Why don't you just throw yourself off the edge! The nasty voice advised him. Save yourself a lot of agony. She's out to seduce you, blackmail you. She's playing you for a foo- Rega sucked in her breath and backed up involuntarily, hands clutching at the tree trunk behind her.

"What is it?" Paithan dropped the rope, sprang over to her.

She was staring intently straight ahead, straight out into the jungle. Paithan followed her gaze.

"What?" he demanded.

"Do you see it?"

"What!"

Rega blinked and rubbed her eyes. "I-I don't know." She sounded confused. "It seemed ... as if the jungle was ... moving!"

"Wind," said Paithan, almost angrily, not wanting to admit how frightened he'd been, or the fact that the fear hadn't been for himself.

"Do you feel any wind?" she demanded.

No, he didn't. The air was still, hot, oppressive. His thoughts went uneasily to dragons, but the ground wasn't shaking. He didn't hear the rumbling sound the creatures made moving through the undergrowth. Paithan didn't hear anything. It was quiet, too damn quiet.

Suddenly, above them, came a shout. "Hey! Come back here! You blasted tyro-"

"What is it?" Rega yelled, turning, standing back on the ledge as far as she dared, trying hopelessly to see. "Roland!" Her voice cracked with fear. "What's the matter?"

"These stupid tyros! They've all bolted!"

Roland's bellow faded into the distance. Rega and Paithan heard the sound of crashing, tearing leaves and vines, felt the pounding of his feet shiver the tree, and then silence.

"Tyros are tractable beasts. They don't panic," said Paithan, Swallowing to moisten his dry throat. "Not unless something really terrifies them."

"Roland!" Rega yelled. "Let them go!"

"Hush, Rega. He can't! They're carrying the weapons-"

"I don't give a damn!" she cried frantically. "The weapons and the dwarves and the money and you can go to the pit for all I care! Roland, come back!" She beat on the tree trunk with clenched fists. "Don't leave us trapped down here! Roland!

"What was that-"

Rega whirled around, panting. Paithan, face ashen, stared out into the jungle.

"Nothing," he said, lips stiff.

"You're lying. You saw it!" she hissed. "You saw the jungle move!"

"It's impossible. It's a trick of our eyes. We're tired, not enough sleep ..."

A terrifying cry split the air above them.

"Roland!" Rega screamed. Pressing her body against the tree trunk, hands scrabbling at the wood, she tried to crawl up it. Paithan caught hold of her, dragged her down. Furiously, she fought and struggled in his arms.

Another hoarse scream and then there came a cry of "Reg-" The word broke off with a strangled choke.

Rega went suddenly limp, collapsing against Paithan. He held her fast, his hand on her head, pressing her face against his breast. When she was calmer, he backed her up against the tree trunk and moved to stand in front of her, shielding her with his body. Once she realized what he was doing, she tried to shove him aside.

"Rega, don't. Stay where you are."

"I want to see, damn it!" Her raztar flashed in her hand. "I can fight-"

"I don't know what," Paithan whispered. "And I don't know how!"

He stood aside. Rega emerged from behind him, her eyes wide and staring. She shrank against him, her arm stealing around his waist. Paithan put his arm around her and held her tight. Clinging to each other, they watched the jungle move in silently, surrounding them.

They could see no heads, no eyes, no arms, no legs, no body, but they each had the intense impression that they were being watched and listened to and sought out by extremely intelligent, extremely malevolent beings.

And then Paithan saw them. Or rather, he didn't see them. He saw what appeared to be a part of the jungle separate itself from its background and move toward him. Only when it was quite near him, when its head was almost level with his own, did he realize that he was confronting what appeared to be a gigantic human. He couid see the outline of two legs and two feet that walked the ground. Its head was even with his. It moved straight up to them, stared straight at them. A simple act, but the creature made this simple action horrible by the fact that it apparently couldn't see what it stalked.

It had no eyes; a large hole surrounded by skin in the center had seemingly been bored into the center of its forehead.

"Don't move!" Rega panted. "Don't talk! Maybe it won't find us."

Paithan held her close, not answering, not wanting to destroy her hope. A moment before, they'd been making so much noise that a blind, deaf, and drunken elflord could have found them.

The giant approached, and now Paithan could see why it had seemed the jungle was moving. Its body was covered from head to toe with leaves and vines, its skin was the color and texture of tree bark. Even when the giant was extremely close, Paithan had difficulty separating it from its background. The bulbous head was bare and the crown and forehead, that were a whitish color and bald, stood out against the surroundings.

Glancing around swiftly, the elf saw that there were twenty or thirty of the giants emerging from the jungle, gliding toward them, their movements graceful and perfectly, unnaturally silent.

Paithan shrank back against the tree trunk, dragging Rega with him. It was a hopeless gesture, there was obviously no escape. The heads, with their awful dark and empty holes, stared straight at them. The one nearest put his hands upon the edge of the fungus and jerked on it.

The ledge trembled beneath Paithan's feet. Another giant joined its fellow, large fingers grabbing, gripping. Paithan looked down at the huge hands with a terrible kind of fascination, saw that the fingers were stained red with dried blood.

The giants pulled, the fungus shivered, and Paithan heard it ripping away from the tree. Almost losing their balance, the elf and human clung to each other.

"Paithan!" Rega cried, her voice breaking, "I'm sorry! I love you. I truly do!"

Paithan wanted to answer, but he couldn't. Fear had closed off his throat, stolen his breath.

"Kiss me!" Rega gasped. "That way, I won't see-"

He caught hold of her head in his hands, blocking her vision. Closing his own eyes, he pressed his lips against hers.

The world dropped out from underneath them.

CHAPTER 18.

SOMEWHERE ABOVE PRYAN.

HAPLO, DOG AT HIS FEET, SAT NEAR THE STEERING STONE ON THE BRIDGE.

and gazed wearily, hopelessly out the window of the Dragon Wing. They had been flying for how long?

"A day," Haplo answered with bitter irony. "One long, stupid, dull, everlasting day."

The Patryns had no timekeeping devices, they did not need them. Their magical sensitivity to the world around them kept them innately aware of the passage of time in the Nexus. But Haplo had learned by previous experience that the passage through the Death's Gate and entering into another world altered the magic. As he became acclimated to this new world, his body would realign itself to it. But for right now, he had no idea how much time had truly passed since he had entered Pryan.

He wasn't accustomed to eternal sunshine, he was used to natural breaks in the rhythm of his life. Even in the Labyrinth there was day and night. Haplo had often had reason to curse the coming of night in the Labyrinth, for with night came darkness and, under the cover of darkness came your enemies. Now he would have fallen on his knees and begged for the blessed respite from the blazing sun, for the blessed shadow that brought rest and sleep-no matter how guarded.

The Patryn had been alarmed to catch himself, after another sleepless sun-lit "night," seriously considering gouging out his own eyes.

He knew, then, that he was going mad.

The hellish terror of the Labyrinth had not been able to defeat him. What another might consider heaven-peace and quiet and eternal light-would be his downfall.

"It figures," he said, and he laughed and felt better. He had staved away insanity for the time being, though he knew it wasn't far off.

Haplo had food and he had water. As long as he had some left of either, he could conjure more. Unfortunately, the food was always the same food, for he could only reproduce what he had, he couldn't alter its structure and come up with something new. He soon grew so sick of dried beef and peas that he had to force himself to eat. He hadn't thought to bring a variety. He hadn't expected to be trapped in heaven.

A man of action, forced to inactivity, he spent much of his time staring fixedly out the windows of his ship. The Patryns do not believe in God. They consider themselves (and grudgingly their enemies, the Sartan) the nearest to divine beings existent. Haplo could not pray for this to end, therefore. He could only wait.

When he first sighted the clouds, he didn't say anything, refusing to admit even to the dog that they might be able to escape their winged prison. It could have been an optical illusion, a trick of the eyes that will see water in a desert. It was, after all, nothing more than a slight darkening of the green-blue sky to a whitish gray.

He took a quick walk around the ship, to compare what he saw ahead of him with what lay behind and all around.

And then it was, staring up into the sky from the ship's top deck, that he saw the star.

"This is the end," he told the dog, blinking at the white light Sparkling above him in the hazy, blue-green distance. "My eyes are going." Why hadn't he noticed stars before? If it was a star.

"Somewhere on board, there's a device the elves used to see long distances."

The Patryn could have used his magic to enhance his vision, but that would have meant again relying on himself. He had the feeling, however confused, that if he put a purely disinterested object between himself and the star, the object would reveal to him the truth.

Rummaging through the ship, he found the spyglass, tucked away in a chest as a curiosity. He put it to his eye, and focused on the sparkling, twinkling light, half-expecting it to vanish. But it leapt into view, larger, brighter, and pure white.

If it was a star, why hadn't he seen it earlier? And where were the others? According to his lord, the ancient world had been surrounded by countless stars. But during the sundering of the world by the Sartan, the stars had vanished, disappeared. According to his lord, there should be no stars visible on any of the new worlds.

Troubled, thoughtful, Haplo returned to the bridge. I should change course, fly toward the light, investigate it. After all, it can't be a star. My Lord has said so.

Haplo put his hands upon the steering stone, but he didn't say the words, he didn't activate the runes. Doubt crept into his mind.

What if My Lord is wrong?

Haplo gripped the stone hard, the sharp edges of the runes bit into the soft, unprotected flesh of his palms. The pain was fitting punishment for doubting his lord, doubting the man who had saved them from the hellish Labyrinth, the man who had established their home in the Nexus, the man who would lead them forth to conquer worlds.

His lord, with his knowledge of astronomy, had said there could be no stars. I will fly toward this light and investigate it. I will have faith. My Lord has never failed me.

But still Haplo didn't speak the runes.

What if he flew toward the light, and his lord was wrong about this world? What if it turned out to be like their ancient world-a planet orbiting a sun set in cold, black and empty space? I could end up flying into a void, flying on and on until death claimed me. At least now, I have sighted what I hope and believe are clouds and where there are clouds there might be land.

My Lord is my master. I will obey him unquestioningly in all things. He is wise, intelligent, all-knowing. I will obey. I will...

Haplo lifted his hands from the steering stone. Turning away moodily, he walked over to the window and stared outside.

"There it is, boy," he murmured.

The dog, hearing the troubled tone of his master's voice whined in sympathy and brushed his tail against the floor to indicate he was there if Haplo needed him.

"Land. At last. We've made it!"

He was certain beyond a doubt. The clouds had parted. He could see dark green beneath them. Flying nearer, he saw the dark green separate into varying shades of green-patches that ranged from a light grayish green to a deep blue-green to a mottled, yellow and emerald green.

"How can I turn back?"

To do so would be illogical, a part of him reasoned. You will land here, make contact with the people as you have been ordered to do, then, upon leaving, you can fly out and investigate the sparkling light.

That made sense, and Haplo was relieved. Never one to waste his time in useless self-recrimination or self-analysis, the Patryn went about his duties calmly, making the ship ready for landing. The dog, sensing his master's growing excitement, jumped about him, nipped at him playfully.

But beneath the excitement and sense of victory and elation ran an undercurrent of darkness. These last few moments had been a dreadful epiphany. Haplo felt unclean, unworthy. He had dared admit to himself that his lord might be fallible.

The ship sailed nearer to the land mass and Haplo realized, for the first time, how fast he'd been traveling. It seemed the ground was hurtling toward him, and he was forced to rechannel the magic in the runes on the wings-a maneuver that reduced the speed and slowed his descent. He could actually make out trees and broad, empty expanses of green that appeared to be suitable for landing. Flying over a sea, he discerned in the distance other bodies of water-lakes and rivers, which he could only barely see for the thick growth of vegetation surrounding them. But he found no signs of civilization.

On and on he flew, skimming over the treetops, and saw no cities, no castles, no walls. At length, weary of watching the endless expanse of green unroll beneath him, Haplo slumped down on the floor in front of the tall windows. The dog had gone to sleep. No ships upon the seas or boats upon the lakes. No roads crisscrossed the open expanses, no bridges spanned the rivers.

According to the records left in the Nexus by the Sartan, this realm should be peopled by elves and humans and dwarfs and perhaps even the Sartan themselves. But if so, where were they? Surely he would have seen some sign of them by now! Or maybe not.

Haplo began, for the first time, to truly envision and understand the enormity of this world. Tens of millions could inhabit it, and he might never find them, though he spent a lifetime in the search. Entire cities might lurk beneath the dense covering of trees and remain invisible to the eye peering down from above. No way to find them, no way to detect their existence except by landing and trying to penetrate that thick green mass.

"This is impossible!" Haplo muttered.

The dog woke up and nuzzled his master's hand with a cold nose. Haplo stroked the soft fur, absently ruffled the silky ears. The dog, sighing, relaxed and closed its eyes.

"It would take an army of us to search this land! And then maybe we wouldn't find anything. Perhaps we shouldn't bother. I-What the-Stop! Wait a minute!"

Haplo jumped to his feet, startling the dog, who leapt up and began to bark. Hands on the steering stone, Haplo sent the ship into a slow turn, staring down below him into a small, light-colored patch of grayish green.

"Yes! There it is!" he cried wildly, pointing out the window, as though exhibiting his discovery to an audience of hundreds instead of one black-and-white dog.

Tiny bursts of light, all different colors, followed by small puffs of black, were plainly visible against the green. He had caught sight of them out of the corner of his eye and turned back to make sure. A moment's pause, and they appeared again. It could be a-natural phenomenon, he told himself, forcing himself to calm down, appalled at his own lack of control.

No matter. He would land and check it out. At least he'd get off this blasted ship, breathe fresh air.

Haplo circled, descending, the bursts of light guiding him. Coming down below the level of the very tallest trees, he saw a sight that would have caused him to thank his god for a miracle, if he had believed in any god to thank.