The gnome shook his head. "There's more. Try harder!" His eyes seemed to grow even larger, and blacker, and deeper, and shinier.

"They said the king would give her many gowns. She was excited about that, but upset becausea""

"They said more."

Rap leaned back in his chair and stared up at the w rafters and fretted roof. "That she must . . . trust . . . remember . . . remember love! Trust in love!"

He started, as if he had been dozing and had heard a loud noise. "What did I just say?"

"Nothing much." Ishist showed his pike teeth. "But be sure to mention the G.o.d to my master when you meet him. He may know already, of course. "

"How?"

The gnome sat up straight and scratched vigorously. "Even warlocks are very careful around the G.o.ds, friend Rap. G.o.ds rarely manifest so close an interest in human affairs, but when They do, then sorcery is nothing! The power of the G.o.ds is unlimited. That could be why you . . . but I'm just guessing. I have to send you to my master, you understand? I have no choice in the matter. "

"I understand." Oothiana had said much the same.

Ishist eased forward on the seat so his legs dangled over the edge. "But I do have discretion in how I do it. I'm his agent, not just a trained dog. If I had a magic portal, or even a magic carpet, then I could transport you at once to Hub, or to his home on Valdoriana"he spends more time in Ilrane than he does in the Blue Palace. But sorcerous paraphernalia like that is tricky stuff around dragons. They might wreck the rest of the redoubt trying to get at it. So we haven't got any." He blinked solemnly. "Then how . . ." But that was none of Rap's business.

Apparently it was, though. "How does he come visiting? Just by sorcery. A magic device like that cas.e.m.e.nt of Inisso's . . . such things are handy, but they can never be stronger than the sorcerer who made them. They're quicker, often, and easier. And another of their advantages is that normally they don't make so many ripples. Sheer brute power is as subtle as a thunderstorm. It attracts attention, and all sorcerers are cagey, secretive people. When Lith'rian came here twice in two days, he rattled the ambience something awful. Took me weeks to get the livestock calmed down."

Rap began to feel more hopeful. Perhaps he was not going to be enslaved right away.

Ishist regarded him with quiet amus.e.m.e.nt. "And he's a lot better than me. I might .magic you partway to Hub, at least, but I might well start a stampede in the process, and that could lead to a major disaster, if they got over the fence. So you're going to have to walk. Your two friends will go with you, of course.". He glanced at the two jotnar by the window, lost in admiration of the bleakly alien scenery. Rap's future was concealed from the sorcerer, but he had not said that theirs was. Rap decided not to ask.

"Now," Ishist said softly, "I must decide how to send you. I could use a compulsion, like the one I used to bring you here. Less urgent, of course, but I can give you an irresistible command to go to Lith'rian." He smiled gruesomely. "Or I could put the loyalty spell on you myself; not as strong as he could, but strong enough. I can make you want to go to Lith'rian, to serve him."

Cold fingers of horror touched Rap's heart, and he shook his head vigorously.

"You would be happier," the gnome said mockingly. "You'd be doing what you wanted to do."

Just like the once-lovely Athal'rian, besotted with a gnome? Such power was obscene, perverting its user as much as his victim. Yesterday Rap had become an adept and in minutes had found himself using mastery on Andor.

"I . . . I should prefer just to obey an order, my lord."

He knew that the sorcerer knew what he was thinking, but the little man did not seem to take offense. He c.o.c.ked his head at Rap. "You want to help Inosolan, don't you? That's your aim: to put her on her throne?"

"To serve her as a loyal subject. That's all." Rap's farsight told him he was blushing like a child.

Ishist chuckled gently. "Mmm? All? You can't do it alone, you know. Fauns like to go their own way, but even an adept can't find one mackerel in all the oceans, Rap."

Zark . . . but he did not know that Inos was still in Zark, even. She might have heeded his warning and fled. Or not. Or one of the wardens might have abducted her, or the sorceress recovered her. He had a terrifying vision of all Pandemia stretched out endlessly before him, and himself spending his whole life wandering from place to place, searching for Inos.

Put like that, his dream seemed bootless. "I suppose not."

"You can't fight the Four! No one and nothing can fight the Four. Except the G.o.ds."

"No,." Rap said. He was a fool.

"So my advice would be to go and ask Lith'rian to help you." For a moment Rap was speechless. Ask help from a warlock? Common sense had hysterics at the idea. Yet he also felt an odd shivery p.r.i.c.kle of excitement. Was that some sort of occult ability of his own, or was the sorcerer playing tricks on him? Or imagination? Baffled, Rap said, "Would he?"

Ishist shrugged. "I honestly don't know. It would be dangerous for you, of course. The sorcerous normally stay well away from warlocks, and you're an adept. He may just give your words to someone else and kill you out of hand. I don't know where Krasnegar fits in his current political strategy, but elves . . . They're funny folk. They put style before substance. They admire qualitiesa"beauty, wit, grace, elegance. Lith'rian might just be amused enough by your presumption. That would be like him. He can be generous beyond all reason, and he's ruthless when he's balked."

The shadow of Athal'rian fell across the conversation. Ishist frowned, then continued. "But he enjoys a good joke. He admires courage, too. I'd say he's about your only hope, being realistic."

"Well, you're going to send me to him. I'll ask then."

The old man shook his head gently. "If I send you, you won't ever get to see him. Not in person. You'll be thrown in the vaults like a rent payment, until needed."

"But. . ."Rap stared incredulously. "Oha"you mean I just promise to go and ask the warden for help? You'd trust me?"

"That's it. No spells. No sorcery."

Could Rap even trust himself to obey such an order? Warily he said, "An oath made under duress isn't worth much. Do I have any choice?"

"That's the whole point, lada"I'm giving you a choice."

He wouldn't have much of a choice if he'd made a promise, would he? Not unless he reneged, of course.

Ruthless when balked. "You're steering pretty close to the rocks yourself, aren't you . . . Ishist?"

The gnome smiled into his nauseating beard and waited. He wasn't telling the whole truth, though, or else he was testing, somehow. Qr wanting Rap to think those things. Or just lying, and planning to spell Rap anyway.

But Rap would much rather be his own man than a puppet, or at least think he wasa"and that spooky internal nudging was registering approval again. "Then I promise to go and find your master and ask him to help Inosa"if you'll tell me how, and you promise not to . . . to mess about with my mind."

Ishist chuckled. "Typical faun! Always convinced his own ways are best." Abruptly he slid down off his chair.

Rap rose from his, and clasped the tiny hand being offered, having to bend slightly to do so. "I promise," he repeated. "And I." For a moment a veil seemed to lift from the little gnomea"a small, ugly, filthy old man, girt with enormous occult power, but just a man doing his best in a hard job, living in the style of his people, caring for his children, deeply in love with his wife. It was not his fault that his race ate carrion. Then the odd moment had pa.s.sed, and he was a sorcerer again, even if his head was barely higher than Rap's elbow.

He examined his own hand, which Rap had just released. "That's two," he remarked softly. "You and Athal'rian."

"Two?"

"Touched me." He looked up with a cryptic gleam in his black b.u.t.ton eyes. "Few day men will shake hands with a gnome, Rap. Even fewer would think a promise made to a gnome had any value at all. But you . . . I think you're a man of your word."

The splendour falls:

The splendour falls on castle walls,

And snowy summits old in story . . .

O sweet and far from cliff and scar

The horns of Elfland faintly blowing!

a" Tennyson, The Princess

EIGHT.

To the seas again

1.

"There is something very aesthetic about bacon and eggs," Kade said. "The meld of shapes and colors, perhaps? Or is it because I a.s.sociate it with childhood? Or winter mornings in Kinvale?" She dabbed her lips with her napkin and sighed like one who could eat nothing more.

Kade was in ecstasy. She had slept in a bed with real linen sheets. She had been granted hot water for washing, and promised a hot tub later in the day. A maiden who was probably one of Elkarath's innumerable granddaughters or greatgranddaughters had shampooed her hair and curled it for her afterward quite expertly. The matronly Nimosha, who was one of his daughters or granddaughters, had produced a gown of almost Kade's size, in almost the current fashion, and had asked if it would suffice until Kade herself could have the merchants bring around better, and of course that could be arranged to happen right after breakfast. Then Kade had eaten bacon and eggs, and with silver cutlery instead of fingers.

The two ladies had consumed their leisurely breakfast in the sheik's personal dining hall. The hour was late enough that everyone else was feverishly occupied elsewhere.

Like all the other chambers they had seen so far, the room was tiny, with only six chairs squeezed in around a table, and the rest of it taken up by a grotesquely awkward sideboard. The furniture was old and rather ugly; being the property of a merchant, even a wealthy merchant, it lacked the ducal opulence of Kinvale. But it was Imperial furniture. Bacon and eggs were an Imperial dish, and Kade's rather overlong dress was an Imperial garment. The cas.e.m.e.nt was closed, but the voices that drifted up from the street were Imperial voices. And she was going to summon Imperial dressmakers.

Kade was floating on pink clouds.

Inos was gritty-eyed and slack-shouldered from lack of sleep. Flocks of impractical ideas for escape thundered around inside her head like a riot of startled seagulls, but none of them would come to her hand. Realizing that she was being poor company, she now laid her plotting aside for a moment to find some tactful way of dealing with the bacon-and-eggs questiona"for the real reason Kade liked bacon and eggs had nothing to do with esthetics and was merely that she enjoyed anything soaked in fat and grease.

At that moment the door was, firstly, tapped briskly and, secondly, thrown open to reveal a young man already swooping a low bow. He straightened up, adjusted a snowy lace cuff very slightly, and flashed a dazzling smile. "Mistresses, I am at your service! Guide and fearless protector! Poet, troubadour, humble slave!" Then he stepped into the room and bowed again.

Inos blinked hard and exchanged a bewildered glance with Kade. This was either Skarash or a twin brother.

Skarash was one of the sheik's many grandsons and one of his favontes. But Skarash had been a solemn, surly youth in his late teens, and Inos had never thought of him as dashing before. In all the weeks since leaving Arakkaran, he had neither smiled nor spoken ten words to her, although that was admittedly correct Zarkian behavior toward a woman.

Now he was decked out like an imp, in silver-buckled half boots and hose of sea green, in puffy silken breeches and a white shirt with innumerable rufflesa"a very tall, slim-waisted young man with a mop of copper curls flopping cutely over his forehead. Without his straggly ginger beard he seemed somehow older and certainly better-looking. His cheeky, toothy grin was pure imp.

So was the way he lifted Inos's hand to kiss. Kade was right.i.t was nice to be back in the Impire.

"Good morning, Master Skarash."

"A magnificent morning! Beautiful weather outdoors, beautiful ladies indoors. The G.o.ds are generous." He bowed again. Skarash could not match Kinvale standards in polish and finesse, but he was certainly coming much closer than any other djinn Inos had yet met. He babbled like an imp.

"What is your pleasure for this magnificent day? Grandsire thought you might care to visit the shopping districta"there is no real bazaar here. Or just go sightseeing? Ullacarn is famous for its flowers." His garnet-red eyes twinkled at Inos.

Kade and Inos exchanged more glances of surprise.

"I would enjoy seeing the stores," Kade said wistfully. "Mistress Nimosha mentioned a couturier's establishment on this very street, I think?"

Skarash laughed loudly. "She also mentioned it to Grandsire, and he bit her ears off! He said that for apparel I must take you to Ambly Square, where the rich ladies go." He produced a washleather bag and jingled it suggestively. "I have never known him eager to spend money before, but he threatens I shall eat every groat I bring back. So you will have to help me, and see it all gets spent."

Inos felt cold fingers of suspicion stroke the nape of her neck. What was the mage up to now? "His hospitality brings honor on his house. Are there by chance some conditions attached to such bounty?"

The impudent smile on Skarash's face did not fade or flicker by one eyelash. "He did mention that he would enjoy a word with your gracious self before we set out. Possibly you might put that question to him in person?"

So there were to be strings. Unbreakable strings, most likely. Would Inos feel bound if she gave her parole? A promise made under duress might not be as binding as one freely made, but then she would likely be given the option of staying in a cell . . . and that thought reminded her of Azak.

"First Lionslayer is still in the dungeons?"

"One dungeon. Actually, it's only a subcellar, but it's too damp to store anything of value."

"May I visit him?"

"Certainly! Mistress, I a.s.sure you again that your slightest whim is my life's desire." Skarash opened the door and held it. Inos rose. Kade cast an indecisive look at the puffy rolls and the peach preserve. "I don't much care for dungeons. I think I'll wait here for you, dear."

"Shall I have more tea sent in?"

"No, that's not necessary," Kade said, "I've certainly finished eating." She sat well back in her chair and tried to look innocent.

The corridor outside was narrow and twisting and uneven. The whole edifice was like that, a maze of low ceilings, peeling plaster walls, and uneven floorsa"a conglomeration of umpteen buildings, altered and connected and rearranged. "To the left, Inos," Skarash said softly.

Inos stopped and met his eye. "You know who I am? Why I'm here?"

He smirked, stepping close to avoid a woman pa.s.sing with a load of laundry. He stayed close, looking down at Inos with a twinkle and a scent of rosewater.

"Of course! I'll call you Hathark if you wish, but it's almost as bad as Phattas." His voice had lost the djinn harshness, and his gestures were impish. Could this be sorcery?

"You are strangely changed from the surly young man I knew in the desert."

"Here we are in the Impire. When in Hub . . ."

" . . .do as the Hubbans tell you?"

"Correct." He took her arm, holding it tight. "This way. And remember also, I am a merchant. I always try to please, especially beautiful ladies. I give whatever you want to receive."

Was a flirtation what she wanted? Skarash seemed to be heading that way like a stampede of camels. But it would be fun to try a little banter again.

"The alteration is an improvement, I think. Which do you prefer beinga"imp or djinn?"

He grinned, and slid his arm around her. "With you, an imp." Again they had to make way for pa.s.sing baggage, and this time he contrived to crush Inos into a corner. "Djinns can't peek down a girl's cleavage very often," he added, doing so and licking his lips.

Inos placed a heel threateningly on his instep. Her borrowed dress was admittedly tight across the bosom, the neckline strained. She recalled that not so very long ago she had worried about putting padding in her clothes.