MIRROR QUARTET.

The construct slowly revolved in the air above the decapitated tower of Carcharon, a menace that warped the very light around it. Rulke stood tall on top, holding his levers in one negligent hand, the other thrust out at the rising moon. The dark face, mottled red and purple-black, heaved its pregnant mass over the horizon. A hideous omen-the moon had not been full on hythe, mid-winter's day, for 1830 years. Rulke's foretelling was already coming to pass. When the dark moon is full on mid-winter's day, I will be back. I will crack the Forbidding and open the Way between the Worlds. The Three Worlds will be Charon evermore.

Karan, chest high beside Rulke, was a stark white, staring shadow surrounded by a corona of flaming hair. Llian ached for her, but even if he could step through the air between them there was no way to wrest her free. No one would help him now. He was a pariah, accused of betraying Karan to Rulke, accused of being Rulke's spy. Nothing would convince the company otherwise. Wherever he looked he received dark looks in return, especially from Basitor the Aachim, who had hated Llian since they met, and blamed him for the death of Hintis in Katazza last summer. Basitor would kill him given the least opportunity.

Llian had only one friend left, little Lilis, but what could she do? What could any of them do? The most powerful of their world were here but not one of them-not Mendark, not Yggur or the crippled Tensor, not Tallia or Shand or Malien-had the courage to use their powers against Rulke and his construct.

The construct rumbled; the stone walls of the tower wobbled; wavering discharges rose up from the spiny protrusions embedded in the walls. The Ghashad guards, stick-men and stick-women, resumed their posts, pacing the walls with stiff-limbed gait. The red glare from inside faded and flared, faded and flared.

Llian eyed the construct. It was an impossible thing, made of metal so black that it stood out against the night sky. There was nothing on Santhanar to compare it with. It required no beast to pull it; it had no wheels; and yet it slipped through the sky like silk. It hung in the air like a balloon, though Llian knew it was heavier than a boulder. Longer and broader than a wagon, its sides bulged in complex shapes that were alien then curved away into corrugations underneath. The long front soared up to a flaring binnacle crammed with knobs and wheels, behind which was a thicket of levers, a place to stand and a high seat of carven serpentine.

And Llian knew that the inside was just as strange, equally packed with controls and glowing plates, for he had seen it in the Nightland. But evidently Rulke preferred to ride on top where he could display, and dominate.

"Karan!" Llian sang out in anguish. His voice echoed back across the amphitheater to mock him.

Karan must have seen him, standing there on the rim, for she went quite rigid. At the same instant the construct lurched beneath her. Her arms flailed. Llian thought she was going to go over, then Rulke jerked her back. She looked up at him, looming head and shoulders above her, and spoke, though her words were not even a sigh on the wind.

Yggur adjusted glasses as thick as bottle ends. When Rulke first appeared he had resolved, at last, to face his fears and die rather than be overcome by them. But already that resolve was weakening. "Look at them together," he said, grinding his teeth. "He has possessed her mind. I can feel it, the way he possessed me for so long."

"I hope so," replied Mendark in an even more chilly voice. "Otherwise Karan has betrayed us, and must be punished."

"Don't be so free with your judgments, Mendark," said Malien, but her voice showed her own doubts.

The way they talked was horrible. Llian was stabbed all over by painpricks, as if his blood had crystallized to needles of ice. He sucked at the air but could not fill his lungs. Everything wavered; he felt faint. Then Yggur blew all that away in an instant.

Yggur took Malien by the arm. "Who is your best archer?"

"Basitor has the strongest pull by far. But I should say Xarah is the most accurate at this distance. Xarah!"

Xarah came forward. She was small for an Aachim, not much bigger than Karan, with limp hair the color of mustard and a scatter of freckles on her cheeks. She looked much younger than the others.

"You are the best among you?" Yggur asked, his fists clenched, knuckles white.

Xarah looked down at the snow, fingering a bracelet on her wrist. She knew what was going to be asked of her. Then she gazed up at the construct, gauging the distance. Only Karan's head could be seen now.

"The best that is able," she said. "I can hit any target in Carcharon from here."

"And on the construct?"

"An uphill shot, but yes, I can do it."

"Then put an arrow in Karan's eye, for pity's sake. For her and for us."

She did not move. "Do it this minute!" he cried again.

Xarah shivered. She looked up at Malien, her midnight-dark eyes expressionless in the red light.

"Do it!" Yggur cried, and there were flecks of foam at the corners of his mouth. He looked as if he had just fought a monumental battle with himself, and lost. Terrified of being possessed again, he would do anything to avoid it.

Malien put out her hand. "Stay, Xarah!" she said.

Mendark had summed the situation up too. "Rulke has made an error of judgment. Quick, kill her and we strike a monumental blow against him. He will still be deadly, but not invincible."

Llian staggered between them, the ice-crusted manacles tearing his legs until the blood flowed. He took no heed of that pain; it was nothing beside what he was feeling inside.

"No!" he screamed, crashing into Mendark, who cuffed him to the ground.

Nadiril the Librarian was bent right over on his walking staff, looking frailer than ever. Shand, a head shorter beside him, held his arm. Lilis stood by Nadiril, hopping from one foot to another, fretting for her teacher.

"This deed will come back to haunt you," said Nadiril. "She-"

"Just do it," Yggur screamed.

"No more will I do evil," said Malien softly, "even if the greatest good of all comes out of it. Xarah, put down your bow."

Tensor slid his legs over the side of the litter and with a convulsive wrench forced himself to his feet. He was as gaunt as a skeleton now, the once huge frame nothing but bone and sinew, all twisted from Rulke's blow in Katazza last summer. Leaning his weight on Asper the healer, Tensor wobbled across. Llian tried to claw his way over the snow but Basitor's huge foot slammed into the middle of his back, pinning him down.

"A chance," Tensor rasped. "A chance sent for my torment! What evil did my forefathers do that I should suffer so? Do you give the order, Malien?"

"No!" she whispered, and a tear froze to crystal from each eye.

"You have always been true," he said, clinging to her for a moment.

Letting her go, he took a lurching step toward Xarah. He wavered toward her like the grim reaper, an animated skeleton covered in skin. She stood still, watching him come, the long bow hanging down in one hand, the red-feathered arrow in the other. At the last moment she tried to put them behind her but the look in his eyes paralyzed her.

Tensor plucked the bow from one hand, the arrow from the other. The arrow went to the bowstring; the string was drawn back. Llian's arms and legs thrashed as if swimming in the snow, but Basitor's boot held him in place.

"I'm sorry, Karan," said Tensor ever so gently.

"Shoot, damn you! cried Yggur, shaking so hard that his head nodded like a child's toy.

Karan's red hair looked to be on fire in the boiling glare from the tower. Her face was a white blotch, but Llian had no doubt that Tensor could hit her eye from here. Before he even released the arrow Llian could see it flying straight and true toward her lovely face, to spear straight through her skull with a shock that would carry her backwards off the construct, to her death onto the rocks at the bottom of the gorge.

A Fantastic New Tale from.

Rebecca Neason.

The Truest Power.

In the grand tradition of Andre Norton and Katherine Kurtz, Rebecca Neason returns to the wondrous world of The Thirteenth Scroll in an amazing new adventure of fantasy and magic. Ruierless Aghamore totters on the brink of catastrophic civil war, even though the blind seer Lysandra, her wo!f companion Cloud Dancer, and the priest Renan have found Selia, the young girl who possesses the innate wisdom to save the Sand. If Selia cannot overcome the many obstacles and demonic magic that bar her path, Lysandra's recurring visions portend that the moment the girl accepts the royal scepter, Selia-and all hope for Aghamore-will die...

ALSO AVAILABLE FROM REBECCA NEASON:.

THE THIRTEENTH SCROLL (0-446-60953-6).

"This enchanting tale of magic and prophecy... will delight readers of high adventure and fantasy."

-Realms of Fantasy on The Thirteenth Scroll.

"The kingdom of Aghamore is territory worth exploring at length... with fascinating creatures and terrains... . This is a narrative that deserves to be played out in full."

-SF Site on The Thirteenth Scroll.

Masterful New Fantasy From.

Diane Duane.

Stealing the Elf-King's Roses.

New York Times bestselling author Diane Duane now presents a startlingly original new adventure with a gripping mystery. Los Angeles prosecutor, sleuth, and forensic lanthanomancer Lee Enfield relies on her mystic Sight to gather the truth from suspects and crime scenes. But when she investigates the shooting death of an Alfen media exec, her powers, like those of her fayhound partner Gelert, uncover only deeper mysteries. Now, to determine the truth, Lee and Gelert must secretly infiltrate Alfheim, a universe forbidden to mortals-and crack the case before an inter-dimensional war destroys all creation...

"Duane is a craftsman, a player with words... She has moved, quite literally, into another dimension."

-New York Times.

"Complex, well written...a tremendous depth of description."-Midwest Book Review In the third volume of this stunning and original saga, Ian Irvine continues The View from the Mirror, his brilliant epic fantasy.

THE TALE OF THE BETRAYERS.

Rulke, the last and most powerful of the Charon, escapes from the alien dimension where he has been imprisoned for a millennium. As he amasses a conquering army of telepathic monsters, the other immortal mancers scatter in desperate quests to control or re-create the terrible, arcane magics of the Forbidding. But young Llian, his mind controlled by Rulke, becomes fen unwilling spy against all who've befriended him -whiles Karan, the tormented daughter of three human species, discovers her beloved homeland of Gothryme has become the center of a sorcerous vortex. For there, in a mystic, ancient citadel built by a madman, Rulke plans to wield powers that will reconnect worlds-or unleash the insatiable horrors of Trie Void. And the key to the Charon's scheme...is Karan herself.

About the Author.

IAN IRVINE was born in Bathurst, New South Wales, Australia, in 1950, and educated at Chevalier College and the University of Sydney, where he took a Ph.D. in marine science. After working as an environmental project manager and surviving several disastrous expeditions to Sumatra, Ian set up his own consulting firm in 1986. An expert in marine pollution, he has worked in many countries in the Asia-Pacific region. He has developed some of Australia's national guidelines for the protection of the oceanic environment and continues to work in this field.

Ian Irvine lives with his family in the mountains of northern New South Wales. His fantasy quartet, The View from the Mirror, has been a bestseller in Australia and the UK. He has also published the first of a triligy of eco-thrillers, The Last Albatross, and is presently working on a new "Three Worlds" fantasy triligy, The Well of Echoes. Readers can contact him at ianirvine@ozemail.com.au.

Books by Ian Irvine.

A Shadow on the Glass.

The Tower on the Rift.