reluctantly I rose. He unlaced the flap and held it open for me. I saw that my plight amused him. All
within the apprei looked green and indis-tinct. I stood for a moment, the urge to turn and run strong upon
me, but there was nowhere to run. I stepped inside, and the flap fell back in place.
     “As is often the case,” Chayin said from some-where before me, “Had was right. When that chald is
cut from you, you will be very lovely. Lace the flap.” I turned and did so, the laces and holes slowly
detaching themselves from the grainy dark as my vision cleared and sharpened. When that afraid is cut
from you, he had said.
     “Do not take my chald from me.” I faced him, my back against the laced flap, my hands clenched
behind me.
     “Crells do not wear chalds. It lessens their beauty, their usefulness, their htimility. It slows their
adjustment. What use is a chald without meaning? Come here.”
     I went to him, where he lounged with his back against the middle stanchion. I remembered, as I knelt
before him, not to meet his gaze.
     “Crells do not wear chalds,” he repeated, his hands taking up the hair over my breast and gently
brushing it back, that he might see me better.
     36 Janet E. Morris
     “Then I will remove it if you wish.” I would not have my chald defaced.
     “Do so:’ he commanded.
     I put my hands to my chald, running the strands through my fingers. I found the juncture, took the tiny
key from, its housing, and fitted the key in the lock. The ends parted. I took my eighteen-strand chald in
my palms and looked at it. I saw the silver chain with white interwoven, that of Well Astria. I saw the
red, due for changing, of the chaldra of the mother. I saw the bronze of birthing, unfulfilled. I saw my
chains of patronage; to the Day-Keepers and the Slayers and the gol-masters, I closed my fists in, upon
my platinum deep-reader’s chain, and that of Astria’s dependent city, Port Astrin. My eyes swam with
tears. I could not see my clenched fists, but still I saw the strands of my chald. I saw the six brass mixed,
of my schooling, and that of the singers of titrium and iron, and that of the musicians, of copper and
bronze, and the green stra metal of the threx breeders, and the Well-Keepress’ chain, of white gold set
with white-fire gems. That one had been mine when I was born. The others, I had spent three hundred
and two years acquiring. What is a Silistran, without chaldra? I brought it to my lips and kissed it, and
handed it to the cahndor of the Nemarsi. I had never before felt so exposed. I shook my head to bring
my hair forward, that it might cover my nudity. It settled in a cloud around me, soft and sweet-smelling. I
crossed my arms over my breasts.
     His hand, which held my chald, was still out-stretched to me.
     “And the key, little crell.” This, also, I handed over to Chayin.
     He fitted the key in the housing, laid the chald aside. He looked me over, long and slow, where I
huddled shamed before him. I could feel the heat of my blood, racing to my skin.
     “Such a position suits you,” he commented. “You might have been born crell.” I did not meet his
gaze, nor answer him. I was crell. A crell does not raise her eyes to her cahndor.
II. Chosen Son of Tar-Kesa
     The apprei was red-lit with the sun’s setting when I awakened. Chayin slept soundly. He had not
removed the Shaper’s cloak, but wrapped it around his chest, though the day was fireside-hot. His alien
chald glittered in the dim light. I could make nothing of it, but I must honor it. He was chalded; I was not.
There were fourteen strands, of various metals, some with teeth and charms, tufts of hair and gems
depending from them. It was loosely woven, more so even than the chalds of Arlet.
     He had not used me as a wellwoman, but as an animal. If such was a crell’s couching, I wanted no
more of it. He had forced upon me more of the stimulant drug Hael had given me in the desert, and my
heart pounded against my ribs. He had made no attempt to sate my needs, and my heat burned within
me. I lay upon my side, my loins pressing against his thigh of their own accord. I hated him. He slept. I
could not. He had taken my chald from me, made me crell. In my mind, he was every man who had ever
misused me. He became for me Raet, and Estrazi, and Dellin. Even Dellin, whom I once loved, at that
moment I would have killed upon the spot. My breathing deepened, and my senses became sharp and
clear. Through this man, I would teach them all a thing about women. I studied Chayin’s cloaked chest,
rising and falling before my eyes. I would kill him. He, abuser of the helpless, cahndor of the chaldless,
did, not deserve to live. His breech and sword belt lay where he had thrown them, upon the mat, within
easy reach. With his own sword I would skewer him, not only for myself, but for all the other helpless
crells. I would plunge that undu-lating Parset blade into his heart. He would make no outcry, and then I
would slip past the sleeping jiasks and steal a threx. The black one, Hael’s, the one called Quiris, would I
take and ride northeast, into the Sabembes, to Arlet. There I would see for myself what had occurred,
whose blood had been spilled in my name. I would find Sereth and do what was needed. And DeIlin,
whom I once loved. Then I would go to Astria, and take up the Keep-ress-ship once more. I would
need, I reminded myself, my chald, which lay in Chayin’s saddlepack under his head. I would be once
more chalded and free.
     I lay a long while considering my stroke. While I pondered, Chayin groaned in his sleep and turned,
to lie on his stomach. The Shaper’s cloak, still fastened about his neck, was drawn tight around him. The
spiral glittered upon it. Where the stones were thin, upon the western arm, would I strike. Between his
ribs, into his heart would I thrust the recurved steel.
     Stealthily, holding my breath, I rolled from his side and crawled to the sword belt he had so casu-ally
thrown upon the mat. Did he think that be-cause I was crell and chaldless, I was bereft of will?
Soundless, the blade slid from its sheath. The hilt was welcome in my hand. The blade was heavy, but of
good balance. It was intricately chased, the hilt inlaid with titrium and gold. It was a cahndor’s weapon.
By it would a cahndor die.
     On my knees I crawled back to him, the blade held between my breasts. I crouched above him, not
daring to breathe. My arms trembled. I had never killed a man before. This man, I reminded myself,
badly needed killing. Both hands upon the hilt, I raised the blade above my head, and brought it down,
my whole body behind my thrust. Be-tween two jewels of the spiral, I aimed the point, and followed it
down with all my weight and all my force.
     When the blade struck the Shaper’s cloak, drawn tight around Chayin in his sleep, it shattered like
ice. He was upon me; his hands imprisoned my wrists. He forced the jagged-bladed hilt from my grasp.
Breathing hard, one knee at either side of my head, the shattered hilt now in his one hand, both my wrists
crushed together in his other, he leaned close to me. His pupils were tiny points in his dark eyes, his lips
mucus-sticky, his face beaded with sweat. His breath had the smell of fear about it.
     “Crells do not raise arms to their cahndor,” he rasped. “This act of yours begs discipline. Shall I cut
you here?” He brought the jagged hilt to my face, ran the edge across my cheek. His knees, upon my hair
at either side of my head, gripped tightly. I could not turn my face. I struggled to free my wrists, but in
one hand he held them, easily. His grip upon them tightened until ‘I thought surely the bones would snap.
I met his eyes, defiant. Chance had defeated me, ill luck attended my bid for freedom. It was not by his
skill that he had triumphed.
     “Kill me now, Chayin “ I suggested, “before I have another chance. It was the Shaper’s cloak that
saved you. My next attempt will surely prove successful.”
     He laughed, and ran the broken blade down my throat, across my breasts. Burning moistness
fol-lowed its passage. I wished he would strike and be done with me.
     “Chayin .,” The voice was low and calm. It came, from the direction of the, apprei’s entrance. The
cahndor turned his head, grunted, threw the hilt aside. He dragged me to my feet, twisting my arms
cruelly. Leaning against the apprei wall was a. figure. Next to it the unlaced flap blew in the first evening
breeze. It was Raet. There was no mistaking that bronze glowing skin, that shimmer that surrounds a
Mi’ysten. I shuddered. Chayin forced me down on my knees, facing the intruder. His free hand jerked
my head back. I saw once more the figure by the door, and it was Had who stood there, his arms folded
across his chest, a smile flickering upon his beard-fringed lips.
     “How long have you been there?” Chayin de-manded.
     “Long enough,” Hael answered.
     “This crell tried to kill me in my sleep.” Chayin gave my head a savage shake.
     “I saw.” The Day-Keeper moved to stand before us.
     “You saw? And you did nothing? Brother, would you see me die?”
     “I saw what the boards told me I would see. I saw the sword raised against you crumble, as did the
bone sword when it struck the wood. As the pieces fell, so did it happen.” His voice was water upon the
fire of Chayin’s fury. “What did you expect?” he continued. “That she would calmly submit to you? A
Well-Keepress, designated prime mover, dosed with enough uris to keep jiask at the kill for a week?
Did you expect her to sing you to sleep?”
     The cahndor grunted. He dragged me through the litter to the middle stanchion and forced me to my
knees before it. The uritheria upon his arm glared balefully at me as he bound my wrists be-fore me to the
pole. When his arm brushed my face, I sank my teeth into his bicep, into the uritheria’s fanged head.
Chayin cursed and struck me away. My temple crashed against the stra metal stanchion. The lash upon
my back was far away, as if it was another whose flesh was parted. I bit deep into my arm, that I would
not give him more satisfaction by crying out And somewhere within. me a thing gave way, and the pain
mixed with passion and became something else. And that too was gone, and I was but a woman beaten
by her master, and the pain was only pain, and I was content to lie passive and receive it. There was little
blood.
     Chayin came and squatted before me, the thick braided-leather strap in his hands.
     “Are you satisfied, crell?” He jerked my head up. “What your mind expected, your body
de-manded, I have given you.”
     I shook my head, wordless, but my flesh knew what my heart denied. My eyes misted and cleared. I
felt a hand on my shoulder, and knew it to be Hael.
     Chayin looked past me, at, his brother the dhare-ner.
     “She is yours, Hael. I give her to you. In that way, perhaps things will set themselves aright. We will
throw again and see.”
     He turned his gaze back to me. His voice was low, his grip upon my head gentle. He laid down the
braided lash. I could see my flesh upon it He traced the side of my face with his fingers.
     “It would have been amusing,” he said to me, “but I have not the time for you. You tempt me, with
your flesh and spirit, your wellwoman’s skills. I cannot afford you.” His voice was a whisper. “I am not
Sereth of Arlet! Into your circle. I must not step, lest I lost all I have gained.”
     His eyes searched mine, his tone a strange mix-ture of sadness, longing, and determination. Around
his mouth were lines of strain.
     My back counted my pulse for me. “You fear yourself, cahndor, for you, certainly cannot fear a
crell.” I thought he would strike me when he heard my words. I did not care. He did not strike, but
smiled.
     “You understand too well. I will let you pass. Let Hael try you. With his Day-Keeper skills, he is
more your match.” He leaned forward and pulled my face against his, kissed me. It was not the kiss of a
cahndor to a crell. And I returned it. When he took his lips from mine reluctantly, I did not meet his gaze.
Confusion had my mind like the slitsa the furry yit; and it attempted to swallow me whole.
     Uris. Uris. I had not realized. It is a drug to take with utmost care. It looses that part of us which
must tear and rend and kill. It frees of inhibition, retards moral judgment, masks fatigue and pain with its
own strength. I had never submitted my-self to it in the past. The word pulsed great red letters before my
eyes, and I could see little else. I could not see Chayin, kneeling again with the shaker in hand, nor Hael.
I could not feel my bonds, the strain of my weight upon my arms, still lashed to the stanchion.
     After a time another thought came to me, and the red mist faded, to be replaced by a blackness
through which I wandered without form. I heard Chayin’s words again, echo chain: What your mind
expected, your body demanded, I have given you. And I answered it “no” until from sheer exhaus-tion I
stopped, cold, alone, mid-place between no-where and nothing, and knew what I had done. And the
dark became lighter. I had form once more. I walked the halls of Mi’ysten once again. My feet ‘trod the
saw-toothed Mi’ysten grass. This time I needed no guidance, no collar of stabiliza-tion around my neck.
     I found Estrazi behind the first door I chose to open of that endless hallway of same-seeming doors. I
felt no surprise that he should be so easily found, he who is seldom enfleshed. He sat upon the ground,
and I joined him, sitting close beside, content to watch the flameglow dance upon his skin for a longer
time than I have yet lived.
     And he spoke to me; a smooth strong breeze in my mind, for my ears did not hear him. Finally he
folded his arms over his chest, and those eyes that touch what they see burned within me. He said to me
that I must do as he bid.
     I replied that I could not do so, that I would do what mortal flesh could do, but no more.
     My father pointed out to me that if I did not use my skills, others would use me through them. That I
myself would be my greatest enemy.
     And I replied that it was he who had made it thus, and he must unmake it, for I would not and could
not be what he would have me be.
     And Estrazi laughed that gentle laugh that is like the first spring water bubbling, white at his right’
hand, Raet, Shaper son of Kystrai, appeared out of sparkling air.
     I would have risen, but I could not. Raet sat, completing our triangle.
     He hested a blue-white ball of jagged-edge crys-tal through the air toward me. I raised my hands
before me, but it was what I found behind my eyes that•stopped it, whirling, midway between, us.
     “Take it,” Raet said, pushing it hard toward me, while his fingers played upon the knee of his crossed
legs. The ball was suddenly closer, a small distance. I evened it.
     “I will not.” And my words were for Estrazi, as I tried to send the fiery ball toward the greatest
among the Shapers.
     “You will, in the fullness of time,” said Estrazi kindly. The blazing blue-white form regained the middle
between us. “Look what you do, with so much ease before us. Remember. When you are ready, it is
yours.”
     I shook my head. I would not.
     “So that I can be a better plaything for Raet, a more efficient instrument of your designs?” I took my
eyes from the ball for just a moment, to look in my father’s eyes.
     “Surely,” he said, and the jagged crystal ball, unimpeded, hit me in the head and exploded within my
brain. It illuminated within me every crevice and dark place of hiding. I shrank from the blind-ing light, but
not even my spirit cast a shadow in that cruel glow. I writhed and rolled to be free of it, and heard my
own voice, screaming.
     And I opened my eyes, to see Hael peering down, the mid-pole of the apprei rotating with his head
as its center. The distance between us became less and less, and the rotation of the world slowed and
ceased.
     Hael only knelt above me, his face but scant inches from mine. I could see grains of sand en-trapped
in his wiry black beard, cracks where the desert wind had scoured his full lips dark and deep.
     “I had thought you entrusted with the chaldra of the soil,” he said softly, wiping my forehead with a
cool cloth. So close I could see the pink tongue dart in his mouth, he peered into my eyes.
     “I was with my father,” I said, unthinking. My mouth would not form a clear word. The lamp-light
flickered over the apprei walls, which sighed and groaned in the dim.
     —“You were, in truth, elsewhere. We will be within the appreida by sun’s rise. Three days you have
been unconscious, with precious little breath mov-ing in you. And yet I found this, here by your side,
when none have been within but I. I have not left this apprei between the time I last examined you, when
there was no such thing here, and just now, when you with your screaming roused me to look again.”
Hael held in his hand a blue-white pulsing, jagged-edged. It nestled innocent in his palm, glowing. I oould
not see the• black filaments within it from this distance, but I knew they were there, floating, waiting. I
shuddered. I would have run, had I had the strength to move.
     “You do not know it! Do not hold it so, against your naked flesh. Wrap it in something, tas-, parr-,
apth-hide. Put it away! Wrap it and put it in the deepest pocket of the roomiest saddlepack among the
Nemarsi, and make sure that it lies not near the flesh of man or beast!” My words came out of me a
hissing croak.
     Hael dropped the crystal. It bounced, upon the Parset rugging and rolled toward me. I stopped it,
unmoving.
     “Get the skin!” I demanded, not taking my eyes from the blue-white helsar. Already it brightened,
close to me. That it was mine, I had no doubt, nor did it. That I had somehow brought it with me, against
my will, was impossible. It was here be-cause somewhere inside me I wanted it.
     The dharenex—of the Nemarsi, rushing to do my bidding, dropped a thick apth wrap over the
glow-ing helsar and made it fast. He then picked the thing gingerly up by the thongs and packed it
carefully in his own saddlepack with great atten-tion to its position. Only when it had been finally seated
among the bladders and Eiraziers, pincers and pillows, rolls and wraps of his store, and the lace lashed
tightly shut, did he turn to me.
     Sitting cross-legged by my head, he offered me water, lifting my head that I might drink.
     “Why? What is it?” he finally asked me. We were both suddenly aware that it was not as a dharener
he had done my will, nor as a crell had I ordered him.
     “Call it a toy, if you will,” I answered him. “A toy of a race such as is your Tar-Kesa, and nothing to
be held, in the human grasp. Give it to him, upon his altar, if you will. I arn,sure the receipt of it would
bring him pleasure.” And I was sure. I met Hael’s eyes steadily, demanding his recognition.
     “You do not believe in Tar-Kesa?” he said to me, in question form.
     “On the contrary.” I steadied my voice, that it might somehow match my gaze, rather than my
quaking heart. “I know he exists. I respect and revere him. I do my best to keep his laws, and out of his
way.” I tested my arms’ strength, gauged it sufficient, and sat up, drawing my knees around me. The
creamy Parset web-cloth slid down to bunch across my thighs. I was not cold.
     “What harm could it do, this god’s toy?” the dharener pressed me.
     “It could engage you in its teaching, forever and ever. It could drive you mad. It could suck all the life
from you without your notice, pleasantly, so that you went more and more to its use and your death. Is
that sufficient?” All truth and no lies had I told him. But the helsar was so much more; a primal catalyst,
the seed of a universe yet unborn. I rubbed my hands on my arms, loving the feel of flesh against itself. I
have a horror of being with-out this tactile sense of being, and I had been three days removed from my
body and its needs.
     Hael shook his head from side to side, hand wandering in his beard.
     “How do you know all this? Do you know the thing’s use and purpose, and what is to be gained
from it?” His black eyes were keen, the nictitating membranes flickering back and forth in his
excite-ment.
     “Ask Tar-Kesa,” I suggested. “What I know of it, I have told you. It could do you great harm.” I did
not tell him that another’s attempt to use the helsar could put me in very real danger. Doubtless the link
was already made between us. I could feel it, warm, waiting at the edge of my perceptions, I had no
choice now; I must use what I could of my
     Mi’ysten skills. Perhaps I had been fooling myself, since my return, that I could do without them. If
one is the first of a group of children to learn to walk upright, one does not return to crawling for the sake
of the group. One walks upright, and is sooner apprised of danger and better able to meet it.
     The dharener stood abruptly. I could hear the whispered voices of the jiasks as they began
dis-mantling the apprei around us. We faced each other in awkward silence. I could feel his mind gently
probing. I snapped up my best Mi’ysten shield, smooth and shining. There it had been child-weak,
useless. Here it was more than sufficient. Hael pursed his lips. I reached out through the shield and met
his, in my own turn testing. Day-Keeper he was, and adequate. I saw there a great agitation and .
intricately wrought defenses, about what seemed to be, in part, concerned with me. To read what is
consciously hidden, one must get the thought to the surface.
     “If you try the helsar, dharener, see that your sorting is strong and free from fear,” I advised him
softly. And there it was. What I had sought, he considered in his excitement. Monitoring my mind while I
lay unconscious, Hael had seen more than he would have chosen.
     “The key, then, is in the sort?”
     “You must have the sort to get there,” I conceded. “Sort” is a forereader’s term for the stochastic
process, for isolating the probabilities available from a specific moment in time.
     The jiasks had one of the apprei walls rolled and were starting upon another. The night showed clear
and star-flecked, the moon nearly full and low over the Sabembes. Hael snatched up his saddle and
hefted it upon his shoulder. The fully dis-tended packs almost dragged the ground.
     “Walk before me,” he ordered. I did this, through the jiasks kneeling about the stra framework of the
apprei, toward the large darker shadows that must be the hobbled threx. There was hard, stony ground
under my bare feet, and mountains towered both to my right and my left. Hudged us to be well north of
the dead sea, where the tail of the great Yaica range parallels the Sabembes.
     There was a great thudding and snorting and clinking. Chayin, phantom upon his dark-dappled Saer,
circled the plunging beast around us. Moon-light sparked off my father’s cloak in the darkness. Foam
from the animal’s tossing head sprayed my arms and face; small stones from his hooves pelted my naked
legs as he danced in place.
     “Bestir yourself, brother, or we shall miss our only opportunity for bloodletting this night!” And he
laughed down at us while Saer walked a dozen steps upon his hind legs, wheeled him toward the north
star Clous, and was gone.
     “What mean you, Chayin?” Hael called to the empty air. “Fool,” he groaned softly, his free hand on
my back, guiding me among the threx. As he threw the saddle over Quiris’ back and cinched it, I asked
what was in my mind.
     “Did the sword really b.reak upon the square?”
     Hael grunted and thrust his knee against Quiris’ black belly as he tightened the straps around the
threx’s distended middle. The animal let out its breath in a whoof, and Hael got the girth a hand’s length
tighter.
     “It did,” he said his back to me. It shattered into splinters. But for that, the throw was the same.
Small chance, that such could be the case. Even another woman was forthcoming to replace the one we
moved to the ebvrasea’s square. The time is deathly tight.” He moved around the threx to fasten the
breastband to the cinch rings.
     “And were you so sure it would break, to take such a chance?”
     “Am I so sure of you, that I do not bind you?” he retorted. It was true. He had not restrained me.
My hands were free.
     The dharener’s head appeared above Quiris’ back, and he regarded me sharply.
     “I had to judge the truth of the board. How else but to test it?”
     “And if you were wrong, if the yris-tera was wrong, what then? Do you love the truth so much, or
your brother so little?”
     “It might have been better, had I been wrong,” Hael replied in a strange tone, and came around to
Quiris’ head, with the double-bitted head gear in hand. “You have seen how he is, how the jiasks are
around, him. And he is in one of his better times. A man should not live with such pain, His agony touches
us all. Our destiny lies in his hands, and those hands support him forever dangling from the edge of the
abyss. One day, soon his grip will weaken, and he will fall_ It is my charge to see he does not take the
whole of the Nemarsi with him!”
     “I do not understand,” I said as he finished check-ing straps, boosted me up forward of the saddle,
and swung up behind me.
     “Chayin is a forereader,” he continued, turning Quiris on his haunches and setting him at a run after
Chayin’s dust trail, just visible far ahead like low-riding fog. “He suffers from the forereader’s disease.
When he underwent Tar-Kesa’s testing and took the cahnclor’s sword, he had not yet had a woman.”
Foreseeing ability first becomes obvious at puberty, never before, and often not until some little while
after. “Once he was invested, nothing could be, done, for the chosen of Tar-Kesa is all-knowing.” He
sighed and shook his head. “There was no peer from whom he could receive instruc-tion. Therefore, he
did not receive it.”
     I considered this. I had never heard of a male forereader. I had been, taught that male drives and the
passive surveillance of the forereaders were mutually—exclusive .. I knew well enough what ag-ony an
untutored forereader’s life could be, for I had been called a latent, and schooled sufficiently to protect
myself, should the talent come tardy upon me. Even with years more training that I had received, working
forereaders face always the grim specter of forereader’s disease. One in seventy, it is said, succumbs to
it and goes irretrievably mad. Now I knew why I had gotten such a chaotic reading from the cahndor;
such confusion, such fear and hate. He saw only violence around him.
     The neras passed under Quiris’ pounding tripart hooves, and soon we were close enough to Chayin
to shout across the distance. Hael charged him to halt and wait for the jiasks to catch up. This the
cahndor was willing to do. In the high moonlight, Saer was white with foam and dust.
     “Know you,” said Hael in my ear, “the book of Khys?” as he slowed Quiris to a walk. The threx’s
muzzle seemed to graze the ground in front of me. He blew dust clouds with his heaving breath. It had
been a mad pace Hael set to catch his brother, who had so great a start, upon a threx carrying a lesser
burden.
     I shook my head. I had not delved deeply into the Ors Yris-tera, which holds the true wisdom of the
board game.
     “The dayglass was upon the board of catalysts, and within aspect of a human piece, the woman.
Thus it works, through her, the will of the First Weather. In the citing of this arrangement of pieces, Khys
said that in such—times a material sign is always given at the outset. And it likens that sign unto starlight.
It seems to me that what we have apth-wrapped within my saddlepack is such a material sign.”
     I could see Chayin’s face, limned by the moon-light, as he leaned his forearms upon the grip of his
saddle, watching us. I felt a stab of compassion for him. He and I faced similar struggles, both with
powers we did not want and information we could not use, and for neither of us was there any
alternative. A male forereader was surely as alone as a Shaper’s daughter on Silistra. And for our
questions it seemed to me then the Day-Keepers had no answers. Somehow, seeing him and know-ing, I
felt less lonely. He struggled to resolve the law within and the stimulus from without, as did I. I sat
straighter, up before Hael upon Quiris’ back. I sent a gentle probe of strength and comfort, deeper than
the cahndor would consciously feel.
     The threx greeted one another. I have often won-dered that such high-pitched sounds can come from
out of those great beasts.
     “I asked you if you saw yourself upon the board of catalysts, “ Hael reminded me softly. Saer
slob-bered upon Quiris. Quiris stamped, tossed his head.
     “Perhaps. But one cannot know •it,” I said.
     “Perhaps one cannot know it, but one can surely do no better than one expects, either,” he
answered, sidling Quiris against Saer until my knee brushed Chayin’s and we were but handbreadths
apart. The cahndor’s face, previously abstracted as he toyed with his reins, changed when his eyes met
mine. I dropped my gaze, wondering what part I played in the endless traps and tortures his mind made
for him, what horrific futures incessantly threatened.
     His hand under my chin raised my face to his, but he spoke to Hael, and his eyes searched the dark
terrain over which we had just passed.
     “Here they come. Good. We will need everyone. If you have a weapon within your pack you might
choose in battle, get it out now. We will catch us some threx with sun’s rising, I think.”
     Hael said nothing.
     The cahndor reached back and unlaced one of his own packs and pulled forth two short gol-knives.
He put one in his belt and handed the other toward me, almost absently. Had reached around me to take
it. Chayin snatched it back.
     “Not for you. For her. She will not use it upon me. She must use it, though! So I have seen it!” And
he pointed at me.
     “No, Chayin,” said Hael gently. “You cannot arm a crell. And what against?”
     The first of the jiasks sighted us and slowed his beast to a walk. I could make out the forms of three
others.
     The blade was still in the cahndor’s outstretched hand. The moon played tricks upon his face, and he
had but dark holes for eyes. He leaned back in his shadow, tossing his head like an apth with sand in its
ears. Then, once more he offered the blade, and his voice was strong and sure and clear.
     ’it is no matter what you think, Hael. I am apprised of what is to come, and in time you will be also.
You shall not gainsay me. It is your life I would protect.”       —
     I took the gol-knife. Hael did nothing, but I could feel the muscles cord in his arms. The jiasks were
almost upon us, with their uncanny silence. It would be better to show an armed crell to them than open
discord. Hael would rather take the chance that I would turn upon him than expose Chayin’s
indisposition to the cahndor’s death-sworn men.
     “Arm yourselves, and make all haste. Look well about you, for our enemies steal triumphant through
the night. Upon your lives I charge you. Regain what is rightfully ours!” And he jerked Saer cruelly
around and sped off toward the north. Quiris, anticipating his master, leaped to follow. Hael did not stay
the threx’s headlong flight, but turned to peer behind him into the dark. My gaze followed his, and I saw
the knotted jiasks milling in a ,circle; then the circle became a line of twos, and that line followed in our
dust. Hael reined Quiris into an easy lope, fast enough to keep Chayin in sight, yet slow enough that the
leading pair of jiasks soon came abreast of us. Quiris tossed his head and fought restraint, his ears
flicking.
     “Is the veil again upon him?” the jiask upon Hael’s right shouted. •
     “I know not,” Hael called back. Quiris leaped a shadowed depression before us that did not suit him,
I was thrown violently forward at his jarring impact upon the far side. I hugged the threx ‘s neck, and
Hael’s hand upon my shoulder gave me aid as I righted myself. If I had fallen, then, with the jiasks’
mounts racing to pace us, I would have been pummeled lifeless by those metal-shod thun-dering hooves.
     “Keep as close as you can, but not upon us! Be ready!” ordered the dharener, and his flat hand
came down hard upon Quiris’ croup, and the black sprang away from the other threx as though they
stood grazing upon sweet jer grass.
     I had not imagined Quiris capable of such speed. The night roared around us as he strained to catch
Saer. But it was not so easy to draw abreast of the cahndor. Slowly we gained upon him. I could see
Chayin’s arm rise and fall upon his mount’s bunched quarters. Almost imperceptibly we closed the
distance, Quiris’ superior stamina telling as the ground blurred by. A northern threx would have died of
burst lungs long before Saer’s rider slid him to a halt atop a rock-strewn rise in the cold moonglow.
     “Another nera, and I would have caught you!” called Hael as he brought. Quiris alongside.
     “I know it,” Chayin allowed, his eyes searching the flatlands ahead. Nothing bigger than a pandiv-ver
could cross that open ground unseen in the bright clear night. “Back down the slope, that they will not see
our outline!”
     Hael did this, and set our sweat-slicked threx walking in a long ellipse that he might not injure its legs
standing still while so badly overheated. Chayin paced us.
     “Only some few enths remain until sun’s rising, and the appreida is but thirty neras from here at the
most. Where is your enemy, Chayin?”
     “Even now they sneak stealthily through the webweavers’ appreis with their loot. This is the place
where we will meet them, upon the plain, when the sky is greened before sun’s rising. It is as I have seen
it. We are only early enough to rest the threx. We wait here.”
     I heard Hael sigh softly. His body seemed to slump slightly in the saddle. We walked the threx and
waited.
     When the jiasks were all among us, Chayin set them to likewise walking their beasts in circles. He
would not suffer them to dismount and charged them to maintain their readiness. Then he himself
dismounted and crawled to the top of the stony rise and lay there, his head nestled upon his arms,
watching.
     After a time, we went to join him, leading Saer and Quiris as close as we dared to the ridgetop and
tethering them to the scraggly harinder bushes that grew there in relative profusion. No harinder bush or
even puny boulder was upon the plain below us. Nothing moved. I lay between Chayin and Hael, looking
over the rise. I knew stinging embarrassment for the cahndor. He would be much shamed before us all if
no foe appeared upon the plain, An enth passed, and still nothing stirred upon the silent expanse before
us. No yit squeaked nor friysou cried. The sky was lightening, a presag-ing green haloed the peaks. The
jiasks whispered and grunted behind us. There was much restless—
     “There!” Chayin whispered. I sighted along his outstretched arm and could barely see a dust cloud
rising. At first I thought it just a trick of anxious eyes, a quiver in the predawn light. Hael pulled himself
forward an arm’s length, as if that short gain would bring the distance into clearer focus. A thousand
breaths did I take, and still the dust cloud grew upon the horizon. Hael wriggled back the short distance
he had gone from us. His face as he looked past me to meet Chayin’s eyes was pain-ful to look upon in
his joyous relief. He reached his left hand across me and grapsed Chayin’s shoulder, his fingers making
valleys in the Shaper’s cloak the cahndor wore.
     “Let us go down and do battle, brother!” the dharener said, and suiting action to words, has-tened
down the slope in a crouch.
     Chayin put his hand upon my arm. “Go with him. May your gol-knife quench its thirst this rising.”
And he pushed me gently before him toward the others.
     As I mounted Quiris, and Hael swung up behind me, I entertained thoughts of death. Perhaps I could
slay the dharener, make away upon the threx in the confusion of battle. The helsar was in Quiris’ pack.
But I, knew, somehow, that I would not.
     Silent were the jiasks as single file they made their way over the rise and down the slope, to--gether
waiting in the dark pool of shadows at its base. Soundless, recurved swords of stra and steel were drawn
and held low, that the glint of them might not warn our approaching victims. And still the dust cloud
enlarged and the greening moved higher and higher in the sky, until the dust had dark shapes within it, and
those shapes resolved themselves into mounted threx, a dozen or more.
     And whispered orders formed the five pairs of jiasks into a spear point, with the cahndor and
dharener at its tip. So close they were that I could see they carried neither spear nor shield, and still the
cahndor did not stir his waiting men, though his arm was raised pointing to the sky. As I raised my eyes
to his hand, that I might see the signal given, another thing, and strange, did I see. A M’ksakkan
egg-shape glowed silent, like some speeding creamy comet across the sky: a Liaison’s ship surely, for no
other may fly the gravitic-drive that hovers through the skies of Silistra. And yet there was no port in the
Parset Lands for such a craft, and none due north, from whence it came. It danced for a mo-ment
motionless over the plain, then veered north-east and was gone. Chayin’s hand came down. As one, the
jiasks of the Nemarsi swept down upon their prey.
     Barely had I time to steady my seat after, Quiris’ first leap and ready the gol-knife in my hand,
be-fore we were’among them. Crouched low on Quiris’ neck, that I not impede the dharener’s longer
blade, I found my knife of use first upon the gaping mouth of a threx who sought to clamp his jaws
around my arm. Its pupils glowed gold and huge in white-walled eyes rolling in that deathly head. I split
its nostrils, and it reared away in agony, giving the cahndor clear strike at his opponent’s armorless chest,
which he made with the ease of a man slicing cheese. The first rays of the sun color-glowed the plain and
fired the sparking swords, and the whole world was blood-soaked. I saw for a mo-ment the fallen jiask
before I followed him, tum-bling upon the corpse as Hael’s mount kicked out with both hind feet at a
new tormentor and whirled to meet an attacker coming up from behind. I disengaged from the corpse, up
and running, lest I be trampled by the beasts as they tried to savage one another. I saw a riderless threx,
unable to escape, so close-quartered was the fighting. His lifeless rider was wedged, head dangling
down, between two live combatants’ threx. He had no top to his skull, and the gray pulp dripped upon
the feet of the fighting men. Somehow I made my way to its far side, and, unthinking, squeezed be-hind
Saer’s rear. I had just grabbed the mounting strap when I heard a great singing above my head. Chayin’s
sword snicked the head from a man whose own blade was in mid-strike at my back. I dodged the
free-falling weapon and caught it in my right hand by the blade near the hilt. I looked up and grasped
Chayin’s arm as it was extended, to me, and he all but threw me upon the riderless threx’s back. Our
eyes met for a moment. He laughed his joy and turned away, still smiling, to seek a new foe. I grasped
the threx’s back with but the strength of my knees and thighs, the stirrups being so far too long I could
not even use the strap loops. I grabbed the reins caught around the saddle grip just as the great dun beast
reared and brought his steel-shod hooves down upon the neck of another threx, who thought to get him
by the throat. And I saw Hael, badly pressed by two foes, Quiris bleed-ing. I slammed the flat of the
short sword against the threx’s rear, and he fairly jumped upon the back of the nearest attacker’s threx.
The man’s head turned, and I saw his startled expression as I plunged the gol-knife in my left hand into
his throat, while his sword arm was raised to parry Hael’s blow. The quarters were too close for the
short sword to have helped me, though I still held it in my bleeding right, along with the threx’s reins. The
gol-knife was gone now, somewhere below in the dust, in a dead man’s neck.
      Hael, free to engage properly his opponent, skew-ered him with dispatch. He brought Quiris head to
tail with my dun threx. I looked around me. I saw only Nemarsi still mounted. I searched for Chayin,
seeing Saer was among the riderless, and felt a great relief when I spied him standing upon the ground
over a lifeless form. He was speaking, it seemed, to a threx. I could hear his coaxing tone but not his
words. The dust slowly settled. Every-where the jiasks were catching up the riderless animals. I did not
see Marshon, the jiask who had taken me to wash in the jer, among them. Hael’s eyes were fastened
upon the threx I rode.
      “A Menetpher!” Chayin called out, holding high a blooded blade.
      A sardonic smile appeared upon Hael’s full lips. His cloak and beard were white with dust. I looked
away from him, at the corpses. I counted fifteen. There was much blood upon the moving jiasks, but no
telling whether it be theirs or their victims’. One limped slowly among the dead. Another, holding a
useless arm, stood staring at the body of the jiask Marshon. The sun’s rising was ruby mist upon the land.
Hael still stared around him, smiling. Chayin snatched up the drag-ging reins of the steel-blue threx he
was stalking and led her toward us. The men’s voices were growl and hiss in their throats, and many
shook their heads to and fro as they collected threx, weapons, and chalds from among the fallen. If a
Parset dies in battle with an enemy of his peer group, his chald is returned to the Day-Keepers by the
enemy, that his death may be entered upon the Day-Keeper’s Roll. Those possessions upon him at the
time of his demise are retained by his killer. There would be a formal rebuke and presentation of these
Menetpher chalds to the. Menetpher Day-Keepers, for the traditional truce surrounding threx meets had
been broken. The Nemarsi who had died victorious in battle fared better. Their effects would be shared
between those in the tribe with whom they had sipped blood. If, however, the Menetphers had triumphed
and left no clue as to the identity of the assassins, all the worldly goods of the fallen would have been
thrown out upon the sand. In mysterious death among the Parset tribes, there is no beneficiary. Thus do
they keep murder from their backs. Only if a man is willing to take up the chaldra, the responsibilities and
family of another, does he raise arms against him other than in war. It the death is unseemly, such as
death at the hand of a chaldless, or while pursuing some immoral end, then also are all worldy
possessions of one so slain cast away, serving no one, that all trace of his ignoble memory be lost forever
and ever, and even his, name be scoured away by the desert. Such are the Day-Keepers’ laws upon the
Parset Lands.
      Hael still smiled, like a proud father at his son’s first chalding.
      “Does death so amuse you, dharener?” I asked him. He grunted.
      Chayin, mounted once again upon Saer and lead-ing the steel-blue threx, joined us.
      My arms were shaking uncontrollably. I pressed them against me.
      “She sits upon Guanden, proudest possession of the tiask Besha, and fastest among Nemarsi threx,
and she wonders why I find the situation amusing. I would have been far from amused had we re-turned
home and found thirteen of our best stolen from under our very noses.” Hael chuckled aloud.
      For a moment, I was with the helsar. The battle had excited it, even wrapped away within Hael’s
pack. It had made use of some of the life energy lost in battle. It was warmer, closer. Then it was gone.
But I marked it stronger.
      “And Besha this way comes,” said Chayin in a distant tone. I searched his face. Now the veil was
surely upon him. His eyes stared, enraptured at what only he could see, while he wiped great toothmarks
of neck with a cloth sticky with dark salve. He must have used it first upon his own arm and shoulder,
and upon a place high over his eye. Through the gel upon his skin one could almost see the blood clot
and dry.
      “There is no solution for what is between us,” he said solemnly to me, proferring the cloth. I took it
and wiped my slashed right hand, where I had caught the sword in mid-fall. I wondered again what the
cahndor envisioned “between us.”
      I rubbed the cool salve upon a long slash run-ning diagonally down my right side from collar-bone to
breast. I did not-recollect how I had come by it.
      “This cloak of yours twice saved me,” Chayin muttered, as if only now remembering.
      I did not answer, but handed the healing cloth to Hael, who had greater need of it than I. A wound of
some depth upon his chest bled copiously, though he had pressed a strip of cloth to it. I moved to dress
his cut, and the Day-Keeper urged Quiris forward and let me attend him.
      “How did you determine them to be Menet-phers?” Hael winced as I peeled away the cloth adhering
to his wound.
      “By this.” He handed Hael a blade he had taken upon the field. “And also did I remember a face
among them, from the battle of Macara last. They wore little that would mark them in their perfidy.” I
could hear the pride in Chayin’s voice, that the time had upheld him.
      Hael grinned at his brother, sharing the cahndor’s triumph. His flesh quivered with pain under my
hand. He examined the blade peremptorily and secured it in his saddle sheath. I slid my own blade into a
similar scabbard upon Guanden’s saddle. The threx tossed its head, and its long bristles rattled. Most
threxmen keep neck bristles close-trimmed; one might otherwise lose an eye should the beast throw his
head high. But Guan-den’s brown bristles were as long as my forearm, and each was beaded, so that
they rattled and flopped as he moved. He bared his teeth and snapped irritably at Saer. He was an
ill-tempered beast, always shifting on his feet, never easy on the bits.
      There was much jabbering among the jiasks, all mounted now, all leading recaptured threx. Upon
one was draped the body of Marshon. Another, the beast whose nose I had so savagely slashed, bore a
similar burden. Two Nemarsi dead. Among the victors there was not one unscathed, but only three
seemed seriously wounded. They clustered their mounts around us.
      “They are all ours!” exclaimed the one whose arm hung useless, blood still streaming down his
shoulder despite a salve-soaked bandage. His face was very pale. “Upon what did, they ride from
Menetph? Think you that like some star-trader they left us their useless splay-footed mounts in ex-change
for the best of ours?”
      There was general dissent at this, and unease in their anger.
      “They chose well,” put in another, whose flesh seemed near unmarked. “Surely there is nothing left in
the appreida worth putting one’s pack upon!’
      I did not mention what I had seen floating high over: the plain, and then speeding northeast.
      “Let us get them home safely, that there be once again threx worth riding among the Nernarsi,” Hael
suggested. “Where there are some Menetphers, there may be more!”
      And Chayin slowly raised his head. He regarded the men gathered close around him as if they were
strangers. Then he nodded and, urged Saer through their midst, the. threxmen making way for him. He
still led the steel-blue female by lièr. reins. Hael’s eyes caught mine, and we threaded our way through the
confusion engendered by so many riderless mounts on leads. The jiasks would have no easy time forming
up with so many skittish beasts to control.
      Guanden effortlessly gained Saer’s left. I had him so tightly held that his jaw rested against his chest.
My arms ached from his constant pulling. Hael, upon Chayin’s right, sent me some hand signal I did not
understand, but seemed to be satisfied when I kept Guanden even with the others.
      I might have then made for the northeast, upon the fastest of the Nemarsi threx. If I could
outdis-tance them, I might go free. Chaldless, but free. And Hael would, have the helsar. I sighed and
tried to find a comfortable position. My knees and thighs were rubbed raw from the constant friction
against the leathers. I spent a time adjusting the straps so I might get some purchase from their loops,
which afforded me a better seat but gave my raw skin another surface to chafe against. It had somehow
become full morning. I looked around ,me, at how the summer sat upon the northern Parset Lands. It
was not as forbidding a sight as the dead sea bottom in the desert, but was precious little green. Even the,
sky had to it a yellow tinge. In back of us the jiasks gave .up upon forming, and led their charges single
file toward home. Mount Opir was , mist-enshrouded to the west.
      There was only the snort and thud, creak and jingle of loping threx under saddle. Nothing else.
Neither Chayin nor Hael spoke. The cahndor was again abstracted, sunk somewhere within, loose and
easy upon his mount. He and Saer were long familiar, and it almost seemed that as he gave more and
more of his attention to his thoughts, just that much more care did Saer use in seeking out the smoothest
and safest route. The reins flapped untouched from the sa.ddlegrip, and Saer judged the way, nose in the
dust.
      I was shaking. My mouth was dry and my heart struggled to free itself of my confining chest. Dur-ing
the battle, I had been only cold, and in a very slow time. It had been as if I watched myself, and the
sound was so far away. Not now. I could yet see the bodies back there upon the, sand. Nemarsi take no
prisoners. They have no word for “prison.” Their only word for captive is “crell.” They were careless of
life, these people, more careless than I found seemly. And I thought of Chayin, and his affliction, and
Hael’s astounding statement that his “charge” (a strong word he used for it, with meaning near to
“commitment”) was to keep the Nemarsi safe from their cahndor. And I had killed a man, for the first
time in my life, with my own hand. A part of me raged, a portion wept, and somewhere else deep in me
was a strong thing that had grown stronger.
      Sparse grass was under the threx’s hooves. Moun-tains rose high and impassable to the west and
east. We rode in silence.
      My mind, drifting free, found Sereth crill Tyris. I sorted for a way that would lead me to him. The
probabilities fanned out before me; scenes from time not yet realized, only a handful I could use. I chose
among them and set my will in motion, that my choice and no other’s manifest in real time. Thus does one
hest the time-coming-to-be and make it one’s own. I sensed the helsar again. It was interested in my
choosing. There was death upon that altered path thus opened before me, but in such a harmonic position
that I felt it not discor-dant. There, had been death upon all the usable futures. It was only a matter of
proximity. At, that time, I thought it all so simple.
      Simple to take that which might be and alter its balance? Estrazi once said to me of hesting that the
weakness is always in the conception, never in the power. But one cannot hear without ears.
      Feeling confident that events would turn to my advantage, I began to consider the intricate
rela-tionship between Tar-Kesa and the yris-tera. I raised my head and spied, above Guanden s bobbing
bris-tled head, the Nemarsi appreida, its banners breeze-rippled on the horizon. And from that direction
was a dust cloud fast approaching.
      I leaned over and touched Chayin on the arm. He jumped. I pointed, and he nodded, grinning. Hael
had also seen.
      When their individual forms were discernible to us, Chayin reined up and waited.
      Hael queried him as to this.
      “I would not meet Besha too close to the web-weavers’ appreis,” he said solemnly, rubbing the back
of his neck with a dust-powdered hand. It was the first time I really looked at him in daylight. His skin
was the color of strong-brewed rana, his form was lithe though not truly spare. There was no hint of the
veil about him. He leaned to me. It was the first time I had seen him grin but in battle. I gathered this
meeting had some of that same flavor to him.
      “In’ the middle. Upon the red threx in the front. See her? The owner of your mount seems anxious to
find him. I expect she will be effluent with gratitude to have him back.” He straightened up and spat over
Saer’s shoulder. His hands were crossed upon his saddle-grip.
     Besha, from a distance, was an imposing feather-draped figure. As the, threx bore her closer, it
seemed to stagger under her bulk. Fully as wide of shoulder and thigh as any man, she sat the beast with
a stiff, imperious manner that caused her beaded feather trappings to flop rattling about. As the band of
ten tiasks bore closer and dropped to a walk, consternation could be seen among them. Besha, blade in
hand, rode straight up to Chayin, only stopping her red threx when the beast was nose-to-nose with
Saer. This close, Besha’s impos-ing figure seemed more due to a general rotund-ness of figure upon
ponderous bones than the feathered helmet and cape she wore. The purples and greens were startling in
the tan-to-brown landscape. Behind her, I could make out the dark shapes that must be the
web-weavers’ appreis. Such are always upon the outskirts of a community. Untutored minds are a
discomfort to webbers and weavers alike.
     “Gaes d’ar, tiask.” Chayin demeaned Besha with the formal greeting. “You stand before me”
de-mands obeisance in reply. Though the tiask speaks first to the jiask, the cahndor speaks first to all.
     Only the lower part of Besha’s dark face was visible beneath the feathered helmet. Her weath-ered
lips twitched. The sword she still held pointed at me wavered.
     “Irat s’es d’or harekte,” Besha replied. “I but kneel before magnificence.” The words came hard
and clipped between her teeth. A friysou cried overhead, winging south to the feast we had provided.
Behind Besha, her tiasks were a line of statues.
     “What do the tiasks seek so ardently in the desert, and in such formal garb this early in the day?”
Chayin queried in his deep, rumbling voice. Besha’s sword drooped even lower as she realized his intent.
She held it barely above the heaving red threx’s ears.
     “You know what we sought, Calmdor,” the tiask hissed.
     “And how is it that this sorry state of affairs has come about?” Chayin’s voice cracked sharp like a
striking huija. “Can I not leave the appreida for a set’s time without fear for the safety of what I would
leave behind me? Must I fight my way home through my enemies, and they turning my own war beasts
upon me?”
     Besha said nothing. Chayin was not satisfied.
     “And where are your brothers?” he continued. “Surely you could have roused a jiask or two, judging
from your lengthy preparations. We met the Menetphers at sun’s rising upon Qadar ridge, and you only
now leave the appreida’s outskirts. May I assume that you raised the alarm before you left, in case more
Menetphers are about?”
     Besha shook her head, mute.
     “Did you count upon us, returning, to intercept the thieves? Surely you did not think to catch them,
upon inferior mounts, when they had such a lead?”
     What could be seen of Besha’s face was as pur-ple as her feathers.
     “Speak, tiask,” Chayin urged. “Your cahndor awaits an explanation. What circumstances are there
that could possibly excuse such negligence?”
     Besha shifted her considerable weight about in the saddle. When she finally spoke, her voice
quiv-ered with temper ill-restrained.
     “We awoke,” she said, “to find them gone, shortly before sun’s rising. So stealthily was it done that
the sentries raised no alarm. Restless through the night, it was I myself who discovered the theft, and
roused these others to give chase.”
     “Who were the sentries?” Cold as the peaks of Mount Opir was Chayin’s voice, and as forbidding.
     There was a movement among the feather-trapped tiasks, and five urged their mounts forward.
     “You,” snapped Chayin at the foremost of the five. “Is that how you dressed to stand your watch?”
     “No, Cahndor. The tiask’s head was so sunk upon her chest that her voice was only a distressed
whisper.
     He waved at the remaining four who had stood the posting.
     “And the rest of you! Were you perhaps so bedecked at your posts?”
     The four hesitantly admitted that they had not been so accoutered.
     “How long did it take you, tiask, making ready to give chase after our enemies?” he demanded of the
tiask he had first questioned.
     The answer was unintelligible.
     “Speak louder, that your brothers and sisters may hear youi” the cahndor commanded ..
     “Perhaps an enth,” the tiask repeated, toneless.
     “You shall, all five, go about your duties naked as the crells than whom you are little better. A set’s
time will you bear this chastisement.” He waved:them back to the others with evident disgust.
     Hael, upon my left, rubbed his jaw with his hand, that his mirth might not peal unrestrained over the
silent congregation.
     Chayin turned his attention back to Besha.
     “I still have not heard why there are no jiasks among you. Could it be that there is such a rivalry
between tiask and jiask that it obtrudes even upon the performance of tasks of this magnitude?” he said,
dorkat toying with yit.
     “I sought my own in the confusion of the mo-ment,” Besha said clearly. Her tone admitted no error. I
could feel her gaze upon me. Guanden stamped and snapped the air as the shifting breeze brought him
the scent of his mistress.
     “Can you assure me the speedy return of these beasts to their stalls, tiask? I would minimize this
ignominy before the people of Nemar.”
     “But give to me that which is mine, and I will gladly return, home, my cahndor. That you set a crell
upon Guanden is all that prohibits my depar-ture.” Besha raised up her, lade, once again point-ing it at
my chest. Nude and chaldless and filthy, my station was obvious to the tiask. Upon impulse I slid the
recurved short blade from my saddle sheath and hefted it in my hand. Hael shot me a warning look.
Besha’s head bobbled.
     “This is no simple crell.” The dharener spoke for the first time. “She is a skilled northern forereader
whom I hold for questioning and eventual disposi-tion back into the lands whence she came. She is my
charge, and none are to touch her but by my order.” What scheme had Hael in his head, that he would
speak for me?
     “Spawn of apths!” spit Besha, her temper beyond her control. I watched her calm herself. “Perhaps
the northern forereader, who has misplaced her chald, who is armed as a tiask and naked as a crell,
might be petitioned to get herself from the back of my threx!”
     Chayin inclined his head and indicated, stern-faced, that I might ride the steel-blue female he led.
     Throwing my leg over Guanden’s back, I slid to the ground, sword still in hand. I handed Guanden’s
reins calmly to Besha, conscious of the stillness and the tiasks’ eyes upon me. It was harder to turn my
unprotected back to her and walk unconcerned those few steps to the steel’s side. Chayin extended the
reins to me, and I grasped them and mounted. It was a relief to be free of Guanden’s constant testing.
The steel stood calmly under me, eyes half-closed.
     “Attend me at mid-meal, tiask,” said Chayin with a motion of dismissal.
     Besha regarded us for a moment. Then she wheeled the red threx, and leading Guanden be-side her,
raced away toward the appreida upon the horizon.
     All, was confusion as the tiasks and jiasks appor-tioned the recovered threx between them. Chayin
dismissed the men also, and there were left only the dharener, the cahndor, and I upon the
sparse-grassed rolling plain.
     Chayin raised his hands behind his head and kneaded the muscles where his neck met his shoulders,
He sighed deeply. The uritheria upon his bicep writhed lifelike in umbers and others. The Shaper’s cloak,
thrown back from his arms, rustled softly in the stiffening breeze.
     Tears of laughter squeezed from Hael’s eyes, and great roars of mirth shook his large frame. The
dharener leaned forward upon his saddlegrip for support, convulsed with amusement. Chayin only stared
after the fast-receding line of threx. There was no humor in him at this• turn of events. His eyes were
narrowed, and he still rubbed his right shoulder.
     “If they tear like that through the web-weavers’ appreis, I will be graced by the company of the First
Weaver,” he remarked dryly.
     “I would have given much to see her face,” Hael chortled.
     “We will see it at mid-meal. For me, that will be more than soon enough. What prompted you,” he
asked the dharener, to so twist the truth as it pertains to this crell whom I have’given you?” And he
started Saer at a swinging walk toward the appreida.
     Hael sighed, wiped the tears from his eyes, and kicked Quiris into motion. My mount followed of her
own accord, quiet, head down, easy-gaited.
     “I but opened an alternative path for us concern-ing her, should we choose to travel it. She did,”
reminded Hael, “strike down the Menetpher who might have laid me lifeless upon the field of battle. I
could not see her helpless before Besha’s anger. Perhaps my expressed interest will stay the tiask’s hand,
although yours would surely have had that effect.” His, tone was wry. “Have you ever,” he continued,
“seen another upon Guanden’s back?”
     “No,” Chayin allowed, “I have never seen it, before this day. I had hoped that I might continue to see
it, but she was remarkably restrained.”
     “That probability,” Hael confided, “occurred to me also. However, that which is meant to be will
come in the fullness of time. Those things destined to meet cannot be held apart indefinitely.”
     “Like a certain sword and specific flesh.” And Chayin finally smiled, his white teeth bared just an
instant.
     It was a slow and easy pace we kept across the stony-soiled barrens of Nemar. As we neared the
appreis of the web-weavers, there appeared before us an old, old man, in the middle of the cobbled way
between the weavers’ tents. He was shaking his fist and jumping up and down in agitation. Upon his
shoulder danced his webber, itself so old that some of its sensory hairs were white.
     Chayin winced when he first spotted them, but made no move to avoid this new confrontation. He
headed us straight for the slight, wizened figure, and halted so close that I could see the filmy mem-branes
that seemed to be permanently across the old man’s eyes. The grizzled webber on his shoul—
     der stared at me with emerald eyes and clicked its sable mandibles together. It was as wide across as
my body at the waist, and two of its eight legs were wrapped about the weaver’s throat.
     “I cannot allow it!” the old man screeched, a raspy whisper of a scream. “I cannot allow it! Chayin!
Is that you?” He came close and peered up into Chayin’s face. “Can you not control your people?
Would you like to come in and see? See what they have done with their curses and their clatter and their
awful thumping of the ground? Would you?”
     Chayin reached down and put his hand upon the old man’s arm. “Calm yourself, Tenager. You will
put a snarl into the weave yourself. T’nis is sorely disturbed.” And it was true. Colorless fluid dripped
from the webber’s underside, and its leg hairs were stiffly extended.
     “My boy, you must do something about control—
     ling your army! There is a place for peace and quiet upon this land, and it is here! Let them race
elsewhere. Who will, stand the reparations? Who, I ask you? Twice in one day is too much to bear!”
And the webber upon his shoulder clicked to up-hold him.
     The old man’s noise had drawn several other web-weavers to the doors of their appreis. They stood
there, blinking in the daylight, with that elsewhere look upon them so common to their trade. Each had
been wrenched from that inner world of beauty that is the domain of webber and weaver. Silent, they
only watched us. It is said that among themselves they might not speak a single word for years unending.
     Chayin was still sbothing, leaning down to whis-per in the old man’s ear. What he suggested calmed
the old weaver visibly, and he scuttled off to the shade of the nearest doorway, pushing a young weaver
girl within.
     The cahndor straightened up. We rode forward. When I looked back, I could still see one of them
staring after us.
     Once past the web-weavers’ appreis, of which there must have been a hundred, the collection of
ambiguous shapes upon the horizon separated themselves and became perhaps a thousand appreis of
varying sizes. I was shocked to see so many. Here and there, towering stone edifices pointed spires to
the sky, and between the appreis many cobbled ways extended in geometric perfection. The threx’s
metal-shod feet rang against the stones. To my far right stood an imposing structure hewn from the solid
ornithalum face of a cerulean cliff that loomed sheer and forbidding a nera high into the skies of Nemar.
The appreida covered the whole valley floor between those cliffs in the east and the craggy feet of Mount
Opir and the Yaicas in the west. Upon those feet I could see great patches of cultivated fields, bright
green, yellow, and a brown-ish purple, and the irrigation ditches of stone that fed them. In the center of
the valley was a large and obviously manmade reservoir. I had never seen it upon any map.
     I recalled that once there had been no valley here to connect to the Sldrr in the north. This depression
had been blasted from the mountains in that terrible explosion that boiled away the Parset sea and made
desert out of much of the surrounding land. A long time gone since then, more than twenty-five thousand
years, but the cliffs recollect the event, as does the still, dry sea to the south.
     “The summer quarters of the Nemarsi, Miheja.” Chayin used the crell name he had given me upon
the desert. He veered Saer sharply to the right, taking an easterly thoroughfare, the surface of which was
riotous with stylized stone mosaics.
     “You ride upon the Way of Wings,” Chayin said, his pride unconcealed. “Only the Way of Tar-Kesa
eclipses its beauty!” And as I looked around me at the great winged beasts upon the avenue, I real-ized
that the apprei panels, grown larger and more ostentatious, repeated this theme of flying beasts. Not only
of this world were those creatures who danced beneath the threx’s hooves. Uritheria was there also; and
Cathe, winged slitsa; and the ei-jos, the five-named human spirit, was limned in fire tones against the
blues and creams of the way. I raised my head to speak of its beauty to Chayin, and tapestried pyramids
leading in greater and greater magnificence to the thrice-towered keep hewn into the ornithalum cliff left
me wordless.
     “Is it as beautiful as the keeps of Astria?” Chayin asked.
     I had to admit that it was.
     “How can you bear to leave it to roam the desert, Cahndor?”
     “We summer here, take the autumn in the east, the winter in the south, and the spring upon our lands
in the west. To own a thing, one must, make use of it. We are never all in one place, but most of us make
the yearly pilgrimage. If I knew not the welfare of the south with my own eyes, how could I presume to
see to it?”
     Looking at the imposing appreis of priceless web-weave, I tried to imagine tiered foundations empty,
stra stanchions, some as big around as my waist, collapsed, and the valley deserted but for a hand-ful of
stone buildings, watercourses, and the half-wheel of pictorial ways spreading from the, eastern cliffs
across-the valley floor.
     “Do all the Parsets do likewise?”
     “Menetph, Itophe, Coseve, and even decadent Dordassa still retain that much grace of spirit,” he
informed me.
     There were the noises of gregarious life, and children upon the ways. Masked and concealingly
dressed women stared at us. Men in, gossamer jewel-toned cloaks leaned together against stachions and
whispered as we passed. Some stopped what they were doing entirely to watch. For the first time since I
had sorted for my future, I felt again captive.
     I was afraid—afraid that I had not truly seen, and thus that the events upon which I waited would not
come to be. It is a forereader’s fear. I deep-read Chayin. Perhaps it was his doubt .I felt, for his affliction
made him ever doubtful. Perhaps it was his fear, and not my own. Forereader’s ill-ness brings one tenors
of one’s own creation, mas-querading as owkahen, the time-coming-to-be, through which the forereader
ever sorts the safer, snore fertile path.
     And as I reached into the cahndor’s mind, he was himself busy sensing. His mind had sought the
dharener’s while Hael attempted to penetrate the helsar.
     We stood in one another’s subjective present, invader and invaded all at once. I broke the link.
     Hael reached over and gently slid the blade from my saddle scabbard. His face was guarded.
     “You will not need this, among the crells,” he said. The wind from the abyss carried his words to me.
I shivered under the bright hot sun.
     The threx crossed a wide bridge of dressed orni-thalum as we made our way into the cerulean court
before the cliff.
III. Crell
     Before the first of a. hundred broad steps up which one might mount to the palace of Nemar North,
Chayin halted the threx. Atop a grisly scene of a wounded dorlcat rended by friysou, armed men with
short storm-blue capes crowded around to attend their cahndor. Among them was a tiny woman,
covered all over but for her bejeweled bulging child-belly. Just left of the steps was a sheer high wall that
had set in it two barred rec-tangular openings, each twice a man’s height and wide enough for three
threxmen riding abreast.
     Hael came to the steel’s side and helped me dismount. I was chaldless among them, and the indignity
of my state stiffened my movements and flushed my flesh.
     Hael gave orders. Two jiasks hustled me to the farther of the barred doors, and it was slid aside from
within. I looked back and saw Saer’s rump just disappearing into the other passage. The dharener was
speaking earnestly to the tiny preg-nant woman, upon whom his arm rested. Chayin stared after me. I
would have stopped. The men pushed me roughly ahead, around a bend to the left.
     Specific instructions had Hael given them con-cerning me. My meal schedule was to be “four,” my
work status “seven,” and my designation “ten.” I was to be quartered in section one My eyes adjusted to
the torch-lit dim, and I saw numerous turnings, some with barred gates. Where there were gates there
was always one or more short-caped jiask. It was cool in the passage. The stone under my feet was
smooth and all of a piece. The jiasks’ footfalls and the clink of the metal they wore echoed around us.
     When I lost count of turnings, they stopped be-fore a barred gate identical to the others I had seen.
The attendant roused himself from his cross-legged doze upon the cool stone and accepted me from
them, sliding the barred door aside to admit us.
     He picked up my wrists and examined them critically, then bade the two with me await him.
Grumbling, he retired to a small chamber cut in the tunnel wall and returned with a selection of metal
wristlets joined by some few links of heavy chain.
     “She is a ‘ten’ you say? Pity,” he said to the jiasks. “Hold out your hands, Go on! You have come
this far. Now is no time to be difficult!”
     And I did, and he fitted my bonds to his satisfac-tion. His short, stubby fingers were gentle and
efficient, his dark eyes not unkind as he met my gaze. He then led me, with the others following, as Hael
had instructed them, into what I would come to think of as the crellpits. The large chamber was empty,
the crells being at their daily labor. It was low-ceilinged and almost featureless. At certain places upon the
floor were grates that opened onto some lower level. At other places, large rings that accommodated a
number of chains were set into the stone.
     I wondered what it meant, to be a “ten,” as the crellkeep chose a spot seeingly like any other upon
one chain and fastened me to it by means of heavy metal anklets that were spaced along its length.
     “I put you next to Aje. You will, sleep through the nights,” he informed me, as if I should be grateful
for some thoughtful service. Seeing me safely ‘bound, the two jiasks turned and left the chamber.
     “What is your name?” the crellkeep asked. •
     I almost told him, and caught myself. It took me a moment to remember the crell name Chayin had
given me.
     “Miheja,” I said finally.
     “Mi-he-ya,” the crellkeep corrected me gently. “The East-most Star’s Daughter. Suits you. So you
have the dharener entranced, do you? A ten, indeed. Crell life is no burden to one so highly numbered.”
He stood up, rubbing, his back, “I go to get Aje. You will like him. They all do,” he said, and pat-ted my
naked shoulder. Moments later I was alone in the deserted, ever dusk’of the crellpits. A single torch
burned in the chamber’s entry, throwing life into the featureless rock walls.
     I crawled the length of my tether, and by, lying stretched out could just get my fingers upon the central
ring. ,I tested its strength; as had countless crells before me. There was no weakness in it. I
     had expected none. I then examined each link of my chains with my fingers, to see if perhaps
some-where there was one unsoldered among them. There was no error among the 387 links that bound
me firmly to the central ring. Its twin was sunk where the cold stone floor met the wall behind me.
Per-haps there was a weakness in that area, but I had not enough tether to explore it. I lay down upon
my left side and curled my knees against my chest. I could not think. I. merely lay there.
     After a time I heard shuffling feet, and I was glad there was life in the world. The crellkeep entered,
and I sat up, to see beside him a naked blond man who wore upon his wrists crell chains. He was, taller
than the crellkeep, and his body had the angular bulk and stoop of long, arduous labor.
     Grunting as he bent down, the crellkeep snapped the metal anklet nearest mine around the blond
man’s left ankle.
     “This is Aje. Meheja. Aje is a neighbor on your chain. You will breed. Then I will feed you.” He
turned to walk away.
     “No,” I said.
     The crellkeep turned in mid-stride. The man be-side me raised an eyebrow.
     “You must be bred,” explained the crellkeep, standing over me. “We cannot have you later claim-ing
pregnancy by the dharener.”
     “Hael never touched me.”,
     “Oh. Someone must have. You are crell. You must be bred after any, contact with your masters.” He
was getting an edge upon his patient tone. “You will breed, and then I will feed you.” And he went to
stand in the corridor, that we might have privacy. As if that made any difference.
     The man called Aje put his hand on my arm. His pale eyes were friendly; his pale hair fell over them,
shadowing.
     “Come, now, let us get this behind us,” he said in a low voice. “Things get no better for a crell. It
need not be unpleasant. I have some little skill.” But even in that dim light I could see that his body had no
great interest in mine.
     I drew my legs up around me, clasping my arms over my knees, shaking off his touch. I said nothing.
     “I am Lalen gaesh Satemit, musician of Stra, “ he offered. I did not answer. The crellkeep coughed in
the passageway. Aje sighed and drew his own knees to his chest, regarding me over crossed arms. His
chains rattled. I thought I would start scream-ing and, never stop.
     “That is all we have to give each other,” he said finally, in an intimate voice. “Our real selves, which
the Nemarsi deny us. Who are you, Miheja the crell?”
     If I had told him; he would have understood. His eyes searched my face, and for a moment I thought
he knew me. The moment passed. He sighed and reached out toward me again.
     “Before he comes in here and stands over us, lie down!” he said urgently. He pushed me backward,
and Ilet.myself fall, and lay there until I had been officially bred. I heard the crellkeep grunt to him-self
with satisfaction and lumber away.
     When he returned with two hot bowls of binnirin gruel, Aje still held me. He stroked my hair and
pressed my head against his chest, and little by little the tension drained out of me. It was a great
kindness.,,
     The crellkeep put the bowls upon the floor and departed. It was another little while before the
light-haired crell bestirred himself, kissing me upon the crown of my head and raising me up with him.
     He made the polite compliments that might be between two free people at such a time. It was strange
to hear them. I put my hands around my bowl. I wondered if the place were truly cold, or if it was an
inner chill I felt. I pressed closer against him, for warmth.
     “The crellkeep will be bringing the others in soon. How is it that you are the dharener’s ten and have
not lain with him?”
     “I do not know what a ten is. I was with Chayin, before he gave me to Hael. It is very complicated.”
     “Good. We will have lots of time. Besha will not want me tonight. She has problems with the
cahndor. I am also a ten. Tens spend most nights with their owners. I do little stonework anymore.”
     I wondered that he knew so quickly of Besha’s encounter with Chayin.
     “I will tell you about my capture only if you will tell me those things which I desire to know.” I could
hardly have cared less at the time.
     “Anything, if I know it.”
     “First, about the tens, and second about what occurred in Arlet two years, three pasks back. More
specifically, what transpired there between a Day-Keeper and a Slayer. I have been told this is common
knowledge, but it is knowledge I do not have.” And at that moment there was a stabbing brightness
behind my eyes. For a second I could not see, only afterglow. It was Hael, with the helsar.
     “Are you unwell?” His voice was solicitous. ‘ I told him I would .survive. I hoped I would.
     “I know only hearsay, but Khemi, who is upon my left on the chain, was, I think, in Arlet at that time.
I was crell even that long ago.” His soft voice was wistful.
     “And about the tens?”
     “The tens eat better. Their work, whatever it is in nature, is reduced in hours. It is a number of favor.
The jiasks and the tiasks and the crellkeeps will treat a ten better. Prize your status. You can go no
higher. You have a work number. What is it?”
     “Seven,” I answered.
     “With the threx,” he informed me. “It could be much worse.” He rubbed his hands together. Those
hands when upon me had little of a musician’s touch to them. They were scarred and twisted and rough.
The room again exploded. I saw a thousand lights.
     ‘Do you think the dharener will call you this night?” he asked. I almost laughed. I pulled away from
Aje, running my hands through my tangled hair. My upper lip was beaded with sweat, though I had been
so recently cold. I could see an overlay of another room, faint but real as I looked around me. Hael had
unwrapped the helsar and sat before it.
     “I said, do you think the dharener will call you?” repeated Aje.
     “No,” I said. “I do not think he will.”
     “Tell me about what occurred on the desert,” Aje suggested.
     I did so, and while I was in the telling, the crelikeep brought groups of crells in and fastened each in
place, until there were fifty-three of us in all. Then food brought, by two crells on a, rolling board was pA
 sPd around. Our old bowls were collected, and Aje and I were fed again, on the heels of a meal.
g


     I moved to send my bowl back ..
     “Keep it,” Aje hissed. “There are some who do not get enough.”
     I kept the bowl, continuing my story. I did not tell him how I came to the desert.
     On my one side was Aje, upon my other only empty chain. Beyond him sat dark-eyed, dark-haired
Khemi, and behind and beside us the rest of the fifty-three. They talked and joked among them-selves.
They shared their food, and some even laughed aloud .. I could not see that they had any-thing to laugh
about. The cool stone under me was becoming clammy; the press of flesh warmed the air. Aje took my
untouched bowl from me and sent it down the line.
     With the helsar, Hael got nowhere. I sensed his agitation, and a cessation and darkness as he
cov-ered the thing once again.
     I breathed an inward sigh of relief.
     “That is all, save we came straight here and the dharener assigned two men to deliver me.” I was
finished with my account. I had paid little atten-tion to telling.
     “Did you see a woman upon the court?” Khemi asked.
     I said that I did, and described her.
     “And was the Nemarchan affectionate to the cahndor, father of her child?” There was petulance in
her tone.
     “More likely to the dharener,” Aje put in.
     “I only saw her speak at all to Had,” I clarified. There was much interest in the affairs of their owners
here among the crells.
     “Aje, will you fulfill your part of the bargaih now?” I asked him, lest the moment be lost. He turned to
IChemi, who lounged upon her side, her bracekted leg crooked.
     “Tell Miheja what you know of Arlet, when Sereth became past-Seven and Vedrev gave himself up
to the chaldra of the soil,” he bade her.
     And Khemi looked at me curiously, but started the tale.
     “I know not all of this story, but I shall tell you what I saw and what was told to, me,”said Khemi in a
musical voice. “On Macara first fifth of that year, when I had been wellwoman precisely one year in
Arlet, it came to pass that I put down my duties to go into the hide bast beneath the Well, and study there
the forereaders’ way. If I seem bitter in this telling, it is that I too lost something in the common hall upon
the .first sixth of Jicar, when the floor ran slick with Arletian blood.” Khemi sighed.
     “Hence I was below ground the whole time that Estri, Well-Keepress-of Astria, was in Arlet. I never
saw her, but rumors of her doings reached us even so far beneath the Well. It was said, to me by my
sponsor, who was close to Vedrev bast Iradea, that some great crux wind blew around her affairs, great
enough to involve the learned northern dharener himself.
     “At that time there was in Arlet a new Liaison, IChaf-Re Dellin by name. In fact, he and the Mtrian
Keepress arrived together, and it was said that Dellin had more interest in his traveling compan-ion than
in Cekndra, who was Keepress in Arlet then, Dellin was a strange Liaison, with stranger ways than the
old. It was said he was close to Sereth,, Seven of Arlet, and closer with Ganrom, who might sponsor him
for the Slayer’s chain.
     “This is only rumor,” she continued, “but it is said that the Keepress of Astria bested Celendra at
gol-knife upon their first meeting. It is also ru—
     mored that some little interest sprang up between Estri and Sereth crill Tyris, former couch-mate of
Celendra and father of her only son, Tyith. And it has been postulated that this, coupled with the indignity
Celendra suffered at Estri ‘s hand in the circle, and Dellin’s relative indifference, greatly angered Celendra
bast Aknet.” Most of the crells had grown quiet, listening.
     “Whatever the truth of it, it came about that Sereth crill Tyris was tithed by the Liaisons and
commanded by Vedrev to get this Astrian Keepress to the Falls of Santha, that she might look upon an
     —artifact there and discharge some chaldra.
     “Now, Sereth, Seven of Arlet, was a man who heard his own voice only, and one not easily
or-dered about. He and Vedrev had in the past found numerous occasions for altercation between them.
And the Liaison Dellin, by trying so desperately to please everyone at once, soon found himself in the
middle between them, and between Estri and Celendra also.” Khemi shook her head, remember-ing.
     mid-Macara there was Feast of Conception for Genisha and Jerin of the Slayers. A man of Baniev,
wearing the clothes of a Morrltan, died a mysterious death during the night. Its cause was never
determined. The tension was thus height-ened all around, for we waited to see if such awful death would
come again upon the land.
     “Perhaps because of that, the Seven decided to take his one son, Tyith, apprenticed for the Slayer’s
chain, with him upon the trail to Santha.
     “When Celendra heard this, she locked herself in her keep and ‘commenced a fasting and a keening
that lasted a full set’s time When she once again opened her door, she went straight to Vedrev and
demanded an inquiry into what had occurred upon the trail. Vedrev answered her that it was doubtful
they even reached the falls by that day. Celendra then informed Vedrev that her son was dead, that she
had seen Sereth, in a vision, bind the boy up in a brist pelt and throw him into a great crevice. And that
he had failed to protect Estri of Astria, who was lost now forever to the spirits beyond, and that Sereth
had killed four chalded men and ‘left them, their chalds upon them, for the hulions and the harths. I know
this, because it was to my lecture hall she came, and demanded Vedrev at once attend her will.
     “This the Day-Keeper did, leaving us thirty would-be forereaders in the learning hall, waiting.
Celendra’s unquiet voice rang through the hide corridors, and in our ears, as she charged Sereth with all
the un-Sevenly acts I have mentioned, and more besides.
     “Vedrev tried to calm her, but the seeds of doubt were planted in his mind, and he went himself upon
the trail to the Falls of Santha, taking with him Ganrom, Celendra, and at Celcndra’s bidding, the Liaison,
for it had passed between Dellin and Celendra that they would take the one-year couch-bond traditional
between Keepress and Liaison.
     “One who should have known once said to me that but for this, pledge to Celendra, Dellin would
have stood for Sereth in his need, and had that been true, things might have taken a different turn. But he
did not.
     “Let me point out that at the time Celendra first approachedVedrev, it was with forereader’s
knowl—edge. It was her forereading Vedrev trusted, and as it proved true in some things, it seemed true
in all. It was her forereading that destroyed Sereth.” Her voice was wistful, and I knew she saw him
before her eyes, even as I did.
     “Just upon the plateau of Santha,” Khemi con-tinued, “Vedrev’s party. found some badly savaged
bodies.
     “Embedded in the chest of one of them was a knife with the Seven’s device engraved upon the hilt.
There was the Slayer convicted before trial, for he had not collected the chalds of his dead.
     “The body of Tyith was not among them. Celen-dra demanded—that they press on, and the
dhare-ner’s party continued, until they found their way was blocked by a great crevice in the earth,
Deem-ing it impossible to pass over the chasm’s width or around its length, they turned themselves
around and headed back to Arlet. The,fact that the crevice was as Celendi-a had described it was
enough for Vedrev.
     “By this time I had finished my seminars and was released to my wellwork for a pass, to put what I
had learned in the hide into practice upon the customers.
     “It was market day in the Inner Well, first first of Jicar. Vedrev and his party were still in the
Sabembes. Sereth crill Tyris came riding through the gates with a coin girl at his side, and she upon one
of his finest threx. Tyith was not with him, nor was the Keepress of Astria.
     “I was standing with a chalder near the outer gate. I had long coveted the Seven’s attentions, and
always greeted him when the opportunity arose. He had in the past often stopped to speak with me. This
day he did not stop, and his face was awful to look upon. He rode straight to the hostel and
disap-peared within, taking the coin girl with him. He did not even see to his threx himself, but handed
them without ceremony to the slayer at watch. What more eloquent statement of something sore amiss
than Sereth crill Tyris, not caring, for his prized racing stock?
     “There was a great buzzing in the Inner Well that day. Sereth had brought a coin girl into Arlet. None
dared to question him, but behind his back the people wondered aloud at his brashness.”
     “And where was Tyith? And the Well-Keepress of Astria?”
     “It is said that Sereth called then upon Vedrev, and finding him gone from Arlet, and Dellin and
Celendra and Ganrom also, was apprised of what had occurred by some Slayers whose loyalty he still
retained.” Khemi coughed, shifting in place.
     “By Vedrev’s order, the Seven was confined within the halls of Arlet until the Day-Keeper’s return.
There were few among the slayers who would have moved to restrain him, should he have chosen to flee
to the south or west. But Sereth was a proud and arrogant man, and he told his fantas-tic story before his
men, and a great many of them believed him. He did not flee, but settled himself and his coin girl into the
Slayer’s hostel to await Vedrev’s return.
     “On Jicar first second did Vedrev, Dellin, Celen-dra, and Ganrom return out of the Sabembes, to
find Sereth, Seven of Arlet, there awaiting them.
     “An open hearing was set for the first sixth, four days hence, within the common room of Well Arlet,
that all concerned might attend. The hall was so crowded with the Slayers of Arlet that I could only find
standing room in the back.
     “I saw Ganrom and two other Slayers of rank lead the Seven in. They passed so close to me, I saw
the tears in Ganrom ‘s eyes. Nor was he the only one among the Slayers so moved. Sereth walked
between the two, Ganrom just ahead, mak-ing way through the crowd to the makeshift dais. He wore his
formal leathers and the Seven’s sword, and his chald lay shining around his waist, that it might be easier
for Vedrev to strip him of them.
     “Open hearing or not, the outcome of it was long decided, and all knew it.
     “The Slayers of Arlet were by this time polar-ized into two ‘groups: those who believed their Seven
and those who were for some reason or another glad to see one so mighty brought low. There were
weapons aplenty in the common room of Well Arlet that day.
     “The Seven were brought to stand before Vedrev, upo’n whose right was Celendra, and upon her
right, the Liaison Second. It became very quiet. I squeezed through the crowd until I was, parallel to
them, between a number of restless Slayers. Vedrev read the charges. He presented the chalds he had
found in the Sabembes. He asked if Sereth denied that he had killed those men and left them chalded.”
Water was passed, and Khemi stopped and drank, her dark hair falling, over her shoulder.
     “Sereth admitted to that. Vedrev then presented Celendra’s allegations and asked the Slayer, to
produce, if he could, Tyith and Estri, or explain their absence.
     “Sereth crill Tyris told his story in that chill voice of one who has done so many times and has no
hope of being believed. He spoke of the crack that opened before them in the earth, of the malig-nant
spirit that assailed them, of Tyith’s death and Estri’s disappearance beneath the Falls of Santha.
     “At his, mention of Tyith, Celendra threw herself upon him, scratching and shrieking, and Dellin
needed the help of two Slayers to get her from the common room. He did not return.
     “Vedrev, resplendent in his Stothric priest’s robes, stood on, the dais. He said that be shad seen the
crevice and no man could have crossed it, and therefore all after that point was. mere fabrication: He
asked again of Tyith and the Well-Keepress. Sereth stood with his head bowed. Vedrev repeated his
charge of negligence, unseemly murder and misuse of power and sentenced the Seven to be stripped of
all rank and cast chaldless from the gates of Arlet, never to return. Then Vedrev pulled out his curved
Stoth blade to cut, away the Seven’s sword and chald. When Sereth saw this, he raised his head, and his
own sword flashed in his hand, and he cut the belt from Vedrev’s waist with an easy flick.
     “I did not hear the words of his challenge to Vedrev. The common hall erupted in a roar around me.
Some Slayers drew their blades to disarm the Seven, and others to restrain them, that Sereth and Vedrev
might have what each other had long desired of the other. In moments, death whirred over my head and
all around me. There was sword-play everywhere in the great hall as Slayer turned against Slayer. Those
who supported the Seven hacked their way toward him, drawing me with them. A Slayer held me against
him by the neck as he fought, a human shield. And a good one. None struck at me. I could see anguish
upon faces of men suddenly enemies, of men who had slain friends with whom they had this day ridden. I
saw two, recognizing each other, put up their swords. One was struck down from behind. The other
knelt in the frenzy. The stone slabs were slippery with blood; men skidded and fell. I saw one fall onto a
blade and die there. I saw Vedrev dead, and Sereth leaping bodies toward the door. The Slayer still
dragged me before him. Out into the Inner Well we went, and from somewhere threx were produced,
and, like a number of other wellwomen, I was captive of the renegade Slayers until they had rid-den the
night long into the south. There I was dumped with no ceremony by the side of the trail. I did not see
Sereth at any time once out of Arlet, but I have heard he lives. I would not tell any more, for I do not like
to remember what followed, and I have a long day ahead tomorrow.” And Khemi smiled a shy smile and
turned upon her side with her back to us, not knowing what effect her words had upon me.
     I was glad for the darkness. I lay down upon my back and stared blindly at the ceiling.
     Aje’s hand touched my hair. His chain, rattled as he shifted his body closer to me. His arm went
around my shoulders.
     Khemi’s story, though distorted in gossip and retelling, doubtless had truth to it. It was strange to
hear about myself in the third person, and about these affairs from such a different perspective. I rolled
against Aje in the darkness.
     How could Dellin have behaved in so unprinci-pled a manner? I thought bitterly of the M’ksakkan,
for putting Celendra’s goodwill and the trade bal-ance in Arlet before his own honor. Perhaps he had
none. I could understand Vedrev, for he and Sereth had long been at odds. And Celendra was either a
disastrously incompetent forereader or a vicious liar, though I had never seen her as either.
     And Sereth—who could help him now? He had slain a Day-Keeper, a dharener even worse. There
would be no straightening out of this tangle by a simple explanation. Estrazi had told me both of us were
needed to set the balance aright. But to what authority could we take a plea? And upon what grounds?
     How different things would have been if my father had allowed me to send my word to stand for the
Seven. What purpose could be served by Sereth’s ignominy? I worried these thoughts into nightmares
that had no sense and no ending.
     I. was awakened,by the crellkeep with the others, and went to my first day of crell life upon an empty
stomach. Khemi, also on the seven schedule, worked beside me straining the sand in the threx stables of
wetness, and muck. Once a set, the sand must be taken out of each stall, and clean sand put in, its place;
then the soiled sand must be strained and wheeled in carts out the back door of the stable, where other
crells wait to tend to its dis-posal as fertilizer upon certain crops. This was that day. The work was
strenuous, and we were soon filthy smelly and coated with the foul sand, which clung to our sweating
bodies. Once, when water was brought, I looked up, to see Chayin watching me from the harness area,
thirty stalls down the row. He was waiting while Saer was made ready. I turned and leaned against the
stone partition, the water dipper in my hands. I drank slowly, staring back, but he did not look away.
     Khemi got up off her knees and came to stand beside me.
     “Lower your eyes,” she warned me in a soft voice, taking the dipper from my hands and filling it
again. The crell with the water cart fidgeted. “You will bring down his wrath upon us both.”
     “I think not, I said to her, but dropped again to my hands and knees and took up my two-handed
scoop. When Chayin rode out, he chose the long way, which by happenstance brought him past the very
stall where I was working. He stopped Saer directly behind me. I could see the threx’s legs by looking
between my own. I continued to work on my knees, bending over that I might scoop the sand up from
the lower floor of the stall’s doorway. Khemi, inside the stall and facing me, blushed and smiled at the
cahndor, but I did not look up. After a time, he rode’away.
     Khemi and I did our ten stalls each; we were given some grain gruel for lunch, and a quarter each of
a green tuber where we worked. Then the threx were brought in, all filthy from rolling outside, and we
cleaned and polished their hides and picked their tripart hooves and set about their feeding. It seemed as
if no two of them got the same meal, and each special diet had to be mixed by us from great bags of
grains with the—device of Yardum-Or upon them.
     Among the threx we fed were Besha’s Guanden and the red threx whose name I never learned. It is
possible that          somehow mismixed his feeding. I
     think more likely it was some previous negligence.
     We were checking stall locks before being taken to our own stalls for the night, when I noticed the
red was down upon the sand. Low groaning noises came from deep within him; his nostrils were flared
wide and running with mucus. There were bloody chunks upon his bloated belly where he had bitten
himself. I was in the stall in a moment, calling Khemi. In vain did we struggle to get the beast up on his
feet. We pulled him by the head, but though we could drag him up, we could not keep him standing. He
sank back three times, and with a gasping groan upon our fourth attempt he laid his head back on the
clean sand and died.
     Khemi looked at me in horror. I was crying. I always cry over animals.
     “Besha will be furious!” she whispered, her eyes wide.
     “Sheltering wing of uritheriar cursed the jiask summoned by .Khemi’s wails. He in turn got the
crellkeep. Khemi and I were not, taken back to our chain for the night, but kept there in the threx’s stall
to await his owner, ,Besha, my owner, Hael, and Kherni’s owner, the cahndor.
     The crellkeep and the threxmaster were engaged in spirited debate with three jiasks as to the cause
of the threx’s death. They fell suddenly silent.
     The dharener stood in the stall doorway, survey-ing us. I was crouched by the dead beast’s head,
Khemi stretched out on the sand on her back. She sat up.
     Hael put his hand to his forehead and closed his eyes. When he opened them, he said, “Threx upon
the’square of death,” and sat himself down in the doorway, his bearded chin resting upon his fists, his
elbows upon his knees. He stared at us.
     “I am exploring the material sign,” he said to me casually.
     Khemi’s head swung between us as, she listened without understanding.
     “Nothing I cannot survive. Keep in mind that what the helsar sees is shown to me also,” I sug-gested
to him.
     “When are you going to do me the great service yris-tera promised?” Hael inquired. Just then
Besha’s bulk loomed dark and menacing behind him. She stepped over Hael and in three strides was at
her beast’s head.
     “I have seen your face too often,” she said to me, pushing me away from the corpse. I rolled to the
wall near the dharener.
     Having examined the beast, she rose from him and came toward us. Her huge hand came down upon
Khemi’s fragile shoulder, and Besha hurled the crell across the stall, so hard that the girl hit the far wall
and crumpled senseless at its base. Hael bent over the fallen Khemi. Besha came toward me, hands
raised. I could retreat no farther. I put my chained wrists before my face, to defend myself. The tiask
struck my wrists away and slapped my face so hard my temple cracked against the stone wall. I saw
another universe, and sud-denly I could not breathe. I curled into a ball. My back exploded in white pain.
Kicks rained upon me where I lay.
     Far away, I heard voices. Eventually I could see the sand beneath me, and I was conscious that they
moved me. I remember being carried into the dim crell chamber and locked into place upon the chain. I
remember Aje’s voice, but I did not answer. I found no sleep, but worked as best I knew how within my
body to ease it. A part . of me raged and paced. After a time, I was conscious that the crellkeep came for
Aje. Besha wanted her plaything. Aje paid a heavy price that he might be a ten.
     When I felt no pain in me, I lay gaining strength. I had almost calmed the raging within, when Aje was
carried into the chamber by two jiasks. The crellkeep scurried along beside them, carrying a torch, and in
the torchlight upon Aje’s body I saw for the first time what a Parset huija can do to human flesh. The
steel-burred lash had torn mus-cle and sinew from the crell’s chest. I wondered, as they chained his
ankle, if he would live.
     The jiasks who had brought him departed. The crellkeep remained, standing over Aje, holding the
torch high. His face was sorrowful. I too felt some sorrow.
     As he moved to lower his torch, I lured the crellkeep toward me with artful moaning. He knelt beside
me, setting down his torch upon the stone .. As he bent closer to examine my face, I opened my eyes,
smiling while I slid his knife from its sheath. My chains, rattled as I plunged the knife between his ribs.
The crellkeep fell upon me in his death agony. I took the keys from his slitsa belt, removed my wrist
bonds, and unlocked the mana-cle from around my ankle.
     Many of the crells had seen. Some were sitting up staring, but none said a word. I tossed the key ring
down the line. I wished Khemi had been there, so I could have freed her. She had not been re-turned
with me this night. I leaned over Aje. He needed skilled attention. I had not much in healer’s skills, but I
took precious moments to do what I could.
     The crell who caught the key ring did not free himself, but laid it down, regarding me levelly.
     I looked down at myself, and in the flickering torchlight saw what he saw—that I was ’ covered in the
crellkeep’s blood.
     “Free yourself,” I urged, him.
     “Why?”
     I looked around me. My chain-mates appeared uneasy and frightened. They were not happy with
this choice I offered them. I looked at Aje, once Lalen, musician of Stra. I did not understand the mils’
indifference.
     “I need someone to get me to the court. I do not know the way. Is there not one among you more
oppressed by this life than afraid to flee it?” I spoke that the moment might match my vision.
     There was one. I got the keys from beside the crell who would not use them and threw them down
the chain to the dark, curly-haired man standing. He unlocked his bracelets, freed his ankle, and came to
stand beside me, the keys in his hand, rubbing his wrists.
     “We will need these for the gates.” He hefted the key ring in his hand; grinning around him. “None
else for a clean and easy death?” he asked them. The wind blew in his husky voice. His white teeth
flashed like a carnivore’s.
     In an easy motion’he had the torch and the dead crellkeep’s weapons in his hand. He dragged the
crellkeep to his vacant place on the chain, then, motioning me to follow, slipped into the corridor.
     I followed, wondering if I could move in such silence, down the corridor and into the crellkeep’s
cubicle before the barred steel gate. There he sconced the torch and rummaged in a deep wooden chest.
     “If you are in for the small wager, would you stay in for the great?” I whispered to his back.
     His curly head came up from out of the chest, followed by his arms, in which he held assorted
weapons and belts. Among them was a huija.
     “What mean you?” he said, tossing all but the huija and a short blade at my feet.
     I knelt down and chose a sword belt with a light blade and a gol-knife that suited me.
     “I would exchange a friendly greeting or two with the tiask Besha before I leave this fair land,” I
explained, rising.
     “Hold the torch for me,” he said, and I did, as he fitted the key in the lock and slid aside the barred
gate, which he then locked behind him. He took the torch from me and discarded it.
     We sidled down the corridor, pressing our backs against the smooth stone.
     “So you would see my mistress,” he grunted, jumping from out one shadow into another. Around the
corner, he awaited me, his head flat against the corridor wall.
     “Did you hear something?” His voice was harsh. I strained my ears.
     “I hear nothing,” I said.
     He laughed. “We will both be hearing things soon. We will be here sneaking about at sun’s rising, at
this rate. And you would seek audience with a tiask! If I sought out every Nemarsi who has laid hands
upon me, we would be still here next Detarsa.” He turned his head, and our faces were very close.
“Where would you expect to find her, this time of night, after such a busy evening?”
     “She is your mistress,” I reminded him. He chuck-led and sprinted off down the corridor. I followed
him down that one, and then to the left and past three, and then to the right. There we halted. I gasped
for breath. He whose name I did not know pressed me back against the wall.
     “Up those stairs, “ he whispered, “are the kitchens, and among them one room where food and drink
are always provided. They often go there to while away the time. She goes there, when her irascibil-ity
invades her sleep. But remember that the Nemarsi use all twenty-eight enths of the day, and others may
be there also. Men right out of the desert often have trouble, sleeping through the night.” And he did not
ask after my fears, but took the stairs in a dozen leaps. These corridors were larger, muffled with
tapestries, almost well-lit. He silenced me when I tried to speak, and shook free the huija in his hand.
     Then he simply stepped from the stairwell into the middle of the corridor, the huija slithering like a
living thing beside him. I tightened my clammy grip upon the gol-knife and followed.
     After a time of aching silent progress, we stopped, just short of a wide-open doorway on our right.
From within, light, sound, and the smell of baking bread poured forth into the corridor.
     “What better could we ask?” he whispered as we peered within.
     The room was intimately lit, and L-shaped, and through three high windows I could see the spent
evening sky, the stars fading away. There were a number of plank tables, all deserted save for one, at
•which sat Besha and a jiask unknown to me. Across the remains of a meal they leaned toward each
other, engrossed in earnest conversation. It had been their low, angry voices we had heard out in the
corridor. The kitchen help clattered about, somewhere around the far corner.
     My companion touched me upon the arm and walked boldy through the doors. The sound of my
body’s movements was deafening. My skin prickled, my mouth was dry, yet the soles of my feet seemed
slick with sweat. My eyes upon Besha s broad back, I sheathed the knife and drew the short blade at my
waist, for I was reminded of her girth and reach, and knew I must keep my distance to keep my life.
     They did not look up until, standing a man’s length from them in the aisle between the tables, my
companion spoke. •
     “There is a certain fitness, Diyjar, in meeting death, upon a full stomach,” and the huija flicked out
even while the jiask Diyjar was drawing his sword and still rising, wrapping itself around the blade. My
companion snapped his wrist back, and the jiask’s blade skittered across the stone floor. Then again did
the huija strike, and the jiask wore no longer gol-knife or scabbard at his waist.
     Besha stared, her recurved stra blade wavering, her eyes going from my companion to, myself and
back again. She took two steps backward, then held her ground.
     My companion had the jiask backed against the wall.
     “Speak my name and petition me for your life,” the curly-haired man suggested to his terrified victim.
     “I know it not,” stammered the perspiring jiask, “but leave me my life, and whatever is: mine shall be
yours.”
     “You no longer have what I want. You had it once, and it was named Mera. Remember me now,
jiask?” And the horrified realization was still on the jiask’s face as the deadly huija curled hissing about
his throat and snapped tight. He slid lifeless down the wall, to crumple upon the floor, his neck at an
unlikely angle.
     The dark man knelt over him and pulled the burred lash away from the flesh in which it was
embedded. He turned and regarded us, coiling it carefully in his hands.
     “Carth .” Besha’s voice was uncertain. She searched for a commanding tone. “Give me that, and
naught shall come of this.” She, held her free hand out to him.
     He shook his head, grinning.
     “I will not hurt you, mistress,” he said “I stand here only to see that you two are not disturbed.” And
he hunkered there over the corpse, the huija in his hands.
     Besha turned to me, and her eyes were blazing with fury. Her dark lips curled back from her teeth,
she made a great number of allusions as to my probable parentage and the condition of my fe-male.
parts.
     She advanced toward me,, thrashing the air with her blade. Now that the moment was here, I could
think of nothing to say. I had not the knack for talking and killing at once.
     I think I somehow expected my companion to dispatch Besha for me, knowing that I desired it. But
he had taken me at my word, and only watched as I retreated before the bulky tiask, trying some-how to
get a sense of her. She bellowed with every new leap, and her cuts descended right to left and ascended
always the same way. She sought by sheer force to batter me to the ground, but her bulk made her slow.
I danced and jittered to keep out of her reach on those furious downward swings. Each time, my blade
met hers, my arm was rocked in its socket. I sought to score her while the inertia of her cut left her open,
but she caught herself and ripped her own blade up my side. I ducked a clumsy attempt to cleave off my
head, and blooded her sword arm. My ribs burned.
     I fled around the table from her. She huffed and wheezed. No longer did a steady stream of filth run
from her mouth. I caught;sight of my compan-ion, grinning, as I whirled out of the way of Besha’s longer
reach. Her thrusts became predictable, but my arm was leaden from her concussive parries, and sweat
ran into my eyes and blurred my sight. As I retreated before her, I suddenly grasped the double-eight
pattern of her tiring sword arm. I could not last much longer. I could barely keep her spark-throwing cuts
from my breasts.
     I feigned a stumble, and landed rolling. She flung herself through the air toward me, thinking to crush
me under her enormous weight. I closed my eyes in that final thrust, that I might not see my ending. Besha
impaled herself with such force upon my blade that it was torn from my hand. Her ponderous hulk
thudded to the stone beside my head, so close that her great thigh landed upon my face. Only a
handbreadth of misjudgment, and I would have been dead beneath her. I lay there and trembled, too
weak for a moment even to lift the flaccid weight of her thigh from me.
     I heard the snap and hiss of the huija, andscram-bled to my knees. My companion stood between
me and the doorway, and in that doorway were a number of jiasks, and the dharener of Nemar.
     Without thinking, I rolled Besha’s corpse and retrieved from it the weapon that had so fully served
me. The tensed muscles knotted and twitched in my companion’s dark back as he made the huija dance
and writhe on the azure floor around him.
     I knelt there over Besha a moment, despair and triumph chasing each other around within me. I
wiped the blade on my naked thigh and went to stand beside the curly-haired man. I could hear at our
backs the buzzing of the kitchen help, who peeped around the corner. I wondered where I had gone
wrong in my sorting, and then, not even that mattered to me. I stared at Hael, who leaned non-chalantly
against the doorframe in breech and belt only His arms were crossed over his chest, and he seemed
pleased with himself. I wondered what they would do to us—two crells who had slain Nemarsi and been
caught while still about it.
     “We stand upon the swirl of change, past the dying threx, and the sword has found its destined
scabbard,” he remarked.
     I failed to see what bearing yris-tera had upon this moment.
     “Shall we go now and see the cahndor?” he asked, bestirring himself from the wall to approach us.
The huija hissed and cracked. Hael stopped. His face was calm. The jiasks, six of them, stood waiting in
the doorway. There was no escape for us.
      “You will have to take this from me, dharener,” I warned him.
      “Retain it,” Hael said. “And you also.” He spoke to my companion. “Retain your weapon. But coil it
up and come with me to the cahndor.” Such an odd smile the dharener had upon his face.
      I chanced a sidelong glance at him who held the huija. In his eyes was a dawning understanding. He
pulled up the lash, coiling it carefully, metal burrs meshed inward. I touched him.
      “What means this?” I whispered.
      “That we may yet go free,” he said in a low voice. “It is a chance only, if the Day-Keeper means
what he implies. But we have no other.” And he put his left arm around my shoulder. I sheathed my blade
and let my companion propel me toward the door.
      My gaze met the dharener’s, but he gave no answer to my questions, only walked beside me on my
left. The jiasks melted from OW —path and fell in behind, us.
      Down numerous corridors and up three flights of stairs we went, and upon each level the corri-dors
became more opulent, the hangings more beautiful. Torches here were frequent, and cush-ions appeared
in windowed alcoves curtained with vibrant web-weave, draperies rippling in the pre-dawn breeze.
      We came to a pair of carved thala doors, and the dharener disappeared within, leaving us with the six
jiasks, who watched us warily, silent.
      After a time, Hael returned and ushered us into the cahndor’s presence.
      The cerulean room had carved pillars, and layer upon layer of blood-tone rugs, and eight paneless
windows that kept a hundred gossamer web-cloth panels constantly in motion. There were many
cushions, and some low tables upon which were heaped uncountable items of valued Parset clutter.
      Amid pillows, two women slept, naked, and their skin shone with oils. Scents I had not smelled since
Arlet were soft on the air, and I was minded of Celendra’s keep, so long ago.
      Chayin wore a sunset robe loose about him. He had lit an oil lamp and set it upon a low stand amid
the cushions.
      “Join me, tiask,” he said softly, indicating:a place by his right. My companion had to push me
forward. I was speechless. I collapsed before Chayin, thinking of my filthy state. The wound upon my
side still bled fitfully. I felt rather than saw the dharener and my companion seat themselves.
      “You have done us a great service, though no greater perhaps than that done you by this crell whom
you so recently aquired.” The cahndor turned his unblinking stare upon my companion. “I am sure that I
speak for your mistress when I offer you whatever you desire that is within our power.” Chayin looked at
the nameless one inquiringly.
      My companion regarded his hands for a time. Then he raised his head and spoke.
      “That message which I came here bearing so long ago has been by other means delivered. He looked
at Chayin, and his manner was not that of a crell’s.
      “That which has been lost,” he continued, “cannot in this world be regained.” He turned to Hael, and
his voice held censure long restrained. “I wore when I came here the arrar, chald of the messenger.
Anywhere else upon Silistra one who bears upon his very skin the glyph of service would have
pro-tected and succored me. You cannot serve two masters, dharener. What has gone before will be
noted by him who sent me here.” And he turned back to Chayin, giving Hael no chance to answer.
      “I want only my chald and a mount, and suffi-cient weapons and provisions. I return to the northwest,
      “It is done,” Chayin agreed. “I will even send two jiasks with you to the borders of the Skirr.”
      “It is not necessary,” the curly-haired man demurred. I had lost all thread of understanding.
      “Hael, see to these things,” Chayin ordered. The dharener and my companion stood.
      The curly-haired man put his hand gently upon my head. “Blessings, small one, and success in all you
do.” He bent and kissed my forehead. “When you come to the Lake of Horns, seek me there,” he said
softly.
      “And after whom shall I inquire?” I asked.
      “I am Carth, only, in service to the dharen.” This last was a whisper. “Not even tiask Besha dared
give me name other than that.” And he straightened up and was gone out the doors with Hael.
      Chayin stretched and rubbed his neck. A smile played about his lips. He extended his hand to me. In
the corner, one of the women moaned in her sleep.
      “Explain to me,” I pleaded softly, my hand in his.
      “Surely.” He chuckled. “Besha is dead. She has been killed either by a northern forereader whom
she was willing to engage in single combat, or by a crell in ignominious and unseemly death. If it were
admitted that a jiask and tiask had been bested by two mere crells, we would invite trouble.” He ticked
his points off on his fingers. “Also consider that in unseemly or mysterious death, all possessions are given
up to the desert. That would include the threx Guanden, and our hopes for the race at Frullo jer. So
either you accept Besha’s chald and be tiask in her place and ride the race at Frullo jer, or we will kill
you, quietly and with all formality, so that in single combat the threx Guanden will pass into some jiask’s
or tiask’s hands.”
      “So I do not win my, freedom, as Carth did,” I
      said bitterly. I understood only that. “The flasks will never accept me.”
      “Besha was high among them. You outrank all but nine others if you take up her chald. She was a
woman with many enemies, but by your works they will accept you. Frullo jer looms ever closer.”
      I thought that over. A strong sweet breeze ruf-fled the hundred hangings.
      “You could never be sure of me,” I said.
      “Nor you of me. But nothing is sure in Nemar. And there are times when even the self cannot be
trusted. I give you life and a kind, of freedom.” He leaned closer to me.
      “Win for me the golden sword at Frullo jer!” His black eyes gleamed. “Make true my vision, and I
will serve you in kind. We both twist the time around us. Let us combine our strengths, upon one
common objective after another!”
      “I do not twist the time, forereader. I but move within it.”
      Chayin laughed.
      The woman moaned again, and I heard the rus-tle of her body turning in its sleep. I thought of
Khemi, once a wellwoman, and Aje, who lay bleed-ing from Besha’s abuse. If I took up Besha s chald,
all that was hers was mine, Aje included.
      “Hael says it will go this way. I see it. Why not accept this life for a time? And more that I could offer
you!”
      “If I do this, will you help me find Sereth crill Tyris?” I bargained.
      “I would rather do any other thing.” He leaned back in the cushions, stroking his chin with his hand.
      Hael came through the double doors and closed them behind him.
      I looked at Chayin questioningly, awaiting his word.
      “Win for me the golden sword, and I will put you before him within a pass,” Chayin promised in a
strange voice. “I would have, at any rate,” he added.
      “Do you two still delay the inevitable?” Hael interrupted.
      “No. In that moment I decided. I stood in ac-cord with my sorting. This was the way. “Send
someone to my crell Aje. I want him whole and well, and no crell labors upon him. I will be your tiask
and uphold whatever chaldra is involved,” I committed myself.
      “After you are officially chald-bound as tiask,” the dharener temporized.
      “This moment, I insisted.

Clearing the Way
    The spear and shield together upon the red, what is needed, on the board of catalysts. [1]
    The armed man, by his own design, serves the will of the Third Weather.
    He sees around him decay, and hastens to make reparation.
    The shield keeps his council, and the spear is indefatigable in his service.
    At such times it is unseemly for a man to do other than what he chooses.
    He need not question the fitness of his actions, for his left arm bears the shield of
righteous-ness and his right the spear that clears the way.
    His actions are precipitous without folly.
    All that he touches turns to his purpose, for he is in harmony with the time.
    Under the influence of Clearing the Way, a man not only serves himself, but his brothers also.
    There is no adjuration.
    The spear and the shield together are the mani-festation of the Third Weather in the material
world. The man bearing them turns his strength to the cause of a maligned leader to whom his
heart holds allegiance. There is no error in this, not even in laying his weapons at the leader’s
feet.
    The time of Clearing the Way obviates all previous assignations. When the spear and shield
are offered willingly into the service of one who is capable of bringing order out of chaos, they
will certainly triumph.
    Even should he offer up his own volition into the bargain, the commitment would not be too
great.
    —Khys, the Second Appendix, hide-year sixty-three

IV. Tiaskchan
     I lay in the warm scented bath, and neither the healing water nor the skillful ministrations of the two
crells Chayin had roused from their sleep to attend me could ease my mind. I stared upward at the mural
ceiling, into the tropical fantasy fo-liage that had never grown in Nemar. The morn-ing’s breeze blew
through gold-green web-cloth panels, and one of the sleek-skinned girls added another steaming kettle of
the herbal brew to my sea-green archite tub.
     I rose dripping, and went to lie upon my stom-ach on a padded bench, that the crells might knead my
aching muscles, dress my wounds, and anoint my skin with the precious oils of the south. I would take up
the chald of Besha when the sun stood high. So it had been decided by the dharener, before he went
upon my bidding to see to Aje.
     When I had, in Chayin’s presence, demanded return of the helsar, the dharener refused me. He
would go this very day to the hide aniet, directly after my enchalding, and he would take the helsar there
with him. I objected. His retort was that I might ask him again after Frullo jer. Then he turned to Chayin
and informed the cahndor that he would take the Nernarchan, Liuma, with him. Chayin opposed this for
the safety of his child-to-be that Liuma carried. Hael replied that because they took the undertunnels,
there was no danger. I thought it less odd at that moment that the dharener would command the cahndor
as to the disposition of the cahndor’s couch-mate, than that Hael would speak of the undertunnels, secret
ways through which the carriages of the Day-Keepers move at dizzying speeds from one hide to the
other.
     But Chayin, for his own reasons, was then agree-able to what Hael proposed. When the dharener
was gone from us, he bid me make ready for the ceremony, after which, he promised me, we would take
a meal and he would answer what questions he could of mine. We would have time for this, since by
custom a new tiask spends her first night with her cahndor, that her loyalty might be ad-judged by him
and a firm basis for cooperation established between them.
     The girls’ hands were efficient and gentle, but the muscles in my shoulders and back were beyond
their power to soothe. I sighed and sat up.
     They dressed me in makeshift fashion, for I am smaller in frame than Nemarsi women, though as tall
as many. They combed and bound my thigh-length hair, and put over my head one of the feath-ered
masks of which tiasks are so fond. Around my shoulders I wore a cloak of slitsa strips worked also with
plumes and beads, and under it a simple wrap of white silk, for there had not been time to have proper
tiask’s garments made for me. So I stood when Chayin came to collect me; my copper skin and hair
gleaming, all masked and robed in whites and desert colors, but with the dark fires of unease shining out
of me.
     Through the day-bright corridors we hastened, Chayin keeping the silence with which I had greeted
him. He was resplendent in his robes of state, but I thought he must be as warm as I beneath them. His
cloak was thrown back over his shoulders, and the uritheria upon his arm glared balefully at me, intruder
into its domain, usurper and unbeliever among the faithful.
     Around and around we went in the maze of the palace of Nemar North, until we stood finally in the
dharener’s offices in the southernmost tower,
     I 10         Janet E. Morris where the hierarchy of the Nemarsi awaited us. The Nemarchan was there,
impossibly delicate amid these robust people, her ripe, belly wound about with strings of fire gems.
Behind her stood her forereaders, ten of them, and ten from Hael’s Day-Keepers, each accoutered
differently after the lean-ings of his heart. And ten jiasks stood to their right, and nine tiasks to complete
the circle around Hael, upon whom every feather glowed black as deepest night. Before the dharener
burned the chalder’s fire in a great bronze caldron, over which the chalder had arranged the tools of his
craft. Above Hael’s head hung a great tapestry in night shades, upon which uritheria was depicted with
his tail wrapped around the world, which spun upon the palm of Tar-Kesa, whose eyes were two huge
red gol-drops set into the weave. And that form of Tar-Kesa had a familiar glow to it, and a certain
‘familiar countenance that set my heart to scrabbling about my ribs in search of escape, for I knew then
that I stood in the presence of my ,en-emy Raet, with his servants ranged about him.
     And I hardly heard Hael rendi Inekte’s voice as he intoned the ceremonial words and named off to
me that chaldra to which I was henceforth bound, though I could not yet read the Nemarsi chald.
     “And do you take up also the web-weavers’ chald as patron, and swear your sword to their
perpetu-ity and your efforts to their betterment?’ Hael continued.
     “I do so swear,” I answered for the sixth time the same, and the chalder then picked up a strand of
blued iron bound around with web-thread and wound it among the others in the chald he was building for
me.
     “And do you take up also the threx breeders’, and swear your sword so their perpetuity and your
effort to their betterment?” And again ,I answered him the same. When fourteen facts of Nemarsi life had
my word behind them, and when the cahndor’s hand was kissed and my life’s blood sworn to his
service, I stood again on my feet while the chald was bound upon me and the last links made fast.
     Then all present but the cahndor and the dhare-ner knelt down, and the blessing of Tar-Kesa was
invoked upon us. My skin crawled as I received it. I would have sooner received an apth upon my couch
than that one’s word into my heart, as his priest adjured us.
     At the end of the ceremony one of those minia-ture bladders was passed around, and when it came
my turn, I found it to be uris, that drug of which I had had so much in the desert. I blocked the bladder’s
mouth with my tongue, but even the small amount of bitter liquid produced immediate results. Colors
brightened, and I stood suddenly on a high precipice overlooking myself amid the Nemarsi.
     From that vantage point I picked from among the tiasks two who looked likely, by the standards with
which women judge each other. These I deep-read with shameless skill, and what I learned, I put to use
upon them.
     To the first, whose name was Nineth, I gave that which had been Besha’s clothing, telling her that I
could not use them, which was true, and that I thought her to be almost as tall, though much slimmer,
which was not true, for she was easily as wide as Besha.
     To the second, Pijaes, I spoke in low tones of threx, and praised her skill, of which I had heard
nothing, but seen in her mind and her carriage, and asked her advice about the number of con-tracts to
take for Guanden at Frullo jer. Once given an opening, Pijaes extolled to me the virtues of particular
threx bloodlines, until Chayin pulled me gently away to meet his couch-mate, the Nemarchan.
     112           Janet E. Morris
     I stood before Liuma reluctantly, for I had seen her, and it took no deep-reader to mark that though
she carried Chayin’s announced, child, her body and heart were Hael’s. Such situations always bring me
discomfort. I wondered whether Chayin did not know, or knew and did not care. And, after the ways of
a woman, I wondered whose child truly kicked and turned within that taut, dusky, fire-gem-encrusted
belly.
     She held out her tiny hand to me, and I looked into her eyes deeper than sleep and calm beyond
mortal composure.
     “Pre-sti, m’it tennit,” she said to me in the lan-guage of the north, perfect and without accent.
     “And you also,” I said, but in Parset, “feel free to approach me, at your leisure. What have you
within?” I asked the polite question, the answer to which I already knew.
     “A son for the cahndor.” Her voice was velvet soft, but assertive.
     “What takes you into the hide?” I made conver-sation as Chayin left us together, alone in the crowd,
and sought the dharener. Watching him, I again saw the night-dark hanging, with those blazing eyes that
seemed to follow me.
     She turned her head also, to watch her couch-mate. “He is well today,” she commented. “It is not
always so easy for him. Think you,” she de-manded suddenly, “that you can succeed where we have
failed?” Her black eyes had midnight ice in them. So deftly did she turn aside my question, I did not even
notice.
     “I ... I do not know,” I stumbled. “He feels me kin to him through our struggles. He might be right.
Can the bondrex, up to her knees in sucksand, help her brother, sunk in to the hips?”
     ,”Often, even among the bondrex, one is sent ahead to scout out the safer way, that the balance of
the herd not be risked upon untried ground. I
     had thought perhaps you were such. We call them first-come, and I have myself predicted such a
one’s arrival among us. Could it be that you, who match my vision, do not know yourself, nor the use to
which we will put you? Did not He-whose-name-we-will-not-mention prepare His representa-tive?”
     I tried, cautiously, to think of some answer that would not reveal me as less than the Nemarchan
chose to make me, and yet pierce the veil within which she swaddled her words. Liuma made dex-trous
use of the forereader’s cloak, obscurity, and in the dark so engendered. It is easy to fall and hurt oneself.
     I was still trying, my eyes upon her serene smil-ing face, when the dharener came up behind her, and
at his touch upon her shoulder, Liuma melted to him. Again I felt sorrow for Chayin, that such could
occur even in his presence.
     “Chayin will begin your indoctrination. Stay close to him until I return. There is little time before Frullo
jer, and you must be able to comport your-self in a tiask’s manner by then. When I am back from aniet, I
myself will attend your schooling.” Liuma looked adoringly into Hael’s bearded face. I reminded myself
of whose power he invoked to protect his people. How could he go from here, down into hide aniet,
where the philosophy of the Weathers held sway, and feel no ambivalence?
     The cahndor at that moment appeared and steered me over to meet his jiasks.
     “You must greet them first,” Chayin explained, his lips close to my ear. I turned my head to answer
him in kind, and saw Hael and Liuma just stepping out the door.
     “What shall I say?” I whispered.
     “It does not matter, but a tiask is accorded the privilege of first address among jiasks with whom she
ranks equal or higher.”
     1 14           Janet E. Morris
     “You mean they cannot.come up and talk to me at their inclination?” I asked incredulously.
     “You must go up and talk to them at your inclination,” Chayin explained gently.
     “I will find that very difficult. I would rather be sought. How does one avoid importuning upon their
privacy?”
     He laughed. “I do not know. I am cahndor. I speak first to all, and it does not cause me
embar-rassment. You will get used to it.”
     We stood now before the ten highest among Nemarsi jiasks. They were dark, large men. The
gristasha stamp of their ancestors and the Parset nictitating membranes were all that marked them apart
from any Slayers of the north. Most wore only breech and weapons belts; some had lashes coiled
diagonally around their chests.
     And I was introduced to them as Estri of Nemar only, as we had earlier agreed.
     They looked at me, expectant. None said a word.
     “Jiasks, Chayin has told me of the customs be-tween jiask and tiask, and I have much to learn and
much to live up to. I thank you all for confirm-ing me.” I took from my face the tiask’s mask, though I
knew this to be a sign of sexual availabil-ity among them.
      “There is one custom, however, that is so against my nature that I find myself constrained to alter it
between us. As it is said in the towers among which I was raised, I will say it to you, and with like
meaning. At any time, approach me,” and the men looked startled, but their smiles were truly warm and
welcoming as they crowded around me. As we walked, the jiasks, Chayin, and I, to that room where I
had earned my tiask’s chald, I could sense his approval, his relief that the jiasks, and to some extent the
tiasks also, had accepted me. The Day-Keepers and forereaders had been cold and distant, but for
Liuma. They were hesitant to ac—
      cept other than aniet-born among them, although, as the dharener himself had explained to me, there
was a precedent—the mother of both Hael and Chayin, the rendi woman the cahndor Inekte had brought
into Nemar.
      “Chayin,” I said as we seated ourselves at one of the plank tables, “you once said to me that there
appeared no solution for the problem between us. Things seem to have worked themselves out.” His face
grew grim, then regained its former humor.
      “There is not, on the larger scale. We live in a. pleasant interval, where fantasy, for a time, can give us
succor before events strip our pretensions away. Let us enjoy it while we can,” he advised.
      The jiasks and tiasks settled themselves noisily about us, pushing together tables and benches, until
Chayin and I sat at the middle of one great board. Upon my left sat the cahndor, and upon his left the
tiasks, each of whom was commander, or tiaskchan,—of three hundred. Upon my, right was a jiaskcahn
I recognized from our triumph over the Menetphers, and beside him another, who bore a fresh scar the
length of his arm from the battle. The “chan” Silistran root word has been adopted almost unchanged into
the Parset language; only in its division into male and female does it differ in usage from the north. “Will of
is a popular Parset concept.
      None sat opposite me or any other upon that long table, for friends in Nemar sit beside one another,
never opposite.
      As the kitchen help brought great heaping trays of food to us, I looked in vain for signs of my
confrontation with Besha, but not one drop of blood remained upon the seamless ornithalum floor.
      “How i& Khemi, Chayin?” I broke the silence between us. Upon my right, the jiaskcahn heaped his
plate.
      “Who?” Chayin asked, as he served himself, and put upon my plate some greenish meat with a jellied
skin and pungent odor. Upon few of the serving trays did I see food familiar to me.
      “What mean you, ‘Who?’” I was angered that he did not recall her, for she was his. “That crell of
yours, that Besha pummeled senseless over the death of the red threx!”
      Chayin motioned a server to him, and that one ladled onto our plates black lumps in some vis-cous
sauce.
      “There are thrice a thousand crells in Nemar North alone, not counting those who serve in the
fire-gem mines or the uris fields or in maintenance in the west, south, and east. Should I concern myself
with all of them, I would have time for nothing else.” He leaned forward and called down the table to his
left: “Yisri, how many crells did Besha own?”
      The tiaskchan Yisri put down her two-pronged fork. “Around sixty, cahndor. I am not sure of, the
exact number,” she answered.
      “And how many of those are in Nemar North?” Chayin pursued the matter.
      “A score. Of that I am sure;” Yisri replied, puzzled.
      Chayin turned back to me. The tiask, after a moment, returned to her meal.
      “Have you seen to your own crells? Name them for me, and give me a report on their health and
well-being.”
      “That is unfair!” I protested. But he had made his point. I had been too busy even to ask after Aje,
whom I knew was badly injured. I resolved then to do what I could for those crells who were mine. And
there was the matter of Carth.
      “And Carth, who wore the arrar! Is ignorance your excuse for mistreating an agent of the dharen?”
      Chayin sighed and put down his fork. The mus-cles in his jaw twitched.
      “These things are not table conversation,” he reprimanded me, his eyes narrowed, voice low. “I
knew it not. But Had knew, and did as he saw fit. The dharener receives all crell chalds. We will speak
of this later. Attend Our brothers and sisters, and make friends among them. That is why I have called
them together.” He rapped my stra plate with his fork. “Eat your food, he commanded.
     “Thou art my will,” I mocked him, and turned my attention to my plate, as an approving cheer from
the jiaskcahns greeted the arrival of servers with pitchers, and a purple, frothing beverage was poured
into our bowls.
     I pointed to the green meat upon my plate, nes-tled between the black lumps and some yellow
vegetable in red sauce. “What is that?” I asked, “And this, and this?”
     “Tail of apth, a great delicacy. And the black are unborn eggs of kelt. And the yellow the fruit of the
succulent which produces uris.”
     “I am really. not hungry.” I pushed my plate away.
     Chayin grinned and repositioned the plate be-fore me. “Eat!” he repeated.
     I tasted the yellow chunks. They were spicy, not unlike sour name. Gaining courage, I nibbled the
green apth meat, which I found quite tasty, once one got over the source. The eggs of kelt, a smaller
relative of the golachit, I could not bring myself to try. But the cahndor was satisfied. The purple
bev-erage was invigorating, and possessed of a tingly tartness. I drank it down, and a clean-scrubbed,
deferential crell scurried to refill my bowl.
     The jiaskcahns had long been at this refilling of their bowls, and their mood was much lightened. The
man upon my right was telling in a loud voice an exaggerated account of my prowess as it had been
shown to him in our skirmish upon the desert, and in a very, proprietary manner. He put his arm around
me and pounded me upon the back, and another who had been there took up his tale. I did not mind, but
thanked whatever unconscious grace I possess that predisposes men toward my favor.
     I judged it to be late day when Chayin pushed back from his place and rose and stretched mightily.
Long ago had cloaks been discarded, and formal headgear and weapons joined them upon the floor.
Some wagering had been made as to which threx—among the active sires was most well-endowed, and
a number of those present prepared to ad-journ to the stables to find out.
     Chayin demurred when enjoined to accompany them, and he and I took up our raiment from the
floor and walked a different way through the halls until we entered through a well-concealed , door in a
shadowed alcove into Chayin’s chamber.
     He slid the bolt and rearranged the ruby-toned tapestry that secreted this entrance from view. “If you
ever need to come to me unobserved, you now know the way,” he remarked, stripping off all his
trappings but breech, and leaving them upon the floor. I threw upon the pile my elaborate weapons belt
and the feathered cloak. There was a soft rustling, and I turned to see the two silken crells hovering silent
behind us, gleaming in the torch-light. The room was dim,, though it was still day, for heavy web-cloth
draperies had been drawn across the eight windows.
     Chayin commanded them to withdraw, and one of them raised pleading eyes to him. I did not
understand the dismay I saw in their faces as they searched among the cushions for their flimsy robes.
Chayin touched my shoulder and went to them, were they hesitated by the double carved doors. He
spoke in low tones and kissed them each atop their harth-black heads, the highest of which only came up
to his shoulder.
     I recognized then with a pang of empathy that piteous dependence upon a man’s will that brought
them one moment to the abyss of misery and the next to the precipice of joy. Those two crells were deep
in love with their cahndor. Chayin slid three bolts upon the door behind them. When he turned to me, his
face was distracted. He had hardly seen them. I had been in their place, one time, with a certain man,
when a touch brought me to grateful tears. I shrugged the memory away. Not again would that happen to
me. Chayin smiled. I was not amused. I flopped down upon a heap of sunset cushions and stretched full
out on my side, my clean fragrant hair falling loose about me. The silk I wore against my flesh was
memory of countless times I had worn silk and given pleasure before. Yet this was different. I found a
struggle within: I was not so sure of myself as I had been, or my place or purpose. I did not want to play
any game at all with Chayin rendi Inekte, no lovers’ games, no women’s game of submission and
manipulation.
     He came and lay close, his hand upon the silk at my turned hip, but his eyes were turned inward. He,
too, felt the tension between us, that impropri-ety of the time that made my body cold to his touch,
though he was a fine and handsome man and I had even then a great respect for him.
     “Chayin,” I said softly, “if you were to tell me that which you feel I do not know, that which so
concerns us both, it might help. It will be a long and painful time until I guess the right questions. I am no
forereader.”
     His eyes had anguish in them, and his voice was shaky. I could see the sweat beading upon his
forehead. He sighed and rolled to his back, staring at the ceiling.
     “If one sees a thing, one may think several ways about it: that it is true, that it is the product of one’s
fears, that it is the dream of one’s heart. That is what I have been taught. You bring another way. I see
you changing what would have been otherwise with your will, and I see that you can-not always control
it, and are perhaps at some times unaware. The sort was for you to fight Besha beyond the
web-weavers’ apprei, but you did not choose to do so. When :I first took you, I did other than what was
natural for me, and I have a sense now that you drafted me into your service. I have from this determined
that I myself have upon occa-sion brought my own fears into the time, as I have long suspected.”
     I said nothing, waiting.
     “If one may bring a thing into time by will, then surely it is imprudent to speak of what might be, even
when it is what one sees as truth. I do not desire that which I see. Therefore, it would be wise upon my
part to try to conceive another ending to this affair, rather than give support to what I fear.”
     “Some of what you say may be true, but one must first determine all, the available probabilities, then
choose between them. You cannot bring your choice into being if it is not among the time tracks. There is
never only one way a thing may occur, but we both know there is crux, and within crux, what occurs is
fixed. One cannot take responsibil-ity for more than one’s personal behavior. We must trust that we sort
and act in the best possible fashion when we work from the law Within.” I crawled to him and put my
head upon his shoul-der and stared into the forest of curling hairs upon his chest. He still wore the
uritheria medallion on its thick-linked gold chain. “Tell me what bothers you, and I will turn my small skill
toward it.”
     “Many things bother me, little one. Nemar is no simple land, and that which ails my mind is noth-ing
that can be helped.”
     “I am not so sure,” I said.
     “Sereth will surely kill you,” he said simply, “And you hasten with loving eyes toward your death. I
cannot sit and pretend I do not know it, because it serves me to have you, unaware, do my will until I
hand you to him, as Hael would have me do. Sereth is no longer the man you knew. He is an outlaw with
a fierce band around him, and the people of Yardum-Or call him the Ebvrasea and fear him. It is said his
men will have no women among them, and that to no living thing do they give quarter.”
     “Sereth would never hurt me. All you have is gossip. Have no fear for me at his hands.” I almost
laughed when I said it.
     “I know it from his own mouth,—for I met him when I was on the plains of Yardum-Or, and under
circumstances which left me owing him a blood debt. For that I gave him asylum from those who
hounded him, and the whole of Mount Opir as his own. Do not tell me of his feelings—I know them.” He
turned his face into my hair. “I must present you to him, else violate the spirit of the bond between us.
And yet I have feelings for you that I thought never to have for a woman.” His voice was barely a
whisper. “Yet I see losing you wher-ever I look. I cannot have you near me without memory of the pain I
will come to feel at your loss. This once I wish my foresight would fail me.” And he pulled me close and
held me tight. “All that time, since I saw you and saw what would be between us, I have tried to shut it
out, that I not feel this pain. It grew as I foresaw it, this caring, though I have denied myself your use. I
would no longer go without it.”
     “Then let us do as you said, and enjoy this pleas-ant interval.”
     His touch upon me proved the truth of his words, and I was caught in the tide of his intense emotion,
for I opened my mind to his. When at last we were both exhausted, I got up from beside him and opened
the draperies, that the night sky might shine in upon him. My mouth and, it seemed, even my stomach
tingled long after from the taste of him, so potent was his gift to me.
     “It is said here,” he murmured to me when I again lay in his arms, “that a Nemarsi takes his duty with
a tiask, his lust with a crell, and his love with his brother. We seem to be the exception that proves the
rule. Would you be Nemarchan beside me?” His tone had no hint of the veil about it. The couching
seemed to have stabilized him.
     “But you have a Nemarchan. Can there be more than one?” I asked, playful.
     “There could be, one who was in truth what Liuma is in name,” he said.
     “But she bears your child,” I pointed out.
     “Perhaps, and perhaps Hael’s or Tar-Kesa’s, for all I know. She is little more than Hael’s eyes and
ears, though she fancies herself a strong influence upon me.” I could feel his body stiffen with this truth,
and its strain upon him.
     “One cannot couch a forereader without couch-ing also the Day-Keepers she represents.” Bitter was
Chayin about the restraints Hael held upon him. “I think she would be relieved, should I put her burden
upon another. And there is no way they could stop me. My father did the same, dis-placed another for
my mother. And surely you are, whatever your protestations, as much of a fore-reader as any of them.”
     I thought about this, silent, about all the reasons I could not do this thing.
     “Chayin,” I said softly, “let us take some time together, a short-term couch-bond, if you will, and see
what the Weathers bring us. You know nothing about me. I can truly say that I have never cared more
for a mortal man. There would have to be great change in Nemar for me to reconcile this life with the law
that resides within me. And I have certain things that I must do. If I live through the latter, we can come
to terms with the former.” I sighed, knowing this to be the time.
     “Your god Tar-Kesa and I are not upon the best of terms. I serve another, whose power is even
greater and whose demands are heavy upon me. I think you and I must consider what we are al-lowed
to do, rather than what we choose to do. Make no mistake: if such a thing could be, I would be most
blessed of women.” And I kissed his throat, running my tongue in the dark hollow there.
     “The chosen of Tar-Kesa is himself a god,” he reminded me, his voice dark as his skin.
     “Then my tasks should be greatly lightened by your aid; and by your will, success must surely come
to me. Only until the new moon let us keep this couch-bond, and if at that time you still want me,
provided we both live, I will be your Nemar-chan, if you will meet certain conditions which the time
between now and then will doubtless make clear to you.”
     And seeing that I would not be dissuaded from this, Chayin agreed to let Liuma continue as his
Nemarchan until that time, and more that I asked of him. He would return to me my Astrian chald that
Hael now held, and the helsar also. When I explained that Hael’s use of the helsar caused me pain, he
became agitated, demanding to know why I had not told him before, and it came to light in that
conversation that Had was meeting with the other four dhareners of the Parset Lands to try to get some
unified policy for dealing with the Bipe-dal Federate M’ksakkans, who had approached each tribe
separately with certain proposals. An uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach, I guessed aloud what those
proposals were: bases in the south and direct access to the drugs grown here, those drugs catalytic to the
serums that are our only restraint upon the M’ksakkans, for they have not succeeded in synthesizing
them.
     As Chayin so aptly pointed out, if the Menetphers had hovers and star weapons, it would behoove
the Nemarsi to treat for them also.
     I expressed my disapproval of the scheme, and aired some considered opinions I had gathered from
close and continued contact with the B. F. representatives, the Liaisons, in the north. I put it to Chayin
that only disorder could result from treating with these materially fixated beings, and he promised me, in
return for certain information, that I might sit in on the final negotiations, to be held at Frullo jer, where all
the Parset lords would be gathered. Furthermore, he promised me that he would under no circumstances
treat with M’ksakka, and that he would convince Aknet of Menetph to refrain also. If the two most
powerful of the Parset nations did this, he was sure that the others would follow their lead.
     “At some time,” I had said, “I must return to Astria, and take up again my duties there. I would like
to send a message to my uncle, adviser Rathad, that I am well and safe, and that I will be home when this
business with Sereth has’ finished.”
     “I thought you knew, surely, for you did not ask me to return you,” he had said incredulously,
prop-ping himself upon his elbow to stare down into my face.
     “Knew what?” I asked him, my lips suddenly stiff and cold. And in a way I had known, for among
the probabilities of my sorting had been none concerned with my beloved Astria; no way home.
     “Knew,” he said, hesitant, “that Rathad lives no longer, that Jana, who was Well-Keepress there, has
long since disappeared, none knowing whither, and that Celendra bast Aknet rules in Astria.”
     And I have never been gladder for a man’s arms than at that moment, when so many things be-came
clear to me, and the pieces all fell together, and I saw with the clairty of true seeing what awaited me
upon the plain of Astria.
     And glad I was too that he would make me his, for of a sudden I was homeless, without family but
for Estrazi. Had Chayin again asked me, while I wept and he held me, to become Nemarchan of the
Nemarsi, I would have accepted. But he is a righ-teous man, and he did nothing but what was needed.
He held me throughout the long Nemarsi night.
     In the morning, upon awaking, I remembered and took refuge; I couched him upon my own initiative,
and drove away once again that feeling of aloneness within me.
     I thought that day, as we rode the threx around the perimeters of Nemar North, of Rathad. Chayin
knew only that he was dead, not how. My mother’s brother had been all family to me.
     We rode also to see the child of Besha’s, who was now my responsibility, for as the Weathers would
have it, I now wore around my waist the strand of birthing fulfilled. The boy was near adult, and a
web-weaver, as had been Besha’s father, Tenager the First Weaver. The youth was not no-ticeably
disturbed; it seemed he hardly even no-ticed us. The whole time we were there his webber was busy
upon the frame and his eyes were else-where focused. Tenager, on the other hand, was visibly
grief-stricken, and Chayin sat talking to him well over an enth.
     As we left the weavers’ appreis I mentioned to Chayin a dream I had had, in which I stood in the
middle of a seven-cornered room. He interrupted me there and described to me exactly what I had been
about to describe to him—the seven occu-pants of the room and the aspect that each pre-sented. He
was as excited as I that another had seen what had been to each dreamer so real, and we set about
speculating upon the identity of the seven men and the meaning of the dream, but we came, to no
supportable conclusions.
     That night we spent in his keep, and the next day I viewed all that had been Besha’s—each crell,
each threx, the appreis, and the palace quarters. Her most amazing possession was a great apprei upon
the Way of Tar-Kesa, for which Tenager him-self had created the web panels. There was more wealth
than I found seemly, and more material things about which to be concerned than I liked. I gave all to
Chayin but one apprei, the threx, and crells, and bade him distribute it. I kept the threx upon impulse, and
the crells because I felt respon-sible for their welfare. When we returned to Chayin’s keep that night, a
Day-Keeper awaited him with the news that Hael would be late in hide aniet. He bade us await him; that
we delay our departure to Frullo jer until his return to Nemar.
     Chayin dismissed the man without a word and slammed about the keep, kicking unwary cushions out
of his way. He stripped off his sword belt and threw the exquisitely crafted weapon against the far wall.
Finally he sat, hands clasped behind his neck, staring at the floor.
     “What means this?” he whispered, when I went behind him to knead the knots from his shoulders. I
had for him no answer.
     “Curse them! Curse them all, the forereaders and the Day-Keepers and Tar-Kesa and the
Weath-ers! I am so tired of suiting my actions to their will! Someday I will throw every manipulative one
of them into a pit of hungry apths! This secre-tiveness is more than I can bear. The two of them, loose
among their kind; who knows what harm they will hatch up!” He trembled with rage.
     “I have often thought, these lait few days, we might be better off without them,” I commiserated.
There was one particular Arletian forereader whom
     I would have liked to add to Chayin’s, candidates for the apth pit.
     “Do you really have one?” I asked him at last. “One what?”
     “An apth pit.”
     “Surely, although they are old and lazy,” he answered. “It takes them days to fully devour their
victims. Would you like to see them?”
     “No.” I shuddered.
     He turned and faced me, reaching up to pull me to my knees by the hair.
     “We leave for Frullo jer before morning. I want you to wear this. It will keep the jiasks from you,
even if you are maskless. And you will be safe even from other tiasks.” He grinned, and took the golden
uritheria medallion from about his neck and placed it about mine. It lay cold and heavy between my
breasts. A superstitious chill ran through me.
     “I would not take this, it is too great an honor.” I could not say I would not have Tar-Kesa’s sign
upon me.
     “You must.” His smile was proud and gentle. “I command it.” And for his sake I agreed. Then he
went and rummaged behind his hangings, and a great pile of Parset gear began to grow beside him. He
threw toward me the Shaper’s cloak.
     “You might as well wear it, and these also.” And to the cloak he added a gol-knife in red-gold sheath
and a stra straight blade, such as is used in the north, with a hulion’s head carved into its archite hilt.
     He strode to the double doors and passed through them, and I heard a great chiming. Chayin
re-turned to his pile and dressed himself from it until there was nothing left of the pile and he stood armed
and ready for the desert in brown web-cloth cloak and breech and untrapped leathers. I had seen him
strap all manner of weapons about him, from tiniest sticker to razor-moons and gol—
     knives, but this armament was so cleverly hidden that one saw only a gol-knife at hip and short
sword beside it.
     He grinned through narrowed eyes at me, si-lently staring. I picked up the Shaper’s cloak and put it
over my arm, and threaded the gol-knife through the sword belt before I belted the familiar northern
straight blade about me, just below my Nemarsi chald.
     There was a clatter in the hall, and another, and two jiasks burst through the double doors and
skidded to a halt before their cahndor. Before Chayin could even turn to face them, two more followed.
These two were noticeably winded, and both familiar to me from my confirmation.
     “I leave for Frullo jer within the enth,” Chayin told them. “Wiraal, it is on you to get the remain—inF
threxmen there safely.” Wiraal nodded.
     “Yimon, Nemar North is in your hands,” he said to the second, and that one bowed his head.
     “Asi, prepare Saer and Guanden, with a light hand. Send all I would have carried with Wiraal. Just
see it is not forgotten, for I will need it, first first of Amarsa. And send to fetch desert gear for Estri.
Those things I ordered are surely ready.” And the jiask Asi backed hurriedly from the room, without
protestation as to the lateness of the hour.
     Chayin turned to the fourth, a heavyset, grizzled veteran whose age I found it impossible to judge. He
wore his scowl of disapproval as might another his weapon.
     “Isre, I—”
     The older jiask did not let his chandor finish, but broke right in. “You are not going again into the
desert without me, Chayin! That last was my only folly. If anything had happened to you, your father’s
spirit would surely—”
     “It is time, Isre,” Chayin interrupted in kind, his hand raised palm up to the jiask. “That the father’s
son be left on his own. I have my own spirit to temper in the caldron of time. You cannot do it for me. I
must leave more than one man whose love is unquestioned in Nemar North.”
     “I will not stay here,” said the jiask, crossing gnarled arms thick as thala saplings across his breasts.
     “You will, for I shall not return with the others from Frullo jer, but continue on to Mount Opir. Would
you leave Yimon to stand for Nemar against Hael upon his own? Surely your responsibility to the jiasks
outweighs all else that might be bal-anced against it.”
     The jiaskcahn Isre had that look of a man who only sees the trap when it has closed upon his ankle.
     Chayin made a sign, and the three bowed down, and the cahndor, in his capacity as living god,
blessed them and their endeavors in his name. He then bade them rise and leave us, which they did, as a
fitterwoman with sleep still in her eyes stum-bled through the double doors with the weapon-master. Both
of them carried armfuls of their craft before them, the little fitterwoman such a load it was a wonder she
could see around it.
     At my feet they dropped enough to garb a yra of flasks, rather than one.
     From this assortment I soon found myself dressed a double to the cahndor, concealed weapons
in-cluded, even down to the razor-moons in my thigh-high boots. My cloak, it was decided, was weapon
enough without the wires and stickers Chayin’s contained, but still they insisted upon slipping the
Shaper’s cloak within a brown double thickness of web-weave and sewing shut all the edges, so that the
cloak was totally encased, except for the starburst clasps, which they dulled with some paste so that they
no longer shone.
     What occurred fit so exactly with my sorting that I was afraid to break the spell, and we rode long
silent neras out of Nemar North to the southwest, through the decline of evening and sun’s rising and at
midmorn we stopped in the middle of a dried-up streambed to rest the threx. The veil was heavy upon
Chayin then, and in a sense it was on me also, for I made no move to alter what was to be, nor any
judgment upon my part in it. We waited, silent, until the threx were rested, and we shared water, but
neither ate, and then once again we set their noses toward Frullo jer. Halfway through that harrowing,
silent trek, Guanden ceased his pulling and fighting. He had had, finally, enough run to suit him. And when
the threx would have slowed, I urged him on, half in revenge for his ill manners.
     The full moon was high when we made the ridge country, and higher when we reined them up to gaze
upon FruIlo jer—a long day-bright hollow be-tween two parallel ridges, ringed with a thousand torches
beneath which a sea of appreis shone like jewels. In the center were huge pavilions, with the device of
Nernar, a slitsa wound around the re-curved blade upon a field of crimson, emblazoned upon them.
Frullo jer lies in Nemar, and the mid-summer festival of Amarsa is always hosted by the Nemarsi. Three
years in a row had Aknet of Menetph beaten the Nemarsi, upon their home ground, and taken back with
him to Menetph the. Golden Sword. This year Nemar would regain it. Men’s hoarse shouting came to us
on the breeze, and the smells of food and threx and life. Appreis and pavilions were still being raised,
work still being done. To our left, some gaen, Parset draft beasts, pulled a huge rake along a nera-around
circular track, in the center of which were more web-structures. It was toward these we headed, down
the slope, among the’ busy throng that seemed not to know or care about the night’s waning. I
     was to learn that Frullo jer, like many Parset institutions, is a day-and-night, nonstop affair. A tired
Parset tastes his uris and keeps going, that he not be interrupted. This we did, also, as Chayin guided
Saer across the beautifully graded track among the pavilions to one with the Nemarsi de-vice upon it.
Behind us was another, easily as imposing, that bore the amber star upon the black field of Menetph.
     We were challenged by a querulous Nemarsi. Chayin casually dismounted, and I did likewise. The
man, seeing his cahndor, reached out his hand for Saer’s reins. I handed him mine also, and we followed
the threx’s rears to see where along the ropes they would be placed. Never have I seen more fine threx
under one cover. A great part of the purpose of these festivals is to mix bloodlines, threx and Parset
both, the rest being the meeting of tribal leaders and Day-Keepers and the checking of weights and
measures to reaffirm them lawful. At such threx meets also it is not infrequent to see greedy grain
merchants from Yardum-Or, for there is a truce of sorts about these affairs, and even safe passage for a
few chosen’outsiders. There are many northern threx breeders that would give a man’s weight in silver
for a chance to stand where I stood; more even to contract for service of their best threx by such proven
producers of race stock as Aknet’s Tycel. The Parsets do not cross-breed their stock outside their own
tribes, and even among them; security about the threx was tight. All of thirty jiasks stalked the aisles
between the ropes, constantly vigilant.
     We passed along aisles where owners worked upon their beasts’ coats with razors, patterning their
rumps, and with dyes upon their tripart hooves, and with all manner of beads and ribbons and brushes
and combs beautified them. Many men were stripped down in the heat of the night, and their dark skins
shone slick in the torchlight as they worked.
     We regained the track and crossed it, and were among the awnings, where all manner of threx gear
was available. I saw stone-studded headstalls and gold-worked rounded reins and great ruffed
saddlepads of vibrant coloration. Parsets browsed and haggled about the stalls in all variety of dress,
some eating or drinking as they wandered about. Chayin’s hand at my waist guided my steps; his voice
was proud in my ear.
      “Nowhere in all of the Parset Lands is there another meet to equal that of the Golden Sword. My
people have been months preparing. Two hun-dred have been at this spot for three sets, that the track be
perfect and the grounds free of slitsas and apths.”
      “It is indeed overwhelming,” I said, as a prelude to a plea for food, but at the last of the threx-fitters’
stalls I saw what I wanted, and put my arm about Chayin’s waist and stood on my toes to speak in his
ear.
      “Buy me that,” I said, pointing to a bitless head-stall with a nosepiece of metal wound with parr-hide,
as is used in the north. This one had silver buckles, and the leathers were gilded, but it was the only one I
had seen.
      “Anything,” he said, and paid twice what it was worth to the merchant, without comment.
      “Thank you,” I said as he handed fit to me. “Since Guanden has no mouth, we will see if he has
nerves in his nose.” And he knew what I meant: the threx had so much scar tissue in his mouth, he hardly
felt the bits.
      “Food?” he suggested, guiding me toward a num-ber of fires that glowed up into the night.
      “Your forereading is astounding,” I answered.
      “And then some rest, perhaps?” His hand slipped from my waist to my hips.
      “Indeed, for we must be up again by midday to take them around the track,” I reminded him.
      “We have today and another before first first of Amarsa,” he objected. “They have both run this
track.” We were among the food vendors, each of whom had spread deep-piled rugs upon the ground
before their fires, that their customers might sit and eat.
      Chayin sat me in a vacant corner and went to the fireside. Some jiasks, farther down the mat,
regarded me curiously, talking in low tones to each other. I was maskless, I reminded myself, and of
what that meant to them. Chayin met someone he knew, and they stood talking, bowls in hand. The jiask
was Chayin’s height, but broader and darker, dressed similarly to the cahndor, but in black. They turned
and headed toward me. The black-garbed one had a bladder over his shoulder.
      I was getting to my feet when the spinning took me, and I sank back to my knees, and then I could
no longer feel my body, or hear through its ears, or see through its eyes. I was in a different place, of pink
phosphorescent seas and fuchsia cliffs where hump-eyed herbivores rose from the waves, their mouths
dripping with brown vegetation. And then, not there, but another place, with a blaring angry call in my
mind, that I had no business in that place. Hael’s mind, and others behind it I felt, pushing with the wrong
tools upon the helsar, desperate, for now entwined in it, they had not the skill to free themselves. I
thought the helsar would surely shatter from their force, the wrong way, at the wrong time. Sorters all,
they had not thought to hest the filaments into order, but tried to push through them. And I had no choice
but to aid the helsar, for its fate and my own were even then too closely linked.
      From the inside, beyond the first gate, I set the filaments spinning in reverse; contrapuntal, it
      1 34         Janet E. Morris spewed them out. But I had by that step commit-ted myself. A.portion
of me lay trapped behind the golden gate, and would remain there until I could run the helsar in sequence
and reacquire it. I slid out. The helsar was not unhappy at what had occurred, and what it had traded to
me in return went with me, to see a world which for it is only a dream.
      Then I knew that Chayin shook me, holding me by the shoulders, and I could feel the rug pile under
my knees. Then sight, and his face, eyes narrowed in concern, membranes full across his eyes in his
concentration. My mind met his before I found the skill of speech, and his sniffed mine all around, like a
worried mother threx her newborn.
      “Hael,” I said when I could, “knocked upon the gate, and he contrived to get his foot stuck there, he
and his friends.”
      “What did you leave there?” he demanded. “Only a little time,” I reassured him.
      “Tor him? I would have let him languish!”
      “For myself; it is within. my keep he would wreak his disorder and shriek his pain. How could I do
otherwise?” I sat back on my heels and shook his hands off. The black-garbed jiask stood a little behind
the cahndor, who knelt beside me. He stared. I tossed back my hair and wiped the beads of sweat from
my upper lip. I could feel it running in rivulets from under my breasts down my ribs.
     “It is done, and with little harm, Chayin.” I touched his face. “Let us eat our meal.”
     He growled like a dorkat, but managed for me a wry grin, and handed me a bowl in which were a
number of fried harth parts.
     “Will you never introduce me, Chayin?” de-manded the jiask, pulling on his beard with his hand.
     “Jaheil, cahndor of Dordaisa, Estri of Nemar,” Chayin complied.
     “Cahndor,” I acknowledged.
     “You are too much of a woman to be the deadly tiask that Chayin paints you,” he said, leaning
forward to take the hand I offered in Astrian greeting. This man had been in the north. He nego-tiated the
three-turn grip with easy familiarity.
     I smiled at his compliment but said nothing.
     “I have been trying to convince Jaheil to take a yra of jiasks and accompany us to Mount Opir and
beyond.” Chayin’s tone deepened suggestively. “Of all the cahndors, Jaheil is the only one to whom I
would trust my back. I am going to have to turn it sometime in the near future.”
     “It would suit me, such a romp. I have been too long a cahndor. I have not blooded my sword for a
score of passes.”
     “Even a cahndor, in Nemar, gets more exercise than that. Have you heard of Aknet’s attempted foul
play?”
     “I have heard.” The black-eyed jiask nodded. “Estri, tell Jaheil what you saw that day in the sky.”
     “A M’ksakkan craft, big enough to have held that many Menetphers. It came from Nemar and then
veered northeast,” I said.
     “Think you what I suspect?” Jaheil demanded of Chayin, tugging so at his beard that his jaw
wobbled.
     “That the M’ksakkans aid the Menetphers? Doubt-less. And they will aid us all against each other
until there are none left to say what they may do in the desert!”
     “What would you do about it?” Jaheil queried Chayin.
     “Refuse them any ground. Unite all the cahndors against the M’ksakkans. If you will see to Itophe
and Coseve, I will convince Aknet that it is not to Menetph’s benefit to treat with the star men.”
     “And how will you do that? You and Aknet un—
     der the same web-cloth is reason enough to have one’s sword well whetted. Since I have known the
two of you, the only agreement between you has been when to enter into battle. Have things so changed
between Menetph and Nemar?”
     “Know you only that I will do what I say! I can be very convincing.” And Chayin showed that smile
he wears only upon the kill.
     “Are you also a living god?” I broke in, for I saw many around whose ears were fairly pricked in our
direction.
     Ostentatiously Jaheil rolled back his wide sleeves to exhibit his marks of godhead. “Certainly We are
all gods, eh, Chayin?” And he uncorked his bladder.
     “Can the gods tell who will win the Golden Sword?” I asked him, taking a drink of some tart kifra
and handing it back.
     “Surely you know that already?” he evaded.
     “Ah, within, within,” I quipped, “it is all within, but so much rests upon us learning to fetch it out
where we can see it. Omniscience must be exhaust-ing.” The banter served its purpose. The jiasks down
the mat took up their own talk, and the small group behind me wandered into the night.
     “To get what is within without”—Jaheirs eyes twinkled and sparked in his dark face—“one must set
the lure and wait. A high mind receives that which by nature belongs upon that level,” he pronounced.
     “Enough! I hear such drivel too often! The higher the mind, the farther the horizons for which it
pines!” Chayin snapped.
     “Will you, Jaheil,” I said smoothly, “accompany us to Mount Opir?”
     “My lady, I doubt if I have a full yra of jiasks to whom I could trust my own back! If I find that I do,
I may later join you. Hard is the lot of a cahndor!”
     “Hard is the lot of a man who has upon his couch Aniacaer? Come now, Jaheil!”
     “All love grows dim with time, Chayin. The fuel burns, the fire low between us. And you, the same
with Liuma?”
     “The same,” said Chayin in a clipped tone. “Whom did you bring with you, then? Doubtless the
cahndor of Dordassa will not sleep alone at Frullo jer?”
     “What I brought, I would not be seen with in public. I am not so lucky as you, to have such as Estri
among my flasks. I brought two crells, of whom, if you wish, you may partake, and I had thought to take
a maskless tiask who does not outweigh me. As a matter of fact, what drew me to you was this maskless
lady, for I did not recognize you in the dim light.”
     “I have heard it is a common saying in Dordassa that all we of Nemar look alike,” Chayin teased him.
     “If that were true, how could I sit before one as ugly as the cahndor and as beautiful as the tiask of
Nemar at the same moment? It is a blessing of stronger gods than we, that produces such beauty.” Jaheil,
sucking prodigiously at the kifra bladder, leaned toward me.
     I shifted against Chayin, and he rose, sensing my unease, and held his hand out to me. I took it, and
the uritheria of Nemar jiggled between my breasts.
     “A productive search to you, Jaheil. You have reminded me of my duty, and I must hasten to it.”
Chayin bade him farewell, and we threaded our way through the crowd to a cluster of large appreis that
bore the device of Nemar, and between them into a central one that awaited us.
     Chayin unlaced the flap and held it open for me. Mats were unrolled, and two oil lamps lit, and both
our saddlepacks had been brought there.
     I unlatched my cloak and let it fall with a sigh of relief, and my boots and belts and breech and band I
stripped off also, before I saw the figure that lounged in the shadows. Chayin had his back to me, bent
over his saddlepack, searching some-thing from its depths. I knelt casually and picked up my boot,
sliding my hand around the grip of a razor-moon. Then I let the boot fall back.
     “Chayin,” I said softly, “we have a visitor.” And the cahndor was at my side, blade glinting in the
lamplight.
     A laugh came from out of the figure in the shadows, and at that sound the razor-moon dropped from
my nerveless fingers to stick upright in the thick pile rug. Chayin bared his teeth and sheathed his blade.
     “I sent word to you,” Hael said, stepping out of the shadows.
     “I received it,” Chayin acknowledged, “and if I had heeded it, I would sit still in Nemar, awaiting
you.’’
     Hael spread his hands. There was a stiffness to his movements, and his face seemed somehow
rearranged. I bent and retrieved the razor-moon, forcing my limbs to do my will. It was Hael’s debility,
and his sending of it, that had numbed me. I sent it back to him, and saw his face blanch as I returned to
him his gift.
     “By what means,” Chayin demanded, pretenses abandoned, “have you contrived to be in two places
at once? What Day-Keeper’s tricks can you find to excuse your presence here?” He glowered at Hael,
who stood slightly weaving upon his feet. I won-dered if what he had gained in the helsar was worth this
price to him, and whether it would cost me so much, when my turn came.
     —
     “I have communed with Tar-Kesa,” said the dharener at last. “I have conferred with my broth-ers in
aniet. I but do the will of the time. The M’ksakkans arrive momentarily. I had thought to save you from
what promises to be an unpleasant confrontation.” His voice was not so sure as his words.
     “And the Golden Sword? Do you prize it so little?” Chayin snapped, accusing. “I have seen the
results upon Estri.of what you did in aniet. I have seen she who must stand for us all upon her knees,
helpless by your machinations. Would you lose us our only chance to win?”
     Hael’s face regained some animation. “Even that!” the dharener exclaimed. “Even that is a puny price
to pay, for what might be gained.” And he looked at me defiantly, his uncertain hand quiv-ering as he
pointed at me. “Nemar lies upon the line, because of her. She is accursed by Tar-Kesa! You dally with
your doom, Chayin! And all of us must be drawn in your wake. Blood is upon her path, and it is Nemarsi
blood!” His words rode upon some chill and ghostly wind. “Any who aid her shall be by His will
destroyed. I have seen it.” Hael glared at me, then at Chayin.
     “I too have spoken with Tar-Kesa,” said Chayin, folding his arms across his chest. “What he has
shown every dharener, he had shown his chosen son also. Have no fear, brother, for those messages so
clear to you have not been withheld from me. About the M’ksakkans, He has instructed me. And about
this woman also. His will be done!” And he held out his hand, palm upward, to Hael.
     “The mind-tool”—and his voice was silk-sheathed steel—“give it to me.” And, as Hael hesitated:
“Surely you do not doubt His will as it is manifest through His son?” And Hael handed the tas-wrapped
helsar to Chayin, who hefted it in his palm.
     “Now, go, and see you to the Nemarchan and your dharener’s duties. But I warn you, stay your
hand from my affairs, and your mouth also.” And Chayin turned his back to his brother and knelt once
more at his saddlepack, helsar in hand.
     Hael stared, unbelieving, for a moment at Chayin. Then he wheeled and strode through the flaps and
out into the night. But the promise his eyes had made mine in those last moments was unmistak-able.
     I went and laced the flaps, that they not rattle and snap in the rising wind. When. I turned from this, I
saw Chayin .stripping off his gear. When that was done, he went and extinguished one of the oil lamps
and sat himself upon the cushions in the semidark.
     I went to him and laid my head in his lap. He stroked my hair, and we spent a time in silence.
     “It is true, you know,” I confessed, “what he said about me. The race that fathered Tar-Kesa
spawned me also, and this world’s future lies in contest between us.” And admitting it, my voice sounded
hopeless even to my own ears.
     “I do not believe in curses. I have lived every torture conceivable; every curse ever spoken has been
laid upon me. I was by chaos sired, and out of fear’s belly did I come. The accursed knows his siblings,
and you are not one. Long before I met you; Terror consumed me and made the leavings Her agent.” He
tossed the helsar into my lap, like some worthless bauble. “How could I fear you?” His voice softened.
“When I am with you, my own curse comes less often upon me; should I fear that which alleviates my
pain?”
     “That is no conscious skill of mine, but a heredi-tary gift that eases you. You are soothed by the calm
within the crux that surrounds me. But it is my primal self that hests the time and has all my life done so.
You have even said this to me. I try now to control it; make the besting a conscious skill, before the
power turns back upon me. I must do so. I hold in my mind that which I wish;, hesting. But I have not the
dexterity to sort and correct and hest all at once. So I am in effect blind until my will comes to be. I may
not win, Chayin, nor can I see past my choosing, or determine what will come if I fail.”
     “And can this mind-tool help you?”
     “Perhaps. And if not, the ending will be quicker. It is premature, but Hael has left me no choice. I will
need your help.”
     “Anything.”
     “I. need safety for my body while I am away from it. Three days, at least. While I am gone, will you
watch over what remains?”
     “Can it wait until we are upon Mount Opir?”
     “If you can keep the thing from Hael, and safe, it could wait that long. But it is a tool from the school
of another race, the helsar, and you should not handle it, nor should I until I can give it my full attention.” I
could feel it calling.
     “I will secrete it where it will be safe until we ride for Mount Opir, and then return it to you.”
     “Do so,” I said, and gave it to him; and he rose in the dim light and went to the middle stanchion and
fussed awhile about its base. When he re-turned and lay beside me, he was empty-handed. And we
began what by rights should have taken more than an enth, but was ended before being barely begun by
a braying of Chayin’s name out-side the laced flaps.
     He groaned and cursed and wrapped his breech around him before ripping out the laces to admit
Jaheil, cahndor of Dordassa.
     I made no move from among the cushions, think-ing that Jaheil would speak his piece and depart,
and we could return to what concerned us, but at Jaheil’s first words I knew such would not be the case.
     “The M’ksakkan ship has arrived,” he announced, walking past Chayin and across the apprei, to
throw himself down beside me upon the cushions.
     “I importune!” He leered at me. “Forgive me, tiask.”
     “I do not find your choice of moments at all amusing,” I said to him, “but I will excuse you this once,
if you will promise not to repeat your error.” And I rose to my knees and began search-ing about for my
clothing.
     “Have you done your part with Itophe and Coseve?” Chayin inquired as he pulled his sword belt and
the breech I was missing from under a mat. He threw me the breech, which Jaheil inter-cepted and
handed to me with a flourish.
     “It is just done, but. I would wager you have not had time for Menetph.”
     —Chayin smiled and latched his cloak at his throat.
     “You are truly godlike in your omniscience, Jaheil. I have not seen Aknet. I go now to do so. Delay
them for me, with some clever stratagem, until I join you.”
     Chayin stood awaiting me. I grabbed up the Shaper’s cloak.
     “They would not start without the two of you,” Jaheil remarked.
     “They will start without one of us for certain,” said Chayin, holding the flap that I might pass out
before him.
     He hurried me through the waning dark along the aisles of appreis, until we stood before an
im-posing circle of them, each bearing the device of Menetph. Through these to the one encircled we
passed, and before the flaps Chayin called Aknet out to meet him.
     After an interval the flaps were unlaced, and a large man stood backlit, before us, cloaked and fully
armed. Aknet aniet Beshost was black as a northern harth, in middle years, powerful, and girthy; with a
layer of fat laid deceptively over his strength.
     “What has the son of Inekte to say to me?” he demanded in a growl.
     “I would discuss with you some things in pri-vate,” said Chayin. “Such things as are not spoken of
between appreis.”
     “Such things as need a witness?” The older cahndor demanded.
     “Such things as might.” And Chayin’s voice was icy.
     With a curt motion the Menetpher waved us within. He followed. The apprei was night tones—darks
of red and purple and blue, all ashadow.
     A man raised his head from among the cushions.
     “1, too, have a witness,” Aknet said. The man stood and busied himself dressing.
     I felt the tension between them, and though I knew of their rivalry, I did not understand.
     “I had not thought you this courageous, to come to me after what has occurred. But I would have
sought you out after I had had the satisfaction of once again laying claim to the Golden Sword.”
     “I, too, had thought to wait,” Chayin replied. Neither made any move to seat himself, and both men
communed with their sword hilts. “But the M’ksakkan ship is here. Gainsay their aid, and we shall both
walk out of this.”
     “You know I am already committed. If I were not, I would even so take up this offering of the lands
of Nemar. I have long wished to retreat before the summer’s heat.”
     Then I understood.
     “And I before the winter’s chill. Upon my life I wager you.” And Chayin’s voice was eager and
joyous.
     “The chald of Menetph against the chald of Nemar, all descendants and claimants waived, the one
survivor possessing all. Witnesses have heard it.” Aknet laughed, drawing his blade.
     With Aknet’s first lunge, I saw Celendra in him.
     He attacked fiercely, trying to drive Chayin back before him, but Chayin would not be driven back.
He gave no ground, and his riposte of Aknet’s stroke sent sparks flying. I found myself hunched down
near the other witness, Chayin’s back to me. He feinted, and Aknet followed through and left his right
side open, but Chayin could not connect. They were perhaps too equal a match, and their blades snicked
through the air, blurred with speed. Around the middle stanchion, Aknet pushed Chayin, but he could not
pierce the younger man’s defense. Aknet battered the harder; I could hear his stento-rian breathing.
Chayin is no lightweight man, but next to Aknet he seemed of lesser stature, and my mouth was dry and
foul as I watched them. Aknet’s blade took hairs from Chayin’s head, and In his follow-through Chayin
finally slashed him. Doubly surprised at his sword’s failure to connect and Chayin’s quick attack, the
cahndor stumbled. I caught a close glimpse of Aknet’s face, contorted in blood lust, for he staggered
close to me, and he wore no sneer any longer, for he knew then, and that knowledge further stayed him
as Chayin’s blade arced and rose, and killed him before he could even parry the blow. While Aknet was
still upon his knees did Chayin strike the head cleanly from his body, and it rolled, to stop against my
knee. I saw those eyes, and I was sick upon the cushions, and even upon the head of Aknet Beshost,
former cahndor of Menetph.
      There was a score of jiasks crowding into the apprei, though I had not seen them gather.
      Chayin reached down to the headless corpse and cut the chald from it with his blade. He wrapped
the reigning chald of Menetph around his fist and turned to the jiasks, frozen in horror and uncer-tainty at
the grisly scene.
      “Greet your new cahndor, men of Menetph! And go from here and spread the word. Aknet wagered
me Menetph, and I will collect my debt.”
      “It is true,” stated the male witness, and I added my own affirmation.
      “Clear the way,” Chayin demanded, and the men opened a path through their midst. Chayin held out
his hand to me, and I ran to take it. It was the hand around which he had wound the chald of Aknet. I
expected any moment to feel a blade be-tween my shoulders as we walked among the Menetphers, but
such did not occur.
      “This is one chald,” he whispered in my ear as we passed the last staring men of Menetph, “that I
have long been willing to bear.” And he nibbled my ear as we passed out of that area and toward the
food vendors’ awnings.
      “You could not possibly want to eat!” I objected.
      “Just a drink to celebrate.” He was happier than I had ever seen him. By the time we stood among
the vendors, I had spotted the M’ksakkan ship, not a small hover but a great golden friysou’s wing of a
craft, glinting in the first rays of the rising sun. It sat upon the track, near the threx pavilions.
      Chayin purchased some kifra, and I was glad for it to wipe the taste of my sickness from my mouth.
When I was done, he tilted the bladder back and drank prodigiously, emptying the bladder and toss-ing
it to the ground. He slapped me on the rump.
      “Let us be off to greet the M’ksakkans,” he suggested, pulling me by the hand at a half-run. He
seemed much younger, then, flushed with victory, and sure of himself.
      “That is no small show of power, that ship,” I remarked to him as we threaded through the
thick-ening crowd that browsed among the threx fitters’ stands. “I have beheld such in Port Astrin. See
you that golden network? I have seen pictures of such craft in deep space, with sails unfurled, and that
net-work abillow with the winds between worlds. They seldom land them, though such a ship may drift
like a hover upon gravitic lines of force.”
      “Shall we take it and sail the seas of space?” Chayin suggested.
      I shuddered. “Leave me the ground under my feet, cahndor.”
      “It was just a thought.” We reached the track’s edge. Chayin stopped and took from his belt a uris
pouch and partook of it. I did likewise. Upon the track were three knots of men, at varying dis-tances
from the M’ksakkan ship.
      “Put upon you the tiask’s mask, and show the medallion you wear,” Chayin ordered.
      I did as he bid me, lifting the golden uritheria from between my breasts so that it rested on the leather
breastband, and securing the tiask’s, mask about my head. The uris blew a coldness about my eyes, and
my jaws ached already from the excite-ment it heaped upon my frayed central nervous system.
      “How do I look?” I asked him, feeling stiff and restrained by the mask.
      “Like a respectable tiask, albeit a small and unusually soft one,” he said.
      As we approached the first knot of men, they spread into a line before us. The M’Ksakkan crew
members were uniformed in black and brown, and were pale and slight. They stood spread-legged and
uneasy as we approached them. As sentries, they were less than formidable, but the small ob-longs of
star steel each carried more than made up for their physical deficiencies. They did not make way for us.
      “Show cause, that you may pass,” said a golden-haired man no taller.than I, in clumsy Parset from
tight lips, his hand upon his weapon.
      Chayin threw back his cloak and extended his harms, that all might see the marks of his godhood
upon him. The blond M’ksakkan waved his men back, and we passed through without comment, toward
the groups gathered before the ship in the new day’s light. As I watched, one figure detached itself and
hurried toward us, and two walked at a more leisurely pace behind the first, their forms red-limned in the
dawn.
      “You slitsa!” howled Jaheil, pounding Chayin upon the back so that he staggered. “Convincing,
indeed, is the cahndor of Nemar! What will you do with Menetph? Will you take up the sea, now that
you have a port city? Coseve and Itophe are under-standably unnerved, positioned so precariously in the
middle.” He lowered his voice for this last. “I have reassured them, but you yourself must speak of your
plans.” And it was obvious that Jaheil himself was unsettled, and felt the need also of some reassurance,
for Dordassa lies conjunct the southern boundaries of Nernar, and would be first struck if Chayin’s intent
was one of continued expansion.
      “Have you fear of me, Jaheil? I thought us better acquainted. I will set a regent in Menetph, later.
Now we must divest ourselves of these intruders.” He waved his hand toward the alien ship, his eyes
narrowed in concentration as he awaited the two remaining cahndors of the Parset Lands.
      When the green-clad cahndor of Coseve and his companion in the gray of Itophe were before us,
Chayin repeated what he had said to Jaheil. The tension in the yellow eyes of Omas of Coseve was not
noticeably eased, nor was the stiff car-riage of the light-skinned Locaer of Itophe relaxed by Chayin’s
reassurance.
      “Speak, then, for all of us, Chayin,” said the flame-haired cahndor of Itophe. “For we bow to your
will in this affair.”
      “No, Locaer. Each must speak for his own. I can only adjure you to reject the alien’s offer. Neither
Menetph nor Dordassa nor Nemar will treat with the star men, for reasons Jaheil has made clear to you.
It is your choice, each of you.”
      “And if we should choose to avail ourselves of the M’ksaldcan weaponry and aid them in return?
What will you do?” demanded Omas of Coseve, biting his dark full lips with his teeth.
      “If you take up the star weapons,” reasoned Chayin, “you might be able to withstand the at-tack that
would fall upon you from the north and south.”
      “The dhareners are greatly agitated. They may not let you keep Menetph. They are saying it is too’
much power for one man, and they like not the seeds of empire you sow,” added Locaer, his hands at his
sword belt, nervous, ever-moving.
      “Let them try to divest me of it,” Chayin growled, baring his teeth. And at that moment the keening of
the Menetpher death wail came to us upon the wind, which blew ever stronger, and from some-where in
the Menetphers’ appreis a gong tolled the years of Aknet’s life. Sand stung my naked arms, and dust
whorls danced upon the track’s raked surface.
      The cahndors regarded each other for a time in silence. Chayin was the first to break it, with a word
to me, and we walked ahead of the three cahndors, straight to the five dhareners and past them with only
a curt nod to Hael and his compan-ions, resplendent in their diverse Day-Keepers’ for-mal wear, to stop
before three in the black-and-gold knit coveralls of M’ksakkan Liaisons. I could feel Hael’s eyes upon
my back.
      The faces of the M’ksakkans bore the same shadow that had been upon the faces of the cahn-dors,
and r upon those Day-Keepers who stood to our right. News had doubtless reached, them.
      I heard Jaheil, Omas, and Locaer come up be-hind us. The Liaisons waited, as custom dictated, for
Chayin to speak. He did not, immediately, but scrutinized them so thoroughly that one turned a reddish
color and the other two could find no comfortable place to rest either eyes or hands. Jaheil, behind me,
cleared his throat. The dhareners soundlessly closed around us. When I thought my eardrums would
burst from the quiet, Chayin gave them imperious greeting.
     “You stand before me,” he allowed.
     “It is our honor to do so,” said the tallest of the three, whose hair and skin were the same shade of
tan. Not only did he speak flawless Parset, but’ he neatly avoided direct obeisance without giving
offense. I felt Chayin stiffen. He rested his right hand upon his hip and spat deliberately close to the
M’ksakkan’s shiny black boot. The M’ksakkan took no notice.
     “I am M’kai, Liaison Fourth to Yardum-Or,” he introduced himself. “This is the Liaison of Liaisons,
who has traveled the seas between the stars to meet, with you. Har-sai M’Erris, the cahndor of Nemar,
Chayin rendi Inkete.” The blond man in-dicated put out a freckled hand, which Chayin did not meet with
his.
     “And of Menetph, am I also cahndor,” said Chayin. M’Erris let his hand fall to his side.
     “And may I introduce your couch-mate?” asked the Liaison Fourth, to smooth things over. Chayin
had the chald of Menetph in his hands, and he played with it deliberately.
     “You might if she were here. This is Estri, Tiaskchan of Nemar, and temporary regent of Menetph.”
The insult was not lost upon the Liai-son Fourth. The M’ksakkan’s face grew pale, and he raked his
hand through his hair.
     “Cahndor, tiask, this is Fer-En M’Ras, who would be Liaison between my people and yours.” The
man nodded cautiously to Chayin, not willing to risk his hand. He had a harth beak of a nose, and his
eyes were mere slits upon either side of it.
     “I doubt that such a position will be established. Perhaps you were premature to fill it,” Chayin said.
     The Liaison Fourth looked like a man forced to choose between two equally torturous deaths.
     “Perhaps I could speak with you and your re-gent alone?”
     “Perhaps,” Chayin said.
     Rapidly M’Kai introduced the two off-worlders to the remaining cahndors, then invited us to fol-low
him up the steel ramp into the M’ksakkan ship. We entered the small cubical chamber, and the Liaison
Fourth waved a tan hand over a red glowing light. The steel door slid soundlessly shut, cutting us off from
the outside. My stomach rose and fell as the M’ksakkan punched out his destina-tion and the lift shot
upward. Lights chased each other across the control panel, steadied, and the clur slid aside. We emerged
into a round room the walls of which were viewers filled with Frullo jer. I saw the three small springs that
watered the jer, the appreis spread like tiny yris-tera pieces upon the ground far below.
     Chayin paid no attention, though he was surely less familiar with M’ksakkan technology than I. He
sat himself down upon the floor, ignoring the Aquastan contour lounges, and motioned to the Liaison
Fourth to seat himself opposite. The tanned man did so, with obvious unease. Friends never sit opposite
in the Parset Lands. I did not sit, but leaned against the wall at Chayin’s side, trying to control my feelings
in this M’ksakkan place.
     “Would you refresh yourself, Cahndor?” queried M’Kai.
     “No. Speak that which you would to me.” Chayin gave the M’ksakkan no title.
     “We have but moments before the others arrive. I beg you to consider our proposals. Your people
could reap a great benefit.”
     “Are you born of woman or test tube?” Chayin asked, and the M’ksakkan flinched.
     “Of woman,” he answered. “Your point is well taken. Most of the benefits have been in the past for
the Federate group, but we would change this and give you that which would make life easier for you:
great ships to sail the skies, wonders of dis-tant worlds, and the capacity to visit them.” These things he
offered Chayin were specifically forbid-den by the agreement made between the Day-Keepers and the
M’ksakkans at first contact. No weapons were to be brought upon Silistra for Silistran sale, and no
vehicles of any kind were to be upon the planet except for the Liaisons’ use. Not even off-world tourists
could_ ride hovers through our air.
     “What need have I for these things?” Chayin demanded. “I have no hurry. How long did your mother
live?”
     The M’ksakkan sighed. “She is still living. She is seven hundred and forty MIsakkan years old. My
grandmother, test-tube born, lives still also. And my great-grandmother died of natural causes at age
ninety-seven, before Silistra was brought into Federate Group. We acknowledge our debt to you. But
there are a great many more worlds that have not yet had the serums, where men still die after a handful
of years. We would spread your fame and your generosity upon these worlds, give the gift of life to those
who have not yet received it.”
     “For one with such altruistic motives, you have proceeded in a very unseemly fashion. Do you deny
that you aided Menetph against Nemar?”
     “No, I do not deny it. It was not my decision, nor would I have approved it if I had known. The
Liaison of Liaisons was precipitous in his actions. He knows little of—” And the steel doors opened to
admit the two M’ksakkans and the three remain-ing cahndors, who looked about them with uncon—
     1 52           Janet E. Morris cealed amazement. Jaheil, staring out the view wall, backed into a
pedestaled Torth sculpture and cursed loudly as it fell and shattered upon the star-steel floor. The Fourth
was up to soothe him, and soon had them seated upon the lounges all in a circle. Then he came back to
us and in a whisper begged Chayin to join them.
     This the cahndor was willing to do, and I fol-lowed his lead, perching myself on the edge of one of
the recurved chairs, which gave it much conster-nation as it tried to form to me. The harder I tried to
maintain my edge seat, the more the lounge lurched and rolled in an effort to enfold my backside. I
battled it for a few moments and then stood up again. Chayin reached out to me and set me on his lap,
worldless. The Liaison of Liaisons was speaking.
     Har-sai M’Erris spoke eloquently and at length to the cahndors of responsibility to galactic soci-ety
and the recompense the M’ksakkans would offer for access to an additional three shiploads of serums
per Silistran year. He intimated to us that if we would but allow them to do the cultivation and refinement
themselves upon Silistra (and in the process teach them how), that even greater rewards would be ours.
He spoke of galactic commerce, planetary gains; how anxious the Fed-erate Group was to welcome
Silistra as full-privileged among them. I watched him dig himself deeper and deeper into a pit of his own
prejudices. The Liaison Fourth’s expression became more hopeless the longer the M’ksakkan leader
spoke.
     The M’ksakkan seated himself. Omas, most inter-ested of the cahndors, looked truly troubled. The
Fourth asked us to voice our questions, hesitantly and with obvious trepidation.
     I could not resist. They did not know me. “What could you give me, that I do not already possess,
M’Erris? I have weapons enough and time upon my side. In my hundredth year I had sufficient wealth
gathered around me to feel secure. I need not one more bauble or pelt, and I want no ma-chines about
me. Can you give me peace of mind? Can you give me the enlightenment I seek? Can you free me from
my body’s bondage, from my mind’s quandary? It seems to me we seek different ends. If you must, bury
yourselves in your profits and losses. The desert is not in need of an addi-tional million grains of sand.” I
could feel Chayin chuckling.
     “We could turn the Parset Lands into a garden, fertile and green. We could fill the dead sea and
make rivers run again where only dry beds now stand,” said M’Erris of M’ksakka. Omas and Locaer
murmured to each other. Jaheil looked openly to-ward Chayin, who shook his head and motioned me up
off his lap. When I had done this, he stood and went to the view wall that overlooked the northwest. He
stared out at Opir and the shining that was the Opirian Sea, and I knew he weighed that temptation
against what he knew was right. Nemar, green and fertile. Is that what they had offered Aknet? To sail
ships again in the Parset sea, as our ancestors had done centuries ago. It was a danne dream, nothing
Chayin had ever con-ceived as possible. Faced with it, he took his time, and I could feel the veil coming
over him, as he sought the sort. Eventually he turned and leaned against the view screen. It seemed that
he rested there upon thin air, with his fingers wound in the chald of Menetph. Abruptly he threw it to me.
     “If this were done,” he said in a slow and trou-bled voice, “there would be no more Silistran serums,
for only in this climate upon the sands do the, plants grow, and the insects fly, and the animals which
complete the chain flourish.” His eyes saw other than the room around him. “Think you, brothers, of
dorkat and apth, of friysou and wir—
     ragaet, and all who thrive upon the sands. And another thing.” He faced M’Erris. It is no harm to us if
the serums be lost, nor to those of you who have had them, for as you know, once the adjust-ment is
made, it becomes hereditary. But why would the M’ksakkans destroy what they say they want? There is
less than truth here, or some twist-ing of it I fail to comprehend.”
      The Liaison Fourth rose and walked to where I leaned against a counter with an inset computer
terminal. He punched up a drink, and a panel slid aside that he might obtain it. He looked at me above
the rim of the glass. I realized my own thirst and joined him there. The board was similar to that in my
former couch-mate M’Lennin’s keep, and I punched up-two jeris. The Fourth raised an eyebrow but
said nothing. I took the two glasses and returned to Chayin’s side, handing him one. He sipped it
cautiously.
      “These changes would take time, Cahndor,” ex-plained M’Erris, accepting a green M’ksakkan drink
from the Fourth, “enough time so that the animal and plant life might adjust, and your people also, to a
new and better life.”
      “You dare to speak to me of time?” said Chayin incredulously. “What is the time now?”
      M’Erris consulted his, wrist chronometer, and gave Chayin answer in M’ksakkan reckoning.
      “Time is more than numbers upon a chronome ter’s face, off-worlder! And what you propose has
the smell of the abyss about it .. A wise, man precipi-tates no action born of another’s conception, and
what you propose is beyond mine. My answer is no!” And he seated himself once again upon the lounge.
“I do not trust.you. I believe you could to this thing, and I do not think it should be done.” He sipped the
jeri.
      “I beg you reconsider,” said the Liaison Fourth.
      “Perhaps at a later date we could meet again?” He spread his hands wide.
      “In a hundred years, then,” said Chayin, unsmil-ing, “approach me. If between now and then I have
changed my mind, we will supply you with the three shiploads, retroactive to this date.”
      “Could you produce so much?” wondered M’Erris, greed tempering his disappointment.
      “Dordassa alone could produce that amount,” boasted Jaheil, “were there ever the need.”
      Chayin leaned toward me and whispered in my ear. “Can you work the lift controls?” I allowed that I
could. Chayin stood.
      “Consider this, brothers,” he interrupted Omas’ query as to the life span of a M’ksakkan hover. “If
such a craft were desirable, we could simply go down into aniet and make our own!” His voice was
harsh. “And such cowards’ weapons also are extant there. Take up star weapons, and I might be
tempted to make such a journey.”
      M’Erris’ head whipped around sharply. His gaze followed us to the lift entry, eyes widening as I
keyed the door open.
      “And lastly,” said Chayin, his anger no longer hidden, “I bring to your attention the purpose of our
gathering here upon the lands of Nemar! I, for one, am most interested in the Golden Sword. I have threx
to work, and a race to win. I want this craft off my track within the enth. Keep you in mind, off-worlders,
that if men walk the land of Nemar uninvited, they find themselves crells in our service. That hospitality I
will extend to you also. Within the enth, begone from here!” And, he backed into the lift. I followed, and
the door slid shut behind md. I punched up the ground hatch, and the lift obeyed me, disgorging us onto
the ramp and into the wind-yellowed morning, where the dhareners still huddled in the shelter of the
ship’s bulk.
      Chayin ignored them and strode so fast across the track that I jogged to keep up. The wind whipped
around us, and I wished I had a Parset membrane to protect my eyes from the grit and dust.
      I heard pounding feet behind us as we reached the line of M’ksakkan guards, and Hael and an-other
dharener joined us, puffing in their undigni-fied haste.
      “Chayin, what happened?” Hael demanded.
      “I told them to approach me at a later date,” he said, not slowing his pace. The second dharener’s
face was striped laterally with blue and green lightning bolts, and he wore his tight-curled hair in two great
swirls about either ear.
      “You must meet with us, about the Menetph situation,” Hael demanded.
      “I meet with my rugs and mats. I am in need of sleep. Set me a dozen guards, that I may rest
undisturbed. If the wind dies before dark, wake me. The temporary regent of Menetph will rest with me.
I will come to you when I seek conversa-tion.”
     “There is much consternation among us,” said the Menetph dharener. “Surely your sleep could be
postponed for a little while.” His eyes were red, and I thought it not from the dust. Aknet had been much
loved among his people. We were among the threx fitters’ stalls, all curtained now against the gale.
     Chayin sighed and rubbed his neck as he strode through the almost deserted aisle. “I bow to your
need,” he said. “Give me until mid-meal. Have with you at that time suitable viands for four. Then will
your regent and I speak with you Now, leave us!”
     “But—”
     And Chayin stopped still in his tracks and glared at Hael and the objecting Menetpher.
     “Do my will, Menetpher, exactly and without question! I am not Aknet. If you would live to keep
another day, you had best get yourself from my sight!”
     Hael put his arm upon the Menetpher’s shoulder and turned him away, wordless. Chayin stood
watching until they disappeared among the appreis. He spat upon the ground and squinted into the
yellow-green sky.
     “If this wind does not let up, it bodes ill for the race,” he muttered. I put my hand on his arm.
     “It will. We have another day before first first,” I reassured him as he pulled me into the shelter of his
arm and we made our way through the food vendors’ stalls to the Nemarsi appreis.

V. The Golden Sword
      The wind had not let up by mid-meal, when Hael and Dyis, the Menetpher, awoke us from too little
sleep with a host of clumsy crells and a meal that would have fed thrice our number. The apprei growled
like distant thunder with the whipping wind upon it, and the sand riding those hot gusts out of the south
hissed its way into the apprei with their entrance, and my ears rang with the gale’s constant keening.
      “Even the air weeps for Aknet.” Dyis voiced my own thoughts as he sat himself upon my right and
shrugged off his cloak. The last of the crells departed, and Hael laced the flaps against the yel-low dusk
at midday. Truly, the very sky seemed to mourn Aknet’s passing.
      “Has the M’ksakkan ship departed?” Chayin demanded. He did not sit up, but still leaned na-ked
upon his side, his body curled around mine, so that my buttocks were against his belly. Hael lit a second
oil lamp apd sat beside Dyis.
      “As you instru6ted them, they left within the enth. Even now the obstacles are being built upon the
track. All will be in readiness. If the wind lets up, we can work the threx tonight. Moonlight is better than
this yellow dark.”‘
      Hael reached out and filled a bowl for Chayin, and one for himself. The Menetpher did the same for
me. And we ate in cold silence, though the day was more than warm.
      Chayin licked his fingers and refilled his bowl. None seemed willing to speak first.
      “You want to tell me, I suspect, that I cannot have a female regent in Menetph.” Hael started to
speak, but Chayin raised his hand. “Let us save what time we may. My appointment of Estri as regent
was qualified by the word ‘temporary.’”We had discussed this Before we slept, and I knew what Chayin
wanted of me.
      “I have no interest in Menetph,” I agreed.
      “I am pleased to hear it,” said Hael, “for we would not allow such an unprecedented regency.”
      “You had better close your mouth before a stray wirragaet lands in it, brother, and hear what I have
to say, else you may once again regret the looseness of your tongue.”
      Dyis shifted uncomfortably.
      “It is my intent,” Chayin continued, “to put Liuma as regent-in-trust to Menetph, her holding it for the
son she bears in her womb. And it would not be unfitting, under the circumstances, if her favorite
dharener accompanied her there. I am willing to abide a Menetpher Day-Keeper in Nemar, that we may
more quickly unify the two lands.”
      And indeed Hael’s mouth fell open, and the dharener of Menetph examined the nails of his right
hand. Ready to threaten and argue, they were unprepared for Chayin’s proposal.
     “What say you to this? Perhaps it is not a woman in Menetph which displeases you, but only the
indentity of her who sits in that place of power.” And he leaned back, amusement tugging at the corners
of his mouth. He had, in effect, given Menetph to his brother, to do with as he might choose.
     “I . I am overwhelmed,” said Hael, with more honesty than I had thought in him. “We would not have
asked so much of you. For Liuma, and for myself, I accept, if Dyis agrees.” He looked at the Menetpher,
who spread his fingers wide and stee-pled them before his face. The tattoos upon his cheeks seemed to
glow in the lamplight.
     160           Janet E. Morris
     “We must get the other dharener’s approval, of course. This is one contingency for which we were
not prepared,” he admitted. “I would be agreeable to such a move, in the name of peace.”
     “In the name of peace, then, get you from my sight and arrange what you will. If this is not acceptable
to you, perhaps I will have new dharen-ers to whom I might later make the same proposal, after I have
united all the Parset Lands under the device of Nemar,” Chayin said softly.
     “You leave us little choice, brother.”
     “Such was my intention. Go and persuade whom you must. I will hear no more on this subject until
after the race. Hael, send Liuma to me, and some-one clean up this clutter!”
     And without another word, Hael and Dyis de-parted, leaving me with the feeling that the thing had
been too easily done.
     “Think you that you are truly rid of him so easily?” I asked him. “Is that confrontation you sorted now
obviated?”
     “It is too early to tell, for the probability I seek to make real was not a strong one, while that which I
intend to avoid would have surely occurred. Is Menetph enough for them? I cannot tell. But for the
meanwhile, Hael is diverted. We will see what we shall see, when you and I go to Opir. If his lust is not
sufficiently sated, we will know it then.” He laced the last flap and came to sit beside me.
     “It is the hand of Tar-Kesa in this I fear,” I said, laying my head in his lap. “Hael may be distracted,
but such a one as his master is not so easily fooled.”
     “Sometimes I think you have a touch of foreread-er’s disease, Estri. Can you not hest your will?
Bring into being some other way, if what I chose does not please you.”
     “If one bends natural laws excessively, the pres-sure of the mass of distortion can make it
impossi-ble to even move within the sort. I would not create more disturbance until I have taken the
helsar’s teaching. Should I bring an alternate fu-ture into time now, I open myself to those stronger at
such skills than I. You be my eyes and ears this little while longer, and I will repay you later in kind.”
     “When all this is over, and your blindness leaves you, you must teach me this hesting,” he said, while
his hand wound in the chain around my neck. “At this moment you may begin making rep-arations for the
further inconvenience you will un-doubtedly cause me. Divested as you are of all rank and
privilege”—and he tightened his grip upon the golden chain, drawing me up against his chest—“you are
helpless before me.” He growled, his teeth and tongue upon my neck.
     “Helpless,” I agreed, “and without hope of rescue.
     “Utterly without hope,” he affirmed, pushing me down upon the mat, where I attempted to begin
discharging my obligations. I found it suit-able at that time to recollect certain of my Well-Keepress’
skills, and was still at my remembrances upon Chayin’s prostrate form when a cacophony of angry
voices reached us from without the apprei.
     “This is absurd,” I whispered, and rested my head upon his muscle-taut belly, looking into his face.
     “Let us ignore this disturbance,” he commanded, his hand twisting in my hair. I could feel the pulse of
him against my cheek.
     “It is your couch-mate, certainly,” I gasped when he let go his grasp for a moment.
     “She will wait this short time longer.” And his tone brooked no argument, nor did his eagerness need
more than the touch of my tongue to bear fruit, nor was my own body hesitant to take what pleasure the
moment afforded.
     “I promise you,” he said, hunting up his breech
      1 62          Janet E. Morris among the mats, “that before we leave Frullo jer we will get you
properly couched,” and he pulled my hair and went and once again unlaced the flaps. I did not bother to
do more than roll upon my belly to watch, the uritheria medallion cool and hard between my breasts.
      In she swept, all swathed in the sheerest emer-ald web-cloth edged with tiny gold beads that jin-gled
against one another as she moved. Black eyes painted with sun tones were all that was visible of her face,
but her belly was exposed and wound around with golden links, and in her navel rested a shiny gold
nugget the size of a well token. She threw herself into Chayin’s astonished arms in full view of the crells
and guards who clustered around the apprei. I got up and laced the flaps.
      The Nemarchan wept copiously, her face pressed to Chayin’s chest. He stroked her multiplaited
black hair, from which the emerald cloth had fallen. His eyes met mine, and he rolled his upward. I was
not amused. I sat back among the mats in the apprei’s darkest corner before Liuma regained her
self-control and raised her perfect face, somehow unmarked by tears, from his shoulder. I had to admit
she was beautiful, with her delicate, almost miniature features and those huge evening eyes set aslant in
her head.
      She sank down before Chayin and put her head to his feet.
      “Please, Chay, please do not send me away,” came her muffled voice, soft but distinct from be-neath
the hundred plaits of her hair. “Whatever you feel for me, you would not slay your son.” By this time
Chayin was on his knees beside her, his arms about her shoulders, trying to raise her up. This the
Nemarchan allowed, and now her face shone wet with tears. “He is your son! No matter what you think!
If you were not so ill”—she smiled bravely, reached out her hand to touch his mouth with a trembling
finger—“you would know it. The child is yours. I am yours. Do not send us away.” And she again
collapsed against him where he knelt beside her.
      “I thought it what you wanted, Liuma,” he said, stroking her head helplessly. “It matters not to me
whose the child is. It is enough that Nemar has an official heir. And Menetph, too.” His voice was all
confusion. “This is no banishment, but a chance for you to rule your own life and do that which you
choose.” He grasped her by the shoulders and held her at arm’s length, and I turned my head to the
apprei wall and wished desperately that I were elsewhere.
      “It has been long since there was more than politeness between us, Liuma. I am overwhelmed by this
sudden show of devotion.” His words were strong, but his voice betrayed him. He coughed. “I cannot
change this arrangement. I have given my word. Surely Hael did not send you here to refuse it.”
      “No. He cannot see what lies before his face. I know what you are doing!” Furiously she wrenched
her shoulders from his grasp. “I saw. You and the northern woman! I will not die the death you, have in
mind for me! I will not!” And she got to her feet, and her midnight eyes flashed. “The uritheria and the
hulion, upon the plain before a place of rain-bow towers! And the opening sky, and you and Hael! I saw
it all! Even the vengeance He will wreak upon us all for your defiance! By all you hold sacred, Chayin,
keep me and our child at your side. It is our only hope!”
      Chayin rubbed his shoulder with his hand and got slowly to his feet. He stared down at her, and
finally he shook his head slowly from side to side.
      “You did see, Liuma. I had not thought you possessed that much skill.” And the confusion was gone
from out of him. “But you only saw the beginning, or you would not ask me to do that which cannot be
done. You must be in Menetph. I must be where I must be. The child will survive.”
      “And Hael? And I? Even yourself, do you know that? Oh, please, forgive me!”
      “Only that the child will live. That is the only assurance I have to give.” He spread his hands and
dropped them at his side. “You were as much a part of the forming of this future as I. There is only that
which will come to pass. There is no forgive-ness or blame, no amnesty or safety, except what one’s
own self can provide. Go now! This quaking before owkahen does not become you!”
      And I saw the stunned disbelief in her face as he escorted her to the apprei’s entrance and beyond
into the small knot of crells and guards that still waited there in the abrasive whining wind. It snapped the
open flaps with a sound like the strike of a huija, and sand devils danced upon the mats and dust
darkened the air. I paid it no mind, but lay watching as Chayin stood with Liuma leaning against him in the
haze, and the crells who had been awaiting this moment entered the apprei to clean away the remains of
our meal. In the process, one of them, a female, tripped in the flickering dust-hazed lamplight and
sprawled among the cushions, showering me with crumbs and bones and dregs of kifra. I cursed her and
leaped to my feet and kicked out at her as she knelt among the garbage, sending her sprawling, prostrate
in the mess she had made.
     By the time I had collected my temper, the crell had still not moved, but cowered, head pressed to
the mat, buttocks in the air before me. Shame coursed hot through me, and I bade her clean up and get
herself from my sight. I turned away and went to stand in the apprei’s doorway. Chayin still attended the
Nemarchan, oblivious to the wind. The crells sidled by me with whispered excuses on their lips, eyes
downcast. Chayin turned from Lima, and two of the guards escorted her into the yellow ambience. The
last crell, the clumsy one, had just finished her reparations, when Chayin crossed the apprei’s threshold.
She went down upon her knees to him. He waved her up impatiently.
     “Get you up and out of here, crell,” he dismissed her, holding the flap, which writhed and snapped
with a life of its own. “It is thick as sucksand out there,” he said to me. But I had seen Khemi’s face as
she rose and hurried out, and Chayin struggled with the flaps against the insistent wind.
     I watched with folded arms as he jerked tight the knot and stalked around the, apprei. He was as
light as a M’ksakkan, all covered with the yellow dust. He threw himself, down upon the mats and stared
at the apprei’s undulating walls. Liuma had done her work well, and the veil was heavy upon him. After a
time, I went to him, but he did not see me. I raised his head and slid my legs under. I ventured into his
pain that I might lead him out of it, and there I met that probability of which Liuma had spoken, and it
was nothing spawned of mortal conception. Uritheria blazed and writhed its anger against some great
midnight beast for which a hulion might have been microscopic model, and that thing answered with
breath of ice, and their roaring ripped apart the firmament, exposing the grids of nonspace apulse. There I
found Chayin, he frozen with horror at what he would do, and it was all I could do to bring him back with
me, against the current, as time-space poured through that hole the beasts had made in their death
struggle, and plain and towers crumbled around us as we fled.
     He reached up and put his hand on my neck, and I bent and kissed him. His face shone with sweat:
     “How does one know,” he asked me softly, “which among them all is the right way? Who should die,
and who should live? So many ways, and no cri-teria with which to choose between them.” He turned his
head against my belly.
     “I do not know,” I replied. “But I too seek that answer. If there ever was, some future in which all
received benefit and none became sacrifice, it is no longer. With power, comes powerful burden.”
     “And yet, one cannot refuse to choose, else we be but pawn in some other’s choosing.”
     “Which might be worse than our own. I know too well.” I laughed bitterly. “It is a. road upon which
there is no turning back, for it forms before us as it dissolves behind. Layer upon layer of relevance,
floating on a sea of chance, which recog-nizes only change. My father once told me that there is no value
but the value one chooses, that which we manifest through our conception.”
     “It was my conception that Liuma would take joy in that which I did.” He raised himself up upon one
elbow, looking into my face. “Have I unknowing consigned her to her death?”
     “Did you see it so?”
     “Not hers. Hael’s or my own, but not hers. Was I blinded by what I would not accept?”
     “Chayin, she plays with you. She saw what you saw and made .a guess at what guilts could be pulled
therefrom. Even if a woman no longer loves a man, she wants no other to have him. She thought to turn
your illness against you, and with wily skill, for she is an accomplished forereader. If there is one thing I
know, it is such manipulation. She would not stay her, hand from Menetph. She merely wants you as well
as Hael under her spell, that she might rule through you both.”
     “How could it be my child in her?”
     “You will have to ask her that,” I said.
     “I did so. She says it is my son she bears, and
     THE GOLDEN SWORD I67
     even Tar-Kesa will confirm her. But I have hardly touched her this last year.”
     “God or man, it is still sperm and egg. What did you expect her to say? That it is the dharener’s child
she carries, and thus lose herself all she will gain by being mother to the heir of Menetph and Nemar? In
the north we have ways of determining these things. Send her north and find out, if you will.”
     “She would not do that,” he said positively.
     “Exactly. She would not loose her hold upon you. Nor would she endanger her life by holding strong
to thoughts of death. She has no forereader s disease.”
     He reached up and pulled me down beside him. “Jealous she-apth!” he accused.
     “Doubtless,” I admitted. “But remember: for what is between us, there is no solution.” And I twisted
in his grasp so that my back was to him.
     “One can do no better than one expects. When I said that, the veil was heavy upon me.” His body
was of a sudden like stone against;mine.
     And I was sorry that I had said it, and tried to turn back to face him, but his arms held me like a vise
and I could not.
     “Lie still,” he ordered, “or sleep by yourself.” And I did as he bade me, and sleep took us our
separate ways.
     He woke me a time later for a savage and word-less couching, and when I sank back into dreams,
they were so troubled I could not bear them. I lay long enths staring wide-eyed at the apprei walls. Long
I thought upon the dreams’ meanings, and of what I had seen in Chayin’s mind, and since such things
could not come to pass, I called them alle-gory and mind mischief to case myself. I could not believe it,
even then.
     When we awoke, the wind had stopped, but only when he shook my shoulder did I realize it, for the
helsar, growing ever stronger, had lured me from my stance between sleep and waking with its
whis-pered songs. I sat up cold and trembling, and he mistook my confusion for displeasure, apologizing
for what had passed between us. I leaned against him and said nothing.
     One of the oil lamps had gone out while we rested. He filled and lit it, and opened the flaps. Two
guards stood revealed at their watch against a still and starry night. Dust lay like golden snow upon the
appreis and the aisles between them un-der the full but waning moon. We had slept the day away.
     The two guards were quick to attend him. He motioned one in, and the man stood nervous be-tween
the flaps, his eyes flitting everywhere that they might not rest upon me. I stretched luxuri-ously and busied
myself with my sleep-tangled hair.
     “Speak, man. What holds your tongue?” de-manded Chayin.
     The guards sighed and shuffled his dusty feet. “Cahndor, Wiraal has arrived from Nemar North and
begs audience.”
     “How long ago?”
     “At first dark, when the wind had just stopped.” The guard wet his lips. “The dharener has been here
and left word that he has seen to the threx, and the cahndor should not trouble himself. Jaheil of
Dordassa has been here thrice and left invita-tion for you both to join him in his apprei at your
convenience.” He cleared his throat. “And the dharener and high chalder of Menetph have come twice
here. And”—he seemed to search for a word—“your couch-mate also left her greeting.”
     “No doubt. Is that all?”
     “No, Cahndor,” he said hesitantly. “All nine of the tiaskchans came here”together, and they would
see you with certain complaints they aired to me but which it would not be my place to repeat. And the
threx masters sent a message that at sun’s rising all who ride must be weighed and weighted, and the
threx master of Menetph begs consulta-tion before that time.”
     “And is there any more?”
     “No, Cahndor.”
     “Send a man to fetch us food, and rana if any can be found.” The guard nodded and turned to go.
     “I am not yet finished.” Chayin’s voice snapped him around. “I will see Wiraal as soon as you can get
him here. Have the chalder and dharener of Menetph, and Hael also, meet me at the threx masters’
pavilion an enth before sun’s rising. The Menetpher threx master wants to know who shall ride in Aknet’s
place. Tell him the choice be his. And repeat this to him exactly. I want no call of unfair play. If he can
beat Nemar, let him do so. It is not men but threx we race here on the morrow. And one more message,
to the tiaskchans, that their complaints have been noted, and only I am qualified to adjudge the solution.”
     “But you do not—”
     “Know what their complaints are? Your cahndor is a god, man! The tiaskchan Estri’s conduct at my
service is no business of theirs.”
     “You want me to tell them that, Cahndor?” The man was horrified.
     “Send someone against whom you have a grudge to do it,” Chayin advised. “Now, begone before
my hunger makes me irritable.”
     The guard backed out of the apprei, and then began much shouting and pounding of feet as he
delegated the tasks that Chayin had set him.
     “What about Jaheil?” I asked as we dressed.
     “I think we will accept his invitation.” He peered through the open flaps at the stars, he dug out his
uris pouch and handed it to me. I wondered, as the taste of it sent a thrill through my body, how I ever
did without it, Thus emboldened, I bested my hair clean and tangleless, not caring that Chayin saw me or
that the helsar shifted where it lay.
     Chayin raised an eyebrow. I grinned at him. “I have no comb here,” I explained.
     “I will buy you one, lest you usurp my godhead from me with such tricks.”
     “That is all it is,” I assured him, “simply a trick of, polarity.”
     “You had best save some for Sereth the Ebvrasea. I had a dream of dire portents.” And he finished
pulling on his boot and leaned close, taking me in his arms.
     “I have no fear with you to protect me,” I told him.
     “I have told you that I am bound by his will in this matter, and before his wrath I cannot stand for
you. Before Hael I can protect you, or Liuma, or even all the tiaskchans of Nemar, but not to Sereth will
I raise, my hand. It is not that I would not, but that I cannot.” He grasped me by the shoulders and held
me at arm’s length, as I had seen him hold Liuma.
     “I understand,” L said, though I did not, and a great commotion presaged the entrance in quick
succession of Wiraal and our meal, and as we ate, the jiaskcahn gave his report. Nothing had been
overlooked. He had even brought the crell Aje, as I had instructed him to do if his wounds were healed.
They filled three places fallen empty in the cahn-dor’s personal yra of twenty-one jiasks that would
follow Chayin to Mount Opir, and the three of us searched for a way to circumvent with a likely story the
tiaskchans’ displeasure at being excluded.
     “I do not think it will work,” commented Wiraal.
     “It had better. I cannot take tiasks among north-ern men, lest they kill each other instead of the
enemy.”
     “Then tell them that,” Wiraal proposed, rubbing his jaw with his gnarled hand.
     “You tell them. I have not the time or the incli-nation to bother with them.”
     “They are not pleased at our conduct; they sent some representatives here with complaints,” I
interjected.
     Wiraal looked at me out of icy eyes. “None of us are easy about you, tiask.” I rose and got the
bitless headstall Chayin had given me, and walked out into the night.
     “Wait,” said Chayin, and joined me outside.
     “I am going to try this upon Guanden,” I said, shaking his restraining hand from my arm. “I will see
you when you are finished with the dharener and the chalder and the threx masters and your ill-mannered
subordinates,”
     “I must send two men with you, then,” he insisted, and snapped his fingers at two of the score that
waited about the apprei to do his will.
     With the jiasks to protect me, I had no trouble among the aisles, or even upon the track, for they
saddled their own mounts and accompanied me as I walked Guanden around the course, that he might
sniff the obstacles newly built there. The bitless headstall proved successful; he even carried his head
lower, and it took just the slightest pressure of the single braided rein upon his nose to make him obey. I
worked him longer than needful, even chancing a full nera’s run, and found busywork upon my gear until
sun’s rising, when I turned him to the threx masters’ yellow pavilion, the rest-less and tight-mouthed
jiasks following dispirit-edly behind. They had had other plans for this time.
     And I did not blame them. The polyrhythmic thrum of dhrouma and kapura players mixed with voices
raised in song, and the jer fairly seethed with life. Hundreds had arrived during the night, and festival was
upon them with the dawn of Amarsa first first.
     It was slow going through the pedestrians, many drunk and reeling, to the threx masters’ pavilion. I
dismounted, and led Guanden, whose ears were flat to his head above rolling eyes. Within the pavilion
were scales upon which we were both weighed. Guanden was taken from me by a threx-man to be
tested for health and pronounced free of drugs or devices.
     I drew third slot from the inside, out of fifteen positions, between a flask of Dordassa, who had
second, and a spare rangy Menetpher, who had fourth. Then we were each called up and received a flat
racing pad with pockets for deadweight in them. Mine was heavily loaded, for I was lightest weight
among the riders. Chayin lounged against the huge pavilion’s far wall, Jaheil beside him.
     When Guanden was returned to me, I set the racing saddle, which weighed almost as much as I with
stra rods in its pockets, upon his back and went to receive waiver from the high threx master that I might
use the bitless headstall. When that was done, I relinquished him into the care of the threxmen and found
my way across the threx-crowded pavilion to Chayin and Jaheil, my two guards close behind me. I could
not even get near my mount again until second section was called and I and the fourteen other riders went
to see which five would race the final section.
     “What number did you get?” Chayin demanded, as I sidled through, the jiasks to join him. My guards
stood uncertain with their mounts in hand, watching.
     “Dismiss them,” I begged him. Chayin did so. Three in the second section,” I answered. “And I am
seventh in the first,” the cahndor told me. “And Jaheil, with Dordassar luck, has first in the first. You
should have no trouble with the elimination; all your competition runs first section.”
     “Except Menetph, which has three mounts in my group,” I reminded him. “And I have almost my
own weight in stra to carry.”
     “I told you to eat a bigger meal.” Chayin grinned. A gong sounded loud in my ears.
     “First call,” Jaheil chortled. “Give me a kiss for luck,” he demanded, and I did so, and Chayin also
did I wish well, and then ran through the crowd into the new day to find a place near the ta-nera pole,
that I might see the winner pass it. I squeezed my way between two men in plain leathers, who had upon
their breast armor no device, but, each wore around his waist a scarlet sash, and I knew them to be
some who attended as guests of Nemar.
     My stomach was an aching, knot, and my throat was dry, but I knew my nerves. My indisposition
would pass when I sat upon. Guanden’s back.
     Another gong’s stroke ushered the threx out of the pavilion, and they foimed up into a ragged line of
snorting, frothing excitement. Facing left upon the track, they waited the huija crack that would start
them. I was so close to Jaheil’s red mount that I could see the sweat break out upon his flanks. Chayin,
down the line, sat Saer with the calmness of a man ready to jog around his holdings, and the dappled
threx stood, with ears flicking and head held low, as if he were in his stall in Nemar North.
     For one moment, each of the beasts faced front, and all was in readiness; the threx master gave the
signal, lest the opportunity be lost. So close upon the huija’s crack did the beasts spring forward that the
sound was lost in the thunder of their start.
     By the time the dust settled so that I could see, they had passed over the tyla-palm break at the first
turn and were close upon the ditch at the sa-nera pole. I jumped up and down to peek over the heads of
those before me, and the plain-leathered man upon my right picked me up bodily and sat me upon his
broad shoulders. I yelped and pounded upon his helmet when I saw Saer ‘s dap-pled form fly over the
ditch with Jaheil’s red mount close behind. A pure white beast with the Menetph black-and-amber
hooding his head did not fare so well, but misjudged his leap and floundered, to be pummeled by a dun
whose saddle pad proclaimed him of Coseve.
     Then they were at the half, and a black began to move among the bunched threx.
     A deafening roar rose around me as the black began to move upon the leaders. The white threx who
had gone down at the ditch had not risen. Gaen were hurried onto the track to drag him from it before
the second lap. The dun threx who had crashed into him was limping slowly toward the inner field, his
rider beside him. Two out.
     The black threx, whose pad was of Nemar, had closed upon the leaders as they entered the stone
chutes set diagonally across the track. Two grays of Coseve followed them into it, and when the leaders
reemerged, the grays were close upon them. With enviable skill the Coseve riders had paced their beasts
at the perfect speed for the chutes, exploding from them with a burst of speed that brought their muzzles
to the tails of the leaders, still collected up from the chutes’ narrow confines.
     I saw Chayin throw his mount sideways as the grays flanked him. Then they were packed tight at the
ca-nera pole and straining toward us, Chayin’s Saer on the inside, one gray pocketed behind him by his
mate on the outside, and Jaheil’s red behind. The black threx, who I now saw was Quiris, came up to
match Saer, blocking the Cosevers’ path again. And while Chayin and Hael held the grays in check, they
slowed their own mounts. Jaheil, as if expect-ing this, had dropped back and out, loosing his red in a
great burst of speed upon a clear track. Past me Jaheil sped, and again over the tyla-break and into the
second lap, while the grays were still held entrapped between Quiris and Saer and the tight field closing
behind them.
     Then, as if of one mind, Hael and Chayin loosed both Saer and Quiris after Jaheil, while the
unob-structed grays of Coseve matched them stride for stride, not a nostril’s difference between them as
they took the tyla-break four abreast.
     Jaheil had the half, and started slowing then for the chutes. He could have walked him through them,
such a lead did the Dordassar have upon the rest.
     I saw Saer snap out at the gray, who seemed to bump him, and Chayin’s hand raised from his
mount’s neck, and the two of them fell back, while Hael and the second gray matched each other, less
than a threx-width between them over the ditch. The moment they landed upon the far side, Jaheil passed
before me in a red blur, and the volume of the shouting doubled as Parsets screamed them-selves
voiceless.
     The man whose shoulders I rode reached to lift me down, and when I was on the ground, Hael
passed before me, a quarter-length behind the first Coseve gray, and at that one’s tail was Chayin, and
the other Coseve gray a half-length to the rear.
     I was still struggling through milling, close-packed Parsets when the gong rang for second section. In
my haste I jostled a man queued up to collect his bet, and coins went flying. He cursed me as I ran. I
laughed.
     Into the yellow pavilion I stumbled, just as a roar behind me signaled the brief presentation of golden
knives finished. I would not have time to congratulate the first-section winners.
     Down the rows of restless threx I hurried, until I
     reached the line of second-section threx in order before track entry.
     I smiled at the man who held him. Guanden snapped at me nervously. He was already damp and
trembling. He had done this before, and the crowds were nothing new to him. He was ready and anxious
for what he knew awaited us. I checked my saddle girth, every strap and buckle, and his feet one at a
time, though I knew it had already been done. I made a mental note to shave his bristles, which flopped
bead-heavy around him. I took off my cloak and handed it to my threxman, and donned the tiask’s mask
of plain leather, that I might have some protection for my face against flying dirt and stones.
     The gong chimed, and I took the leg up the threxman offered me. Then it was just Guanden and I,
and what we would do this day. I took up the braided circle of rein and stood once in the saddle, then
settled myself, my knees tight against his ribs, prominent through the padded web of the racing pad. The
rana-brown rear of the second-place threx, ridden by the Dordassar tiask, moved before me, and I took
Guanden out onto the track.
     When his feet touched it, he stopped, his nose raised up to the sky, turning his head to and fro,
questing. He shivered, and in answer to the pres-sure of my knees danced to his place between the
brown and the golden mount of the Menetpher who was. fourth.
     Not one moment could I keep his four feet upon the ground. He walked upon his hind legs, he
screamed his high-pitched challenge to the others, kicking and snapping. The golden Menetpher threx
answered him, and for a moment the two of them stood together upon the air, teeth flashing. I wrapped
length after length of rein round my fists, until his head was pressed to his chest. I saw the Menetpher
strike his beast viciously between the ears, and the golden threx came down heavily upon his four feet,
head between his knees. The Menet-pher grinned at me, where I still struggled with Guanden. I might
have struck such a blow myself, if I had had a free hand. At last I got him, for one instant, upon four legs
and facing straight ahead, and the attentive threx master’s huija cracked out loud in the stillness.
      Guanden’s first leap near to pulled my arms from my sockets. I loosed two loops of rein and let him
go. I could do little else. He was oblivious of me. I crouched down, my head upon his neck. The ground
sped by my tearing eyes. The golden Menetpher threx was the only one I could see be-fore me. His rider
headed him into the tyla-break at an alarming speed. I fought with Guanden for control, that I might aid
him at the leap, but he would have none of me. He soared over the five-palm break with such a mighty
thrust of his hindquarters that we landed a length beyond it, and almost upon the Menetpher’s tail.
Guanden screamed his challenge, and the gold threx’s an-swer came to us on the wind. I saw the
Menetpher’s hand rise and fall on the beast’ flanks, and he leaped away from us once more. I risked a
look around and saw the Dordassar tiask and three others close behind. The ditch past the half was
beneath us, and still I did my best to hold Guanden, and the harder I tried, the more he screamed and
twisted, that I might release him, and he catch the beast who dared run before him. But I did not. Not
until we twisted right, left, and right again in bone-jarring leaps and came out of those fiendish stone
chutes did I free him. The threx knew what he was about. Not once had he broken stride in the chutes. I
gave him more rein and closed my eyes, my cheek pressed to his hot, slippery neck. I barely opened
them ih time to see the ta-nera pole flash by. The golden threx loomed ever closer. Over the tyla-break
we gained a stride, and at the ditch another. It was a two-threx race. I could no longer see the others
through our dust. I gave Gttanden the final two loops I held as we came again into the chutes, and threw
my weight to the right as the threx changed strike-foot. Then left, and right, and as we hit open track, I
smacked him with the flat of my hand upon his rump.
      In vain did the golden threx’s rider ask him for speed, in vain did he urge his mount to keep his lead.
Guanden’s shrill high voice rang once again upon the track, to be swallowed up in the stamp-ing crowd’s
roar as we came abreast of the Menet-pher. Nostril-to-nostril for three leaps, and in that time the
Menetpher’s hand flashed out, and a leather whip struck Guanden in the chest. Guanden bellowed,
leaping ahead. As we passed the ta-nera pole, he was a threx length in front of the Menet-pher.
      It took me almost a quarter-nera to turn him. I would not call foul upon the Menetpher. He had won
us the race with his unseemly gesture. I could feel Guanden’s rage, as we came abreast of the Menetpher
and his golden threx awaiting their reward before the threx master’s yellow apprei. The brown Dordassar
threx had placed third, a tan with black legs from Itophe was fourth, and another golden Menetpher
beast, had the fifth position.
      I rode Guanden to the place of honor before the threx master, putting his tail in the face of the
Menetpher threx who had been second. I stroked his neck. He was not too tired to trumpet his disdain
for his, rival in ear-shattering tones, nor to attempt to take >a chunk of the threx master’s arm as the man
handed me the gold-hiked knife we had won. I accepted his congratulations, feeling cold and undeserving
and alone among them. I had only done what the time demanded. I felt no triumph or joy until I saw
Chayin, his face alight, with Jaheil behind him, making their way toward me through the crowd.
      The threxman assigned to Guanden was at his head, stroking it, and amazingly enough, the
ill-tempered beast stretched out his crested neck and closed his eyes, that the threxman might scratch the
wet hide under his jowls. I dismounted, that the threxman might cool him and care for him until the final
race at mid-meal, and the man handed over to me the Shaper’s cloak encased in brown web-cloth that I
had entrusted to him. He touched my arm and showed me the place upon Guanden’s chest where blood
dripped from a flesh wound. I leaned closer to examine it, and our heads met.
      “I would not mention to the cahndor how this cut came to be here,” he said.
      “I had not intended to,” I whispered back.
      “Good.” And his glance was conspiratorial. “Rest assured, we will take care of this matter, when the
time is right.” He straightened up and led Guanden into the yellow pavilion. I latched the cloak at my
throat and threaded the golden knife upon my weapons belt. When I looked up, Chayin stood less than a
threx length away, engaged in discreet con-versation with Hael and the Menetpher dharener, while Jaheil
made exaggerated faces and impolite signs behind the Day-Keepers’ backs.
     I threaded my way toward them through the crowd, only understanding Jaheil’s gestures when a
hand clapped me heavily upon the back. It was Pijaes, the tiaskchan with whom I had conversed at my
enchalding, and beside her Nineth, she to whom had given Besha’s clothing. They were both maskless.
     I accepted their effusive and slightly drunken congratulations, and begged my leave of them. Over
Nineth’s massive shoulder I saw Chayin and the dhareners fall silent, staring apprehensively in my
direction.
     “You are going with Chayin to Mount Opir?” Pi jaes demanded, her hand upon my arm. I admitted
that I was.
     “Surely with your great influence upon him, you could persuade our cahndor that a yra of tiasks
would not be out of place upon this journey. It would do you much good among your sisters.” And
Nineth leaned her bulk toward me suggestively.
     “Could you fill me a yra of volunteers who would go maskless and take up the customs of the north?
What is normal practice among northern men might be cause for a death match in Nemar. It would take
tiasks of great restraint and understanding to spend time among such as the Ebvrasea’s renegade
Slayers.”
     “I could do that easier than preserve peace in Nemar if such an honor is denied us,” Nineth sniffed.
     “I will volunteer, and even more, guarantee ten others,” said Pijaes.
     “And I will find the other ten, though I cannot go myself,” said Nineth. Chayin beckoned me ur-gently
from behind their backs. “Many will be anxious to follow her who was victorious at Frullo jer. l
     “I have not won it yet,” I reminded her. “But if Pijaes will truly go, and be responsible for the flasks’
conduct, and promise me that no blood will be shed other than at the cahndor’s order, I will arrange it.”
And at this they were satisfied, and let me by them to Chayin, who took me into his arms and swung, me
off, the ground.—
     “What passed with them?” he whispered urgently as he held me close.
     “We will have a yra of tiasks with us upon Mount Opir, with Pijaes at their head,” I answered him as
he put me on my feet once more. “I could do no different.”
     He stepped back from me. “I think you have overstepped your authority.” His face was stern and his
tone far from loving.
     “They are your tiasks.” I would have said more, but Jaheil stepped between us and crushed me
against him. When I thought I would die of his congratulations, he released me. I felt gingerly of my ribs,
lest some might be broken from his ferocity. Hael and Dyis stood by Chayin, and each wore the other’s
chald.
     “Why the drawn face?” ‘Hael asked me. “If you are so conditioned to struggle that you cannot
experience victory when it manifests, in time it will cease to visit you.”
     “Are you now dharener of Menetph?”
     “Your eyes do not deceive you,” he said, finger-ing the strange chald of Menetph at his waist.
     “Then save your counsel for Menetphers,” I ad-vised him. I turned to Dyis.
     “What is the time, dharener?” I asked him.
     He raised his hands, palm upward toward me.
     “Put me not in the middle between you, tiask.”
     “I asked you what you see.”
     ‘ “I have studied the yris-tera throw for this time,” he admitted. “I am not objective.”
     “Talking to one is talking to any. They are interchangeable,” Chayin growled.
     The Menetpher-now-Nemarsi dharener grinned, and the green-and-blue lightning bolts tattooed
upon his cheeks wriggled.
     “What has you in such a foul mood, Chayin?” I asked him.
     He stared at me coldly, then took my arm and led me away from the others to the corner of the threx
masters’ yellow pavilion. There he let go of me, and his hands toyed in the doubled chald he wore. I
heard the gong for the third section chime.
     1 82          Janet E. Morris
     “I must spend some time with Liuma,” he said to me. “There is much to do before this evening. We
leave for Mount Opir at sun’s rising. The jiasks ... and tiasks”—and he shook his head—“will stay an
extra day here. The Ebvrasea’s emissaries are among us. You and I will go ahead with them. Wiraal
knows the way and will be in overall charge.” He leaned back against a stanchion and rubbed that place
where his neck met his shoulder. “Make sure your tiasks understand this.
     “You would be advised,” he continued, “to keep your mask upon you until you stand before Sereth,
and to conduct yourself as much like a tiask as you can manage until that time.”
     “What would you have me do while you are busy with Liuma?” I asked softly.
     “Whatever you choose.” A great roar signaled the end of the third-section race.
     “I choose to do your will.” I wondered who had won.
     “Why did you have that crell brought here?”
     “Aje? I had thought to take him north with us and free him.”
     “Free him now, then. A tiask couching the cahndor of Nemar and Menetph should have no need of a
male crell.” The membrane flicking across his eyes belied his calm. “I have arranged for you to spend the
night in Jaheil’s apprei. I want you safe under his protection.”
     “And who will protect me from Jaheil?”
     He shrugged. “Do as I bid you. And another thing. Speak to no one you do not know!”
     “I will have to speak a number of times to those I do not know in order to, get Aje suitably prepared
to take up his freedom. I would not turn him out threxless, weaponless, or without proper provi-sions.”
     “Jaheil will accompany you.” And he started back toward the others.
     “Have you no special strategy for the race?” I asked him, hurrying to keep up.
     “None that involves you.” And he knew that I knew what he and Hael had done. “I would not
discuss such matters, were ‘I you,” he warned me as we came upon Jaheil and Dyis, Nemar’s new
dharener.
     So it came to be that Jaheil was with me when I went and bought, upon the credit that the uritheria
medallion gave me, a good young red threx for Aje, and an assemblage of plain but well-crafted
weapons, such functional trail clothing as one can get for another without knowing size, and enough
provisions for the trail to Stra.
     We went then, loaded threx in hand, to the pit where all the Parset crells were kept together.
     The crellkeep was a long time finding him, and Jaheil gloated nonstop about his triumph and pulled
intermittently upon a kifra bladder he had with him. He was giving me the history in great detail of the
Tycel son, Tycet, the golden threx who had been second to Guanden, when the crellkeep returned with
Aje.
     “Take those chains from him! I left instructions that he not be bound.” Aje’s confusion was mir-rored
in the crellkeep’s face as he freed the crell’s wrists.
     “It is your business what you do with him in your apprei, tiask,” the crellkeep muttered, “but I cannot
have unbound crells in the pits.”
     “I will not be bringing him back,” I said. The crellkeep looked at me askance.
     “Come here, Lalen of Stra,” I said gently, and he came and stood beside me, eyes upon his feet in
good crell fashion. I touched his i ,,ulder, where the huija had left great toothmark:—u wi him. Even the
brown salve of the south had not been suffi-cient to repair, scarless, Besha’s work.
     “Look at me,” I suggested. He did so, pale eyes
     184           Janet E. Morris devoid of understanding. “You are free. This threx is for you, and what
is upon her also, and this.” I held out in my hand a pouch. He did not move to take it. I shook it so the
coins jangled. I took his hand and put the pouch in it. He looked from his open palm to me.
     “You will have to buy your own boots.” I grinned at him.
     And slowly his face lit up, and he too smiled uncertainly, as if remembering some skill long forgotten.
I went to him then and put my arms around him, for I knew he would not dare such a thing. Jaheil snorted
and muttered, and I saw the lingering crellkeep’s scandalized face.
      Then I stepped back from him. “I could not get your chald.”
      “It does not matter,” he said. His eyes were upon the red threx.
      “Do you like her?” I asked, and I pulled from my belt the red sash I had purchased. I was sure that
Chayin would not mind if I stretched his permis-sion into protection.
      “Lalen of Stra”—I laughed—“do you like her?”
      “I love her,” he said wonderingly, running his hands down the threx’s legs.
      “Wear this,” I suggested, handing him the sash. “It is good as a chald here, though why I should
worry about the son of Satemit is beyond me.”
      “You knew, then?” he asked, incredulous.
      “I have been much among Slayers. The exploits of the Third of Stra, your father, are not unfamil-iar
to me, nor did those hands ever play instru-ment other than steel and gol.”
      “I would not want him to know what ignominy I have brought upon his name,” said Lalen gaesh
Satemit.
      “I know,” I said. And I did know. “What will you do?” I asked him.
      “I have no idea.” Jaheil glowered at us, arms crossed over his mighty chest, from where he stood a
threx length away from the crellkeep.
      “You will not return to Stra?”
      “I cannot, chaldless.” He sorted through the weapons in the saddlepack.
      “There are two here, who wear the red sash, with whom you might wish to strike up an
acquain-tance. They are from the camp of the Ebvrasea. I have heard that one of the primary
requirements for entry into that camp is a chaldless waist, and the other is a skill level the like of which is
pos-sessed by only one in a hundred Slayers,” I said thoughtfully to him while he dressed and armed
himself from the things Jaheil and I had bought. When he stood up at last, dressed Parset except for his
bare legs, his stance was very straight and his eyes met mine unwavering.
      “Perhaps I shall search them out,” he allowed, and mounted the red threx, who danced beneath him.
      “Tasa,” he said to me, stroking her neck.
      “Tasa,” I replied, and turned away to Jaheil, lest he see the unaccountable tears that filled my eyes.
      Jaheil left the crellkeep, and his face was twisted as if he had eaten something sour as he looked at
me.
      “Let us get some food before it is too late.” He squinted into the yellow-tinged sky and pushed me
ungently toward the food vendors.
      “If you were my tiask, I would beat you until you were blue from head to foot for such behavior. And
before a crellkeep yet.” His voice was gruff. “Have you no shame? Or even if you do not, how can you
so demean Chayin’s attentions?” he de-manded.
      And instead of answering him, I pressed myself against him there in the middle of the aisle, and with
my masked face against his great chest, let the tears I could not stay flow until I could cry no
      I 86          Janet E. Morris more. And Jaheil stood there helpless and stroked my back in the way
of men before a woman’s despair, muttering senseless words of comfort about the safety of Lalen of
Stra, though it was Chayin who had brought the tears upon me.
      When I was relieved of tension, and the pain was no more than a dull ache within me, I stood back
from him, glad for the mask that hid my face from view, and we walked slowly through the aisles to the
food vendors, where Jaheil saw to it that I ate and drank. Though he queried me about my pain, I had no
answer for him, nor for Chayin and what lay between us. And though I closed my mind as best I could to
it, the helsar twisted and turned within Chayin’s apprei as Liuma worked her wiles upon him.
      When I could, I bade Jaheil go and rescue him from her, lest the veil fall so heavy upon him he could
not ride. He went, though I could see in his face he believed me not.
      While he was gone, Nineth and Pijaes came and sat with me. I told them what Chayin had said, and
cautioned them again as to their deportment. The sun neared its zenith, and Jaheil and Chayin did not
appear. Pijaes and Nineth still went mask-less. After some delicate inquiries into the success they had
had finding couch-mates, during which time I saw Lalen of Stra pass by with the two helmeted,
red-sashed northerners, it became clear to me that Nineth had long nursed a desire to spend a night in the
arms of the cahndor of Dordassa.
      I allowed as how I could introduce them, and since I was to spend the night in Jaheil’s apprei, that
Nineth might consider visiting me there. She was at first scandalized, then intrigued by what she called my
northern strategies. I wondered aloud that she did not simply approach him. She an-swered me that she
could not speak first to a cahndor. To this I replied that in my experience I had found the couching urge
oblivious of such niceties as rank and protocol. She smiled and low-ered her eyes demurely, an
expression almost ludi-crous upon one so powerfully framed as she. The gong for the final section rang
out, and I begged my leave and hurried to find Guanden.
      Under the yellow pavilion I found not only my mount, but Chayin and Jaheil as well, standing over
Hael, who knelt, holding Quiris’ left front hoof in his hands.
      “I will not chance it,” Hael said decisively, rising. I peered at the hoof and saw what disturbed the
dharener—a hairline crack running vertically a finger’s length up Quiris’ mid-hoof. The threx bit at his leg
fretfully, holding it off the ground. Hael jerked his head up, lest he injure himself further, and led him
away.
      Chayin looked at me, his eyes distant and brood-ing. “After the race, attend me,” he ordered. As the
threx master came around with a deep bowl and we each drew our numbers, I wondered what I had
done to further displease him. I drew fifth, Chayin third, Jaheil eighth. The threx master blared the lineup
at top voice, and the threxmen shuffled their charges into order. The golden Menetpher threx, Tycet, had
first position.
      I was glad to get upon Guanden’s back and away from the strained silence. I tried to call it the
pre-race tension, but I knew better. Thus we rode out onto the track without any well-wishing be-tween
us, and Guanden caught my mood and turned it into a blessing. He did not trumpet, neither did he leap
about, but only snorted softly, facing front with ears atwitch, waiting in the blazing midday heat.
      The crowd was deathly still, watching. The four-teenth threx, a Coseve gray, finally stood upon four
feet. I took two loops of Guanden’s rein. Tycet
      188          Janet E. Morris of Menetph, in first position, screamed his challenge. Guanden shivered
and made reply to him. The huija cracked out, the crowd roared like an enraged hulion, and Guanden’s
first leap brought him upon the rump of the fourth-position black, who had broken diagonally from the
start. The black went to his knees, and Guanden leaped over him. I saw the Itophe rider’s anguished face
pass under my stirruped foot. Before us the packed field was only a cloud of yellow dust. I gave
Guanden all the rein I had, and two smart slaps upon his rump. We caught the field just beyond the
tyla-break, spread even across the track. There was no way through them, no hole big enough for
Guanden between those straining haunches, and we trailed them close into the half and over the ditch.
      Guanden saw the opening before I did, and he was through it, so close that my knee brushed that of
a Coseve rider. Guanden snapped out at the gray and got his teeth in the other’s bristled crest. The gray
squealed and lunged, and his rider’s an-gry cries faded behind us. Into the chutes we thundered, only five
before us, and the pace the leaders set took its toll there. A Dordassar beast lay lifeless in the chutes just
before the sharp right turning, his, head twisted at an unlikely angle, his unconscious rider pinned beneath.
I barely saw this new obstruction before we were upon it, and Guanden twisted in midair like a slitsa, that
he might avoid the chute wall and the corpse and make the turn.
      But make it he did, and the last right twisting also, and we had four in front and a straight track before
us. Guanden’s froth and sweat spattered my face, his neck snaking even lower, while the wind whipped
streaming tears from my eyes. We closed steadily upon the leaders. The moment stretched out distorted,
each bound taking enths to complete, as if time itself thickened to obstruct us.
      A gray Coseve threx carne . up upon my right, slowly, so slowly, though the track beneath us was
blurred by our speed. Guanden shivered and snorted his anger. He leaped away from the straining beast
in a snap of effort that shattered the dream sense of the time and brought the crowd’s roaring loud to my
ears as we gained the ta-nera pole. At the tyla-break we caught Saer and passed him in four strides, and
there remained only three before us. Over the ditch we encountered Jaheil and his froth-ing red beast;
then they were gone in Guanden’s dusty wake. —
      I tried to rein him up for the chutes; the dead threx still lay there, and I adjudged the leaders too far
ahead for us to catch, but as I did so, Tycet’s victory squeal came back to us on the wind. Guanden
bellowed his rage and twisted through the gut-wrenching turns so hard I hugged his neck for my life’s
sake. On that last short straightaway he flattened himself to the ground, and his hooves barely touched it.
In my sight was only yellow dust and his straining strike-foot. Then I saw an-other hoof, upon a golden
leg. Guanden came up on Tycet of Menetph. And as he passed his rival, he took time to close his teeth
upon that golden neck. I slapped his head away, while a scant two lengths from the ta-nera pole the
Menetpher’s enraged beast broke stride and pawed the air.
      We were gone past the finish, and this time Guanden was easy to stop and turn, his intent being to kill
the golden threx who had twice af-fronted him. The Menetpher beast was not averse to such an
encounter, nor could his rider do more to dissuade his mount than I could mine. The field of racing threx
scattered to avoid us as Guanden and Tycet engaged each other. I battered help-lessly at Guanden’s
head, dodging Tycet’s snap-ping teeth and metal-shod hooves as the two kill-trained threx stalked each
other upon their
      1 90           Janet E. Morris hind feet. Men broke from the crowd and raced across the track
toward us. I saw Chayin, regard-less of Saer’s safety, leave him riderless and jump for Guanden’s head.
He hung there, his hands twisted in the headstall. Guanden shook him like a rag. Then another man, and
another, and finally the sheer weight of them brought the two threx squealing and snorting to the ground.
      Hands reached up to help me down. I could not move; my grip was, frozen upon the reins. I heard
my name, and it was Chayin’s voice. I let myself down into his arms and endured his examinations of my
limbs. I saw the threxman whose charge Guanden was, shoving and pushing his way through the crowd
around us, and the Menetpher rider, he being helped, limping, from the track by two of his brothers.
Their snarling demands for clearance rang in my ears. I twisted in Chayin’s grasp to go to Guanden, but
he would not allow it, and the ground wriggled in and out of focus as he led me off the track and into the
threx masters’ body-packed pavilion.
      We stood in the small cleared area with the threxmen and the Menetpher rider, who still leaned upon
another for support. His thigh bore teethmarks where Guanden had torn his high boot away. There also
was the green-trapped Coseve rider, who re-ceived from the threx master the fifth prize. Then Chayin
left me to receive the fourth. As Jaheil stepped up for his third, the Menetpher leaned toward me, a
strained grin upon his dark face. I asked after his wound, whereupon, free then to speak, he proposed
that we meet later. I agreed, and we went to receive the lesser sword that was second prize. As he did
so, a great howl rose up from those gathered around us, only rivaled by the deafening shouts that greeted
me when I in my turn went to accept the Golden Sword from the five Parset dhareners who had the care
of it.
      As I took it from Hael’s hands, I felt, finally, a great elation, and a warmth within me, and I took a
moment to give thanks that the time had so matched my hest and need.
      Then did I kiss the sword’s golden-chased hilt and do what was expected of me there; I went down
upon my knees before the cahndor of Nemar, who took in his own hands the sword. After put-ting his
lips to it, he handed it over to Nemar’s new dharener, in whose safekeeping it would lie until next Amarsa
first first, when again the five tribes would contest for its custodianship.
      From beyond the tent came a great pounding of dhrouma and kapura, and a chiming of gongs
together, announcing the beginning of two days’ feasting, of which the winner of the sword is tradi-tional
host. As the crowd dispersed to avail itself of Nemar’s generosity at the food and drink vendors, Jaheil
proclaimed his own apprei host to—all the thrcx riders. I saw among those who still lingered Nineth and
Pijaes, and also Liuma, making her way toward Chayin and Hael, who stood together apart from the
rest.
      This angered me. I went to Jaheil, where he stood talking with his own dharener. I informed him
within Chayin’s hearing that I was off to meet with the Menetpher who had been second. His lips curled
in disapproval, but I cared not, for I saw over his shoulder Chayin’s face, and it gave me great
satisfaction.
      “Before I go,” I said to Jaheil, “I would intro-duce you to a tiask who has long admired you from a
distance, but would rather suffer on an empty mat than importune.”
     “Where is this virtuous tiask?” Jaheil demanded, and I ponted out Nineth, who had bedecked
her-self all in red for the approaching festivities.
     Jaheil hitched up his sword belt and licked his lips and put his arm around my shoulders in a
companionable fashion.
     “Let us go and meet her, then. I am sure that she will find my attentions well worth the waiting.”
     “Do not tell her I told you,” I cautioned, “any more than she desired to meet you.” Jaheil agreed that
he would never do such a boorish thing, and I introduced them, and the great tiaskchan seemed almost
delicate next to. Jaheil’s formidable bulk. As I left them together and slipped out into the crowds, I
caught a glimpse of Chayin, between Hael and Liuma, with a trapped expression upon his face.
     When I was almost among the food vendors, I heard a disturbance behind me. A hand came down
hard and spun me around. Chayin stood there, breathing heavily, his fingers digging into my shoulder.
Upon his, other arm he had draped my cloak.
     “I told you to attend me after the race,” he snapped. His fingers dug harder. Hot trills of pain ran
down my arm. I regarded him levelly.
     “You were busy. I would have seen you when your duties were less pressing.”
     “So you fill your time with whoever is handy? Once a saiisa, always one.” The word is a demean-ing
term for coin girl. “Crying over a crell upon Jaheil’s shoulder is not even enough for you, is it?”
     “Let me go.” People stared at us, some openly. “Give me my cloak. ‘ He did, his anger falling in
upon itself when it found no mate in me.
     ‘Walk with me, if you have the time,” I sug-gested further, my mouth dry. “We will drink to-gether
with the Menetpher.” I busied my trembling hands upon my cloak.
     “I find myself with an early finish to my busi-ness,” he conceded. And we walked side by side,
without touching, through the milling crowd, searching the wounded Menetpher.
     “Hael says that though triumph has attended us, its equal loss is upon the way.”
     “It is his hest, and not the sort, of which he speaks. He tries to bring his will into the time. I felt it on
the track. He learned much from the helsar. He has Tar-Kesa behind him, and the loss he seeks is of
your, life and mine.”
     “You give him more than he has.”
     “Or you give him less, Chayin. I hope you are right. I wish we could leave now.” I looked up at the
midday sky. “I have fulfilled my part of the bargain. The rest is up to you.” And I spied the Menetpher
and put my hand upon the uritheria that curled around Chayin’s arm.
     “There!”
     He nodded, and displeasure lurked at the cor-ners of his mouth. “No more than an enth,” he
cautioned me.
     I bowed to his will in that, and started a rather awkward conversation with the Menetpher, dur-ing
which Chayin sat silent between us, arms folded.
     The mask upon my face was stiff and hot, and where it lay upon my cheeks the skin burried. I
clenched my fists, that I might not tear it from me and scrape away the abrasive grit beneath. But I did
not, because of Chayin.
     We exchanged neutral small talk in the dust-heavy heat of the midday among the throng. One skin of
kifra was sufficient to wash away the jiask’s discomfort before his new cahndor. Even Chayin’s
contentiousness was soothed, and he unbent his hauteur enough to recall certain anecdotes which he
shared with the jiask, who, if he had expected a more intimate encounter with me, hid his
disap-pointment.
     Well within the enth, Chayin deftly extricated us from the Menetpher’s company; thus I had no
chance to impart any subtle warnings or delicate forecasts to the jiask, nor could I use my presence to
protect him from the retribution I knew awaited.
     Nor, did I have the opportunity to further nur-ture what might grow between Jaheil and Nineth, for
Chayin confined me to his apprei. “For my own protection,” he, incarcerated me there, with a score of
guards set to my safekeeping, directly after we had taken leave of the Menetpher. There did I eat and
drink and while away the time combing my hair, with the apth-tusk comb he gave me.
     I might have taken the turning that would have healed the growing rift between us then, but my
emotions entrapped my tongue, and I could not. I merely took his gift from him and went to sit wordless
under the oil lamp.
     He came and squatted down before me. “What are you trying to do?”
     “Behave like a respectable tiask, as you have ordered me,” I said. He got to his feet. The hurt I had
caused him washed over me, reflected through the helsar and my own reading, along with his desire and
confusion. But I did not confide in him, and he used his anger against me, another brick in the wall built
between us.
     When he left me there and went to his evening’s duties, the veil fluttered around him. Even then I did
not, as I might have, pluck it from about him with the dozen words of truth I held within me.
     Once I went and unlaced the flaps to see if he had truly set a guard upon me to keep me there. Two
jiasks politely refused me exit, their counte-nances cold as the winds of Santha.
     Somewhat later I heard low angry voices, and I peered through the laces, to see Hael arguing with
my keepers. Whatever the subject of debate, he did not prevail, but stalked off into the first-dark gloom.
I went then and lay by the stanchion where Chayin had secreted the helsar. I curled my body around it
and rolled into the open arms of sleep, to be dragged roughly from their comfort near to sun’s rising by
Chayin’s half-drunken ravings. It seemed that what I had feared had occurred, and a num-ber of vengeful
Nemarsi had descended upon the Menetpher who had struck Guanden with the whip, and given unto him
some few strokes of a similar lash. Seeing this, others entered into the brawl, and still more joined in to
restrain them. Three lay dead and forty injured when the fighting was done.
     Chayin’s wrath knew no bounds. He shook as he told me in language I had never heard him use
what had occurred. He cursed Menetph and Hael and the badly injured Menetpher, and even those who
had so inconveniently-died were not safe from his foul imprecations. As he denounced each fac-tion in
turn, he kicked and threw whatever came hapless into his sight. Thrice I tried to calm him, only to land
upon my belly amid the cushions where he threw me. On the fourth attempt, I con-vinced him to sit, and
then at long last to lie upon his stomach, while I rubbed the knots of anger from his back until his
breathing eased, until the muscles no longer twisted under my hands, until he slept at last.

Stalking
    The ebvrasea, alone, posited upon the green square of overriding purpose on the board of
manifestation.
    His wings beat upon the wind from the abyss. His sharp eyes discern his prey, and they are not
clour1PA by doubt or self-division.
    The ebvrasea fills his belly without compunc-tion. He knows not morality, for he is its
embodiment.
    Once initiated, stalking will not be denied. Stalking is assiduous.
    Stalking culls the weak from the strong. In both hunters and hunted does it perform this
function of nature.
    Stalking tests its own strength.
    Stalking is both method and purpose. It real izes itself without judgment.
    Stalking would not be other than it is, and therein lies the key to its success.
    Adjuration: If the stalker, upon the trail of his prey, is in turn stalked, he may choose, to
continue, that by feigning ignorance he who stalks the stalker might reveal himself Survival is
both the goal and prerequisite of stalking. Stalking is always ready.
    Before stalking, who can stand but those who also stalk?
    —excerpted from Ors Yris-tera

VI. The Ebvrasea
    The screeling cries of pandivvers feasting kept time to the threx’ hooves as we passed between the
last appreis set upon Frullo jer. In the ruddy glow of sun’s rising I could see them wheel and dive above
us amid clouds of wirragaets, ultimately visible as a dark mist upon the air. The tiny in-sects were
everywhere; we had been long apprised of them. We breathed them. We blinked them out of our eyes
and flapped them from under our cloaks as the threx sped across the ever-hillier barrens toward Mount
Opir in the west.,
     Had I been willing to swallow a thousand of them, I would have asked Chayin what had brought
them out in such numbers. They died by the millions, crushed upon us as we rode. The cloud of them was
neras across, fading only with full daylight.
     One of the plain-leathered strangers had come to guide us. He said no word, but sat upon his brown
threx with his helmet-cap masking his face, awaiting us. We followed him upon a circuitous route perhaps
twenty neras. The ground began to roll, and then we were met by five of his brothers, all dressed alike in
deviceless northern-style breast armor. There was another there, and that one was Lalen gaesh Satemit.
     I had expected words from Chayin upon this account, but I soon realized that he did not mark the
man before him as that crell whom I had freed. I did not feel the need to enlighten him. We rode among
those taciturn men without a rest or a word spoken until well past midday, over stubbly
     1 98           Janet E. Morris tundra and progressively more difficult terrain. Larger and larger
harinder bushes clumped in breaks before us, their thorny brambles scraping tithe from our flesh as we
thrust our way through them. In the later day we turned into a dry stream bed and followed it up into the
foothills of Opir.
     The air became noticeably cooler and blue-shadowed with the bulk of the Yaicas around us. Small
needle trees grew here, and strands of stunted southern thala struggled with their chancy hold upon the
slopes. Just out of a copse of almost respectable trees we came upon a small clearing where the smell of
the air was suddenly so rank I found myself gagged and choking. Guanden leaped and snorted, and I
suppressed a moan as I put more strain upon my battered arms and shoulders to hold him.
     One of our guides urged his mount over to Chayin’s. All the men held their threx with diffi-culty.
Three were fitting arrows to strung bows that had been slung from their saddles.
     “With your permission, Cahndor,” said the one who seemed leader of the men, when he saw
Chayin’s drawn sword, “we would dispatch this apth from a safe distance.”
     Chayin considered this gravely, while under him Saer twitched and shivered. Even that
calm-tempered and sensible beast was discomfited at the smell that reached him. The men had fanned
out in a circle, their threx’ rears toward Chayin, and I and the man with ready bow beside him.
     “You may do what you will,” said Chayin. The killing of apths is tightly regulated in the Parset Lands;
all apths belong to the cahndors, who are accountable for their use to Tar-Kesa.
     I scanned the trees. I had never seen one.
     There came to our ears a great cracking of branches and a guttural squealing. The apth crashed into
the clearing, incredibly fast for all its enormous bulk. A red threx screamed in terror and walked
backward upon its hind feet before that hairy, huge-tusked head with its short square snout and tiny red
eyes. The rider of the retreating beast leaned over his mount’s shoulder. His bow thunked, and the arrow
penetrated a hand’s length into the apth’s side-set left eye. Then the other riders were upon it. It reared
up on its short stubby legs, its humped neck quivering with barbed, feathered bolts. Streaming brown
blood, the thing wheeled and charged leftward, that it might impale a tor-menter upon those curved tusks,
tossing it in the air and gouging again and again the soft under-belly of its victim with thrusts of its
powerful neck.
     An arrow lodged in the apth’s water sack, and the crested hump deflated before my eyes. The apth,
screaming, blinded by its own water, took a fatal arrow, just below those oversized jaws. It went to its
knees and laid its tiny head between them. Only its tail twitched. Then that too was still, and the thing was
dead.
     The stench, coming from offal stuck to the huge beast’s hairy coat in thick chunks and rotting gore
splattered there from the death struggles of previ-ous victims as the apth tossed them about in the air,
was truly unbearable. Not even for the trophy of those man-long tusks could any stand it long enough to
dig them out from their sockets. We left it there, waiting only for the men to retrieve those few arrows still
unbroken that bristled in the apth’s thick hide.
     My stomach rumbled angrily, turned numb as my backside from the unrelenting pace, and still we
climbed. Through the uncertain light of dusk and on into the dark with no stop, even to rest the laboring
threx, did we assay the treacherous slopes of Mount Opir. The air was thin and clear, and Wirur the
winged’ hulion rose twinkling and fully visible in the sky. The just-waning moon spewed a cold and
silvered light upon the trail. To my right a sheer archite face rose up, and upon my left was a sudden drop
into black-shadowed crevice. We went single file. I held my breath against the wind that tugged and
pulled at me and set my cloak abillow. Soon the crevice was replaced by another cliff, and we picked
our way along the bottom of the chasm formed between them in pitch dark. I looked straight up at the
tiny slice of visible sky, and saw only the north star Clous. Then that was gone, as we went under some
natural bridge. I heard Guanden’s feet splash, and realized that a stream coursed its way through the
cavern. An ebvrasea screeched, and another answered. Our arrival had been announced.
     We stood upon a ledge that sloped gently down into a valley limned clear in the moonlight. At its
center, the stars were reflected back into the sky from the calm mirror of a mountain lake. Perhaps
twenty neras around, the valley was bounded by rock upon all four sides. Mount Opir towered over the
lake in her belly, glittering like a woman at feast of conception with the ice that mantled her regal head
and shoulders.
     As the threx assayed the twisting downward trail, I made out low, clustered shelters upon the valley
floor. We did not go toward these, but took a sharp turn left, along one sheer cliff wall.
     Only when we were upon them’and dismounting did I notice the squared-off openings that entered
into the cliff walls themselves. Old, even ancient, must be these cliff dwellings; not since before the
rebuilding have we of Silistra made use of the terrible forces needed to hew those huge rectangu-lar
edifices from solid rock. Such square and ugly architecture as this squat giantism had nothing of Parset or
even gristasha culture about it.
     My speculation was cut short by the appearance—
     of two .men with torches, who conversed in low tones with the leader of those who had brought us.
Though I had seen no sentries, I had no doubt that the Ebvrasea’s nest was near to impregnable to those
uninvited. Everywhere my eyes found unseal-able cliff face. The men separated, Lalen of Stra going off
with two others. He made a casual ges-ture of farewell. One with a torch, he who had asked Chayin for
permission to kill the apth, mo-tioned us to follow.
     We did this, I looking over my shoulder long enough to mark the direction in which they took
Guanden and Saer.
     Down a torchlit archite passage, glassy-smooth and geometric, our guide led us. The torches were
set upon stands on the floor. I was later to learn that this was done because the ancient passage rock had
been treated with some substance which made it impervious to hand tools. At intervals down the
passage’s length I saw such diverse items as fresh threx. dung and long-dark power lamps, some broken,
with wires hanging down from them like fossil slitsas. Also I marked upon each passage numbers and
legends in pre-hide Silistran, their messages unfaded through countless years. Like ghosts they spoke to
me: “Med. 1,”
     “Surg. 2,”
     “Power Aux.,” Master Air.” I noticed at intervals upon the walls visual displays whose colored
graphs still shone brightly, ever shifting. A practiced eye could, from those displays, gauge how many
were in the passages, where they were located, even when and where they had entered. This answered
one of my questions—why there were no signs of habitation other than human and threx. The doors were
air-scanner-controlled, programmed from some central source to admit only certain life forms and
attendant matter through polarized molecular barriers that must still exist in every doorway. I sniffed the
air and belatedly realized it to be the clear, sterile air, temperature-regulated, of mechani-cal processing. I
was struck with wonder that such a place yet existed, functional, above the ground; and more, that the
Day-Keepers had not claimed it.
     We turned down a corridor that was not archite green, but a sterile white. It said “Admin. 1-5,”
‘Comm. Inter., Intra.” As we passed by the many cubicles upon either hand, it became obvious that the
Ebvrasea was using the small rooms in this area as stables. Makeshift rope barriers ran down its length,
and curious threx stuck their heads over the ropes and peered at us as, we hurried past.
     Another turning found us again in a natural archite passage, in the center of which was a threx with
three men attending her. She was hobbled, and one of the men had his arm up the beast’s rectum to the
shoulder. He pulled it out and peeled off the shoulder-high glove of transclucent denter intestine as we
approached them. I put Chayin’s bulk between us, suddenly cold and trembling. Would the time match
my hest?
     “She has doubtless settled,” the Ebvrasea as-sured the others. The sound of his voice dazed me
helpless. If I could have spoken, I would have called his name. If I could have moved, I would have run
to him. I stood frozen, behind Chayin, my tiask’s mask upon me.
     “Take her back,” he ordered, in northern Silistran, running his hand down the threx’ rump as he
turned to face us. We might have stood in the halls of Arlet, so unchanged was he in a worn tunic of
leather, with just a knife slung upon a parr belt at his hips, but that no chald lay there beside it. His tanned
.face broke into a grin when he saw the cahndor.
     “Chayin!” Sereth clasped him in his arms, and as they embraced, his gaze fell upon me. His face,
more tired and lined than I recalled it, drained white, all but the scar that traced its length, which turned
livid. Icy cold chased the pleasure from his dark eyes. Not even a moment had it taken him to know me,
though I was bedraggled, masked, and dirty, wrapped in Estrazi’s cloak.
     He released Chayin, who moved uncertainly from between us.
     “I—” Chayin started, but Sereth’s sharp gesture cut him off.
     “I appreciate that which you have done in my behalf. I would speak with her alone. Go and get
settled in my quarters. We will join you.” His voice was a whisper from the abyss. He jabbed a finger at
our guide. “Install the cahndor, and see to his wants.” The man hurried to obey. Sereth leaned against the
archite wall, his arms folded over his chest, his eyes shadowed by the mass of brown hair that fell across
them. I remembered the silky feel of it from another time, when he lay all covered over with dust,
unconscious beneath the Falls of Santha. I did not move. I did not speak, though my mind told me to go
upon my knees to him and beg forgiveness.
     After a time he dropped his hands to his sides, and the chaotic rolling of events ceased to deluge me
through his memory.
     “Come here.”
     Woodenly I walked the few steps toward him and stood so close I could see his nostrils flare as he
breathed. He raised his hands to my head and removed the mask from my face. His fingers touched my
cheek, my eyes, and when they came upon my lips, I kissed them. Our eyes met and held.
     “Have you no greeting for me after so long?” he asked softly. His arms went around me, pulling me
tight to his chest. He buried his face in my hair. I wished that it was clean and, sweet-smelling for him.
     Then was my hest full upon me. The pattern of light and dark on his, worn circlet armor, the smell of
him, the feel of those arms about me, his warm moist breath against my neck—all were as I had waited
so long for them to be. And owkahen—the time corning to be; I knew it not. This did not trouble me. I
partook of his strength and was not afraid. Everything I had done to stand thus with him became as
nothing. My paralysis left me.
     I breathed his name, and the taste of it did me good. His hands ran up and down my back, tan-gled
in my hair, confirmed the need in him for me. I closed down my sensing as best I could. He relived his
pain and could not share mine. Waiting for him to come again into the land of words, I pressed against his
hardness, content.
     “All this time,” he murmured, his lips against my ear. “I have lived Celendra’s lie, though some-thing
in me knew it false. I thought, too often, that I had indeed gone mad. Though there has been much
madness, I hold you—proof that such was not of my making.” He brought his face down to mine, so
close that his breathing was a gentle breeze upon my cheek. “Where did you go that day? Where have
you been all this time? And what brings you here before me at the side of my only ally, with his sign of
rank upon your breast, garbed tiask, even to the chald of Nemar upon you?”
     “I had to come to you. Since my return to Silistra I have been about it. I have my own questions. If
you will have me, I will stay here with you. We can take our leisure at the answers.” So simply did I
throw my will against my father’s. Though by Estrazi’s word Sereth was not for me, I dis-claimed his
rights upon me.
     “I have nothing to offer you. Even my life is uncertain.”
     I touched him. “You, have all that I need. Chayin said you would kill me. I came here, knowing that,
preferring death at your hands to life with another,” I pleaded.
     Amusement tugged at the corners of his mouth, danced in its old place deep in his eyes. “I might still
kill you. Women have been couched to death before.” And then it left him, and his voice turned toneless.
“I thought I would, should I ever have the chance.” His hand traced the curve of my neck, finding there
the thick gold links of the uritheria medallion and drawing them tight about my throat.
     “What of Chayin? Where does he stand with you? ‘I need his good will.”
     “He brought me to you and left me in your hands, thinking you would harm me. He loves you, not
me.”
     “I know that,” said Sereth darkly, releasing me. “Let us join him.” He pushed me gently down the
corridor.
     I was content to walk beside him.
     “It is good to look upon you.”
     “Chayin said you keep no women about you,” I replied, as we entered a passage; free of torches,
where the ancient ceiling lights still functioned.
     He shrugged. “I have been known to belt on an appropriate chald and venture into Well Oppiri when
my need is strong enough. For a while I took an occasional captive, but the quality of captives is not as
high as when we first hunted them. Near the lake there are coin girls among the camp followers, for what
they are worth. I developed higher tastes in Arlet than an outlaw’s life can sustain.” He tossed his head,
shaking the hair from his eyes. He wore it longer now, almost upon his shoulders. His hand reached
under my cloak, and his questing fingers found the fading ridges of scars there.
     “Where did you get these?” he asked.
     too, have led a different life from that to which I was born. I am no longer the soft and pampered
Well-Keepress you knew. I have killed two men, and a tiask thrice my size, with my own hands. This
chald is no gift. I am tiaskchan of Nemar.”
     “I will keep in mind your fierceness,” he prom-ised. “But you cannot be tiaskchan and outlaw both.”
     “I will give it all up,” I said airily.
     “Not quite yet,” he replied, turning into a corri-dor of some dark brown material that had actual
doors, spaced along its length. Before one of them he stopped, and the door slid open of its own accord.
Within, Chayin started to his feet, crouch-ing there, frozen.
     “Did you .. ? What did ... ? No. I see you did not,” said the cahndor of Nemar in faultless Silistran.
     “Kill her?” Sereth laughed. “Not yet. Would I do such a thing without inviting you?” And he strode
across the chamber and rummaged in a wooden chest in one corner.
     I stared around me, at this strange and ghost-ridden chamber whose walls were ever changing color.
The art of a long-dead age reached out to calm me. No windows broke the walls’ expanse. The floor
was soft as tas-suede, resilient, tiered in what semed random sequence, except that the raised areas were
different tones of that same neutral. Anachronistic against those walls stood Arletian wooden racks
bristling with sword and shield and spear, helmet and armor and five-lashed stones, and even a number
of large pelts. Sereth closed the wooden chest and turned to me.
     Upon one loam-colored tier in the middle of the room had been dumped my saddle and Chayin’s. I
found myself standing over them with no memory of crossing the distance from the door. The helsar
reached out to me, demanding, rolling softly. My face, shoulders, and arms slicked and flushed, as if I
stood over some raging conflagration. In a way, I did. It took all my attention to back away from that
blaze.
     “What?” I said when I could, from where I found myself sitting upon the floor, Sereth standing over
me. Behind him the light from the walls shifted softly. The ceiling was dark with a likeness of night clouds
upon it. The room knew it was evening. I had no doubt that in the day one might look up and see the
semblance of greening sky. Through the helsar I sensed its gladness to have within it once more eyes to
rest upon its work. I pushed the room-consciousness away. with a shiver. Did the ceiling count the days
and nights, all those centu-ries when none had dwelt beneath it?
     “Choose one!” Sereth repeated. “They are as ex-act as the best weaponsmith in Yardum-Or could
make them. I have held them for this moment a long while.”
     “And you still say you did not know I lived?” I wondered, taking the two parr-wrapped bundles from
him.
     “I did not know it,” he maintained.
     “The truth of that being that you know not what ‘knowing’ feels like.” Chayin made my point for me
in a wry voice as he came and knelt beside us.
     I unwrapped the bundles, and laid upon the sand-toned floor two stra-hilted gol-knives. They were
without ornamentation but for a small red gol-drop embedded in the butt of each hilt. I hefted them. They
snuggled against one’s palm, the same. They balanced in the fingers, the same. Each was perfect,
eloquently simple. I recollected how he had come by those two priceless gol-drops, in the gollands
above Arlet. My eyes misted unaccount-ably. I took one and handed back the other.
     “Tomorrow we will go together to my fitter and have sheaths made,” Sereth said. It is considered a
bad omen to give a virgin weapon in sheath.
     “First, that which is first, Sereth,” I declined. “I must take the helsar’s teaching. Even tomorrow might
be too late, but I would spend this night with you both. It is very strong now, and I am weak. It might
come to pass that I cannot shatter it.” I paused, not knowing what else to say.
     “What is a helsar?” Sereth asked, his eyes nar-rowed into slits.
     “If you cannot shatter it”—Chayin touched my arm—“might you not return the way you came?”
     “If I cannot, and I lie there still breathing, upon the fourth day you might do whatever comes to you to
arouse me.” I took Chayin’s dark hand in mine, and turned my head to meet Sereth’s anx-ious eyes.
     “In these matters, take Chayin’s lead. As to what the helsar is, I am not sure. The fathers know, but
they are not saying. You remember the cowled one?”
     “How could I forget?”
     “The name of that being is Raet, and his world, upon which I found my father, is called Mi’ysten. It is
a beautiful and strange place, where natural laws and time itself combine differently. The Mi’ysten have
great skills, but not so great as the fathers, who created all we know as time and space. I have heard it
said by Mi’ystens that the helsar is drawn into being by the disturbance one causes when first learning to
move between the planes, and the attendant rubbing together of the edges of different continuums. That
does not explain where the pieces go when they shatter, or why. But it would explain how I came by it. It
followed me back from there, one time when I went to see Estrazi—upon the wings of uris. I cannot do
other than work my way through it, for in this place its very presence is a danger. “
     “What do you suggest we do?” Sereth said, uneasy. “I am not anxious to cross paths with this Raet
again. Although some would say I have little to lose, I would retain what there is.” He leaned back
against the loam-colored dais, crossing his arms over his chest, slid down on his spine.
     “Only what I have asked you: watch over me while I deal with it. It is my problem.”
     “Who is Raet?” asked Chayin.
     I sighed, and shook my head. “It is a long tale. You and Sereth each hold a part of the puzzle.
Compare them. I think you will find that Raet and Tar-Kesa are one.”
     Sereth put his hands over his ears.
     “Enough! I am a simple man. I want no contest with gods!” He looked at me, his eyes imploring me
to tell him I did not bring Raet’s influence again upon him. I could not. There was a long silence, broken
only by Chayin digging at the flooring with his knife. It remained unmarred by his attack.
     “If you are afraid,” I offered, in a whisper, “I will leave here, this moment.”
     “Were I not afraid, I would be a greater fool than I am,” he said. “Now that I have you back, I am
not letting you out of my sight.” And he got to his feet. “I am hungry. Here on Opir, one must go to the
kettle. Let us do so.” He held out his hand to me.
     As we walked down the hall, he questioned Chayin about what had occurred at Frullo jer, and the
race results came out. Sereth was suitably impressed by my victory, and I promised to show. him
Guanden after we ate. Also did we relate to the Ebvrasea what had passed between Nemar and
Menetph and M’ksakka. When he heard what Chayin had said to the M’ksakkans, Sereth’s laugh-ter
rang through the corridors. When he related our encounter with the Menetphers upon our stolen threx, I,
too, felt the humor of the situation. When finally we turned into the kettle chamber, Chayin was just
describing to Sereth how he had killed Aknet and become cahndor of Menetph, in the process bilking
Celendra out of her considerable heritage. Sereth collapsed onto a bench, holding his middle. Tears of
laughter ran down his cheek. My own sides hurt, and I was sure my face would crack from the grin upon
it.
      “Oh, I would have been there to see her face,” Sereth chortled.
      “I would wager if you had seen it, you would also have seen M’ksakkan faces,” I projected.
      “You seem to have done most of that worth doing without me,” Sereth objected, wiping his eyes.
      “There is still Astria and Celendra,” Chayin re-minded him. “And, in truth, M’ksakka.”
      “And. Estri to help us. We can reinstall her, perhaps. Would you like us to avenge you upon the killer
of your uncle and usurper of your Well couch?” Sereth offered gallantly. I was glad the room was empty.
As I walked over to the huge kettle bubbling on the sunken mid-room hearth, I wondered for what
purpose the shallow pit had been intended.
      “I think we would be acting in accord with the law within, to do such a thing.”
      I filled three bowls with a huge iron ladle and took them to a plank table. The walls here were dark
green, and the floor paler archite. When we went to sit down, the light above us brightened perceptibly. I
shivered. “But I would not be rein-stalled in Astria, to await whomever Estrazi sees fit to send me. I will
go, but not for Astria. That which has been lost, cannot, in this world, be regained.” Only after did I
realize I had quoted Carth, who was in service to the dharen. Chayin knew; his ,eyes sought mine.
      I was surprised at what I saw there, though I
      should not have been. The time had come to up-hold him, and reality was less painful than his
preconceptions of it. He seemed released, calmly attendant upon the moment at hand. And his calm
sprang from his foreknowledge, a taste of which set me back, cowering.
      Sereth was relating the story of a narrow escape he had had when picking up the knives he
con-tracted in Yardum-Or.
      “If you keep roaming the cities in dead men’s chalds, Sereth, one of these times you will not return,”
said Chayin.
      “If such were not my practice, you would not be here to chide me about it,” Sereth replied,
some-thing in his manner reminding me of his bearing before his men in Arlet’s hostel. I felt lonely,
uncom-fortable. Love between men is something that excludes a woman as nothing else can. I tried to
determine what had gone into the making of the brown glop in the bowl. I could not, but I would have
laid money that such food had not been cooked by a woman. I regarded them from under my hair. The
two of them looked like death dealers before whom Ract might rightly falter. A part of me took a great
joy in that sight. It wanted no assignations, yet it did not disdain such tools. Not Estrazi’s will, or Raet’s,
or Sereth’s will would I do, henceforth, but my own. I tossed my head and made a satis-fied sound. I sat
a little straighter, shoulders back, breasts out.
      “What?” asked Sereth, handing me a bladder he brought to table.
      I saw clear and real, obscuring Sereth’s face close to mine, that seven-cornered room. Not truly
seven-cornered, I noticed without surprise, but with seven corners. Portions of seven different rooms,
coming together to share a space in the middle. Each of the gold-glowing men stood in his own alcove;
behind each was a window, and the coun—
      tryside framed there in each window was too di-verse to be any one place upon Silistra. This was
Silistra: I saw a snowy peak, a glistening lake in warm sun, rolling field, deep forest. The seven men
looked across the jumping flicker of the cen-tral space at each other. Under the flicker a cer-tain symbol
danced, actually seven symbols in seven rooms occupying the same space-time congruently. I went to
look closer, thinking they could not see me. One leaned forward, his eyes unsurprised. Ice. Miles deep
within, a glowing redness took note of my presence.
     Then I saw Sereth. I leaned against him, not hearing, a time before I could think. Chayin’s breath was
upon my cheek, his fingers at my wrists.
     “Did you see?” I asked him. His face swam be-fore me.
     “No, but I knew what it was. I think you cannot wait any longer. If you do not go to it, it will surely
come to you.”
     “You are right,” I admitted, clearing the hair from my face. I stood up. “Though I would not do it
now, I will be just as reluctant tomorrow.” Sereth, his face tight, picked up our bowls and deposited
them in a barrel of water, wordless.
     “Do you have your uris pouch, Chayin?” I asked him as we retraced our steps to Sereth’s chamber.
     “Do you think it wise to use it now?” he objected, but handed it to me. I unstopped it and touched
my tongue briefly to the liquid within.
     “There is no wisdom,” I answered him, “only more or less successful overlays upon what is real.” I
handed Sereth the uris pouch. He shook his head in refusal.
     “Then what do you seek in the helsar, if not wisdom?” Chayin demanded as the door to Sereth’s
chamber slid aside to admit us.
     “Power, that I might defend myself against Raet. Weapons, if any be there. Tricks of a new trade
whose name I do not know, and whose purpose I can but dimly sense.” I went and took one large brist
pelt from Sereth’s rack and spread it upon the floor. Then I stripped off my boot and breech and band
and piled them neatly in a corner. Sereth leaned against the dais upon which the helsar rested in my
saddlepack, oblivious of it. Chayin paced back and forth the length of the chamber.
     I took the Shaper’s cloak and spread it over the brist pelt, that I might slide under it. Though the
room was warm, it was not warm enough to chase the chills from my flesh. Where I went, flesh could not
yet follow me, but must rest in icy stasis; I would need both coverings. I fussed with my make-shift
couch, smoothing wrinkles and evening cor-ners, until I could put the moment off no longer. I went and
kissed Sereth where he rested against the dais. His body was stiff against me.
     “Take care,” he said. I smiled a smile that had no reassurance in it, and fumbled in my saddlepack
with clumsy fingers for the helsar. I felt the sueded leather that bound it. It reached toward me, and I
barely restrained it. By the thong I carried it, dangling, through the mist that sprang up around me to the
resting place I had made. When my feet felt the cloak and pelt, I got down upon my knees and plucked
at the knotted thong. I could barely see, so heavy was the fogging around me, but when the thong fell
loose, I saw the helsar. It blazed blue-white, blinding, thrice its former size. The filaments spun whirling
within it, pulsing. The room around me was a great blur, a prism, a prison. I felt my way between pelt and
cloak, the helsar molten between my palms. My feet were shards of ice, my legs frozen stiff even as I
tried to draw them against my chest for warmth. I saw Chayin’s face for a moment, mouth moving, and
from that mouth came curling flames of sound, undecipherable. Beside my head the helsar pulsed, and the
rhythm drew my eyes to the filaments, and the filaments drew my spirit out from my body. I stood
between them, and I was no longer cold. They were fourteen, and they spun around me. I let them go
unchecked for a time. The place was all alight, and that light sang to me, a soft song. The spinning
filaments hummed the har-monic. All was mist enshrouded, and I knew that mist for my sustenance, and
partook of it. The molecules I breathed each had a name, nature, and awareness, and the introductions
between us were lengthy. Golden became my feet, for I had feet. Straited armies of mist-chain became
my arms, for I would need arms. Between my breasts a great sun flared white-hot, and filled the empty
expanses of my new form with light. The strands of my hair flared out from my head and did my will upon
the filaments that whirled all around me like swords flashing.
     And we did battle there, standing upon nothing, in the light. A great wrenching pain from left of my
head stopped the first filament, the second, the third. The fourth tore a thousand strands of my strength
from me by the roots. It drove toward my heart. I caught it with my golden hands, and it charred them to
flakes of ash. But I stopped it, and with my stumps I fumbled it to its place. Pain taught me its rule in the
universe. I screamed and screamed, and the sounds of my mouth twisted in flames around a filament, and
hardened there, im-prisoning it to serve my will. I rubbed my stumps against my eyes, and I laughed,
Nand my laughter froze the next into silence. I had another. Gloating, I turned to the next. Shocked, it
retreated before my will, and I had half the arc I sought. I breathed a sigh of relief that danced before me,
jester in my court.
     It cavorted and rolled, diverting me before I realized it a trick, and a filament skewered me through
one ear and out the other. Upon my knees—did I have them?—I began to slide. I needed no ears to
hear the derisive victory chant of the filaments. I threw all my being again into the strands that stretched
light-years from my head, and hung by their grip upon the conquered fila-ments above a pit that held such
apt and personal terrors as could only have come from my own mind. Seeing this—that it was my own
fear that threatened me with extinction—I assayed the jour-ney upward. I pulled myself by stumps and
teeth along the strands of my own hair: welcome pain, keeping me conscious. I climbed through walls of
slitsas, writhing, through infirmity of age, upon wizened wrinkled limbs, through voidness, where my lungs
imploded and I drowned without them. I discarded the form when the cold between the worlds froze my
eyeballs between blinks and they fell in icy dust upon my fleshless cheeks.
     Only then did I begin to see. Freed of flesh-need, I hung there, and the rhythm key to the remaining
filaments, which was always within me, came to my sensing clear and strong. With it, I fashioned a
framework, and another form, so vast it encom-passed all that was, is, and ever will be between two
atoms of its being. I raised what was not a hand, and from it created a platform. Upon that platform ,I
stood upon no legs, and with the light-ning from my non-eyes did I cause the last seven filaments to do
my will. The arc around me shivered, settled, became a path.
     A new form was needed, and I made one. My dozcn legs carried me tireless upon the glassy
sur-face of the path, claws clicking my three-chambered heart’s complement. At my left and right, time
dis-played itself, scene upon scene, lifetimes flicking by me. Occasionally I turned my stalked eyes
back-ward to follow some drama of temporal interest. But not once did I slow my pace. I would not fall
into that trap. My loins burned with need, exacer-bated by the rubbing of my depending sex organs
against my hid-most legs as I ran. Off in the dis-tance I saw another, whose eye stalks were a sen-sual
fuchsia, and whose invitation trumpeted clear to me across the vermilion plain. I snorted my answer. With
it, out of my mouth came the smoke and flame of my passion. But I would not stop. I came to the end of
the path and did not falter, but launched myself across the yawning gulf upon the wings of need.
     Down into the chasm I glided, regulating my descent easily. It was a simple matter to allow the
ground to draw me. Gravity held no sway here, where conception ruled.
     Awaiting me there were seven beings, whose shapes were diverse and merely an expression of
choice. I altered to an upright form, with vocal cords for speaking, as is polite in that land.
     “You are late coming,” remarked the first, whose skin suit was a universe forming.
     “How long have you been awaiting me?” I asked.
     “How long ago was this moment woven into the everpresent? Since the conception of creation, when
self-differentiation of One created Interchange and together they begat Time. Not long,” said the second.
     “What dost thou seek here?” said the third, who bore the semblance of an iridescent-winged slitsa,
and crossed his six arms across his breast.
     “Do you not, know?” I asked, incredulous.
     “He is supposed to ask,” said the fourth impa-tiently, twittering his pale tendrils together. I cleared
my throat, fascinated by the image thrown back to me from the reflective doorway that ap-peared behind
them.
     “I seek my heritage, that which has been saved for me.”
     The, sixth gave up a sigh of satisfaction from a mouth which could have swallowed Silistra for a tidbit.
“You are she. Would you settle for half?”
     “Would you? I am my father’s daughter.”
     “His skills in you are long atrophied, buried by assumptions. Audacity must be companioned by
responsibility, would the Shaper’s daughter shape, intoned the seventh, and he waved his hand, which
was followed upon its arc by the sights of a different place.
     I spent so long there that the entropy inherent in the sequentiality I instituted to absorb what I was
learning wore three bodies from under me. One was destroyed while still exploring the worlds of simple
sorting; that which exists in time and space regulated by reigning natural laws.
     The second crumbled from under me while still about the skills of the hest; of bending and twist-ing
natural laws to serve the will. While in that form I learned to adjoin and weave times together, and to
bring into being certain chains of events without regard to inertial backlash. I should have stopped there.
     But I built a third form, by far my finest, and traveled by the side of my seven teachers into the
domain of creation; I learned to suspend natural law and put my own will in its place. There did I find the
weapons with which I might oppose Raet. There also did I learn reverence and constraint, and the laws
by which such actions are governed. But it was hard and heavy upon me, and when the third form
crumbled from beneath me prematurely, I was not willing to make another. Burdens of power, shackles
of freedom, did I carry out of that last place. I had reached my limits before reaching the end. It was
enough, I thought.
     Since I could do no more, my teachers agreed with me. That small sphere I managed, upon the
outermost edges of inhabited space, spun lonely. There was no life upon it. I had shrunk back from that
last task, refusing the responsibility I must bear to life of my creation. But I promised my world I would
return to it.
     I took leave of my teachers then, in a form close to my Silistran one, and went upon a vainglorious
and precipitous journey. I searched out my father where he was resting.
     I found it necessary upon my arrival there to expand my lungs and the chest cavity that sur-rounded
them, and convert their nature. And I walked into the sea that lapped redly at a pinkish shore. And the
nature of that sea did not eat the flesh from my bones; for I had changed it also.
     I found my father nibbling choice vegetation from the murkish sea bottom, his great red head
half-submerged in muck. He was not pleased to see me.
     “Since, you have learned enough to come here”—his wave-words sounded against my ears—“why
have you not learned enough to know better than to do so? I come here for solitude.”
     “TI ... q. e is no respite from one’s own creations,” I reminded him, puffed with my new knowledge.
     “Speak then,” Estrazi said sitting his consider-able bulk down like some huge boulder dark upon the
sea floor. Bubbles came from the corners of his mouth. I caught one as it tried to rise to the surface, and
turned it into a mirror, upon which I pro-jected that which concerned me.
     He watched it solemnly, his lidless eyes unblink-ing. When it was done, he bent his head once again
into the muck. When he raised it, his jaws dripped with brown plump weeds. He chewed a time,
ruminating.
     “What you showed me,” he said at last, “differs quite markedly from what I had intended.”
     “Then stay Raet’s band from my world.”
     “Your world, is it?”
     “I was born to it, my flesh is of its soil. I must protect that which I love.”
     “Do that which I desire. In time you will come to see things differently.”
     “No. There is no validity in self-fulfilling proph-ecy. I must do that which is right in my sight. You will
use me against him no longer.”
     His mouth stopped its chewing. “How do you know that this very rebellion of yours is not my will?
Have you joined with those others of like mind near you?”
     “Not yet, but I will do so.”
     “If you survive,, send me a message, and we will meet again. Now, leave me!”
     And his command was such that I found myself flung upward into the baby’s cheek of that world’s
sky, past it, into the dark between the worlds.
     Only away had Estrazi flung me. I ended there, in the darkness where potential unrealized is banked.
That which does not happen goes to this place, and is reabsorbed into the ever-forming now. There,,
alone, growing faint, did I learn the conse-quences of power, and the price paid by those who seek it.
There is no fixed future, the darkness whispered. There is no omniscience; nothing is sure, it said as it
devoured me.
     And I may never know if Estrazi realized his mis-take and extracted me, or I escaped by my own
power. I was almost not, when an answer crept to me and warmed me in the cold. That thing in me that
would not sleep snuggled warm against it. Shatter the helsar, it suggested to me, and you have confirmed
yourself in the real world. Will it here, and yourself there. That which is cannot be in two places at once.
Trade with the dark. Try.
     I tried. I took what self I had and set it spinning, that I might reach all directions. And the spin gave
me coherence. No one had ever spun here before. No one had ever refused oblivion, even retained self
long enough to conceive such an act. I was. I spun my laughter in nothing’s face. And the helsar heard
me. I drew it, desperate. It flared the whole of ever-dark nothing light at its entrance. I was blind in the
afterglow, caught up in someone’s arms like some small child.
     I knew he rocked me slowly back and forth. I breathed flesh upon the air, warm moist lifesmell. I
heard my heart. My legs were prickled with fire. My feet did not feel. I found my eyelids and caused
them to open. It was Sereth’s room I saw, but Chayin who held me. The room was night-lit. Sereth slept,
his head upon his arm, his rest uneasy, nearby. Chayin rocked me softly, his chin resting upon the crown
of my head. The helsar was not in my sight. My mouth was very dry.
     “I am thirsty,” I said to him, with enough effort for a shout. I produced only a croak, but it was
sufficient. He looked down at me, and I smiled at him. Perhaps he thought he dreamed. He touched my
face with his hands; then he called my name and crushed me against him. Sereth, as light a sleeper as a
hulion, was crouched there beside us. I tried to reach out a hand to him. It fell short, but he caught it in
his.
     “I thirst,” I tried again. My legs would not re-spond to me. They seemed dead. My hand in Sereth’s
trembled violently.
     “Get it,” Sereth ordered, and Chayin, who de-ferred to no man, laid me down upon the Shaper’s
cloak and went to do Sereth’s will.
     I tried to maneuver my thick-furred tongue. It remained, despite my best efforts, recalcitrant and
unwieldy. Sereth knelt over me. He put a finger to my lips.
     “Be silent,” he said. His strong, sure hands kneaded my legs, and I found voice enough to moan as
his ministrations brought my muscles awake.
     “I know,” he said, not ceasing his work. His hands had reached my thighs. “I was once, after a
severe miscalculation, bound in one position five days. Truly, this is the least painful way.” And when I
could, I flinched from his touch.
     “Good girl. Now, sit up.” And I did that, too, that I might be as brave as he thought me. I bit my lips
until I tasted my own blood, but I got my legs under me.
     Sereth grunted and sat back on his haunches. A smile played on his lips, his eyes prowled me,
returned to meet mine.
     “There will be no more of this,” he decreed. “I have thought long about what to do with you. You
came here, seeking my protection, my help, per-haps another thing from me.” And he was not now
smiling. “I demand and receive unquestioning obe-thence from those who follow me. If you join them, I
must have the same from you. You do not want Astria, you say. What do you want?”
     “To serve you. My life is your will. I want noth-ing more,” I managed. I wished he had waited until I
had my wits about me. I closed down my sensing, pushing away that which I would not see. If it was so
short a time I would .have him, then that time was all the more precious.
     “If you give yourself to me, it must be fully. Your body and mind, and the skills thereof, must be mine
to do with as I see fit. I cannot accept less. I do not explain to my finger why I want to scratch an itch; it
is mine. I do not allow that which is mine to risk itself upon its own initiative. Under these conditions, and
these alone, will I accept you. Otherwise, go back with Chayin, for he would have you upon any terms.”
So did Sereth crill Tyris speak to me, in his way, of love, in his cold-est voice.
     “I expected no different, nor could I settle for less. I am yours upon your terms, upon any terms,
without question.-It has been so, in my heart, a long time.” It was the best I could do. I supported myself
with my hands, sitting there. I wished he would touch me, hold me. He did not. He looked at me a time,
pensive. Then he nodded.
     “Take that off!” He meant the uritheria medal-lion. With some difficulty, for it was tangled in my hair,
I did, so. I looked at it in my lap, and my copper fingers seemed to glow and flicker as I handed it to him.
     “You will renounce the chald you wear, and give back to Chayin all that he has given you.” I
nod-ded mutely. “And you will speak to no one, espe-cially Chayin, of whatever you might have gained
from the helsar.” Almost, I objected. But I saw the testing in his narrowed eyes and kept silent. Let him
make his arbitrary rules.
     “Let us see if you can walk,” he said, and lifted me to my feet, supporting me as I assayed first one
step and then another. The door slid aside, and Chayin entered, a bladder slung over his shoulder. He,
like Sereth, wore only brief tas breech. He hesitated in the doorway a moment, then stepped through.
The panel slid shut behind him. He walked those few steps to where we stood waiting, his rana-colored
skin giving some eerie cue to the room walls, which chose to mimic him, rhythm and tone.
     “Here,” he said, and handed the bladder to Sereth. His eyes on me were like some wounded
animal’s. Sereth held out the uritheria medallion. Chayin took it, expressionless, and put it around his
own-neck. Sereth held the bladder to my lips, and let me only wet my tongue. His arm tightened around
my waist, his fingers twisted in my Nemarsi chald. Again he gave me drink, and this time my stomach
seemed filled by the single swallow he allowed me.
     “Did you find what you sought?” Chayin asked, as again Sereth impelled me to use my legs as best I
could.
     “I found the sounding board of an instrument that might someday play that music which holds the
spheres in harmony. But I must learn to play it. The theory is not enough. The practice, the skill, might
sometime be mine,” I said.
     This answer, I felt, met Sereth’s conditions. My sidelong glance at his face confirmed it. He had put,
however, his restrictions upon what I could say, only. About what I could do, he had said nothing. Then
did I give Chayin the one gift I had for him, in such a way that my anonymity was protected; I banished
his affliction from him. Sereth knew no more than that I again leaned heavily upon him. Chayin, pacing us
silent on my left side, knew not what I did. But I knew. It was enough.
     “The helsar disappeared, around sun’s meal this day. Did you shatter it?” Chayin pressed me. I
sighed, and the shifting of the time was not lost upon me. For a moment I wondered if perhaps I had
come back to a different now from that I had left, but I shook the feeling away.
     “I do not know,” I lied, not meeting Chayin’s eyes. I turned, instead, to Sereth, that he might help
me. But he only took his arm from my waist. He stood, watching me, waiting, hands upon his hips. I
wavered upon my feet, unaided.
     And then I told Chayin, as I had agreed, that I would give back the chald I wore, even though it
meant going back upon my word, and also all that he had given me.
     And he seemed not at all surprised, only sub-dued and solemn.
     “All but Guanden, I will take. If you truly do not want him, give him then to Sereth. And this”—and
he crossed the room in three strides and dug in his saddlepack, returning to us with a volume bound in the
green-patterned hide of slitsa.
     “I must divest myself of all possessions,” I objected.
     “You may have the ors,” Sereth said softly, “and I will take the threx in safekeeping for you.” I
looked at him, grateful.
     I took the Ors Yris-tera into my hands. Then I reached up and put my arms around Chayin’s
pow-erful neck and kissed him. His answering embrace was light, restrained, his lips upon mine dry and
passionless.
     “There is only one thing that saddens me,” he said, holding me away from him, his hands upon my
shoulders. “That you hold your word—and the chald of Nemar—so cheap.” Then he took his hands
from me and drew his gol-knife, and before I could move, he had sliced from me the chald of Nemar. I
heard the tinkle of the split links as they fell from their strands to the floor. Then he reached into his
breech and threw something down beside those links. It rattled as it struck, and lay still, shimmer-ing—in
the dim light. I looked down, at my feet, upon my Astrian chald.
     “Take it,” hissed Chayin.
     It pained me that he had so misunderstood. I saw Sereth’s knowing smile, oblique.
     “It is mine no longer,” I demurred. “It is not only the chald of Nemar I have put by me, but chaldra. It
does not serve me to carry the weight of chaldra.” I saw the membranes snapping, agitated, back and
forth across Chayin’s eyes.
     “Have you no honor?” he demanded.
     “Do not talk to me of honor. It is a foreign thing to me, and one too easily taken up and put down. I
am a woman. I know nothing of honor. I know only survival. Honor is—for men. You, a man, took what
fantasies of honor I had from me!” I spat back at him.
     I turned to Sereth, for he understood. My eyes implored his for help, but none was forthcoming.
     “Chaldra was everything to me once, for I thought it right and just and obtaining to the law within.
Now I have lost it.” I stared down at it; at the Well-Keepress’ strand nestled there among the others,
and at the red strand—due for changing—of the chaldra of the mother. Red indeed had been the deeds
done to discharge that one; both before and after. Now it would never be changed.
     Sinking to the floor upon trembling knees, I reached out and touched the chald. I ran my fin-gers in it,
this one last time.
     “Get up!” Sereth ordered. I did, leaving the chald there. “We must keep those limbs moving awhile
longer.” He beckoned me. I went to his side. His narrowed eyes assessed my body, his supporting arms
propelled me, to the door. “You want to know how you lost Astria. You might simply have asked. I will
tell you.” His voice was hard-edged, stra-cold. “But first we will walk you to the lake and back; there
you will bathe. Then we will eat.” He motioned Chayin to also support me, for my mus-cles had taken a
fit of trembling; tetanus after so long, unmoving. I wavered upon my feet.
     I pressed my arms against me, crossing them over my chest, that I might stop the tremors that shook
me. My palms upon my arms found the skin there dry and flaking, as if by fever. Everywhere I touched
myself, that skin that had been darkened by the sun of Nemar came away, a powder, and beneath it the
new skin was lighter. In some few places it glowed, hot copper in the uncertain light. I needed a bath.
     “Let’s go to the lake,” I agreed. “But I am not hurigry.”
     “You will eat,” said Sereth, as the door slid aside and, we walked, the three of us atangle, the
corridors of his keep.
     “If you insist, but I am not hungry.”
     “I need not insist. Nor explain. You will obey me, without question.” And I bent my head and said
nothing, for I knew that I would, in all things, defer to him.
     I watched my bare feet, between theirs, pass upon the archite floor. He had left me no choice. Sereth
knew me, perhaps as no other man ever knew me. I walked with great attention, conscious of my body,
furious at its feeble response. As best I could, I straightened my shoulders and tightened my flanks under
me, that my movements might be once again graceful and pleasing. I had not walked so in a long time,
and I felt the outcry of certain muscles as I brought them into play. In Nemar, I had adopted, perhaps
unconsciously, the tiask’s manly strut. Here such would not do, and Sereth, ever watchful, saw, and
smiled to himself, reach-ing out a hand across me to touch Chayin’s arm, brushing my breasts as he did
so. My nipples rose to that touch. My body had not forgotten his.
     “It is as I told you,’ said Sereth to Chayin. And
     Chayin looked first at me, assessing, and then across to Sereth.
     “I see it, but I do not believe it. And I certainly do not understand!” We crossed into the white
corridor.
     “She was well-trained,” said Sereth, grinning. “But you spoiled her. She lost perspective. She needed
only to be reminded. If the man does not sense himself male, the female cannot sense her-self female
against him.”
     “In Nemar, it is different.” Chayin pondered.
     “Indeed it is.” Sereth laughed. “Treat a woman like a man, and she will do her best to become one. If
you want a woman, and she thinks herself a man, you must remind her.” He spoke as if I was not
present.
     “But Liuma is not like that. She, is ...” Chayin objected, struck wordless.
     “Pregnant with your child,” Sereth finished his sentence for him. “Even if she were not, she is yours
by law. By any man’s law! Would you give up a prized threx to another because under his hand she was
gentler than under your own? You would not. What difference, then, with a woman? The flat of your
hand is sufficient upon a threx, and upon a woman also. I tell you, you should take her back! One does
not give up what one still covets, surely, even in Nemar!”
     Chayin flinched from Sereth’s words. Then he looked again at me.
     “It seems to be my habit,” he admitted, “to give up what I most desire. I gave up Liuma, and
Menetph, and this one, too. Perhaps you are right, perhaps I should take back some of what I have
given.
     “Looking at her, I can see that I never really had her. I did not first agree, but this”—and he touched
my still-erect nipples, and ran his hand down me—“shows me your truth. I will have my choice, and my
chance, soon enough, if what Wiraal and Pijaes say is true.”
     “The choice, and the chance, are yours alone,” Sereth said.
     “And what,” I demanded, “do Wiraal and Pijaes say?”—
     Sereth and Chayin exchanged looks in silence.
     “Tiasks speak first in Nemar,” Chayin pointed out grinning, though he tried not to show his mirth.
     “But this is not Nemar, and she is no longer tiask,” Sereth rejoined, as we turned the final cor-ner
that led out into the hidden valley that was the Ebvrasea’s.
     The night sky was cloud-covered. Beneath my feet the grass was slippery with moisture. A fine
drizzle fell steadily.
     “Still it rains,” Chayin wondered in a portent-heavy voice. “It has rained since you fell under the
helsar’s spell.” His grasp caught me as I slipped upon a hidden rock and pitched forward.
     “Doubtless,” I answered, “it often rains upon the slopes of Mount Opir.” My embarrassment at my
clumsiness flushed me hot. I was glad they could not see it in the misty dark. The moon, close to third
phase, dived in and out of the clouds like some grinta fish skimming the Embrodming Sea.
     “It has rained, these four days past, upon not only the mountains, but upon Frullo jer as well. It rains,
perhaps, upon all of Nemar. It is an uneasy omen. Never in my lifetime has it rained in the pass Amarsa.
The uris will rot, for the ground rejects this untimely torrent. Hael—”
     ‘Chayin!” Sereth’s warning cut him short. So there were things that Chayin, also, had been
con-strained by Sereth’s will not to discuss with me.
     “Hael has roused many among those at Frullo jer against you,” I said, that Sereth might have the
proof he sought by his constraint. They stopped in their tracks, as one man. The moon broke through the
clouds, backlighting them. It shone back upon itself from out of the lake, down the slope from us. “They
will rise out of the desert and strike you upon the plain of Astria, under the banner of Tar-Kesa’s will.
Thus does Raet move against me. Chayin, you must choose where you stand—your father has turned
upon you!” And neither spoke, not even to reprimand me for my outburst.
     “Sereth, you also must make a choice. If it is your pleasure to set Celendra groveling at your feet, do
so knowing what will follow. If you war with Day-Keepers, it is a doomed battle. I must know your will
aforehand, to do it.”
     “There is only that which one chooses, eh?” Sereth said. “As you say, it is my pleasure to set
Celendra at my feet. Since Chayin killed Aknet, it is also, necessary for him to lend a hand. Celendra will
not rest until she has her revenge, and she can call all of M ‘Icsakka to her aid. She holds Dellin so tight
he has lost the ability to think.” And I winced, in the dark, at the mention of Dellin, who once in my
ignorance I thought I loved.
     “Day-Keepers war with me, not I with them,” continued Sereth, squatting down to tear up hand-fuls
of the wet grass. “We must strike first. If the Day-Keepers would allow Celendra to come to rule in
Astria through murder and guile, if they would do what Hael has done, what Vedrev did, then it seems to
me that someone must stand against them.” He looked up at the sky, squinted at the moon. “And if all
this is simply peripheral to some struggle between you and Raet, that does not make it less real. As many
would die, were neither you nor your god-friend involved.” He tossed his head, threw down one last
mangled handful of turf, and straightened•up.
     Sereth crill Tyris set his hest, and cared for nothing less. He had known, all along, what it had taken
me so long to learn. Even against Raet, he would not give it up. I reached out and touched his arm.
     “We will need a multiplicity of plans, to fool a forereader,” I said.
     “How many?” Chayin asked, with implicit assent.
     “Five, say. Enough that she sees only the out-come—her downfall—and cannot determine how it will
come. We must make her doubt her own sensing. We shall give her a taste of forereader’s disease.”
Chayin laughed at this, and Sereth swat-ted my rump and pushed me gently toward the lake.
     “Bathe, little monster. I would have you clean enough to couch before morning,” he commanded me.
     The water was very cold, colder-seeming because when I jumped back after testing it with my toe,
Sereth picked me up, waded in up to his own hips, and dropped me cruelly into the icy lake. Laughing
and sputtering, I pulled his legs from under him, that he might join me. We played thus, until I saw
Chayin, sitting upon the bank, alone. The rain stopped entirely while I bathed myself, scraping away the
dead skin with handfuls of fine bottom sand.
     “Do my back?” I asked Sereth,
     “Kneel down, then,” he said. I did, my knees in the soft sand, and his hands worked knowingly upon
my back, kneading sore muscles expertly.
     ‘You are couching him, are you not?” I asked him.
     “Yes,” Sereth said, toneless.
     “It is a common thing in the south,” I said. He rinsed his hands in the water, and turned to-ward the
bank, where Chayin waited.
     “It is a common thing,” he said, offering his hand to me.
     “I would consider it a great courtesy,” I peti-tioned him softly, “if you would leave me out of what
transpires between you.”
     “Why, Well-Keepress?” I tugged on his hand, that he would stop. He pulled me forward.
     could give you a child, this night. I would, want no doubt as to its sire.”
     And then he did stop. I spoke those words upon impulse, unthinking. It was not in my plan, or my
sensing. And yet I wanted it, though it would change all that was to be.
     “Could you?” he demanded.
     “Yes.” I did not say that I now had that choice, anytime, with any man. As Estrazi had said to me
long ago, one must but direct one’s organs to do so.
     “Could you take some precaution against it, then? I want no such thing. I would not bring, about a
child I might not live to succor.”
     If he had struck me full force, he could not, have hurt me more. And what could I say to him? That I
could protect him? If it came to be that I could, and he knew it, at that moment he would be lost to me,
as surely as if by his death. I was, though I knew him right, much shamed by his rejection. Although I had
thrown off chaldra, its values were still within me. The Ebvrasea, it seemed, had truly shed its
conditioning.
     Sereth, already upon the bank, had his arm upon Chayin’s, and they spoke together in low tones. I
regarded the sky above me, and hastened the clouds’ clearing. When I ascended the bank, some little
ways away from them, the north star Clous twin-Med brightly. I lay down upon the wet grass, spread-ing
my dripping hair about me. Wirur, the winged hulion, watched over me from out of a clear sky. I went to
do my hest, my first with my new skills. Upon the grids of force that hold the seven uni-verses forming, I
rode, past those whose thrum-ming guardianship keeps the primal order. I show-ered in star’s breath,
moving ever back from the timetracks, that I might see truly. One cannot move in time, for time is within
mind. What we appre-hend as empty space abounds with mind. At that place where all is congruency, I
stopped, and turned to see what conceptions existed there; whose will had preceded me. Upon a place
that glowed and pulsed from the strain already on the time, I built still another conception. I could not
excise the color pulses from the Astrian sky, nor the corpses ever crawling upon that bloody plain. I
forced what existed to my will, and finally saw there a kind of victory. Sereth, I could see, and I did what
I might to protect him. When at last I could hold us together, unscathed, in my vision, there was a
snap-ping of the time, sharp as a slitsa’s tail, and I found that I had bridged a gap, and locked my will
into another, far larger conception. Not what I had hested, but bound to succeed. And so deft was the
hand that laid that hest, I could not break the link. I bowed my will to that power, which I had previously
only sensed.
     I sighed, and sat up under the Opirian sky. Sereth was surely served, perhaps even saved. And since
I had not taken time to deal with the seven-cornered room, I put the thought of it away, that I might
concentrate upon what I had done. Lastly, before went back to the men, I checked my weapons, those I
meant for Raet. I looked up at Wirur, and took the constellation’s measure. If such a battle was truly to
be, I would be ready.
     And I reveled in my mortal flesh, as I got up and went to sit with Sereth and Chayin, almost twins in
the moonlight, and that Raet could not sustain himself in such a body. I had seen the best he could do,
under the Falls of Santha. Upon his world, I had been badly disadvantaged. Here, he would take the
burden. Nonsequential structures cannot exist, as we know it, in three-dimensional time and space.
Raet’s power here would be lessened, so much of it turned to simply staying. The need of time-space to
spit him out of it might be ,turned to my advantage.
     “What,” said Sereth, for I had been long still and silent, “are you thinking?”
     “That of which you have forbidden me to speak,” I answered.
     “Then do not speak of it,” he said and got to his feet, starting back up the slope without another
word. Chayin and I scrambled, silent, after him. Once, when I stumbled, the cahndor steadied me. He
smiled at me, and tousled my wet hair. A wind sprang up and circled the lake like some trapped animal.
It raised the cold in me, and I was glad enough to take shelter from it in the always per-fect !mildness of
Sereth’s ancient keep.
     We had a saying, in our wellwomen’s training:
     “If you desire something from a man, tell him you do not want it.”
     “What I need now,” said Chayin, rolling to his back, “is some real fear and loathing.”
     “Indeed?” Sereth propped himself up upon one elbow. “There is, among our admittedly meager
selection of captives, one blond daughter of a wealthy parr-breeder. She enthusiastically fears us, and her
loathing is hardly feigned.”
     “I will have to wake her up.” Chayin grinned, fastening his breech about him. He also took his sword
belt and strapped it on.
     Sereth regarded the sword belt. “She is not dangerous. You can encircle both her wrists with one
hand, easily.” He sounded mildly reproving. Giddy, I felt like laughing. I restrained myself, barely,
pressing my head against Sereth’s thigh.
     “I want to make a strong first impression. Where will I find her?”
     “Past the white corridor, straight three, left at the fourth. Ask the man on watch for her. Tell him what
I told you. There are three empty chambers just left of this one. Take your choice.” Sereth’s fingers
played in the hair about my neck as he gave Chayin tasa.
     I traced a scar, one I had noticed immediately, with my lips. It went from just left and below his
navel, crosswise, down his flat belly, was obscured by the hair there, to show again, trailing off across his
right thigh. It was not new, by any means, but it had been deep, and in a hard place to take such a heavy
cut. The darker ridge of it was as wide as my middle finger.
     “How did you come by this?” I asked him, laying my head upon his stomach, my face toward his. I
saw him through a forest of gold-brown hairs, some short and curling—his; some long and straighter, and
tending toward bronze—my own.
     “They sent Ganrom against me.” I was sorry I had asked.
     I said so.
     “No matter. They sent him against me, and I killed him. He sponsored me for the Slayer’s chain. He
was a good man. But it was his chaldra to come against me.” Sereth shrugged, but his hand was rough in
my hair as he pulled me up to lie sidewise against him, his arm around me.
     “Why would they have sent him ... ?” I was aghast that the Day-Keepers would set one man upon
the other, when all knew they were like brothers.
     “They were thus surely rid of one of us. Strange moves, they made, to trap me. That is not the
strangest, but only the most costly.” He rubbed at his groin, remembering. And I saw what he
remem-bered, and his pain, and the long angry months of work upon his stiffened side. He mourned
Ganrom’s loss, but not that he had killed him. In his remem-brances of the fight between them, upon
some black lava rocks, was mixed a certain satisfaction, a quiet triumph. I shivered and withdrew from
his mind.
     “Now, you tell me something,” he said, drawing me closer .. Unconsciously, I had pulled my body
from him along with my sensing. “Tell me how it was to be crell. How you felt. Chayin told me what he
did, what he knew. You tell me the rest.”
     So I did that, puzzled, and under his urging I left nothing out, lest I leave out what he wanted to
know. He listened attentively, interrupting me twice only.
     “I have neglected to thank you for recruiting him,” Sereth said, when I told of the crell Aje—Lalen
gaesh Saternit. “Men of his skill pass this way infrequently.”
     And again, when I spoke of the crell whom not even Besha dared call anything but Carth, who said
he was agent of the dharen of all Silistra-again did Sereth interrupt me, asking me to repeat everything
concerned with him.
     When I mentioned that proof I had seen during my Parset enchalding, the tapestry with the likeness
of Raet upon it, Sereth withheld comment.
     “You, of all people, know I am not mad,” I pressed him.
     “I never thought you were,” he said softly, his lips against my ear. “What do you wish me to say? If
he would face me, as a man, with a sword or any other mortal’s weapon, I could fight him for you. I will
fight his minions, be they fleshly, until I drown in their blood or am buried under their corpses. I will surely
fight Hael. He is a man, like any other. But more than that I cannot do.” He kissed my throat, and rose
upon his elbow to peer down into my face.
     “Think you,’’ he asked me, “that it will be enough?”
     “Doubtless,” I assured him.—The light played tricks upon his face above me. I raised up my head
until our lips met.
     “I think,” he said after a time, “that you lie. That you do doubt.”
     “Not you, but myself, do I doubt.”
     He grunted, and lay down once again. I nestled against him and watched the room-flicker play upon
the hollow in his throat. I was sure now; the ceiling was lightening. Outside, it must be nearing a new day.
     “What will you do with Celendra, when you have her?” I asked him.
     “I have not decided,” he said. “Perhaps I will give her to Chayin. I owe him a woman.”
     “Surely you jest!”
     “Why? Should I kill her, but let you live? A woman is dangerous only when she commands men. She
will be safe in the crellpits. Even you could not escape them. He can kill her, if he wants to. I am no
woman-killer.”
     “I think you hold her too lightly,” I said, angry, though I knew not why. He sensed it, and turned
silently, to smooth the fury from my body, know-ing that my mind would helpless follow. And that made
me more angry, for a brief time. Then that was gone from me, and I but moved under those hands that
had taught me my femaleness, and I found that they had still more to teach.
     I dozed under him; after, until awakened by one of his men, standing frozen over us.
     • “What is it, Idrer?” Sereth said, rolling onto his back. Only then did I recall the large, heavyset,
black-haired Slayer I had first met with Dellin upon the road to Arlet. He had been of Ganrom’s band.
He nodded to me. I smiled back stiffly.
     “A large number of mounted riders approach us.” His voice held ill-restrained unease.
     “Jaheil and Nineth, probably,” I opined. “Chayin invited Jaheil, and gave him the route, should he
choose to follow it.”
     “Why was I not informed? Get Chayin, he is in one of the empty chambers. See if he expects
anyone. Have him in the screen room when I get there. How many do you make them?”
     “Forty to fifty. They are still far.”
     “Mount fifty, and have them wait at the cavern mouth. They need the drill. Move!”
     Idrer was gone, charging the door, which barely slid from his path in time.
     Sereth took up breech and sword belt.
     “If you are coming, bestir yourself,” he ordered me. I got up, looking for the clothes I had brought. I
could not find them. “Here.” Sereth threw me a bundle, and I unwrapped it and sat awe-struck above all
that had been in Issa’s saddlepack upon the trail to Santha, While I still hovered, staring, at the breech
and band and tas-wear and combs and plump coin purse that had been mine, he threw down upon the
pile the stra-hilted gol-knife he had given me, and after it a sheath and belt.
     “Hurry, or you will miss the wonders of this place at work.” I was in the breech and band, with the
knife in sheath belted around me, within a dozen breaths, but still I had to run to catch him, striding down
the hall. He entered three cubicles in turn, but Chayin was within none of them. The last, however,
showed signs of recent use.
     Sereth grunted, satisfied.
     “What wonders?” I asked him, as we entered the corridor “Comm. Infer., Comm. Intra.” He smiled
bleakly and pointed at the legend upon the wall. We stopped before a door. Like the other doors in this
section, it bore a pre-hide Silistran label.
     “‘DAS.’ What is that?” I asked.
     The door slid aside and I saw what Sereth’s answer confirmed.
     “Direct Access Screening. Whoever built this place was concerned about who might be coming to
visit.” I saw a very odd-looking console, with no faders, and what seemed to be a large assortment of
light-emitting diodes, all blinking. Sereth began moving his hands over them, and I realized them to be
light sensors of some sort. It looked easy. All the room lit up with views of the slopes of Opir, except for
the wall behind Sereth’s back. In places the images were not sharp, but hazy.
     “That is a large blind spot, after going to so much trouble,” I remarked. One quarter of the slopes,
north to northwest, had no surveillance.
     “Those eyes saw, once. It is broken, and I am not mechanic enough to fix it, nor do I have the part.
It would take a Day-Keeper, and I am hesitant to call one.” He grinned, his eyes upon his hands, which
flickered across the board; low, high, pause, but never did he touch the console’s surface. The
countryside loomed closer, closer.
     I saw in Sereth’s face that absorption of man with machine that had brought the culture whose
remnants we used crashing down upon its creators. His hands flew upon the panel.
     “Look,” he said. Truly I had no alternative, ex-cept the blind eye behind us. He showed me the
thing’s skills; it produced a number of different viewpoints, even one of the empty sky. Then he laughed,
for he saw them. And again his fingers slid upon the empty air above the lighted console. The
magnification increased, and the moving mass ascending the slopes of Opir showed itself com-posed of
threxmen. Sereth grunted. I heard the door. Chayin and another, Idrer, entered. One final time did Sereth
play upon the panel,, and we saw before us Jaheil ‘s party.
     “Well?” demanded Sereth, turning from the screen, leaning stiff-armed against the console. He did
not, then, know Jaheil. I struggled with the image, searching to see if Nineth was among the riders, as she
and I had pacted.
     “It is Jaheil, and I did invite him,” said Chayin, relieved, surprised, and obviously pleased. “But he
said he would not come.” He peered closer at the screen. “It seems that the chandor of Dordassa found
not only a yra of jiasks, but recruited some of my own tiasks, also.” And his eyes upon me let me know
he saw my hand in that ..
     • I grinned at him. Sereth looked between us.
     “That is all I need!” Sereth said very quietly. “More tiasks. Where am I going to put them?” He
caressed the board into darkness. The images did not fade; they were simply gone, the room sud-denly
acquiring walls of milky gray.
     “Seems to me,” said Idrer, who seldom spoke, “that they’ll, find couch to suit them, as did the first
batch. Those tents of theirs lasted half the first night!” He was smirking. I had wondered about that, when
I went to, the lake. There I had seen no appreis risen on the grass, no sign of the forty-two Parsets
Wiraal and Pijaes had brought. I wondered what couches the tiasks had found—outlaws’, jiasks’, or one
another’s.
     “We had twelve wounded,” reminded Sereth, “before they settled down.”
     “Twelve you heard about,” muttered Chayin. “Do you want me to recall the fifty mounted at the
cavern’s mouth?” Idrer asked.
     “No. Send them out to meet this Jaheil, cahndor of Dordassa. Have them mind their manners.”
     Idrer snorted. Sereth eyed him bleakly. “Then have them pretend. I will have no infighting!”
     When Idrer left, still chuckling, Sereth darkened the room itself. “Old habits die hard, with us all,” he
said, touching me lightly. “Your friend Lalen hamstrung a tiask the night before last. Some-thing about an
old debt.” We left the darkened room, and the corridor light seemed very bright.
     “I miss your meaning,” I said to him.
     “I might like his sword beside mine.”
     “I would count him as a friend, nothing more. But we have no bad debt between us, if that is what
you want to know.”
     “Something like that,” he admitted. “Chayin, what say you?”
     “I hardly know him. There are many crells in Nemar.”
     “That is my point,” Sereth said, serious. “Ask him.” Chayin shrugged.
     “I will. What of this Jaheil? Do we need what is now close to one hundred of your men—and
women—for this? I had thought more like fifty.”
     “Let us see what Jaheil knows that we do not, of Hael and what he plans. Jaheil’s sword is worth ten
lesser blades, his loyalty unquestionable.”
     “I see,” said Sereth, and took a turning that would lead us to the kettle room. “I want a map from
you, Estri, of Well Astria, every room and passage.” •
     “And the tunnels beneath her, perhaps? Would you have any interest in such as secret passages, or
long-forgotten access to the undertunnels from above?” I asked him.
     “Anything you think might be of interest,” he answered me, thoughtful. “We also have access to those
tunnels here.”
     “So I assumed,” I said.
     “You could never get a threx down there.”
     “Are your men so far removed from the Slayers’ ways that they can no longer fight upon their own
two feet?” I wondered.
     “Whose sortie is this, yours or mine?” be growled, but pulled me against him as we turned into the
kettle room, crowded with men at sun’s meal. Many stood with their bowls in hand; so full was the
archite green chamber that they could not sit.
     “Yours and Chayin’s,” I retorted. But I am your instrument, and must perform creditably.” Chayin
laughed, raising his hands as if to defend himself.
     “Not me! The ebvrasea, upon the square of over-riding purpose, uses the threx and man to his
ends,” he informed me. I made a face and stuck my tongue out at him. “Hale is not here to keep us
abreast,” he added. “You should read the Ors Yris-tera.” We took up bowls from the pile of them in
one corner and *got into the line waiting to be, fed.
     “I do not need to—I have you for my daily dose of obscurity,” I answered him, as we all took three
steps forward, then stopped with the line while another was served. Sereth’s eyes roamed his men,
acknowledging individuals among them, speaking now with one, now with another as they drifted to him.
I wondered how he kept them all straight, and their concerns matched with faces. It was a strong bond
between him and these men, who had left so much behind upon principle.
     He excused himself from us, handing me his bowl, and crossed the room slowly, for everywhere
men’s hands reached out to stay him. And he would wait patiently and answer each one, and smile or
touch, and then move on. And I saw whom he sought, before he reached him. Lalen, sitting cross-legged
with the room’s far corner at his back, hunched meditatively over his bowl, his large blond head bowed.
     Sereth threaded his way toward him—crouched down. I found I could get a good sense of what
passed between them; Sereth’s direct questioning, Lalen’s level, thoughtful answers. When Sereth rose,
the massive blond rose with him.
     “I believe,” said Chayin when they reached us, “that we have never really met,” and he held out, his
hand to Lalen, who took it in his larger, pale grasp almost shyly. He wore no longer the Parset clothes I
had bought him,.but had availed himself of Sereth’s fitters’ skill.
     “It is good to see you, Estri, where you wanted so desperately to be.” He turned his gaze upon
Sereth. , “In the shock of first bondage, she was most concerned with you and what had befallen you. I
found such loyalty remarkable in a woman.” And, I flushed, embarrassed, wishing I had never bent my
hand to free him.
     “And you,” I rejoined, “in a position more suited to your skills.”
     “I did not mean to offend you,” he apologized, his pale brows raised.
     “Then in the future, be more careful with what might be offensive.” And I found I had learned that
manner of Sereth’s of putting menace and chill in a lowered voice.
     “Stop it, you two,” Sereth enjoined us, terse. “Friendship, indeed!”
     I turned away, and found myself before the ket-tle master, who served me a portion. It saddened me
to see the bitterness toward women Lalen carried. I doubted that I would ever understand a man’s sense
of fitness. I resolved to be careful of him.
     While we ate, standing, Sereth questioned the larger blond man of Carth, who had been upon the
same chain. Lalen knew little. But he knew other things, he said, from the crellpits, that might be of
interest. Lalen then asked Chayin, point blank, if he should refrain from speaking lest the cahndor be
offended. The cahndor bade him speak .. It seemed that the romance between Hael and Liuma, built for
the seas of adversity, foundered upon the shaols of triumph; their secrets had poured raging from Liuma’s
mouth in a final effort to extort control upon Hael, suddenly uncontrollable. The amount of detail Lalen
held within him of Hael’s actions gave them, then and there, their first plan. Chayin allowed that, since
only a few men were needed, he would set Wiraal’s yra off by threx, this very day, to see to it. Celendra
could not refuse to serve them, for as long as they paid well-price, they must be couched .. If I had been
Celendra, and so soon after the death of my father a whole yra of the conqueror’s jiasks appeared at my
gate and made known their intention to stay, I would be nervous. And when those men made it clear that
they awaited others, I think I should have, if I were Celendra, broken out trembling. And rightly so, for
upon the second seventh of Amarsa, one set from this day, the two, of Wiraal’s men, who would have
reserved and couched the Well-Keepress the night before, were to do three things. One of those things
necessitated delaying Wiraal’s departure un-til I could draw up an appropriate map. We has-tened to
Sereth’s quarters, where I made a fast sketch, which Chayin took from me, that he might start Wiraal
upon his way, and be back in time to greet Jaheil.
     “I still do not understand,” I complained to Sereth when Chayin had taken leave of us.
     “Nor I, admitted Lalen, leaning against the color-swirl wall of Sereth’s keep.
     “Good. Then perhaps Celendra and Hael will not understand. One good plan is about all I can
manage.” Sereth leaned over my shoulder, where I worked upon the floor at a larger, more detailed map.
     “Celendra has a number of Nemarsi in her Well, and she cannot get rid of them until they move
against her. They let it be known that they are expecting reinforcements. Celendra demands Slay-ers’
aid, against what she will then be sure is a plot to fall upon her from within and without. To move against
Parsets, the Slayers must have Day-Keeper authority. I wager they will get it, about the time Hael comes
storming, battle-ready, across the plain, that he might catch Chayin upon his way out of a ravaged Well
Astria with Celendra. All Parsets look alike to Slayers. Neither force is likely to wait to be introduced.
The Slayers fall upon Hael’s men, thinking them to be us. We, meanwhile, have come up through the
undertun-nels. We free Wiraal’s men, if they need us. We overwhelm those within the Well. We go back
into the undertunnels, with Celendra, and whatever else we are pleased to take. Hael cannot possibly
survive.”
     Sereth fell silent. Lalen rubbed his chin with his hand. Then he whistled softly between his teeth.
     “What if Hael decides to hide in wait, or is late arriving?” I asked.
     “From the rear, certain of my men, who excel at such skills, will provide stimulus, if it is needed. We
might even, if it is necessary, give Hael a few threx riders to chase.” Lalen was now nodding vigorous
agreement.
     I finished my map of the Well and sat up as Sereth’s eyes caught mine.
     “It is, of course, only a plan,” he said.
     “I had the impression,” I remarked, “that Chayin wanted to confront Hael personally. Has he agreed
to this?”
     “Yes, with certain contingency schemes.”
     “Then, though it does not match my sorting, I cannot gainsay it.” I handed him the finished drawing.
Lalen cleared his throat, restless. Sereth’s eyes held me bound in ice.
     ‘You trust his judgment, where you will not trust mine?” He spoke barely above a whisper. I leaned
over and touched his face, where the mus-cles jumped in his jaws.
     “No. That is not what I meant. I know too little to have a valid opinion, tha .. Is all. You have not
‘even told me how Celendra came to rule in Astria.”
     “That is true,” he said. Lalen rose and wandered the keep’s expanse, stopping long over Sereth’s
racked weapons, his unease evident in the set of his frame.
     “Was she this contrary, even as a crell?” Sereth asked him.
     Lalen turned to face us, the taste of a smile upon his lips.
     “Even as a crell,” he confirmed.
     “And how was she as a woman to you?” queried Sereth in a careful, even voice.
     Lalen laughed. “Contrary also. Stiff and conten-tious. I was to breed her, and she would have none
of me. The crellkeep had to all but stand over us. I thought her just untalented, but that cannot be true.
She kept Chayin’s interest. She has yours.” He bent his blond shaggy head and picked some-thing off the
floor. It was my Astrian chald.
     “I have always disliked blonds,” I said apologeti-cally. Untalented, indeed.
     Sereth was amused. Lalen inspected my chald, and I saw that the weight of it was not lost upon him.
With a twinge, I reminded myself that I no longer bore that weight.
     “She was your mistress for a time, was she not?” Sereth asked him.
     “Yes,” said Lalen, and threw the chald casually onto the rack against which he leaned. “But only
nominally,” he added from under his pale brows, the words a growl in his throat. I wished I were
elsewhere. What had Sereth to gain from this?
     “How can one be ‘nominally’ enslaved?”
     “She was busy with Chayin. I ... She ... I do not know what you want me to say,” said Lalen, his
head hunched between his shoulders. “I was hurt, convalescing. She neither used me nor abused me. She
set no work upon me.”
     “Then she was a good mistress?” Sereth contin-ued his inquisition.
     “Yes,” said Lalen; every muscle in his body taut. “But you do not feel indebted to her for that?”
     “No.’
     “Stop it!” I demanded.
     “Be silent!” Sereth instructed me. “You do not, in fact, bear any debt to her, though she freed you,
though she directed you here, into a situation that suits you.”
     “She did what pleased her!” The words burst from Lalen’s tight lips.
     “If I asked you to take your sword and kill her now, would you do —so?”
     “Gladly.” Lalen drew his blade, and the shifting wall colors played upon it.
     I froze where I knelt upon the floor. Lalen moved purposefully toward me. In three strides he would
reach me. In two.
     “Wait!” snapped Sereth, rising. I looked up at them, at the blade poised in Lalen’s pale grip. “Sheath
it!” Lalen did as he was bid, shaking his head back and forth as if to clear it.
     “Thank you,” said Sereth, and touched the blond man’s arm, Their eyes met. “No man,” said Sereth
to me, “would behave any differently. A man whose life has been in a woman’s hands can feel no
gratitude. He does, however, feel other things.” He turned to face Lalen.
     “Can I put you, in the face of what you feel, to protect her?” he asked.
     Lalen stared at Sereth. “I seek your service,” he said finally. “In truth, I did not know the bitter-ness
in me until you bade me kill her. How sweet the thought.” He laughed, without humor. “I will keep her
alive for you.”
     “I have no doubt that you will,” said the Ebvra-sea. “Make your gear ready. You will leave with us,
mid-meal tomorrow. I will find you, if I need you before then.” And Sereth walked Lalen to the door.
     I still knelt where I had crouched under Lalen’s blade. My limbs shook and my mouth was
tear-fouled.
     “I hope,” said Sereth, squatting upon the balls of his feet beside me, “that you, took my meaning. He
is, a good man.”
     “I took it,” I said numbly.
     “Now,” he said, stretching himself out upon the resilient floor, “if you wish, I will tell you how Astria
went from Jana’s hands to Celendra’s.”
     I lay against him as he talked to me of Astria. I hardly listened. My tremors and fears would not leave
me. I learned that my name had been written upon the Day-Keepers’ Roll—that I was legally dead.
Jana’s name appeared there also, for it had been more than the two years required since she had
disappeared. Celandra had simply demanded the Well, as ranking keepress on, the planet, di-rectly after
my uncle Rathad’s death. That death, Sereth said, could not be attributed to any violence, nor was there
sign. of any unfair play. He had not been ill, he had simply died, leaving none of our blood in Astria.
Celendra appointed no adviser, but attempted to run both Port Astrin and Well Astria herself.
     “Astria,” he continued, “is much changed. Celen-dra has brought in every star trader’s device she
could imagine. It is said they have pleasure baths there now, where one floats without getting wet upon
innumerable founts of some special water. Port Astrin is surely the blackest hole upon Silistra.”
     “M’lennin must be thrilled,” I said, hate rising to temper the fear in me.
     “M’lennin is upon M’ksakka. Dellin is Liaison First, and has been since Celendra took up Astria.” I
sat up, and he narrowed his eyes at me. “He has taken the Slayer’s chain,” he continued. “Are you
upset?” he asked, and then sat up also. I scraped away my hair from my face, wondering when I would
have a moment to tend to it.
     “No. I just thought of something. If you have him in your plan, as you intimated, and he resides in the
Liaison First’s keep, I could be of help. There would have been no reason for them to have excised my
print from the computer that sentried that place. I can walk in there whehever I want. The doors will still
respond to my hand.”
     “You are upset,” he said, pulling my hands as they worried a snarl at my neck. I shook off his grasp.
     “Yes,” I admitted. “I am upset. That demonstra-tion of yours upset me. The past does not upset me.
I do not care about Dellin. I am frightened by what you showed me.”
     “It was merely instruction into the nature of men,” he said gently, raising my face to his with a hand
upon my throat.
     “And not a warning?” I asked.
     “We have been close upon such a situation before,” he admitted, and I knew he meant that time
below Santha, when I had bargained with Raet for his life.
     “Do not bind me this way. I must use what little skills I have to defend myself.”
     “Someone must.” He answered only my first statement. I was totally at a loss. What I had done in his
behalf, I could not undo. Nor could I forever keep from my skills, or keep him from knowing. I got up
and roamed the room, telling myself that I had so little power yet, my worry was premature. I made one
circle of Sereth’s keep; my right hand trailing upon the hilts of his racked weapons as I passed them. His
eyes followed me as I made a second circuit. It is often my need to move when I think. I ran my fingers
over the worn hilts that shone with the softness of metal in frequent use. They seemed ready to jump to
my hand.
     “Where is the cloak I wore when I came here?” I asked evenly, at a great cost. I stopped still, my
arms crossed around me, waiting.
     “In the chest.” His voice was frankly puzzled.
     I got it from where he had neatly folded it, and carried it near to him, spreading the plain-looking
brown width of it upon the browner floor. Taking the stra-hilted knife he had given me from its sheath, I
knelt upon the cape. Sereth rolled to his side and, propped his head upon his arm. I glared at him. He
grinned widely. I cut away the stitches that bound the brown cloth around my father’s cloak, working
carefully around the starburst clasps, first one, then the other. When every stich was loose, I lifted the top
layer of brown material, and the Shaper’s seal glittered like the stars in the keep’s shifting light.
    Sereth was up on his knees beside me. He leaned over the cloak, running his hand upon the
cool-feeling scintillant spiral. He knew that sign. He sat back upon his heels, silently questioning.
    I took the edge of the cloak and with it wiped the dulling agent from the sunburst clasp. Then I
backed off it and took the black cape in my hands and swirled it over my shoulders. I fastened the chain
between the clasps.
    “This is my couch-gift to you,” I said solemnly. “But you must know what it is about. And you must
accept, and not be angry. Promise me.”
    “I promise,” he replied.
    “Take up a blade you would not mind losing, and strike me anywhere the cloak covers me,” I
directed him.
    “Estri—”
    “Do it. I will not be harmed.”
    “I will not.”
    But in the end, he did go and find an old, much-seasoned weapon, whose blade bore numerous nicks
and chips.
    He stood before me with it, hefting the hilt medi-tatively in his hand.
    “You must strike with some little force,” I demanded, looking up at him with what I hoped was
confidence.
    “You are sure?”
    “Doubtless.”
    “There is no other way?”
    “It might only work with a person inside.”
    He shrugged, and brought his arm back and down so fast I could not have dodged it if I tried. I felt it
touch, and a sort of a mild shock. The blade, like the one I had tried upon Chayin, shattered into tiny
fragments, and for a moment they hung in the air, motes of metal dust. Sereth’s hand, the hilt still in it,
glanced my shoulder. What he held, when he recovered himself and looked down awe-struck, was but
the stub of a hilt, only the amount enclosed in his fingers. He balanced it upon his palm a time, staring.
    When he looked up at me, it was with a boyish, excited expression I had never seen upon him. I
    had been afraid that he would be angry, that he would refuse it.
    “That kind of help,” he said, “I will gladly accept.”
    I took it from my shoulders and handed it to him. He would doubtless need it. I, surely, did not. The
protection I sought was not from steel or gol. He took it from me, and put his arms around me. I was
content, even happy. I pushed away all else, that I might remember what passed between us
unshadowed. But the shadows of the future always cloak the past, and in doing so, change it.
    He looked well in the Shaper’s cloak, though he took it off almost immediately and replaced it in the
wooden chest. It seemed to me, in my wishful thinking, that he looked almost born to wear it. But Estrazi
had told me: Sereth was not for me. Yet I set my hest against him. I took those mo-ments to
reinforce—what I had done, to make a bastion against the chill winds that whined shrill songs in my ears.
    “You are sure,” asked Sereth, crossing the room to slide aside a hidden panel by the door, “that you
do not need it?”
    “I am sure,” I said.
    “This,” he said, closing the panel, “is my couch-gift to you, and one for me as costly as that cloak to
you. We have an enth, alone. None will disturb us. I would speak seriously with you.” And with that he
came and sat opposite me, his back upon the dais that still bore my Parset gear.
    “First, briefly, about Lalen. He has been, a good number of years, a slave. Such can do strange
things to a man’s mind. I had to see what he would do. I wanted you to realize, also, where such a man
would put you. If he falls, in your service, you need not even blink. But I think he will not fall. He will
protect himself. A man must do that, first. His hand will be stronger, his head clearer, then perhaps even
mine, for it is his only task to see that you live.” He slid down upon his spine and looked up at me.
    “I see,” I said. I knew that look upon him. I waited.
    “When I met you, my life was settled. I had, in my own eyes, success. I had women, children, land,
threx. Position and power—all a man wants. I had the Seven’s sword.
     “I misjudged some few actions, and I lost it. When I drew upon Vedrev, I had no clear thought. And
when I found myself with so many swords in my service, it was too late. I did not want this.” He waved
his, hand. ,”Alone I might have gone to Dritira, or Galesh, and made some new life. I can-not leave these
men, who left so much forme,”
     He took a deep breath and blew it sibilantly between his teeth.
     “I speak to you of this with some difficulty,” he said finally. “I have always kept my own counsel. This
is a precipitous life, with no clear purpose, or any proper ending. We are marginally safe in the Parset
Lands. Elsewhere ..” His voice trailed off.
     “When I conceived plucking Celendra out of Astria, it was a simple undertaking. Something to fill the
time, I thought it, and another small strike against the Day-Keepers who continually harass me. I wanted
Chayin ‘s Parsets to hide among, and we would have walked in there and taken her out from under their
very noses.” He smiled wanly. “However, things are greatly changed. All has be-come very serious, and
the dangers are no longer slight.” And his voice turned even softer, and I leaned forward to catch his
words.
     “You must decide what you would do if I do not survive this. And consider, that if I do, there is
always the next time. Chayin and I will doubtless come to contest over you eventually. Men can share
anything but love of a woman. Should, for one reason or another, you pass again into his hands, I would,
were I you, rest there content. In many ways, you two are a more likely match. And one could do worse
than Nemar.”
     I found my vision badly blurred, and I pulled up my knees and rested my head upon them.
     “I am not doing this right,” he muttered, sud-denly standing. He put his hand upon my head, and I
leaned against him, my face pressed to his leg. “I am no provider,” he said in a whisper. “Behind me I left
four women, three children, and a grandchild whose sex I do not even know. Before me is only conflict.
And someday, death at a stronger hand. And I was content with that, until you came here. I am no longer
content.” I watched my tears run down his thigh, over a bare area worn free of hair.
     He pulled my arms from about his leg and knelt down to take my shaking shoulders in his hands.
     “You must understand. It—is not a good thing, when a man who wields death comes to hold his life
dear. It weakens. In my weakness, I fear for you.” He sought to quiet me, but I would not be quieted for
a long while. When my convulsions ceased, he still held me, whispering things he had only before said to
me in the heat of passion.
     And then he asked me about the cloak. I told him all that he wanted to know about it, and about
Estrazi and Raet, though it discomfited me to do so.
     At the end of it, I begged him excuse me, that I might walk awhile alone in the corridors, until I found
myself eased.
     He went to the door and slid aside the panel and played with it. The door, so instructed, opened. He
kissed me lightly upon the forehead. I walked past him, wordless.
     After a time, wandering aimlessly, I came upon Chayin, who was alone. His expression told me how
I must look—red-eyed and swollen-faced and bedraggled. He leaned his arm upon the wall, be-tween
two of the torches that lit the passage.
     “Do you have your pouch?” I asked him, after enduring his wordless scrutiny. I could not have
passed by him; he commanded the corridor.
     “He does not want you to have it.” His face seemed dark after Sereth’s, in the flamelight. But he got
it out and tossed it to me.
     I tasted uris, the first time since I had awakened. It was an intensely pleasurable experience. My
nerves steadied, my anguish receded. I did not toss it to him, but brought it, and handed it back. He
looked down into my face; his fingers traced the tracks of my tears down my cheek.
     “He is not as you expected him to be, is he?” he said, gentle.
     I shook my head against the tears that again threatened my sight.
     Chayin drew me to him and held me. I sensed him exploring my memories, but did not move to stop
him. “It is almost over,” he said to me. “You can be strong this little while longer. Soon, all will be very
simple. The new time brings with it a different balance. I have thrown the yris-tera again. Everything, it
seems, has a solution.” He put me back from him. How quickly he had grown strong, freed of his
affliction.
     “It does not seem that way to me.” I sighed.
     “Only because you are so busy appearing less than you are.” His eyes held dark concern for me.
“The ending of that, too, comes fast upon us.”
     “I must get back,” I said, to extricate myself.
     “Go, then.” He flashed his bright smile. “Do not worry,” he called after me. “When you need me, you
will not have to call.”

VII. The Liaison First
     It was shadowed and musty in the undertunnels, with only a scant bowl of light here and there above
the central channel, which ran unending to the limits of sight. Off it branched other tunnels, strings of light,
six of them. A gray place it was, and full of ghosts. This was Day-Keepers’ domain, or should have
been. The glassy gray floor was slippery under my booted feet. I turned to watch Sereth, in an alcove set
into the tunnel wall. Chayin, garbed as I in the weapon-concealing brown leath-ers we had worn from
Frullo jer, peered over Sereth’s shoulder. I moved my left leg, heard a click, and bent down to set the
razor-moons better in their sheaths. Lalen, leaning, insolent but alert, against the smooth glassy wall,
watched me. He, as Sereth, wore circlet armor, and .each of us bore weapons enough for three. I hoped
we would not need them all.
     “But where are we going?” I had asked him, for I had been excluded from all their final planning.
     “To pay Dellin a visit,” Sereth had answered. It was Amarsa second second. Wiraal could not
possi-bly reach Astria by threx before second sixth.
     I shook my head in wonder at the Ebvrasea’s inscrutability. A sort of grating sound bounced around
the undertunnel, and a section of the chan-nel flooring withdrew into itself, revealing another level
beneath. Up from those depths came a silver oblong shape, most reminiscent of a M’ksakkan hover.
When three-quarters of its rounded, window-less bulk was above the surface upon which we stood, it
ceased rising. I heard the metal screech again, as the channel floor closed itself up.
     Sereth laughed softly, and I glanced over my shoulder to see him darken the alcove. As he stepped
from it, it closed behind him, leaving no sign that anything other than featureless gray wall had ever been
there. He touched a small box in his hand, and there was a humming sound.
     Lalen, with a soft exclamation, pushed himself away from the wall. Chayin, at Sereth’s right, came
and turned me by the shoulders. I knew what I would see. Almost, I resisted. Then I let him turn me. The
oblong metal sphere lay open to us, inviting. It looked, from where I stood upon the platform, much like
the keeps above our heads.
     Lalen came up behind me, peering over our shoulders. He, too, felt uneasy here.
     “Come, you two,” said Sereth indulgently. “It is perfectly safe. Certainly safer than any threx.”
     So [let him coax me to jump across that yawn-ing gap, a full two hands’ widths, and onto the resilient
loam-colored flooring of the oblong’s interior.
     When we were, all three, within, Sereth followed and touched again the lighted box he held in his
palm. A tremor came up through my boots. We were moving. I was glad that I could not see the tunnel,
around me, speed by. Sereth put the tiny box in his pocket-belt. Then he motioned Chayin to him. I eyed
the seats circling the wall.
     “I want you to know how to guide it, in case,” I heard him say, as Chayin bent his head over a panel
Sereth’s knowing fingers exposed to view.
     I went and watched also, that I might keep my mind off the tons of mountain over us. When I knew I
could, if need be, make the craft obey me, I went and tried a seat. I found, as had Lalen, who lounged
stretched out upon the floor, that those seats were made for smaller, shorter frames than even my own.
Formed, as they were, for diminu-tive rears and child-length legs, I could not find comfort in their
support. I, also, sat upon the floor, taking from my belt the slitsa-covered ors Chayin had given me. I saw
that he had folded back the tips of certain pages. By the time I had read each indicated page and
smoothed back all the markers, we were there.
     “Here we are,” said Sereth, the first words he had spoken in efiths. Somehow none of us found it
easy to speak, encased in our ancestors’ legacy.
     “Where is here?” I asked, slipping the book in my pouch. I wonder what they would think, those
forgotten ones, of the use to which we turned their handiwork.
     In answer, Sereth, disdaining his tiny box, played upon the craft’s panel. The wall upon my left slid
aside, although I was sure we had entered from the right. Thusly exposed was a tunnel the double of the
one we had left neras behind; gray and glassy and featureless.
     “Hurry!” Sereth ordered.
     Chayin went first, and turned when he stood upon the platform. The space between platform and
craft was a good stride across. Sereth pushed me gently toward Chayin, who extended his arm to me,
and I jumped it. Then Lalen crossed over, giving the chasm no notice.
     Sereth leaped through as the wall of the craft started closing. Even as his feet hit the platform, the
craft began to sink beneath the channel, and when it was gone, the channel flooring, soundless here,
slipped into place leaving no visible seam.
     We stood there, in that pressing silence, regard-ing each other. Our breathing seemed very loud in
that emptiness.
     ‘‘Where,” I asked, are we?”
     “Let us go see. I put us within a nera or two of the Liaison First’s, but we may be farther.” Sereth
put his hand upon the wall, carefully judging the level, and walked toward his right. Chayin mimed him. I
stood watching until Lalen’s hand urged me to follow. I turned and glared at him, but I went, after I
shook his grip from my arm.
     “Here,” said Sereth when we had walked per-haps a half-nera along that gray same-seeming
platform, and a portion of the wall fell back, re-vealing recurved stairs of well-worn archite. A pau-city of
ceiling globes gave the stairwell shadowy menace.
     When we were all through the hidden door and stood upon the stairs, Sereth turned to Chayin.
     “Close it,” he suggested. Chayin felt along the right-hand side of the door. It slid shut with not even a
scrape, and semidarkness closed upon us. My ears felt as if I had changed altitude too rapidly. I
swallowed, and waited for my eyes to adjust.
     “Move,” hissed Lalen, ever behind me. I sighed and followed Chayin and Sereth, taking those
shal-low stairs two at a time.
     It was a very long and winding stairwell. I climbed behind them so long there was nothing in the
universe but stairs, and the effort of raising one’s aching thighs to take them. So hypnotized did I become
that I crashed into Chayin and Sereth where they had stopped at the stair’s head, as I stumbled for a stair
that did not exist.
     “Quiet!” Sereth hissed. Chayin’s arm steadied me where I straddled two steps, for there was no
room upon the top one.
     Sereth caused that wall, also, to move aside. The light of sun’s setting upon the Astrian plain flushed
redly over us, spilling down the stairs behind. The sight of it caused me to gasp. We were, truly, upon
those plains where I was raised.
     I pushed forward between them.
     “Look you, Sereth, Chayin.” And I pointed southeast, where Astria sparked and gleamed upon the
horizon, her towers arcing prisms into the blaz-ing sky. I stepped out upon the ledge, which had kept its
secret so well from me. I had played upon this hill, among these boulders, as a child. I had roamed here,
often, with Santh.
     “No wonder one never sees a Day-Keeper upon his way anywhere,” I breathed.
     Chayin laughed. “Except Hael,” he amended. “Will they not know we have used their ferry?” I asked
Sereth.
     “I doubt it. They do not count that craft among theirs. Nor, to my knowledge, have they used those
tunnels I took.” He looked around. “Move,” he said to Lalen.
     Lalen moved, and Sereth showed us all how to control the stone door—by a sensor under a stone
panel that slid to a special touch only. He bade us each try until we had made the door obey us. By then
the light was almost gone from the sky.
     “Is that the Liaison First’s?” he asked me, point-ing to the, distant squat structure just taking light for
the evening. It hulked there, all star-steel ugliness.
     “Yes,” I said, remembering how miserable I had been within it, at M’lennin’s hands. “Are we going
to walk right in?” I queried him.
     “Right in,” he affirmed.
     Chayin stretched. The uritheria medallion glinted balefully at me from his chest. He had his cloak
thrown back, rubbing that old shoulder wound that often pained him. “Let us start, then. I would walk out
this stiffness.”
     We started. I judged it to be seven neras, over easy ground. The moon, third quarter and failing, was
not yet risen when we stopped, so close we could see the outer court gate and the red-glowing
palm-lock within. We shared a bladder of water, ate some pounded denter. The men played with their
gear.
     “Just walk right in?” I asked.
     “Get us through the gates, yes.”
     “There is manual override, I said thoughtfully. “Why would he override a welcome visitor?”
Sereth.said.
     That was true; the keep would announce me as one in its data bank. No alert. Dellin might not even
bother to monitor the door at all. M’lennin had often not bothered.
     Sereth, Chayin, and Lalen donned the soft-capped Parset masks they had brought.
     “Just let him see you,” said Sereth. “Once he sees you, he will have no thought of us. Remember, you
are surprising him. It is likely he does not know you are on the planet.”
     I smiled, and as we had agreed, I unsheathed the knife Sereth had given me and took first blood with
it upon my own arm. I winced at my hand’s work. The scratch, long and just deep enough, bled
copiously. I shook some of the blood upon my clothing as it ran down my arm onto my hand.
     “Let us go. I could bleed to death.” And .I walked beside them until we were close to sensor range,
at which time Sereth and Chayin made as if to sup-port me, and we lurched hurriedly along, Lalen
guarding the rear with nervous strokes.
     “If this does not work,” I whispered, “what will we do? What if he has guests? What if he is not
here?”
     “Be silent. Look hurt. Stagger,” ordered Sereth.
     Then the sensors had us, and we were all silent. The lights in the outer court rose brighter. We had
been announced. I slapped with palm-lock, and the door slid aside. We clattered up the three steps, and
as the door slid soundless closed behind us, I heard a commotion. Chayin drew his blade. I reached into
my boot as Dellin careened around the corner, two men behind him. I threw the two razor-moons, one to
Dellin’s right and one to his left. He was half-dressed, unarmed. One man screamed. Someone grabbed
my shoulder, and I was upon the floor, behind Chayin and Sereth, with Lalen straddling me, blade ready.
     “Estri! What?” I saw him understand, stop dead, raise his hands and clasp them above his head. One
of the two Slayers was doubled over, the razor-moon deep in his gut. I wondered how I could have
missed the second man, who held his sword wavering, crouched upon the landing leading back into the
reception hall.
     “Put it down,” I heard Sereth say. The man looked around, turned, sprinted up the steps, down the
corridor. Chayin leaped after him, scooping the razor-moon from where it lay in the passage. Moments
later, I heard a scream.
     Through Sereth’s legs I saw Dellin eye the wounded, groaning Slayer’s sword.
     “Let me go,” I begged Lalen, who still stood over me. He wrapped his free hand in my hair. “Pick it
up, Dellin,” invited Sereth.
     “You will kill me.”
     “Not immediately. Pick it up, Slayer.” And Dellin did. Chayin appeared at the top of the stairs, his
arms crossed over his chest, and squatted down to watch.
     Dellin hefted the blade, slick with its owner’s blood, and took a step toward Sereth. Sereth’s blade
flashed an instant after Dellin’s attacking stroke. The sword fell from Dellin’s grasp and skit-tered across
the star-steel floor. Dellin clutched his. hand against him, staring at the offending weapon, unbelieving.
     “Try again,” Sereth suggested diffidently. “We all have our off days.”
     I leaned forward, but Lalen pulled me back by the hair.
     This time Dellin grabbed up the blade and lunged with it in both hands at Sereth, holding the sword as
a spear. Sereth simply was not there, but beside him. The Ebvrasea’s sword whickered through the air,
and Dellin’s blade skittered almost into my hands. Dellin went to his knees, and Sereth neatly knocked
him senseless with his weapon’s hilt.
     He stood over the Liaison a moment, then reached in his pocket-belt and manacled Dellin’s large
wrists behind him with heavy Nemarsi wristlets. That three-linked style is unmistakable to any who has
ever worn those obdurate steel bands.
     I found myself rubbing the small bones of my own wrists, remembering the sores steel chafes upon
them. Dellin’s black-haired head lay still. I recollected another time I had seen Sereth knock a man’s
blade from his hand upon the first stroke. I started to get to my feet but Lalen wound his grip tighter, in
my hair.
     Sereth was bending over the wounded man, his booted feet in a pool of blood. He pulled the
razor-moon from the Slayer’s middle and turned away. He shook his head.
     “Your turn,” he said to Lalen, indicating the badly wounded man. “I will watch her.”
     I went to Sereth and hid my head against his chest while Lalen dispatched the man I had mor-tally
wounded. I had to step over Dellin’s uncon-scious body to do so.
     “Next time,” said Sereth, “you will dispatch your own wounded.” He pushed, me away from him and
bent to Dellin, the gory razor-moon still in his hand, wiping it clean upon the unconscious Liai-son’s
clothing.
     “That is formal garb,” I remarked, looking at Dellin, his hands behind his back, in his black breech
with the gold banding, his white tunic col-ored with the fallen Slayer’s blood. Dellin had gained weight
since I had last seen him. His form, always carrying too much muscle for my taste, had that unhealthy
softness about it of a man just running to fat.
     Sereth handed me the razor-moon, and a shadow fell across us, where we knelt over Dellin on the
star steel. Chayin loomed there, holding the second razor-moon.
     “Perhaps we should wake him, and find out where he was going. None of them, it seems, are going
to get there, and my man has lost the ability to answer.” Chayin had that kill-smile upon him.
     Sereth squinted up at him. He nodded.
     “First, we must make sure that we have no visitors. Estri, can that be done?”
     “Third door on your left, around that corner. When last I was here, the room was blue. From there
you may program the doors as you wish.”
     “Come do it. I am not familiar with M’ksakkan devices. Lalen! Bring the Liaison.” And he did, with
some difficulty, for Dellin was almost as, large as he.
     So we came to stand in that blue room, which had been M’lennin’s most private quarters.
     Lalen, with a grunt of relief, dropped’ Dellin’s deadweight to the irridescent Torth pelts. Chayin’s
eyes roamed the keep, impressed with all the off-world opulence. Still did the strung-ruby dra-peries
from the looms of Pliatus, half a galaxy away, adorn those M’ksakkan crystal windows. Still did the
wistwa desk, carved from the creamy bones of the great sea beast of Oguast, dominate the room. Dellin
had not changed a thing. Even M’len-nin’s ragony pipes sat in their display rack upon the desk’s top.
     I went to the room’s one blank wall and slid it back, exposing the master board that ruled the
Liaison’s keep.
     I showed its workings to Sereth, who was quick to learn. I remembered the first time I had seen that
blinking plethora of lights and switches. I
     showed him the patch bay, and how it could be used to route any function of any input module, and
the logic of the system was not lost upon him. Truly, the board had only five capabilities:
com-munications, in-house and out, programmable func-tion of its automated services, duplication of
in-serted material, and visual display. But each function had widely variable parameters, and the
combinations of effects available neared the infinite.
     By the time Sereth had wiped from the data bank all entry prints and fed our own into it, the , Liaison
First was groaning softly.
     I heard the clink of his manacled wrists as they discovered their bonds. He moaned again, and would
have rolled to his back, but Lalen’s foot thundered audibly against Dellin’s kidneys. He made a tiny
mewling sound and turned his head toward us.
     “Lie still, M’ksakkan,” Lalen commanded. The Liaison’s face was beaded with sweat.
     Chayin, disdaining the steel and sueded chairs, crossed his legs under him upon the Torth pelts, his
knees near Dellin’s head.
     “Would you like to sit up?” he said pleasantly to our captive. Sereth stepped back from the board,
taking from his pouch a length of braided leather.
     Dellin did not answer.
     I went and knelt beside Chayin, where the Liai-son could see me.
     “Do what they say,” I advised him gently. His gray eyes sought mine, accusing. He was breath-ing
heavily, and I almost reached out to touch him. Instead, I twisted my hands together in my lap. This man,
whom once I thought I loved, had betrayed us.
     “Estri,” he whispered, “help me.” Sereth, Lalen, and Chayin removed their masks.
     “I will do what I can,” I said softly, leaning forward. I saw Sereth turn his face away, to hide the smile
upon it. “Obey them, and perhaps you will live.”
     “Sit up,” Chayin said again, and this time his tone was not gentle.
     As Dellin struggled to get his legs under him, Lalen leaned down from behind and twisted his fingers
in Dellin’s black hair, pulling him savagely up upon his knees. Sereth knelt behind him and looped the
leather around each ankle hi turn, threading it, before he tied the ends together, be-tween the manacles’
middle link. Dellin sat upon his heels, most effectively restrained.
     “Let him go,” Sereth commanded, and Lalen released his grip in the Liaison’s hair.
     Sereth walked around his prisoner once, slowly. His arm flashed down twice, ripping first tunic, then
breech from him. The sound of the material tearing was loud in the silence. Dellin, naked, trem-bled
visibly. Sereth stared at him, hands upon his hips.
     “What do you want from me?” Dellin begged.
     “Some answers. If they suit me, then I might allow you to serve me. If your service pleases me, we
will see about the rest,” Sereth said, very low.
     “Anything,” the Liaison First whimpered. ‘Estri, tell them. You know me. I will do anything!” He
pleaded. I said nothing. It is discomforting to me to see a man grovel.
     Chayin laughed his harshest laugh. Lalen squat-ted down where Dellin could see him, crossing his
massive arms. Sereth took out his knife and cleaned his nails.
     “Sereth, please!” His eyes were desperate. “I did not mean—’
     “Who were those men? Where were you bound?” Chayin snapped.
     “Gerin and Faer, of the hostel. They ... stay with me. We were going to dinner, with Celendra, in the
Well.” The words tumbled from his mouth, so anxious was he to please. I wondered how I could have
ever felt anything for him.
     Sereth nodded.
     “You will call Celendra. Tell her that you and your boys”—his voice snapped like a huija—“have
been, detained.” Dellin bobbled his head in acqui-escence. The sweat ran in streams down his corded
neck.
     “What could keep the three of you here, inacces-sible, for a set’s time?” he demanded.
     “I do not know,” said Dellin, after a silence, fearfully.
     “Think of something,” Chayin advised, shifting his, dark bulk enough to draw his gol-knife, “or I will
feed you your own eyeballs, one at a time. If by then you have no answer, I might find more work for my
blade. There are many parts of a man that may be removed.” He eyed Dellin’s maleness suggestively.
      The color drained from Dellin’s face. He called upon the gods of his mother, just before Lalen’s blow
bent him double, gasping. I saw the tears in his eyes, turned my head away.
      “Have you a thought?” queried Chayin.
      Dellin had a thought.
      “Contagion,” he moaned. “Sometimes ... hot experimental medicines ... come through here ... I could
call her, tell her that. Tell her we are ill, and must stay isolated until the keep cleans itself and the sickness
passes out of us.”
      Chayin got up upon one knee and took Dellin by the hair. Lalen, behind, held him steady as he
writhed in terror. Sereth merely watched, until the touch of Chayin’s gol-knife upon the Liaison’s cheek
tore a scream of terror from his throat.
      “Hold,” said Sereth. “I cannot believe,” he said softly, that such as you can wear the black chain.”
And with that he bent and cut from Dellin the
      Slayer’s chain, and threw it across the room. Dellin, held immobile, could only tremble.
      “I will not free your hands. Call her. And take care she suspects nothing.”
      I saw cunning flicker upon Dellin’s face.
      “You must do it from the desk communicator, else she will see us also,” I said, and his feral look was
replaced by hopelessness.
      Lalen unbound Dellin’s feet, and pushed him, stumbling, to the steel and sueded chair behind the
wistwa desk. There he rebound the Liaison’s feet to the chair’s legs.
      Sereth motioned to me, and I readied the small-screened desk communicator. Dellin had to give me
the call codes; when I ruled in Astria, there was not one machine in the Well.
      I motioned the men back from him, that they not be caught in the wide-angle viewer. Facing Dellin,
behind the desk, I leaned over and punched up Well Astria. As I did so, my queasy stomach was settled
by the hatred rising in me. Call cOdes for Astria, had they? Not for long!
      I jerked my hand back, out. of sight, as the red light upon the tiny console came on.
      “Celendra!” snapped Dellin, his face anguished, to someone we could not see from behind the
screen.
      And then I heard her voice, soft velvet, as I had remembered it. In my mind I could see her, dusk
upon midnight, imposing. She was not pleased at Dellin’s message. Her voice grew petulant, and she
demanded to know what ailed him, and how he dared, with his clumsiness, interfere with her plans. For a
moment I thought she might sense us. Sereth raised his eyes from nails, and his gol-knife to, a ready
position. Dellin found art enough in him to placate her. His obsequiousness sickened me. Finally, with a
vengeful curse upon his manhood, Celendra broke the link from where she sat in Astria.
      I let out the breath I had been holding and slapped the off switch.
      Chayin chuckled in satisfaction. Even Sereth smiled. Dellin did not, but slumped in the chair,
despondent.
      “What,” asked Chayin, throwing one leg over the desk, “did she mean when she asked you if her will
had been done?”
      Slowly, miserably, Dellin raised his head. His face was contorted. He licked his lips.
      “If I tell you that, you will surely kill me,” he rasped.
      “Iris not a question,” explained Chayin patiently, “of whether or not we kill you. If I were you, I
would crave death. It is merely a matter of how long it will take you to die.” And he leaned for-ward until
he peered into Dellin’s face. “In Nemar, we can keep a man alive a long time. Be assured that you will
tell us everything. In fact, you will beg to do so. When you have left no eyes with which to see, no tongue
with which to speak, no fingers with which to hold a writing instrument, you will take that instrument in
your teeth, to write for us that which we would know. If you still have mind by that time. Do not doubt
me, M’ksak-kan, I have had a great deal of practice.”
      Dellin closed his gray eyes, and his lips moved silently. I turned away from the sight of him, my own
hands trembling as I put them to my head to cover my ears.
      Sereth watched me coldly. His lips twitched, and he held out his hand to me. I took it in my icy,
sweat-drenched grip, and leaned faint against him.
      “Perhaps,” he said in my ear, “you are not as fierce as you thought.”
      “Let me go and shower.”
      “No.” His tone let me know appeal was useless. I put my cheek against his shoulder.
      “It is one thing,” I whispered, “to kill an enemy.
      Have pity. I once couched him. I cannot stand and watch this!”
      “Would you rather help? It would give you some-thing to do.”
      I turned and ran from him, from Chayin and Lalen and Dellin, whom I once loved. I ran, and the
doors made way for me. Into my old keep I stumbled, and through it, until I stood shaking behind the
washroom door. Only Sereth’s laughter had followed me. I sank down upon the cool tiles, sickened.
      When I could, I got up from the floor and stripped. Then I let the hot needle spray calm me, leaning
against the shower wall a long time.
      Dripping puddles upon the tile, I combed the snarls from my hair very slowly, seeking the simple,
thoughtless labor of working the strands free, one by one. It hung smooth and snarlless over my hips,
raining drops upon my thighs, when Chayin at last came to fetch me.
      The door slid aside, obedient to his identity, Dark and savage he seemed, framed against that room
full of star things. It came to me, looking at him, that he was doubtless capable of doing just what he had
threatened to Dellin, or to any who opposed him. He had grown strong since I lifted his affliction from
him. It had been so simple. He scrutinized me slowly, leaning in the doorway.
      I put down the comb, dressing wordlessly, turn-ing away on the pretext of applying salve to my
self-inflicted wound. Chayin, cruel, powerful, crouched upon the moment in my sensing. He would take
what he could, when his time was right. He caught me there, searching the source of his strength. I
withdrew as he moved toward me; backed away until I could back no farther. The wind from the abyss
pebbled my skin.
      “I did not know you had that skill.” My voice trembled. He pressed me back against the wall.
      “What were you seeking?” He ran his hands down my face, touching my throat.
      “Is he dead?” I asked faintly.
      “Not yet. He is less a coward than he first appeared. Sereth wants you there; he feels your presence
might aid us. But that is not what you sought in me.” His hands closed about my throat, I found it
necessary to raise my head. His thumb pressed painfully into the hollow below my ear.
      “If you ask, I might tell you. Do not seek me that way again.”
      I gasped his name. His grip loosened. The mem-branes snapped once, back and forth, across his
dark eyes.
      I did not ask. I did not have to. The veil served him; he saw and was not afraid.
      “Sereth wants me there,” I reminded him, He smiled, mirthless kill-smile.
      “He will wait this little while longer.” I serviced him while he leaned back against the wall, silent. It
was a thing of moments, of a man’s simple use of that which is available to him.
      I shivered, upon the tiles, and shook out my hair, which still dripped. He arranged himself in his
breech, regarding me oddly.
      “Have you read much in the ors?” The uritheria glared at me, golden, hostile.
      “Only that little, while we were in the undertun-nels,” I replied.
      “You should read it.” He crossed his arms, and the tattoos upon them slithered.
      “What did Dellin tell you?”
      “Not what we wanted to know. Yet.” And he pushed himself from the wall, turned, and strode down
the hall, without waiting to see if I would follow.
      I ran and caught him. He gave me a sidelong glance. The whites of his eyes gleamed.
      “Chayin ...” I touched his arm, that which bore the winged slitsa wound around a Parset blade. “Let
me have your pouch.”
      “He does not want you to have it. He is right. You grow dependent.”
      “You use it!” I flared.
      “I know how to judge its use! I said no, once ...” He stopped. We were before M’lennin’s quarters,
where Sereth held the Liaison First.
     “This is no arbitrary decision upon my part,” he said. “You strain your body with your mind’s
demands as it is. Can you not get the help you need from the helsar’s teachings, from your own hesting?”
     “There is no one truth, no one hesting. A num-ber of powerful minds have invested in the point of
time we approach. I am surely not the strongest. The strain upon the moment is fantastic, the result, to
me, unknowable. I doubt if any know it. Even Estrazi, who made this whole world, cannot fore-see
everything that occurs upon it.”
     “The ors knows,” he said positively.
     “Does it know whether or, not I will live? I see only so far, and then there is nothing.” And I spoke
my fear for the first time aloud.
     It knows,” he said “But perhaps it is kinder if your mind holds certain things from you. You will not
die in this battle.” And he pushed me toward the door, which opened obediently.
     I saw Dellin.
     He was slumped over, still—secured to the chair, which the men had moved back from the desk.
There was no blood upon him; he.was unconscious. Sereth lounged upon the wistwa desktop, one leg
thrown over its creamy expanse. He twisted around as we entered, and again I was struck by the ani-mal
ease of him.
     “It took you long enough,” he said “Come here!” I went to him, and he put his hands upon my arms.
     “Perhaps you can get him to tell you what he will not tell us.”
     “Let him be. All that is left to any of us is to do what the time demands. Celendra can get no help
against what will be, any more than you or I.”
     “You cannot know that.” Sereth’s grip tightened upon me. “I cannot make decisions on the basis of
riddles. Do what I say!”
     Anger rose in me, born of Chayin’s offhand use, slapped into life by Sereth’s contempt. “I will, but it
is time wasted. You have done enough to him. He cannot harm you; what he knows cannot harm you.
Whatever seeds he and Celendra have planted will not bear fruit.”
     “I must know what Celendra meant, and why he keeps back that knowledge from us.”
     “Have Chayin ask the ors. Either you believe me, or you do not. In the end, it will be the same.” And
I jerked my arms from his grasp and went to DeIlin.
     I took his black-haired head in my hands and lifted the deadweight of it. He breathed unevenly.
Kneeling, I brought his face, slippery with sweat, close to mine. I could see the swelling and darken-ing
of their work upon him.
     “Dellin,” I called him softly. Then again. I could feel him give up his pretense, his refuge. He opened
his eyes, and I saw suddenly the trapped animal, who would gnaw its own leg off if it could. But even that
had been denied him. It took some time for him to know me.
     His eyes focused, and his swollen lips moved, I asked for water, and Sereth sent Lalen, all this time
squatting in the corner, to fetch it. When he had done so, I gave him drink. He winced. There was a lot of
blood in his mouth, and more when he coughed.
     He squinted at me, as if from some great distance. “What is it?” I whispered to him. “Tell me. I
     will not let them hurt you again.” I wondered if he knew that they would not have to hurt him again. I
brushed my hand over his neck, up against his ears, and found my fingers, when they came away, dark
with his blood. Then I knew that he did know. He was loath to die here upon Silistra, so far from all he
loved. And I saw us as he did, barbarians all. What brought an ache inside me was his confusion. He did
not understand. And he wanted desperately to understand for what he was dying. I had, for him, no
answer.
     “Estri,” he mumbled through his broken mouth, “help me. I hurt.” A spasm of coughing wracked him.
I closed my eyes and held his head against my breast, and his injuries came clear to my sensing. Without
thought, I sent what I could of strength and healing to him; what small skills I had did their work. I
demanded more.
     Dellin raised his head, and his gray eyes were clearer.
     “I will not let them hurt you,” I promised, help-ing him as he tried to straighten up. His eyes flickered
from Sereth, to Chayin, to Lalen against the far wall. He took a breath that rasped and gurgled in his
chest.
     “Let them say it.” He formed the words slowly, with great effort.
     “Sereth, tell him.”
     He did not, but slid off the desk, putting bis arm around Chayin’s shoulders. They spoke in low
tones, and finally both came to stand before Dellin’s chair.
     “If you tell us, and cooperate, we will let you live. What has been done can sometimes be un-done.”
His hands were upon his hips, voice flat, cold. ‘You have my word. I could use you, in case Celendra
has to call you again. We will leave you here when we leave. You will, of course, be bound, but someone
will find you eventually. That,” he said, tossing his head, “is the best offer I am will-ing to make.”
     Dellin stared at them a time; then he nodded, wincing at the pain of movement.
     “Celendra has asked,” he said slowly, “for cer-tain aid; M’ksakka sends it.” He stopped, fearful.
“Two warships, that she may revenge herself upon her father’s murderer.” He coughed. “It is
compli-cated. I could try to stop it.” He slumped in the chair, helpless, waiting.
     I wondered if Dellin knew that very man stood before him, and decided he did not. Chayin’s face
was emotionless. Upon Sereth I saw another ex-pression, as if he had expected this, and had been
upheld.
     “When you feel well enough,” the Ebvrasea said, his voice a knife upon silk, “we will see that you
have a chance to call them. Think upon what you would say.”
     Dellin nodded, and a spasm of coughing wracked him once more. Chayin took the uris pouch from
his belt and handed it to me. I recollected, as I unstoppered it and poured a huge amount down Dellin ‘s
throat, how much it had strengthened me in the desert. I contrived to spill some upon my hand as I
passed it back. Chayin saw, but only smiled. I licked my fingers, that place between thumb and first, and
was myself greatly strength-ened.
     “Estri!” Chayin’s voice snapped. I jumped to my feet, guilty. “I am hungry. It must be past time for a
meal.” Only then did I realize that he could not read the clocks here, all Bipedal Standard. I al-most
laughed in relief that he would not chastise me.
     And we left Dellin there, with Lalen to guard him, and went into the Liaison’s kitchen. There I fed
them both by hand, disdaining the menial ro-bot blinking ready in its alcove. The thought came to me that
I should have built a fire in the midst of the M’ksakkan marble, if I were truly as Dellin saw me. While I
worked scavenging a meal from Dellin’s stores, I set my healing upon my own wound, to test my skill.
     When I handed Sereth and Chayin their plates of parr and narne, and served them the excellent kifra
Dellin stocked, the scab, dried and white-edged, began to curl up from my skin. I scratched it, for it
itched me. The scab came away, revealing new copper skin underneath, hardly darker than elsewhere
upon my sun-bronzed arm. I smiled to myself, as I took two of the plates back to Lalen and our captive.
     Lalen took his meal from me, surly and taciturn. He set the plate upon the wistwa desk and fell upon
the contents with relish.
     “I will not feed him. I am no nursemaid,” he said when I set down the second plate and turned to
leave. “Nor will I release him to feed himself.”
     So I fed him, as best I could. It was not easy for him to eat even the softer foods I had intentionally
brought. He did, however, drink the goblet of kifra down to the last drop. Over it his eyes met mine;
under those frank straight brows of his they seemed steadied. He sat straighter, his spasms had left him,
and the blood upon his face had clotted. Lalen, finished with his plate, watched us, glowering.
     “You will five.” I said my first words to him as I rose to leave.
     “Do not talk to him,” Lalen snapped.
     And I turned and left, silent, lest Lalen take out upon Dellin any temper I aroused in him.
     As I reentered the kitchen, muted, angry voices greeted me. Sereth leaned against the steel oven.
     “We have no option. We must wait and see what Celendra does. She will keep Dellin informed, you
can be sure. I would not move from here until she screams for help. When we hear that Wiraal’s men
have arrived; we will leave here, and not sooner.”
     “But the M’ksakkans—”
     “What can you do? Call a Day-Keeper and tell him that while beating information out of a Liai-son
you have stumbled upon this unlikely plot? Think, man!”
      Chayin paced the floor, stalking he knew not what. He slammed his fist hard into the menial’s blinking
panel, killing it. Its machine’s breath poured from it, dark with death, bearing an acrid odor. Chayin
stared at it, then turned. He saw me.
      “There is nothing we can do,” he said to Sereth. “Nothing, at all.” His black eyes, far behind the veil,
pinned me still, my back pressed against the door. Then he looked away, at his hands in their tight fists.
He opened them, spread his long dark fingers. “It is just that I am not one to sit and wait. I will take the
watch of him with Lalen.” And he strode to the door, pushing past me as it opened for him.
      Sereth rose, too, and came toward me.
      “You should eat,” he said, and rather than dis-obey him, I ate.
      “Chayin said,” he remarked as he watched me pick at my food, “that you must have gained great
weapons in the helsar. He wonders why you do not share them with us.” His tone was only level. It was
his eyes that froze me, a chunk of denter halfway to my mouth. I had sensed Chayin’s testing. I put down
the food, pushed my plate away.
      “Could you stop me, as Raet once did?” he questioned. “Could you imprison me in my own body?”
      “Yes,” I whispered. “I could do that.”
      Sereth slid down into a chair. He brushed his hand across his eyes.
      “What else can you do?” he demanded.
      “A great deal, and very little. Do not make me show you. I crave this last normalcy, before all goes
once more insane. It is just a little to ask.”
      “What do you fear?”
      “Once I open to my strengths, what will I be? Whom may I find to talk with, to love? I would not be
so different, so alone, as I will surely come to be. Would you still want me, upon my sufferance?
Knowing that by whim I could reduce you to com-ponent atoms, would you rest easy in my arms?
Would any man?” I pushed away and rose, walk-ing to the man’s-height crystal window. Sereth was
silent.
      “Whatever weapons, the strength is in the wielder. Do you need no practice, no work upon these
skills?” he asked at length.
      “I save what I have for my moment of need. It could be that I am wrong to do so, but three days’
practice will not even the odds before the millen-nia Raet has had to hone his skills.”
      “Show me something,” Sereth insisted, watch-ing me from the chair. I shrugged, hopeless.
      “What if I tell you a thing? Celendra Swill not call until the evening of Wiraal’s arrival. She is angry.
She waits for Dellin to call her and apolo-gize. I turned to face him.
      “Show me something,” he repeated, implacable. I sighed and brushed my hair, now dry, from my
eyes.
      “Watch, then.” The menial robot was, dead as it was, only a junk heap of useless parts. I pointed to
it, then lowered my hand. The metal burst into heatless flame, fierce and bright. It was simply a matter of
creating an envelope around that form, an envelope of different natural laws, in which metal and glass and
rubber became unstable elements. When there was nothing in the alcove, I raised my hand again and
erased the pocket of alternate space I had created. It was, neatly done, for a first try. I sensed no
leakage. Sereth’s eyes upon me were a stranger’s.
      “And what else?”
      “Anything. Name it,” I said with a sinking feeling. “You say Celendra will not call. Make her call.”
Obedient to him, I closed my eyes to do so. “Wait!” he snapped. “I just wanted to know if you could.
Have you done such with me?”
      “No,” I whispered, agonized.
      “Chayin said he felt you in his mind, that you did things to him he does not fully understand. Is this
true?”
      I sank to my knees upon the M’ksakkan marble. “Yes.” I barely formed the word, wretched, staring
at the veins in the stone.
      “Get up! Come here!” I went to him, where he had risen. He stared down at me. “You want
normalcy? I will give you some. And we will see if the bonds I have upon you are strong enough. Go and
make yourself ready. I will come to you, when I choose.”
      I turned, mute, to obey him.
      “When I open that door, I would see you kneel-ing by the couch, suitably adorned.”
      I felt the flush upon my skin as the door made way for me.
      It was a long time before he came to me. Time enough for my knees to turn numb and cold. Long
enough for me to reflect upon what bonds he meant, and to learn that they were strong indeed.
      When he did come, he himself tested them upon me.
      “Please,” I begged him, my body arched, sweat-ing, under his hand.
      “Where are your formidable skills now? What are they?” he demanded sternly.
      “Nothing. They are nothing.” He touched me upon the belly, and I moaned and sought him, my lips
upon the inside of his thighs. I kissed him, bit gently, pleading, helpless, crell to him and my own body’s
needs.
      When it pleased him, he took, me, and I wept under his thrust.
      “Whatever else you are,” he said, crouched above me, wiping the sweat from his upper lip, “you are
still a woman.” And his hands would not let me rest. I tried to roll away, exhausted. His white teeth were
sharp and strong upon my breasts.
      “And do you know your bonds now, little crell?” He laughed low.
      I knew them. The gift of a night alone was not wasted, upon us. Those moments glow in my mind,
each rich with the savor that only life-risk can impart. Crell under my master’s hand, I was sud-denly
wealthy. Opulent is life, in the light of such freedom as comes with submission to a man who will accept
no less.
      I lay long after he slept, thinking. His arm thrown across my breasts, he dreamed and muttered in his
sleep. Sereth and I had pegged an evening of time together in that room I had fitted to my taste so long
ago as M’lennin’s couch-mate. How I had hated him. I had also first lain with Dellin here, upon this
couch made by Astria’s own master. Celendra, surely, must use this keep. I envisioned her, black and
supple, sinuous upon the silken covers that had been fashioned to my order. Then he awoke and chased
all thought of her from my mind.
      The next morning, Amarsa second third, Dellin sent his message to M’ksakka. Intra-, rather than
inter-space, it sped, as the M’ksakkan ships do in the great void. But such can be done only at cer-tain
points in the cosmos; the message would rise up and out, lasered, for more than a light-day before it
passed, instantaneous, around 160 light-years of space. We would not get an answer before
      Amarsa second sixth, when Wiraal was due in Astria with his jiasks.
      We waited. Chayin, desert stalker, strode the confines of Dellin’s keep. He paced and paced, and
drew ever more distant.
      Sereth, perhaps from his Slayer’s training, rested content. He waited for Celendra to call, patient,
sure. He watched Chayin. They worked their skills together, well-matched, that they might keep their
sword arms loose.
      Clouds drove the humor from Sereth’s eyes, as the days passed. Often he stretched his lean form
upon the floor in the room where Dellin was kept, smoking the Liaison’s donne in a. ragony pipe,
meditative. He would talk to, Dellin without ran-cor in those times, as if the two were together again in
Arlet, as if Dellin were not his prisoner, not beaten near to death, not bound to his chair. From Dellin,
Sereth extracted all that he wanted to know, while Chayin paced and snarled.
      Lalen came to Sereth once, where he lay there upon the iridescent Thrah pelts, and asked after his
blade gruffly, that he might have something to do with his hands. The blond-haired man had honed every
edge he owned in turn, until they would each slice a hair from the strand’s weight alone.
      Sereth, who never left such things to another, gave up his gear to Lalen.
      The hands crawled upon the M’ksakkan clocks. The B.F. date changed sluggishly. Celendra did not
call.
      Sereth brought Chayin to couch with us, that he might bridge the gap he felt growing between them.
At sun’s rising, Amarsa second fifth, I woke to Chayin’s arm upon me.
     “Get yourself elsewhere,” he whispered to me. “I would be with him a time alone.”
     Sereth’s stiffened form let me know he had heard. Once I had wakened him with a single word,
spo—
     ken in sleep. I leaned over him, kissing the nape of his neck before I rose. He made no move.
     The door closed soundless behind me. I stood alone in a corridor of angry memories. I wandered it
for a time, my eyes stinging, my face both dry and tingling from lack of sleep. My feet brought me to the
kitchen, and I drank rana until my eyelids would stay open of their own accord. It was second fifth.
Today she would call.
     I watched the sun’s rape of the night through the window. I sensed the nature of what concerned
Chayin. It was a private thing, between them. I did not seek to intrude further.
     By mid-meal, Celendra still had not called. I prepared food, brought it to Lalen and Dellin. I brought
also servings for Chayin and Sereth. Their denter cooled upon the plates, the blood and fat congealing on
the meat. I read the ors, smoked danne, stretched out upon those alien dead beast’s skins.
     Khys, I thought as I closed the book, might be better understood in another translation. I sighed and
put the Parset volume aside. The test of its augury came fast upon us.
     Dellin’s eyes were on me when I looked up. We had not spoken since I had assured him of his life.
Perhaps he, as I, felt there was nothing to say. Lalen had eaten, but he had not fed the prisoner.
     “Thank you,” said Dellin to me when I brought him the cold food and fed him, bite by bite.
     “Thank Sereth, that you live to eat,” I said icily. I heard the manacles upon his wrists clink.
     “Estri, please.”
     “I do not want to hear it,” I said, thrusting a large enough bite in his mouth to silence him. The door
slid aside. Lalen rose.
     Sereth wore the Shaper’s cloak upon his-shoul-ders. He had not done so upon the way here, but
wound it around under his leathers. He avoided my eyes. Whatever had passed between him and
Chayin, he was not at ease with it.
     Chayin walked to the desk, where their food lay, and touched the coldness with his finger. He also
had taken time to battle-dress. He even wore his high boots.
     “Doubtless, you can do better than this, Estri,” he said to me, giving the slab of meat a desultory
prod. Chayin was greatly eased. He even smiled.
     So I took the meal I had made them and threw it away, and made another. I served them, with
exaggerated crellishness, where they sat talking together, near to Dellin. They took no notice.
     When they had finished, Sereth went to the mas-ter board. He had just activated the visual display
when the call code sounded. He slapped the board quiescent and dived out of range as Chayin jerked
Dellin’s chair before the desk. Kneeling beneath the desktop, out of sight, Sereth drew his blade with one
hand, and reached up to activate the receiver with the other. Chayin stood upon my left, Lalen upon my
right, though I had not seen him cross the room.
     “How are you feeling?” purred Celendra’s voice, The light her image threw flickered across Dellin’s
half-healed face.
     “Better,” he managed.
     “You look terrible,” she said sharply.
     “I passed out in the hall. I will be fine,” His eyes watched a face we could not see. I saw him shiver.
Beneath the desktop, Sereth’s blade rested naked between Dellin’s bound legs. “What do you want?”
     “Just to see if you were ill. I see you are ill. Have you any word?”
     “No, croaked Dellin.
     “What?”
     “No word from them. But do not worry.”
     “That is easy for you to say,” Celendra snorted. “You see no more than your hand before your face.
     I want you to call me, tomorrow mid-meal. I have great unrest. Perhaps by then you will be well
enough to leave your couch.” And she broke the connection without even a tasa.
     Dellin slumped in his bonds, white-faced.
     “So”—Sereth laughed—“Celendra called him upon your schedule, Estri. To see how he was
feeling.” And his laughter infected Lalan and Chayin. I found myself smiling. The jiasks would get there
tomorrow, and we would be informed by Celendra of her exact reaction. We did not even have to wait
for her to call us. She had ordered Dellin to call her! Chayin hugged me against him. For a moment I was
eye-to-eye with the uritheria on his bicep. It leered at me. Then he let me go.
     Sereth went and again set up visual screening, that we might see any approaching us. The day was
exhausted before he turned away from it.
     “Let us take a walk,” he said stretching. “I am stiff from sitting.” He led me unresisting back down the
hall of marble, into the corridor of star steel, down the steps into the outer court. The extrava-gance of
Astrian dusk turned him as copper as I. I sniffed the air, sweet and clean after the keep’s alien odors. It
caressed the skin, told stories of the life it carried. I breathed summer sarla and name bloom, and the
pungent ripeness of, this fer-tile land whispered all around. As I watched, the constellations made their
stately entrance into the newborn night. Yellow criers took song, while swamp kephers kept the time and
a hundred species, waiting, hummed and buzzed and whistled.
     Sereth’s hand was cool and reassuring on my waist. My father’s cloak rustled upon his shoulders.
Through Mlennin’s fastidious gardens we circuited. The second time around the outer court, he pushed
me gently to the grass within a circular harinder brake. We lay there long, looking at the stars.
     And that was where Lalen, breathing heavily, found us.
     “Dellin speaks again with the woman. Chayin sent me for you.” He said this last to empty air; Sereth
was gone, running. Lalen reached down and lifted me like a small child and half-dragged me beside him.
He was, I reminded myself as I struggled to pace him and retain my arm, responsi-ble for me.
     “Let me go!” I demanded as I stumbled while he impelled me up the steps. “I warned you.” I sighed,
and caused his grip to drop from my arm. I walked up the stairs, and he made way for me. I smiled to
myself as he fell in beside me. His consternation was evident. He did not ask, and I did not en-lighten
him.
     “What, exactly, did she say, from the beginning?”
     Chayin recited it for us. Wiraal had arrived early. Celendra could do little else than serve them. The
significance of a visit by so many Parsets was not lost upon her. She demanded his aid, and he re-ferred
her to the Slayers, to her own Day-Keepers. She fumed. Dellin pointed out that he could not be
implicated in the disposal, out of hand, of twenty-two Parsets, at this moment. He suggested she bide her
time until the ships came. She snarled at him. Chayin’s dark face bore a huge grin as he dutifully repeated
every curse. In the end, Celendra had agreed. After all, Parsets are men, like any others, she had
acknowledged. With that profound statement, she had broken the link.
     Sereth was not pleased. Wiraal was too early to suit him. He knew Celendra. He had timed the
arrival of the jiasks in Astria with that of certain other sections of his total force.
     “It is too long between,” he said softly. “We will have to go in there now, take her, keep her there,
and quiet, until Jaheil and the tiasks arrive. I do not like it. I cannot give her enough time to figure things
out.” He slammed his hand upon the desk.
     “Chayin! That man of yours needs a lesson. ‘By’ is not the same as ‘on.’ If he were one of mine, I
would do without him.”

The Viable
    The woman, alone, posited upon the gold square of prime mover, on the board of catalysts.
    Though her legs tremble, she is supported by what comes to be between them.
    One who submits to the bidding of the First Weather is upheld by gale and breeze, and the
very mountains make haste to provide her a resting place upon their summits.
    The weak is surmounted by the strong, and thus comes to contain its strength.
    Only that which may be conceived can be done. It’ is necessary to prepare expectation
concomitant with the fruitfulness of the time.
    Adjuration: That which is born to fill a need is always strong enough, for the demands of the
time provide helpers as they are needed. The prin-ciple of replication is raised here to its purpose.
What profit to that force, if in its hour it quails and trembles? The seed when placed finger-deep in
warm loam, commences the duty for which the time has prepared it. Though it may tremble when
first it is buried in the earth, shut away from air and light, it knows its purpose. So must it be with
the Viable. The seed does not draw back from the cracking of shell or the putting forth of blind
shoots, lest it should lose them. The seed knows that to reach the light once again it must thrust
upward until it breaks the surface asunder, and that at that moment of success it will be other
than that which undertook the task. The seed does not fear the loss of its seedness, but recognizes
the transformation as its destiny and goes to meet its fate with confidence, for within it is the
conception of rebirth.
     —excerpted from Ors Yris-tera 285

VIII. Well Astria Revisited
     We stood knee-deep in the sewers that feed into the Litess. Above us was Well Astria herself, open,
vulnerable. She was a high-couch woman, not built to withstand siege. Below us were the undertunnels
through which we had come here, unobserved.
     We had left Dellin, bound and gagged, in his outer court. The Liaison’s keep we sealed. It might stay
sealed forever, as we had erased all entry prints From it, retroactive to our exit. The building had no
friends, and would open itself to no one. None would make use of the tools within, at least not for a long
time.
     Our makeshift plan was much changed. Chayin had taken a different route than we, and by now he
had surely bought his well token and reserved Celendra for this night, as Wiraal was supposed to do the
next evening. He would be moving among his men, in the common room, spreading new orders. If he had
found Celehdra, he would be, even now, with her in my own chamber, where the ceilings had been
muraled by the finest gol-etchers upon Silistra, and the sky came tinted through the translucent roof.
     I sighed, and wrinkled my nose, wishing I were Parset and could fold my nostrils against the smell.
     Asa child, I had not been bothered by the smell. These watery, phospher-mold-covered stone
con-duits had been my refuge, my secret world. I ran my hand along the stones, seekirig. One did not
waste gol upon sewers. I recalled the raft I had assembled here, piece by surreptitiously acquired piece,
on which I had poled my way through my fantasies when so young the sluggish water had been
waist-high upon me.
     We could probably have taken the stairs just behind us, and walked Astria’s back corridors
unobserved. I judged it between eighth and ninth bell, busiest enth of the evening in any Well. The girls
would be in the common room, bedecked, awaiting their patrons’ pleasure. The dining, drink, and drug
chambers would be filled. It was the choosing hour.
     Know you Astria? She is not as Arlet, where Liaisons’ and Day-Keepers’ school and Slayers’
hos-tel all exist within the outer walls. All that we need is brought to us from our dependent city, Port
Astrin, south from here, where the Litess meets the Embrodming Sea. Between Astria and the port, upon
the easterly banks of the Litess, lie the Day-Keepers’ school and the Slayers’ hostel, at a dis-tance of
some sixty and seventy neras, respectively.
     I did not take us up those stairs, which would have led into the couching keeps. My fingers found
what I sought at the level of my shoulder. I could barely make it out—the first stra rung of eighty, set into
the stone, limned faintly with moss.
     “Here,” I said, and my voice echoed back to me. Sereth’s hand touched the rung. I could feel
Lalen’s bulk, ever behind me. “At the top is a stra trap, which may be lifted. These crawlways exist only
in the older buildings. They are seldom used.”
     Sereth swung lightly up the first rungs. High above us, twelve floors, lay the Keepress’ chamber, in
the oldest and highest tower, which was once the whole Well. Now the Well curled around, her gleaming
towers much multiplied, encircling a nera of open ground, but still was the first business of Astria pleasure
and replication, carried on in this tower alone.
     We climbed. I counted the slippery rungs. Once I lost my foothold, and my heel struck Lalen’s head
as I hung by my hands’ grip. His fingers grabbed my ankle, steadied my weight, guided my foot back to
the rung. I pressed my face against the cool stone, thinking of the fifty-rung drop.
      When I had gained the seventy-first, Sereth lifted the trap. Light poured in through the opening,
blinding after enths in the mold-lit dark. There should have been no light there. I scrambled the remaining
rungs, disdaining caution.
      Sereth’s hand reached down. I took it, and crouched beside him in the crawlway, bright with strung
power globes and filled with cables like huge black Slitsas upon the got. I looked around in wonder.
Astria was much changed. Above me were pipes of stra and copper—the plumbing that had been once
the primary reason for these passages.
      Sereth must have read my face. He pulled me gently away from the trap as Lalen’s head ap-peared
in it. The two of them lowered it sound-lessly into place.
      thought that the Keepress might need her own exit.
      It was slow going. My knees hurt, and my palms stung. Lalen cursed continually the close walls that
abraded him. When we reached the passage landing, a small level space before a wall of amber gol, the
stra door set into it was locked tight from the inside.
      I sat between them, where they huddled upon the landing. The door was crouched-woman-sized; I
hoped Lalen could squeeze through it. We waited.
      After a time we heard voices beyond the wall. All that could be told from them was that one voice
was male, the other female. Sereth, needlessly, put his fingers to his lips. Lalen drew his gol-knife.
      The voices changed their tenor, grew faint. Per-haps a quarter-enth passed. I shifted my weight.
Sereth hissed at me.
      At that moment there was a creaking, and the low stra door was swung back from the inside,
exposing a Parset rug that did not belong there. Crouched upon it, peering at us, was Chayin. Torch-light
flickered over his hugely grinning face. She had had the grace to leave the sconces, then. I crawled
through first, at the cahndor’s wordless invitation, wondering what had become of my white-upon-white
floor tapestry, that one I had commissioned in exotic Galesh.
      Then I saw Celendra. In. mid-crawl, I saw her, and rose up on my knees. She lay upon that red mat
she must have brought with her from Arlet, all bound up in her Arletian love chains. They are women’s
chains, strong enough, yet light. They would not chafe her black and shapely wrists like crell chains.
Objectively, I admitted that she was very lovely, lying there, bound and gagged with her own thigh-length
black hair. Chayin had balled a great wad of it and forced it into her mouth, taking more of her silken
mane and binding it across her mouth, then tying a great knot at the back of her dusky neck. Her
gold-green eyes stared over her gag, terrified. I did not blame her Chayin can be truly terrifying. He had
bound each hand to her ankles, between which she had a handbreath slack of links, as is often done with
pleasure chains. She was leashed to the foot of my Astrian couch, on six links of tether.
      It struck me funny. I knelt, laughing softly, until Sereth pushed me out of his way. I fell to my side and
lay there, smiling. When Celendra saw him, she closed her eyes. Trembling, she bowed her head to the
extent her leash allowed it.
      Lalen squeezed through and closed and locked that half-door, his quick eye even replacing the rusty
curtain that Chayin had thrown back to ex-pose it. Chayin, who sat now upon the rumpled couch covers,
was fully dressed. In his hand he held a braided strap, of the sort with which Parsets discipline women.
Wide it is, and not fearsome in itself. Wielded by Chayin’s strength, by a man’s strength, it was a very
terrible instrument indeed. I recalled the feel of that strength when I had displeased him in the desert. I
looked around. I might have been in Arlet, rather than Astria. Celendra had brought all her
accouterments with her. She had played at submission a long time. But now she shook with fear. She
would find out how the reality differs from the fantasy. She moaned softly. She would moan often, as a
crell. She did not know, of course, unless her forereading, had told her, that she would be crell. I found it
satisfying. There is never ease betVveen beautiful women. I took pride in my position of high favor with
these pow-erful men, and joy that she was not so favored. I stretched out upon one hip and crooked my
leg. I was no longer angry. Celendra would get exactly what she deserved.
      “I bought her token from Wiraal, and one for tomorrow night, also. I paid, even, a deposit for
overage, that I might have her undisturbed from now through the morning of second seventh. The fee was
exorbitant. She was flattered, and so should she have been. I have better cleaning threx stalls in Nemar.
It was hard for me to believe,” said Chayin, grinning broadly, his face turned so she could not see it, “that
this was truly the Well—Keepress, when I found her. I told her I would have no lesser in my arms. That
is the truth. I think I have never had.”
     Sereth had walked around Celendra and was leaning against the window. When I lived here, those
windows had no M’ksakkan crystal in them. The room was all reds, browns, and blacks. I looked up at
the ceiling that was also roof to this tower. That, at least, was unchanged. Once a year, the stars lined up
with the etchings of the constellations. It is a glorious sight, upon the anniversary of the Well-raising. This
night, it was not unlovely.
     I went to Sereth, thinking to give solace. His face was against the pane, his shoulders hunched. Only
when I peered up into his eyes did I realize I could not give it.
     I reminded myself that this woman had birthed him his only son. That in her, he saw Tyith, and what
she had done to him in revenge for the boy’s death. That she had known Tyith would die, I did not
doubt. What lay between them, that a woman would sacrifice her own son to destroy the man who had
brought that child upon her? I touched him, wordless, and to my surprise, he took me under his arm and
laid his chin upon the crown of my head. I felt the stiffness leave him. I kissed the hollow in his neck,
running my tongue there lightly.
     “Be silent in this,” he whispered to me, “unless I ask you to speak, no matter what is said.” He
looked down upon me sternly.
     “I promise,” I said, and a smile touched him.
     Forever he was silencing me, and forever I dis-obeyed him, without meaning to do so.
     There was a sharp, muted, sound, the sound of las41 upon flesh. We both turned. Chayin struck her
once more upon the back. The leather hissed, part-ing her skin. She lunged upon her tether and pre- g
ented her buttocks to him. He greeted them with a restrained stroke. Welts rose high and angry upon her
black cheeks.
     “She likes that,” said Sereth dryly. “Do not give her too much.” But those devastating, knife-sharp
blows were not to Celendra’s liking. She wriggled and cried out around her gag. Chayin, for all his
punishing savagery, was very careful. And I real-ized he did not use his full strength upon her. He struck
always as men strike women, judging, giv-ing quarter, and even that was too much for her. Huddled
before him, her neck stretched to the tether, she seemed smaller than I remembered her. Chayin,
put-down the lash.
     He leaned over, twisting her head back. The couch creaked with the strain as the leash hummed taut.
     “Do you like that?” he asked her, his face close to hers, shaking her head back and forth. She made
noises around her gag. There were tears in her eyes. “Blink if you like being whipped.” Celendra did not
blink. “Good,” grunted Chayin. “You are not supposed to like it. When you are crell, you will bring me
the lash in your teeth, upon your knees, begging.”
     Celendra struggled wildly. She was half Parset, and she knew, better than I had known, what it
meant to be crell. Chayin arched her back , by the hair until she lost her balance and fell heavily, her body
held off the ground by the collar and leash.
     “Estri, Sereth, come sit here.” I ran my palms over my face, that I might smooth away any shadow of
my mixed emotions. I went and sat by Chayin, where he patted the couch beside him. Celendra’s knees
were at Chayin’s feet. Sereth came and sat near me. He looked down at her, his face cold. She met his
eyes, pleading, shaking her head to and fro; little strangled noises came out of her. I put my hands around
Sereth’s arm, leaned my head against it. Celendra watched me. I smiled politely.
     “We have not been,” said Chayin to her, “properly introduced. I found it served me to fabricate a
name,” he explained to Sereth, who needed no explanation. “Jasrey aniet Saer”—he grinned—” is the
name I used, if you have need to call me by it.”
     “Son of a threx, are you?” Sereth • laughed. Celendra looked between them, horrified,
under-standing. “Let me introduce you two properly. Celendra Doried bast Aknet, meet the man that set
 your father about the chaldra of the soil; Chayin rendi Inekte, chosen son of Tar-Kesa, cahndor of
Nemar, cahndor of Menetph.”
     Celendra found strength in her to renew her struggles. Chayin kicked her casually in the dia-phragm.
She choked and coughed and finally knelt quiet, her head down. Tears fell upon her breasts, ran off those
dusky nipples, raining down upon her thighs and knees.
     “Stop it, crell, or I will give you a beating worth such a production!” Chayin, snapped, irritated.
Celendra sniffled. Her shoulders ceased heaving. She straightened perceptibly.
     Chayin ran the length of braided leather back and forth between his long-fingered hands. Celendra
watched the motion, hypnotized. If she had been a man, it would have been the sharp-fanged huija he
used upon her, and her back no more than shred-ded flesh upon exposed bone. I had seen it. Celendra
had not. The welts she bore were nothing. I knew. She did not know. I shot a glance at Lalen, sitting
cross-legged before the rust-toned curtain, drawn sword on his knees. Lalen, I saw, also recollected
what it was to be crell. His stony face showed his contempt for her, she who did not know.
     That is better,” said Chayin. “Straighten your back. Pull your stomach in. Throw those breasts out.”
With each order, he slapped the leather loudly against itself. She was quick to obey him.
     “Celendra ...” Sereth said softly. She flinched as though she had been struck, and raised her face to
his. ‘We know about your arrangement with M’ksakka. Your friend Dellin lies bound and gagged,
helpless in his own keep.” Celendra shuddered. Her head bobbed. Her shoulders sank, and she
slumped. Chayin brought the coiled lash down hard across her breasts.
     “I told you to sit up,” he said. She sat up, her eyes upon Chayin’s hands. She had begun to sweat.
Little beads of it broke out upon her forehead, between her breasts.
     “I have given you to Chayin. Do you understand that? So sure were we, so easy was it to take you,
that your fate was decided a set before you fell to us. You have been a crell this whole time—Chayin’s
possession, only you did not know it. Now you know. You, by my will and design, shall be less than a
beast of burden in Nemar. I gave you to him. You are his.”
     Celendra’s body pleaded with him. If she could, she would have kissed his feet. She could not. All
she could do, she did—widen her eyes and tremble and make tiny noises like some poisoned yit.
     “As you may know, there are many different kinds of crells,” said Chayin informatively. I thought of
those oiled, fragrant girls he had kept at his palace in Nemar North. I thought, of the cell where I had
been chained. “What your lot is like depends on you. Though you are surely no man’s ten, you might
keep yourself from. the mines. We shall see. I will free your tongue, and with it you will choose for me.
You will repeat exactly what I say. You will beg to live, as crell to me.”
     And he took his gol-knife and cut the hair that bound her mouth. The shorn tresses fell to the floor.
He pulled the balled, soaking hair from her mouth. She chose for him then, as I had so long ago. With
quaking voice she proclaimed herself crell. She gave her life to another, that she might not die. I felt, for
the first time, a twinge of sorrow. Chayin was not playing. He truly did not like her; doubtless he would
not keep her. I wondered, what her lot would be like in Nemar.
     Sereth rubbed his hand up and down my, arm. He touched me lightly on the lips. I started, real-ized I
had been staring.
     “Celendral” Sereth snapped. She raised dumb eyes to him. She seemed stunned.
     “I want you to tell me exactly what precautions you have taken against your master’s forces. You do
not know how much I know. If I were you, I would not lie.”
     She tossed her head. For a moment I saw Celen-dra, haughty and regal, who had once said to me
that there were not many men who could conquer her, even for a night. Then that woman was gone, and
a velvet-soft stranger looked out of those eyes at him.
     “I knew it,” she whispered. “Each night, I waited. I knew it would come. When they could not kill
you, I knew it just a question of time. I am glad
     .” She choked. “Glad the waiting is over.” And her shoulders shook, though she kept them well
back. Sobs wracked her. Sereth shook his head and leaned back upon the couch, impassive.
     Chayin struck her across the face. She composed herself. Her breasts quivered.
     She told us what she had done: she had called upon the Slayers, who waited for Day-Keepers’
approval. If they got it, any approaching army of
      Parsets would be dealt with by a contingent of Slayers, who were already preparing. When that was
in progress would more Slayers swarm into Astria herself and dispatch the yra of jiasks who pleasure
there. Also, she told us what we already knew—of Dellin and M’ksakka—and what she said, we knew
was true.
      “I want you to call a messenger. You will issue certain orders,” Sereth said when she had finished.
He still leaned back, nonchalant and easy upon the couch.
      “No,” she whispered. Hope lit her face bright. “Do not tempt me,” Sereth advised, sitting up. He
regarded her, amused.
      She shook her head. “If you need me, there is hope yet. No.”
      “Little fool,” he mused, as he got to his feet. He took the tether and unclipped it from the couch,
arching her up until he could hook the clip to the chain between her ankles. She lay there, her body a tight
bow, helpless. She had sought to bite him. He was not pleased.
      “With your permission, Cahndor?” Sereth paused, kneeling over her, his hand in her chald.
      “I have always wanted to see how you do it,” said Chayin, leaning forward. “I have seen the results,
but never the work in progress.”
      “It is only”—Sereth grinned—“a matter of tim-Mg.”
      In less than an enth Celendra wrote the message that Sereth wanted. In fact, she pleaded
passion-ately to be allowed to do so. When Sereth’s hand came close to her lips, she kissed it. They
unbound her hands that she might write it, and then they reshackled her.
      She begged that they leave her hands free until she had seen the messenger. Sereth would not al-low
it. They had seen her thus before, he said. It was only she who saw the difference, only her submission
that shamed her, he pointed out, lock-ing her wrists again to her ankles.
      Sereth, wisely, gave her no rest from his hands, lest she come back to her contentious self too soon.
Over and over he, repeated to her what she was to say.
      “Should you not hide?” asked Chayin.
      Sereth chuckled. “Clump yourselves. Often in Arlet there were more than two in a couching. I doubt
it is different here.” I saw the flaw in his thinking, but he had bid me be silent.
      I was between Chayin’s legs where he sat upon the couch, with Lalen curled around him, when the
messenger’s knock came.
      Sereth opened the right-hand door, keeping it between his body and the messenger’s sight. Those
carved doors had been in my family two thousand years.
      The man stood there, blinking. He noted Celendra, expressionless. Sereth closed the door. I twisted
to see him better.
      “High Lady!” he gasped, and went upon his knees, his forehead to the Parset rug.
      Sereth momentarily went blank. I stood, uncer-tain, half-risen. Then he nodded.
      I went and knelt before Ges, whose father’s fa-ther had been in the service of my mother’s mother. I
touched his shoulder. He raised misted eyes to me. We were within a year the same age. His open-faced
countenance had not changed. His blue eyes sparkled with joy. I offered my cheek that he might kiss it.
      “We thought you dead, Estri.” He waved his hand around. “Things are troubled.”
      “More than you know,” I said softly. “But I am not dead.” I smiled at him. I hated to do it, but the
contingency was upon us.
      “I need your help,” I said to him.
      “Anything,” he promised. My eyes found Sereth’s, for confirmation. He gave it.
      “At sun’s rising, put upon the door the sign of Feast of Conception, that none may disturb us.
Between now and then, find, if you can, every man and woman loyal to Astria and bid them wear a white
armband, that we will know them, and fight beside us to reclaim the Well.” White and silver were my
colors, once the colors of this room, for four generations the colors of Astria.
      “There will be many anxious to do so. What of the Parsets?” He did not see, as we had thought such
a one would not, that I had no right here, and that what he did would make him outlaw.
      “They are my helpers. We will fight Celendra’s men, and what Slayers raise hand against us. These
messages of Celendra’s are our doing. See that they get to the hostel. And more you must do.”
     Ges, like a trustful tasling about to be slaughtered, nodded. “There are few here who would uphold
her,” he said.
     “Listen to her, take these words of ours from her mouth, spread them, and return.”
     And Sereth bade Celendra speak, that she might take a hand in her own destruction.
     “Tell Rin that the morning is over.” She wept. “Do you understand? It is the code we keep for signal.
By.that he will know.” Her voice went from her. Sereth’s hand upon her helped her find it. “By that he
will know the message is truly from me, that you are my envoy.” And the message Sereth gave to Ges, in
Celendra’s hand, informed Rin diet Tron that she had the Parsets in Astria under control, and that he
need no longer keep alert for reinforcements from the south.
     “That is all?” wondered Ges. He turned to me, his face troubled. “High Lady, I do not understand.”
     “Then you must serve me without understand—
     ing,” I said gently. “Do as I say. Tell no Slayer of what we plan; deliver instead this falsehood. Trust
me.”
     “I do,” he said, his huge eyes sincere. He turned to go.
     “And do not forget to place the sign of Feasts of Conception upon the door at sun’s rising. It is of
utmost importance,” I urged.
     “But who has conceived?” he asked.
     “No one. Lie. Work something out with a girl. Just do it!”
     Those blue eyes stared through me. He nodded slowly.
     “I will talk to Cia. We shall say it is she.” Sereth, at the door, struggled to contain his amusement. He
opened it. Ges, uncertainly, turned to leave.
     “Tasa, Ges!” I called after him. He waved, smil-ing over his shoulder. Sereth closed the door he had
opened, and leaned against them where the two doors met. He let out a long, sibilant breath through his
teeth. Celendra lay where he had left her, softly sobbing.
     “You should have hidden,” growled Chayin. He walked over to Celendra and put his foot upon her.
“You make one more sound, and I will fill that mouth of yours too full for you to make a second. Do you
understand?” She strangled a final sob. He reached under her and jerked her into the air by the chains,
throwing her upon the couch as if she weighed nothing. Lalen barely scrambled out of the way. She lay
there, unmoving, fighting for control. Even as she started screaming, Lalen s hand came down upon her
mouth. I barely noticed.
     I thought of Ges, whom I had betrayed. But I could not have told him. If he had known that the
Ebvrasea stood before him, he would not have asked why we sought to deceive Rin diet Tron, First of
the Slayers’ Seven of Astria. Rin diet Tron, father of Jana, whom Celendra had surely mur-dered, was a
man to whom chaldra was everything.
     By chaldra he determined the law within, and thus did he live. Though he had been my most-loved
teacher, though he had taught me all my fighting skills, I could do no other than deceive him. It was his
chaldra to protect the reigning Well-Keepress. He would assuredly do so.
     Ges, of course, never delivered his message. An-other message went out of Astria, to the Slayers’
hostel, drafted by those who apprehended him, by those who monitored our every word and action
through the surveillance devices Celendra had in-stalled in each couching keep of Astria. Some-where, at
the end of those cables we had passed in the crawlways, sat Celendra’s monitors—those who had sent a
man I knew to us as messenger, those who thought that to such a loyal servant we would reveal our
plans. And so out of Astria went the message we really desired—that we held the Keep-ress, that we
awaited our army, and most impor-tant, that through Celendra’s monitors was her safety assured.
     Sereth called me to the window where he had waited, silent, more than an enth. Together we
watched the lone threxman speeding, through the night toward the Slayers’ hostel. Though Celendra
might do as she pleased in Astria, Rin diet Tron had no receiver for her star toys in his fortress. The rider,
speeding, was proof: Celendra, who could speak to any Liaison upon Silistra at the flick of a switch,
could not contact a Slayer or a Day-Keeper any faster than a threx could run.
     We stood long together, waiting for Celendra’s men to do our work for us. Muffled but
unmistak-able sounds of swordplay came to us from the floors below—Celendra’s men, hastening to
bind any whose loyalty to her was not sure, before they fell upon us. Celendra heard it, too, and laughed
be-neath her gag.
     To fool a forereader, I thought as Lalen bestirred himself in response to a cadenced scratching upon
the half-door at his back, is no easy matter.
     Chayin took up his sword, smashing the hilt of it into a small mirror set in the gol beside a torch
sconce. Celendra’s head turned to watch him. Her eyes widened. She struggled. Two more of the
spy-eyes did Chayin dispatch, while Celendra watched helpless, and in through the low door squeezed
Wiraal and half his force.
     Wiraal’s drawn blade dripped redly. He was scratched, and his cape had been torn away.
Breath-ing heavily, he leaned against the wall. Lalen stuck his head into the crawlway, peered around,
closed and locked it.
     Sereth had Celendra by the hair, dragging her bound blackness across the floor. He threw the Parset
mat off the star-bought communicator she had used to summon the messenger. His sure hands woke the
machine, readied it to speak to every room.
     Only then did he lift his foot from her hair.
     “I am going to free that flapping tongue of yours, and you are going to call them off! I want every
male and female in this tower in the common room. They will bring with them all their weapons, and pile
them there upon the floor. They will bring with them, each one, sufficient chains for their binding, and lock
them upon one another, Wiraal will collect the keys. If we find one armed Slayer, one missing key; one
fleeing coward, I will kill you.” And then he knelt down and took the gag from her mouth, and she knew,
as I, that he would, surely, kill her if she disobeyed.
     She looked at him a moment, almost smiling. Then she bent her head and gave his orders, and for the
first time her voice held defeat. Celendra had met her match. She had lost, and she knew it. She
trembled, and her skin seemed gray, and she did not even raise her head when Sereth ripped the
communicator apart, though wires and sparks and shards of glass showered her where she knelt.
     “How?” she wondered, barely audible. I thought he would strike her. He did not. He squatted down
and grinned at her. Wiraal cleaned his sword upon the shining well silks. His men, ten of them, tended
each other’s wounds. Their talk was sparse and gruff, that of men upon the kill. Uris pouches were
passed. Leaning against the window, between two jiasks I did not know, I availed myself of one as it
passed. So easy was Celendra brought low, despite all her skills. Knowing her, he had found it so easy.
Even her last and most subtle ploy, that of the messenger, he had turned against her. She had
orchestrated Sereth’s destruction, knowing he would come, knowing even that I would be with him. He
had taken the composition from her hands and played it for her, but his own arrangement.
     “How?” Celendra begged to understand:
     A knocking came at the double doors. Men shifted as one their weapons ready. Chayin crossed the
crowded keep in a dozen strides and cracked the doors. Then he opened them both as wide as they
would go.
     In that torchlit hallway stood the rest of Wiraal’s jiasks. They were eleven, scruffy, bleeding, grinning.
Upon their arms were draped necklaces of crell chains, brought with them from Nemar, for which they
had not yet found use. They flanked their number in Slayers, whose slate leathers had been pulled from
them, and replaced with manacles. Their necks were bound together with locked loops of a single length
of thick chain, as is done with mine crells.
     “Looks as if you can kill her, Sereth,” said Chayin sourly, regarding the wounds upon his men.
     “Is there resistance out there?” Sereth queried the room in general, as the jiasks pushed their
prisoners within.
     “Not since that voice in the air,” chortled one jiask. “We started fighting these beforehand, a slight
miscalculation. When they heard it, they just threw their swords down. It was the most amazing thing I
ever saw!” The jiask shook his head, still laughing. In his humor he had lapsed into Parset.
     Sereth put his hands upon Celendra, unresisting, and rebound her. He removed all but the leash and
collar, and the wristlets, which now secured her hands behind her back.
     Pointing first at Lalen, then at Wiraal and Chayin, he pushed Celendra through the crowd out the
door.
     Though he had not invited me, I ran to him. He stopped, just in the hallway. Lalen took up his stance
at my side. Sereth’s cold eyes measured me.
     “You may,” he said.
     The kill lust was upon him, then, as it was upon Chayin, and every male face I saw. Even Lalen,
always stern, seemed transformed. Their eye-whites glittered and their teeth flashed. They stood poised
there, in that white-gol hallway with its amber floor, waiting for his word to unleash them.
     “You may, but stay close,” he said again, turn-ing to the crowded room. I reached down and set my
razor-moons, that they would leap unimpeded to my hand if I chose to use them.
     “You”—he pointed to the jiask who had spo-ken—“I give you charge. Take half your force and rip
out every cable and machine you can find. Do not neglect the crawlways. Be cautious, be thor-ough. The
rest of you, split into twos and check every chamber, a floor at a time, starting here. I want no living thing
anywhere in Astria but the common room. If you run out of bonds, kill them. These few men ...” He
looked upon the Slayers, those who had once been his brothers. The black strands of their calling
gleamed darkly from the chalds at their hips. “These few men,” he said again, “bring also to the common
room. But last. Make sure they are well secured, leave a guard on them. Those you find bound by her
people, free, and bring them also.”
     Behind us, the sea of men began to part, as they separated the tasks among them and drifted to the
new leader Sereth had appointed.
     “He is not whom I would have chosen,” grum-bled Wiraal to Chayin.
     Chayin bade him be still.
     “Here,” said Sereth, pushing Celendra toward the cahndor. “She is your crell. I might need my hands
free.” She stumbled, fell upon the amber gol like some shadow cast there. Sereth looked at her in disgust.
The tether dangled from her collar.
     “Sereth, please, no.”
     “Get up,” said Chayin wearily. “I hope we do not have to go through all this again because you did
not believe it the first time. I have not so long to spare.” He hefted his Parset sword. Celendra got up and
walked meekly between Wiraal and her owner, the cahndor.
     “We must stop at the chamber Wiraal used,” Chayin demanded of Sereth.
     “Why?”
     “He left his huija there.” Chayin grinned.
     “In his saddlepack, I suppose?” Sereth shot back.
     “Where else?”
     “And that is where all the crell chains came from?” Sereth asked.
     “Would you have bound them with couch sheets? Where a Nemarsi goes, so goes his saddle.”
     “And whatever happens to be in it.” Sereth laughed.
     “What,” asked Wiraal, as we descended the stairs that wound around the tower’s inner core, “is the
disposition of these women? I left a beauty trussed next to my gear.”
     “Do what you will. Only, do not burden yourself with too many. One cannot fit a wellwoman in a
saddlepack.” We came out upon the second floor, which is all sea-green. I wondered how any girl in this
low-priced section could have taken the jiask’s interest.
     When Wiraal opened the chamber door, I won-dered no longer. Lovely and ripe was that
brown-haired, gray-eyed girl. She was very young, and it was her inexperience, not anything else, that
priced her so low.
     Wiraal patted her where she lay, bound and gagged as Celendra had been, upon the couch. “I will be
back for you,” he promised, and her terri-fied eyes were huge upon him.
     Then he turned to his saddlepack, and as he routed among its contents, I realized that Celendra never
had a chance. Wiraal alone could have stood against formidable odds a good long time with that arsenal.
He took his huija and shook it loose. The metal teeth gleamed, embedded in that supple leather. He
snapped it, cracking, and Celendra screamed.
     Chayin laughed, humorless, and took her by the—tether.
     “I know what I am going to do with you. I am going to have your vocal cords cut. Then I will give
you to Jaheil.”
     Celendra did not know Jaheil. But she knew Chayin, and she quaked. She laid her head upon his
arm. She looked soulfully into his eyes. Her pointed breasts pushed against him. She whispered
something, placating.
     “Perhaps I will change my mind,” he allowed, “about the vocal cords. But I will doubtless”—he
pushed her from him, jerking her up short by the leash—“give you to Jaheil.”
     “What do you find so offensive about her, Cha-yin?” I asked, as we left the couch chamber and its
bound occupant and headed for the common room. I was curious. To me, Cclendra is outstandingly
lovely, with her velvet skin and her great breasts like pointed pillows and her wide, curving hips. I am
small, slim-hipped, insignificant compared to her. I know men find .grace in me, in my long delicate legs
and my very fineness, but I have always secretly wished to be voluptuous, statuesque. It is truly said that
a woman cannot assess her own beauty.
     “Tell me,” I insisted. “I think she is beautiful. I want to know.”
     “Do you, Sereth,” asked Chayin, “think she is. beautiful?”
     “I did, for a long time,” he said quietly. “I had a sickness for her, once. It ate away at me, and when it
was done, I no longer found her so.”
     “She is too much a tiask to suit me,” said Chayin. “There is too much man in her ... something. I do
not know.” He frowned. “I just do not want her.”
     “I think I know what you mean,” said Sereth, still softer. “When I first had her, such was not her
nature. Perhaps it was I who made her as she is. Perhaps just what came to be between us ...”
Unconsciously he slowed his stride, remembering. “Before Tyith, in the very beginning, she was quite
different.” I saw Celendra’s face. I cannot describe it. She stared at her feet, bare, upon the gol.
     And I, too, stared at my booted feet in the si-lence that came over us all. Beneath them, the gol floor
became steps, and we descended to the com-mon room. I wanted, to go to Sereth, to beg an enth alone,
but I did not.
     I have often wished I had done so, lying here, my thoughts upon him. The future cloaks the past,
experience alters it. And memories, I have come to know, are not the permanent possessions I once
thought them.
     We came out into the common room, filled with shackled men and women. Sereth, in the doorway,
stopped, his eyes searching tricks and treachery. Four jiasks moved through the prisoners, kneeling here,
stooping there, checking.
     In Astria we have no divisions to our common room, as they do in Arlet. A man knows the girl’s
price by the color of the armlet she wears. All the furniture, couches and pillows, had been pushed to the
sides of the great white-and-silver hall. The bodies were so thick upon the floor that the inset designs of
colored gol could not be seen.
     Sereth called a jiask to him.
     “The wellwomen?” the Ebvrasea asked.
     “We are collecting the last of them now.”
     Sereth nodded. “Separate them into groups—Slayers, wellwomen, customers, Celendra’s hire-lings.
Where are those who were bound when you found them?”
     The jiask led us among the throng to a small group huddled unbound near the door to the drug
chamber. They looked up at us, fearful. Some were bleeding, most were bruised. In that group were
well-women, servers, fitters. My name came from their lips; hands were extended to me. I stepped back.
I was chaldless, woman of an outlaw. All my name held for them was a similar fate. These were those
whom Celendra’s people felt need to restrain, lest revolution come upon Well Astria. If it had not been
for the diversion they provided, things might have gone another way. I searched the faces again. Ges was
not among them.
     I realized, as I stared around me, that I had seen not a single corpse. Though Sereth was outlaw, he
was still a Slayer, and doubtless one of the shrewd-est of them. Had Astria been taken, truly, by Parsets,
these floors would be covered with dead.
     Sereth crouched down among them. As one, they stared at him.
     “You, all of you,” he said, barely whispering, “I
     will offer a choice. You must consider before you answer. This is not what you think. Estri will never
rule again in Astria. Day-Keepers will come here and look for guilt and complicity among you, for they
will never believe we did this alone.” He looked around him, licking his lips.
     “I can bind you and put you with the others. I can leave you free, and you may do as you will. We
will be here one day only, and when we leave, Day-Keepers will come. There will be a new
Well-Keepress, for we will take Celendra with us. Even now, from the suspicions of Celendra’s people,
your chalds may be in danger. Your help would be welcome, but we cannot take any of you when we
leave.” He leaned back upon his heels. Wiraal drifted away from us toward his jiasks.
     “I raised hands to a Slayer,” said one man in a low tone. “I have nothing more to lose.” Sereth’s
Mouth tightened, understanding.
     “What was your skill?” the Ebvrasea asked. I saw Wiraal counting heads, and something cupped in
his hands—keys to the pleasure chains of Astria.
     “I was a fitter, but not for women. Once I worked for the hostel. I made an enemy there. When
Celendra demanded an armsman, my enemy saw to it I was chosen.”
     “Have you any of your work?”
     The man raised his head, staring.
     “In that pile, perchance,” he said, pointing to the knee-high jumble, a man’s length across, of
confiscated arms.
     “Go find some. I would see it.” The man rose and threaded his way hurriedly among the prison-ers.
     Sereth turned back to those whose disposition so perplexed him.
     In the end, we bound all but ten, who felt themselves already marked. They troubled Sereth greatly,
these men, for eight were of couples, and none, he felt suited to run with his own renegades. He advised
them to elect a leader, take what they wanted of Astria’s treasures, and get themselves a good start upon
their new lives.
     When he stood up finally, his face was tight and drawn.
     “There is more of this,” he muttered as he turned from them. I pressed myself against him. He pat-ted
me absently, then headed toward the far side of the common room, where Wiraal had grouped the
Slayers. I would have let him go, but Lalen shoved me after him.
     Halfway to them, the armsman stopped him, with a handful of his craft.
     Sereth took from him, piece by piece, his work. He tucked in his chin and regarded the weaponer
under his hair, as he sometimes does when thinking.
     He threw me a stra straight-blade. The weight was perfectly balanced, the hilt snuggled against my
hand. I smiled at the man, and handed it back. Sereth’s eyes took mine. I could not believe he would
consult me in such a matter. His eyes laughing, he handed me a short blade. I examined it, passed it to
Lalen, who grunted approvingly.
     “Get yourself a threx, and provisions. Pack the tools of your craft. Where you go, you cannot buy
what you do not have.”
     The man grinned, turned, and hurried from the chamber, stopping only long enough to deposit his
samples upon the pile.
     “Sereth” Chayin, standing with Celendra next to Wiraal. Lalen had to bodily move me. As I watched
the weaponer, it had come to me that he would never serve us; that neither Sereth nor I would ever stand
again upon Mount Opir.
     “What is wrong with you?” demanded Lalen. I could not speak. I trembled, silent. Then I wheeled
and ran through the prisoners, oblivious, stepping upon them.
     “Sereth! Sereth!” I grabbed his arm, pulling upon it, dragging him away from Chayin and Wiraal and
the Slayers above whom they stood. “Sereth! Hold me, oh, hold me!” And he did.
     “We have got to go! Go now. Please. I cannot do it,” I begged through frozen lips.
     “Quiet, little one. He pressed my head against his chest, his lips close to my ear. “It will be over soon.
You are doing fine.”
      “Please, now. Chayin. Ask Chayin.”
      “Chayin, come here. Do you know what is wrong with her?”
      And the membranes closed over Chayin’s eyes, and stayed closed.
      “Doubtless,” he said quietly, “she has seen it, that which her mind kept from her, which she would not
admit she saw.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “She wants you to leave, I imagine?”
      Sereth nodded. His body stiffened against me.
      “Go if You would. If you take her, you will not get far. If you leave her, to do what the time demands
of her, you might make it. I would like to say I could return her to you, but I do not find such in the sort.”
He spread his hands. “It is a decision the two of you must make.” And he turned his back to us and
walked back to Wiraal.
      “What is it?” he demanded. “Why must we go?” And L knew when he said it he had his decision
already made.
      I pressed myself tighter against him, as if I could somehow stop the moment’s passing.
      “You will not leave, no matter .what _I—say.” I despaired. He kissed my temple.
      “That is right, I will not. But it might serve me, to know what you see. Perhaps we can avoid it.”
      “We cannot avoid it. We are it!”
      “You speak riddles, woman.” He shook me, hold-ing me away from him. My eyes had no tears in
them. I was incapable of tears. I raised my hand and put my fingers upon the deep scar he bore, tracing
its length. I fought for strength, and that strong place within me gave what it could.
      “No woman,” I said to him, “is worth what my price will come to be. When you have said to me
what you have said, you must listen to the same. There will come a moment when you might save
yourself. You would be a fool not to do so. I will think no less highly of you.” And I bit my lip, until salt
blood ran upon my tongue.
      He tossed his head, bewildered, and smiled a strained smile. “We will discuss it further later,” he
said, and turned me firmly toward the captured Slayers.
      I saw upon Chayin’s face what was surely com-passion, as we joined them. We were not so far
from him that his desert-sharp ears could not hear. He knew, as I, that Sereth and I would not have time,
later, to discuss anything. He had known since Frullo jer. I stood between therm, Chayin and Sereth, and
the cahndor’s hand found mine and gripped it tightly. Laleri held Celendra’s leash, abstracted, staring at
the captives.
      “They would speak with you,” said Wiraal, ges-turing to what was now close to thirty men, chained
together by the neck, their hands bound behind in crell chains. “In Nemar, we would shut their mouths,
permanently, for asking.”
      He stood spread-legged before them, his hands upon his lips. The torchlight sparked from the
Shaper’s cloak he wore. Naked but for their chalds, they craned their necks, to see him—the Ebvrasea,
past-Seven of Arlet, chaldless, outlaw. Most of them were unscathed. Three bore flesh wounds.
      “Who speaks for you?” He asked his question to one he had singled out among the prisoners, one
who bore a diagonal wound, bloody, across his chest. His chains rustled softly as he struggled to his
knees. The men upon either side of him moved closer, to ease the tightened links upon their own necks.
      “Seven—” the man said.
      “Do not call me that.”
      “What are you going to do with us? Surely you would not see us crells?”
      “How did you come by that wound?” Sereth asked, deathly soft.
      “They came at us in the passage. We had no choice.
      “You will doubtless come to regret it. Were you not instructed specifically against crossing swords
with Parsets?” I wondered if Sereth’s senses had left him. Did he think himself again Seven of Arlet?
      “There is the life-right,” the man, growled.
      “Yes,” said Sereth, “there is the life-right. I made that choice myself.”
      The man squinted at him, his eyes searching. “They are like spirits. I have never seen men so fast.”
      “They use uris,” Sereth reminded him. “And in quantities that would destroy you or me in a few
passes’ time. Their constitutions are quite different.” His voice was softened. “I see no disgrace in what
you did, not in taking up your weapons, nor even putting them down. None but another Parset could
stand against a Nemarsi. Perhaps,” he added softly, “that is why Slayers are forbidden to fight them. “
     “You would not see us crells. Not your
     “No,” said Sereth, “I did not say I would. I will leave you to your brothers’ judgment. May it fall
fairly upon you.” And he turned his back upon the kneeling man.
     “Chayin, can you not take some of this load?” Sereth said, running his hand over his eyes wearily. It
seemed_ to me that the torchlight dimmed.
     “I will try. They all look alike to me.” Celendra, beside him, surveyed the ruins of her life. I was sure
now: sun’s rising lit the translucent white gol from without, causing it to seem that the torch-light dimmed.
I touched Sereth’s hand at my waist.
     The sign for Feast of Conception,” I reminded him.
     He demanded of Celendra the plaque’s location, and sent Wiraal to get it. Upon Feast of
Conception, the Well is closed to business, and all present the previous evening are feted, at the Well’s
expense. It is considered a bad omen to admit any others, although once Celendra had broken that rule
for me. And indeed, ill luck had attended us.
     When Wiraal returned with it, he went and placed the oblong plaque upon its hook on the great Well
door. Until dawn, Amarsa second seventh, one full day from now, the Well tower was effectively sealed
off from the rest of Astria. By that time, Jaheil’s appreis would have blossomed upon the plain. Sereth
and I stood in the great entrance hall, and through the door he caught his first glimpse of the wonder of
the Inner Well, ablaze with light re-fracted from the prismatic towers. Then Wiraal leaned his weight
against the great door, closed it.
     “This is the strangest fight,” he said, resting back against the bronze door, that I have ever fought. Put
a sign on the door, indeed!” His per-plexity was obvious.
     “Post a guard here, if it pleases you,” said Sereth.
     “I will. After I find that crell. It is a pity we cannot take them all. When do you think the Slayers will
arrive?”
     “It is seventy neras from here to there. The rider from Celendra has not yet arrived, will not before
midday. If they have their orders, they might move within an enth. There would be the question of how
fast to drive the threx—if they would fight Parsets mounted, they could not spend them so freely as the
messenger might. It is my guess that they will not have their orders. Rin diet Tron is not a man given to
precipitous action.”
     3 14          Janet E. Morris
     “When do you anticipate them?” Wiraal pressed.
     “Anytime between first bell and sun’s rising tomorrow.” First bell to sun’s rising is a spread of about
seven enths—half the short-summer night.
     “If they spare their threx. If they do not have their orders. What if they do not spare the threx? What
if they do have their orders?’
     “Then perhaps the Feast of Conception we have called will save us. Jaheil, remember, arrives at
sun’s rising, if not before.”
     “And Hael, I wager, close behind him,” Wiraal said dryly.
     “And upon Hael’s heels, Idrer and my men. And do not forget the tiasks—Pijaes and ... what is her
name?” Sereth asked me.
     “Nineth,” I supplied.
     “No one,” quipped Wiraal, “could forget Nineth. This whole escapade begins,” he admitted, eyes
dancing, “to make a sort of demented sense.” And he chuckled, still leaning against the door.
     “I do not relish it, but we must g6 back to the common room,” Sereth said, and Wiraal nodded,
pleased to be included in Sereth’s “we.”
     “Tell me of it in the crawlways, Wiraal,” I teased him. “How did you lose your cloak?”
     “As Chayin projected, we found fourteen of Celendra’s hirelings, sneaking upon you. Even did they
have a device with them, some star thing, that they planned to use upon the stra to eat it away. I tried it
upon a good blade. It works.”
     “Where is this device?” Sereth asked
     ..
     “I threw it in the sewers. That is where we caught them, just coming down the stairs from the
couching places. As the cahndor said we would. And that is where I lost my cloak. I needed a new one,
in truth.”
     “Where are the fourteen hirelings?” Sereth asked delicately.
     “Where goeth the spirit, when no longer en-fleshed?” Wiraal queried him.
     “I am sure I do not know,” answered Sereth sharply. “I would see the bodies.” And I knew he
sought Slayers among them.
     They were just beyond the common room, in an alcove that was ringed with tas-covered benches,
piled upon the floor. I had been wrong when I assumed that none had died this night. There were not
fourteen, but many more dead. Among them was Ges, one of six who had died at the hands of
Celendra’s men.
     I leaned down and touched the calm, cool face of Ges, with whom I had grown to adulthood.
     As I straightened up, I heard seventh bell tolling. I could not see it, for upon the ground floor of
Astria there are no windows, but outside, Astria was rising, all unknowing. Soon the musicians would
tune their instruments, the physicians tend their sick, the students of Well Arts attend their lessons, all
unaware that the Ebvrasea and the chosen son of Tar-Kesa held the central tower. When they did learn,
they would exclaim in won-der that twenty-five men and one woman had done such a thing, had taken
Well Astria, at such a paltry cost. The death toll steadied and held at twenty-six. Twenty-six were lost in
the downfall of Celendra, and more than six hundred taken captive, on that evening, second fifth of
Amarsa.
     One dead for each of our number. Th6 coinci-dence consumed me, wrapping me in its clammy,
morbid arms as I stood against the common-room wall, where Sereth had bade me await him. Lalen
lounged by my side, ever present, and in his hand he held Celendra’s tether. I was careful to keep him
between us.
     Wiraal had found and claimed his wellwoman immediately upon our return here, and in doing so set a
precedent. There would be a distinct widen—
     31 6         Janet E. Morris ing of the gene pool in Nemar. I, who had ad-judged twice a thousand
applicants as Well-Keep-ress of Astria, watched the Nemarsi at their choosing, and I saw that they
chose with discrimi-nation, with shrewdness, with that innate wisdom of a man’s eyes upon many
women.
     Astria gets first choice among potential well-women, after the Day-Keepers have taken what they
desire from the fruit of Silistra’s wombs. At first maturity, they test and rate the girls, and make their
ratings available to the Wells. From everywhere upon Silistra, excepting the Parset Lands, do women
come to Astria. Of all Silistran women of childbearing age, these were the finest. And now they went to
Nemar, the pick of them. I wagered some formidable spawn would come of that mixing. Such women
would much enrich the Nemarsi.
     Many who were chosen, I knew. There is not a great turnover in wellwomen, normally. It takes an
average of fourteen years to get one with child. I felt assured that in Nemar it would not take so long. I
saw a woman passed over, and another chosen in her place. The jiask’s choice had not such momentous
breasts as the reject, but she was sweet of disposition, and her bones were neatly turned. I would have
done no different, were I he, did I have his predilection for bones.
     Chayin and Sereth, after much discussion, had limited them to one apiece. It was past mid-meal
when the last of the twenty-one jiasks had chosen. Chayin took none, nor did Sereth or Lalen. When
Wiraal chided the, cahndor, Chayin regarded him icily.
     “I will have enough to do to look out for my own life, as will we all these next few days. No woman
goes out of here until we have victory upon the plain. I will have Hael’s head in my hand before any jiask
lay claim to his spoils.” He said it quite loud, in that roaring dorkat voice of his, and the men, muttering,
put their women together upon a single neck chain to await that event.
     Further, Chayin demanded of his men that they abstain from drugs other than uris, and that they stay
out of the drink room. No women, no danne, no kifra until he rescinded his order. Then he strode from
the room. Sereth, from where he stood with those we had left unbound, ran through the cap-tives after
hini.
     If Sereth had not put me with Lalen, I would have gone myself. But Lalen could not leave Celendra,
and he could not leave me, by Sereth’s order. Nor was he anxious to drag her along behind. She leaned,
quiet, perhaps uncomprehending, against the white gol. Understandably, Lalen would not chance rousing
her. We waited.
     There is only the battle left to tell, and how I came to be here. My memories fade from me as if they
were a Parsec carpet and someone stood at the start of my life, rolling it up, slowly and with infinite care.
     We saw Jaheil’s yra’s camp upon the plain un-der the light of the cresent-bound moon. I stood with
Chayin and Sereth, upon the Keepress’ over-look. We had broken Celendra’s M’ksakkan crystal to get
out there. It views not the Inner Well, but southeasterly the Astrian plain.
     They had been, all day long, absorbed in the details of conquest and impending battle. Enths they had
been gone together, leaving me with Lalen, and when they returned, their eyes were shadowed.
     The men were tense, alternately boisterous and withdrawn. They ate little. They watered their
women. They worked upon their gear. Sereth and Chayin and Wiraal roamed among them, among their
captives. Celendra waxed hysterical, and Chayin gagged hcr once more. He did not, however, put her
with Nemar’s new crells upon the chain.
     I sat long upon the floor by Lalen’s knee. I mourned in silence, and the fear passed out of me. Free
of it, I started what was my true work here. I cuddled my hest to me, and gave it strength. I sought Hael,
and found him close enough. And found Raet, as I had expected.
     Cold I was, by that time. I had not blinked in a quarter-enth. Upon the gol before;my eyes was the
sense of him, a door to where he was, if you will. I gave him civil greeting, in his own tongue. The flame
glow licked around his bronze face, those eyes that have suns for centers assessed me, and he gave his
cousin greeting. Raet, son of Kystrai, who was a brother of my father, acknowledged me. My father’s
daughter’s brother, great-grand-mother Astria had called him when she read my path more than 842
years ago. Raet was that, also; born of the same womb as Esyia, my half-sister. But relationship breeds
more than love, when in-heritance is concerned. Raet and Esyia had certain flaws in their makeup.
Mi’ystens are powerful, but they cannot make worlds, nor stars. They would like to have the space
world wiped clean, that they might set their own creations upon them. I had made a world. A paltry
world, true, but,a world. Raet knew. He acknowledged me. Never before had he done so.
     I reiterated my position to him. I would not step aside. I called him by the name through which he
ruled in the south—Tar-Kesa.
     He stated his intent, as was proper. He called me by my true name, that of the sevenfold spirit.
     “Upon the plain of Astria, at sun’s rising?” He begged my pleasure, as time called us both
else-where.
     “Upon the plain of Astria,” I affirmed. The gol was only gol, the door closed in upon itself. My eyes
burned and teared.
     ‘What?” I asked Sereth.
     “Come with me,” he said, extending his dark-tanned hand. “I have something to show you.” His eyes
were narrowed. Sereth’s sharpness had not missed my absence.
     I got up, too soon. My numbed limbs were clumsy. He caught me. Chayin stood there, grinning. This
time, with Raet, there had been no bargaining, no threats, no offer of quarter. No longer was I flesh toy
to him. I smiled to myself, and stood upon my own. If he thought me so much, perhaps I underestimated
my chances.
     “Slowly,” said Chayin, and called me by that name he could only have known from Raet’s mouth.
     “There is a chance,” I said to him, “that one might get hurt, doing such things.” I straightened and
stood unsupported, brushing my hair from my face.
     “Jaheil approaches,” Sereth said, looking between us. “I thought you might like to see it.”
     “I would,” I confirmed, and got upon my toes to kiss him. His arms. went around me. Over his
shoulder I saw Celendra, still gagged, watching dull-eyed.
     The three of us walked the halls of Astria together, and those stairs that led to my old keep.
     “What of Rin?” I asked, as we gained the fourth floor.
     “No sign. And the sanctity of Feast of Conception”—his teeth flashed—“has not been broken.”
     “And if Rin will not fight Hael for you?”
     “Then we will fight him ourselves,” growled Chayin. “Those Slayers will only take the edge off of
Hael’s men, if what I saw here was any indica-tor.”
     “Whichever way, if they engage each other, those they kill are that many fewer to worry about. If the
Slayers win, we fight them. If they lose, we fight Hael. Probably a little of both,” said
     Sereth, not overly concerned. He fairly quivered in eagerness.
     I watched him with a dull feeling as we climbed. Detached, as my power came to call, I found
my-self empty of thought, silent. Within me there was for the first time a sense of order. All that I had
become, poised ready, like a rack of weapons, sharp and fine. I found I was curious, eager, even, to test
those strengths that had place only against their like. I tasted kill-lust. It is stronger than uris, and
doubtless more habituating.
     We strode through the halls, of one mind. All life takes life to survive. They kill their own kind, the
survivors. One respects death, as life. There is much after what we know as life, but, that is no reason to
value life low. The lessons that are firstly given are given here. The foundation must be strong if the
building will stand. I did not seek death upon the plain. I did not suddenly come to value my life low. I
was only not fearful for it.
     With Chayin on one side of me and Sereth upon the other, I walked Well Astria’s halls much
changed. In my old chamber I no longer craved the past. As the men, only the moment concerned me.
That and what could be made from it.
     “There,” said Sereth, turning me just south of east. I had stepped carefully through the jagged shards
of crystal, still adhering to their frame, and positioned myself west. I looked for Jaheil also in the south.
He had not come through the Skin-, by Datur pass. He had not come from the southwest, along the
treacherous coastal cliffs.
     Amused, Sereth turned me, the Shaper’s cloak whipping in the night breeze.
     “I do not see anything. There is nothing east of here but the Litess and the sea. Both Day-Keepers
and Slayers are south of east.”
     “Nevertheless,” Chayin said, leaning close, his arm extended, “there is Jaheil.”
     I strained my eyes in the clear moonlit night. The plains of Astria swell gently, like some ever-frozen
sea. I was no Parset. In the full moon I might have done better. In the waning crescent, Chayin had to
direct my gaze.
     “See them. The light comes back off their metal.” And where he indicated, less than an enth’s ride, I
saw them. Once shown, the mass of them moving, dark-twinkling against lighter dark, was not diffi-cult
to follow.
     “How from the east?” I demanded.
     “We will let Jaheil tell you, mighty seeress.” Chayin chortled.
     “He did not!”
     “Did not what?” Sereth queried me.
     Chayin threw a leg over the overlook’s hip-high guard wall.
     “How?” I demanded of him.
     “What other way?” he answered. “Dordassa North is a port. It was much easier upon the threx to
trek them to Dordassa North, load them upon barges, depOsit them upon the banks of the Litess, and
ride them that little way here.”
     “Barges?”
     “It is often done,” said Chayin indulgently. “Remember; all but Nemar have usable coastline. The
Menetphers, when they war with Dordassa, often ship the threxmen there. Coseve and Itophe wage
constant war upon the seas.”
     A strand of my hair blew up and across Sereth’s face. In brushing it away, he pulled it from my head.
     I laughed. Nineth was with Jaheil. She, her yra of tiasks, and their threx were not accustomed to
barges, nor to water of any kind. I wondered how she had fared in that ride, up the coast to Port Astrin,
then inland along the Litess. Fresh indeed, would be Jaheil’s jiasks and tiasks.
     “Whose idea was it?” I asked, a suspicion dawn-ing on me.
     ‘Sereth’s,” Chayin said magnanimously.
     “And where they happened to take land again, I suppose, was a place that would bring them quite
close to the Slayers’ hostel,” I postulated.
     “Reasonably close,” Sereth admitted. His smile flashed in the moonlight. “Let us go and see what
Jaheil has to say.” And Chayin nodded, and ex-tended his hand to the Ebvrasea. Grinning widely, as if
some great deed had already been done, they traded a six-turn grip. It is a jiask’s grip, one of triumph.
     They took the stairs of Astria at breakneck speed, like two small boys. By the time we made the
common room, I was panting.
     “Jaheil arrives,” roared Chayin, barely skidded in the door. “Ready yourselves.”
     The exodus was orderly, smooth, and perplexing. The men, each before sidling, silent out the rear
door of Well Astria, collected their saddles. These they dragged with them out the door, hoisting them up
over their shoulders as they went. They left their threx where they were stabled, the Inner Well. Also they
left there, as Chayin had directed them, their well-women. All but Celendra. She walked meek beside
Lalen, now that the threshold was behind her. Over that she had made him drag her, in one last
contentious fit. And then Sereth had spoken to her, a few sparse words, very low. Gagged, she had not
answered. But she walked.
     Double file we strolled leisurely across the plain of Astria, to meet Jaheil.
     The appreis were risen, dawn only two enths away, when we reached them.
     The circle of appreis was forty-two, and within them, those of Jaheil, cahndor of Dordassa, and
Nineth, tiaskchan of Nemar, were raised. Jaheil’s was of splendor befitting a cahndor, though spare
enough by his standards. He apologized for the exigencies of war thrust upon him, as he seated us.
     Between the encircled appreis and the ring’s pe-rimeter I had seen the threx, strung out at lengths
upon ropes. I knew then why the jiasks had brought their saddles here upon their shoulders.
     As I ducked into Jaheil’s apprei, Sereth’s back before me, I shivered. Much had befallen me in such
shelters. I greeted Jaheil, looming huge and dark in the light of the oil lamp. He sat, dressed all in black,
as is his custom, pulling upon his great beard with one hand. Sprawled next to him upon the grass of
Astria was Nineth. Nineth, who was so large I had given her Besha’s clothing, and whose red-brown
skin sheathed muscle enough for most men. Nineth, who raised her hand to greet me, and stopped
halfway. Her sharp eyes flickered. I no longer wore Chayin’s medallion, nor my Nemarsi chald. Her eyes
took mine, haughty. She said no word to me, and lowered her hand.
     I took my place next to Sereth, whom Jaheil had seated upon his right hand. And Chayin entered,
pushing Celendra before him. He thrust her to her knees before Jaheil. I leaned forward, unabashed, that
I might see Nineth’s face, and Jaheil’s.
     “This,” said Chayin, prodding Celendra with his foot, “I have brought you as gift.” Celendra had her
head to the grass. This night, Jaheil had not spread his mats.
     “Are we now couch-mates, Chayin?” Jaheil said, straight-faced, in a high voice. Chay’in snorted.
     “Sit up, crell,” Jaheil urged. “I would see you.” His fingers fondled his beard, anticipating. Nineth, as
well as Celendra, sat up. The tiask’s eyes were noncommittal, at great cost. Lalen entered, quiet for all
his bulk, and crouched next to me.
     In all her beauty, gloriously robed in her naked-ness, Celendra sat up. Next to Nineth, she was
unspeakably delicate. Her heart-shaped face raised to him. Her huge gold-green eyes pleaded favor from
under brows like crier’s wings. She shifted slightly, that her knees might be together, and her chains
rattled. Between her high breasts depended the six-linked tether from her collar. It glinted softly,
swinging, in the lamplight.
     Jaheil looked upon her a time in silence. Chayin’s face, standing over her, betrayed no emotion.
     “Stand up, crell!” Celendra stood. He had her turn, then kneel again.
     “That was thoughtful of you, Cahndor,” Jaheil said at last, his, eyes twinkling. “I will use her as shield
in the fighting, if there is any.” He reached over and took her tether, pulled her by it. “Sit here,” he invited,
putting her upon his ample lap, as if she were a child. Nineth rose and left, wordless.
     Celendra moaned under her gag, enfolded in Jaheil’s arms as he explored his new possession. He
had not asked why Chayin gagged her, but he made no move to free her tongue.
     “Are there more?” Jaheil asked.
     “Many,” said Chayin, taking Nineth’s vacant seat upon Jaheil’s left—his rightful place, which he had
waited for Nineth to give up.
     “You can have all you want of them. They lie there ready, bound, for your men to take, when this is
over. This one was the highest of them.” He indicated Celendra, enfolded in Jaheil’s exploring grasp.
     “Again, I thank you,” Jaheil said, and rolled Celendra off his lap. She lay there, very still.
     We have some things to discuss, and little time,” Sereth said softly.
     Chayin inclined his head. Before Jaheil, in this place, he was again the living god.
     “Did you do as we asked? he demanded. “Yes, said Jaheil.
     “They saw: you?”
     “Doubtless,” said Jaheil.
     “And they did not obstruct you?”
     “Not even a warning.”
     “Sereth, perhaps they will not, after all, move to aid her.”
     “Perhaps,” allowed Sereth with no conviction. “We should get mounted. Form the tiasks upon the
outside. A Slayer will pull his stroke against a woman.”
     “They may not come,” said Chayin. Jaheil looked between them, his brows pulled together.
     “Do it!” the Ebvrasea ordered the cahndor. Jaheil’s brows went up, then down even farther. Lalen
shifted his sword arm clear.
     “Position the tiasks upon the, outside,” said Chayin to Jaheil. “Best men in a center swathe. If the
Slayers appear while we engage Had, you know what to do.”
     “And remember,” said Sereth softly, “my archers, and how far that death can fly.”
     Jaheil allowed that he had already spread that word.
     “Afterward,” said Chayin as we rose to find the threx Jaheil had brought us, “go into the Well and
allow my men to get their wellwomen. Take what you want; none will obstruct you. If you leave by
midday, that is. You must do so. I will not be with you.” He took the medallion of uritheria from about his
neck and handed it to Jaheil. Bewildered, Jaheil put it on.
     “What do you want me to do, Chayin?” he asked, his snarling manner much softened.
     “We will, in this battle, have a chance not only at Hael’s head, but at two other heads. If we were to
have all three, as I think we will, we could unite the Parset Lands. It is up to you to do so. I give you
regency in my name. You are the only one fit to hold it.” And his eyes said that he recalled Liuma, regent
of Menetph.
     “And where will you be?” demanded Jaheil.
     “I cannot tell you that. I will be safe enough. In the pass of winter solstice, I will return to you. And we
will change what is then, even more.” The wind from the abyss sighed in Chayin’s voice. And Jaheil saw
the veil heavy upon him, and only nodded and held back the flap. “You will return to us,” Jaheil added as
Chayin ducked under his arm.
     “Yes. With certainty.” And Chayin flashed his dorkat smile.
     Between the appreis, threxmen prepared their mounts. Through them Jaheil led us, to where Saer,
Guanden, and Krist, Sereth’s black, stood beside his own red giant. Before each was piled his gear.
Jaheil had been thorough, I thought as I struggled with Guanden’s head. Finally Sereth held his ears for
me, that I might get the bitless north-ern headstall upon him. Upon my saddle, as every other I had seen,
was affixed a coiled huija.
     “I cannot use this,” I said, as I hefted the saddle. I had to strain to get it upon his high withers.
     “Then do not use it,” Chayin said, from upon Saer’s dappled back. Nose in the air, the threx lunged
and pranced, cutting chunks of sod from ‘the earth with his steel-shod hooves. “It was the boat ride,” I
heard Chayin mutter, stroking his arched crest.
     “Perhaps I should have brought you Issa,” said Sereth critically, watching Guanden’s ill-mannered
attempts to maim me as I drew tight the girth. I well recalled her, that fair red threx, and her easy ways.
     “He will be better, for this day,” I grunted, and stepped back from my work. Chayin had Saer
calmed. The great dapple stood with his head , low. Only his distended nostrils betrayed his excitement.
     Behind Chayin, the stars were fading. Between the appreis I could see the first presaging green in the
east. And I saw also a certain misting, like a dust cloud up from the south.
     I took Guanden’s reins from Sereth and touched his arm.
     “Look south,” I advised. He did, squinting in the dark as if it were already day. He turned back to
me, his face only shadow play, and offered me a boost up onto Guanden’s back. The threx snorted and
squealed, and kicked both legs straight out. I slapped him hard between the ears, and he calmed and
stood trembling.
     Sereth approached the dun warily, put his hand upon my thigh.
     “Stay close to Lalen. Do not try to keep with, me. I will be near.” He squeezed my leg, and turned to
Krist.
     Chayin brought Saer up so close that our knees brushed. Guanden four-stepped, and I raised ‘my
hand in warning. His rolling eyes saw, his ears flicked back, and he reconsidered, satisfying him-self with
a defiant squeal that shook, his belly be-tween my legs.
     I watched Sereth, dark shadow sliding graceful against Krises blackness, and as I did so, dawn
colored his forth. It was very still, but for threx sound, as if the creatures of the plain held their breath in
expectation.
     Jaheil walked his red beast to us, Celendra bound to his saddle by her wrists. He swung up behind
her as the first ray of the sun broke over the plain and set his mount’s coat aflame. I had been before a
Parset in battle once, I recalled. But I had not been bound, and I had been armed. Celendra’s gag, and
her chald, were no longer upon her.
     Sereth swung upon Krist, and that beast only stood, proud and wise, beneath his master’s well-loved
weight. Sereth stroked him briefly, speaking low to those back-turned ears, then brought him up on my
left. Lalen, riding some brown threx, a male of good size, joined us. There were perhaps twenty left
within the circle of Jaheil’s appreis.
     “Shall we see to the fruitfulness of the soil, Sereth?” Chayin broke the silence, his face colored with
dawnftre. Not waiting for answer, he wheeled Saer and was gone.
     “As best we can,” the Ebvrasea rejoined, turning Krist’s head to follow.
     So we came out onto the plain of Astria, and the forming three yras made way for us through their
midst. Once, such a war would have been fought upon Silistra with a hundred men for every one of our
seventy-one. In those times, we were of formi-dable number. Now, in the north, no more than fourteen
are ever joined on a commission. Upon the plain of Astria, we were very many, our seventy-one.
     Formed, the tiasks upon the outside, a swathe of picked men bisecting the circle, we moved south.
Slowly did that circle move. Even slower for us in the midst of it. I counted my breaths, and they were
precious. Harness creaked and jingled, hoof falls cadenced my heart. The sky was tiered fire, between
clouds like racked blades. Bloody was that sun’s rising into the greening sky, like a reflec-tion from the
chaos to come.
     Hemmed in as he was, Guanden gave me little trouble. As I bent to set my razor-moons, I saw
Sereth’s sidelong scrutiny. Upon my other side, the right, was Chayin. The cahndor smiled to himself, his
body rolling with Saer’s stride. Before us was Jaheil’s red threx, and Wiraal upon a gray. Behind came
Lalen and Nineth, in crackling tension. They had apparently been acquainted previously. I wondered
briefly how Aje the crell had fared at the hands of Nineth, tinskchan. Then I forgot them.
     At a place indistinguishable to me from any other upon the plain, Chayin roared his force to a halt.
Scattered here and there were some few stands of trees, but none within a quarter-nera. Approxi-mately
that distance behind lay the appreis.
     In that circle, he held them. We faced every direction, silent, ready. Blades took the sun’s rays. The
new day sparked off Sereth’s cloak, off the Shaper’s spiral.
     I twisted in my saddle, marking what the men watched in the, lightening day. Over the greening plains
of Astria they swept, surely thrice our number, a band of dark shapes. Before battle is joined is a time
that moves most slowly. One’s pulsebeats might be bells tolling enths. We watched them come, at full
speed, across the plain.
     I remember the smell of the air, heavy with moisture. Of the threx and leathers and steel, and of our
battle sweat upon us. My palms wept. I wiped them continually upon my thighs. The hilt of the
straight-blade I carried was comforting, warm. I stared at them, at the mist above their heads.
     When they were close enough that the banner of Menetph, and of Coseve, Itophe, and Nemar,
could be seen, and their threx’ hooves roared like the Falls of Santha, Chayin shouted his men ready.
And shouted again, as he twisted in Saer’s saddle. His desert-trained eyes had detected them, even
before the watchful tiasks; Slayers, perhaps a hundred, fell upon us from the east.
     Bursting from the circle’s forward edge, the tiasks doubled themselves easterly, that, they might meet
the northern men. Up from west of south came the army of Hael, of Omas of Coseve and Locaer of
Itophe, and they were uncountable.
     As the first wave hit us, Parsets screaming, threx squealing, the sky turned to deepest night. Blades
flashed unseen, men and beasts roared in terror, and the battle was joined. I screamed too, amidst my
protectors, thinking I had gone blind. There was no moon in that night, only the stars, glitter-ing cold
upon us,
     Guanden thrashed and heaved under me, wrench—
     ing my arms. I heard the weapons of the out-edged men, whirring. Screaming, the circle split. Upon
code word in the darkness, Chayin’s force, blind, opened before the slayers, who drove through us
toward Hael’s attacking throng.
     For a moment, all thought flown from me, I struggled to hold Guanden in that shadowy corri-dor of
death. Behind me surged the first of Hael’s vanguard; before the oncoming Slayers. “Estri!” I heard, and
searched the voice in the darkness even as I whirled Guanden from between them. So close did I come
to my ending there, in that battle deafness, that I saw the eyes of the first Slayers gleam, and Guanden’s
rear took a glancing sword cut. Into our-ranks Guanden plunged, our people closing around me. I had
time to sink a razor-moon, then another, and then someone grabbed Guanden’s head. I almost cut the
hand away, be-fore I saw it was Lalen.
     “There!” he shouted. I went, reining Guanden, reeling between the fighting men. Out of the dark a
threx’ head came, teeth huge and dripping. I closed my eyes and brought my blade down. It squealed
and was gone. Lalen’s threx, upon my left, skittered beside us, flesh shield. His blade sang above my
head; even did he thrust it between my breasts and Guanden’s plunging neck. To the far edge he headed
me, where Chayin and Hael fought off from the rest, their beasts upon their hind legs. One glimpse I had,
as the sky exploded in flashing sheets of colored lightning—Chayin, with Hies head, Sereth, his blade
raised’in mid-stroke, against four.
     Then the dark, and a new blinding: light. From the fiber of the sky it came, roaring a roar that made
men drop their blades and put hands to their ears, that made threx bolt, oblivious of their riders.
Raet/Uritheria. The height of the highest tower of Astria it was, flapping great wings trans—
     lucent in the sky. Then stronger. Seething noncol-ored light, the atoms of creation in it not yet cooled,
it opened its great fanged mouth and turned its singeing breath upon the struggling men. Its clawed feet
grabbed riders from their saddles. Its wings made gales that blew threx from their feet. I smelled flesh
burning. Hair, crisped to ash, floated upon the air.
     Guanden threw me from his back in his terror, as if I never existed. I lay where I had fallen, oblivious
to the hooves raking the sod around me. I fought for breath.
     And found it. Found myself. Rolled upon my back, to see the sky. A shadow fell over me—Lalen,
dismounted, his steel flying in my defense. He strad-dled me. I sought Wirur, winged hulion, great fanged
carnivore, where he held court in the sky, and he was there for me. I called my fate, and in my sight
between those stars that made him, a million new stars came into being. More, and the battle faded.
Bone, for a moment, framework of bone in the sky, and then I was there.
     I peered down through my slitted eyes upon the plain of Astria, twitching my tufted ears to the sound
of men dying, of roasted threx, of Raet and his cacophony of death. Then I saw him, my enemy, and I
breathed breath of acid ice from my nostrils upon the land. I tore myself, with a great wrench of muscles,
from the firmament. Behind me, a keen-ing, began as what was not time and space rushed through that
hole. I growled to myself, at first wing’s flap, as my hulion quarters tensed to take spring upon the earth.
Those horny pads of mine touched dead and dying, crushed them as they froze to tinkling ice shards.
     Raet/Uritheria saw me, raised gory head upon sinuous neck. The men and threx were as yits, upon
which we stepped. Uritheria rose up from his play. I opened wide my fanged mouth and jumped for him,
ice-breath before me, Meeting flame, combusting. His great leathered wings snapped under my
stiff-spread paws. Claws dug, into those useless wings, my own flapping for balance. I sought his neck.
Closed upon air. Writhing, twisting, screaming, he turned his head, straining, to snap at my throat. I was
not truly quick enough. I felt his, burning teeth, deep. Enraged, I tore my flesh from his bite and screamed
into those eyes. Blinded, the ice crystals that were once orbs glittered upon his scintillant scales. A roar of
pain singed me; knives in my ears made me wish deafness. Those great jaws closed upon my shoulder. I
twisted back my head, and bit out Uritheria’s throat, He quiv-ered, his teeth grinding upon my bones.
The roar-ing became a gurgling, the gurgling a pulse. He did not fall. He faded. His jaws locked upon me
in his death throes. I stood, looking around me, until those teeth were out of my shoulder, back where
they belonged reformed into the space they once had been. I licked my chest. It pained me.
Raet/Uri-theria faded, his substance sucked up by the con-tinuum from which it had been stolen.
     From my great height, calmly I observed the tiny men, all fallen, upon the place that had been the
plain of Astria. It was a different place; the night-day-sky here flickered undecided, and, sometimes the
day was no Silistran day. Upon their backs and stomachs the fallen rolled and crawled, the ground
heaving under them. A great circle, some hundred neras in diameter, had my standing place as center.
And beyond it—a sharp drop—lay the rest of the Silistran lands. And I knew, though I had not seen it,
that those edges were sheer and clean, and devoid of life. Whatever had stood there, stood no longer,
destroyed by the convergence of alternate, planes—Astria had not come back to time-space, fully. The
hole that with its suction had brought about this disjoint in time still wailed.
     The sky raged with storms of light. The men screamed and cried and called upon their gods, for each
had been dragged from sequential time. They cowered, the bravest of them, at the cold. The atoms of
their being had been hurled from one universe to another, and there is great pain in that returning. I felt
sorry for them. Almost gone was Raet/Uritheria. In my throat I felt a rumbling growl of pleasure. I sniffed
his preset -fee, what was left of it. A great, concussive explosion filled the sky with white light, then
another, off near the north star. I purred to myself when I realized how far into space the disruption
extended. Far enough. Any-thing coming upon those convergent alternatives would be translated into
energy, the constituents of which are the common denominator of life.
     I lowered my head, that I might see how they fared, the little ones, when Raet/Uritheria no longer
bound me there with his jaws. I saw my body. and it called. With a farewell it could not hear, I let my
rightful place, that hole yet to be plugged, take me.
     Easier than descending, it was, fitting back into that space between the stars. I licked my damaged
shoulder once. My tufted ear tasted star breath, my tail flicked into place. And the keening of the rupture
ceased, settling the balance once more.
     My shoulder hurt terribly. I tried to rise. I could not move my arm. Pain made my sight grainy with
red dots. When I could, I closed my eyes, that they might not burn and tear, And then the—rain began. I
felt it, falling sharp upon me, bouncing. Sluggish, I tried to think what it could be. Through my pain, I
realized only that ... that I could not think. Eyes closed, the pelting of sharpness upon me, I struggled to
my knees, and to my one good arm’s support. I wondered dully if I could crawl with only one arm. Then
I wondered where I would crawl.
     Eyes, open for me! They did so, grudging. The ground I saw, beneath my dangling head. And upon
it, a dozen small crystals, glowing apulse on the grass. Helsars. A rain of helsars, as the shifting edges of
time-space rubbed each other in their settling.
     With what little strength I could muster, I raised my head. The plain of Astria was ablaze with them.
Atop the bodies, men moaned and murmured to their wounds. Women crawled about upon their hands
and knees. In places, threx stood, four legs spread wide, weaving. And some helsars, I saw, those
brightest glowing, had already found their pupils. So many. Enough for the whole of Astria. _I began,
slowly and without understanding, to crawl through them. It was a hobbled crawl, upon only one arm,
over dead and dying, and some who fondled helsars even in their pain. All of these had been where one
must go, and returned to claim what they had created there. No helsar attached itself to me. One, and
only one, is the rule.
     But I did not understand that, as the day came once again upon the plain of Astria. I only crawled, in
my pain, among the wounded. The sod, torn up, was muddy with the blood of man and beast, and my
good hand was covered with a gory clay. What I sought, I did not know until I found it. All I knew was
the ground, still heaving under me. It threw me to my back a dozen times, like some unbroken threx. It
made the helsars jitter and dance upon the, grass. It made women, even men, cry in fear. That and the
wind: deracou, perhaps, is as strong. It ripped at us, pushing the weak down to the ground. It pelted men
with helsars; certain men, certain helsars.
     My knees were bruised and torn. In my shoulder were great toothmarks; in places my flesh was
chewed pulp. At one point I stopped and regarded it. It occurred to me that I must stop the bleeding.
     I did so, and was too exhausted to do more. Then I crawled on.
     I put my good hand upon a dead man’s chest, riddled with arrows I had not seen fly. I looked at the
face that was not there. I shuddered, seeing the vacant stump of the man’s neck. He wore upon him a
green device. I stared at it, thinking, of why I should mark it. Some of my fog lifted from me then. It was
the device of Coseve; more, of its cahndor. And I crawled over the body of yellow-eyed Omas of
Coseve, whose head lay nowhere about.
     Then only did I seek Sereth. I screamed his name across the plain. None answered me. ‘I found
strength, to rise to my feet, and stumbled among them, the wounded and the dead. Up ahead were threx,
a dozen of them, still standing. I ran there, hoping, crying, calling Sereth’s name over and over.
     It was by the threx, they were. Chayin, leaning upon Saer, heavily, cut in a hundred places, his cloak
gone, torn for bandage. At his feet were three heads, disembodied. A little way from him, Jaheil bent
over Celendra. His left arm was in a sling wet with blood. He turned his head at my stumbling approach.
The cahndor of Dordassa had no left eye. I screamed, and put my good hand to my mouth, biting it.
     For I saw him. He lay face down on the grass, the Shaper’s cloak still upon him. Krist stood with all
four feet over him, his eyes rolling, froth dripping red from his mouth. The beast was badly injured. A
broken sword hilt protruded from his chest.
     “Estri!” Chayin croaked, reaching out a hand to stop me. He staggered toward me, forgoing Saer’s
support, and had barely the strength to hold me back.
     “The beast is crazed. Let him be. Sereth is dying; he would not want to see you pummeled before his
eyes.” I could feel Chayin wavering. His voice was husked with pain.
     “No! He is not! I will not allow it!” I screamed, and tore myself from his grasp. He looked at me,
shrugged, and limped painfully to Saer. He leaned there, tears unashamed upon him, watching.
     , “Krist,” I called softly, extending my good hand. “Krist; it is me. Estri. Let me help him. Let me see
him.” And it was not what I said, but the tone, and my mind-touch, what little there was to spare. Krist
snorted and tossed his head. He let his bared teeth come together, cocked his head to me. He extended
his great-jowled jaws, &din which his reins dangled. I scratched him, as I had seen Sereth do, where
neck meets head. He groaned pitifully, snuffled my hand. “Sssh,” I told him. “It will be over soon.” For
that valiant beast, it would be over within the enth.
     But he let me back him from his stance over Sereth. At his master’s feet, Krist was content to stand,
his brave head raised, ever watchful.
     I was beside him, upon my knees. His face was to me. With my left hand, my good one, I brushed
his blood-matted hair from his eyes. They were open.
     “Estri,” he said softly. He coughed. “Little one, come here.” And he raised his arm, that I might be
under it, against him. I saw what wound he had sustained.
     “Sereth,” I sobbed, “oh, please, no.” And I crawled into the shelter of his arm, against his
blood-soaked side.
     “Do not be sad,” he said. “The sun is again upon the land.”. And he kissed my temple, and his eyes
closed. Pressed to him, I shook with loss. I could not breathe; my chest choked me, my guts froze into a
tight fist. And I went into him, with all I had. Of my diminished life force, I gave him all there was. I turned
him, somehow, and pounded upon his chest, and gave until all I saw were gray shadows before me. Until
I could no longer hold my body upright. As I fell forward, atop him, in the grayness I heard voices,
somewhere above.
     “There they are! Take them!”
     And something shimmered toward me out of the mist.

IX. “I Am the Hest and the Sort”
     It hurt, very much, whatever they were doing. I could not see. My whole head seemed constrained.
Sound other than breathing was muffled, and breathing itself was a great effort. My shoulder, surely,
would soon consume me.
     A time later, when the pain lessened, I sensed my body, upon something soft. I heard voices then,
but no words. With my mind, I tried to get a sense of my surroundings, and shrank back, a scream in my
throat. If one had raised up a molten sword hilt, dropped it, and tried to use the same hand again to grasp
the red-hot hilt, the anguish might have been similar. A cold began to grow within me as I knew the
silence for what it was. I began to assess my damages, needlessly. I felt hands upon me. Nothing else.
No glimmer of to whom or what those hands might belong. Deaf, dumb, and blind I was. Those eyes,
ears, and tongue that are mind’s had been burned badly. Perhaps even burned away.
     The knowledge still remained. One cannot see without eyes, though one knows how to see. One
must have data to interpret. My shoulder did not hurt at all.
     Once before, I whispered to myself, I had been without my skills. Upon Mi’ysten, in the cubes, I had
been so stricken. It had passed. I tried to speak aloud, and found I could not. Then I began to remember
how I came to such a pass, and shrank back into unconsciousness.
     And came up screaming Sereth’s name. A hand pressed, muffling, over my mouth. I could not see:
     a cloth was bound around my head. It came to me that I was supported, upright.
     “Will you be still?” I heard. I nodded. The hand was removed.
     “Walk, if you can,” the voice said. Upon either side of me were hands; bodies, men surely.
     Staggering, I tried. The supporting arms kept me upright. There was no pain whatsoever in my
shoulder. I could get no sense of where I was, or how long it had taken to arrive here. I saw no sort I
could not choose. I merely grabbed tight to con-sciousness and struggled with my weakened body.
Twice my companions changed direction. In those moments, my ears, straining, detected more than three
pairs of feet. My need sent to me to try my skills once more—I sought Sereth. The pain was
excruciating. I sagged between those who held me. They did not slacken their pace, but dragged me with
them.
     There was a scuffling behind us.
     “Hold still, savage!” I heard. Then a grunt, then only footfalls, and the whisper of bodies moving. My
heart lightened. Both voices I knew. The Ebvrasea lived. This place was the Lake of Horns, doubtless.
The voice that had spoken was that of Carth. His peculiar lilt was unmistakable. Carth, arrar to the
dharen of Silistra, would surely take my part, if he could.
     And I understood my blinders. Mere Silistrans do not walk in the dharener’s city. The high ones lived
here. Those who never go about in the land, those shadowy, almost mythical figures who rule those who
rule Day-Keepers, reigned here. And Carth had said to me: seek him when I came to this place. I had
thought it some special invitation, in thanks for his freedom.
     We stopped. There was motion before me, a mov-ing about. A gentle hint of air crossed my cheek.
Then my guards, for that they were, moved forward.
     Five hundred and three steps before they stopped once again. Their hands were no longer upon me.
I stood alone. I reached up to free my eyes, and none obstructed me.
     My first sight was blurry, from lids pressed tight too long. The room was seven-cornered, of
blue-black northern thala. Light came from tiny fire-balls like miniature suns that floated near the vaulted
ceiling. That ceiling was of hammered gold, soft and ruddy, gleaming.
     I squinted at the figure before me, and slowly it took focus. I rubbed my unmarked shoulder.
     “I am Khys,” said the first male of my own race I had ever seen. His red-gold skin shone softly; his
eyes had the fathers’ fire in them. His hair was copper, thick-waved strands that just brushed his wide,
black-robed shoulders. He wore no ornament but a weighty ‘chald, within which was woven ev-ery
strand attainable upon Silistra.
     No I said shaking my head. I could not move. With the barest narrowing of his eyes, he held me still.
If I could have moved, I would have bitten his throat out. I hated him upon first sight, that intolerably
perfect mate for whom Estrazi intended me.
     “Yes,” he corrected, looking clown through eyes as old as Silistra. He had Estrazi’s size and build,
but with some subtle difference. Never would I let such a one touch me. I would’ die, first.
     “You do not have that choice. Be silent.” I had not spoken aloud. I tried to quiet my thoughts. A
shield was beyond me. I could not move, but he had left me able to speak. “Little savage, I need not
restrain you, if you will restrain yourself.”
     He looked at me, dropped his hold .. Then, only, could I peer around me and see where I stood. In
the center of that strange room, upon the glyph of the Shapers, was I. I saw Chayin, with Carth. And
Sereth, between two massive guards. His hands were bound behind. Thee wound that should have killed
him was dressed with clean bandages. Other than that, he wore only breech. He leaned heavily upon his
guards, but he lived. I went to him. Carth, who held Chayin, caught my arm and returned me to the
glyph’s center, facing Khys, dharen of Silistra.
     “Be careful,” Carth whispered as he caught me.
     “Once more,” said the dharen when I again stood before him, “and you will have no choice.” In pain
that sank me to my knees, I struck out at him with my hate. He laughed. Only a muscle near his right eye
twitched. A tiny sun appeared between us and floated to the ceiling.
     “A threx, when she sees a potential mate, tries to outrun him. You have been outrun. Failing that, she
might try to outwit him. You have been outwitted. Escape denied her, she must try his strength. But
lightly, for he might be strong enough to destroy her. I had gotten, shaking, to my feet. He knelt me. I did
not kneel. He knelt me.
     “At the last, if she would live to bear the young that is her purpose, she becomes docile. Consider it.
Stay there!” And he surveyed Chayin and Sereth.
     “So I have you at last,” he said, deep and soft. “The barbarians and the bait.” He motioned his men
back from us, a movement bespeaking unlim-ited command, from one long-accustomed.
     He turned his fiery gaze upon Chayin.
     “What have you to say for yourself, Cahndor? You ra.ngefar afield with your slaughter. You have
looted my best Well. You have killed a dharener.” Khys waited, hands at the chald slung about his robed
hips. Directly behind him was a dark-curtained window.
     Chayin regarded him a moment in silence.
     “I did what the time demanded of me. I will do more, for you will not obstruct me.” He held his head
high. ‘These people are under my protection!” Khys chuckled, mirthless.
     “Do not be naive, Cahndor. With Raet no longer in the south, I have no need to tread softly there.
Within—a pass, there will be no southern dhareners, no temples to Tar-Kesa. There will be Wells, and
uniform chaldra. I will have access to those genetic strengths Raet has so long withheld from me. If you
rule again, you will do it as my agent. And you will leave here as such, or not at all.
     “All of you”—he lashed those eyes across us—“have done more than you know. That you have
survived shows you possibly worth saving. You are mine to dispose of as I like.
     “Dumb animals, savages, you are. You do not even now know what you have accomplished. You
but did my will. I am the hest and the sort. You stand before me with your petty guilts in vainglori-ous
delusion!
     “Estri Hadrath diet Estrazi, daughter of the Shaper!” He snapped my breath from me. “You were
born where we could not, dared not touch you. Such blood as yours is not wasted upon barbarians! All
that has happened to you, your great-grand-mother foretold. Even that gave you no insight.”
     I just looked at him dumbly.
      “Perhaps you will never understand,” he said pityingly. “Maturing you as he did, demented,
depraved, was part of what had to be done. A trap, you were, one Estrazi set to catch gods!”
      I could only look at him.
      “He set you where we could not touch you. After he had not spread his seed upon Silistra in two
thousand years, he came and left one child. He knew it would concern us, and what we would do, up to
a point. But I did not, as he hoped, contest with Raet for you. When first I approached you, Raet
obstructed me. He had been obstructing me since hide days. It was he who drove us to the hides in the
first place!” His triumph was obvious. His eyes sparked as he talked.
      “How carefully Estrazi set his construction. Only such as you could have served. It was his
ambiva-lence that destroyed Raet.”
      “I do not understand you,” I said.
      “Not only were you bait for Raet’s downfall, you were marked for minel Should I have taken you, as
you were, with those great unbridled strengths of yours, I would surely have fallen to whatever he has in
mind for me.”
      “My father is not as you say.”
      “We war for the space worlds, little savage. The experiment has proved too successful, not
in-sufficient. We are strong, effective, and differ-ent. Our conception reaches out among the planes. Time
and space are no longer easily controllable from without. The fathers will not destroy us directly. The
moment when we could be unmade has passed.”
      “He used me to show us worthy.”
      “He used you to take Raet’s interest, to draw him to you. You were his test, and he failed it. Mine
too, you are, it seems. But Estrazi will not draw me into his hest.”
      “You fool yourself,” I said softly.
      “You speak to me of fools? Do you know even the triumph due you? That Astria abounds with
helsars, and hundreds, eventually thousands, will take those teachings—do you know that?”
      I bowed my, head, staring at the glyphed floor.
      “Do you know that you have neatly terminated at the sprouting all our troubles with M’ksakka? They
sit and, quake, wondering how we destroyed those ships. They will send their apologies. When we
allowed them access to Silistra, it was with full knowledge that in your struggle with Raet you would
teach them their place.” I remembered the two great flashes of light, in deep space near the north star
Clous. I shivered, clutched myself, think—
      ing how long ago it was that M’ksakkans had first set foot upon Silistra.
      “You will be lauded, as Astria predicted. They will pilgrimage to the helsars in your name. And more.
Yet you are nothing, only a tool, almost useless now. Nothing that you have done was other than we
planned for you. Both your paltry hest, and your father’s, we turned to our purpose.”
      I looked up at him, tears in my eyes.
      “We will see what might be done with you, if something may be salvaged. It is not my custom to
waste such blood as you carry in your veins.” A chill amusement touched his face, disappeared, leaving
only the hauteur.
      “Not while I live,” I said softly to him.
      “You will think differently soon enough, when your mind is cleared of the rot within it. And he turned
his eyes upon Sereth.
      “Outlaw, you are my greatest problem. I cannot exonerate you of your crimes, much as I respect
your abilities. The splitting of those troops, their deployment, the archers at just the right moment,
when—you reformed behind and out of range—you are perhaps the most valuable of all. But I valued
Vedrev, whom you killed.”
      Sereth raised his head. He was pale beneath his tan, his hair still matted with dried blood.
      “If, as you say”—he spoke in barely a whisper—“we did only your will, and served you so valuably,
I have certain observations I might make.”
      “Make them,” said the dharen.
      ‘:If you sent a hundred Slayers onto the plain of Astria, ,knowing all would die, if you let Estri stand
alone before that power without moving to aid her, if you let Celendra rule in Astria and Vedrev falsely
accuse me, then it is not she, but you, who are demented. What you do with me now should be an easy
decision. What is one life, to one who spends life like copper dippars?” And he met the dharen’s gaze,
unwavering.
      “You,” said Khys at last, “of all of them, most perplex me. In Estri there is a Shaper heritage, Chayin
bears the blood of Raet—both of them strong infusions. In you there is only a mixing of low
concentration. And yet you stand with them, on firm, footing. I might offer your arrogande up as reason
for your death. But I will not. I will offer you the arrar’s chald, in trade for your name. And justice will be
served.” Sereth shifted his weight. The chains upon his wrists rustled.
      “I do not understand,” said Sereth. The arrar, chald of the messenger, is given to so few that until
Carth I had never met a man who bore one.
      “I cannot pardon Sereth Grill Tyris, the Ebvrasea. I might give a man, Sereth, a chance to come into
my service. None who bear the arrar may retain ties to their past. They bear every chald given upon
Silistra. They must be free of factionalism. Such a man bears only his given name.” Tight lines shadowed
Khys’s jaws as he spoke.
      “I could even part with that,” said Sereth . cautiously. “I cannot say yet. I need time to think.”
      “You shall have it.” He smiled graciously, copper-gold, glorious. I detested him.
      “What of my woman?” Sereth asked.
      Wrinkles came upon Khys’s wide forehead. His arched brows drew together.
      “Surely, after all you have heard here, you can-not still delude yourself that you might be allowed to
breed such a female?” Even as Sereth’s body stiffened, I could feel Khys’s restraint flash out.
      “Take him,” said the dharen abruptly, “where he may rethink his position. You!” He whirled upon
me. “Stay there!”
      I stayed, upon the glyph of Khys’s defiance, on my knees, while they dragged Sereth out. He did not
truly struggle, but he did not move with them.
      And there were just Chayin and I, and Carth. And the dharen.
      “Unbind him,” Khys ordered. Carth freed Chay-in’s wrists. He rubbed them. His rana-colored skin
was covered with half-healed wounds. I could see the membranes snapping agitatedly back and forth. I
still, knelt upon the Shaper’s glyph. My limbs trembled uncontrollably, kneeling there in the great empty
seven-cornered hall.
      “I would ask a thing, dharen,” Chayin said. “Ask it.”
      “You called me Raet’s son? Is that true? And Hael—what of him?”
      “He was not, though he would have given all to be. The hate he had for you stemmed from that. He
was priest of your father. You had the blood, the skills, not he. Raet realized, when he chose as he did,
what tensions could be catalyzed. Hael served him well. I would have a hundred such.” The dharen
rubbed his long-fingered hands together.
      “That is why, then.” And I knew he meant the curse his gifts had been upon him.
      “When I have a male child from her, you may put spawn upon her also I would be interested in the
get of such a union.”
      Chayin rubbed his neck. His eyes flickered. He walked the three steps to me and touched my head. I
looked up at him. His face was pained. He squatted down upon his heels and put his hands upon my
arms, kneading.
      “You know there is nothing I can do to aid you, Estri,” he said, very low.
      I looked at him, at his darkness, at his distress. And yet, between them they discussed me like some
threx in heat. I had no doubt Khys could put an unwanted child upon me. Once I might have ob-structed
him. No longer.
      “Cahndor,” I said, toneless, “do what you will. I
      would as soon your get as any other I am likely to bear. They breed crells in Nemar.”
      “Estri, please.” He pulled me to him, pressed his face close.
      “Chayin, if one has no control of one’s life, there is left only the way we choose to meet what comes.
Put a child upon me, if you will. I will be whatever he has made me, by then. It will not matter. Per-haps I
will recollect myself, at your hands.” And I did not understand what I said then. Khys did, and he looked
at me sharply, his handsome face drawn tight and hard.
     The cahndor released me, slowly getting to his feet.
     “I would be honored,” he said. “Doubtless it would be easier for her than with a stranger.”
     But Khys was not listening. From his robe he pulled a glowing circlet. Holding it between his
fingertips, he came toward me.
     “Please,” I begged him, kneeling frozen, at his pleasure. He caused my hand to raise the hair from my
neck, that he might have ease putting the band upon me. My mind screamed and struggled, but, my body
obeyed him perfectly, without ques-tion.
     “Please,” I said again. He knelt and closed the band upon my neck. It was tight. He touched it, and it
became tighter. Such a band I had worn upon Mi’ysten, that I might not be pulled from one sequential
time to another. There, it had been done for my safety. I had thought myself bereft of talent. In the greater
silence precursed by the tingling of the band tight upon my neck, I knew I had not been.
     “I cannot have you setting such bests. You will set no more.” And his fine-chiseled features were
devoid of emotion.
     “My hand still holds my hair,” I reminded him as he rose from me. He let me lower it. I thought I
would surely go mad.
     Khys smiled. “You will find the band easier. And though I could hold you indefinitely by will, I need
not now waste my attention. Your experience upon Mi’ysten had not prepared you for our bands of
stabilization. Great power demands powerful restraint.”
     I touched my fingers to it, and felt the raised pattern upon the warm, vibrating metal. Through that
barrier, a circuit breaker, if you will, nothing would pass from me. I could not, as I might have if my
strengths returned to me, remove myself from the Lake of Horns. Nor even find some alternate I might
bring into the time, where Khys would be less dominant. I might have been tempted to try even that. But
now I could nod:—That tiny hest I had set was my only hope. I clung to it.
     “I will not obstruct you,” I pleaded, my hands still at my throat. I could not get my fingers be-neath
the obdurate metal.
     “I hear you,” he reminded me. “And when I hear what pleases me, I will remove it.”
     And my hate, flared again. Khys laughed. Miser-able, I realized, even as I tried to quench it, what
hearing he meant.
     “Cahndor,” said Khys, “my man will show you to the quarters I have had prepared for you You will
find your helsar there. Only acquaint yourself with it. We will take a meal later.”
     “Am I a prisoner?” Chayin asked him, Carth’s—hand upon his arm.
     “Thal is up to you. Prisoner or honored guest—your choice. When your time is upon you, we might
aid you with the helsar. There is much you could learn here.”
     But I may not leave?” Chayin’s body was stiff and straight in the light of those tiny suns. “Not at this
time, no,” Khys said, and waved his hand. The cahndor had been dismissed. For a moment, Chayin
hesitated, as if he might speak. Then he turned and walked meekly beside Carth through wide double
doors of black thala.
     “Now,” said Khys, as Carth closed the doors softly; “you may speak your questions, and I will
answer them.” And the dharen of Silistra sat him-self down cross-legged before me. I knew not what to
ask. I looked at that powerful frame, and could not believe my mind’s assessment of his age. He hovered
at that indeterminate point, like Sereth and Chayin, a mature male in his prime.
     “You cannot be that Khys,” I said.
     He smiled, not unkindly, revealing perfect teeth.
     “I walked the Parset Lands when deracou blew all the enths of the day, before the Parsets
sepa-rated themselves from us. I have seen the dead sea there when its tide was up, before it ivas boiled
away:.
     “I would not live so long,” I said, chilled.
     “It has its compensations. One hears the breath-ing of the changing climes.”
     “What will you do with me?” I could smell him, and it was a strange smell, from his flesh, but oddly
familiar. My knees ached. I sought to move them from under me.
     “Stay! Whatever I please, Shaper’s daughter, I will do.’’
     “And with Sereth?”
     “I have given him a choice.” The dharen shrugged. “I have his helsar. I have him. Eventually, he will
serve me.”
     “And if he does not?”
     “I can, if I must, instill in him such loyalty as I might choose. Eventually, he will serve me.” His molten
eyes narrowed, those long, thick lashes almost obscuring them.
     “If you were to show him mercy,” I whispered, “it could be a bridge over what lies between us.”
     “I need not bargain with you, little savage. You have not even the most meager understanding of your
position. Stand up.”
     And I was quick to obey him, lest he stand me. My nails bit into my palms. 1 kept my clenched fists
at my sides. My skin crawled at his touch. I stood very still, but my mind’s despair and loath-ing I could
not quell.
     “Soon enough, you will not even recall such emotions,” he said, encircling me with one arm. He
guided me thusly to that curtained window and drew those dark hangings back.
     Into the audience chamber poured the warm summer sun, glistening upon the clear green wa-ters of
the Lake of Horns. And upon those graceful, sinuous buildings that make up the dharener’s city, all white
and gleaming, did the sun shine. Wide walks threaded around the lake, and upon them I saw men and
women strolling. And hulions. Hulions pad the streets of the dharener’s city. They do the bidding of those
who rule it. How greatly I had shortchanged those winged beasts, in my concep-tion.
     The city sits in a great forested valley, curled around the lake like a necklace of helsars. At the tip of
the most easterly horn lies the dharen’s keep, wherein I am kept. From my chamber, I see that same
view, albeit from a slightly higher elevation.
     Khys spoke long to me that day of what con-cerned him. He spoke of the fathers, and their history.
Why he did so, I do not know. I will have lost it all, soon enough. I found, when I awoke this morning,
that I did not know where I was. I shook upon my padded couch, sifting through what was left of my
memories. My first two hundred years have slipped almost totally beyond my recall. I wonder if I will
lose even the ability to read and write. I sorted through my pages, when I found them, as if they were the
work of a stranger. And they reminded me. There is no one truth. Khys lies!
     I had begged.him, after he talked the sun to its rest that day, to let me write, in my confinement.
     “Estrazi allowed that I might send him a mes-sage,” I said softly to him, as we watched the sun set
over the lush forests. “If I must sit so long in one place, it would give me something to do.”
     The thought amused him. He stroked his jaw reflectively.
     “That would be the final touch!” he said at last. “But I doubt that you will have long enough to put
down any extended missive. The damage you did yourself with all that uris is only beginning to affect
you.13urned synapses, I am afraid, are beyond my powers. New paths will replace the old. It will not be
painful,” he added as I looked at him in horror, though I had glimpsed it when I spoke with Chayin.
“What you have been will fade from you.”
     And I retreated from him until the window pressed against my back. Crying, I pleaded with him. He
stopped me. When I at length regained control of my emotions, he gave back to me my body’s
command.
     “Let me see Sereth,” I asked him, over that elegant table upon which a most delectable meal had
been set.
     “You have hardly touched your food,” the dharen said. Chayin, beside me, only played with the
sauced, spiced denter before him. We had exchanged no word, the cahndor and 1, since the meal began.
     I turned myself to my plate, lest he force the food upon me. Never in my life had I feared any-thing as
I feared his command of my limbs.
     When I had cleaned it, he motioned Carth, who had stood the whole time behind him.
     I went with him, docile, unspeaking, out those double doors and up two flights of some unfamil-iar
stone.
     The chamber in which the dharen keeps me is soft and resilient. I cannot hurt myself. The couch is a
barely raised dais, with no hard edges. A play of golden light is ever across these pale green walls, even
at night. My couch has no covers, with which I could strangle myself. I have a window, which does not
open, barred by golden light, beyond which my hand cannot pass, lest I find some way to shatter it.
     The door, also, is thickly upholstered. Upon the inside of it is no handle or knob.       _
     Carth has my care. He feeds me, and takes me out of the room twice daily to bathe and attend my
needs. Those trips are my only exercise. I never see the dharen.
     But I believe he sees me, he and his six brethren. In my dreams I have met them.
     At first, I thought it could not come. I lay long enths thinking of Sereth, of what had been be-tween
us. Surely, I thought, my memories of him will not, pass from me. The scars, I thought, are too deep.
What could have been ours, had we what others take so lightly—time and each other, and some shadow
of a life together? Upon any scales of judgment, we deserved at least that.
     Last night I lay, touching, myself, as has become my habit, that I might imagine us once again
together. And I got hardly a sense of him.
     Carth told me yesterday that he would come for this account today, that I was to finish it. I read what
I have written, and it recalled to me certain things: the way his hair falls over his eyes, the way he tosses
his head like some defiant threx, one glimpse of his dark-tanned hand upon my breast. I
     will hold to those memories. I will not lose myself. I will not forget Sereth, whom I love.
     Khys, in his arrogance, will surely pass this to you, my father. If, in your wisdom, you choose to
withhold me your aid, then perhaps I will come to understand, in the fullness of time. Now I do not
understand. I have seen brother turned against brother and the very fabric of time and space rent
asunder. I have seen such carnage as I never dreamed could come to be. And if I have gainsaid your will,
it was not by empty defiance, but out of need.
     I have remembered that which you said to me, upon the red sea’s floor. In it, I have found some
small comfort.
     Khys will fall afoul of his pretensions, as we all do.
     And I? No matter what he tries to make me, I am still my father’s daughter.

Postscript
      Today is Detarsa first first, 25,696. Last evening, I met the dharen, at a celebration in my honor, that
of my birthday. Of course, it ’is an arbitrary date Carth set, for my true date of birth is unknown.
      At Carth’s bidding, I write this.
      “Set down,” he said to me yesterday—mid-meal, “a short piece about yourself: who you are, what
you are, what today will bring you.” Carth is my teacher. He was, until last evening, the only man I had
ever seen close at hand.
      When I was found wandering the forests, I was chaldless, naked, bereft of memory. I could not
speak a sentence in one language. My speech was a jumble of a hundred tongues, and quite
unintelli-gible.
      I do not remember, of course. Carth told me. My first memory is of him standing over me in this
Very room. And I was crouched in the corner, speak-ing as he described, terrified. We have come a
long way, Carth and I.
      We could not, alas, piece together the fragments of my past. Who and what I was remains a mystery.
Carth has warned me of prying too deeply, lest whatever I will not remember rise up again and wipe out
all I have learned.
      And I have learned much, these last months: history, philosophy, politics, chaldra, languages. Carth
says someday I will be very powerful. I will be trained as a forereader. I might even bear the arrar’s
chald.
      Upon my neck I wear a band that keeps those powers in check, until I am skilled enough to use
them. Without it, Carth has assured me, I would die.
      It is not unattractive. In the mirror upon my chamber wall, it glows soft with light, setting off my
copper skin with its gleaming. Last evening I wore a soft drape of gold metallic, to meet the dharen. It
was an elegant garment, much different from the sleeveless thigh-length skim I usually wear.
     I was excited, dressing. My fingers shook as I fastened the clips at my shoulders. I wondered what
he would be like, if he would find me attractive. I have read extensively his writings. Much of what he has
written is still beyond me. I sighed a trembling breath, arranging my copper-bronze hair in the mirror. I
would meet the man who wrote Ors Yris-teral I hoped he would find me pleasing.
     I have read books, some true, some fictions, that Carth has chosen for me, books that made me
anx-ious for the touch of a man. But Carth would not satisfy my curiosity.
     I asked him several times, and he said only that I was not for him.
     Then he brought me the gossamer cloth, and told me I would sup with the dharen.
     I hoped he would find me pleasing, standing be-fore the mirror. I had no way to adjudge myself.
From a great distance, only, have I seen other women.
     Carth came to fetch me, dark face smiling kindly, and we walked through the halls and down two
flights of steps. I had never been farther than the end of my chamber’s corridor. My stomach twisted and
turned, my pulse thumped against my ear-drums.
     Imposing is the dharen’s keep, I think. It is a high-ceilinged, thala-paneled place. I had read about
thala. I ran my hand over the blue-black smoothness. Looking into its grain made me dizzy. It went down
forever. I felt very small, and fright-ened, in the greatness of that room. All was blue—
     black and shades of silver. A silvery carpet covered the floor, thick and soft, with subtle,
eye-catching designs. The lights seemed to hover in the air, dancing just below the muraled ceiling. All
man-ner of animal life ranged there, in a lush jungle. I could not even guess at their names. Carth has
barely started me upon flora and fauna. But it was very beautiful.
     In the room were desks and tables, and numer-ous couches, arranged in groups, longer and thin-ner
than my sleeping couch. Upon one table, tapers burned in silver holders, the flames flickering over
covered dishes, surely silver. The table was’round.
     I perched myself upon the edge of the thick-napped, upholstered couch nearest the table, to await
him. I played with the hair resting on my silk-draped thigh. I wondered how a wellwoman might await a
client; how she would sit, how she would hold her breasts out her tummy in, leaning forward, perhaps,
with lips slightly parted. I laughed, pretending.
     One of the double doors opened at that moment, and the dharen entered.
     Golden-copper he is, lighter than I. And tall, with long legs and broad shoulders. He came to-ward
me, his dark robe swirling around him, the great chald of Silistra glinting at his, hips. A smile touched his
lips. He reached out his hands to me. I gave him mine, and he clasped them warmly.
     “What amuses you?” he asked me in a melodi-ous voice.
     “I am only pleased to be here,” I said softly.
     “You are very beautiful,” he said, stepping back a pace. I wondered how many women those
glow-ing eyes had scrutinized.
     “Doubtless,” he said at last. “You are, perhaps, more beautiful. You have read of her, of course.
     I nodded, wetting my lips. “I have just finished it. Carth thought I should read it. She died from a
similar affliction to mine. Could you not have saved her?”
     “She was not sane. She lost more than memory. She had no will to live. It was a kinder thing we did.
She craved death.” He extended his hand to me, led me to table.
     “You are far from the monster she painted you,” I said to him as he seated me, then himself at my left
hand. He smiled and brushed my cheek with his lips. I quaked within.
     “Do you have any other observations upon her writings?” he asked as he served me cheesed tuns.
His upper arms are very wide around, perhaps as wide as my thighs.
     “Only that reading her made me anxious to know my womanhood.” I stared brazenly into his, eyes.
“I had a dream about her lover, that I was with him,” I whispered.
     “Which one?” he said dryly.
     “There was only one,”.I said, prodding my food with the two-pronged silver fork. “I would feel what
she felt. I have been too long by myself.” My eyes sought his, caught them.
     He put down his fork and twisted in his chair. “Are you asking me?” he said levelly.
     “Oh, no,” I wailed, “I would not dare. It is only ...” I hugged myself, flushed and miserable.
     “It is only what?” he demanded, but softly.
     “That I need some man’s touch, that [may know maleness,, and femaleness in that reflection. One can
only get so much from books.” I implored his understanding. “I was not being forward. Carth says you
are my guardian. Forgive me.”
     He put his hand upon my arm. “Look at me,” said IChys.
     I looked at him. Never had I imagined such a man.
     “Would you?” I whispered, leaning forward.
     “I have had that intention,” he said, “since I first saw you.” And he got up from the table, food
untouched. He walked to the dark-hung window and turned to face me.
     “First,” he said “we must give you a name .. Have you thought upon it?”
     “No,” I said, flustered. “I thought you would choose.”
     “Your first birthday, so to speak, cannot pass and leave you nameless. Pick a name, it does not
matter what.”
     I whispered my choice to him, and he laughed, a gentle laugh. His fingers played in his chald.
     “So be it. May you have better luck with it,” he said.
     And he called me to him by it, where he was at the plush-hung window. He was gentle with me,
patient at my clumsiness. He seemed to take joy in my discoveries, though I knew nothing of how to
please a man but what I had read. And it is very different from reading. His clear voice grew husky, his
instructions terse. Afterward, kindly, he praised me, though I had trembled when I first saw him in his
nakedness.
     Hungry, he disdained the cold food upon the table and stepped out the door, fastening his robe
around him. I lay where he had left me, too drowsy to move, content for the first time in passes. I had a
birthday. I had a name. I had even had a man. I wriggled, upon the silvery carpet.
     By the time he returned, I had fastened the sheath once more at my right shoulder. I lay upon the
midnight couch, half-reclining. I felt very proud, looking at him as he approached, that such a man had
used me.
     He sat beside me, fondled my breast lightly. “You will bear me a son,” he said.
     “If it is within my power to do so,” I breathed, bending my head to kiss his hand.
     “It is already done.” He laughed. I put my hands to my flat, hard belly wonderingly.
     “I thought such could happen only after long and concerted effort,” I disbelieved.
     “I am the dharen,” he reminded me. “Such a small feat is well within my capabilities. Are you
displeased?” He narrowed his eyes, and for a mo-ment I felt invaded.
     “No,” I said, “only disconcerted. It will be an honor.”
     “One you richly deserve.” He chuckled, his hand running the length of my turned hip.
     “You will not send me back to my chamber, will you?” I implored him.
     “Only for a set’s time, while your quarters are being prepared. We were not sure that you were
ready. But I will visit you.” He lifted my chin with his finger.
     “And are you sure now?” I tried to hide my disappointment.
     “Almost,” he said, and his face went very stern. It was frightening to look upon.
     “I have a new keeper for you. Carth has an emergency to tend. He awaits. Go and sleep well. I will
visit you tomorrow.” Reluctant, I got up and left him. I felt his eyes upon me until I closed the door and
leaned back against it.
     I stood there, shivering a moment. I smiled to myself, and turned to my new keeper. ‘I marveled at
how diverse men are. This morning I had seen only Carth. Now my eyes knew the dharen, and this man,
also.
     He was as tall as Khys, but not as broad. His skin did not shimmer. HIs hair and eyes were brown.
He wore the an-ar’s chald, as did Carth, and plain leathers, almost black. He wore a weap-ons belt.
Carth did not His eyes were very deep under his brows, and I could not escape them. My back against
the doors, my hands clenched behind, I looked at him, trapped.
      “Let me take you back,” he said at length. He hardly opened his mouth when he spoke. His words
hissed upon a whisper like the wind against the tower. He was some sheathed weapon, cold as steel. He
bore many scars, this man, and I had no doubt that he had earned them dealing death.
      “Come with me,” he said with what could have been gentleness, and I let him take my shoulders and
guide me up the stairs. His eyes never left me. The silence between us was deafening.
      “I am Estri,” I said to him, to break it.
      “No,” he said, shaking his head, “you are not.” And there was a sadness in his voice that stopped me
in the passage. He stopped too, and turned to face me. Muscles twitched in his jaw. He tossed his head.
      “Just come with me,” he said. “I am sorry. I knew it would be that name they gave you.” And I
looked at that man, trembling visibly in the corridor, and asked him his name. He spoke it. Tears filled my
eyes for him, that he still carried such pain for his, dead couchmate.
      I did not realize,” I said touching his arm. “I did not mean to remind you.”
      “Let me take you back,” he said, disengaging lily hand, propelling me forward.
      “Sereth,” I said. He closed his eyes, opened them. “What?”
      “You will find another.”
      And then it was he that halted. He left me and leaned on the corridor wall. I went and peered up into
his face. I should not have. What was there was private grief. I put my hand upon his shoulder. He
shivered. Not knowing anything else to do, I stood there with him.
      “Sometimes I get dizzy,” he said with a weak grin. “Too many blows to the head.” He pushed himself
away from the wall. I let my hand fall.
      We walked the rest of the way in silence.
      He opened my chamber and stood back.
      “Go on,” he said, his lean form tense, his eyes watchful.
      “Carth comes in and sits with me. We talk. I am not sleepy.”
      “And I am not Carth. Have you no soul, woman? Leave me be. You will have your Carth back soon
enough, from this timely emergency.” And before his fury I ran into my chamber, and turned and put my
hand upon the door, so that he could not close it.
      “Why are you angry?” I asked him. “I have done nothing.”
      “I am not angry,” he said, running his hand over his eyes, as if to clear them. “I have matters
press-ing. Remove your hand, and I will go find Carth.”
      “I had a dream about you once,” I said softly.
      His face changed. He took my hand from the doorjamb. Then dropped it.
      His eyes searched mine. Whatever they sought there, they did not find.
      “You had best content yourself with dreams. I value my life. I must choose well the moment to spend
it,” he said, and closed the door upon me. I heard the tumblers spin.
      It amuses me to forward this to you, that you may be apprised of the fate of your envoy. Your
daughter will bear my son, and when he is grown, I may choose to set him against you.
      Be warned Send no more manipulators into my domain.
      Khys

Glossary
    (P) = Parset
    (S) = Silistran
    (ST) = Stothric (M) = Mi’ysten
    (MK) = M’ksakkan
    Amarsa: (S) The eighth pass of the Silistran calen-dar; the pass of summer solstice.
    aniet: (P) One of the seven interconnected under-ground life-support complexes that housed
refu-gee Silistrans during the thousand-year period known as hide-days. The hide aniet lies under the
dead sea in the Parset Desert; or the hide-name aniet, as Aknet aniet Beshost. Of all the hides of Silistra,
the blood of aniet is the least common, being confined almost exclusively to the Parset Lands by an
insular confederation of tribes who maintain there a strict autonomy. Almost one-half of aniet’s survivors
were of gristasha tribesmen, and this strong infusion makes “aniet’s stamp” an easily recognizable Silistran
type.
     apprei: (P) The tapestried, pyramidal tents of the nomadic desert cities of the Parse tribes.
     appreida: (P) The gathered appreis that constitute the Parset tribal unit; any group of appreis
con-taining, representatives of the major facets of Parset life; the ground upon which rests the bulk of a
given tribe.
     apth: (P) These large and ferocious tusked beasts roam the barrens and foothills of the Yaicas, even
venturing into the desert itself. The ill-tempered, pugnacious apth has a disproportion-ately small head,
from which jut its savage tusks, set upon a thick and muscular neck. Where neck meets shoulder, the
apth boasts an exaggerated crest, which in times of drought “humps” full with stored water. Apths,
though formidable op-ponents even of men and dorkats, are increas-ingly rare and are under the
protection of the cahndors and the god Tar-Kesa.
     Arlet: (S) Well Arlet. Also, the lands controlled by her.
     Arletian: (S) Of or pertaining to Well Arlet. In . couching, any coupling attended by bondage or
containing elements of submission; as criticism, excessive vehemence, or roughness.
     arrar: (ST) The chald of the messenger, within which is woven every strand attainable on Silistra; the
mark of the dharen’S personal service; one who bears such a chald.
     Astria: (S) Well Astria. The lands controlled by Well Astria, including Port Astrin, her depen-dent
city. Sometimes, in colloquial speech, it may denote the Well Foundress: “By Astriar
     Astria Barina diet Hadrath: (S) The Foundress of Well Astria, great-gi.andam of Estri Hadrath diet
Estrazi.
     Baniese: (S) Of or pertaining to Baniev.
     Baniev: (S) Silistra’s most northeast coast port. Baniev’s major exports are: the famed northern,
thala; danne, the yellow herb that grows high in the Sabembes; and the tri-sailed long ship whose
fleetness has no equal even in the quays of Dritira.
     bast: (S) The hide bast, which lies under Well Arlet and is said to extend under the Sabembe range.
The hide name “bast.”
     binnirin: (S) A high-protein, high-fat grain that grows in numerous varieties all over Silistra. Anything
tannish-brown may be called binnirin. From the grain comes flour and the fermented beverage brin, as
well as oil and stalk fodder for denter and parr.
     Bipedal Federate Standard Time: (MK) (BFST) Mea-sured in hours, minutes, and seconds; an
hour being equal to twenty-one twenty-seconds of an enth.
     Bipedal Federation: (MK) (B.F.) The M’ksakkan con-federacy of worlds as a whole, including
both the Bipedal Federate Trade Union (merchant arm), and the Bipedal Federate Group (the origi-nal
fifty-five worlds, commonly referred to as the Inner Stars).
     Bipedal Standard: (MK) (B.S.) Universal mean weights and measures.
     bondrex: (S) A class of horned herbivores; any un-domesticated grazer whose milk and meat are
not coveted by man (except the steppe bondrex, prized and raised for its long, silky hair). There are
nineteen species of bondrex cataloged on Silistra.
     brin: (S) A mild intoxicant drink fermented from the binnirin grain.
     brist: (S) A large and ferocious Silistran carnivore, hunted both for pelt and meat. Brist have a
standing height of up to sixteen B.S. feet, a weight of up to twenty-five hundred pounds. Their
ap-pearance is generally manlike. The head is round, the jaw slung under and hinged below side-set ears.
The whole body is covered with a thick hair coat, generally brown, much prized for its warmth and
durability.
     cahndor: (P) “Will of the sand”; the warlord of a Parset tribe; in usage, one who commands the
speaker’s allegiance and respect. The Silistran root word “chan” (“will of”) has been adopted into Parset,
with only its division into gender to differentiate it from its usage in the north. Whether suffix or prefix,
“chan” is always female, while “cahn” denotes a male.
     ca-nera: (S) Three-quarters of a nera.
      Cathe: (P) The mythological winged slitsa, guard-ian of the Spirit Gate that opens upon the twin
rivers of Ascension and. Dissolution, and before whom every traveler freed of flesh must come in
supplication, lest his journeys never end.
      chald: (S) (Stothric: spirit-bond.) A belt of chains commonly soldered around the waist.
      chalded: (S) Possessed of or wearing a chald.
      chaldless: (S) Possessing no chald; one who has been either unwilling or unable to acquire chal-dra;
an outlaw; one who has been stripped of his chald for iniquitous behavior, and so disbarred from Silistran
society.
      chaldra: (S) Numerous volumes exist upon the subject of chaldra, first and foremost Ors Chaldra
(the dharen Khys, hide-year sixty-three); Khys’s postulates of self-rule; the goal-seeking morality of
Silistra in general, including both high-chaldra (tasks and responsibilities undertaken to strengthen the
spirit form and increase sur-vival potential of the eternal particle, the indi-vidual consciousness, or the
flesh race as a whole) and low-chaldra (pertaining to the survival and betterment of the mundane
individual, the acquiring of life skills of material import only); a trade or craft chain.
      chaldric: (S) Demanded by chaldra; the “chaldric strands” that make up a chald; duties or labors
determined by the Laws of Chaldra.
      Clous: (S) The Silistran north star.
      coin girl: (S) A girl who couches for pay outside the Well system.
      Coseve: (P) The southeastern Parset Lands, hold-ings of the Cosever nation, whose color is green
and whose device is a white sphere transfixed by lightning upon a beryl ground.
      couch: (S) (n.) A sleeping platform, any surface used for coupling.
      couch: (S) (v.t.) To copulate.
      couchbond: (S) A companionship agreement be-tween two consenting adults. (Low-chaldra.) The
titrium couchbond strand is issued to the male at puberty after potency has been determined. No
Day-Keeper need officiate at such an enthald-ing, nor is a chalder demanded by custom. The titrium
châin may be inwoven or removed from a chald at the discretion of the two .parties involved. There is no
minimum or maximum time of couchbond.
      couch-gift: (S) The tokens exchanged upon the as-sumption of couchbond, forever after the
prop-erty of the individual in receipt. Also, any gift of sentiment.
      couching: (S) (n.) Any single coupling; a style, as “an Astrian couching.”
      couch-mate: (S) Persons bound together by love and/or issue; in usage, those in extended couch\
bond, those who consider their relationship more binding than simple couchbond. Couch-mate de-notes
responsibility of a high moral order be-tween two people. Gifting between couch-mates is traditionally
regulated; one gives either the gift of life (progeny, animal or human) or the gift of death (knife or sword).
      couch-met: (S) Met while performing well work; couching partners who have no previous
acquaint-ance.
      couch-price: (S) The fee a woman demands for her sexual services. Fees may range from as low as
a titrium half-well for a coin girl to as high as fifty gold dippars for a high-couch girl.
      couch-sisters: (S) Wellwornen; those of the same Well.
      crell: (P) A subhuman status awarded humans in the Parset Lands. Crells are bred, bought, and
caught: a foreign chald is reason enough for such immurement and exploitation of an unwary stranger.
      crill: (S) The hide crill, under the city Nin Sihaen across the Karir-Thoss River, is the most west-erly
of all Silistran hides; the hide-name crill, as: Sereth crill Tyris.
      crux: (S) One of the major Weathers of Life; time within which only that preordained may be done.
Time so obscured that no foreknowledge may be, gathered of what will occur therein. Colloquially, the
abyss. Any time that spawns far-reaching changes whose effects and purposes are supernal in nature.
Events that precipitate numinosity or nympholeptic response in the super-conscious.
      danne: (S) Psychotropic yellow herb that grows best at high altitudes in stony soil.
      Day-Keepers: (S) The guardians of Silistran history, past, present, and future. The Day-Keeper
hierars-chy as a whole is referred to as the Dharendiil, a High Day-Keeper as dharener. Over these
pre-sides the dharen, the spiritual guide of Silistra.
     Day-Keepers’ Clock: (S) A mythical gnomon upon whose face all that ever was, is, and will be is
inscribed. Usually an oath, as “By the Day-Keepers’ Clock.”
     Day-Keepers’ Roll: (S) The records of the dead, the archives into which name and history are
en-tered upon an individual’s death.
     deep Ireader: (S) One whose skills allow access to the deeper consciousness of another, exempting
thoughts framed for communication. The value of deep-reading is considered by many to be greater than
that of surface reading, for thoughts upon the surface, like, the tip of an iceberg, give little and often faulty
enlightenment as to what lurks beneath.
     denter: (S) A large-humped, nub-horned animal, passive and tractable, raised for meat and dairy,
and often used as a draft beast. This single—
     hoofed animal ranges from ten to fourteen hands and may reach a weight of thirteen hundred B.S.
pounds.
     deracou: (P) “The wind that devours”; most deadly of Parset sandstorms; the summer storms that
yearly remake the desert’s topography, which once blew all the year round upon the desert lands, and
against which the Parset nictitating membranes and contractible nostrils were devel-oped as survival
modifications by hide aniet’s Day-Keepers, dharen: (ST) The spiritual ruler of Silistra; the supreme
authority of the Day-Keeper hierarchy.
     dharener: (ST) A high Day-keeper; one who holds the adminstrative rank of dharener; a hide
coun-cil member. (In the Parset Lands, where the dhar-eners posture at autonomy, the hide council
seeks no higher authority.)
     dhrouma: (S) A drum made from the hollowed-out elbow of the onaric tree’s branches. Once the
curved, tube has been aged, both ends are cov-ered with gaen hide.
     diet: (S) The hide diet, which extends under Well Astria, has her entrance on the banks of the Litess
River, within the walls of the Day-Keepers’ School; the hide name diet.
     dippar: (S) Sillistran coinage. One gold dippar is equalled by fifty copper dippars. Dippars are
minted only in independent cities, as opposed to titrium and gold half-wells and wells, minted by the Well
system. They are round with octagonal holes punched in mid-disk, and are intaglioed with a
representation of the city in which they were struck.
     Dordassa: (P) The land of the Dordassar tribesmen, which bisects the dead sea. Dordassa is
bor-dered on the north by Nemar, on the east by the Embrodming Sea, on the south by Coseve,
Menetph, and Itophe, and to the west by the tail of the Yaicas and the Opirian Sea. Her colors are
cobalt and cinnabar, her, device the cobalt dorkat upon a cinnabar ground.
     Dorkat: (P) Wingless cousin of the hulion, the dorkat has the same wedge-shaped head and pointed
ears. The hind, musculature tends to be lighter, but the forequarters are as heavily developed. Although
the cranial capacity is identical with the hulion’s, dorkats do not demonstrate more than half the
intelligence of their winged breth-ren. The nocturnal dorkat is prevalent in all the wilderness areas of
Silistra, and its prey is thusly varied, dependent upon what the area will provide. They are exclusively
carnivores, with protruding incisors. Dorkats, unlike hulions, have been known to turn man-eater, and
area often troublesome raiders to herders of domesticated beasts.
     draw: (S) Draw time, one of the Weathers of Life, recognizable by the acceleration of the
proces-sion of events, and to the individual by an in-creased sensitivity and awareness of proximity to
crux. Draw time, when properly exploited, is said to be the most frUitful of all the Weathers.
     Dritira: (S) Fifth-largest Silistran city, largest south-ern port. Dritira receives goods overland from
Stra and Galesh, and ships from every city with merchant fleets. The Embrodrning Inlet, which she shares
with the city of the written word, Yardum-Or, is the most trafficked harbor upon Silistra. Dritira, as
Yardurn-Or, is a dependent city to Well Oppiri, third most prestigious of the Silistran Wells.
     ebvrasea: (S) The largest of Silistra’s .omnivorous birds. Ebvraseas have been known to achieve a
wingspread of sixteen feet or more. They are night hunters and seldom venture out of their craggy realms.
Ebvraseas mate for life.
     ei-joss (P) The five-named human spirit as it is delineated by the religion of Tar-Kesa; folk
rep-resentation of the Tar-Kesian tenet that man is never complete while enfleshed, and that human
iniquity stems from this inherent knowledge of the flawed nature of mortality.
     enth: (S) One twenty-eighth of the Silistran day; each enth contains seventy-five iths.
     Falls of Santha: (S) The great cascades at the source of the Litess River, high on the Plateau of
Santha in the Sabembe range.
     Feast of Conception: (S) The oldest performed cere-mony upon Silistra, dating back into
prehistory. Before Haroun-Vhass, the Fall of Man, Silistrans observed Feast of Conception ..
     fire gem: (P) A multihued precious stone mined exclusively in the•Parset Lands, fire gems rival gol in
hardness and durability and are much sought by gol-etchers.
     firstcome: (P) Any individual whose actions seem to fulfill prophecy; a catalyst or agent of
Tar-Kesa, sent periodically into the world to purge and prepare his children before He makes his
presence felt.
     forereaders: (S) Those females who have received training in the sorting of probability.
Foreread-ers ai-e the most powerful and prestigious wom-en on Silistra, those whom the Day-Keepers
have chosen to share their work, those whose innate foreseeing ability is .88999 or better.
     forereader’s disease: (S) An inability to discern the relative likelihood of manifestation of what is
seen in the sort, followed by the appearance in the forereader of doubt and fear. Once this nega-tive
patterning has become firmly established in the viewer’s conception, all incoming data are misread to
accord with the interpretive view-point, a closed cycle of paranoia develops, where-in the forereader
manufactures a false sort, reads it, reinforces the self-generated fear, brings into being that which is
feared, is thusly upheld, and manufactures yet another false sort.
     forereading: (S) Stochastic processing, the sorting of probability.
     friysou: (P) A featherless, leather-winged scavenger common in the desert regions, the friysou’s
wing-spread may approach that of the mountain ebvrasea. The friysou is not an aggressive predator,
however, preferring to pick the bones of other beasts’ kills.
     gaen: (S) Most common of southern draft beasts, the gaen is a distant relative of the northern denter.
This straight-horned herbivore is readily domesticated, placid of temper, and can haul up to ten times its
own weight for considerable distances. Its heavy musculature, although a bene-fit to those who use gaen
for draft, yields up a tough and stringy meat which is barely palatable; “gaen-eater” is an epithet
applicable to any so lacking in life skills as to be reduced to depend-ing for sustenance upon this
slow-moving, dull-witted, untasty beast.
     Gaes d’ar: (P) “You stand before me”; one of fifteen possible Parset greetings, the use of which is in
a formal audience between two of markedly different stations.
     gaesh: (S) The hide gaesh, beneath the jungle city of Galesh on the Karir-Thoss River. The hide
name gaesh.
     Galesh: (S) The city that feeds Silistra, Galesh lies in the most fertile Karir-Thoss Valley. The
Galeshir swamps yield a number of medicinal herbs that cannot be found elsewhere, as well as the
swamp kepher from whose scent glands come the base fixatives for: the much-sought Galeshir perfumes.
In this tropical climate the. Silistran silkworm thrives; Galeshir carpets are second only to Parset rugs in
their beauty and durability.
     gol: (S) The excrescence of the golachit of Siiistra. Gol comes naturally in five colors: blue, amber,
white, silver, and red. Black or other adulterated colors are produced by feeding the golachit the proper
melanis (harmless chemically treated fungi). Gol is considered superior as a building material because of
its permanence; gol ‘might last a man a lifetime, while iron, brick, and wood seem to wear away visibly
under the Silistran eye.
     golachit: (S) The great builder beetle of Silistra thrives both in a wild state in the gollands at the feet
of the Sabembes, and in a mutually ben-eficial symbiosis with man. As with web-weaver and webber, so
do golachit and golmaster blend minds and create together such beauty as would have remained
unrealizable dream for either alone. The golachit is a scavenger by nature and finds both food and
stimulation in this commun-ity with man.
     gohnaster: (S) One who enters into community of minds with a golachit; a golarchitect.
     gristasha: (pre-Hide Silistra) The dark-skinned primitives who formed one-half of the hide aniet,
precursors to the Parsets, who still tattoo them-selves as did their fierce progenitors. The Parset culture,
in language and custom, bears heavily this gristasha influence.
     Groistu: (ST) The constellation of the stones wielder, which dominates the southwest quadrant of
the Parset sky.
     gul: (S) The ovoid, juicy fruit from which kifra is obtained; any of the three varieties of gul, the
yellow, the orange, the purple-blue.
     harinder: (S) A sepia-colored, thorned shrub ubiqui-tous upon Silistra. It is speculated that when the
Polar Wastes are explored, some subspecies of harinder will be found there.
     hard y (S) (n.) A common and tasty bird whose feathers are black and iridescent. The harth thrives in
city and town, as well as plain and forest. He is a migrating bird, preferring warm weather. In the northern
regions at harvest past, the sky is indeed “harth-black” with their num-bers, screeching their distinctive
“Hareee, haree” cry.
     harth: (S) (adj.) Anything black and shining, espe- ,cially black with blue or purple overtones.
     helsar: (M) A bluish-white, crystalline life or prelife form said to be the reagent (in its shattered state)
of life in a neighboring continuum. Helsars manifest upon a time-space world only contigu-ous to a
disturbance such as is caused by flesh when first attempting the obviation of space.
     hest: (S) To bend or twist natural law to serve the will; to command by mind; to cause a probabil-ity
not inherent in the time to manifest. (The line between hesting and shaping is somewhat diffi cult to define
when highly skilled individuals are concerned. The rule of thumb is held to be thus: if natural law must be
remade or totally superseded, as in creating a permanent object such as a fruit or a star, one is shaping. If
one is simply controlling an already existing object or event, as would be the case if one caused a fruit or
star already in existence to alter its behavior but not its structure, one is hesting. The fruit or star one
moves to the right or the left or higher in the sky by will would not have behaved in that fashion, but is still
the same star or fruit as was a natural inhabitant of the time before the hest was applied. If one, on the
other hand, cre-ates fruit or star, one has brought into the time, by a suspension of natural law, that which
here-tofore did not exist. One shapes matter. One bests time.) In usage, bringing in a hest, affect-ing
probability.
     hide: (S) The seven hides of Silistra: aniet, bast, crill, diet, gaesh, rendi, and stoen. Each hide
supported a thousand survivors and their prog-eny through the long years of waiting until the planet’s
surface was again habitable. Under the aegis of the dharen’s Day-Keepers and foreread-ers, the hides
were built and operating sixty years before the projected disaster. But few believed, and thus only in hide
aniet were there other than Day-Keepers and forereaders when the world exploded into war. It is said
that the word “hide” derived from the scoffing and mock-ing of pre-hide Silistra at the project. “Khys’s
burrows” was another early name for the inter-connected life-support complexes that saved what little of
Silistra that was desirous of survival.
     hide-days: (S) The thousand years of subterranean living, accounted hide-year one through one
thousand. Our present calendar date of 25,693 is counted from the—first year spent above the ground.
All that occurred before hide-year one is termed pre-hide, or prehistoric.
     hide-name: (S) Any of the seven hide-names: aniet, bast, crill, diet, gaesh, rendi, .and stoen. Hide
descent is always carried through the mother. The hide-narne is second in the male, third in the female,
and always takes lower-case honors.
     high-couch: (S) Formally, the Well-Keepress, also any woman able to demand over thirty gold
dippars per couching.
     huija: (P) The metal-studded, braided lash favored by Parsets.
     hulion: (S) The most intelligent animal on explored Silistra. The hulion—winged, furred carnivore of
the Sabembe range—shuns civilization. They are known to have mind skills and a complex language, but
are not symbolizers such as man. The hulion does as he wills upon Silistra, and none obstruct him. The
high Sabembes and the unnamed western mountains are their domain of choke.
     Inner Well: (S) The great central court within a Well’s walls.
     ith: (S) One-seventy-fifth of an enth.
     Itophe: (P) The land of the Itophe, bordered on the north by Dordassa, on the east by Menetph, on
the south by the Ernbrodming, and on the west by the southernmost Yaicas and the salt river Oppi.
Itophic colors are gray and sepia, her de-vice the triple triangle of sepia upon a field of gray.
     jer: (P) A watering place in an otherwise arid region. jeri: (MK) A costly and exotic M’ksakkan
drink .which mixes seven fruits with a char-filtered grain beverage; a sweet drink much favored by
women. jiask: (P) A Parset fighting man; one who has earned the jiask’s chaldric strand.
     jiaskcahn: (P) A jiask who rules over three hundred of his fellows.
     kapura: (S) A drum similar to the dhrouma, but having a cylindrical, uncurved belly. The dhrou-ma
produces a lower, drier sound than does the kapura.
     kifra: (S) A Silistran drink made from crushed guls, a live fruit wine.
     Liaison: (S) The contact officers installed as semi-permanent officials on Bipedal Federate Trade
Union worlds. The designation “First,”
     “Second,” etc., is Silistran, but indicative of the local M’ksakkan hierarchy.
     Litess: The Litess River.
     Menetph: (P) The southernmost of the Parset Lands, bordered on the north and east by Coseve, on
the south by the Exnbrodming, and on the west and north by Itophe. The Menetpher device is the amber
star upon, a black ground.
     Mi’ysten: (M) Name for both a planet and people. Experimental sphere of the Shapers.
     M’ksakka: (MK) The administrative planet of the B.F. Group and Bipedal Federate Trade Union.
M’ksakka is a highly industrialized world that exports all types of leisure and convenience machinery, a
superior solar sail, and a synthetic shatterproof crystal.
     M’ksakkan: (MK) Originating upon M’ksakka. All M’ksakk’ns, unless very high or very low in
their society, bear the M’ before their name; as Mien-nin, or, conversely, Khaf-Re Dellin.
     Morrlta: (S) The pelter town nestled in the foothills of the Sabembes.
     name: (S) A red, round fruit with crisp white pulp and a distinctly salty aftertaste; the tree, which
bears red leaves and fruits eight passes out of the year; the drink made from pulping the fruit.
     Nemar: (P) The most northerly of the Parset Lands, bordering upon the Skin—valley in the north,
the Sabembes in the east, Dordassa in the south, and the Yaicas in the west. At one time the border of
Nemar included Mount Opir. The Nemarsi device is the slitsa wound around the Parset blade upon a
field of crimson.
     Nemarchan: (P) “Will of Nemar”; the woman, by tradition a forereader, who is leader over
Nernar’s tiasks.
     nera; (S) 1.2 B.S. miles; Silistran measure of distance.
     Oguast: (S) A provisionally entered B.F. planet in Silistra’s own sector. Oguast’s surface, is
eighty-two percent water, her main exports are wistwa ivory and articles of superior ceramic process.
     Ors Yris-tera: (ST) “Book of the Weathers of Life”; the divination system introduced by the dharen
Khys during hide-days, along with the game itself, yris-tera.
     owkahen: (ST) “The time coming to be”; those probabilities among all the available futures that will
manifest as reality.
     pandivver: (P) an insectivorous barrens bird whose favorite food is the hydrotaxic wirragaet.
     parr: (S) The small, wiry-haired food beast of Silistra. The snub-nosed, flop-eared parr provides
Silistra with meats, hide, fertilizer, and glue. It is said of a parr that only its hair does man no service.
     parr-breeder: (S) One who raises parr; one who wears the low-chaldric brown strand.
     parr-hide: (S) The sturdiest leather available on Silistra, parr-hide is thicker and less pliable than
either tas or denter. Its main uses are in harnesses, footwear, armor, and weapon-related leathers.
     Parset: (P) (adj.) Having origin in the Parset Lands. Parset: (P) (n.) An individual of any one of the
five Parset tribes.
     Parset Lands: (P) The Parset Desert; the Parset barrens; the territories of the five tribes—Coseve,
Dordassa, Itophe, Menetph (under which lies hide aniet), and Nemar. The Parset Lands lie at the bottom
of Skirr Valley. They are bounded on the northeast by the tail of the Sabembes, on the east and south by
the Embrodming Sea, and on the west by the southern Yaica range and the river Oppi.
     pass: (S) One-fourteenth of the Silistran year; the Silistran lunation. Each pass is composed of four
sets.
     peg: (S) (v., to peg time.) To scale down one’s time sense, to become concerned with the moment,
to expand the moment. Pegging time is a prerequi-site to all temporal skills. More formally referred to as
“taking stance in the now,” this process is the Silistran weapon against idleness and apathy, as well as the
first step ins sorting: discerning the probabilities available from the moment. The moment is infinitely
fruitful; it is the mind’s apprehension of it that is subject to famine and drought. If a man, at the end of the
day, recol—
     Shaper: (M) One who can control the constituents of matter and form them to his will.
     Silistra: (S) The third planet of the star Veriti; in usage, the inhabited continent, exempting the Polar
Wastes and those shores of which none are empowered to speak.
     Silistran: (S) (adj.) Of Silistra.
     Silistran: (S) (language.) Often Balled modern or New Silistran, the planetary tongue. Although
some may not speak Darsti, the language of sci-ence, nor Stothric, the language of metaphysics, nor
Parset, the tongue of the desert dwellers, all speak Silistran.
     (S) An unrestricting short garment worn by women, often white. A skim may be tied in numerous
ways, and is differentiated from a short-length wrap by its strings at neck, waist, and hip.
     Slayers: (S) The enforcement arm of the Day-Keepers, those who have tested for and been
awarded the black-iron chain, chaldric strand of the Slayers. Slayers are an authority as accessi-ble to
one man as any other, and there is no man who is denied the strength of a Slayer’s arm, be his need just
and true, and his waist chalded. A Slayer is responsible to his Slayers’ Seven and ultimately to the
Day-Keepers for his actions, but in practice he is usually his own authority, responsible to the Law
Within. The limit of fourteen Slayers upon any one commis—
     _
     sion, however, is strictly enforced. The Slayer’s device is the crossed sword and stones in black,
upon a silver ground. Their leather colors are slate and black. Subranks are indicated by belt colors and
cords.
     Slayers’ Seven: (S) The top-ranking Slayers in a ‘given hostel; the seven officials directly
respon-sible to the Day-Keepers for the comportment of their hostel. Each is addressed by his rank
number, “One” through “Seven.”
     slitsa: (S) Any legless reptile; of the class “slitsa.” There are one hundred and five species of slitsa.
     sort: (S) (n.) The probabilities inherent in a spe-cific moment of time; those alternate futures available
to one trained to seek them.
     sort: (S) (v.) To “sort” probability; to determine in advance the resultant probabilities from
postu-lated actions.
     Stoth: (ST) The Stoth disciplines; the prehistoric philosophy and religion that were precursors to the
Day-Keepers and the Weathers of Life.
     Stothric: (ST) An archaic Silistran language; the language of metaphysics; the traditional garb of the
Stoth priesthood.
     Stra: (S) The city of Stra, upon the most westerly shore of the inland Opirian Sea. Stra is the mining
capital of Silistra, the home of famed stra-metal, whose secret is considered Stra’s greatest treasure. Stra
also refines copper, bauxite, iron, and gold, all of which they mine in the rich Yaica range. Within Stra’s
gates are Well Frenya, and beneath her, the hide rendi.
     stra: (S) That greenish metal refined in the city of
     Stra, whose resistance to corrosion and tensile strength are greater than that of Silistran steel.
ta-nera: (S) A quarter-nera.
     Tar-Kesa: (P) The god Tar-Kesa, by whose laws the cahndors and dhareners rule the Parset Lands.
     tas: (S) The woolly hill grazer whose flesh is most highly prized of all Silistran meats.
     tas-skin: (S) Often referred to simply as tas, or tas-suede. The hide of the tas may be split very thin,
and even in splits rivals the durability of leathers thrice as thick.
     Tasa: (ST) (Stothric: be blessed.) The common Silistran farewell.
     tasling: (S) A tas under six years of age.
     thala: (S) The most costly hardwood upon Silistra. Northern thala, the preferred variety, is black
with a blue cast. Southern thala, substantially less expensive, is black with brown overgrain. It lacks the
sheen and depth of northern thala, but shares its near-imperviousness to weather.
     Thrah: Iridescent long-haired pelts from the planet Torth: the animal from which the Thrah pelt
comes is about the same size as a brist and might be mistaken for one, but for the long, multicolored coat
and the fact that the thrah walks on all fours and is mute.
     threx: (S) The preferred riding beast of Silistra. The threx may range from fifteen to twenty hands in
height, from one to two thousand B.S. pounds. It prefers meat. but can subsist upon almost anything. It is
readily domesticated up to a point, but remains a moderately dangerous ani-mal-at all times. Threx can
reach a speed of up to forty neras an enth for short periods, and in endurance races have been known to
make as much as six hundred neras in four days, Threx are readily trained and often war-trained.
Threx-men are fond of saying that there is no weapon but man more dangerous than threx. The threx of
the north and the Parset threx, who has two vertebrae fewer than his northern cousin, are in some other
ways dissimilar: the Parset threx has a more efficient metabolism, nictitat-ing membranes, nostrils that can
be closed at will, and greater strength and stamina than the common Silistran threx.
     tiask: (P) .A Parset warwoman; one who has claimed the tiask’s strand.
     tiaskchan: (P) A tiask in command of three hundred of her sisters.
     atrium: (S) A pinkish metal similar to gol but less costly. Titrium is the metal of the couchbond
strand, and the half-well titrium coin. Titrium is a product of the city Torwin.
     Torth: The planet Torth, from which Silistra buys more goods than from all the other star-worlds
combined. Torth sculpture, whether out of metal or stone, or in the form of “Torth sculptured hangings” is
much sought upon Silistra. A Torth sculptured hanging is basically a thick-piled tapestry Worked upon a
very fine grid with threads woven from the Thrah-hair, and then carved to various depths, revealing at
each level different tones of color.
     Torwin: (S) The city Torwin, from which comes titrium. Torwin is sometimes called the musi-cians’
city. Both players and makers of instru-ments throng Torwin from elsewhere on Silistra, to study the aural
arts. Torwin, upon the Karir river delta, has both a sea and river port, and from it ships tropical fruits and
certain crusta-ceous delicacies north.
     tun: A starchy, black-skinned tuber with yellow pulp that grows in stony, sandy, or even poor soil.
     uris: (P) A species of succulent that grows wild in the Parset Lands; the stimulant drug made from
the uris plant.
     uritheria: (P) A beast from Tar-Kesian mythology, said to have ignited the sun in the sky; the
cahndor’s device.
     veil: (P) A colloquialism for forereader’s disease. webber: (S) The arachnid artisans who produce,
in cooperation with web-weavers, web-cloth and web-work.
     web-cloth: (S) A nearly indestructible material made in collaboration by web-weavers and webbers,
Silistra’s largest arachnids.
     web-fiber: (S) The web-strands used for ropemak-ing when optimum strength is required and the
fact that web-fiber rope cannot be cut is no de—
     terrent. Web-fiber is produced only by training webber-weaver pairs, and is much less common than
hemp rope.
     web-weaver: (S) One who enters into community creation with a webber.
     web-work: (S) Open-weave, diaphanous body dress-ing, usually geometric in pattern; more than
lace and less than cloth, very similar to the: unguided work of webber alone.
     Well Arlet: (S) The second most prestigious Well on Silistra lies in the elbow of the Sabembe range,
above the hide bast.
     Well Astria: (S) The most venerated Well on Silistra, Astria bears the name of the Well Foundress
Astria Barina diet Hadrath, author of the Well Woman’s Ors (Stothric: book). Astria was the premier
Well, and although different in trap-pings and style, in substance every Well upon Silistra is p4tterned
after the Astrian form. Well Astria lies upon the plain of Astria, fifty-eight neras from hide diet and the
Day-Keepers’ School.
     well tokens: (S) (gold and silver.) Must be pur-chased with regular coinage or won in the pass and
set games. Well tokens from one well may not be used in another, nor are they considered coinage per
se.
     wind from the abyss: (S) In the Ors Yris-tera (Book of the Weathers of Life), written by the dharen
Khys, is the first known reference to the wind from the abyss, and it is from this book of divina-tion that
the term came into general usage. Who of Silistra has not at one time or another thrown the bone
yris-sera pieces onto the three level board and found himself delineated as the “ebvrasea upon the square
of overriding pur-pose”? Says the ors: “His wings beat upon the wind from the abyss.” And: “Stalking is
assid-uous; Stalking culls the weak from the strong; In both the hunters and the hunted does it per—
     form this funCtion.” (Khys, from the divination “Stalking.”) In common usage, the chill of
premo-nition, the physical forewarning of danger that may not be avoided. “Before Stalking, who can
stand but those who alsoistalk?”
     wirragaet: (P) An insect that lies dormant just un-der the desert sands when insufficient water is
present for its survival, to rise up in clouds con-taining tens of thousands when roused by the presence of
moisture in the air. The wirragaet is the preferred food of the pandivver, whose long beak enables it to
hunt them beneath the sands.
     Wirur: (ST) Constellation of the winged hulion, containing “at the tip of his westward ear” the north
star Clout.
     —Avistwa: (S) The great sea beast of Oguast. It is main-tained by Oguasti that two tall men, one
upon the other’s shoulders, could stand within the rib cage of the wistwa, and that the top man might then
stretch his arms upward in vain to touch the backbone of the great sea beast of Oguast; the ivory of such
a beast.
     Yaicas: (S) The Yaica Range, the longest chain of mountains upon known Silistra.
     yellow crier: (S) A bright yellow bird that might lie in the palm of a hand. In flight the yellow crier’s
wings are invisible. It darts at great speed and low altitude after the insects that are its prey. Its beak is as
long again as its head, and from its mouth comes a sound most like a screaming child’s.
     yit: (S) A small, furred burrowing animal, the yit is often found in proximity to man. The yit is a
cozener and thief by nature, stealing even the homes of other yits.
     yra: (P) The Parset military unit of twenty-one; also, twenty-one.
     yris-tera: (ST) “The weathers of life”; the name given to the divinatory game that is the accompa—
     niment to the Ors Yris-sera. Yris-tera consists of three slotted boards, each of which is divided into
forty-nine squares, nine of which are holes, or “slots.” When assembled, the placement of boards is as
follows: on the top, the board of catalysts; in the middle, the board, of movement and manifestation; on
the bottom, the board of outcome. The sixty pieces, traditionally carved of bone, are shaken in a
cylinder, one end of which has seven holes through which the pieces may fall onto the boards. The
yris-tera piece breakdown is as follows: one Well, one child, one star, two flames, two dayglasses, two
scrolls, two sheaves of binnirin, two waves, two parr, four women, four men, five ebvrasea, eight threx,
eight spears, eight shields, eight swords. When one piece is joined within a square by another, the piece
value is thereby altered, yielding up such additional specifics as: Day-Keeper = dayglass/man, forereader
= dayglass/woman, slayer = sword/man. Yris-tera, in all its com-plexity, has been well delineated by the
dharen Khys, its creator, and interested parties might refer to his abridged manual Yris-tera and to the
Ors itself.

Silistran Calendar

Pass Of Winter Solstice
   Orsai
   Tisera
   Cai
   Macara
    Detarsa
    Jicar
    Finara
Pass Of Summer Solstice
   Amarsa
   Cetet
   Enar
   Brinar
   Decra
   Sisaen
   Laoral




       When multiple pieces inhabit one square upon the board of catalysts, the diviner is enjoined to read also the
    [1]

ora-cle for each alone upon the square in question, and to take note of any pieces inhabiting congruent squares upon
the boards of manifestation and outcome