"When the tales are put away and men read them no longer?" Phoebe looked up from where she was stirring the thinnest of the three fluids with the end of her horn. She spoke in a halting voice, the unfamiliar words of a new language setting heavy on her lips.

"If the creation has by that time not achieved a sufficient vitality of its own, if it has flaws and inconsistencies like a poorly constructed watch, it will eventually run down and be compressed back into the nothingness of the sea-just as you saw with the attempt of the demon." Nimbia paused and her eyes widened. "But if

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the construction has been a sufficiently skilled one, with sentient beings of its own that believe in themselves, in their own existence, then the realm remains. Those inside provide the outward pressure that keeps the crushing forces of the all-enveloping sea at bay-a true creation of great art.

"That is what we strive for. It is the ultimate goal to which any fey can aspire-to create a new realm equal to our own, one that exists in and of itself, with all the thought being provided from inside, rather than the continued attention of those who first brought it into life.

"You saw the vitality of my creation when viewed through the circle of djinns. It lived, lived of its own volition! There should have been no way for Finvarwin to judge it inferior to empty motions of Prydwin's-despite the fact that what I did was accomplished without a mate."

"If you think the outcome of your efforts not to be fairly determined," Astron said, "then why do you try? Surely, with all that you command, there are other amus.e.m.e.nts that would serve as well."

Nimbia shook her head slowly. "There is nothing to compare to the joy of creation," she said. "The sense of accomplishment of bringing into being an existence out of the void. To be denied that pleasure is the greatest penalty that the high king can exact."

She waved her arm about the throne room. "The melancholy is not only my own. Even though only a king or queen is able to force a realm to spring from the void, everyone who serves contributes their thoughts to make it grow. They all savor the feeling of accomplishment, the thrill and wonder when the realm takes on a sense of being of its own, the pride when other underbills view what they have wrought."

Nimbia shook her head a second time. Fresh tears glistened in the corners of her eyes. "It is the duty of a hillsovereign to provide the basis, so that all can share. Her own sadness is all the greater because she must bear the responsibility of so many in addition to her own." "Duty," Astron said. "Is not that from the subject to

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the prince? You seem to state that it is the other-"

"The other realms have witnessed this melancholy, although they do not understand." Nimbia ran on, apparently not hearing the interruption. "In times past, other underhills unable or forbidden to create on their own have been reduced to merely watching. But just to observe realms who owe none of their existence to your craft makes the restrictions all the more heartpiercing. Usually we remain underground, so as to block out even the hint of pipes from others who are more fortunate."

"Then you do look into the realm of men," Kestrel said. "It could be that our tales are not by mere luck the same after all."

"My own underhill has not viewed the affairs of humans," Nimbia said, "but that does not preclude the actions of many others. And as you probably have surmised, the ring of djinns can be seen through from either side. No doubt if you have legends of strange beings, piping music, and forced gaiety appearing out of the mists and then vanishing again, it is because of the fey."

Nimbia stopped speaking. She dabbed at one tear on her cheek and stared off into the distance, apparently consumed by her own innermost thoughts.

"We asked before about the ultimate precept," Astron said after a moment. "Could it be that it too plays a part in the construction of these creations?"

Nimbia looked back down at Astron. She slowly shook her head. "Of such I have not heard," she said. "Our realm is governed by seven dictums of magic, like all the rest. The last two are those of dichotomy and ubiquity as you well know. They are the basis for the communication with the mighty djinns of your kind."

"Then perhaps one of the others," Astron said.

Nimbia rubbed her cheek dry and flicked back a golden curl over her shoulder. She shrugged again and began reciting, as if she were a broodmother instructing her latest clutch. "Of the first I have already spoken-reality follows from pa.s.sion. Our temperaments are not placid, like those of the skyskirr. Instead, they are the

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fuel that fires our imaginations when we attempt to wrest

a new universe from the void.

"The second as simply stated-strength comes from the lattice-guides our thoughts as we try to create. It is easier to conceive of a realm with dictums of magic close to our own, rather than more exotic ones about whose existence we can only guess.

"The third is a warning-weakness comes from contradiction. As I have already explained, a realm will eventually wind down and stop, because the postulates that we use in its beginning do not mesh into a harmonious whole.

"Of the fourth, even you have probably heard enough -two is greater than one and one. Somehow, when we are paired as loving mates, the creations are more fertile, more exotic, more likely to live.

"The fifth is stated-reap what you sow. It is the pollens we toss into the rings that somehow unlock the thoughts deepest within us, that give rise to our most exciting thoughts. Each type has its own-"

"Wait. Pollen did you say?" Astron interrupted.

"Yes," Nimbia said. "We do not know for sure exactly how they play a role in the process, but none of the fey attempts to create or embellish without a large supply on hand." She motioned to one of the sentrymen standing in the entryway. He retrieved a small chest that he brought forward and placed at Nimbia's feet.

Nimbia opened the arched lid. She gingerly reached in to withdraw a p.r.i.c.kly sphere like the one Astron had seen Vastowen toss into the ring. It was far larger than the others, however, as big as a small melon. Nimbia held it delicately with extended thumbs and forefingers.

Astron looked at the globe carefully and understood Nimbia's cautious touch. The entire surface of the orb was covered with cl.u.s.ters of tiny barbs. Smaller hairtike shafts radiated in all directions from each of the p.r.i.c.kly pylons and, in a blurry haze, these were anchorage for tinier projections still. Beyond the craft of the finest weaver in his own realm, the structure of sharp piercing

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points iterated into infinitesimals, far smaller than the eye could see.

"We toss pollens through the ring of djinns to seed our thoughts in the void," Nimbia said. "Our success seems greater the more ma.s.sive they are. To create something of value before Prydwin comes, I would need to use the largest of all, but in all of my underbill I have only this one."

"Are they hard to find?" Phoebe asked. "Could a human wizard help in their retrieval?'1

"The flowers that produce them abound in a glen not too far away. The problem is not in harvesting them but harvesting them now. At present, the glen is alive with the hum of its guardians, and no one dares enter until they have gone on their way. After so many did not return, wisely did Finvarwin issue the prohibition-"

"We seek a pollen as part of our quest," Astron said. "This one that you desire, what is its name?"

"This would be called harebell in the realm of men." Nimbia nodded at the sphere in front of her. "That is why your question on our arrival struck such a chord. Of course, of all that I could wish, it would be the best. But of all that there are, it is the one I cannot obtain."

"Harebell pollen-and you can create," Kestrel said excitedly. "Create for Finvarwin so that you can get answers as a boon-answers that Astron seeks." His face broke into a broad grin. "Wipe the tears, Nimbia," he said. "I have a deal for you."

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Harebell Pollen.

ASTRON adjusted the straps that ran across his chest. He had gotten quite used to the tunic and leggings of men, but now the rucksack was a totally new sensation. He looked out between the columns of the raised hilltop and saw Kestrel urging him to hurry. Beside the human stood six of Nimbia's sentrymen, each carrying a long copper-tipped spear in addition to the dagger at his side. Their faces were rigid with tension; none showed Kestrel's enthusiasm to be under way.

Astron took a step forward and then hesitated. The opening in the wall to the left led to the throne room. He poked his head through the doorway and saw that Nimbia was alone, still sitting on her throne where they had left her when the planning was complete.

Despite the short length of his training, Kestrel had been most glib. Whatever dangers lurked in the harebell glen, he had said, they well might not affect human or demon at all. With a modest escort to protect against a chance encounter with Prydwin's forces, he and Astron would fetch the pollen and share with Nimbia what they obtained.

Then, with boosted confidence from the pollen's potency, Nimbia could create something that Finvarwin certainly would approve. They would not wait for the next judging or to see if they could fend off Prydwin's attack, but go directly to the high king for a special presentation. Phoebe could even help in the control of the ring of djinns. At the very least, Finvarwin's previous judgment would be reversed and Nimbia's underhill regain its independent status.

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With Finvarwin's answer to the riddle and the harebell pollen as payment for Palodad, the old demon would get Elezar restored to power and he in turn would explain to Alodar the innocence of Phoebe and Kestrel. With a little luck everyone would achieve exactly what was desired.

When Kestrel had finished, Astron saw Nimbia's spirits begin to lift. Now, a few hours later, as he prepared to leave, the sadness had totally vanished from her eyes; she stared off into s.p.a.ce, presumably thinking of her new creation.

Astron sc.r.a.ped his pack along the doorjamb and Nim-bia turned at the distraction. She smiled and beckoned him to enter.

"Any more questions, inquisitive one?" she asked as Astron drew closer,