The Tower remained standing, undisturbed. Chemosh did not come to tear it down stone by magical stone in order to rescue his beloved mistress.

"Give him time," said Nuitari.

The god had posted himself outside the room in which he kept Mina imprisoned, waiting for the Lord of Death.

More time passed. Mina remained in isolation in her cell, cut off from contact with gods or men, and still her lover did not come to free her.

"I underestimated you, my lord," Nuitari murmured to his unseen foe. "For that, I apologize."

Chemosh would be ecstatic to know the woman he loved was still alive. He would be furious at the deception played upon him. The Lord of Death was not one, apparently, to let either joy or rage rob him of his senses. Chemosh wanted Mina, but he also wanted the powerful holy artifacts Nuitari was keeping under lock and key inside the Tower. The Lord of Death was undoubtedly seeking a way to obtain both.

"What are you doing?" Nuitari asked his fellow god. "Have you run tattling to the other gods? Are you telling them how big, bad Nuitari restored the Tower of High Sorcery of Istar? How he recovered and claimed as his own a treasure trove of holy artifacts? Did you tell them that?"

Nuitari smiled. "No, I think you did not. Why? Because then all the gods would know the secret of the artifacts and once they all know, they will all want their toys returned. Where would that leave Chemosh? Back in the cold, dark Abyss."

At the end of the Age of Might, the Kingpriest of Istar had decreed that all the holy artifacts of those gods who were not good and righteous gods (as judged by the Kingpriest) were to be confiscated by the King-priest's armies of holy warriors. In addition to those that were confiscated, the Kingpriest offered rich rewards for all artifacts deemed to be used for evil purposes. Between the holy warriors, "good" citizens, thieves, and looters, the temples of almost every god on Ansalon was stripped of religious artifacts.

First, people took artifacts that came from the temples of the overtly evil gods-Chemosh and Takhisis, Sargonnas, and Morgion. The temples of the neutral gods were the next to fall victim to the artifact hunters, the claim being made that "any god who is not for us is against us."

Finally, as religious fervor (and greed) spread, holy warriors raided the temples of the Gods of Light, including those of the goddess of healing, Mishakal, for although she was Paladine's consort, Mishakal committed the sin of opening her doors of healing to all mortals, even those who were not deemed worthy of a god's blessing. Her clerics had actually been known to lay healing hands on thieves and prostitutes, kender and dwarves, and even wizards. When the clerics of Majere, god of justice, heard that Mishakal's priests were being beaten and her artifacts stolen, they sought to protest. Their monasteries were then raided. Their artifacts went next.

Soon, the holy artifacts of every god in the pantheon, with the exception of Paladine, were locked up in what had once been the Tower of High Sorcery of Istar but which was now known as Solio Febalas Solio Febalas, the Hall of Sacrilege. It was whispered that Paladine's priests were starting to grow nervous, and that more than a few had been seen locking up the god's holy relics in their storerooms. But even they were not safe.

When the Cataclysm struck Istar, the Hall of Sacrilege was destroyed in the fire of the gods' wrath. The gods were confident the artifacts had been consumed in the conflagration. They wanted mortals to live on their own for a while.

No one had been more surprised to discover the artifacts intact than Nuitari. His single idea had been to claim the Tower for his own. Finding the artifacts had been a bonus. He knew he could not keep a secret as powerful as this forever. It would be only a matter of time before the other gods discovered the truth and came to him, demanding the artifacts back. The artifacts were in a safe place, guarded both by powerful magical spells and by Midori, an ancient and bad-tempered sea dragon. Such safeguards would keep out mortals; they would not stop a god.

Nuitari didn't have to worry about that.

The gods would stop the gods.

Each god would want his or her own artifacts, of course. Each god would also want to insure that although he got his, no other gods would get theirs.

For example, Mishakal would not want Sargonnas, currently the most powerful God of Darkness, to regain his artifacts. She would seek out allies in her efforts to impede him-unlikely allies, such as Chemosh, who would side with Mishakal in this, for the Lord of Death was locked in a power struggle with Sargonnas and would not want the Horned God growing stronger that he already was. Then there was Gilean, God of the Scales, who might well oppose both the gods of Light and of Darkness, for fear that the return of these artifacts to any of the gods would upset an already teetering balance.

The sacred fur would really fly when the gods found out Nuitari was in possession of artifacts of Takhisis, the dead Queen of Darkness, and those of the self-exiled god, Paladine. Although their creators were gone, the artifacts remained, as did their holy power, which could be immensely useful-to any god or mortal who laid hands on them. The squabbling over these alone might well last for centuries.

Meanwhile, Nuitari's plan was to go about heaven making secret deals, quietly handing over an artifact here and another one there, playing the gods one off the other, all the while strengthening his own position.

Though Nuitari had hated Takhisis and had done his best to oppose her in everything she had ever done, he was like his mother in one regard-he had her dark ambition.

Opposing that ambition were Nuitari's two cousins, Lunitari and Soli-nari. The gods of White and Red Magic would not give a bent copper for the holy artifacts. The Kingpriest, not trusting wizards or their magic, had not kept any artifacts belonging to wizards. Those magical objects that were found (and there were few, for the wizards had hidden most away) were immediately destroyed. Nuitari's cousins would be furious when they heard he had gone off and built his own Tower. They would be furious-and they would be dismayed, grief-stricken. Since the beginning of time, the gods of the three moons had stood together in unity to guard what was most precious to them-the magic.

The three cousins had no secrets from each other. Until now.

Nuitari felt badly about breaking faith with his cousins, just not badly enough. Ever since his mother, Takhisis, had betrayed him by snatching away the world-his world!-he had determined that from then on he would trust no one. Besides, he had devised the means to appease his cousins. Nothing would be the same between them again, of course. But then, nothing would ever be the same for any of gods. The world-and heaven-had changed forever.

Nuitari wondered what Chemosh was up to, and this brought the god's thoughts back to Mina. Nuitari came here often. Not to question Mina. His Black Robes had been doing that, and they had found out precious little. Nuitari had been content to merely watch her. Now, on impulse (and thinking, too, that Chemosh might yet surprise him), Nuitari decided to interrogate Mina himself.

He had moved her from the crystal cell in which he'd first imprisoned her. The sight of her prowling about had proven to be too distracting for his wizards. He had wrapped her in a magical cocoon of isolation, so she could not communicate with anyone anywhere, and shifted her to a suite of rooms intended as living quarters for the Black Robe archmages who were destined to populate the Tower beneath the Blood Sea.

Mina was lodged in chambers meant for a high-ranking wizard. These consisted of two rooms, a sitting room and study, lined floor to ceiling with bookshelves-and a private bedroom.

She paced her quarters like a caged minotaur, walking the length of the sitting room, going from there into the bedroom, and then retracing her steps into the sitting room. His wizards reported that she sometimes walked like this for hours, walked and walked until she was exhausted. She did nothing else except pace, despite the fact that Nuitari had provided her with books on a variety of subjects, ranging from religious doctrine to poetry, philosophy to mathematics. She never so much as opened a single book, his wizards reported-at least, not that they had observed.

Nuitari had provided other forms of entertainment. A khas board stood on a pedestal in a corner. The pieces were covered with dust. She'd never touched it. She ate little, just enough to keep up her strength for pacing. He was glad he had not gone to the expense of putting down a rug. She would have worn a hole in it.

The God of Dark Magic could have melted through the walls, had he chosen, and taken her by surprise. He decided he would not start off their relationship in such an antagonistic manner and so, removing the powerful wizard lock from the door, he knocked and politely requested permission to enter.

Mina did not pause in her restless pacing. If she glanced at the door, that is as much as she did. Amused, Nuitari opened the door and walked into the room.

Mina did not look up. "Get out and leave me alone. I have answered all your foolish questions I am going to answer, or better yet, tell that Master of yours that I want to see him."

"Your wish is my command, Mina," said Nuitari. "The Master is here."

Mina halted her pacing. She did not cringe or appear the least discomfited. She faced him boldly, defiantly. "Let me go!" she demanded, then she added unexpectedly, her voice low and impassioned, "Or kill me!"

"Kill you?" Nuitari allowed his heavy lidded eyes, which always looked as if they were half-closed, to open. "Has my usage of you been that ill, that you should wish for death?"

"I cannot stand to be confined!" Mina cried, and her gaze roved about the room, as though she would bore through solid rock with her eyes.

She regained mastery of herself in the next moment. Biting her lip and looking as though she regretted her outburst, she added, "You have no right to keep me here."

"No right at all," Nuitari agreed. "But then, I am a god and I do what I want with mortals, your rights be damned. Though even I don't go about murdering the innocent, as does Chemosh. I have been hearing reports of his Beloved-as he terms them."

"My lord does not murder them. He gives them the gift of life unending," Mina retorted, "lasting youth and beauty. He takes away the fear of death."

"I'll give him credit. He does do that," Nuitari said dryly. "As I understand it, once you're dead, the fear of dying is considerably reduced. At least, that is how you explained it to Basalt and Caele when you tried to seduce them."

Mina kept her gaze level with his, which Nuitari found disconcerting. So few mortals could face him or any god. He wondered, with a flash of irritation, if this chit had been so bold with his mother.

"I told them of Chemosh," Mina said, unapologetic. "That is true."

"Neither Basalt nor Caele took you up on your offer, though, did they?"

No," Mina admitted. Their respect and reverence for you is great great.

"Let us say they like the power I give them. Most wizards like the power and would be very loath to lose it, even in exchange for 'life unending' which, from what I have observed, is more like death warmed over. I doubt if you'll convert many wizards to the worship of your lord."

"I doubt it myself," said Mina, and she smiled.

Her smile transformed her face, made the amber eyes glow, and Nuitari was drawn to their warm allure. He actually felt himself start to slide into them, felt her warmth congeal around him...

He brought himself up with a start and regarded her narrowly. What power did this mortal possess that she could seduce a god with her smile? He'd seen far more attractive mortal females. One of his Black Robes, a wizardess named Ladonna, had been known for her beauty and was far superior in looks to this Mina. Yet there was something about her that, even now, stirred him profoundly.

"Please understand, my lord. I had to try to convert them. It was the only way I could escape."

"Why do you want to leave us, Mina?" Nuitari said, feigning hurt feelings. "Have we mistreated you in any way? Beyond confining you, of course, and that is for your own safety. Basalt and Caele are both, I confess, a little insane. Caele, especially, is not to be trusted, not to mention the fact there are dangerous scrolls and artifacts lying about that could do you harm. I have tried to make your stay as pleasant as possible. You have all these books to read-"

Mina glanced at the shelves and made a dismissive gesture. "I have already read them."

"All of them?" Nuitari regarded her with amusement. "You will forgive me if I don't believe you."

"Choose one," Mina challenged.

Nuitari did so, taking a book off the shelf.

"What is the title?" she asked.

"Draconians: A Study. Can Good Come of Evil?"

"Open to the first page."

Nuitari did so.

Mina began to recite. "'Scholars have long held that because draconians were created by evil magicks, born of the perverted eggs of good dragons, draconians are evil and will forever remain so, capable of possessing no redeeming qualities. However, a study of a group of draconians who are currently settled in the city of Teyr reveals'-" She stopped. "Do I quote correctly?"

"Word for word," said Nuitari, and he snapped shut the book.

"I read a lot when I was a child at the Citadel," Mina said, and then she frowned, "or I think I must have. I can't really remember reading. All I remember is sunshine, and the waves rushing around my feet, and Goldmoon brushing my hair... Yet I think I must have spent a great deal of time reading, for whenever I pick up a book, I discover I have already read it."

"I'll wager you have not read this one." Nuitari caused a volume to materialize in his hand. "Spells of Conjuration for the White Robe, Advanced Levels."

Mina shrugged. "Why would I want to read it? I have no interest in magic."

"Indulge me," said Nuitari. "Read the first chapter. If you do this for me, I will grant you permission to leave your room for an hour each day. You may walk the halls and corridors of the Tower. Under guard, of course." For your own safety.

Mina eyed him, as though wondering what game he was playing. She reached out her hand.

Nuitari wasn't certain what he expected to gain from this experiment- perhaps nothing more than the pleasure of humbling this young mortal, who was altogether too arrogant and bold for his liking.

"I should warn you," he said, as he handed her the book, "this has a spell on it..."

"What kind of spell?" Mina asked. She took the book from his hands and opened it.

"A spell of warding," said Nuitari, watching in wonder.

He recalled when Caele had picked up this book. The author, a White Robed wizard, had placed a warding enchantment on it, so that only those of the White Robes could use the spells. Caele of the Black Robes had dropped the book with a curse, then spent the next few moments wringing his burned fingers and swearing. He'd sulked for a day and a half over the incident and refused to go back to help Basalt with the unpacking.

A disciple of Chemosh would certainly not be able to handle this book without punishment.

Mina ran her hands over the soft leather binding. She traced with her fingers the title stamped in gold on the cover.

Nuitari wondered if the warding spell had worn off.

Mina opened the book, studied the first page.

"You want me to read this?" she asked, skeptical.

"If you please," said Nuitari.

Shrugging, Mina began to read.

Nuitari was astonished, and he could not remember the last time a mortal had astonished him. She was reading the words of the language of magic, a feat only a trained wizard should be able to do.

Her pronunciation of the words of the spell was flawless. Even after hours of study, White Robed wizards would have stumbled through this spell, and here was Mina, a disciple of Chemosh, with not an ounce of moon-magic in her bones, reading it perfectly the first time. The spidery words should have clogged her mouth, stuck in her throat, burned her tongue. As he listened to her rattle them off in a bored monotone, he regarded her with amazement.

Nuitari might have concluded that Mina was a wizardess in disguise, except for one thing.

She read the spell flawlessly yet without understanding.

So might a human scholar of the elven language read aloud an elven love poem. The human might know and understand and be able to pronounce the words, but only an elf could give the words the delicate shades of meaning the elven author intended. Only a wizard could give these words the life required to cast the spell. Mina knew what she was saying. She just didn't care. Reciting the spell was an exercise to her, nothing more.

Had his mother, Takhisis, taught Mina magic?

Nuitari thought this over and rejected it.

Takhisis detested magic, distrusted it. She would have been well pleased with a world that had no magic in it, for she viewed magic as a threat to her own powers. Takhisis had not taught Mina magic, and she certainly would not have learned to read the language of magic from the mystics of the Citadel of Light. Nor yet from Chemosh.

Strange. Very strange.

Mina halted mid-sentence, looking up at him. "Do you want me to go on? The rest is just more of the same."

"No, that will do," Nuitari said. He took the book from her hands.

"I won the wager. I have an hour of freedom." Mina started toward the door.

"All in good time," Nuitari said, halting her. "I have no one to serve as your escort. Basalt is scrubbing up spilt blood and, as I said, you would find Caele a dangerous companion. I fear you must bear with me a while longer."

Nuitari decided to try another experiment on Mina-an oddity his Black Robes had observed about her. He secretly cast a spell on her. The spell was a simple sleep spell, one of the first learned by the novice mage. Nuitari could have cast it in an eye blink, but he did not want her to have any suspicion that he was working magic on her. Strand by strand, he plied the threads of magic back and forth, back and forth, weaving the spell over her and around her, the magic covering her like a warm blanket. All the while, he kept her engaged in idle conversation, so that she would not notice what he was doing.

"You know nothing of your childhood," he said to her, as he worked his magic. "According to what Basalt wrote, you were found on board an abandoned ship at the age of eight, washed up on the shore of Schallsea Isle near the Citadel of Light. You remember nothing-not your name, not your parents, nor what happened to the ship-"

"That is true," said Mina, frowning. She added impatiently, "I don't see what this has to do with anything."

"Humor me, my dear. You were adopted by Goldmoon, a former follower of Mishakal, who had been the first to bring the worship of the true gods back to the world after the Cataclysm. She was the one who brought the power of the heart into this world during the Fifth Age. Goldmoon was a good woman, a devout woman. She took an interest in you, loved you like a daughter."

He finished his sleep spell and cast it on Mina. Nuitari watched and waited.

Mina tapped her foot on the floor and looked meaningfully at the locked door. "You promised me an hour of freedom," she said.

"All in good time. As a child, you were curious about many things," Nuitari said softly, his wonder and mystification growing. "You were known for asking questions. You were particularly curious about the gods. Why had they left? Where had they gone? Goldmoon mourned the absence of the gods, and because you loved her, you wanted to please her. You told her you would go seeking the gods and bring them back to her- Do you feel at all sleepy?"

She glared at him accusingly. "I cannot sleep, not in this cage. I walk like this half the night trying to wear myself out-"

"You should have told me sooner that you suffered from insomnia," said Nuitari. "I can help."

He reached into the magic, snatching some rose petals from the ethers. As a god, he didn't need spell components to work this magic, but mortals were impressed by them. "I will cast a sleep spell upon you. You should lie down, lest you fall and hurt yourself."