For an instant he was stunned, just enough time for the normally clumsy Llian to snatch the knife.

"Help!" Llian roared at the top of his voice. "Stay where you are, Yggur! Help, help!" He twisted his hand in the neck of Basitor's robes and pulled them tight, at the same time pressing the knife hard against the base of the Aachim's skull. "Roll off Karan, very slowly. Any sudden move and I'll drive the knife right through your spine."

Basitor's muscles tensed. Afraid of his enemy, Llian pressed really hard. "I will!" he hissed, twisting the cloth until Basitor began to choke. Yggur made a surreptitious move. "Stay where you are," grated Llian, "or I kill your only friend, blind man!"

Suddenly the Aachim relaxed and rolled sideways, enough for Karan to crawl out from beneath. There was a huge lump on her forehead and another at the back where it had been driven against the rock salt. She looked dazed.

Llian gave her his hand. "Come on!" he said. "Out of my way, Yggur!" He thrust the knife at his face, making sure that even Yggur could see it.

Yggur pressed back against the canyon wall. "I never forget!" he hissed. "Live in fear for the rest of your life. I swear that I will bring you to ruin, however long it takes."

SALTSTORM.

Karan sat down on a blocky outcrop of salt, mopping her brow. She reeked, and so did everyone else, for not a drop of water could be spared for washing, and there was no point in changing one set of sweaty, salt-saturated clothes for another just as foul. A desperate, grinding week had passed but their progress had been negligible. Every afternoon there had been a saltstorm that lasted well into the night, precious traveling time lost, and as it was the time of the new moon the nights were very dark. They were still in the lava fields, treacherous country that was dangerous at night, so each day they began as soon as there was light enough to see and walked until the heat became unbearable.

Seven days after Karan and Llian had rejoined the rest of the company, they crossed off the basalt to a place where the salt had been forced up into blocks as tall as towers, or broken into cracks and crevasses, and the upthrust blocks were sculpted by the wind into fantastic shapes.

The path now led along the base of a wind-carved canyon some eight or ten spans high, with a flat floor of gritty salt that squeaked underfoot. It was hard to walk on but at least there was shade, allowing them a few more hours of travel each day.

Karan and Llian were together at the rear, not the best position because they breathed dust stirred up by those in front. Llian preferred to walk behind because he could see where everyone was. Neither could speak; their mouths were too dry. Anyway, they had exhausted all conversation long ago-everyone was too irritable.

In the mid-afternoon, with flat country ahead of them, they set out again. A murky yellow cloud hung in the hazy distance. They trudged on, wanting to make as much progress as possible before they were forced to camp.

"This looks worse than the others," Osseion muttered. The cloud was much bigger than any other saltstorm they had experienced. It was a monster, the dust towering as tall as thunderheads, an awesome sight on the featureless plains.

"Hoy!" he shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth.

The lead Aachim, far ahead, kept plodding head-down across the salt. Osseion wrenched the hand axe off his pack, banging on the metal base of the water sled to catch their attention.

Clang! Clang! Clang! They woke to the danger and came plodding back. Already the saltstorm covered half the sky.

"Tents won't hold against this," shouted Asper.

"There were caves back there," yelled Karan.

They ran down a split in a buttress of salt. Further along it became a cave blasted out by the storms of ages past.

"No good!" said Shand. "The wind's blowing straight in."

"No time to find a better one," Asper shouted above the noise of the wind. The advance gusts were already stinging their eyes with grit. "If we make a door with our tents and sleds ..."

"It'll never hold in this wind."

"If it doesn't, we're dead!"

They retreated into the cave, which was twenty or thirty paces long, winding and multi-branched. The walls and roof were wind-scoured layers of red, brown and yellow-colored salt, the floor salt gravel that crunched underfoot. The Aachim worked furiously, one group unstitching their tents while others took apart the water sleds and reassembled them into a frame the size and shape of the entrance, to which they would fasten the tent canvas to make a door.

"Hurry!" Mendark yelled, but the work could not go any faster.

A dust gale blasted in, whiting out the shelter. Karan scrunched herself up in a corner with her back to the wind. She had her cloak over her face but still the dust got through. Beside her she could hear Llian choking.

Just as the door was being installed the storm struck in fury. The canvas cracked like a whip. Osseion and a group of Aachim, who were holding the frame, were driven hard back against the wall by the wind. Someone yelped, then the door was torn out of their hands and hurled across the cave, right at Llian.

Basitor, who was walking by, threw himself to his right and caught the frame with one hand. It whipped him off his feet, his arms and legs whirled in the air, then the edge of the frame crunched into the wall beside Llian's jaw. Basitor thudded after it.

Llian scrambled up. "You saved my life!" he said incredulously.

Basitor rolled over. Coming to his knees, he spat out blood and a broken tooth. Then he smiled, a warming smile, and Llian realized what a brave friend Basitor could have been, in other circumstances.

Slowly the smile faded. "But what have I saved it for?" said Basitor. He turned away, his arm hanging oddly.

"Asper, I think I've dislocated my shoulder." Asper inspected the injury. "Hold still." With a quick snap that brought tears to Basitor's eyes he popped the shoulder back in its socket.

The canvas was still flapping, the twisted frame trying to lift itself into the air again. Wind roared in through the door, filling the room with white. Karan sat on it, pulled her hood over her head and waited.

The squall passed. The Aachim stood around the frame, planning how to re-form the twisted metal. After half an hour or so they had the door up again. It flapped, booming like a big drum. Every gust sent puffs of salt squirting in through the gaps. Osseion was covered in layers of white dust, scalloped up his arms like tiny sand dunes. Everyone else was the same.

All that night the wind howled down the canyon, wailing like the wind in Shazmak, though more unnerving; snapping the canvas, putting even the Aachim on edge.

The next day dawned. There were now many more empty waterbags than full ones. The cavern was dimly lit by day with a pale yellow light seeping through crevasses in the salt. Their nights were lit by the globes purloined from Katazza. They went over their situation again and again. Llian's news of the construct had taken away their last hope. Rulke had a potent new weapon, while they were in disarray and faced a journey of months just to return to Thurkad. And what would they find there?

Tensor sat dully, head bowed, taking no account of anything. But occasionally when Llian was talking, or even sitting silently, he would look up to find the Aachim's gaze on him, a stare so impersonal that it stripped away all his petty secrets and self-delusions. Seemingly Tensor's soul was so bare that the secrets of others could not be hidden from him. At such times Llian was reminded of Rulke's offered reward-knowledge that a chronicler could only dream about. Desire for it burned so hot that he was sure it showed on his face. He felt that Tensor was reading him-reading a betrayal that Llian had committed but could not remember. Had he? And if he had, why would Tensor protect his secret?

Llian lay sleeping in an out-of-the-way corner of the cave when he felt a sharp pain in his temple. It was a strange, spiky ache like nothing he had ever felt before. He sat up, gasping, to see the edge of a dark cloak swirl out as its wearer disappeared around the corner. On hands and knees, for the headache was growing steadily worse, he peered after it. No one was visible.

"What's the matter?" Karan asked sleepily.

"A pain in my head. It felt as if someone was trying to prise my skull open."

She ran around the corner but soon reappeared. "I couldn't see anything unusual. It's this place-the heat gives me headaches too. Try to get some sleep."

She dozed then woke again, taking a stroll up to the door. The canvas was still booming in the wind. Someone had plugged most of the gaps around the door frame, though dust still came through.

Osseion was playing a game with Shand, using dice carved out of rock salt. Mendark lay snoring in a corner. Yggur and Basitor had spent most of their time at the rear of the cave, talking together. A group of Aachim sat in an embayment, reciting an epic poem in an eastern dialect that Karan did not know. It went on all day with never a pause. Malien accompanied them on a small instrument with many strings. To one side Asper was manipulating Tensor's back, as he did every day, though so far it had effected little improvement. All was calm, save for the shrieking wind.

Karan ambled down to check on Yggur. At the rear the cave was scalloped into a number of cubicle-sized recesses. Yggur and Basitor were in the furthest. Creeping along the wall she was able to get quite close.

Looking over a knob of rock, Karan saw Basitor with his back to her and Yggur facing him. The fading glow of one of the Katazza lightglasses illuminated the gravelly floor between them. On it sat a curious device, constructed of wire and chips of crystal, in the shape of a round basket. A larger crystal in the center winked ruby-red as she moved. One of the offcuts from the ill-fated ampliscope, she supposed.

Karan felt a pang of alarm, a warning from her talent. As she moved the gravel rolled underfoot. Basitor closed a meaty hand over the light.

"Go away, little snoop!" he said roughly.

Karan turned back to the lighted end of the cave, more worried than ever.

Much later, her sleep was ripped apart by the most horrifying screech that Karan had ever heard. She sprang up, looking around frantically, sure that it had been Llian. The cave was dark, for it was not long till dawn. Her heart was pounding furiously. No one else looked to be awake, or even to have heard what she had.

She fumbled out her own little lightglass, the one Maigraith had given her at Fiz Gorgo. Tallia had carried it all the way from Thurkad. By its light she saw Llian lying asleep. It must have been a dream, she thought, and lay back down.

Shortly she was disturbed again by a whistling hiss like a steaming kettle. She sat up. Llian lay on his side, apparently still asleep, but as rigid as a rod. The sound was air being forced through his clenched teeth. His eyes were staring; his fists knotted.

"Llian, what is it?" she whispered. His fingers clenched round hers so hard that it brought tears to her eyes. Then suddenly she understood.

Karan wrenched her hand out of his. "Malien! Shand!" she shrieked. "Quickly!"

Karan raced toward the back of the cave. Behind her lights appeared as everyone scrambled out of their bedrolls.

She rounded the corner. Basitor loomed in front of her, twice her size. Without thinking she lowered her head and butted him below the ribs. With an explosive gasp he doubled over.

She ran round him to where Yggur squatted, trying to get up. On his head was the basket of wire and crystal, now lit up like a chain of fairy lights. The ruby at its center glowed like the scorpion nebula in the night sky.

Yggur was still mouthing words. Behind her Llian cried out, audibly this time. Snatching Yggur's walking staff, Karan brought it down hard on the basket. It bent slightly then sprang back into shape.

Yggur flung out his fist. Salt exploded off the wall beside her. Master of the Secret Art that he was, Karan knew that he could kill her with a single blast, if he could find her in the dark.

She ducked sideways then drove the end of the staff into his belly. As he doubled over she struck at the basket again, trying to knock it off his head. She gave it two good strokes, but without dislodging it, then she was seized from behind, two long arms went around her chest and began to squeeze.

Karan struggled and kicked, but Basitor was far stronger. The staff fell from her hand. She began to feel an intolerable cracking pressure in her ribs.

Yggur reached out to her, the device on his head glowing brighter than before. Pain erupted behind her eyes. She could feel her ribs about to break. Desperately she tried to take a breath but could draw no air in. She tried to make a sending to block the device Yggur was using, but she could no longer think straight.

Colors appeared behind her eyes. One of her thrashing feet touched the wall. Karan pushed against it with all her failing strength. Basitor lurched backwards, off-balance, and Yggur's blast ripped pieces out of the cave wall. The pressure eased.

"Hold her still!" Yggur grated. He felt around for his staff, found it, and began to raise it above her head.

Karan could feel the strength running out of her. She tried to protect her head with her arm, but was too weak to move.

Basitor went "Ugh!" and crumpled up.

Osseion and Shand stood there. Osseion was rubbing his fist. Shand tore the device off Yggur's head, hurled the staff into the back of the cave, then they all went back to the light.

RESOLUTION.

FROM DESPAIR.

They never did learn what Yggur had been trying to do-force the truth out of Llian, possess his mind, or destroy it. Despite Mendark's threats, Yggur refused to say. He was warned to keep away from Llian, and Malien spoke to Basitor, but that was all they could do.

All Llian knew was a memory of bright pain that had seemed to come from all directions. The attack had so shaken him that he would not even talk to Karan about it. The device-a primitive sensing tool-was destroyed and its components dropped down cracks in the salt.

"If Yggur ever gets control of a sensitive, watch out!" Malien said to Karan.

She knew they would try again-only her vigilance protected Llian now. But the constant attacks on Llian were undermining her faith in him. What had he done during those five days with Rulke?

Another dreary day went by. The storm howled outside, unabated. They were all demoralized, stuck helplessly in the middle of nowhere while their enemy had the world to himself. Both food and water were dwindling rapidly.

"How much left?" Mendark called. Asper was counting the waterbags yet again.

"Eight days, at most."

"And how far to the lakes, Tallia?"

"The same as the last ten times you asked!" she snapped. "Eight or nine days!"

Malien called the company together. "We've still enough water to get there, if we go now."

"We can't go out in a saltstorm," said Shand. "We won't last a day."

"If we stay here any longer we won't make it either," she replied.

No one spoke for a long time.

"If we weren't so encumbered ..." said Yggur.

"Oh?" said Mendark. "What are you suggesting? That we leave behind Tensor or Selial?"

"Or Llian!" said Yggur. "The weak will probably die anyway. They may as well help the strong to survive."

"I would put blind men in the dispensable category," Mendark said ominously.

"We leave no one behind," said Malien. "Not Tensor, not Selial, not Yggur ..." Her eyes searched through the faces, settling on one up the back. "Not Llian either."

Llian shivered. Karan did too. "Not while I'm alive!" she whispered.

"We're wasting time," said Mendark. "Since we are stuck here, I propose that we make plans to combat Rulke. We may yet survive, and if we do, we must have a weapon to put up against this construct. Bring out the Mirror, Shand, and let's see what it can tell us."

Shand looked reluctant, but he withdrew the Mirror of Aachan from its case and held it out, a tight coil of black, like a metal scroll. It began to unroll, then stuck and he had to ease it open with its fingers. With an audible snap it formed a hard plane, a sheet of black metal scribed around the edges with silver glyphs. In one corner was a symbol made of three golden balls grown together, set in a circle enclosed by a triplet of crimson crescent moons. Within the written frame was a reflecting surface like stiffened quicksilver. Peering over Mendark's shoulder, Karan saw only the reflection of his face.