Terror filled her. There was a darkness in the web of the Weirding, a terrible black blot, and only after she recoiled from it did Grace realize that her own thread led directly to it. The blot had been hidden, but when she had pulled on her thread the thing had been revealed.

The blot heaved upward, taking on shape: a long, rambling building with windows like soulless eyes. Pale hands stretched out of the darkness, reaching for her. Grace shrank from them. The calls of owls sounded in her ears. Now the words that spoke in her mind belonged to another witch and another time.

Much of who you are lies behind a door, and I cannot see past it.

However, you must know that you cannot lock away part of who you are 150 without locking away part of your magic. If ever you want to discover that power, you will have to unlock that door. ...

No. She couldn't do it. She couldn't let the shadow escape. If she set it free, then it would surely consume her.

She let go of her own thread. The door shut. The olot vanished.

"Grace!" The cry was faint as if it ramp frnm vprv far awav 146 mark anthony Grace hardly heard it. She clutched for Garf, but the remaining wisp of his thread unraveled, and the shining web became a gray shroud in her hands.

They reached the high gates of Calavere with the last red light of day.

Grace and Aryn rode* at the fore of the party with Lirith just behind.

Next to the dark-skinned witch, on a gray charger, rode Sir Meridar, another of the king's knights. He was a quiet man about Grace's age, with gentle eyes set deep in a face ravaged by pox. Meridar had tied the reins of the dappled charger to his saddle, and the riderless horse followed after the gray. At the rear of the party came Durge and Black - alock with their grim, blanket-wrapped burden trailing behind. None of them had spoken, not since they had left the purple valley. It had taken no more than half an hour to ride back to Calavere, but it might as well have been an eternity. Tears streaked Aryn's face as she wept openly, and even Lirith looked shaken. Durge's face was etched with hard lines.

In a way Grace envied them. Maybe it would have been better if she could have felt something--anything besides this hollowness. But then there was an advantage to numbness. Wasn't that the purpose of anesthesia? To feel no pain.

They might still have been there in the valley had Sir Meridar not found them. Grace had attempted resuscitation. She had showed Lirith 151 how to tilt Garf's head back, how to make a good seal around his mouth with her own, how to fill his lungs with air. Then Grace had worked his chest--endlessly, brutally, long after it was nsplpss 1nnp afte.r she bad beard ribs 147 crack. Still she had not stopped, even when Aryn, sobbing, begged her to, even when Durge laid strong hands on her shoulders and tried to pull her back.

She halted only when the thunder of hoofbeats echoed off granite.

Moments later Meridar rode into the valley. From the back of his charger he took in the body of the bear, then the figure lying in front of Grace. Had word of what had happened somehow gotten back to the castle?

Then he spoke to her, and she had realized that was impossible.

"Lady Grace, you have grave circumstances to concern you. From what has met my eyes, this is a dire and sorrowful thing that has befallen your party. However, I bring a summons from King Boreas, and even now, with what has happened, it must be obeyed with all good speed."

Meridar's eyes were compassionate, but there was a sharpness to his words--an edge not meant to hurt, but to cut through the dullness, to remind her that even now she had noble duties. Grace leaned back, let her hands slip from Garf's chest, and stared at the ravaged body that a short time ago had been whole and strong. Sometimes no power was enough.

Except you did have the power. Grace. You did, you saw it, and you were afraid. . . .

The words sounded in her mind again as the riders passed between the castle's guard towers and through the raised portcullis. She saw again--felt again--the shadowy blot upon the Weirding; then she pressed her syes shut and forced the image away. They rode through an 152 archway into the castle's upper bailey. The last color drained from the stone walls, and the world faded to monochrome.

Meridar dismounted before the stable, then reached a hand up toward Grace. "The king awaits you, Your Radiance."

She opened her mouth, then glanced at Durge.

I will cpb kirn my if}v " hp eairl enftiv 148 * mark anthony She nodded, then accepted Meridar's hand and slid to the cobblestones.

The knight started to lead her toward a door; then she halted to look back at Aryn. But Durge had already helped the young woman from her horse, and Lirith had wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Grace decided she had better worry about herself and concentrated on keeping upright as she followed Meridar into the dimness of the castle.

When they reached Boreas's chamber, the guard standing at the door stared as if they had startled him. Had he not been watching for their arrival? Then the man recovered, bowed to Grace, and opened the door.

Grace stepped through, and only as the door swung shut behind her did she realize that Sir Meridar had not followed.

Boreas pushed himself up from the dragon-clawed chair that sat next to the hearth. The mastiff at his feet rose to its haunches and growled.The king glared at the dog, silencing its noise, and the beast skulked to a corner, but it did not take its black eyes off Grace.

"What has happened, my lady?" the king said in his thrumming baritone.

Grace blinked. How could he have heard that something had befallen the riding party? Sir Meridar had not come here before her. Then she followed his gaze, looked down at herself, and she understood the guard's startlement, the dog's growling, the king's strange look. Her lavender riding gown was drenched in crimson, dark with Garf's blood, which was stiffening as it dried. Grace held out her hands, and they were caked with gore and dirt. She could only imagine the mask of her face. She met Boreas's steely eyes.

153.

"Garf, Your Majesty. Sir Garfethel. I did everything in my power. But his heart stopped beating, and he died."

Til-,- -.-__J_ ""----" ^^n;1,,