"Make that Sleep, Lightning, Fire, Glow Temporarily, the two-way version of Charm, Injure, Preserve, Shatter Metal, and Dispel Magic. That's nine, isn't it?"

"Yes, And that's fine. Don't waste them, now." One of the rules of the game was that a wizard's spells were immediately forgotten when used. It was sort of like firing a gun; the gun could be reloaded, but a spent cartridge was gone. And it would take valuable time out of a campaign for a wizard to relearn his spells from his spell books. Often that time couldn't be spared. "Doria?"

She had to consult her notes. "I'll memorize them, Ahira.... Here they are: Heal Minor Woundsa"I've got that one three timesa"Make Ediblea""

"Handy. Good choice." Situations could come up where there wouldn't be food at hand. But with that spell, the company could survive for a long time on anything; she could even make cafeteria food edible.

"Thanks, Jaa"Ahira.... Ah, and Warm, Glow, Heal Disease, the Gift of Tongues, Heal Serious Wounds, anda"ta-da!a"Locate. That last could be handy, no?"

"Very. But be careful. You'll have to know what the Gate is, roughly where it is... and we'll have to be reasonably close before you use it." He turned to Cullinane, smiling. "I know what your special skills are."

Karl Cullinane cracked a smile and stroked at the stubble that he no doubt thought of as a beard. "Arrgh."

"Arg, indeed. Hakim."

Walter Slovotsky bounced to attention and bowed from the waist, clasping his hands in front of him. "Thy servant, O short sahib."

"Don't waste the oil on me. You might need it later.a"We're going to need a thief on this quest, probably."

"Yes, O Source of All Wisdom, but what is thy point?" His look of total innocence was perhaps a bit overdone.

"It would be a shame to have to execute you for stealing from members of the party." James Michael mimed hefting an axe. "A great loss "

"As it would be to thy servant." Walter felt at his neck. "So this unworthy one shall keep thy counsels in mind."

"See that you do." This was getting better all the time. "And Lightfingers."

Visibly, Parker considered giving him a hard time, not playing along. James Michael was counting on Parker's basic desire to play to overcome his irritation at not getting to be team leader for once. For a moment, opposed desires balanced. Finally, Parker shrugged and answered in a harsh whisper. "And what do you want?"

Good. "I want you to listen very closely to me, thief."

"I always listen closely. To humans, at least. Not to a filthy little dwarf."

"Barak? Do you think I should have to take this?"

"No. You want me to persuade him, Ahira?"

James Michael glanced over at Deighton, who was again standing in front of his open briefcase, his hands hidden inside. One of the things James Michael likeda"a lota"about Doc Deighton's gamemastering was that Doc almost always chose to do the dice-rolling himself, freeing the players from as much of the mechanics of the game as was possible. It helped to maintain the illusion, the atmosphere. "Will that be necessary, Einar Lightfingers? Barak would lop off your remaining hand if I asked him to." And Karl Cullinane would probably enjoy kicking Jason Parker out of the game by killing off Parker's character.

Lightfingers/Parker sighed. "What do you want me to do?"

"Good. And it's not what I want you to do, it's what I want you not to do. Understood?" He rapped on the table. "I know your habits; we won't have any of that nonsense in this company."

Pause. "Understood."

And we're off. He gave a slight nod at Deighton. "You have just awoken on a hillside," Deighton intoned, "a company of... six adventurers, seeking treasure and fame."

"Wait a minute," Aristobulus grated. "How did we get here? And I thought that there wasa""

"Patience, please. Last night, you all slept in an inn, which was located in a village just south of the great walled city, D'tareth. You don't know how you got here." He stopped.

Doria picked up the hint. "Where the h.e.l.l are we?"

"Yeah."

"What're we doing on this hilltop?"

"Last thing I knew, I was kicking the serving girl out of bed so I could get some sleep." That was from Slovotsky/Hakim; Ahira leaned back, closed his eyes, and smiled.

"From the top of this hill, you can see the dawn sun, rising over another walled city. It is not D'tareth; the walls of this city are of some wet-looking gray stone."

"Forget the distancea"what's close up?" Ahira understood Parker's impatience, but wished that he'd contain himself. They would learn, soon enough.

"Beside you on the hillside are half a dozen large wooden boxes. They are plain, almost cubical, each side roughly the height of a dwarf."

Eyes still closed, Ahira spoke up. "n.o.body touch the boxes. We don't know what's in them."

"I'll dispel any spells."

"You're not thinking, Aristobulus," Ahira shot back. "First, if it's harmless, you're wasting a spell. Second, there could be, say, a magic carpet inside. You want to turn it into a throw rug?"

"But what can we do?"

"Hakim." He voiced it as a command.

"Here, sahib."

"You want to give the boxes a try? Careful, now," A deep chuckle. "So you want me to be the sacrificial meat? Very well. I walk over to the nearest of the boxes and run my fingertips lightly over its top surface."

Deighton: "You feel nothing unusual, although your..." As he paused, dice clattered. "Your suspicion is that there is a hidden catch."

"For some reason or other, I suspect that there is a hidden catch, Ahira. You want me to find it?"

Deighton: "From behind you, you hear a voice."

"Quick!" Ahira said. "Everybody, turn around. Barak, loose your sworda"but don't draw it. Aristobulus, get ready to throw a spella"if anything funny happens, throw it."

"Which one?"

"Lightning." James Michael knew that the new voice would be Andrea's character, joining the group, but Ahira was a suspicious sort, who wouldn't know that, anyway. Best to be prepared.

"As you turn around, you see a young human woman, dressed in the gray robes of a user of magicks. Go ahead."

"I... I'm supposed to say..." Andrea was uncomfortable; James Michael resigned himself to having a hard time getting her into the spirit of things.

Hakim/Slovotsky's ba.s.so boomed, "Speak for yourselfa"are you possessed by a demon, wench?"

"Wench? Oh. No, I'm not possessed by a demon. I'm, uh, Lotana," she said, the accent firmly on the second syllable, "and," she added in a low monotone, "I'm going to get even with you for this, Karl Cullinane."

Never mind; get back into it.

"Greetings, little girl, would you like a piece of candy?"

"Barak," Ahira snapped out, "if Einar Lightfingers opens his mouth again, stick a sword through his lips."

"Delighted."

Bringing a new playera"a new person into the company was always a touchy situation. Ahira didn't need Lightfingers complicating matters, not with a nova"a not terribly experienced magic user. "Lotana, we are a band of adventurers, seeking... something, although we don't quite know what, yet."

Deighton: "You have a vague, unexplainable feeling that what you are looking for is something called the Gate Between-Worlds."

"Although we all share a vague suspicion that we're looking for the Gate Between Worlds, whatever that is. Would you like to join us?"

"Sure. Uh, what were you going to do about those boxes on the hillside?"

Doria's voice was almost a whine. "Open them, silly."

"Okay, fine, I'll open them."

"No, don'ta""

"As the first box was opened, you are overwhelmed by a rush of..."

James Michael couldn't hear the rest; a rush of sound like the roar of an impossibly loud, impossibly near jet buffeted his ears, acrid smoke invading his nostrils until he found himself on his knees in a coughing spasm, his tearing eyes jammed shut.

He bounced to his feet on the damp gra.s.s, reflexively reaching for the axe strapped to his chest, loosening the straps with two quick jerks and taking the axe in his gnarled, well-muscled hands.

Well-muscled hands?

He opened his eyes.

He was standing on the side of a gra.s.sy hill, a dwarf with an axe in his hands.

"OhmyG.o.d."

PART TWO:.

Lundeyll.

CHAPTER THREE:.

"It Isn't a Game Anymore"

I do not know whether I was then a man dreaming I was a b.u.t.terfly, or whether I am now a b.u.t.terfly dreaming I am a man.

a"Chang-tzu "Jason, wake up," James Michael's voice rasped.

Jason Parker shrugged the hand from his shoulders reaching for the covers to pull them over his head. But the covers weren't there.

"Want me to try?" The voice was Karl Cullinane's, but changed: a deep, rich baritone.

"No, we'll do it. You go back to your little friend," Doria said. "Maybe she's over her crying jag by now."

Jason pried an eye open, squinting painfully in the bright sunlight Doria knelt on the gra.s.s next to him. But it wasn't Doria, not exactly. She was older, gaunt, the rounded features of her face having changed into the well-defined ones of a thirtyish woman. And her eyes were strange; n.o.body had yellow irises.

But Doria did. And that seemed... right, familiar.

"What the h.e.l.l?" Jason jerked upright, now totally awake.

Maybe.

He was sitting on damp morning gra.s.s, wearing a musky-smelling leather jerkin and dew damp gray woolen leggings, an ivory-hilted shortsword in its scabbard at the right side of his waist, a sheathed dagger strapped to his chest beneath his jerkin.

He reached his right hand up to his face, to slap himself awake. This had all the makings of a bad bad dream.

He missed; air brushed his cheek. Missed? He looked down at his arm. Instead of a hand on the end of his withered, age-spotted right arm, there was nothing but a naked stump, covered with brown keloid scars.

My hand... The world went gray.

James Michael's voice came from behind. "Take it easy, Jason. Deep breaths. But you've got to get yourself together. You're next to the lasta"we still can't get Arista"Ricky to wake up."

He kept his eyes closed. A ma.s.sive hand gripped the back of his neck, pulling him forward. Reflexively, he retrieved his dagger with his left hand, thrust it over his shouldera"

And found his wrist caught in a bone-crushing grip. The dagger was wrenched out of his fingers, thudding on the ground beside him.

"Don't try that again."

"You just go easy on him, Ahira." There was a strength, a confidence in Doria's voice that Jason had never heard before. "It's going to be harder on him than it was on you." Gentle fingers stroked his face. "We'll just have to take this one step at a time."

"Maybe you're right, but I don't like it. Aristobulus is stilla""

"Shh. One step at a time."

Jason opened his eyes. Somehow it was fitting that James Michael was a dwarf, a broad-shouldered creature with a huge, broken nose and a jutting jaw. But it was still James Michael's eyes that peered at him from beneath heavy brows.

"You're Ahira."

"That's right." The dwarf smiled, running a hand down the front of his gapped chainmail vest. "We're here, on the other side."