This was Ordrune's laboratory, his alchemistry, his arcane athenaeum. This was his lair. This was his den. This was the heart of the Wizardholt.

Egil clenched his fist and shook his head to clear it of these memories, all but one. "I think I have even seen the chest wherein the scroll is kept." Egil turned to Burel. "It is large-" Egil held his hands wide apart-"and bound with iron, and three heavy locks hold shut its hasps."

Burel turned up a hand. "Perhaps. But my mother never described it other than as a chest my sire discovered unlatched one fateful day."

Egil made a negating gesture. "Regardless, Burel, it is to Ordrune's strongholt we need go to find the way to the green stone as well as take our vengeance upon the Mage."

Burel clenched a fist and nodded, but Arin said, "Nay, Egil, vengeance must wait, for the finding of the stone takes precedence o'er all."

"But he is responsible for the death of my father," objected Burel.

"And the torturous slaughter of forty good men," added Egil.

Arin shook her head. "Nevertheless, ye two, stopping the slaughter of a world is of more import than exacting retribution against a single evildoer. Our need is to gain the scroll, and then the green stone. And to that end thy vengeance must wait."

Alos shuddered and said, "This is insane. We cannot hope to steal from a Mage. He will send a demon after each of us, just as he did against Burel's father. Count me out. I'll not take part in such madness."

Aiko stared impassively at the oldster. "As I said before, Alos, whatever lives can be slain."

Alos shook his head. "Maybe so. But we don't even know where the Mage's tower is. And Kistan is an enormous isle-eight, nine hundred miles across in any direction you'd care to go, and all of it jungle. And it's filled with pirates. We'll be forever-you'll be forever finding the Wizard's stronghold if the Rovers don't kill you first. Besides, his chest is locked, probably warded with magic, too."

Ferret said, "As to the locks, I have yet to see one I could not open."

Delon looked at her in surprise.

"My father was a locksmith," she said by way of explanation. "And an escape artist in the cirque, as was I."

"Ah, then perhaps that's why you are needed on this venture, luv," said Delon. "To open the Mage's locked chest when Egil One-Eye leads us to it."

Egil shook his head. "Even though I can lead you to the chest, I cannot lead us to the tower, for I know not where it lies. And Alos is right: Kistan is a great isle, as the charts we bought in Aban show." Egil glanced at Burel. "Did your father say where Ordrune's strongholt lies?"

Burel grunted. "All I know is the name of the place where my sire signed on to Ordrune's ship in Kistan, though whether or no it's where lies the Wizard's stronghold, I cannot say. But the ship sailed out from Yilan Koy, or so my mother said."

"Yilan Koy?" asked Delon. "Is that a town?"

Burel shrugged. "My mother did not know."

Egil sighed. "Well, at least it's a place to start."

"Fools," hissed Alos. "You are all harebrained fools."

After the sounding of the demon horn at dusk, both Arin and Delon sang at the evensong service, Arin's hymn a paean to Elwydd, Delon's an invocation to Elwydd's father, Adon, asking that He protect this refuge from all harm.

Later that night from the open red stone of the basin there echoed the skirl and clang of steel upon steel as by lanternlight Aiko drilled Burel at blades.

Over the next two days, Arin and her companions prepared for the return to the port of Aban. In a storeroom, Mayam found the saddle from the camel that had borne Ya sidi Ulry to the Temple of the Labyrinth so long ago, and she gave it over to Arin, who fitted it to one of the camels for Burel to use. And when he wasn't training with Aiko, Burel prepared as well, for so the rede required: Take these with thee, no more, no less…

Too, Burel needed time to say his good-byes, for not all the acolytes of Ilsitt had sworn vows of celibacy, and they spent the nights visiting him one last time.

During these same two days, Delon and Ferai took long walks together around the steep-walled basin, talking, laughing, singing, sharing: Ferai told him of her early life, up to the time of her rape, but no more; and Delon spoke of his own childhood, living in the fringes of the Alna-wood at the wall of the Gunarring. And these two often met Egil and Arin coming the other way, the Dylvana and Fjordlander laughing and sharing as well.

Alos discovered that the women of Ilsitt had a small store of medicinal brandy, and he wheedled and begged until they gave him a tot just to shut him up. But that was all, no matter his appeals, and he was left with but an empty glass and a terrible thirst.

On the morning of the twenty-seventh of November, seven of the grumbling camels were saddled for riders, while the remaining five were laden with supplies for the trip.

Arin and her companions bade farewell to the followers of Ilsitt, and the women wept to see Burel go, for he had been among them all his life and many now looked upon him as a brother or son, while to others he had been a lover ere they had taken their final priestess vows, while to a few he was their lover still. And these latter acolytes stopped him for one last kiss, and then fell into one another's arms, sobbing, as in breastplate and helm and with his sword on his shoulder he led the procession to the dark way beyond the portcullis.

Into the corridor under the towering canyon wall they went, Burel pulling his mount, a second camel in tow, Aiko coming after, the Ryodoan leading two camels as well, then Alos with two, and then Ferret with one followed by Delon with two, and Egil drawing two behind him, Arin trailing with her animal last.

Into the narrow way they went, the camels hronging in dismay at the tight confines, being drawn through an eye of a needle, or so Ferret had said. In the lead, Burel came to the sharp turn leftward, and then the rightward turn,

Aiko coming slowly after, following his ill-tempered beasts, dragging her own surly animals behind.

And as Burel stepped out into the canyon beyond, Aiko shouted, "Ware!" for the unremitting peril her tiger had sensed since reaching the maze suddenly exploded.

And a stride or two past where stood Burel, the demon stepped out from the face of solid crimson stone and hissed at the man, "At last. By the blood of your father, I knew you would come forth some day." And as if flexing long dormant muscles, with a ripping upward slash of its great, jagged, obsidian sword, the demon clove through the camel's neck, the sundered head flying up and away as the corpse of the beast collapsed in the entry, blood gushing from the cloven stump.

In the tunnel, camels bellowed in fear, their cries of panic blaring as they wrenched and jerked back and away from the reek of blood and the stench of the demon, their feet drumming in terror as they lashed and thudded side to side and tried to turn and flee in the restricted confines of the narrow passage, heedless of the people trapped within.

And outside, Burel hefted his great sword and faced the monstrous foe, the angular creature some eight feet tall and shiny black, its entire being covered with a hard bony layer-smooth, chitinous panes. It was cloven hoofed, and where a knee should be was a joint bending backwards at an angle, and somewhat above that one bent another, this joint flexing forward. Narrow shoulders topped a plated torso, and its head was elongated with fang-filled jaws protruding forward, and its eyes were glaring and wide-set. Angular arms dangled down, ending in long bony grasping fingers, and it clutched a great, jagged, ebon sword half again as long as the one in Burel's hands.