Heads swiveled, keeping nervous watch before and behind. The ground no longer trembled and they argued over whether this was because the dragon had ceased to pursue them or because they stood on solid rock. They continued on up the path, each tensed to hear a hail or answer a challenge or perhaps fend off an attack.

Nothing. Haplo had heard the wind. The five didn't even hear that for it had ceased to blow with the coming of the twilight. At length, they reached the top and stood before the hexagonal gate with its strange, carved inscription. They straggled to a stop. From a distance, the citadel had filled them with awe. Up close, it filled them with despair. Weapons dangled from hands gone listless.

"The gods must live here," said Rega in a hushed voice.

"No," came the dry, laconic answer. "Once, you did."

A portion of the wall began to shimmer blue. Haplo, followed by the dog, stepped out. The dog appeared glad to see them safe. It wagged its tail and it would have dashed over to greet them but for a sharp reprimand from its master.

"How did you get inside there?" Paithan demanded, his hand flexing over the handle of his blade wood sword.

Haplo did not bother to answer the question, and the elf must have realized interrogating the man with the bandaged hands was futile. Paithan did not repeat it.

Aleatha, however, approached Haplo boldly. "What do you mean, once we lived behind those walls? That's ridiculous."

"Not you. Your ancestors. All your ancestors." Haplo's gaze took in the elves and the two humans who stood before him, regarding him with dark suspicion. The Patryn's eyes shifted to the dwarf.

Drugar ignored him, ignored them all. His trembling hands touched the stone, the bones of the world, that had been little more than memory among his people.

"All your ancestors," Haplo repeated.

"Then we can go back in," said Aleatha. "We would be safe in there. Nothing could harm us!"

"Except what you take in with you," said Haplo, with his quiet smile. He glanced at the weapons each held, then at the elves standing apart from the humans, the dwarf keeping apart from the rest. Rega paled and bit her lip, Roland's face darkened in anger. Paithan said nothing. Drugar leaned his head against the stone, tears coursed down his cheeks and vanished into his beard.

Whistling to the dog, Haplo turned, and began to walk back down the mountainside toward the jungle.

"Wait! You can't leave us!" Aleatha called after him. "You could take us inside the walls! With your magic or ... or in your ship!"

"If you don't"-Roland began swinging the raztar, its lethal blades flashed in the twilight-"we'll..."

"You'll what?" Haplo turned to face them, traced a sigil before him, between himself and the threatening human.

Faster than the eye could see, the rune sizzled through the air and smote Roland on his chest, exploding, propelling him backward. He landed hard on the ground, his raztar flew from his hand. Aleatha knelt beside him, cradled the man's bruised and bleeding body in her arms.

"How typical!" Haplo spoke softly, not raising his voice. " 'Save me!' you cry. 'Save me or else!' Being a savior's a thankless job with you mensch. Not worth the pay, because you never want to do any of the work. Those fools"-he jerked his head in the direction of the crystal spire-"risked everything to save you from us, then tried to save you from yourselves-with results that are plainly obvious. But just wait, mensch. One day, one will come who will save you. You may not thank him for it, but you will achieve salvation." Haplo paused, smiled. "Or else."

The Patryn started off, turned again. "By the way, what happened to the old man?"

None of them answered, all avoided his eyes.

Nodding, satisfied, Haplo continued down the mountain, the dog trotting along at his heels.

The Patryn traveled safely through the jungle. Arriving at the Dragon Star, Haplo found the elves and humans roaming the jungle, embroiled in a bitter battle. Each side called on him to come to its aid. He paid no attention to any of them and climbed aboard his empty ship. By the time the combatants realized they were being abandoned, it was too late. Haplo listened in grim amusement to the terrified, pleading wails spoken together in two different languages, reaching his ears as one voice.

The ship lifted slowly into the air. Standing at the window, he stared down at the frantic figures.

" 'He it is, who, coming after me, is preferred before me!' " Haplo tossed them the quote, watching them dwindle away to nothing as his ship carried him into the heavens. The dog crouched at his feet and howled, upset by the pitying cries.

Below, the elves and humans watched in bitter, helpless impotence. They could see the ship shining in the sky a long time after its departure; the sigla emblazoned on its hull blazing fiery red in the false darkness created by the Sartan to remind their children of home.

CHAPTER 39.

THE CITADEL.

THE DRAGON CAME UP ON THE FIVE, CATCHING THEM MASSED IN FRONT OF THE.

gate of the citadel, trying vainly to get inside. The marble walls were slick and smooth, without a handhold or foothold in sight. They banged upon the gate with their fists and, in desperation, hurled themselves against it. The gate didn't so much as quiver.

One of the five suggested battering rams, another magic, but the talk was half-hearted and desultory. Each knew that if elven or human magic had been effective, the citadel would have been occupied.

And then the strange and terrible darkness once again began to flow from the city walls, creeping over the mountain and the jungle like slowly rising flood waters. Yet though it was dark below, it was light above, the crystal spire casting its radiant white call out into a world that had forgotten how to answer. The bright light caused every object to be either seen or unseen-illuminated brilliantly by its glow or lost in impenetrable shadow.

The darkness was terrifying, more so because they could still see the sun shining in the sky. Because of the darkness, they heard the dragon coming before they saw it. The rock shook beneath their feet, the city walls trembled under the dwarf's hand. They started to flee to the jungle, but the sight of the darkness submerging the trees was appalling. For all they knew, the dragon would come from that very direction. They clung to the city walls, unwilling to leave its shelter, though they knew it couldn't protect them.

The dragon appeared, out of the darkness, breath hissing. The star-like light glittered off the scaled head, reflected red in the gleaming eyes. The dragon's mouth parted, the teeth were stained with blood that was black in the white light. A bit of mouse-colored cloth fluttered horribly, impaled upon a sharp, glistening fang.

The five stood together; Roland protectively in front of Aleatha, Paithan and Rega beside each other, hand in hand. They held desperately onto their weapons, though they knew they were useless.

Drugar's back was to the danger. The dwarf paid no attention to the dragon. He was gazing, fascinated, at the hexagonal gate, its runes thrown into sharp relief by the star-like light.

"I recognize each one," he said, reaching out his hand, running the fingers lovingly over the strange substance that gleamed brightly, reflecting the light, reflecting the image of approaching death.

"I know each sigil," he repeated, and he named them, as a child who knows the alphabet but does not yet know how to read will name the individual letters it sees upon the sign hanging from the inn.

The others heard the dwarf muttering to himself in his own language.

"Drugar!" Roland called urgently, keeping his gaze fixed on the dragon, not daring to turn around and look behind him. "We need you!"

The dwarf did not answer. He stared, mesmerized, at the gate. In the very center of the hexagon, the surface was blank. Runes surrounded it in a circle on all sides, the strokes of the tops and bottoms of the sigla merging together, breaking apart, leaving broad gaps in an otherwise continuous flow. Drugar saw, in his mind, Haplo drawing the runes. The dwarf's hand slipped into the tunic of his blouse, chilled fingers wrapped around the obsidian medallion he wore on his chest. He drew it forth, held it up before the gate so that it was level with the blank spot, and slowly began to rotate it.

"Leave him alone," said Paithan, as Roland began to curse the dwarf. "What can he do anyway?"

"True enough, I guess," Roland muttered. Sweat mingled with the blood caked on his face. He felt Aleatha's cool fingers on his arm. Her body pressed closer to his, her hair brushed against his skin. His curses hadn't really been aimed at the dwarf at ail, but hurled bitterly against fate. "Why doesn't the damn thing attack and get it over with!"

The dragon loomed in front of them, its wingless, footless body coiling upward, its head almost level with the top of the smooth city walls. It seemed to be enjoying the sight of their torment, savoring their fear, a sweet aroma, tempting to the palate.

"Why has it taken death to bring us together?" whispered Rega, holding fast to Paithan's hand.

"Because, like our 'savior' said, we never learn."

Rega glanced behind her, wistfully, at the gleaming white walls, the sealed gate. "I think we might have, this time. I think it might have been different."

The dragon's head lowered; the four facing it could see themselves reflected in the eyes. Its foul breath, smelling of blood, was warm against their chilling bodies. They braced for the attack. Roland felt a soft kiss on his shoulder, the wetness of a tear touch his skin. He glanced back over his shoulder at Aleatha, saw her smile. Roland closed his eyes, praying for that smile to be his last sight.

Drugar did not turn around. He held the medallion superimposed over the blank spot on the gate. Dimly, he began to understand. As had happened when he was a child, the letters C...A...T were no longer letters to be recited individually by rote but were transformed before his eyes into a small, furbearing animal.

Elated, transfixed by excitement, he broke the leather thong that held the medallion around his neck and lunged at the gate.

"I have it! Follow me!"

The others hardly dared hope, but they turned and ran after him.

Jumping as high as he could, barely able to reach the bottom of the large round blank in the center, Drugar slammed the medallion against the surface of the gate.

The single sigil, the crude and simple rune that had been hung around the dwarf child's neck, a charm to protect him from harm, came into contact with the tops of the runes carved upon the bottom of the gate. The medallion was small, barely larger than the dwarf's hand, the sigil carved upon it smaller still.

The dragon struck at last. Roaring, it dove upon its victims.

The sigil beneath the dwarfs hand began to glow blue, light welled up between stubby fingers. The light brightened, flared. The single rune increased in size, becoming as large as the dwarf, then as broad as a human, taller than the elf.

The sigil's fire spread across the gate, and wherever the light of the rune touched another rune, that rune burst into flame. The flames expanded, the gate blazed with magical fire. Drugar gave a mighty shout and ran straight at it, shoving with his hands.

The gates to the citadel shivered, and opened.

CHAPTER 40.

SOMEWHERE PRYAN.

"I THOUGHT THEY'D NEVER FIGURE IT OUT!" STATED THE DRAGON IN exasperation. "I took my time getting up there, then they made me wait and wait. There's only so much slavering and howling one can do, you know, before it loses its effectiveness."

"Complain, complain. That's all you've done," snapped Zifnab. "You haven't said a word about my performance. 'Fly, you fools!' I thought I played that rather well."

"Gandalf said it better'?"

"Gandalf!" Zifnab cried in high dudgeon. "What do you mean, he said it 'better'?"

"He gave the phrase more depth of meaning, more emotive power."

"Well, of course he had emotive power! He had a balrog hanging onto his skivvies! I'd emote, too!"

"A balrog!" The dragon flicked its huge tail. "And I suppose I'm nothing! Chopped liver!"

"Chopped lizard, if I had my way!"

"What did you say?" the dragon demanded, glowering. "Remember, wizard, that you're 'only my familiar. You can be replaced."

"Chicken gizzard! I was discussing food. I'm extremely hungry," said Zifnab hastily. "By the way, what happened to all the rest of 'em?"

"The rest of who? Chickens?"

"Humans! Elves, you ninny."

"Don't blame me. You should be more precise with your pronouns." The dragon began to carefully inspect its glittering body. "I chased the merry little band up into the citadel where they were welcomed with open arms by their fellows. It wasn't an easy task, mind you. Blundering through the jungle. Look at this, I broke a scale."

"No one ever said it would be easy," said Zifnab, with a sigh.

"You're right there," agreed the dragon. His fiery-eyed gaze lifted, went to the citadel, shining on the horizon. "It won't be for them, either."

"Do you think there's a chance?" The old man looked anxious.

"There has to be," answered the dragon.

EPILOGUE.

MY LORD,.

My ship is currently in flight above ... below ... through ... (I hardly know how to describe it) the world of Pryan. The flight back to the four suns is long and tedious, and I have decided to take the time to record my thoughts and impressions of the so-called stars while they are still fresh in my mind.

From my research gleaned in the Hall of the Sartan, I am able to reconstruct the history of Pryan. What the Sartan may have had in mind when they created this world (one wonders if they had anything on their minds!) is unknown. It is obvious to me that they arrived on this world expecting something other than what they found. They did their best to compensate, by building magnificent cities, shutting the mensch and themselves up inside, shutting the rest of the world out, and lying to themselves about the true nature of Pryan.

All went well for a time, apparently. I would guess that the mensch-reeling from the shock of the disintegration of their world and the move to this one-had neither the inclination nor the energy to cause trouble-This state of peace passed rapidly, however. Generations of mensch came along who knew nothing about the terrible suffering of their parents. The citadels, no matter how big, would inevitably be too small to contain their greed and ambition. They fell to squabbling and feuding among themselves.

The Sartan, during this period, were interested solely in their own wondrous projects and did their best to ignore the mensch. Intensely curious about this project, I traveled into the heart of the crystal spire from which beamed the "star" light. I found there a huge machine, somewhat similar in design to the Kicksey-Winsey that I discovered on the world of Arianus. This machine was much smaller and its function, as far as I was able to determine, is extremely different.

To describe it, I first put forth a theory. Having visited two of the four worlds built by the Sartan, I have discovered that each was imperfect. I also discovered that the Sartan were apparently trying to make up for the imperfections. Arianus's floating continents need water. Abarrach's Stone World (which I plan to visit next) needs light. The Sartan planned to supply these deficiencies by using energy drawn from Pryan-which has it in abundance.

The four suns of Pryan are surrounded by stone that completely encases their energy. This energy is beamed down constantly onto the world surrounding the suns. The plants absorb the energy and transfer it down deep into the bedrock that supports them. I would estimate that the heat built up at this lower level must be incredible.

The Sartan constructed the citadels to absorb this heat. They dug deep shafts down through the vegetation into the rock. These shafts act as vents, drawing the heat off and expelling it back into the atmosphere. The energy is collected in a place known as the sanctuary, located in the center of the complex. A machine, running off the energy, transfers the power to the central spire, which in turn beams it out to the sky. The Sartan did not do this by themselves, but used their magic to create a race of powerful giants, who could work in the citadel. They called them tytans and gave them crude rune-magic, to help them in their physical labors.

I admit that I have no proof, but I submit to you, My Lord, that the other "stars" visible on Pryan are light-and-energy-gathering machines such as this one. It was the intention of the Sartan, as clearly explained in the writings left behind in the citadel, to use these machines to transmit the abundance of light and energy to the other three worlds. I read their descriptions of precisely how this feat was to be accomplished, but must confess to you, My Lord, that I can make little sense of what they propose. I brought the plans with me and I will turn them over to you so that you may study them at your leisure.

The transference of energy was, I am certain, the primary purpose of the "stars" of Pryan. However, I believe, although I was not able to test my theory, that the "stars" could be used to communicate with each other. The Sartan mentioned being in contact with their brethren on this world and, not only that, but were apparently awaiting to hear from other Sartan located on other worlds. The ability to establish inter-world communication could be of inestimable value to us in our drive to reestablish ourselves as the rightful rulers of our universe.

One can see why the Sartan were eager to complete their work, but the growing turmoil among the mensch in the citadels made it difficult, if not impossible. The Sartan were constantly being called from their tasks to quell the battles. They were frustrated, desperate-for all they knew, their brethren in other worlds were dying for lack of the energy they alone could provide. The Sartan set the tytans to look after "the children."

As long as the Sartan were around to control the tytans, the giants were undoubtedly highly useful and beneficial. They were extremely effective at policing the mensch. They took over all the hard physical tabor and the mundane, day-to-day chores of running a city. Free at last, the Sartan were able to concentrate all their efforts on building the "stars."