"Be careful, Prydwin," Astron dimly heard Finvarwin say. "Even a hillsovereign must abide by the decisions of the high king."

"1 will accept no punishment for the likes of this," Prydwin growled.

"First, a compet.i.tion that has been fairly won deserves its just reward," Finvarwin continued, "and then we will see what additional judgments are appropriate besides."

The high king paused briefly and cleared his throat. "Realities are no more than bubbles," he said. "That is the most profound truth that I know. If there is an ultimate precept, then somehow that knowledge must be a component part."

Astron tried to pull meaning from Finvarwin's statement but he could not. All he could do was focus on Prydwin's strident voice.

"There shall be no reversals of opinion, I say. If I cannot have Nimbia, then neither shall she have me. Quickly, sentrymen, I command you-al! of them through the flame."

Phoebe's scream blotted out what Finvarwin said next. The last thing that Astron remembered was a sensation of being lifted and then being hurled through the air.

PART FOUR.

The Two Realms Of Symmetry

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

Rotator's Move

KESTREL shook his head, trying to force his thoughts to order. The disorientation was not as great as the first time he had travelled between realms, but it was there, nonetheless. He felt Astron's pack slide from his grip and crunch into a sea of sand that surrounded him as far as he could see. Vaguely, he remembered grabbing at the pollen sack as he was hoisted from the ground by Pryd-win's sentrymen and bodily tossed at the ring of djinns. When he hit the plane of the vertical circle, he had felt a tremendous deceleration, like a ball of cotton hurled into a vat of thick mola.s.ses. The pack was almost wrenched from his grasp, but somehow he had held on and burst through to the scene that lay beyond.

He sat at what looked like the edge of a desert oasis. Astron lay crumpled at his side apparently unconscious. By Kestrel's feet was a placid circle of clear water with a diameter about twice the height of a man. He felt the rough bark of a tree at his back and saw five more arranged around the periphery at the vertices of a perfect hexagon. Phoebe wallowed to alertness in front of the tree directly opposite his own, trying to get her bearings. Next to the wizard, Nimbia slumped in a disarray of tunic, leggings, and cape.

A path of crushed white stones radiated away from each of the trees into the distance, across a featureless gray plane, vanishing in an indistinct horizon that blurred the separation of ground and air. A gentle breeze bathed the left side of his face and, just as in the realm of the fey, he could see no sun, only a diffuse light that seemed to come from all directions.

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Kestrel cursed himself for being so impetuous. But then what else could he have done? When Prydwin called his sentrymen down to Finvarwin's rock, there had been no option but to bolt from cover to offer what aid he could. Phoebe had been in danger, and he could not just idly stand by.

But there had been too many. Like a sack of flour, he had been hurled through the circle of djinns into the realm of Prydwin's creation. Dazed from the jarring impact, he had watched helplessly as the others followed. Before any of them could stir, the portal back to the realm of the fey clouded and then closed.

Kestrel started to rise in order to see farther from the oasis, but felt a great weight that resisted his motion pressing downward on his back and legs. He increased his effort and managed to stand, although his body twitched from side to side from the buffet of small unseen forces.

"Stop," Phoebe cried from across the pool. "Stop whatever you are doing. Somehow you are pulling me upward. I cannot move freely on my own."

Kestrel looked again at Phoebe and saw her more or less erect but hunched forward and grasping toward the ground with empty hands. He felt his own fingers suddenly start to wiggle. Then, when Phoebe flung her arm backward to clutch at the tree behind her, his own body followed in an almost perfect imitation. Kestrel frowned and released the tension in his legs. He collapsed to the ground and saw that Phoebe did the same in unison.

"Somehow we are bound together," he said in amazement. "There is great resistance when our motions do not imitate one another. What kind of strangeness is this?" He glanced quickly to his side. "Astron, wake up! Explain what is going on."

Kestrel saw the demon stir slightly and, out of the corner of his eye, Nimbia move as well.

"It is the realm of reticulates," Kestrel heard Nimbia say in an exhausted voice. "Prydwin considers it one of his two masterpieces, despite the eternal strife and

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in." She drew in a deep breath. 'The effort to create is exhausting. Give me a moment to regain my strength, and I will explain more."

Astron coughed and raised his head. Kestrel saw his nose wrinkle in puzzlement and then his dark eyes dart about the gray landscape. "Symmetries," he muttered, "like the hexagon of trees and the four of us at opposing vertices."

"Yes," Nimbia said. "This realm abounds in things that look the same under reflections, rotations, and other complex rearrangements. That is the way it was constructed. Actions that build symmetry are reinforced; those that break them are strongly r.e.t.a.r.ded."

"Most interesting," Astron said. "I even have difficulty holding my mouth shut when I listen to you speak."

"You saw the battle before Prydwin shifted the view to this isolated node." Nimbia's voice rather than increasing in strength grew still more faint. "This realm is one of violence; we must be away."

"But the reason for our quest," Astron said. "It has not yet been completed."

Kestrel looked again at the unfamiliar desolation and felt a sense of strangeness and dread far more intense than what he had first experienced in the realm of the fey. "Let us heed Nimbia's words and begone before we encounter something we cannot handle."

"I have no answer to the riddle," Astron persisted. Struggling against Nimbia's resistance, he pulled himself to a sitting position. "As far as I can tell, the words of the high king about reality and bubbles have little to do with a flame in the realm of daemon. How can they save my prince from Caspar's attacks?"

"Then tell it to the other, the one you call Palodad," Kestrel said. He pointed at the rucksack at this side. Phoebe's arm jerked in response. "Perhaps the one who reckons can a.n.a.lyze some hidden meaning, once you have paid him with the pollen."

"Palodad." Astron shuddered. He stopped speaking as membranes flicked over his eyes. "I had hoped to

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seek out my prince directly," he said after a moment, "but your logic is correct. It is to the decrepit one that we must turn for aid and succor. Yes, Palodad first and then, with what he will hopefully add to the answer, search for the hiding place of my prince."

He looked across the oasis at Phoebe and Nimbia. "A fire, wizards," he said. "Break down the barrier between the realms and contact the one that we must."

"I do not have the strength." Nimbia rocked back and forth like a rag doll. "Certainly not the firmness of will that is needed. Let the human female try. She has been most eager to prove her worth."

Despite the difficulty in moving, Phoebe managed to smile. Fumbling with the pockets in her cape, she retrieved several matches but they tumbled out of her grasp onto the ground. She bent forward to pick them up but clutched only empty sand several handspans from where they fell.

For a moment Phoebe bent over awkwardly, deciding what to do next. 'There is much resistance," she growled as she wrenched her head upward. "With what little kindling I have in my cape it is not such a small task as one might believe."

"It is the force of the symmetries," Nimbia said. "If you were broken free you could act alone."

Kestrel saw the demon look about the hexagon of trees and his nose wrinkle in thought.

"Yes, I believe it is the fact that we four are paired at opposite vertices," Astron said after a moment. "Kestrel, if you can move to another while Phoebe remains where she is, then the symmetry will be broken. All of us should then be free to act independently."

Kestrel quickly rose and turned toward the tree on his left but Phoebe's gasp of breath stopped him short. He looked in her direction and saw her body wrenched to the side, preparing to pace to the next vertex around the periphery just the same as he.

"No, not so fast," Astron said. "Relax your muscles and let Phoebe get situated first, perhaps with her arms

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wrapped about the tree. Nimbia can help her resist and then you can move away."

Kestrel breathed out slowly. He did not quite understand what Astron had in mind, but clearly they had to try something other than what first sprang to mind. As he let the tension out of his limbs, he felt insistent tugs that turned him back toward the tree. He let the forces wash over him and, without resisting, stepped up to the coa.r.s.e bark. His arms rose from his sides and extended about the trunk. With a tight grip, his hands clasped together on the other side. Across the pond, he saw that Phoebe was also hugging her tree in the same relative position as he.

Then Astron rose and approached the trunk from the opposite direction. The demon's arms widened into a semicircle. On the other side of the oasis, Kestrel saw Nimbia extend her arms around Phoebe's tree and grasp her hands together behind the wizard's back. At the last possible moment, however, Astron brought his hands sharply downward. Rather then intertwining behind Kestrel, the demon's fingers dug into the bark at his sides.

"Now," Astron said. "Gently release your grip and step away. With Nimbia's help, Phoebe might be able to resist following."