Walking back-to-back, they retraced their steps through the eerily empty passageways, Boпndil leading and Boлndal following and watching his back.

Tungdil sat down on the footstool next to Lot-Ionan's armchair and waited impatiently for the magus to return. For want of anything better to do, he dusted off his garments. All he could think about was what the magus would say when he made his report. He had already decided to start with the most important business-Gorйn's books. There was no reason to believe that Lot-Ionan would divulge their mysterious contents, but Tungdil hoped he would.

Just then he heard someone approaching from the corridor. He knew at once that it couldn't be Boлndal or Boпndil; the soft footsteps belonged to a light, unarmored man.

Tungdil was too bored to pass up an opportunity to amuse himself and, leaving the knapsack and bag of artifacts beside Lot-Ionan's chair, he leaped to his feet and hid behind the door, intending to jump out and scare the unsuspecting famulus. Chuckling silently in anticipation, he peered around the door.

The young man who came into the room had short black hair and was dressed in the malachite robes of Nudin's school. He made straight for Lot-Ionan's papers and set about sorting through his documents with shocking disrespect.

What in the name of Vraccas is he doing? Tungdil watched from his hiding place as the famulus sifted through a stack of notes, thereby solving the mystery of the unusually tidy room. Next he made himself comfortable at the magus's desk and set to work on the higgledy-piggledy documents and books, sorting them into piles and jotting the details on a list.

Tungdil looked on in amazement. Who allowed one of Nudin's pupils to forage through Lot-Ionan's things? What's he doing here anyway? If Lot-Ionan wanted someone to tidy his study for him, he had plenty of likely candidates in his own school, but Tungdil knew that the magus was very particular about his work. The documents that the young man was handling were strictly private and no one was permitted to look at them, least of all an apprentice from another enchanted realm.

Dragging footsteps sounded in the corridor and a second figure appeared at the door. The famulus looked up crossly, not bothering to hide his annoyance. "What is it?"

Tungdil pressed his face to the crack in the door and peered at the newcomer. All he could see was a broad back and a coarsely woven shirt.

"I've finished in the kitchens," said a deep, sluggish voice. The dwarf placed it immediately: It was Eiden, the magus's groom.

"Good. Then find yourself a quiet corner and stay out of my way," came the famulus's sharp reply.

Eiden stayed where he was, filling the doorway like a fleshy statue. "I'm hungry," he said dully.

"Why don't you gnaw on some bones in the kitchens?" the famulus said impatiently. "But remember not to touch the meat-it's for our sentries. Now, leave me in peace."

"I want meat," the man insisted.

"Go!" The famulus picked up a letter opener and hurled it at him. Whether he intended to wound the groom or whether it was a poorly judged throw, he succeeding in striking Eiden in the chest. The man groaned and staggered from the room.

At last the dwarf could see his face, which was ashen and horribly mangled. A club had crushed the right side of his head and his visage looked barely human.

At the sight of his torso Tungdil took a sharp intake of breath. The pale fabric of Eiden's shirt was caked with blood from two deep gashes to his collarbone and chest. The afflicted flesh was decaying, the skin around it yellow.

Tungdil was instantly reminded of Greenglade and its gory revenants. No, he thought, the Perished Land can't have breached the magic girdle. Lot-Ionan had gone to Porista to renew the barrier and preempt an attack, and in any event, the Perished Land's dominion ended 450 miles north of Ionandar's vaults. Then why is Eiden still alive?

A gust swept through the room and a blue shimmer appeared in the air, gradually assuming the contours of a man. It was Nudin the Knowledge-Lusty.

The famulus rose and bowed before the apparition. "I've been searching the school as you requested, Estimable Magus," he reported, straightening up to face the bloated wizard. "There's no sign of the items you mentioned. Goodness knows why the old man needed so many laboratories and libraries." He decided to get his excuses in quickly. "The vaults go on and on. It's a lot for me to manage on my own."

"Which is why I shall be joining you in person."

Tungdil hardly dared to breathe, lest he give himself away. Vraccas seemed intent on making him eavesdrop on all kinds of awkward conversations. He had seen Nudin once before, but he remembered him as being slimmer, healthier, and decidedly less cruel. The Nudin before him was like a caricature, an uncharitable likeness drawn by a detractor.

"Lot-Ionan told me that the items were in a cupboard," the magus continued, swiveling to survey the room. There was something oddly high-pitched about his gravelly voice. "Have you searched the place properly?"

"Not yet," the famulus admitted. "I thought the books were more important, so I decided to hunt for them first."

Nudin shuffled toward the large cabinet from which Tungdil had retrieved the artifacts at the start of his errand. "There's no proof that the books even made it to Ionandar. According to the дlfar, a war band stole the books from Greenglade after the orcs had razed the place. Dwarven bandits, apparently."

"But didn't you tell them to… I mean, how-"

"The дlfar are good allies." Nudin's doppelganger stopped in front of the cabinet and propped his staff against the wall.

It took some effort for his swollen, spectral fingers to depress the handle, but he got there in the end. "Their only weakness is their love of art. For this particular дlf, it proved fatal." Bending down, he reached into the cabinet and came up with a leather bag identical to the one that Tungdil had been carrying. "It looks as though our search has been rewarded."

He loosened the drawstrings and tipped out the contents. Five rolls of parchment tumbled to the floor. His grunts of displeasure seemed to indicate that he had been hoping to find something else.

Tungdil peered out a little farther. His packs were hidden by Lot-Ionan's chair, but he had an uncomfortable feeling that Nudin would be delighted to discover them.

It was then that it dawned on him: The ties on his bag were blue, but the magus had said something about green drawstrings. I took the wrong hag! I marched for miles across Girdlegard, and Gorйn's artifacts were here all the time!

From the point of view of his errand, it wouldn't have made any difference if he had got to Greenglade and found Gorйn alive-he would still have been carrying the wrong set of things. But something told him that his mistake had worked out well.

Tungdil couldn't quite make sense of it all. He had no idea why Nudin and his apprentice were behaving as if the school belonged to them, much less why Eiden was acting so oddly when really he should have been dead, but the fact that the magus had allied himself with the дlfar was clearly bad news. Nudin the Knowledge-Lusty seemed to have changed sides.

He had to find out what had happened to Lot-Ionan and his famuli without alerting the intruders to his presence.

"One more thing," said the apprentice, riffling through the papers on the desk. He pulled out two pieces of parchment that Tungdil recognized as the letters that he had sent. "Lot-Ionan received a couple of letters from someone called Tungdil who was looking for Gorйn on his behalf."

He passed the correspondence to his master, who scanned the lines with bloodshot eyes. "Tungdil…" he said musingly. "Of course! The old man kept a dwarf of that name. It's perfectly possible that he's the one who took the artifacts and the books." He tossed the letters onto the desk. "Traveling dwarves are a rarity in Girdlegard, so it shouldn't be hard to find him. I'll ask the дlfar to deal with it, and they'll deliver him, dead or alive." He nodded to the famulus. "It's a pity you didn't mention it earlier, but at least we're getting somewhere. You shall have your reward when I join you. Until then, keep searching. You never know what might turn up." The apparition flickered and faded, then vanished altogether.