Not that I could do much about it. If this was an LSD trip, it wasn't wearing off-besides, I hadn't been dropping any lately-and if it was a dream, I couldn't figure out how to wake up. I had pretty much decided to take the pragmatic approach to the whole problem of being in a world that couldn't exist. Illusion, dream, hallucination, or altered state of consciousness coming from my maybe being hit by a car and lying in a coma-it didn't matter; I was going to have to treat it as if it were real. Magic might have been only another part of this dreamworld, but within the context of the illusion, it worked, and it could hurt me just as badly as a revolver in my own world. I was going to have to treat it as if it were real.

Not that I was going to have to work any magic myself, of course.

I didn't have to admit its existence that thoroughly-not as long as I had Frisson. Let him write up the spells, let him be the magician. So what if I was the one who read them aloud? That was just oral interpretation.

Hypocrite? Who, me? I was simply making an emotional adjustment necessary for psychological survival.

I took first watch, since I didn't feel much like sleeping with all that speculation going through my head. It didn't keep buzzing around very long, though, because Angelique was sitting there, unsleeping, just outside the range of the firelight, her form glowing in the night, her eyes glowing at me. I smiled in return, then closed my eyes, pretending to go to sleep.

I couldn't, of course. My favorite fantasy had come true; a beautiful young woman was head over heels in love with me, and I couldn't exactly be indifferent to that-couldn't just dismiss it and yawn, even if she wasn't anything more than a part of a very detailed hallucination-and even if she was just a ghost. Of course, pure love shouldn't care about bodies, but I'm afraid mine wasn't all that pure.

It also wasn't love. At least, I wasn't in love with her-or so I was trying to persuade myself. At least, I knew it wasn't real, just the result of a slip of the tongue, so to speak, a rhyme snapped out without due forethought, in a place where verse had a far more potent effect than it had any right to. And I knew da- darn well that Angelique wouldn't have been in love with me if I hadn't accidentally come up with the wrong spell.

But what could I do? Tell her that to her face? I couldn't quite summon that much cruelty-besides which, she probably knew already, but was still in love with me; knowing it was just the result of a binding spell didn't make any difference to the way she felt. No, all I could do was to try to spare her the pain of a phony romance, by not letting her know how I felt-but that was definitely becoming harder, with Angelique sitting there watching me adoringly, looking almost mortal in the darkness.

Then all of a sudden, she wasn't.

I mean, she was still watching me-but she was coming apart at the seams. Then even the pieces were coming apart, shredding into a hundred tatters, and her eyes had glazed, no longer seeing, no longer aware.

It didn't take much to figure out what was happening. I sat bolt upright, calling, "Angelique! Baby! Pull yourself together!" Then I snarled at myself for losing my poise and forgetting to make it rhyme.

I racked my brains for an integral verse, but all I could come up with was a variation on "Danny Boy": "But come ye back, all bits of ectoplasm!

Reintegrate, all shreds of lady fair!

Remain you here, in firelight and shadow, one integrated whole, with those who for you care!"

Okay, so it was doggerel. What do you expect, on the spur of the moment? But it helped-a little, at least. The tatters and shreds stopped moving. They hung suspended in midair, so that it seemed as if Angelique had just expanded to take in a bit more volume. I racked my brains again, trying to think of a verse that stressed reintegration and harmony of disparate elements-but a voice behind me called out, "Oh, come back together, All bits of my bonny lass, Pull all together, rejoin and tether!

Be all of one, in mind and in body!

Go not to pieces, go not so early!

Stay!

With those who care for thee, Care for thee rarely!"

Well, Frisson certainly had learned how to do odd things to rhymes and meters-but it worked; the tatters that were Angelique began to pull themselves back together.

Astonished, I whirled and saw Frisson sitting up in his blanket roll, sorting frantically through the scraps of verse he'd been scribbling since we pitched camp. I felt stunned-but I forced the feeling down and turned back to the rope in my magical tug-of-war.

She was looking a little more solid than before-but even as I watched, she was shredding again. Grasping at straws, I called, "Tarry, rash lady!

Am I not thy lord?"

No, I wasn't-and Angelique wasn't growing any firmer, either.

The bits and pieces of her ectoplasm were still drifting away from one another, their form only vaguely resembling a woman's now.

After all, the couplet hadn't rhymed-but at least she held steady for a minute.

Long enough for Frisson to thrust another verse into my hand, I gave it a quick glance, then read it aloud: "Thou art too long awaited, for Thy presence to be 'hated!

Tarry, lady-stay awhile, Till the sun returns to smile!"

That bought us some time, at least. Angelique's pieces began to pull together remarkably quickly; she was almost an integrated whole again. Frisson really didn't know his own strength. She became so whole that I could see she had wakened from whatever longdistance trance the enemy sorcerer had put her in; she was staring about her in horror.

I preferred something without a time limit.

"Oh, mistress mine, Where are you roaming,' Oh, stay and hearYour true love's coming, That can sing both high That can sing both high I was stretching the truth a bit, but I was sure her true love was coming some time-I just hoped she'd recognize him when he showed up.

But it had worked; her shape was almost complete again, as Frisson found another scrap of parchment and held it out. I caught it up, gave it a glance and frowned, but read it anyway: "Oh, lady fair, never be so wroth As to part the strong friendships thou hast wrought, When the spoiler pulls, as now she doth, Bear in mind the loyalties thou wast taught, And stay to bind thyself fast to us!"

The verse worked with overdrive; Angelique's form pulled together so fast I could have sworn I'd heard it click.

And was just as quickly shredded again. The enemy sorcerer must have been putting every ounce of his-or her-energy into that spell.

I was amazed. I actually began to feel tension in the air around me, growing stronger and stronger, like strands of unseen force, pulling and low, and low."

tighter and tighter, and I was the fly caught in the web. The fleeting thought went through my mind, that this must have been what an electromagnet felt like as you boosted the voltage-and I began to feel an intangible pushing, too, as if another field of force was fighting at my own. Was this how an electron felt, inside a transistor?

The webs of magical force intensified around me; I felt the unbearable tension of another magic field repelling my own, trying to pull Angelique apart. My mind reeled; I felt as if it were being stretched thin between two enormous engines, each pulling away from the other with enough force to bend an I-beam-and, in panic, I felt that Angelique's ghost must be annihilated even if its semblance stayed with Gilbert and Frisson, destroyed by the sheer stress of being stretched between two such huge forces.

In desperation, I bellowed the first verse that came into my mind: "What can a tired heart say, Which the wise of the world have made dumb?

Save to the lonely dreams of a child, 'Return again, come!'

Angelique's tatters began to pull together one more time, becoming more and more integral. Before I could even think about the implications, Frisson thrust another scrap of verse into my hand, and I called it out without even stopping to think: "Begone, dull tearing of the fair!

Away, false render of the pure!

Abductor vile, By thine own bile, Be stunned, and fade, And loose the maid!"

Something snapped all about us, something we couldn't hear, something that slammed us all to the ground with its recoil. Dazed, I scrambled to my feet, but the tension was gone, the two vast magical fields dispelled, and Angelique was whipping up, arrowing straight toward me to bury her face in my doublet-and into my chest-arms winding about me in a desperate effort to cling, sobbing in terror and fear.

Automatically, I folded my arms about her, trying to hold them just outside her form while I murmured soothing sounds, but I was really too shaken to appreciate the contact; I felt some interesting prickling, but thrust it out of my mind. I looked up over her translucent head at Frisson and gasped, "Thanks."

Frisson only nodded, though with shining eyes. The look on his face gave me a chill, but Angelique was beginning to gasp out syllables. I turned my attention back to her. "You're safe now," I assured her with more confidence than I felt. "It's gone."

"Aye," she gasped, "yet it was so evil! I feel soiled by its touch, whate'erit was-it was so vile!"

"It was," I muttered. "The magic in this land is of the most depraved sort, all right. Over Angelique's head, I saw Gilbert standing in front of Gruesome, looking at me with outrage. Because he hadn't been able to get in on the fighting, no doubt. I asked, "What sorcerer was that we fought?"

"It could have been none other than Queen Suettay herself,"

Frisson assured me. "Without doubt, she was humiliated by the lady's escape, and again by your countering of her spells."

"Yes." I nodded. "Since she planned on adding Angelique to her routine of ectoplasmic slaves-it does reflect on her, having Angelique saved at the last stab."

"And to lose all the rest of them to Heaven, too," Gilbert assured me. "It lowers the esteem in which her barons hold her-lowers it drastically; and several may dare to take arms against her, attempting to seize the throne for themselves. We weaken her by protecting the maiden, Wizard Saul."

"And thereby make it vital for Suettay to recover her," I inferred.

"She has to save face, or risk a rebellion. I1 "A nice little uprising would rather help us," Frisson noted.

"So the queen must slay you, to prevent that revolt," Gilbert summarized.

Angelique looked up, horrified, then stepped away from me, hands warding me off. "Nay, I must leave you, then-for by protecting me, you have made yourself a marked man!"

I felt my stomach sink, but managed to answer gamely, "Don't let it worry you-I've been a marked man for a while now." To keep myself from wondering how much I'd meant by that, I turned back to Frisson and said, "I really appreciate your help."

"I did aid, then?" Frisson asked, eyes glowing. "I truly did aid? "Oh, yes," I assured him. "You aided fantastically." But I said it with a feeling of awe verging on fear, and couldn't help wondering if Frisson should be classified as a secret weapon.

Apparently so, from the look on his face. His eyes were lit with joy, and his whole emaciated countenance was suffused with the look of a man yanked back from the grave. "I think," Frisson said, "that I have found my metier."

I knew we weren't going to get off that lightly-Suettay may have lost the skirmish, but she was bound to come back for the rest of the battle. After all, we hadn't eradicated her, just sent her away from us, presumably back to her castle-and once on her own territory, she'd be able to start plotting again. She didn't strike me as the kind of person who would give up. Considering that she had sold her soul and promised her boss a sacrifice, she couldn't give up, or she'd end up in Hellfire, permanently. Extremely permanently.

It made me uneasy, wondering what deviltry she was going to hit me with next. After all, she knew my weak point-I glanced over at my weak point, but she was only a heat shimmer in the sunlight.

That wouldn't keep Suettay from being able to find her, though. I resolved to keep an eye on Angelique, even if I couldn't see her.

About midafternoon, we came to a village that definitely looked as if it had seen better days. The thatches on the cottages were ragged and moldering; patches of daub were missing on the walls, letting the wattle show through. There was garbage in the streets, as if the people were too tired to take it as far as the garden patches to dig under for compost. The people themselves were ragged and gaunt, walking with a shuffling gait, hunched over, as if the weight of the world were on their shoulders. They darted us quick, suspicious looks out of narrowed eyes, and as quickly looked away, speeding up to get away from us. Within five minutes, we were walking down a street that showed not a single sign of life; there wasn't even a dog or a pig to go snuffling among the garbage.

Too bad; I would have bought it for roasting. The pig, that is, not the dog. I was that hungry, and I shuddered to think how Gruesome must have been feeling. But I noticed a larger-than-average hut with a pole sticking out above the door, and from the pole hung a bunch of broom corn-dry enough to use for sweeping, but still a " us which meant the place was a tavern.

"Let's see if they have anything to eat." I angled toward the house.

"If they do, I am not sure I would care to dine upon it." Frisson gave the dried broom a jaundiced eye.

But Gruesome perked up and rumbled, "Food!" so Frisson decided it would be a good idea, after all. At least, they followed me in, and so did Gilbert. Angelique's form brightened as she came into the gloom of the hut, but she disappeared instantly, leaving behind only a murmured, "I must not alright the landlord."

We sat down at a table. It was quiet as a tomb. I waited restlessly, watching Gilbert fidget and Gruesome drool, until my impatience got the best of me. Finally, I cried out, "Ho! Landlord!"

A formerly portly individual-at least I assumed he must have been fat once, because his apron was wrapped completely around him, and the strings were cinched three times-came out, frowning. "What the devil do ye Then he saw Gruesome, and blanched.

The troll rumbled, "Foooood!"

"But-but there is no food!" the tavernkeeper stammered. "At the least, there is little enough so that only my wife and hairns may dine, and that poorly. All else has been taken by the queen's bailiff!"

I sat rigid for a moment, then forced myself to relax and said, "That sounds like pretty high taxes."

"Tax' There is no question of tax-'tis a question of what the queen will let us keep! 'Tis simply that the crown takes all but the smallest quantity that will keep us alive to raise another crop! Every year they have taken more, and it has been two years since I had hops enough to brew my ale! We live by a small patch of garden, my wife and I, and poorly at that, for three-fifths of it goes to the queen, and on two-fifths must we dine!"

I felt instantly sorry for the guy, but Gruesome had started growling, and Gilbert was standing up, loosening his sword in his scabbard and saying, "If that be so, 'tis my duty as a squire to-" just then, the door crashed down.

Yes, down, not open-and half a dozen men in steel caps and leather jerkins burst in, waving halberds and shouting, "Out! Out, one and all! into the square with you all! I1 "What!" one shouted, seeing Gilbert's hand on his sword. "Would you strike 'gainst the men of the queen's bailiff? Nay, Beiner, slay him!

Gruesome bellowed, surging to his feet.

The soldiers stared for about one second. Then they slammed back against one another, scrambling for the door.

"They are strangers! They burst in without asking leave!" The innkeeper ran over to the soldiers' side fast. "I told them I have no food to sell, and they-" His fawning restored some measure of poise to the lead bully. He grabbed the man and threw him back to his mates, snarling, "Aye, like enough! We have naught to do with travelers-we have been bidden only to bring the townsfolk! Out with you, now!" And he made a hurried exit, leading his men out with the tavernkeeper in their midst-and Frisson and me right behind him.

in the middle of the press of bodies, Frisson hissed, "Master Saul, why have we come with the soldiers?"

"Because I'm curious," I hissed back. "But they might spot me for a ringer, because of my clothes. if they chase me out, you stick with it and come back and tell me what's going on.

"If I can," Frisson muttered, glancing about him fearfully.

That struck me as amusing. Frisson was probably the most dangerous man there, but he was scared! Somehow, though, I managed to restrain my boundless mirth.

The soldiers herded us out into the village square, along with a hundred other souls of both sexes and all ages. Another dozen soldiers were drawn up there around a roaring fire, and in front of them strutted a little, stocky man in a long black robe embroidered with astrological symbols. He grinned as the villagers were herded up, as if savoring the sight. When they were all there, he snapped, "You have not paid your taxes!"

A moan of dread swept through the crowd-but the tavernkeeper stepped forward. "Nay, Bailiff Klout-we have paid, we have all paid!

" "You know that we have!" an old woman wailed. "Why, you were young among us, yourself-" "Aye, and the most despised and shamed of any!"

Klout snapped back, eyes glittering. "Fools! You could not see my inner greatness!

But the shire reeve did, and has given you all into my power!"

"And every year you have made our taxes higher!" a woman groaned.

"The queen is never satisfied," Klout retorted. "Yes, you have paid your taxes for each person, each household-but you have not paid the tax for your village!"

"A tax for the village!" A man with a long white beard stepped forward. "Never have I heard of such a thing!"

"You hear of it now! The shire reeve has given me leave to take as much from you as I will, the better to serve the queen . . ."

"He keeps a share for himself, right?" I hissed to Frisson.

"It is the custom," Frisson acknowledged.

and I have deemed it fit to levy a tax for the village as a whole, due to the shire reeve and the queen! Ten pieces of gold!

Pay!

Pay now what you owe!"

"But we have no more money!" a woman wailed. "All our coins you took long ago!"

Then I will take cattle or pigs, grain or fruit! But you will pay, you will pay, or I will burn this village down!"

The people gasped with horror.

Klout surveyed them, gloating. "You laughed at me when I was a small, clumsy runt of a child! There is not a woman of my own age who did not mock me for an ugly gnome when I was a youth! Well, mock now!

Laugh now! For by the queen, I surely shall!"