"We ran him aground, though it was a dicey business for a while. I thought he was going to have our bottom out on a reef." The fog parted enough for them to see the beautiful boat stuck fast on a mudbank, surrounded by dozens of chacalots. "There he'll stay, for he has no dinghy. Osseion cut it loose in the fog. About the only smart thing he's done all day." Osseion smiled sheepishly. "The tide is running out and won't be this high again for a fortnight."

"A good morning's work," said Tallia. "Let's get to customs and swear our complaint."

"He has their protection," grunted Pender.

"My aunt is the Deputy Governor, remember. He won't buy his way out of this. Ah, my ankle!"

Osseion took her foot in his hand. "You won't be walking on this for a while," he said. "It's broken."

Tallia spent a fortnight with her family, but by the end she was becoming increasingly worried about Mendark. He had asked them to be ready in fifty days, but forced into inaction by her ankle she could no longer restrain her curiosity at his secrecy.

"I have to find Mendark," she said.

There had been a reward from the merchants of Roros for ridding them of bel Gorst. Though not enough to make up for the lost cargo, it at least rescued Pender from immediate ruin. He was very quiet, not even mentioning the profits that would be lost, so a day later they headed north to Strinklet again, on the great estuary of the Wu Karu. Despite the fact that her ankle was still in plaster and abominably uncomfortable in the heat, Tallia hired horses and set out for Tar Gaarn with Osseion and Jevander.

FAELAMOR'S GATE

Faelamor led Maigraith north-east out of Bannador. They trekked through Faidon Forest, where loggers were stripping out the last of the great ironwoods to build the wharf city of Thurkad ever higher above the mud. Fording the Saboth River at Gance, they found its vast gravel banks exposed because of the drought, while a solitary prospector panned the riffles for platinum. Continuing north, Faelamor then turned west toward Dunnet, buried in the heart of the great forest of Elludore. Dunnet was an isolated land hemmed in by mountains on its western side, the rugged lands of Bannador to the south and a chain of barren hills to the north. The journey took about a fortnight, and though they passed through war, blockade and devastation, they were not hindered.

Several times on their wandering journey they heard tales of Yggur's return and the fate of the Second Army. "Just as I told you," said Faelamor. "What do you think of this lover of yours now?"

Maigraith felt the last bond to Yggur fall away. The man was a monster; he meant nothing to her anymore. But with that decision made, what choice did she have now but to serve Faelamor again, the woman who had dominated her for the whole of her life, the one to whom she owed a burden of duty that could never be repaid?

"I am over him," Maigraith said tersely.

From that point on, with every step Maigraith's newfound assuredness was stripped from her, and the misery, despair and nothingness of her previous existence were renewed. All of her confidence and self-worth faded into a memory of another life, and each step woke the nightmare of that life. By the time they reached the refuge that Faelamor sought, deep in the forest-clad lower slopes of Dunnet, the new self that Maigraith had constructed so painfully was gone. Faelamor had taken back her life, commanded everything she did, and though her orders were now clothed in a veneer of courtesy, the bones underneath were as obdurate as ever.

"Here we are at last," said Faelamor, sinking down on a mosscovered stone with a sigh that had the weight of centuries of frustration behind it. "Of all places in Santhenar, this could almost be Tallallame. I can do it, here."

Her refuge was a deep valley whose upper end ran right up against the mountains, terminating in a precipice that reared very high and inhospitable. The ridges on either side were sheer and sharp, hazardous for climbing, a defensive wall. The entrance to the valley was a slot cut by the river through limestone, once a cave whose roof had fallen, and the river rushed deep and fast and cold where the cave had been. The way in was a narrow ledge beside the river. Not impregnable, but difficult of approach and easy to defend. Upstream of the slot the valley belled out, dark beneath giant trees, moist and misty at the upper end where stairstep waterfalls tinkled down a cliff three hundred spans in height. Vines trailed from the trees; ferns carpeted the ground. It was a place much to the liking of the Faellem, a shadow of their own world. Faelamor had discovered it many years ago and remembered it, thinking of such a need as this.

"It is very beautiful," said Maigraith, gazing around her.

Faelamor sprang up again. "Not just beautiful, but right! Whatever I do will work better here because of it, and we have much to do. How I need my people now."

"They are still in Mirrilladell, are they not?"

"Most are, three hundred leagues away." Mirrilladell was a land of lakes, swamps and vast cold forests on the southern side of the Great Mountains. "But however far, I must bring them here. This will be the first of your great tasks."

Maigraith held her breath. This was what she had been waiting for all her life. Prepared for, at least. She wasn't sure she wanted it.

"First I will try to link to the Faellem. You will support me! Sit here."

"You can link?" cried Maigraith, astonished. "I thought ..."

"That talent comes from the Faellem, though even among us it is rare. I did not teach you that?"

"Then why didn't you go with me to Fiz Gorgo, to steal the Mirror?"

"I wish I had," Faelamor said grimly.

The initial link was made, a smooth, sensuous coupling of their minds, as voluptuous as custard. Maigraith liked it no more than Karan had when they had first linked outside Fiz Gorgo last autumn. It was an invasion of her most personal spaces, the only parts kept completely to herself in all the years that she had endured Faelamor's domination. Her mind rebelled and flung off the link; she hurled herself backwards across the grass.

"Keep your distance!" Maigraith choked. "You link with me on my terms, or not at all. Keep out of my mind."

Faelamor rose slowly to her feet, flexing her fingers. Maigraith tensed, wanting to run. Then, whatever Faelamor had been about to do, she thought better of it and sat down again. "As you wish. Only the link matters now. We'll try again, if you are ready."

Maigraith was amazed. Perhaps she had some power over Faelamor after all.

After several more tries Faelamor managed to forge a link that was bearable to Maigraith, one that kept well away from any conscious part of her mind.

Ellami, Ellami, Faelamor called.

The world silence, vast and empty, saturated Maigraith's mind.

"So far away," said Faelamor. "So hard." Ellami; Hallal; Gethren.

"They do not reply," Faelamor said somewhat later.

She called and called and called again. Still there was no answer! Faelamor looked haggard. "Why do they not respond?" she gasped, gripping the log with both hands to save herself from toppling off. "I feel very weak. Give me a little of your strength."

Maigraith felt a sensation as if her lifeblood was pumping out her throat across the link to Faelamor. Suddenly dizzy, she had to prop herself up with her arms. The flow increased to a flood. Beads of cold sweat broke out on her forehead.

Faelamor kept on until tears squeezed out of her eyes. Maigraith felt as flabby as a week-old balloon. She almost fainted and had to lie down on the grass.

At last an answer came, though it was very faint.

Who calls? came a wispy little straw voice. Is that you, Faelamor?

It is I, she replied. It is time. Come to me in Elludore, northwest of the ancient city of Thurkad, on the island of Meldorin. I have made a refuge in the lower mountains, a land called Dunnet. She did not need to say forest-where else would the Faellem hide if they had the choice?

Maigraith could sense anger, resistance to Faelamor's call.

Why did you not call us before? Where have you been all this time?

No time! Faelamor gasped. Come! Come! Come quickly and secretly.

There was no response. Are you coming? cried Faelamor. The link began to thin. Are you coming? Again no answer. Faelamor was frantic. Please, Ellami! I'm begging you! You must come.

Faelamor sank to the ground and buried her face in the grass. Call me! Call me tomorrow!

The link faded like the sky after sunset. "They're coming!" Faelamor sighed, sinking to the ground in exhaustion. "They will come. They must!"

Maigraith said nothing. Why must they come? They had exiled Faelamor when Maigraith was but a child. She did not know why, but the mystery of her life and her parents' deaths was at the heart of it.

Faelamor woke next morning in a state of high anxiety.

"What's the matter?" asked Maigraith, watching her pace back and forth.

"The Faellem should have called." Faelamor turned away abruptly.

By the end of the day she was practically beside herself. Normally so controlled, she had even resorted to biting her nails. The call never came.

"Why don't you call them again?" Maigraith said as she prepared dinner.

"I can't!" Faelamor screeched. 'To link over such distances can't be done again so soon."

"I thought ..." began Maigraith.

"To send a link one league is hard. Two leagues, four times as hard. Three leagues, nine times. But to link to someone 300 leagues away-work it out for yourself!" Faelamor was not good at mental arithmetic.

"Ninety thousand times as hard," Maigraith murmured.

"Just so! It has probably never been done in the history of the Three Worlds. I might try a dozen times without succeeding, so weak is the signal. But there are hundreds, thousands of Faellem. If they all link together they can overcome the tyranny of distance."

"If they choose to," murmured Maigraith, to bait her.

A few days later they made a second attempt, but though they forced till Faelamor could not hold her head up, they heard nothing.

"Perhaps they're hiding from you," said Maigraith, half-expecting Faelamor to lash out at her.

Scrunching up her eyes to prevent the tears from welling out, Faelamor whispered, "They are; they've put up a barrier against me! Me, who led them here to Santhenar, and ever after. They leave me no choice but to do what is forbidden."

She did not rise from her couch of boughs and ferns for days. Whenever Maigraith went to check on her, she snapped, "Go away! I'm thinking!" Then one evening, after they had been there for more than a week, Faelamor broke her selfinduced silence.

"I was right," she said soberly.

Maigraith prodded the fire, which she kept alight because it helped to keep the mosquitoes off. She did not feel any curiosity, but Faelamor needed to talk and therefore Maigraith must listen.

"I was right, when I embarked upon this great gamble three centuries ago. All that time I have been plagued by self-doubt, by the thought that I had cast aside my honor for a shadow. That I had done this great evil for something that could never be."

Maigraith sat up. What was she talking about? She felt a sudden chill, an urgent need for warmth. She held out her hands to the fire. The air sighed in the treetops. The faintest chuckle came from the river, thirty paces away. It seemed amused by their petty dealings.

Faelamor stared at the coals, speaking in a monotone. "Even before my enemy Yalkara found a flaw in the Forbidding and fled, I suspected that there might be a way. I fought her for it and I was defeated. She had learned too many secrets with the cursed Glass." There was nothing in Faelamor's voice. She might have been describing preparations for their dinner.

"But before Gethren dragged me to safety I had a glimpse in that Glass and I saw a possibility! I collapsed and knew nothing for weeks. But later, as I lay brooding, full of hate and self-loathing, I learned that Yalkara's success was not as great as I'd thought. Her injuries were so grave that she had to flee unready. I learned that she had left something behind to finish her job. Then, as I lay in my bed of pain and misery, bitterness and despair, I conceived a plan. I saw how, by corrupting that gift, I might make of it a tool that I could twist to my own purpose, and smash the Forbidding!"

Maigraith was so shocked that she almost leapt up and ran. There had been talk of breaking the Forbidding at the Conclave, but it had never been more than talk. Since then she had sometimes thought about that, and what the consequences might be.

"I was never sure though," Faelamor went on. "It was not until I used the Mirror in Katazza that I knew I was right" Something old and frightening showed in her eyes, then she looked away as though uncomfortable with what she had revealed, or whom she had revealed it to.

So Faelamor did plan to break the Forbidding. What would that do to Santhenar? Was it right to help her? The brief taste of power had opened Maigraith's eyes to the world and her place in it. There had to be a role for someone like her, who wanted neither power nor wealth, but only what was right.

Once she had even spoken to Yggur about the Forbidding, for she knew that he had come closer than any to fathoming its essence.

"I don't know what would happen," he had said, "nor, I suspect, does anyone else. No one understands the Forbidding. Why did it come about? We don't know. Did Shuthdar make it deliberately, a last corruption of that most beautiful thing, the golden flute? A last malicious act before he destroyed it and himself? Or did the Forbidding just happen, the balance trying to reassert itself after so long a distortion, and so violent? Or was there another power there at the ending? Rulke was there, Yalkara and Kandor; most of the great of that era. Such an assemblage of strength as has never been seen since. Was the Forbidding a plan, or the failure of one? Did it form at once or slowly crystallize over the following weeks? We do not know, only that when the Faellem and the Charon made to go back to their own worlds, the Way between the Worlds was closed."

"Did Yalkara have anything to do with it?" Maigraith had asked. "She knew enough to find the flaw in the Forbidding when the time came."

"I believe that the Forbidding protects us," said Yggur, "whether it was made for that purpose or not. I do not believe that breaking it will restore the balance that existed before the flute. I think that it will break open all the paths between the worlds. Santhenar will lie naked to the void.

"Our world would be like the village below the dam. When the dam bursts, the village is swept away. If the Forbidding is broken Santhenar will be torn apart, for we have no defense against what is in the void. Perhaps there is no defense. Faelamor trifles with what she does not understand."

"Smash the Forbidding!" said Maigraith aloud, and the Yggur in her head was gone. "But what of Santhenar? Would you condemn the world that sheltered you so long?"

The firelight turned Faelamor's cheek to rose, to scarlet. She turned her head to Maigraith, and though her eyes were in shadow, golden specks swam in them, in eyes that were old and deeper than the bottomless sea. Her voice was pitiless.

"When one breaks out of a prison, one does not take care that the gaolers are safe. Santhenar can look to itself. I looked in the Mirror in Katazza and saw what I wanted to see. There is a way. I can break the Forbidding. I will take the Faellem home, even if all else falls into ruin around me. That I have sworn to do. My duty is clear."

"How will you do that?"

"I dare not tell you, or anyone. Suffice it to say that there are many steps, and much preparation. The first step is done; the instrument is prepared. It is flawed but it will serve. The second-to see the way. That too I have done. In the Mirror I saw Yalkara's path. But there are many things I must have, and many things I must learn, and so little time. It is a race against Rulke, now that he has shown his hand, for whichever of us is ready first will spoil the plan of the other. And perhaps against Mendark too, if he survived Katazza. On my way back from there I discovered a great danger, something that cannot fall into the hands of the Council, or Rulke either. Perhaps an opportunity. No, I will not even think of that.

"Let's get to work. The Faellem have let me down. I prayed that I would not have to take this path, but now I must. We must go to far-off places, but there isn't time. I must make a gate, like to the gate that Tensor made in Katazza. That secret I also had from the Mirror."

"Make a gate!" exclaimed Maigraith. "Aren't you Faellem forbidden to use such things?"

"Indeed. Any gate violates the prohibition against devices that we swore to uphold eons ago. To make one is a sin of mortal dimensions, and in using it I will suffer cruelly. But I need one now and will again at the end, wherever the end will be."

Maigraith knew of the prohibition against the Faellem using devices, but not the moral imperative behind it, or the inevitable punishment. It was not relevant to her, though, since she was not Faellem.

Faelamor returned to her couch, more irritable than ever. Maigraith spent the next few days by herself, exploring the forest until she knew every part of the valley. She loved forests, for that was the world she had grown up in, but this one was dark and damp, always shaded by the high ridges, encouraging her morbid thoughts.

Death was everywhere this year, and never far from Maigraith's thoughts either. It had been a scarce commodity in Mirrilladell in the long years that she'd lived with the Faellem. They scarcely aged, and only a handful died or were born in the time she was there. They died by accident or injury, or because they had lost the will to keep on, exiled here on Santhenar.

But since Maigraith had come to Meldorin there had been little else but death, and she had played her own stupid part in it. The Aachim were slaughtered within Shazmak and without, and Iagador burned from south to north; from Sith to Thurkad. Countless people were dead and Yggur had caused most of it. Her war-making in Bannador, supposedly for a noble cause, had slain many more.

How many children starved tonight because their fathers had not come back from the war? How many wives wept for their lost menfolk; how many mothers and brothers and fathers wailed for loved ones they would never see again? How many bold young soldiers had come back crippled and embittered to a brief life of pain and poverty? These were questions that Maigraith had never before had to contemplate, but now they wracked her.

Not even in twenty years would the damage be repaired. And what had they fought for? Because one tyrant or another commanded it. Faelamor was the worst of them all.

Someone has to do what is right for the world, Maigraith thought, and if I don't no one will. I begin to see where my duty lies, and this is one that I owe only to myself: finding fulfilment in what has always been my greatest burden. Well, my training with Faelamor, with Yggur and with Vanhe has given me as many skills as anyone can have for the job. The rest is up to me. When the chance comes I must be ready.

Thereafter Maigraith worked all her waking hours. She wove mats and screens from rushes, sewed them together and braced them with poles until she had a house of sorts, a light but secure shelter, and a hammock to sleep in above the damp. All right for Faelamor to curl up in the fork of a tree but she needed more.

Then she sorted through the round stones in the river bed and occupied herself by making lightglasses. That was a skill that she had learned long ago but not used of late. Each one was different: sometimes she made them of stone, when she could find stone that felt right in her fingers, but more often from mineral. Quartz was easily found but she did not like the brilliant splintery quality it gave to the light. She sometimes used calcite too-it gave out a soft milky light, but did not last long. Topaz was good, though she worked only with crystals she could find herself, and it was rare. Once she had even made a globe from granite-more as a test of her skill than for any need to use it-but the ominous light, welling up out of hundreds of little crystals, clear, pink, milky or black, reminded her of the dark face of the moon. She only used that globe the once.

After a while making globes became too easy, so she amused herself by selecting the least suitable pebbles that she could find, ironstone or basalt, and coaxing them, or on one famous occasion, forcing them to light. She hung up her globes in little woven baskets, so that all the trees around the camp glowed with colored light in the evening, and slowly faded as the night wore on.

But these activities were too routine. She needed work that was so hard that it hurt. Maigraith went back to her regimen, becoming more and more involved in it until it took up most of her free hours. But it was as if she practiced in a void. Though she went through the motions like a machine, body and soul, and even solved another of the Forty-Nine, one of the nested Chrighms, she took no satisfaction from it. She was empty inside. The spark had been lit in her but it just smoldered away, lacking the fuel to burst into fire. Where could she find the strength for that, to free herself from Faelamor's domination and strike out on her own?