"How?" she said simply.

"It was in San Francisco. I was a deputy US Marshal then. A doctor prescribed the laudanum when my old shoulder wound got to troubling me, the wound I took in the war."

"What war was this?"

"Why, the war to free the slaves, Miss Lily," he said, looking up at her, and she nodded. "I never should have fought, I suppose. I wasn't of age-I was just sixteen when I ran off and joined the Union Army. But I saw my share of battles before taking a bayonet on the field of Gettysburg. The wound never bothered me much, not until I got older. That's when I saw the doctor, and he gave me the laudanum. Only long after the pain was gone, I kept on taking it. It was the only thing that kept me from remembering the...that is to say, it was the only thing that kept my gun hand steady. But soon it took more and more to stop the shakes, and I knew it was only a matter of time before the Marshals found out and took my badge. So I gave it back to them before they could, and I took a train here, to Castle City, when I heard they needed a sheriff." He hung his head. "Only it looks like I'll be turning in this badge, too."

Maudie's eyes were bright with tears. She sat at the table. "Oh, Bart, why didn't you tell me?"

He didn't look at her. "And what would you have thought of me, Maude?"

"I would have thought, Maudie, here's someone who needs your help. So you'd better see to it you take care of him. Because there isn't a finer man you could find, not for all the gold in the ground from here to California." She took his hand in hers, holding it tightly so it couldn't possibly tremble. "That's what I think, Bart."

He looked up and met her eyes, and only in that moment did Travis realize that Tanner and Maudie loved one another. He wondered why it had taken him so long to see. But then, no doubt they had made an effort to keep it hidden, even from each other. After all, he was the sheriff, and until only recently she had been the madam of a brothel. What would Castle City's society ladies whisper to their husbands if Tanner married Maudie? Travis doubted Tanner would have stayed sheriff long.

"Mr. Dirk," Tanner said, standing, "I've got to turn in my badge and gun to you now. You'll be sheriff in Castle City until the county board can hire a new one. And when they do, I hope they have the sense to give you the job."

The knight shook his head. "I swore an oath to serve you, Sir Tanner, and I do not break my word. Yet it is more than that. If ever this village needed you, it is now. Like me, you are a man of war, and that means you can feel it in the air even as I do. There is a battle coming."

For a moment, Travis was struck by how much Tanner looked like a knight of Embarr, with his drooping mustache and somber eyes. No wonder Durge called him Sir.

"If you're right, Mr. Dirk, and if there's a battle coming, then I'm not going to be any use in fighting it." Tanner lifted his right hand; his fingers vibrated like the wings of a hummingbird. "If I take the laudanum, or if I don't, either way I'm no use with a gun anymore."

"There are other ways to fight."

"Not men like these. Even you'd be hard-pressed to stop them, Mr. Dirk, and not just because you won't put bullets in that revolver you wear. I don't think there's anything a sheriff can do."

"But you're the law in this town," Maudie said, indignant now. "You can throw the lot of them in jail!"

"And then more men would come and break them out." Tanner shook his head wearily. "Laws only matter when they're the strongest authority around, Maudie. But there's another authority in Castle City, and that's the Crusade. People might respect the law, but they fear the vigilance committee more. Only someone outside the law himself can stop men like these."

Maudie glanced over her shoulder, then looked back. "You mean like the stories I've been hearing about town? They say he's going to come. The civilizer, Tyler Caine."

A jolt of energy coursed through Travis. Was it fear? Or something else?

"I've heard those stories, too," Tanner said. "And I wish I could believe they were true. He's wanted for killing men in five states and territories. All the same, I'd welcome the sight of him. But they say Tyler Caine is dead."

Travis wanted to ask why everyone seemed to believe this Tyler Caine had the power to stop men like Lionel Gentry. Only before he could speak, a strangled sound escaped Lirith. The witch went rigid, her spine arching. She clutched the back of a chair and threw her head back, her eyes shut.

Maudie rushed to her. "Miss Lily, are you well? What's the matter?"

Lirith went limp, and Durge rushed forward before Travis could move, gripping her shoulders, holding her upright. Her eyes fluttered open.

"I saw it," she whispered. "It was so clear."

Maudie wrung her hands. "What are you talking about, sweetheart? Are you ill?"

Travis moved closer. Lirith wasn't ill. He knew the witch had the power to sometimes glimpse the future. She had just done it-she had seen something with the Sight.

"What is it, Lirith?" Travis said. "What did you see?"

"It was him. He will come."

Tanner shook his head. "Who do you mean, Miss Lily? Who's coming?"

"Tyler Caine." She looked not at Tanner, but at Travis. "He's going to come and fight the men of the Crusade. And there's someone else he's going to fight, but I couldn't see who."

Travis clenched his right hand into a fist. Tyler Caine was dead; all the stories said he was. There was no way he could come there to Castle City, and even if he did, what could he really do? Lirith had once said the power of her Sight was far from perfect; her vision had to be mistaken.

Travis didn't want to talk about laudanum or Tyler Caine or the Crusade for Purity anymore. He glanced at Tanner. "Sheriff, was there a reason you came by?"

Tanner nodded. "I wanted to give you the news before you heard it somewhere else. I know you were a sort of friend of his, Mr. Wilder. As good a friend as he had, at least."

Travis shook his head, confused. "What are you talking about?"

"He was found by Edward Strange Owl this morning, in his teepee up on Signal Ridge," Tanner said. "Ezekial Frost. From the looks of it, he was mauled to death."

Lirith drew Travis and Durge into the lace-filtered light of the parlor. Travis could hear Maudie and Tanner talking in the dining room in low tones. From the sound of her voice, it seemed she was unhappy with something he was saying. A pair of cats lay on a balding velvet chaise, dozing in a stray sunbeam.

"What is it?" Travis said to the witch, keeping his voice quiet, although he wasn't certain why. There was something about Lirith's expression. Was it fear in her eyes?

"I ran into him. Yesterday, on my way to the jail to see Sareth. He said such strange things. I should have listened to him, I should have known something was wrong. But I was so worried about Sareth, and I just hurried on without thinking."

"Who is this you speak of, my lady?" Durge said.

She met the knight's questioning gaze. "Ezekial Frost."

Travis and Lirith sat on a horsehair sofa, and Durge paced back and forth as the witch described her encounter with the old mountain man. She shut her eyes, doing her best to repeat Frost's words exactly. Travis listened, at first in confusion, then in growing dread.

I know yeh know all about them Seven Cities...them cities of gold that men have hunted fer five hundred years...I seen yeh come on through, just like the gold man. I got to know the likes of him there. He'll be looking for a way back....

"Are you sure?" Travis said when Lirith finished, his mouth dry. "You're certain that was what Ezekial said?"

She nodded. "What is it, Travis? What are these Seven Cities he spoke of?"

"A legend. A myth, that's all. Centuries ago, when explorers first came here from across the ocean, the native people who lived here told them stories about seven cities filled with riches, cities where the streets were paved with gold. The explorers were greedy men, and for centuries they searched for the Seven Cities of Cibola. Only they never found them."

Understanding flickered across Lirith's face. "I have never been to Al-Amun-the land that lies south across the Summer Sea. But it is famous for its cities, which are the most ancient still standing in all of Eldh. I have heard the greatest of the cities are seven in number, and that they are built of white stone." She drew in a deep breath. "Stone that is painted the color of gold by the light of the sun. At least so the stories say."

Travis had no doubt those stories were true. How it had happened he didn't know, but he could picture it: Ezekial Frost falling into a ravine, or wandering into a forgotten cave in the lonely desert of southwestern Colorado, and finding it hanging on the air: a window rimmed with blue fire. Somehow in his wanderings, the mountain man must have come upon a way that was still open.

Where the gate was, or how it had come to be there, he supposed they would never know. But after the sorcerers of Al-Amun created the gate artifacts, would they not have used them to explore worlds beyond the void, just as the conquistadors explored the lands of the New World? Sorcerers could have found their way here. And perhaps people had gone through the other direction as well. Five hundred years before the Spanish explorers first came to Colorado, an entire people-the Anasazi-vanished without a trace.

Travis rose. "We have to go to the jail. We have to tell Sareth."

Durge stopped pacing. "Tell him what?"

"That a sorcerer followed us through the gate."

A quarter of an hour later, Travis, Lirith, and Durge burst through the door of the sheriff's office. One of the front windows was boarded up. Deputy Wilson sat behind the desk, a dime novel open before him. On one of the pages was a pen-and-ink illustration of a gunfighter clutching his chest, taking a fatal wound. Wilson looked up, confusion on his pink, pudgy face.

"What's going on, Mr. Dirk?" he said, hands still gripping the pulp novel.

Durge wiped sweat from his brow. "Give me the keys to the jail, Deputy. Now."

Wilson stared a moment, then jumped up, fumbling with the ring of keys at his belt. At last he got the ring unhooked and handed it to Durge. Durge unlocked the door to the jail. Wilson's jaw was agape as he watched the three of them enter. Durge shut the door behind them.

Sareth stood up in his cell as they entered. He and Lirith exchanged a long look, then glanced away. What had the two spoken about the previous day? It seemed to Travis that sorrow registered in his eyes as well as in hers.

He could wonder about it later. They were in danger, and Sareth needed to know about it; the Mournish man knew more about the Scirathi than any of them. In quick words, Travis explained what they had learned.

Sareth leaned against the bars of his cell, his expression grim. "One of the Scirathi must have remained in the Etherion after you destroyed the demon, Travis. We must not have seen him amid all the rubble. And after we passed through the gate, the sorcerer must have followed."

"But would we not have seen him if he followed us?" Durge said, glowering.

Sareth gripped the bars. "His kind are used to the magic of sorcery. We were all dazed for a short time after passing through the gate. The sorcerer would have recovered more quickly. That would have given him time to escape."

"I felt him," Lirith said, hugging her arms around herself, her dress whispering as she paced. "That first night we stayed in the cabin."

Travis remembered. Lirith had sensed a presence outside the cabin, only when they opened the door nothing was there.

"I imagine the sorcerer heard us speaking that night," Durge said, a grim light in his eyes. "We must assume he knows all that we discussed."

Travis swallowed, but he couldn't get rid of the metallic taste of fear in his mouth. If the sorcerer had heard them, that meant he knew about the gate and the scarab.

"I should have known it was one of the Scirathi." Sareth spat out the word like poison. "Only a sorcerer could make a monster of a dead man. They have performed their foul work on animals for thousands of years, combining different beasts into one. I should not wonder that they would do the same to a man. Although I did not know they could work with dead flesh."

Travis's stomach cramped into a sick ball. "Maybe Murray was still...fresh enough when the sorcerer got him. Do you remember what Gentry said that night? 'We'll take care of our boy.' I suppose he and Ellis took Murray right to the sorcerer."

Shock played across Durge's craggy face. "Are you saying you believe this sorcerer is in league with Gentry?"

"No, I'm saying he's in league with Gentry's employers." It was the only possible conclusion. "Look, the sorcerer made Calvin Murray into a...into whatever he is. And it was Murray who threw the rock through the window. There's no doubt that the message on that rock was from the vigilance committee. Somehow, the sorcerer and the Crusade are working together."

"But why?" Durge said, glowering. "Does not the sorcerer simply desire the gate artifact and the scarab for himself?"

Sareth nodded. "He would want them, yes. Badly."

"Then why would he ally himself with these other men? I can see how the vigilance committee might benefit from the sorcerer's abilities. But what does the sorcerer stand to gain?"

Sareth's lip curled in disgust. "The Scirathi dislike doing their own dirty work. Once he learned of the Crusade, I imagine he thought it would be easy to bend it to his own purposes."

But what were those purposes? If all the Scirathi wanted were the gate artifact and the scarab, he could simply have attacked them that first night in the cabin. So there had to be a reason he didn't. Travis voiced these thoughts to the others.

"Perhaps the sorcerer was weak when he came through the gate," Sareth said. "He may have been wounded in the Etherion and has only now regained his strength. After all, we have been here a month, and the Scirathi has only now made himself known."

Lirith coiled a hand under her chin. "Perhaps. Or perhaps he's simply in the same bind we are. If he heard us speaking, then he knows we have found ourselves adrift on the sea of time. If he uses the gate artifact to return to Eldh, it will be over a century before he left. I doubt he desires that any more than we do."

Understanding jolted through Travis. "Of course. He heard everything. And that means he's waiting for the same thing we are-Jack Graystone."

"And while he waits for the wizard Graystone to arrive, he is using the vigilance committee to gain power," Durge rumbled. "That way, he can be sure to get what he wants when the time comes."

Lirith heaved her shoulders in a sigh. "Ezekial must have seen us all come through the gate. I suppose he went looking for the sorcerer, hoping to find a way back to Al-Amun and to his seven cities."

"And Frost must have found him," Sareth said.

"There is still one thing I don't understand," Durge said. "Why does the sorcerer wish for us to release Sareth?"

Travis rubbed his shaved head. "That message might not have come from the sorcerer. He may just be letting them use Murray for their own purposes. It might just be Gentry and the Crusade who want Sareth."

"No, it's him."

The others looked at Sareth. The circles beneath his eyes were as dark as bruises. "My people and his are ancient enemies. Even as magic runs in his blood, so does hatred for me. He would see me dead before he goes."

"Then I shall see him dead first!" Lirith said, voice rising, hands clenched into fists.

The three men stared at the witch; her eyes glittered like black opals. Travis had never seen her like this. Always in his experience Lirith had shown a profound and abiding reverence for life. He had never believed she had the will or power to bring death. Until now.

"Beshala."

Sareth's word was soft. A plea. Or a prayer. Lirith drew in a ragged breath, then leaned against the bars.

"I won't lose you, Sareth," she said in a fierce whisper. "I will not."

He reached up to touch a dark ringlet of her hair that had slipped between the bars. "You could never lose me, beshala."

There was nothing more they could do now. Sareth was still safest at the jail-if he was safe anywhere. Durge opened the jail door, and they stepped into the front office. Deputy Wilson was still reading his dime novel. The young man must have been a slow reader, given that the book was still open to the page with the picture of the dying gunfighter. For some reason the illustration bothered Travis.

"I will not be at the boardinghouse for supper," Durge said. "But I will try to come to the saloon this evening and see if you are well."

Travis and Lirith returned to the Bluebell and spent the afternoon sitting in the torpid air of the parlor. For a time they spoke in low voices, but soon they ran out of words, and after that they were quiet, each lost in their own thoughts. The silence was punctuated only by the intermittent rattle of a wagon outside or, from somewhere upstairs, the sound of Maudie's coughing.

"She's getting worse, isn't she?" Travis said, scratching Miss Guenivere between the ears. "It won't be long now."

"No," Lirith said. "It won't."

"I wonder if Tanner knows."

"He knows."

Travis nodded. The little calico cat purred, rubbing her head against his hand.

The heat broke about five o'clock, and an hour later Liza came to the parlor to tell them supper was ready. They did their best to put on cheerful faces for Maudie. However, Maudie's green eyes were hazy and distant, and more than once she nearly dropped a dish off the table as she served supper, and Travis knew she was thinking about Bartholomew Tanner.

After supper they went upstairs to change clothes before going to the saloon. Lirith stopped to check on Niles Barrett, but there was little for her to do. Liza had been caring for him, keeping him clean and changing the dressings on his wounds. The Englishman was still unconscious. He no longer tried to speak, and only lay very still. Travis wondered if he would ever wake again.

"Give him time," Lirith said when Travis voiced his fears. "Lord Barrett is stronger than you think."

At seven o'clock, Travis and the witch headed to the saloon. The dusty swath of Elk Street was already beginning to clear out. No doubt word of what had happened to Ezekial Frost had already spread across town; after this, few would wish to be caught out after dark anymore. Only those who cared for whiskey more than their own skins.