"That is what you should be thinking of," he said, "the deeper meaning of the riddles, not the relative weight of air and lead."

Astron adjusted his pack and hurried to keep pace. "Then what is the answer?" he asked. "Tell me what secrets this other way of thinking reveals. Do you mean to imply that Caspar is under the control of a wizard, just as Elezar has succ.u.mbed to the archimage-that there is a being in some realm with a will great enough to subdue a prince of the lightning djinns?"

Kestrel stopped a second time at the crest of the last hill, while Astron struggled to catch up. "I do not know enough of your realm," the human said. "Perhaps there is no substance to my conjecture and everything is proceeding as it has been presented. But, as I have suggested, let your thoughts roam free. Perhaps, when you least expect it, an insight will come."

Astron wrinkled his nose. "It is hard to see the utility of such speculation," he said. "Although if that is the process by which you found a way to put imps in a bottle-"

The scene which stretched before them suddenly reached Astron's consciousness. He looked once at Kestrel and they both began to race down the slope. At the nadir of the glen, Nimbia's hillock stood elevated on the slender pillars as it had on their first arrival. But this time the underhill was ominously quiet and empty.

In silence, they ran onto the heavy stone flooring that

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had been raised from below the ground. Obviously no one was about. Many of the interior walls and part.i.tions had been removed and carted away. The dais of the throne room was bare. Empty sky showed through, where before had hung a delicate tapestry of vines. Two empty vats tipped on their sides were all that remained of the store of pollens and seeds. Several flutes and horns were scattered in a litter of leaves and copper swords on the stone floor. Here and there, spatters of blood mingled with the remains of other debris.

Kestrel and Astron raced about the empty corridors and then descended into the pa.s.sageways below ground. They found almost everything ransacked there as well. They entered Astron's cubicle and saw that only the book of thaumaturgy remained, tossed into a corner, pages down. Evidently its strange script was of no interest to whoever had come. Astron turned to leave but Kestrel ran forward to the book. He flipped it over and pointed excitedly to the inside of the front cover. There in a precise script Phoebe had left a final message.

"Pipers of Prydwin have been seen in the glen," Astron read aloud. "Nimbia fears that he plans to come just before the next judging and claim the bondage that is his due. Even without the pollen, she must create for Fin-varwin. It is one last desperate chance, even though Prydwin will certainly be there. I will accompany her and aid with my wizardry as best I can."

Kestrel quickly counted on his fingertips and looked at the notches carved in the doorjamb. "It is already the time of the next judging," he growled. "To the glen with the stream. If Phoebe and Nimbia escaped before the arrival of Prydwin's sentrymen that is where they will be."

Astron tapped the bulging pack on his back. "But without the pollen there is little chance they will succeed."

"Exactly," Kestrel shouted as he sprinted back up the stairs. "Somehow we must break through the ring that guards the glen and get them the help they need."

Astron felt his stembrain stir. Pulling Nimbia out of

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the ring with total surprise was one thing, but breaking through to Finvarwin's rock long enough to use the harebell pollen properly was quite another. A shuddering spasm squeezed the breath from Astron's chest. He remembered all too well the crushing power of the combined wizardry of the pipers. He had expected one of Kestrel's clever deceptions as the means to allow Nim-bia to compete again, not an insane dash that the humans enjoyed so much.

Astron watched Kestrel bound up the steps three at a time. Obviously the thoughts of Phoebe in peri! had been too much for the human. He had surrendered to the panic of his stembrain, rather than think through what must be done. Grimly, Astron forced calm onto his own churnings. He would have to use the best of his reason to convince Kestrel to formulate a plan.

Astron laid a hand on Kestrel's shoulder to restrain him as they peered out from the cover of the ragwort. The temptation to wrestle with the human's will flitted through his mind, but he put the thought aside. There was no time for that. He would have to hope that the Ipgic on which they had agreed would work instead.

"Look at them down there," Kestrel whispered desperately. "They are all alone, with not a single piper to guard them. At worst, Nimbia will become a slave to Prydwin; who knows what will happen to Phoebe."

"Yes, look at them," Astron answered. "Phoebe is cloaked. No one questions that she might not be one of their own kind." He touched the rea.s.surance of the hood he had scavenged from the debris of Nimbia's underbill. "I can pa.s.s through the ring with the same pretense. Your presence will only sound an alarm."

"You are a demon and know nothing of this sort of thing," Kestrel growled. "If it were not for the fact that your command of the language is better, 1 would be the one wearing the cape."

"It is what we have agreed," Astron said quietly. "Propose another plan if you have one belter."

Astron saw the muscles in Kestrel's face contort with

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indecision. After a long moment, he sighed and slumped to the ground. "Go ahead," he whispered. "Just remember to answer any challenges the way I have indicated, quickly and with confidence-as if it is totally bizarre that there should be any suspicion."

Astron nodded and began to rise, but Kestrel caught him by the arm. "And none of those fool questions of your own. There is much at stake here, not a petty exercise in collecting data for one of your catalogues."

Astron pushed away a sudden rush of irritation. "Cataloguing is by no means petty," he muttered. "No other djinn under Elezar's command-"

He slammed his mouth shut. Kestrel was right. There were more important things to attend to now. He looked down toward the bottom of the glen, from under the cover of the ragworts. Finvarwtn stood adjacent to his rock. Next to him, a circle of djinns arched into the sky as they had upon Astron's arrival. Prydwin stood in front of the flaming ring, partially blocking a view into another realm.

Within the fiery window, Astron saw what looked like two armies engaged in hand-to-hand combat, breaking limbs and spattering blood with intense dedication. The warriors on each side were thin-framed and delicate, like the fey. Their blows struck and parried in an almost stylistic dance, creating complex visual patterns that grew and decayed as the battle progressed. From the very center of the conflict, precisely straight paths of ashen white radiated out in many directions on a plane of gray and continued into the vanishing distance. Astron shook his head; he had never seen or heard the likes of such a place before.

A little farther to the right, he recognized Phoebe, despite the cloak; and next to her, similarly disguised, must be Nimbia, nervously pacing while she waited. As before, copper-daggered sentrymen ringed the slopes of the g!en, adding the force of their wills to the control of the djinns who strained to bridge the gap between the realm of the fey and those that lay beyond.

Astron grimaced and concentrated for the last time to

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push the laggings of his stembrain far beneath his conscious thoughts. He adjusted his hood to cover as much of his face as possible and stepped out onto the gra.s.sy

slopes.

He walked siowly down the hillside directly toward one of the sentry men, looking past him toward the bottom of the glen.

"Halt," the guard said when Astron was close enough for him to hear the swish of his cape. "Prydwin defends his creations against a challenger from a far underbill. He displays no less than his realm of reticulates. There is to be no interference until the judging is done."

"I bring pollen that is plentiful in that far underbill for my queen," Astron said. "She is expecting my presence and I must pa.s.s."

A strange thrill ran through Astron as he said the words. They were filled with untruth and tasted strange on his lips. Yet he noticed that the sentryman did not immediately reach for his arms. Instead he rubbed his chin in indecision and looked closer at what had interrupted his concentration.

"Lower your hood so that I see that you indeed are not from a local glen," the sentryman said. "King Pryd-win did not capture Queen Nimbia and all of her followers when he seized what had been granted to him in

the last judging."

Astron's stembrain rumbled. He felt sharp impulses rip through his legs, compelling him to step backward. He clenched his fists and willed his thoughts into control. "I am disfigured," he said quietly. "A dagger such as yours severed an ear from my head and left a great scar. I wear this hood to cover my shame. Surely you can let me pa.s.s so that no one will see."

The sentryman hesitated. Astron stepped boldly forward. "In any event, I am within your ring," he said as he glided past. "You will have opportunity to challenge me again after the judging is done. For now, I must obey my queen, who bids me come forth."

The sentryman frowned, but made no attempt to follow. Through squinting eyes, he watched Astron slowly

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march down the slope. Astron forced air into his constricted lungs. The strange thrill blossomed into delicious triumph. He ran his tongue over his teeth, trying to savor every aspect of the feeling.

He had succeeded in getting past the guard, but not with a display of strength, as would one of his clutch brothers, or even with the knowledge of the cataloguer. He had woven an appearance of reality and it had been accepted.

He looked at Prydwin standing near the circle of djinns as he approached and then at Nimbia and Phoebe pacing nearby. Astron reached over his shoulder and grabbed the topmost of the p.r.i.c.kly pollen grains from his rucksack. "The seeds for your planting, my queen," he said. "May your thoughts grow and prosper."

Nimbia's eyes widened in surprise and then she smiled. She said nothing, but pointed to the ground at her feet where Astron was to dump his burden. Astron removed the pack from his back and glanced again at the opening into Prydwin's realm. He saw the dancelike battle continue with an almost glacial slowness. A few spans away, the hunched figure of Finvarwin squinted at the motions with what looked like unwavering concentration.

"You see the vitality of the combat, my high king," Prydwin said. "It intensifies rather than diminishes."

"Enough," Finvarwin rumbled. "Let us see the offering of the cloaked ones who come from far away."