"Thank you, My Lord. Come along, flute." And she went out.

"What's she up to?" Tynian asked.

"Sephrenia almost never explains things in advance," Kalten told him. "Or afterwards either, I've noticed," Talen added, looking up from his drawing. "Speak when you're spoken to," Berit told him.

"If I did that, I'd forget how to talk."

"Surely you're not going to permit this, Alstrom?" Ortzel said angrily.

"I don't have much choice," Alstrom replied. "We absolutely must get you to safety, and this seems to be the only way."

"Did you see Krager out there too?" Kalten asked Sparhawk.

"No, but I imagine he's around somewhere. Somebody's got to keep an eye on Adus."

"Is this Adus so very dangerous?" Alstrom asked.

"He's an animal, My Lord," Kalten replied, "and a very stupid one. Sparhawk's promised that I get to kill Adus if I don't interfere when he goes after Martel. Adus can barely talk, and he kills for the sheer pleasure of it."

"He's dirty and he smells bad too," Talen added. "He chased me down a street once in Cammoria, and the odour almost knocked me off my feet."

"You think Martel might be with them?" Tynian asked hopefully.

"I doubt it," Sparhawk said. "I think I nailed his foot to the floor down in Rendor. It's my guess that he set things up here in Lamorkand and then went to Rendor to hatch things there. Then he sent Krager and Adus back here to set things in motion."

"I think the world would be better off without this Martel of yours," Alstrom said.

"We're going to do what we can to arrange that, My Lord," Ulath rumbled.

A few moments later, Sephrenia and Flute returned.

"Did you find the things you need?" Sparhawk asked.

"Most of them," she replied. "I can make the others."

She looked at Ortzel. "You might wish to retire, Your grace," she suggested. "I don't want to offend your sensibilities."

"I will remain, Madame," he said coldly. "Perhaps my presence will prevent this abomination from coming to be."

"Perhaps, but I rather doubt it." She pursed her lips and looked critically at the small earthen jar she had carried from the kitchen. "Sparhawk," she said, "I'm going to need an empty barrel."

"He went to the door and spoke with the guard.

Sephrenia walked to the table and picked up a crystal goblet. She spoke at some length in Styric, and with a soft rustling sound, the goblet was suddenly filled with a powder that looked much like lavender sand.

"Outrageous," Ortzel muttered. Sephrenia ignored him.

"Tell me, My Lord," she said to Alstrom, "you have pitch and naphtha, I a.s.sume."

"Of course. They're a part of the castle's defences."

"Good. If this is to work, we're going to need them.

The soldier entered, rolling a barrel.

"Right here, please," she instructed, pointing to a spot away from the fire. He set the barrel upright, saluted the baron and left.

Sephrenia spoke briefly to Flute. The little girl nodded and lifted her pipes. Her melody was strange, hypnotic and languorous. The Styric woman stood over the barrel, speaking in Styric and holding the jar in one hand and the goblet in the other. Then she began to pour their contents into the barrel. The pungent spices in the jar and the lavender sand in the goblet came spilling out, but neither vessel emptied. The two streams, mixing as they fell, began to glow, and the room was suddenly filled with star-like glitterings that soared, firefly-like, and sparkled on the walls and ceiling. Minute after minute the small woman poured on and on from the two seemingly inexhaustible containers.

It took nearly half an hour to fill the barrel. "There," Sephrenia said at last, "that should be enough." She looked down into the glowing barrel.

Ortzel was making strangling sounds.

She put the two containers far apart on the table. "I wouldn't let these two get mixed together, My Lord," she cautioned Alstrom, "and keep them away from any kind of fire."

"What are we doing here?" Tynian asked her.

"We must drive the Seeker away, Tynian. We'll mix what's in this barrel with naphtha and pitch and load the siege engines with the mixture. Then we'll ignite it and throw it in amongst Count Gerich's troops. The flame will force them to withdraw, temporarily at least. That's not the main reason we're doing it, however. The Seeker has a much different breathing apparatus from that of humans. While the fumes are noxious to humans, to the Seeker they're lethal. It will either flee or die."

"That sounds encouraging," he said.

"Was it really all so very terrible, Your Grace?" she asked Ortzel. "It's going to save your life, you know."

His face was troubled. "I had always thought that Styric magic was mere trickery, but there was no way you could have done what I just saw by charlatanism. I will pray on this matter. I will seek guidance from G.o.d."

"I wouldn't take too long, Your Grace," Kalten advised. "if you do, it could be that you'll arrive in Chyrellos just in time to kiss the ring of the Archprelate Annias."

"That must never happen," Alstrom declared sternly.

"The siege at the gates is my concern, Ortzel, not yours. Therefore I must regretfully withdraw my hospitality. You will leave my castle just as soon as it's convenient."

"Alstrom!" Ortzel gasped. "This is my home. I was born here."

"But our father left it to me. Your proper home is in the Basilica of Chyrellos. I advise you to go there at once."

Chapter 6.

"We'll need to go to the highest point in your castle, My Lord," Sephrenia said after the Patriarch of Kadach had angrily stormed from the room.

"That would be the north tower," he replied.

"And can one see the besieging army from there?"

"Yes."

"Good. First, however, we must give your soldiers instructions on how to proceed with this." She pointed at the barrel. "All right, gentlemen," she said crisply, "don't just stand there. Pick the barrel up and bring it along, and whatever you do, don't drop it or get it near any fire."

Her instructions to the soldiers manning the catapults were fairly simple, explaining the proper mixture of the powder, naphtha and pitch. "Now," she went on, "listen very carefully. Your own safety depends on this. Do not set fire to the naphtha until the last possible instant, and if any of the smoke blows in your direction, hold your breath and run. Under no circ.u.mstances breathe any of those fumes."

"Will they kill us?" one soldier asked in a frightened voice.

"No, but they'll make you ill and confuse your minds.

Cover your noses and mouths with damp cloths. That may protect you a bit. Wait for the baron's signal from the north tower." She tested the wind direction. "Hurl the burning material to the north of those troops on the causeway," she told them, "and don't forget to throw some at those ships in the river as well. Very well then, Baron Alstrom. Let's go to the tower."

As it had been for the last several days, the sky was cloudy, and a brisk wind whistled through the unpaned embrasures of the north tower. Like all such purely defensive constructions, the tower was severely utilitarian.

The besieging army of Count Gerich looked oddly ant-like, a ma.s.s of tiny men with armour glinting the colour of pewter in the pale light. Despite the height of the tower, an occasional crossbow bolt c.h.i.n.ked against its weathered stones.

"Be careful," Sparhawk murmured to Sephrenia as she thrust her head out of one of the embrasures to peer at the troops ma.s.sed before the gate.

"There's no danger," she a.s.sured him as the wind whipped at her hooded white robe. "My G.o.ddess protects me."

"You can believe in your G.o.ddess all you want," he replied, "but your safety is my responsibility. Have you any idea of what Vanion would do to me if I let you get hurt?"

"And that's only after I got through with him," Kalten growled.

She stepped back from the embrasure and stood tapping one finger thoughtfully against her pursed lips.

"Forgive me, Madame," Alstrom said. "I recognize the necessity of chasing off that creature out there, but a purely temporary withdrawal of Gerich's troops won't really do us all that much good. They'll return as soon as the smoke dissipates, and we still won't be any closer to getting my brother safely away from here."

"If we do this right, they won't return for several days, My Lord."

"Are the fumes that powerful?"

"No. They'll clear off in an hour or so."

That's hardly time enough for you to make good your escape," he pointed out. "What's to prevent Gerich from coming back and continuing the siege?"

"He's going to be very busy."

"Busy? With what!"

"He's going to be chasing some people."

"And who is that?"

"You, me, Sparhawk and the others, your brother, and a fair number of men from your garrison."

"I don't think that's wise, Madame," Alstrom said critically. "We have secure fortifications here. I don't propose to abandon them and risk all our lives in flight."

"We're not going anywhere just yet."

"But you just said - "

"Gerich and his men will think they're pursuing us. What they'll actually be chasing, however, will be an illusion." She smiled briefly. "Some of the best magic is illusion," she said. "You trick the mind and the eye into believing wholly in something that's not really there. Gerich will be absolutely convinced that we're trying to take advantage of the confusion to bolt. He'll follow with his army, and that should give us plenty of time to slip your brother away to safety. Is that forest on the horizon fairly extensive?"

"It goes on for several leagues."

"Very good. We'll lead Gerich in there with our illusion and let him wander around amongst the trees for the next few days."

"I think there's a flaw here, Sephrenia," Sparhawk said.

"Won't the Seeker come back just as soon as the smoke clears? I don't think an illusion would deceive it, would it?"

"The Seeker won't come back for at least a week," she a.s.sured him. "It will be very, very ill."

"Should I signal the troops manning the catapults?" Alstrom asked.

"Not yet, My Lord. We have other things to do first. Timing is very important in this. Berit, I'll need a basin of water."

"Yes, ma'am." The novice went towards the stairs.

"Very well, then," she continued. "Let's get started."

She patiently began to instruct the Church Knights in the spell. There were Styric words Sparhawk had not learned before, and Sephrenia adamantly insisted that each of them repeat them over and over until p.r.o.nunciation and intonation were absolutely perfect. "Stop that!" she commanded at one point when Kalten tried to join in.

"I thought I could help," he protested.

"I know just how inept you are at this, Kalten. Just stay out of it. All right, gentlemen, let's try it again."

Once she was satisfied with their p.r.o.nunciation, she instructed Sparhawk to weave the spell. He began to repeat the Styric words and to gesture with his fingers.

The figure that appeared in the centre of the room was vaguely amorphous, but it did appear to be wearing Pandion black armour.

"You didn't put a face on it, Sparhawk," Kalten pointed out.

"I'll take care of that," Sephrenia said. She spoke two words and gestured sharply.

Sparhawk stared at the shape before him. It was much like looking into a mirror.

Sephrenia was frowning.

"Something wrong?" Kalten asked her.

"It's not too hard to duplicate familiar faces," she said, "or those of people who are actually present, but if I have to go look at the face of everybody in the castle, this could take days."

"Would these help?" Talen asked, handing her his pad.

She leafed through the pages, her eyes widening as she turned each page. "The boy's a genius!" she exclaimed. "Kurik, when we get back to Cimmura, apprentice him to an artist. That might keep him out of trouble."

"It's only a hobby, Sephrenia," Talen said, blushing modestly.