Aiodar nodded absently but kept his attention on Astron. "What else then, demon," he said. "Of what other

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wonders should I know besides the mult.i.tude of realms?"

"There is the ultimate precept," Astron said. "That is what my prince seeks-the ultimate precept, a concept superior to the laws of magic, one transcendent to the metalaws behind them, the answer to the riddle that provides the greatest power of all."

"In which realm does one search for this ultimate of precepts?" Alodar asked.

"Only Palodad knows that," Astron said. "In exchange for bringing him some exotic matter from whence he directs us, he will tell us where to look."

"Palodad, additional realms, ultimate precepts." Alo-dar's frown deepened. "It is all too much to swallow at one sitting. Perhaps Elezar has constructed what we men call a fantasy and expects somehow to convince us that it is real."

"It is a chance for redemption," Phoebe interrupted suddenly. Kestrel saw that she had placed the bucket of water on the stone floor. Her cheeks were flushed with excitement.

"It came to me while the two of you conversed," she said. "I cannot continue through the rest of my life always blushing in apology for a single failure in my craft. I must strike out again and somehow prove a woman's worth. It is by accomplishment that I will yet show the wizards of my council the meaning of respect. By proven deed will I gain comfort, even in the presence of the archimage of al! the crafts." She paused and took a deep breath. "And even though the archimage hesitates, then I will not. Tell me, Astron, is this Palodad strong-willed, like your prince?"

Kestrel bolted across the room. He put his hand on Phoebe's arm and looked over his shoulder at Alodar. "She has not quite recovered from the haste of our journey," he said quickly. "Dismiss her words as merely some nervous prattle."

He spun his head back around and looked at Phoebe intently. "This is no game with imps and sprites," he said. "Did you not hear the words from the flames and

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see the strange beasts the skyskirr were? Be careful or you will get us into a pit deeper than we presently are."

Kestrel stopped and studied Phoebe's expression. He did not like what he saw.

"Imps and sprites," she shot back. "Is that indeed all you think me capable of? If the need arose, despite your words, would you trust me with more?" She looked away for a moment and then disengaged herself from Kestrel's grip. "I know I stated when we began the journey that the adventure was all that mattered. But how can I be other than the demon's slave, if deep inside you cannot judge me to be your equal?"

Kestrel opened his mouth to speak, but he did not know what to say. For Astron to talk of other realms was his own business. No doubt at the root of his desires was the wish to return safely home, regardless of where that really was. And the affairs of demon princes were certainly the concerns of one such as the archimage. But Phoebe was another matter altogether. He glanced quickly at her sudden determination and shook his head. He must have been right when he first explained her words. It was the fatigue of the journey. In a calmer moment she would see the folly of dealing with such immensities just as clearly as he.

But Phoebe ignored his outstretched arm. She grabbed the sack of powder still at Alodar's feet and threw another handful into the dying flame. Thrusting the pouch into her cape, she took a deep breath as the fire roared back to life. "Palodad," she said. "Palodad, come forth. I command you to submit to my will."

"Who tugs and pulls at the one who reckons?" a deep voice suddenly boomed from the hearth in response. "He is no mighty djinn who can be commanded to burst asunder great rocks or wield bolts of awesome lightning. Begone! Let him be! Wrestle with someone else, someone more worthy of your mettle."

"If you are named Palodad, then you are the one I seek," Phoebe said. "Submit now to your master so that you might answer the questions that I have about realms other than my own."

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"It is not the one who reckons whose tendrils of thought intertwine with yours. He is my prince. I speak on his behalf for all who come asking at the doors of his domain."

Kestrel hesitated, not knowing whether to rush forward and pull Phoebe away or let her be, so her concentration would not be disturbed.

Astron released one hand from the book he still clutched to his chest and tugged on Aiodar's purple sleeve. "If the one that has been touched serves old Pa-lodad, then it is just as well," he said. "He can learn from the old one and tell us in turn in which realm we are to seek-tell us what is to be brought back in fulfillment of the bargain to the one who has him duty-bound."

Kestrel saw Astron shudder. "In fact, the intimacy of mind is probably all the better with a minion than with the old one himself," the demon said.

Aiodar's expression did not change for a moment, but then he nodded. He indicated for Phoebe to continue.

"Whose mind then do I touch?" Phoebe said. "Speak your name as token of submission to my will. Tell me how it will be that you will convey Palodad's thoughts. Be swift about it. There are many a.s.sembled here and the waste of time is great."

The flame flashed hotter. Kestrel felt a blast of warmth on his cheeks.

"I am Camonel, the one who carries," the voice rumbled deeply. "Prince Palodad has instructed that indeed I do submit to what you ask. We need not exercise the ritual of struggle. Feel my thoughts. I do not resist. He can speak through me as if my mouth were his own."

There was a brief pause while the fire danced wildly and then the demon behind the flames spoke again.

"Time, did you say time?" The words rolled out from the hearth. Kestrel heard what he thought was laughter and saw Astron take a cautious step backward. "Time- there is no way either to save or waste it." The flame spat and crackled. "It flows regardless, marching past to be lost forever. Do not speak to me of what even the most powerful of wizards cannot bend to his will." The

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laughter boomed again, this time more forceful, echoing from the stone walls and filling the room with sound.

"The riddle of the ultimate precept." Alodar forced his voice through the din. "Ask him if it is no more than a cleverly worded ruse on the part of Elezar the prince to seek again control of the realm of men?"

"Elezar, the one who is golden, is but a few time-ticks away from being but a memory," the voice answered through the flame. "His domain is gone, dissipated into a fine dust that slowly drifts in the realm. Only one dark node remains his to command and soon it too will be found. I will record in my domain his many exploits; but, except for that, he will soon be forgotten like the rest. His only hope lies in looking elsewhere-elsewhere in a realm for which I alone have calculated the ident.i.ty."

"Then where is this place?" Alodar persisted.

"Will you agree to bring back to me the pollen of the giant harebell flower in exchange for what I will tell?"

"I will make no-" Alodar began.

"Yes," Phoebe interrupted. "Yes, tell us and we will

go."

"No, you have no authority," Alodar cut back in. "Wait, Palodad. Only I am-"

This time the words of the archimage were put off by a second blast of radiation from the hearth. A billowing ball of orange flame rolled into the room, pushing Kestrel backward and to the side. A heavy black smoke coursed along the stone floor and an acrid smell stung Kestrel's nose. He saw a large brown djinn stoop to enter the room from the fireplace, thick scales covering limbs that pulsed with tight muscles. The tips of leathery wings sc.r.a.ped against the slope of the ceiling, the fire behind shining through between a network of blackened veins. A single row of coa.r.s.e hair sat atop eyes deep-set in rugged and angular bone. Tiny nostrils flared with each breath above a mouth distorted to the side in a permanent sneer.

"I am Camonel." The demon's deep voice rumbled much louder than it had on the other side of the flame.

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"Palodad instructs me to transport whomever you have selected into the realm of the fey."

"The fey," Alodar said. "What manner of place is that?"

Camonel's deep laugh again filled the room with sound. "You men know of it in your fantasies. Underhill kingdoms, trilling pipes with melancholy airs, creatures you think no larger than the smallest imps."

"Not the realm of the fey," Astron interrupted. "They are all wizards, every one. It is no place for a cataloguer who is merely striving to serve his prince. Why can it not be someplace gentle, as is the realm of men?"

"I am ready," Phoebe said. With her chin thrust high, she stepped forward to where the djinn stood in front of the hearth.

"Wait," Kestrel heard himself shout. "Wait, Phoebe, this is madness. Think of what you are doing. You cannot follow that monster, aided by no more than the likes of Astron."

"Why, I did not intend to." Phoebe looked back. "It is to be the three of us, just as from the beginning."