He could feel the mist pushing through every vessel in his body, pounding his flesh, foraging in his guts, torturing his manhood, and never pausing for a moment on its agonizing path.

Then at once the suffering was over.

Nudin lay on the cold marble floor, struggling to regain his breath. Slowly, his dazed senses cleared, and his thoughts and perceptions became extraordinarily acute.

He clambered to his feet. Blood was caked to his skin and the smell of excrement clung to his robes. Repelled by the filth, he hurried along the corridors and stood beneath a fountain to wash away the dirt. The cold water revived his spirits, leaving him refreshed and alert.

And now for a test… He tried to recall the spells he had heard. The words and gestures returned to him effortlessly, but more remarkably, he knew their purpose and the correct inflection of every syllable: It was all imprinted on his mind.

Strictly speaking, it wasn't his mind that was furnishing the information, but he brushed that thought aside.

With a rush of exhilaration he thought of all the wonders he had seen, and at once they returned to him, only this time he could hear, taste, and smell them. The beautiful meadow had its own distinctive aroma, which he recognized instantly. He remembered the melodies sung by the birds, and he knew that Pajula, for that was the name of the spot, was located beyond the mountains of his homeland in a place that no one in Girdlegard had heard of, let alone mapped.

Chuckling delightedly, he let the water splash over his skin.

Well, are you satisfied? asked a voice inside his head. Have I kept my side of the bargain?

"Yes," he said aloud, then corrected himself. Yes, your knowledge is everything you promised it would be. He decided on a further test. I want you to leave.

At once he felt an unpleasant burning sensation, then a sudden chill and a feeling of abject loneliness and abandonment. The mist was preparing to depart. Nudin shuddered at the thought of experiencing such agony a second time.

Stop! he commanded. You can stay. I wanted to be sure I could trust you to go.

I entrusted you with my knowledge and memory; you have to trust me. We two are one.

"We two are one," the magus murmured. He clambered out of the fountain to look for a mirror. There was nothing peculiar about his reflection: He looked the same as before, although the shirt he took from his wardrobe seemed tighter than usual and the sleeves were a little too short.

The soul of the Perished Land shared his satisfaction. I chose well, it whispered. You needn't feel ashamed. You're not a traitor.

So you can read my thoughts? Nudin felt embarrassed that his doubts had been detected.

We are one.

Then I should be able to read yours.

Patience! Such things take practice, and practice you shall have. For now our pact must remain a secret. Buy me some time and say nothing to the other magi until I am ready to be a mother to these lands. Begin your preparations, but work alone and be sure not to arouse their suspicions. They will accuse you of treachery, Nudin the All-Knowing, but you're not a traitor; you're my friend-my one and only loyal friend. The whisper faded and the magus was alone.

He strolled to the window and looked out. Sunrise was only a few hours away, but Porista was still slumbering. He turned his back to it and scanned the rows of books that lined his room.

All these folios, encyclopedias, and grimoires contained only a fraction of the knowledge that was stored in his head. It gave him a feeling of contentment, infinite wisdom, and completeness. No sooner had a thought occurred to him than he knew everything there was to know on the matter. He could sate his lust for knowledge without the help of study, travel, experiments, or books.

A moment later he felt bored: Everything he yearned for was already accomplished. Saving Girdlegard is the last remaining challenge and nothing and no one can take it from me.

Nudin drew up a plan of action and devoted himself to his task. It seemed wrong to leave the responsibility of saving Girdlegard to his knowledgeable friend. He could picture the terrible threat bearing down on his homeland, ready to sweep over the high mountains and take Girdlegard by storm, and he knew that it was up to him to stop it.

There was no doubt that his new knowledge was useful, but incantations and formulae weren't enough. In order to apply the magic, he needed power-more power.

He had already devised a way of acquiring it, channeling it, and making it his own. When the magi next gathered in Porista to renew the girdle, he would harness their magic energies and present his colleagues with a choice: Join him-or get out of his way.

Every waking moment was devoted to his plan. He ensconced himself in his laboratory and selected a few of his most loyal famuli to assist him; when the time was right, they would help him with whatever he had to do.

Дlfar emissaries took to visiting him in secret, bringing intelligence gathered in the mountains of Urgon, the plains of Gauragar, and the highlands of Idoslane. His scouts informed him that the orcs in Tilogorn's kingdom were prepared to fight on his behalf.

Nudin's greatest fear was betrayal. Resistance was not to be tolerated: Anyone who challenged him was a threat to Girdlegard and a traitor to the cause. Dissenters were crushed.

Sometimes, in rare moments of doubt, he wondered whether he was in charge of his actions or whether the spirit inside him was governing his will.

His misgivings soon disappeared, vanishing as mysteriously and abruptly as they had come. Every now and then his friend would speak to him and offer his advice, rounding out his plan with helpful suggestions and ideas.

We are one, he thought gratefully. Together we will save the race of men.

And yet your cause has been betrayed.

How so?

One of your apprentices, Heltor, talked to a man by the name of Gorйn, a former famulus of Lot-Ionan's. Our friends heard them talking at the doors of the palace when the council was in session. He thinks he knows our secret and how we can be sundered.

Nudin was aghast. Sundered? That's impossible. I can't allow it!

Listen to me, Nфd'onn. Gorйn won't be working alone. Lot-Ionan gave him books that tell of our pact. They're jealous of your knowledge and power. Don't let them tear us apart. We are one!

Nudin decided to have Gorйn killed. The дlfar will deal with him. They'll bring back the books and have the famulus punished.

If you kill Gorйn, the others will be suspicious. You'll have to kill them all.

No, I'll reason with them. They're bound to understand if I explain it to them, as you explained it to me. Just think what we could achieve with the power of six magi. We'll be able to advance on different fronts and our friends will be grateful for the speedy victory.

The spirit doubted the wisdom of the scheme but said nothing to oppose it, fearing that a disagreement might alienate the magus. I'm afraid you'll be disappointed, my one and only friend.

"I hope not," Nudin said softly. He turned his attention to a book whose contents he knew by heart: There was nothing in his library that wasn't present inside his head.

A drop of blood fell onto the open page, obscuring four characters so that the word became unreadable. Blood seeped from his nose and his eyes, slowly at first, then faster and faster until it became a constant stream.

Nфd'onn knew what lay in store. He rose quickly and hurried to his bed. His bones creaked, his head throbbed, his brain hissed, and his skin stretched painfully as he suddenly gained another few inches in height.

He screamed, cried, bit his lips until they bled, and thrashed about so violently that he fell out of bed and blacked out.