A demon broke away and came right at him. He felt long claws dig into his face. He couldn't see, couldn't see. He pictured Mawdoor in his mind's eye and flung his knife.

He heard a loud yell but couldn't see where his knife had struck.

Three more demons were on him now, and he couldn't get them away. The pain was hideous, worse than the a.s.sa.s.sin's sword in his heart. He saw the red demon hovering, waiting for the black demons to hold him. Then it would come in for the kill.

He fought, breaking necks, arms, legs, but there were just too many. He used all his power, but the demons were from another realm, a realm not touched by a wizard's magic, and Mawdoor had brought them here, doubtless a favor for his long-dead father. He felt Brecia's magic slamming against the demons, but nothing helped.

She knew the demons would kill him, rip him to pieces, and knew he was helpless against them. She had to hurry.

She yelled, "Bring me the key!"

In that instant, the key was her hand. She stuck the small key in the cask lock and turned it. The lid flew open. Brecia raised the cask toward Mawdoor and yelled, "Come inside, Mawdoor, for all eternity! Your demons with you!"

There was a huge whooshing sound. The demons and Mawdoor all came together in a tall funnel. They were whipped together. She saw that Mawdoor's golden sword seemed to be bending around him, holding him prisoner. The whole mess of them hovered over the cask, then whooshed into it. She slammed the lid closed and turned the key.

The prince was on his hands and knees, his head down, panting. He was covered with blood.

She touched him, kissed him, began her chants to heal him. But the demon wounds didn't respond. She said, "Prince, listen to me. I can't heal you. We must use other methods."

"There are no other methods," he said, and knew that very soon he would be dead.

"No, you stupid prince, there must be something!"

He managed to raise his head to look at her. "Brecia, dearest, I am so very sorry that it must end like this. The b.a.s.t.a.r.d brought in demons. Who would have imagined that? Mawdoor surprised me. I wonder where my knife hit him."

She was utterly terrified, utterly distracted, and said, "Your knife took off his ear."

"Good. Ah, this was very interesting." And he fell onto his side, his eyes closed, his blood flowing bright and thick onto the ground.

"No!" Brecia raised her head and yelled, "Help me!"

Ghosts filled the air, swirling about the prince, who lay still on the ground. They were nearly transparent, save for their long, shadowy, naked feet. Brecia watched them settle over him, enfolding him in their very being, and they began to chant. Soft, sibilant voices rose to fill the courtyard, to rise into the heavens themselves.

Brecia fell to her knees beside the prince. She felt one of the ghosts gently shove her back. She sat back on her heels and watched. And she prayed. There was nothing else she could do.

The soft chanting began to fade just as the ghosts themselves began to thin into the air itself. Then they were gone, back to the oak forest.

The prince lay motionless on the ground. No more blood was on him, but he was so still. She leaned over him, touching his beloved face, stroking her fingers over his chest, his arms, his legs. "Prince, enough of this. Come back to me, my lord."

Time pa.s.sed, endless time. She was ready to scream her fear, her sorrow when suddenly his eyes fluttered open. He smiled up at her.

She leaned down and kissed his mouth.

"Your tears are wetting me, Brecia."

"You mad, mad prince." She kissed him again and again. "You will be all right." She continued to kiss his mouth, his nose, his ears.

But he was so tired, his very being so battered, that he couldn't even kiss her back, and surely that was something he hated.

Slowly, strength flowed back into his body. He drew a deep breath and sat up. He shook his head. There was no more blood, no more of the huge wounds the demons had gouged into his body, some of them nearly tearing him in two. He said, "Your ghosts saved me."

"Our ghosts, prince," she said. "Our ghosts."

"You called for the key. That was very smart of you, Brecia. You opened the cask?"

She nodded at the cask, sitting on the ground, unmoving, the key in the lock. "Mawdoor and all the demons are inside, his golden sword wrapped around him."

"All that animal wailing," the prince said, "it was a charming idea." He nodded to the cask and in the next instant, it was in his hands. "What happened?"

"The demons seemed to grab Mawdoor up, all twisting together. They looked like a whirling cyclone, coming straight toward the cask. It was like a huge funnel sinking deeper and deeper into the cask until I couldn't see it anymorea""

"a"and you slammed the lid down and locked it."

She nodded.

He held the cask close, frowned. "This is very curious. I know they're in there, but I can't feel them, any of them. I can sense nothing."

She kept her eyes on that cask, still so afraid that it would burst open and the demons would burst out and tear him to shreds and Mawdoor would force her to watch him die. She was tensed, alert, everything in her ready to whisk the both of them off to Spain, perhaps for some hunting, if something happened. She hated that cask, hated the creatures imprisoned inside it.

The prince was rubbing his chin. "I am thinking, Brecia. We must deal with this cask."

Brecia knew it, she just didn't want to deal with it yet. She looked over at Maida, who was lying on the ground, a scream frozen on her mouth. All the other old people were as still as the fortress itself. She couldn't see any animals.

There was no more danger now. Brecia closed her eyes, chanted ancient words that none now understood. The earth righted itself. The old people didn't move much. They were too frightened to do anything but stare. A single chicken squawked. The first thing Maida did was shout, "What did you do to Mawdoor, you foul witch?"

"Mawdoor is no more," Brecia said. "All will be right again."

Maida rose, dusted herself off, and walked to the prince and Brecia. She was frightened, it was clear, but she had guts. "You are magic, just like my lord."

"Yes," the prince said easily. "We are magic, and Mawdoor will no longer terrorize the earth."

Brecia stared at Maida with her thick, fiery hair and her moss-green eyes, and her own green eyes narrowed. She said, "You insulted me, you stupid woman, actually waved your fist at mea""

"Aye, and didn't you just hurl me right against that wall over there? No thanks to you that my leg isn't broken."

"a"but I am beginning to think that you would make a great mistress of Penwyth."

Maida said, sneering, "I would be great at anything I did, but let me tell you, miserable witch, I wouldn't have long remained Mawdoor's mistress. He would have strangled you finally, and I would have married him!"

"No, you stupid woman, I didn't mean that you would be great as some man's mistress. I meant that you should run things around here."

Maida's mouth hung open, then her brain came alive. "Ah, and just how will I protect this land? What do you have to say to that, ugly witch?"

"I'm not ugly. I'm beautiful, just ask anyone. Besidesa"and know that I hate to say thisa"you and I do look somewhat alike, what with all the red hair and the green eyes."

"Hmmm. The red and green look better on me."

The prince coughed, cleared his throat. "Now, to protect this land, Maida, the first thing to do is get rid of this black fortress." The prince held his wand close and lightly stroked it on his sleeve. In the next instant there was a very normal structure made of wood, wattle, and daub. Even the pigsty went from menacing black to weathered wooden planks lashed together with thick ropes.

The people murmured. The animals yelped.

"Hmmm," Maida said. "How am I to keep Penwyth going with all these wretched old people?"

The prince merely smiled and said, waving his hand in a dramatic wide circle, "To live a very long life at Penwyth will never again be a punishment. Long life will be bestowed upon those who are utterly loyal to Penwyth. Return those ancients to what they were."

Brecia shouted, "Bring youth back to the old people!"

And with that utterance, they became what they'd been years before. They shook themselves, rubbed elbows and knees that no longer hurt, scratched heads with hair on them once again. Three young maids did a dance, kicking up their heels. Several boys yelled and cursed. Young voices filled the courtyard. It was a marvelous sound. Some of the young people just stood there, wondering at what had happened and marveling at it.

Brecia called out, "Mawdoor is no more. Your lives are yours again."

Maida looked around, rubbed her hands together. "Look yon. I believe that beautiful young man standing over there, looking quite surprised and pleased, was old Dorom. Hmmm. What a lovely smile he has."

"He has all his teeth again," Brecia said.

"I think I must see if his breath is sweet as well," Maida said, and walked to young Dorom.

The prince said, stroking his jaw, "You know, Brecia, I am feeling labyrinthine. Yes, the workings of my brain even exceed my normal complexity. I wish to protect Penwyth and all Maida's descendantsa""

"Given what she is like, I imagine her heirs will hold Penwyth close for a very long time. Now what is this, prince? You wish to cast some sort of spell on Penwyth?"

"No, I want a curse." He stroked his jaw three more times, looked quite pleased with himself, and raised the cask high in his hands for all to see. "Listen, all. If a man ever takes this land by force, let him die."

He smiled at Brecia. "There. It is done."

"For a labyrinthine mind," Maida said, tossing her lovely red hair, "you didn't have much to say." The prince nearly threw the cask at her. He was ready to take back his splendid curse when Brecia said, her voice carrying just as far as the prince's had, "If the Penwyth maid has red hair, if she has green eyes, then she will be saved."

The prince guffawed. "That miserable offering is so much better than my straightforward, clearly proclaimed curse? You merely protect anyone who looks like you and Maida."

Brecia shook her fist at him. "You're just angry because you didn't think to do it." She paused a moment, watching Maida give all the young people orders. She said, "You know, Maida would have made a great witch. Penwyth is now protected, Maida now has people to help her, and now"a"she sucked in her breath "a"now we must deal with the cask." She looked at it, shuddered just a bit. "What shall we do with it?"

"It must go to my cave. But first, Brecia, you must realize that a day will come when the curse must end. Do you know, I believe I have another labyrinthine thought."

He grabbed her. Brecia was so startled that she dropped the cask. But the prince snapped it up even as he kissed her ear. "Yes," he said, laughing and kissing her, "one day, long in the future, the curse will no longer help. It will hurt. It will have to be lifted, and thus I have decided to tie Mawdoor to the curse."

"Mawdoor? Are you mad?"

"No, listen. I will tie the curse to the cask, and since Mawdoor is inside, he must be a part of it. Trust me. You know, Mawdoor doesn't really deserve to remain forever with demons. No one is that rotten. It is too much." The prince opened his voice so that it could be heard in the very depths of a demon's mind and said, his mouth close to the cask, "Mawdoor, you now have only one ear, since I sent my knife through the other one, so you must listen carefully. You can free yourself in the future by breaking my curse and swearing to leave your demons in their realm. You will swear to become a wizard all can trust."

The cask shook in his hands. The prince leaned close, nodded, then straightened and smiled. "He is very, very angry, but how long can that last? Yes, I see it all clearly now. The time will come when the curse must be broken. A man will come, a man with a brain, perhaps a man with just a touch of magic. I will direct him, and all will be well." He closed his eyes, murmured words she couldn't hear, then said, smiling, "It is done."

She said, "This man will lose his magic and become completely mortal again?"

He looked down at her. "I don't know if I would go that far." He snapped his fingers. "Don't forget, just a touch of magic. This man will find the cask."

"Mortals always find things, no matter how well you hide them. With magic, this man will walk right to the cask and kick it. I certainly would. Will this man look like you, prince?"

"Since I am such a splendid specimen, what more could a man ask?"

She touched her wand to his nose, and he felt it kiss him. She was laughing as she said, "There must needs be a woman, to guide him, to make him laugh, to love him, to save his life countless times."

Brecia could have sworn that his chest puffed out larger than it should. He said, "And will she look like you?"

"Why not? Then they will be well matched. You know, I will give our man a little nudge as well. Let us hope he will deal well with Mawdoor."

"He will be my man. He will deal well with everyone. Perhaps he will have a bit of trouble with the woman, if she is too much like you. But he will win her over. He will tame her and she will worship him."

"Your arrogance," she said, kissing his chin, "charms me."

She saw that all the people were talking about them but were too afraid to come close. "Let us leave them with a tale to tell over their winter fires." She took his hand and cried, "Home!"

And they vanished.

The staring people heard a woman's voice, as if from the very air above them, "Come, show me unnatural things, prince. Will you really ask me to be on my knees for hours at a time?"

A great laugh rumbled through the sky.

33.

Present.

WHEN THE VOICE SCREAMED "NO!" Merryn thought her heart would stop and she would collapse and die in this wretched hole twenty feet under a cave floor.

Bishop was still, not moving even a finger, staring into the cask.

The earsplitting noise of wild animals charging toward them slowly fell away, until it became nothing more than a sound that, oddly, soothed the mind and the ear, like the smooth breaking of waves against a sh.o.r.e.

"There is something in there," he said.

She grabbed his hand. "No, don't reach into that thing. We don't know what will happen."

"That's true, we don't. But we must know." She was so afraid, she'd locked her teeth together. She didn't want to watch, but she did. Her eyes followed his hand as it sank slowly into the cask.

The cask wasn't deep, no more than six inches at the most, but his hand kept going down, down, down even further, until he was up to his elbow.

He was on his knees, leaning over the cask now, his entire arm in the cask, his fingers outstretched.

He looked at her. "I don't feel anything, nothing hot, nothing cold."

A voice said clearly, "I am Mawdoor, keeper of the curse, prisoner in this d.a.m.ned cask for longer than a wizard should exist. Release me, mortal."

Bishop said without hesitation, his voice deep, "Will you swear that you will be the most trustworthy wizard in this world?"