Paithan sighed, turned to his sister.

"The human's right, you know. It could be dangerous and-"

"I'm going after Father," said Aleatha, and by the tilt of her head and the glint in her eye, her brother knew it was useless to argue. He took the waterskin from her, slung it over his shoulder. The two hurried into the jungle, moving swiftly, as if to outwalk their fear.

Drugar stood in the hatchway, whetting his knife against the wood. The heavy-footed dwarves are clumsy when it comes to stalking prey. Drugar knew it was impossible for him to sneak up on anything. He would let his victims get a long head start before he went in after them.

CHAPTER 35.

SOMEWHERE ON PRYAN.

"I WAS RIGHT. IT'S THE SAME! WHAT DOES IT MEAN? WHAT DOES IT ALL MEAN?"

Before him stood a city crafted of starlight. At least, that's how it appeared until Haplo drew closer. Its radiant beauty was incredible. He might not have believed in it, might have feared it was a trick of a mind gone stir-crazy from being cooped up with the mensch for lord knew how long. Except that he had seen it all before.

Only not here. In the Nexus.

But there was a difference, a difference that Haplo found grimly ironic. The city in the Nexus was dark-a star, perhaps, whose light had died. Or had never been born.

"What do you think, dog?" he said, patting the animal's head. "It's the same, isn't it? Same exactly."

The city was built up off the jungle floor, rising from behind an enormous wall, rising taller than the tallest trees. A towering, pillared, crystal spire balanced on a dome formed of marble arches stood in the city's center. The top of the spire must be one of the highest points in this world, thought Haplo, gazing up. It was from this center spire that the light beamed most brightly. The Patryn could barely look at it for the dazzling gleam. Here, in the spire, the light had been deliberately concentrated, sent beaming out into the sky.

"Like the light of a guide fire," he said to the dog. "Only who or what is it supposed to be guiding?"

The animal glanced about uneasily, not interested. The skin of its neck twitched, causing the dog to lift its hind leg and start to scratch, only to decide that maybe the itch wasn't the problem. The dog didn't know what the problem was. It knew only that there was one. It whined, and Haplo petted it to keep it still. The center spire was framed by four other spires, duplicates of the first, and stood on the platform holding the dome. On a level beneath that, stood eight more identical spires. Gigantic marble steppes lifted up from behind these spires. Similar to land steppes that had undoubtedly been their models, they supported buildings and dwelling places. And finally, at each end of the guard wall stood another pillar. If this city was built on the same plan as the city in the Nexus-and Haplo had no reason to think otherwise-there would be four such pillars, located at the cardinal direction points.

Haplo continued on through the jungle, the dog trotting along at his heels. Both moved easily and silently amid the tangled undergrowth, leaving no trace of their passage except the faint, swiftly fading glow of runes on the leaves.

And then the jungle ended, abruptly, as if someone had plowed it under. Ahead, drenched in bright sunlight, a path cut into jagged rock. Keeping to the shadows of the trees, Haplo leaned out, put his hand on the stone. It was real, hard, gritty, warm from the sun, not an illusion as he had first suspected.

"A mountain. They built the city on the top of a mountain." He gazed upward, saw the path snake across the rock.

The trail was smooth, clearly marked, and anyone walking it would be highly visible to eyes watching from the city walls.

Haplo took a swig of water from the skin, shared it with the dog, and gazed thoughtfully, intently, at the city. The Patryn thought back to the crude homes of the mensch, made of wood, perched in trees.

"There's no question. The Sartan built this. And they may be up there now. We may be walking into a couple of thousand of them."

He bent down, examined the path, though he knew it was a futile gesture. Wind whistling mournfully through the boulders would blow away any trace he might have found of people passing.

Haplo took out the bandages he had stuffed into a pocket and began to wind them slowly and deliberately around his hands. "Not that this disguise will do us much good," he advised the dog, who appeared disturbed at the thought. "Back on Arianus, that Sartan who called himself Alfred caught onto us quickly enough. But we were careless, weren't we, boy?"

The dog didn't seem to think so, but decided not to argue.

"Here, we'll be more alert."

Haplo hefted the waterskin, stepped out of the jungle and onto the rock-strewn path that wound among boulders and a few scrubby pine trees clinging tenaciously to the sides. He blinked in the brilliant sunlight, then started forward.

"Just a couple of travelers, aren't we, boy? A couple of travelers ... who saw their light."

"It's quite kind of you to come with me," said Lenthan Quindiniar.

'Tut, tut. Think nothing of it," answered Zifnab.

"I don't believe I could have made it alone. You have a really remarkable way of moving through the jungle. It's almost as if the trees step aside when they see you coming."

"More like they run when they see him coming," boomed a voice from far below the moss.

"That'll be enough from you!" growled Zifnab, glaring down, stomping at the ground with his foot.

"I'm getting extremely hungry."

"Not now. Come back in an hour."

"Humpf." Something large slithered through the undergrowth.

"Was that the dragon?" Lenthan asked, looking slightly worried. "He won't harm her, will he? If they should happen to meet?"

"No, no," said Zifnab, peering about. "He's under my control. Nothing to fear. Absolutely nothing. You didn't happen to notice which way he went? Not that it matters." The old man nodded, beard wagging. "Under my control. Yes. Absolutely." He glanced nervously over his shoulder.

The two men sat, resting, on the branches of an ancient tree, overgrown with moss, that stood in a cool, shady clearing, sheltered from the sweltering sun.

"And thank you for bringing me to this star. I truly appreciate it," continued Lenthan. He looked about him in quiet satisfaction, hands resting on his knees, gazing at the twisted trees and clinging vines and flitting shadows. "Do you think she's far from here? I'm feeling rather tired."

Zifnab observed Lenthan, smiled gently. His voice softened. "No, not far, my friend." The old man patted Lenthan's pale, wasted hand. "Not far. In fact, I don't think we need travel any farther. I think she will come to us."

"How wonderful!" A flush of color crept into the elf's pallid cheeks. He stood up, searching eagerly, but almost immediately sank back down. The color in the cheeks faded, leaving them gray and waxy. He gasped for air. Zifnab put his arm around the elf's shoulders, held him comfortingly.

Lenthan drew a shivering breath, attempted a smile. "I shouldn't have stood up so fast. Made me extremely dizzy." He paused, then added, "I do believe I'm dying."

Zifnab patted Lenthan's hand. "There, there, old chap. No need to jump to conclusions. Just one of your bad spells, that's all. It will pass ..."

"No, please. Don't lie to me." Lenthan smiled wanly. "I'm ready. I've been lonely, you see. Very lonely."

The old man dabbed at his eyes with the tip of his beard. "You won't be lonely again, my friend. Not ever again."

Lenthan nodded, then sighed.

"It's just that I'm so weak. I'll need my strength to travel with her when she comes. Would ... would you mind terribly if I leaned up against your shoulder? Just for a little while? Until everything stops spinning around?"

"I know just how you feel," said Zifnab. "Confounded ground won't stay put like it did when we were young. I blame a lot of it on modern technology. Nuclear reactors."

The old man settled back against the tree's broad trunk, the elf leaned his head on the wizard's shoulder. Zifnab prattled on, something about quarks. Lenthan liked the sound of the old man's voice, though he wasn't listening to the words. A smile on his lips, he watched the shadows patiently and waited for his wife.

"Now what do we do?" Roland demanded, glaring at Aleatha in anger. He gestured ahead of them, at the murky water that blocked that path. "I told you she shouldn't have come, elf. We'll have to leave her behind."

"No one's leaving me behind!" returned Aleatha, but she hung back behind the others, taking care not to get too near the dark, stagnant pool. She spoke her own tongue, but she understood the humans. The elves and humans might have spent their time on board ship fighting, but at least they'd learned to insult each other in each other's language.

"Maybe there's a way around it," said Paithan.

"If there is"-Rega wiped sweat from her face-"it'll take us days to cut through the jungle to find it! I don't know how those old men are making it through this tangle so swiftly."

"Magic," muttered Roland. "And it was probably magic got them over this filthy water. It's not going to help us, though. We'll have to wade it or swim it."

"Swim!" Aleatha recoiled, shuddering.

Roland said nothing, but he flashed her a glance-and that glance said it all. Pampered, spoiled brat ...

Tossing her hair, Aleatha ran forward and, before Paithan could stop her, waded into the pond.

She sank to her shins. The water spread out in sullen, oily ripples-ripples suddenly parted by a sinuous shape sliding rapidly on top of the water toward the elf woman.

"Snake!" Roland cried, plunging into the water in front of Aleatha, slashing wildly with his raztar.

Paithan dragged Aleatha back onto the bank. Roland fought furiously, churning up the water. Losing sight of his prey, he stopped, staring around.

"Where did it go? Do you see it?"

"I think it went over there, into the reeds." Rega pointed.

Roland clamored out, keeping a sharp watch, his raztar ready. "You idiot!" He could barely speak for rage. "It could have been poisonous! You nearly got yourself killed!"

Aleatha stood shivering in her wet clothes, her face deathly pale, gaze defiant. "You're not ... leaving me behind," she said, barely able to talk for her chattering teeth. "If you can cross ... so can I!"

"We're wearing leather boots, leather clothes! We have a chance-Oh, what's the use!" Grabbing hold of Aleatha, Roland lifted her-gasping and spluttering-in his arms.

"Put me down!" Aleatha squirmed, kicked. She spoke human inadvertently, without thinking.

"Not yet. I'll wait until I reach the middle," muttered Roland, wading into the water.

Aleatha stared into the water, remembering, and shuddered. Her hands stole around his neck, clasping him closely. "You won't, will you?" she said, clinging to him.

Roland glanced at the face so near his. The purple eyes, wide with terror, were dark as wine and far more intoxicating. Her hair floated around him, tickling his skin. Her body was light in his arms, warm and trembling. Love flashed through him, surging in his blood, more painful than any poison the snake might have inflicted.

"No," he said, his voice harsh from being forced past the ache of desire constricting his throat. His grip on her tightened.

Paithan and Rega waded in after them.

"What was that?" Rega gasped and whirled around.

"Fish, I think," said Paithan, moving swiftly to her. He took her arm and Rega smiled up at him, hopeful.

The elf's face was grave, solemn, offering her protection, nothing more. Rega's smile waned. They continued the crossing in silence, both keeping their gaze fixed on the water. The pond, fortunately, wasn't deep, coming no higher than their knees at the middle point. Reaching the opposite bank, Roland climbed out, deposited Aleatha on the ground.

He had started to continue down the path, when he felt a timid touch on his arm.

"Thank you," said Aleatha.

The words were difficult for her to say. Not because they were in human, but because she found it hard to talk around this man, who roused such pleasing and such confusing emotions in her. Her gaze went to his sweetly curved lips, she recalled his kiss and the fire that swept through her body. She wondered if it would happen a second time. He was standing quite near her now. She had only to move closer, not even half a step... .

Then she remembered. He hated her, despised her. She heard his words: I hope you rot here ... fool bitch ... little idiot. His kiss had been an insult, mockery.

Roland looked into the pale face turned up to his, saw it freeze in disdain. His own desire changed to ice in his bowels. "Don't mention it, elf. After all, what are we humans but your slaves?"

He strode off, plunging into the jungle. Aleatha came after. Her brother and Rega walked apart, separate and alone, behind. Each one of the four was unhappy. Each was disappointed. Each had the resentful, angry idea that if only the other would say something-anything-then everything would be put right. Each had determined, however, that it was not his or her place to speak first.

The silence between them grew until it seemed to become a living entity, keeping company at their side. Its presence was so powerful that, when Paithan thought he heard a sound behind them-a sound as of heavy boots wading through water-he kept quiet, refusing to mention it to the others.

CHAPTER 36.

SOMEWHERE, PRYAN.

HAPLO AND THE DOG WALKED UP THE PATH. THE PATRYN KEPT CLOSE WATCH.

on the city walls, but saw no one. He listened carefully, and heard nothing except the sighing of the wind through the rocks, like a whispering breath. He was alone upon the sun-baked mountainside.

The path led him straight to a large metal door formed in the shape of a hexagon and inscribed with runes-the city's gate. Smooth white marble walls towered high above him. Ten of his people could have stood on each other's shoulders and the topmost person would not have been able to see over the wall's edge. He put his hand on it. The marble was slick, polished to a high finish. A spider would have difficulty climbing up the side. The city's gate was sealed shut. The magic guarding it and the walls made the sigla on Haplo's body crawl and itch. The Sartan were in absolute control. No one could enter their city without their permission and knowledge.

"Hail the guard!" shouted Haplo, craning his neck, peering up to the top of the walls.

His own words came back to him.

The dog, disturbed by the eerie sound of its master's echo, threw back its head and howled. The mournful wail reverberated from the walls, disconcerting even Haplo, who laid a quieting hand on the dog's head. He listened when the echoes died, but heard nothing.

He had little doubt now. The city was empty, abandoned.

Haplo thought about a world where the sun shone constantly ~ and the impact of this new world on those accustomed to regular periods of day and night. He thought about the elves and humans, perched in trees like birds, and the dwarves, burrowing into the moss, desperate for a reminder of their subterranean homes. He thought about the tytans and their horrible, pathetic search.

He looked back at the slick and gleaming walls, resting his hand against the marble wall. It was oddly cool, beneath the glaring sun. Cool and hard and impenetrable, like the past to those who had been shut out of paradise. He didn't understand completely. The light, for example. It was much like the Kicksey-Winsey on Arianus. What was its purpose? Why was it there? He had solved that mystery-or rather, it had been solved for him. He felt certain he would solve the mystery of the stars of Pryan. He was, after all, about to enter one.

Haplo glanced back at the hexagonal gate. He recognized the rune structure embossed on its shining silver frontage. One rune was missing. Supply that sigil, and the gate would swing open. It was a simple construct, elementary Sartan magic. They had not gone to a lot of trouble. Why should they? No one but the Sartan knew the rune-magic.