Time to return. Unwillingly Karsler Stornzof abandoned his perch, making his way down from the heights to rejoin his uncle on the beach. The sun was setting and the long red rays glanced strangely off the density of the Cognitive shadow looming above the Inspiration. Inspiration. The breeze coming in off the sea sharpened, and would grow colder as dusk gave way to night, but there was little relief to be found. The island offered no fuel for fire, not so much as a handful of dry seaweed. The breeze coming in off the sea sharpened, and would grow colder as dusk gave way to night, but there was little relief to be found. The island offered no fuel for fire, not so much as a handful of dry seaweed.

The three lifeboats contained lockers of foodstuffs and canisters of water, enough to sustain comfortless life for several days. No candles, lanterns, or blankets. The captain distributed provisions sparingly and equitably. Karsler Stornzof, along with everyone else, received a few swallows of stale water from a communal cup, a portion of hardtack, and a leathery strip of cured beef. The meat he offered to his nearest neighbor, a surprised sailor, and the hardtack he consumed without tasting.

The last traces of color fled the sky, the twilight deepened, the stars came out, and the moon displayed a half-averted face. Somebody's pocket yielded a stump of candle, whose light permitted continuation of the cards and dicing for a little while longer. n.o.body's heart was in the game. Spirits and voices were equally low. Presently the candle guttered and expired. Conversation did likewise, and the sailors glumly composed themselves for damp and sandy slumber.

Karsler walked alone along the beach until he came to a relatively dry and rockless patch of sand mounding at the foot of a boulder, and there he reclined. For a time he lay wakeful, watching the moonlight tease the waters of the bay. The air was chill and his stomach all but empty, but he did not mind in the least, for the silence and serenity of the spot more than compensated for minor discomforts. His mind swarmed with memories, not one of them stained with the crimson of warfare. He would gladly have rested thus for hours, but his lids drooped, the moon extinguished itself, and his memories gave way to dreams.

HE WOKE AT DAWN to a sky aglow with immoderate color. For a couple of moments he lay watching the roseate clouds, then reality reclaimed him and he sat up, his glance arrowing out over the bay in search of the to a sky aglow with immoderate color. For a couple of moments he lay watching the roseate clouds, then reality reclaimed him and he sat up, his glance arrowing out over the bay in search of the Inspiration. Inspiration.

The ship rode unremarkably at anchor. No sign of sorcerous shadow remained. Sometime during the night, while crew and pa.s.sengers slept, the Cognition of the anonymous Lanthian savant had exhausted itself. The danger was over, the impediment gone, the way east clear again.

Karsler supposed he should have been pleased. He rose without enthusiasm and rejoined his companions, who sat grouped in a semicircle, consuming their small rations of hardtack and water.

Torvid Stornzof did not choose to seat himself among inferiors. He stood apart, inflexible posture uncorroded by the salt air, garments impossibly unrumpled, monocle firmly in place. By no sign was it evident that he had spent the night p.r.o.ne upon a rock-strewn beach.

But perhaps he had not slept at all, perhaps he had remained wakeful and indomitably upright throughout the hours of darkness. Perhaps he had smoked cigarette after cigarette, and walked, and plotted strategy all night long. That, Karsler reflected, would be typical of the grandlandsman, who was even now making his will known to the Lanthian sailors.

"The Cognitive inconvenience has vacated the ship. We will return now to the Inspiration," Inspiration," Torvid informed his listeners, in Vonahrish. An emphatic gesture clarified matters for the linguistically limited. "Man the boats." Torvid informed his listeners, in Vonahrish. An emphatic gesture clarified matters for the linguistically limited. "Man the boats."

They could scarcely have failed to understand him, nor could they have doubted the authority of a Grewzian n.o.ble. Yet they neither spoke nor moved, but sat still, staring.

"Man the boats," Torvid repeated slowly and clearly, as if he imagined his audience hard of hearing or deficient in intellect.

Still no response. The vertical crease between the grandlandsman's black brows deepened, and he inquired, "Are you people stupid, or cowardly, or both?"

"Neither, sir." The ship's captain spoke respectfully to a Grewzian as prudence dictated, but could not suppress every trace of anger. "The men are concerned, and I share their reservations."

"Reservations? The crew, these common seamen, harbor-reservations?"

"They do, and rightly so," the captain returned stonily. "The Cognitive shadow seems to have vanished, but who's to say that it doesn't lurk yet belowdecks? These savant-sendings do not last forever. Another few hours, and we can be certain that it's gone."

"I do not grant you hours, Captain," Torvid replied. "Our schedule admits of no such delay. One concession to your faint Lanthian heart I will allow, however. You-" He picked a sailor at random. "Take one of the boats, row out to the Inspiration Inspiration, inspect her well, and when you have a.s.sured yourself of her safety, signal us to come aboard. You understand me?"

The question was relevant, for the Lanthian seaman displayed no sign of comprehension. He sat there blank faced, and Torvid waxed impatient. Turning to the captain, he commanded, "Instruct this animal."

The captain spoke in Lanthian, and the sailor answered in the same language. A skyward glance, together with a decided shake of the head, accompanied his reply.

"Seaman Second Cla.s.s Wisfa declines," the captain reported.

"Insist," Torvid advised.

"Seaman Second Cla.s.s Wisfa expresses the desire to wait until noon before approaching Inspiration Inspiration."

"Inform Seaman Second Cla.s.s Wisfa that his request is denied." Torvid drew his revolver and, for the second time within twenty-four hours, leveled it at a Lanthian stomach.

Seaman Second Cla.s.s Wisfa stiffened and his eyes bulged, but he did not stir.

"Go," Torvid commanded. His victim remained motionless, and he fired.

The Lanthian sailor grunted and doubled in agony. A second shot took him between the eyes, flinging him backward onto the stones, where he twitched and died. A sharp collective intake of breath greeted the homicide. A couple of shocked imprecations made themselves heard. One of the sailors surged to his feet, found himself facing the dead-steady barrel of Torvid Stornzof's revolver, and subsided.

"Grandlandsman." Karsler scrupulously masked all visible manifestations of his disgust. "I respectfully submit that this measure of severity is unnecessary, and even-"

"Opinion noted," Torvid cut him off. "We will debate the issue another day, if the topic entertains you." Addressing himself again to the captain, he commanded, "Order your men into the boats."

"I will issue that order at noon," the Lanthian returned.

"Perhaps you fail to understand me." Torvid leveled his revolver at the other's heart.

The captain folded his arms. Meeting the grandlandsman's eyes, he permitted himself a slight, contemptuous smile.

A protest strove to escape Karsler's lips, but he managed to hold it in. Opposition would only goad his uncle. Moreover, by every ancient law of Grewzian tradition he owed the head of the House his deference, obedience, and loyalty. Beyond that stood the clear necessity of presenting a united Stornzof front to foreigners and foes. His jaw tightened and he said nothing.

"You Lanthian sailors." Torvid's strong voice was easily audible above the rush of the surf and the cries of the seabirds. "Into the boats. We return now to the Inspiration. Inspiration. Disobey, and I will execute your captain." His eyes flicked the hostage as if daring contradiction, but the captain was silent. Disobey, and I will execute your captain." His eyes flicked the hostage as if daring contradiction, but the captain was silent.

A muttering uneasiness ruffled the Lanthian crew. Evidently their commander was a popular man.

Only one Lanthian ventured to request, "Permission to bury Wisfa."

"Denied," Torvid replied.

Again, Karsler managed with effort to hold his peace.

The muttering Lanthian resentment darkened, but the captain's peril could not be denied. Following only a brief hesitation, the sailors manned and launched the three boats.

The voyage back to the Inspiration Inspiration was short and silent. Once aboard, Torvid dispatched a couple of seamen to search below. Minutes later, the men returned to report the vessel clear of Cognitive visitants. was short and silent. Once aboard, Torvid dispatched a couple of seamen to search below. Minutes later, the men returned to report the vessel clear of Cognitive visitants.

"Then weigh anchor," Torvid commanded imperturbably. "Set course for Aeshno."

The Inspiration Inspiration steamed east. steamed east.

Upon the grandlandsman's insistence the Stornzof kinsmen appropriated the captain's cabin to their own use. In the days and nights that followed, aware of the bitter resentment that surrounded them on all sides, they took to sleeping in shifts, with one or the other ever at watch beside the door. They took most of their meals in the cabin and rarely ventured out onto the deck, except in one another's company. Such enforced proximity scarcely strengthened the familial bond, but may have exerted the desired effect upon the hostile crew, for there were no incidents.

The countless islands of the Jeweled Expanse streamed by.

Around noon of the sixth day, when the Aennorvi coastline appeared on the horizon, the Stornzof kinsmen were up on deck to see it.

"You are some twenty-four hours behind schedule." Torvid's tone smacked faintly of accusation.

"That is no disaster," Karsler returned shortly.

"It is not, thanks to me. You are fortunate that I am here to protect your interests. This jaunt has taught me that you are not ruled by your head, Nephew. You are a soldier and a Stornzof, yet sometimes seem almost as silly as a woman. There is no limit to the inconveniences we should suffer, were I to indulge your childish tenderness of heart."

8.

OUT! NOW! PLEASEPLEASEPLEASE!.

The silent appeals blazed through Nevenskoi's mind. Masterfire's urgency pressed hard.

Soon, the adept responded in silence.

Nownownow!

Patience, loveliness. Another few moments, and you will enjoy a new experience. We are leaving the workroom.

Workroom?

The place that you know. The s.p.a.ce enclosed by the four walls of stone. We are about to sally forth.

There is more s.p.a.ce?

Much more. There are corridors, stairways, many great chambers, and beyond them there is the world in all its vastness.

It is big? Big? Big?

Enormous.

There is food?

More than you could consume were you to stand so tall that your tongues lick the stars.

Food! s.p.a.ce! Big! I will eat the world, the whole wide world! I will eat the stars, for I am grand, I am fine, I am dandy, I am hot, I am MASTERFIRE! Let us go eat all of it!

"Eat," Nevenskoi mused aloud. "All of it. Everything."

EatEatEatEatEatEatEatEatEatEatEat- Impractical. Recalling himself with an effort, the adept forced himself to reply, No, my beauty must curb his enthusiasm. Today we venture only so far as the king's study. No, my beauty must curb his enthusiasm. Today we venture only so far as the king's study.

King? Badmeat?

Our benefactor, our royal patron. The one who visits us here, from time to time- Badmeat.

Has summoned us to his presence.

Why?

He is king. His motives are not to be questioned. Enough to know that His Majesty Miltzin desires the company of Masterfire and Nevenskoi.

Nitz.

What? What was that?

Nitz. Neeper. NitzNeeperNitzNeeperNitzNeeperNitzNeeper- Where did you get that name?

Inside you.

Well, keep it to yourself, sweet one.

Why?

That is a long story with which I would not weary my Masterfire. There are better things to think of. Even now Masterfire departs the workroom for the first time. There. Nevenskoi shut the door behind him. Nevenskoi shut the door behind him. It is done. We are out. It is done. We are out.

Let me see! Let me see!

Not yet.

Wanna see! Let me out!

Soon, I promise. For now, repose in patience above Nevenskoi's heart. This apparently fanciful sentiment reflected literal truth. The breast pocket of the adept's voluminous robe contained and concealed the tiny shrunken spark that presently was Masterfire. Obedient to its master's commands, the flame consumed nothing. Nevenskoi experienced neither pain nor even a sense of unwonted heat upon his skin. Despite his creation's physical diminution, the mental link persisted. This apparently fanciful sentiment reflected literal truth. The breast pocket of the adept's voluminous robe contained and concealed the tiny shrunken spark that presently was Masterfire. Obedient to its master's commands, the flame consumed nothing. Nevenskoi experienced neither pain nor even a sense of unwonted heat upon his skin. Despite his creation's physical diminution, the mental link persisted.

Where are we? Where?

Walking along a corridor deep underground. The walls are of plain grey stone, like the walls of my workroom, and the floor is likewise stone, uncarpeted. The ceiling is low, barrel vaulted, and hung at regular intervals with iron lanterns containing lighted candles.

There are flames? Like Masterfire? Wanna see them, wanna meet them, wanna dance, dance, DANCE!

They are not like you. They are mindless, unaware, and ignorant.

Can they dance?

I suppose so.

Wanna meet them!

Not now. We go to wait upon- Badmeat.

His Majesty.

EatEatEatEatEatEat- Behave yourself. Now we are climbing the stairs, the secret stairs known to the favored few. Thus we ascend un.o.bserved, and the location of my workroom remains undisclosed. Thus we ascend- With considerable effort. Nevenskoi's lungs labored, his heart pounded, and there was a st.i.tch in his side. Long before he reached the top of the stairs, he had to pause. Seating himself on one of the treads, he rested there, chest heaving and face sweating. No doubt about it, he was overweight and out of condition. He spent too much time in his workroom, he needed to get out and exercise. He also needed to decrease his intake of lard-smackers, deep-fried ganzels, and cracklers, or perhaps renounce them altogether. If only they weren't all so good. Just thinking of them made his stomach clench.

EatEatEatEatEatEat. Hungry! EatEatEat- Exactly.

Where are we?

Still on the stairway, but not for long. Hauling himself to his feet, Nevenskoi resumed the ascent. Presently reaching the exit he sought, he departed the concealed stairwell, emerging into a storage closet tucked into the shadowy corner of a forgotten utility room. Hauling himself to his feet, Nevenskoi resumed the ascent. Presently reaching the exit he sought, he departed the concealed stairwell, emerging into a storage closet tucked into the shadowy corner of a forgotten utility room.

The utility room opened onto a wide third-story corridor, and now his surroundings a.s.sumed a recognizably palatial aspect.

Highly polished marble underfoot, Nevenskoi reported soundlessly. Like rose-veined ice. Tall windows, floor to ceiling, overlooking the water gardens. Gigantic mirrors in the fanciest gilt frames Like rose-veined ice. Tall windows, floor to ceiling, overlooking the water gardens. Gigantic mirrors in the fanciest gilt frames you ever saw, and before each mirror, the white marble statue of a two-headed, four-breasted woman. His Majesty's tastes are singularly plural. you ever saw, and before each mirror, the white marble statue of a two-headed, four-breasted woman. His Majesty's tastes are singularly plural.

Let me see! Let me out!

Soon, I promise. Now we ascend three gilded steps, and pa.s.s beneath an archway covered with carven images of sharks, whales, rays, octopi, sea serpents, and other such denizens of the water- Badwater.