"Are you Andфkai the Tempestuous?" he ventured at last.

The maga nodded. "And you need no introduction: Tungdil and his two friends who cheated Nфd'onn's wrath." She pointed to the warrior who was standing motionless beside her like a sculpted god of war. He was five heads taller than her. "This is Djerun, a loyal ally." Boлndal eyed her suspiciously. "What do you want?"

Tungdil took over quickly. "What's happened to Lot-Ionan? Is he alive?"

Andфkai looked at him with angry, tortured eyes. "Lot-Ionan is dead-and so are Maira, Turgur, and Sabora. They're all dead. Nфd'onn didn't want them to interfere with his plans, so he killed them."

Tungdil bowed his head. It hurt to have the truth confirmed. The pain of losing his foster father gnawed away at him, leaving a void inside.

"Our senior famuli met a similar fate. Nфd'onn was careful to ensure that none survived who could challenge his power," she continued grimly.

"Then it was you who cast lightning at him!" Boпndil said excitedly. "I hope you caused more damage than we did."

"He survived. I did everything in my power to kill him, but it was useless. As soon as I saw him recover from your attack, I feared the worst, and I was right; we can't do anything to stop him."

"Wretched long-uns," Boлndal muttered crankily. "We dwarves tear our beards out patrolling the ranges and fighting Tion's hordes, and what do the humans do? Plot their own downfall! Vraccas should have made us into nannies, not warriors. Humans can't be trusted on their own."

"I'm afraid you're probably right." Andфkai took a step toward them. "I came here because I wanted to ask what Nфd'onn was after." She crouched in front of Tungdil. "We were watching from the hillside. You must have something that he covets. What is it?"

"Er, nothing really," he fibbed. "Just a few things that belonged to Lot-Ionan. I kept them to remember him by, but Nфd'onn wanted to destroy them. He and my magus can't have been good friends."

"There was a time when they liked each other well enough." She smiled wryly. "Lot-Ionan wasn't terribly fond of me."

That triggered Tungdil's memory. As far as he could recall, Lot-Ionan had disapproved of her values and her worship of Samusin. If the twins find out that she keeps orcs in her realm, things could turn nasty, and we're bound to come off worse. Not only would the maga attack them with her wizardry, but her companion looked capable of snapping trees with his hands.

"To be honest," said Boпndil, who had decided not to beat around the bush, "I don't much like you either. You go your way, and we'll go ours. We've problems enough of our own."

"Problems?" Andфkai said scornfully. She straightened up. "Your problems won't seem important when Nфd'onn invades. The dwarven kingdoms will fare no better than the realms of men and elves. The magus has allied himself with the Perished Land and together they seek absolute, unlimited power." Her chin jutted out and she eyed Boпndil with a look of contempt. "Run along and hide in your mountains. Tion's creatures will storm your strongholds from both sides."

"What do you propose to do?" asked Tungdil.

"We're leaving," she said frankly. "I'm not foolish enough to think that I could stop the Perished Land. No army will be mighty enough to challenge Nфd'onn, regardless of what the kings of men may think. What good would it do to stay? I'd only be condemned to become a revenant-a fate which, Samusin willing, I'm anxious to escape." She searched the dwarves' faces. "And you? If you're headed for Ogre's Death, we'd like to join you. Rest assured, we'll leave by way of the High Pass and never see you again, but we could journey as friends until then."

The dwarves discussed the matter in private and decided to accept the proposal. Boпndil's objections were overruled: The other two had learned from their encounter with Nфd'onn and could see that the maga would be a useful ally when facing the dangers ahead.

Boпndil made a show of complaining, but fighting with words was not his strong point and Tungdil argued him into a corner with his scholarly speech. "Fine," sulked the secondling, "but don't say I didn't warn you."

Tungdil informed the pair of their decision.

"But remember, we're the ones in charge!" Boпndil glared at the maga's companion contemptuously. He was obviously longing to pit his strength against the colossal warrior. "Hey! What's wrong with your tongue? Maybe if you took that bucket off your head, you'd be able to speak!"

"Djerun is mute," the maga rebuked him sharply. "Remember your manners or I might have a thing or two to say about your height…"

"My manners are my concern," huffed Boпndil, smarting. He tossed his plait over his shoulder and turned back to the warrior. "Take my advice and keep out of my way," he warned, quickening his pace to lead the procession. I deal with the orcs, all right? No doubt you'll learn soon enough."

Tungdil fell into line behind Andфkai, and they set off. I'll wait until this evening to find out more, he decided. It would be easier to ask his questions without the twins listening in.

Estimable Maga, how did Lot-Ionan die?" Andфkai had withdrawn a few paces from the fire and was sitting on her cloak, gazing into the flames. Instead of addressing her in dwarfish, Tungdil deliberately chose the language spoken by junior wizards. He wanted to demonstrate that he was educated and not a simple working dwarf.

It had taken a while for him to summon the courage to sit down beside her and engage her in conversation.

Back propped against a tree, Djerun was positioned nearby. The giant's weapons were arranged neatly on the grass in order of length, easily reachable with either hand. Owing to his visor, it was impossible to tell whether he was dozing.

"Lot-Ionan schooled you well, it seems," she said slowly, eyes still fixed on the flames. "An educated dwarf is a rarity in Girdlegard. Well, dwarves are rare enough." She paused. "I could tell you how your magus died, but the story of Nudin's treachery would only grieve us both."

"I want to know why Nudin changed."

"So do I, Tungdil." Andфkai turned and looked at him bitterly. "I don't suppose we'll ever find out." She recounted what had happened in Porista that night. "Nudin struck out at me without warning. He drew on his magic to deal me a blow that knocked me senseless. I didn't regain consciousness until later." She paused, resting her chin on her hands. "I cut him down with my sword, but he plunged his staff into my chest. After that I was too dazed to register anything but the sounds of the struggle." The maga took a deep breath, stretched out her legs, and looked up at the stars. "They must have fought him all the way. The sound of their screams will be with me forever. As for me, I could feel the blood seeping from my body and there was nothing I could do."

"But you survived."

"Thanks to my bodyguard." She glanced tenderly at the unmoving giant. "Nфd'onn must have forgotten that Djerun had accompanied me to the palace. As soon as the lunatic magus had gone, he broke into the room and treated my wounds. I was too weak to confront the traitor, so Djerun stole a corpse from the morgue, dressed it in my clothes, and left it with the other bodies. We wanted Nфd'onn to think he was safe." She reached for a branch and tossed it into the fire, sending sparks crackling into the night sky. "He is safe," she said dismally.

"And Lot-Ionan? What…"

"By the time Djerun found me, your magus had been turned to stone. Nфd'onn turned him into a statue." A tear of helpless rage trickled down her cheek.

"A statue," whispered the dwarf, drawing closer to the fire. "Isn't there any way to…"

The maga shook her head but said nothing. They sat in silence, their thoughts with the dead. Stars twinkled in the firmament, and long moments passed.