"I already have. It's a copy of the one I filched from the Magister's archives in Thurkad, that day I tried to rescue you from Thyllan."

He threw it to her, she dropped the book and it fell open at a page toward the back. A folded piece of paper slid out.

"How did I miss that?" cried Llian.

"This has a later date. Months later." He read it aloud.

My dear Yalkara, I write to change the date and the place of our meet. I will come to Havissard earlier than I said in my previous letter, and in secret. I am being hunted. It could be the Council but I fear that it is Rulke. He wants my secret for himself. You may be in danger too, since I told him that I had shared my fears with you.

Rulke cares for nothing but his own glory. He's always envied me. I will bring everything I have to you, then go early to Alcifer, to my meet with Rulke.

Salutations, Kandor "Rulke told me that Kandor was murdered!" said Llian. "Probably to conceal the same secret that the crippled girl was killed for, all that time ago. Was Rulke the killer? He said himself that Kandor was paranoid. It just goes round in circles."

"Well, now you've got evidence, and suspects."

"Where was Kandor killed? That's the other thing I have to find out."

Karan shrugged. Then a thought struck her. "Llian! What if it was Mendark or Yggur? Or Faelamor? Go around asking questions and you'll likely suffer the same fate."

"Neither of them was even born when the flute was destroyed."

"Faelamor and Rulke were; and Tensor!" Karan began to feel afraid. "Look, can't you see! Whoever did it, if they're still alive, they'll kill anyone else who comes along with awkward questions. That's you. And me too!"

Llian sat down with his head in his hands. "I've got to follow the tale. These letters are crucial."

"I'll carry them secretly," Karan said. "Don't say anything about them, or your speculations, if we ever catch up to the others. You can show the book, since no one can read it. But don't tell anyone that Rulke told you where to find it. Let's get ready. We'll go in the morning.

They ate dinner in an uncomfortable silence. Finally Llian broke it. "Why did you go without me?"

"You were supposed to run for the gate."

"I was trying to protect you. I thought Rulke was going to kill you."

"Oh!" she said, staring at him with her hand over her mouth. "I'm so sorry! You were on your knees. I-it looked like you were swearing to Rulke."

"How could you think such a thing?" he cried. Then he went silent, brooding on the events that had led him here. If he had not collaborated with Tensor, would any of this have ever come about?

He, Llian, was as responsible as anyone for this disaster. What an idiot he'd been, meddling in things he knew nothing about, helping Tensor out of desire to see what would happen next, and to further the Great Tale that he planned to make out of it. Well, things would be different now.

He sighed heavily. "I've been stupid, Karan. The temptation to know what would happen next was overpowering."

"But I have no excuse either," said Karan. "Rulke set me against you so easily. I could feel the madness coming back and it was so strong that I panicked-I couldn't stop myself. As soon as I stepped on the plate the gate pulled me in. I've not stopped regretting it since."

She sat up suddenly. "Llian, swear that you ... haven't sold out to Rulke."

"I was sorely tempted, but I did nothing to be ashamed of." He looked troubled. "Unless I did so when I was in a trance," he said in an undertone that did not escape her.

Llian lay awake for a long time, brooding about his time with Rulke, which had begun to seem hazy, dreamlike. He could not believe his escape either now; it was all too convenient. He had dared to sup with the devil. How long before Rulke presented his bill? Was there anything he could do to get out of it? Well, over their centuries of persecution the Zain had learned how to protect themselves, and as a master chronicler he had his own mind-skills. How could he put them to best use? And what had Rulke done to him in the Nightland? Might he have made a pact with Rulke in his trance, and not even know it?

Afraid that the memories of the Nightland would vanish, he wrote down everything that he remembered in his journal, though nothing incriminating, of course. After that, Llian wandered around Kandor's bedroom, intrigued by the culture of the Charon. The place was full of beautiful, sensual art, things that would be priceless anywhere else, but they remained here because they had not been worth carrying across the Dry Sea. Even the knobs on the bedposts were engraved silver. Conscious that his purse was far from full, Llian climbed up and unscrewed one. It was heavy, many a tar of silver in it. He put it in the bottom of his bag.

That thought led him back to Kandor, and then to Rulke again. One thing he did remember-Rulke's temptation. The reward that Rulke had offered him, secrets that no chronicler had ever known, kept him on fire for half the night.

The trip down to the Dry Sea took almost as long as it had to come up. Llian was unwontedly silent, and though he had to be watched carefully lest he slip, made scarcely a plaint the whole way. Knowing his fear of heights, Karan found this remarkable, but attributed his silence to anger with her. Or perhaps he had exhausted his capacity to be afraid. As they descended into the thick salty air and the unbearable heat, Karan put her suspicions behind her.

Four long days later they made their camp near the foot of the mountain, just one cliff above the long barren slope that led to the Dry Sea. They ate a scant meal, much less than either wanted. Both were exhausted, so hard and fast had they traveled. Karan picked at the crumbs of skagg in her bowl, dismayed to think of the weeks they must yet travel on their miserable rations. They were perched in a patch of scrub, withered and twisted from the saline westerlies. In the morning their real journey would begin.

"Skagg and onions!" she said. "I'm sick of it already."

He did not reply. It was stinking hot though the heat was moderated by an occasional cooler waft tumbling down the mountainside.

"Tomorrow it begins again," Karan went on. "Water becomes more precious than diamonds." Her pale face was beaded with sweat, her riotous hair now limp, subdued. "I don't think I can bear this, Llian." She wandered off to a trickle, issuing from a cleft, to wash.

He watched her go. He tolerated the heat better than she did. His homeland, Jepperand, which bordered the eastern side of the Dry Sea, was scorching in summer.

Afterwards Karan sat looking west. The sun was setting; the skies so clear that the mountainous peninsula of Faranda could be seen, sixty or seventy leagues away. She was remembering the previous journey with Shand, and dreading the shorter though much hotter one that they were about to make.

She was worried about Shand too. Even in the spring he had found the heat debilitating. How would he be coping now? She imagined the old man getting weaker and slower, until the others had no choice but to leave him behind.

A hand shook her shoulder; she woke from her reverie. It was dark now, cooling down a little. Llian pushed a steaming mug of tea into her hand, which he had made from a bitter herb growing on the cliff top. She took a sip, grimaced, sipped again. "Llian ..." she began. He was staring out across the sea.

"I saw a light," he said slowly.

Karan stood up on tiptoe, one hand resting on his shoulder, following his gaze. A tiny spark glowed out on the salt.

"It's them!" she said, and her face lit up. "They're only a few days ahead. Quickly, let's make a signal fire!"

She began to build a hearth near the edge of the cliff. There was plenty of dry wood about and Llian soon had a pile large enough for a small bonfire. Before they got it going the light disappeared.

"They've gone without us," said Karan.

"They must look back sometime. We'll burn the fire all night."

They did just that, though by the early hours it was a struggle to keep the blaze going, for they had used all the wood that was readily available.

"The sun will be up soon," said Karan, sagging with exhaustion and disappointment. Her eyes were red from the smoke. "We'll never catch them. They'll be too far away by dark."

Just then the light reappeared. It shone steadily for a few minutes then blinked once, twice, three times.

"They're signaling!" said Karan.

"We'd better go carefully, until we're sure," said Llian.

They put on their enveloping desert robes. Karan's pale skin burned easily, so she was completely swathed in cloth, only her eyes showing through the slits of her eye covers.

Karan was too excited to sleep. She would have kept going all day, in spite of the heat, had Llian not restrained her. They walked fast all night, though Llian was constantly lagging. He was covered in cold sweat.

They began again in the early afternoon. Before dark, Karan, who had climbed a rock pinnacle, cried out, "I can see them!"

She sprang down again and hurried off. Llian followed her gloomily. It was almost dusk. Three shadows appeared on the other side of a broad patch of salt. All Llian could sense was hostility and menace. "Be careful," he shouted. "You don't know who it is!"

Karan kept going. Suddenly she began to sprint. "Malien!" she shrieked, and threw herself at the smallest of the three.

Malien staggered backwards under the impact, wincing.

"I'm sorry," cried Karan, helping her up again. "I forgot."

"It's practically healed." Malien hugged her. "How did you-?"

"Where's Shand?" Karan interrupted. "Is he all right?

"He is," said Malien, and Karan fell down at her feet, crying in relief.

Tallia and Osseion stood quietly by. "You're lucky we came at all," she said. "Some of us thought it was Rulke after us."

They all stood silently as Llian trudged toward them. He knew that they were wondering about the escape. His welcome was just as warm as Karan's was, though. Even Osseion threw his arms around him.

"Well met!" he said. "We'd given up hope long ago."

As they walked along Karan told what had happened in the Nightland, but as soon as she revealed that Llian had escaped separately, days later, Malien stopped dead.

"Llian," she said, giving him the look that he had seen more than once during his dealings with Tensor, "your story had better be true, for you will have to satisfy Mendark and Yggur as well as me."

Karan shivered and held his hand more tightly.

"You might at least hear me first."

"It's going to be a long night after we get there," Malien muttered.

Llian began to wonder if leaving the Nightland had been the right thing to do after all.

CRUSH THE.

SCORPION.

Llian hardly said a word during the time that it took to reach the camp. Malien's reaction had frightened him and he knew she liked him. How would his enemies react? What would Basitor do?

The camp was not far away, but it took all night and part of the next day to reach it, for the country was extremely rugged-black lava in flows one atop another, cracked so deep that Llian could have fallen in and never climbed out again, or forming shard-topped spines that were treacherous to clamber over and deadly to fall on, as he remembered from his accident-prone journey to Katazza. Between the flows were pools of hot ash and geysers issuing steam, boiling water or clots of stinking mud. The air had an acrid stench which made his eyes water.

The camp was set on a little field of black ash surrounded by a solid ooze of rock half a dozen spans high. The tents and sleds were hard up against the southern rock wall, clinging to the precious shade. When they arrived a banquet was spread out before them-an extra mouthful of water, an extra slice of skagg.

Fourteen Aachim stood in a ragged semicircle in front of the tents. A few looked pleased to see them-among them Asper, Selial and Xarah, slowly emerging from an abyss of grief at the death of her twin. Most of the others were unreadable-either waiting to judge them or hiding their true feelings. But one-Basitor, who had hated Llian long before the death of his friend Hintis-made no secret of his mistrust. It showed in his eyes, the set of his jaws, the watchful rigidity of his posture.

Tensor was propped up against the rock with his eyes closed. He did not acknowledge their arrival. Mendark looked smaller, dried out and aged, yet more self-assured than the last time Llian saw him. He was smiling. Not a warm smile, but not a bitter one either. Llian knew that Men-dark would listen and make up his own mind.

Yggur stood to one side of the group, dark hair shading his cavernous eyes. His very attitude smoldered with suspicion as Karan and Llian appeared.

"What's happened to Yggur?" Karan whispered to Malien.

"Rulke's coming was a terrible blow. Yggur failed in Katazza and it scarred him. We tried to get you back; we nearly lost Shand, Tallia and Asper. There was no choice but to seal the Nightland-" She broke off. "I'm sorry, Karan."

The silence grew uncomfortable. "I dare say you did what you had to," said Karan.

"We tried, down at the rift, but we pushed Yggur beyond his strength, with disastrous consequences. And for him too-he's as good as blind now. Be careful."

Karan, feeling sorry for Yggur, spun around. He started at the sudden movement, stumbled and nearly fell. She sprang forward to steady him. "I'm sorry to hear of your troubles-" she began.

His yellow-filmed eyes shifted, trying to focus but failing. He shoved her away. "I don't need pity," he choked, "especially from you! You caused all this in the first place. I'll have the price out of you one day, my little sensitive!"

"Karan!" came a familiar shout, and Shand came running from a cleft in the rocks. "I had given you up!"

"I'm as tough as your boots," she said, embracing him.

"That reminds me!" Malien frowned at Karan's feet.

Karan looked ruefully at the boots that she had borrowed from Malien to climb the Great Tower. "Sorry!" she said, squatting down. The boots were extremely battered now.

"I knew this would happen!" said Malien. "You might as well have them." She was smiling though.

"You're a miracle," Shand said, squeezing Karan in his arms. Tears sparkled in his beard. "How did you ever get free?"

"How indeed?" grated Yggur.

Giving him a nervous glance, Llian began his tale.

"Let's eat!" said Mendark.

After their short commons the extra food was a feast, though it was gone long before they had finished their stories. As soon as Llian mentioned Rulke's strange machine, he was interrupted.

"A construct!" said Mendark, leaning forward eagerly. "What was it like?"

"It was big. Bigger than the largest wagon, and it looked to be made of metal that was midnight black, shaped into curves and bulges-" Llian struggled to think of words for something so far beyond his experience. He began again.

"It was about four spans long, I suppose," holding his arms outstretched, one span. "Yes, at least eight good paces. And more than two spans wide, and nearly two high. There seemed to be some kind of seat on top, and a number of levers. But the strange thing was, it wasn't supported by anything; it simply hung in the air about knee-high. And inside-"

"You went inside?" Yggur demanded, squinting in Llian's direction. People were no more than moving shadows to him.