She drew him to her, folding her long arms around his compact, muscled body. 'You don't have to justify yourself to me,' she said softly.

'But I do have to live with it. Ah, Irisis, how I've missed you.'

'Do you want to tell me the rest of the story?'

'Maybe later. Where are we, anyway?'

'Heading up the western side of Meldorin Island.'

'Meldorin!' he cried, looking over the side as if to see lyrinx everywhere. 'Where are we going?'

'No idea. Bloody Flydd is acting all mysterious, as usual.'

The sun went down into the ocean to their left, and the evening light faded swiftly, though before it grew completely dark they beheld the walls of a great fortress in the distance. Black it was, even blacker than the shadowy forest that surrounded it, a forbidding wall of stone encircling a yard, and an inner fortress with horned towers.

'Is that our destination?' Nish asked Flydd, who was walking by.

'It is.' Flydd cast him an unreadable glance. 'Dragged yourself out of bed at last, I see.'

Nish didn't rise to the bait. He was used to Flydd's ways by now, and the tone had been almost affectionate. 'It's not a lyrinx fortress?'

'It belongs to an older power.' Flydd continued down to Inouye. 'Go over the outer wall, Inouye, and come down in the yard by the horned tower. See it there?'

'I see it.' Her voice was like a single page falling to the ground.

The air-floater passed over the wall. No guards could be seen, so Inouye settled the machine in the bleak yard. It came to rest without a bump. The rotor slowly spun down, the floater-gas generator fell silent.

Again that shiver up Irisis's spine.

'I don't like this place. Where are we?'

'We're in the one place in Meldorin that the scrutators will never find us. Not even the lyrinx dare come here. This is the ancient Aachim fortress of Fiz Gorge.'

Somewhere within the fortress an alarm clanged, like a broken bell.

Forty-five.

'Fiz Gorgo!' cried Nish. 'Wasn't that the fortress of the great mancer Yggur, back in the time of the Tale of the Mirror?'

'It was,' said Flydd, and Irisis could hear him cracking his knuckles anxiously.

'Who controls it now?'

'We're about to find out. Climb up on top of the cabin, Nish, and tear open that patch on the airbag.'

'What?' he cried.

'Just do it, and be quick; Flydd hissed, 'or the enemy will breakfast on your kidneys.'

Irisis wondered if the scrutator had gone mad. So, evidently, did Nish, but he did what he was told, then sprang down again. Floater gas sighed from the gash and slowly the balloon sagged until, in a few minutes, the structure of its wire ribs could be seen. Gravel crunched under the keel as the cabin tilted onto its side.

Nish began to climb over the rail. 'Stay where you are,' Flydd said quietly.

They waited. All was silent. No bird sang, no cricket chirped. Not a single leaf rustled.

Irisis's nape prickled. 'Someone's watching us,' she said under her breath, without knowing how she knew it.

'Be quiet.'

Her eyes were drawn up the tower, all the way to the horns on each extremity. No, not there. She followed the rough stone down to a point a little more than halfway from the ground. A balcony projected straight out, a shaped slab of stone without roof or rail. Someone stood there, or something, but she could not see what it was.

A lamp or glowing globe on the wall came on, outlining the figure from behind. It was very tall, and man-shaped, but concealed by a greatcoat that swept to the floor. The figure stepped to the edge.

'Begone, whoever you are, back to where you came from. Visitors are not welcome here.' It was human, a man with a mellow, carrying voice that bore more than an underlying hint of steel. This man was master and no argument, Irisis sensed, would sway him.

'I am Xervish Flydd, surr,' the scrutator called up, respectfully. 'Scrutator for Einunar -'

'Then you've a long journey home, Scrutator Flydd. Begin it at once. You are not welcome in Fiz Gorgo.'

'I would, surr, but as you can see, our air-floater floats no more and cannot be repaired today. I beg your indulgence until the morning.'

The man shifted his weight. 'I am bereft of indulgence and every other form of human weakness,' he said coldly. 'Take your abominable machine and begone!'

'It can't be moved, surr, within twenty-four hours. We'll go if we must, but the machine must stay where it lies. If you would care to inspect it. . .'

The figure whirled, the light went out and a door slammed.

'Don't say a word, unless he speaks directly to you,' Flydd said over his shoulder. 'If he does, confine your answers to yes or no. Venture no explanations.'

Before them, up a few steps from the base of the tower, stood a set of doors so vast that the cabin of the air-floater could have fitted between. The doors opened silently and a blinding light shone through them, revealing that the yard was paved in black stone. There was no living thing in sight. Not a single weed grew inside the walls.

The man appeared, greatcoat flapping. Illuminated from behind, he looked twice the size of any normal man. He strode through the door and came down the broad steps to the air-floater.

'Get out!'

They scrambled over the side, to congregate at the base of the steps. As he turned to inspect the machine, the light fell full on him. He was no giant, but tall and well proportioned -broad in the chest, slim hipped and with long, muscular legs. He had a long, weathered face, frost-grey eyes and dark hair, worn long, that was streaked with silver at the temples. He wore a grey shirt, grey trousers and pale grey boots. His greatcoat was as black as the flagstones.

Climbing onto the sloping deck, he inspected the structure, the controller, the torn airbag and, last of all, the floater-gas generator. As he climbed down, Irisis noted that he moved stiffly, as if an old injury troubled him.

'Very well,' he said. 'You may stay until the morning. At first light you will repair your contraption and remove yourselves.' He went up the steps, turning before he went through the entrance. 'Bring that device to me.' He pointed to the floater-gas generator.

'At once,' said Flydd, motioning to Irisis and Flangers. 'Would you like to see the controller too?'

'I am familiar with its type,' said the man, and disappeared through the doorway.

They gathered their gear. 'You'd better bring the contents of the larder,' said Flydd. 'He doesn't seem a very hospitable fellow.'

Muss collected the food, including the great haunch of venison. Nish and Flangers carried the floater-gas generator, and little Inouye came behind with her controller. It was her lover, her friend, her family, and the bond with it was the only thing that kept her going.

Irisis picked up her bag and followed. Fiz Gorgo was a grim place, strongly built but undecorated. There were no tapestries on the walls, no rugs in the hall. What furniture it had was of the plainest construction. The hall was high and wide, the rooms large, square and barren of ornament save for time-worn patterns etched into the stone. And it was quite as cold as the manufactory where she had spent her working life.

Halfway down the long hall, the man stood by an open door. 'You may stay here. There is a stove. Water may be drawn from the small cistern out by your infernal contraption. Good evening!' He nodded formally.

They filed past, Irisis last, which gave her the chance to gain a better look at the fellow. He appeared to be in hale middle age.

He caught her gaze and turned, inspecting her from head to toe. Irisis was a tall woman but he was almost a head taller. She looked him boldly in the eye as she went past and knew that his gaze lingered. There was a strange, almost wistful look in his eye. Then he was gone.

Flydd chuckled. 'You'll do no good with that one.'

'I have no intention of doing good, as you so charmingly put it.' she said frostily.

'Who is he?' said Muss, who had been silent for a long time.

'Oh, come now,' said Flydd. 'You're telling me that you, my best spy, don't know?'

Muss looked vexed. 'I've not done any work across the sea.'

'Surely you know your Histories, man?'

'But. . .'

Nish spoke from behind. 'He, surely, is Lord Yggur, a great mancer who comes into several tales, including the Tale of the Mirror. I thought he was dead long ago.'

'So did everyone,' said Flydd. 'He disappeared at the end of that tale, some two hundred years ago, and has not been seen since. Everyone thought he was dead. Well, almost everyone.'

'Why did he come back to this miserable place?' said Irisis. 'He might have dwelt anywhere on Santhenar.'

'I dare say he likes it here,' Flydd remarked. 'But who knows where he has been? For all we know he could have travelled seven times around the known world, and the unknown. In his day, he had the best -'

'A day long past,' said Nish. 'As I recall it, his courage failed him in the Tale of the Mirror.'

'I'd watch my tongue if I were you,' Flydd said coldly. 'He may be listening to our every word. Besides, he was a great man once, and deserves your respect.'

Nish glanced around uncomfortably.

Irisis packed kindling into the stove, shrugging Fiz Gorgo and Lord Yggur away. 'I've been looking forward to this dinner for a long time.'

She had been thinking and dreaming about food for weeks. Among her many skills Irisis was a brilliant cook, and in times past she'd cooked for herself, and friends, when she could no longer bear the muck provided by the manufactory. Since leaving there last spring she'd had few meals worth thinking about, and most of those had been with Flydd in Gospett. In the past month the food had been horrible, and there had been little enough of it. In Jibstorn she had spent a fortune buying the best of everything. Tonight was going to be a meal to remember.

'How much longer are you planning to torment us?' said Nish, several hours later. The smells arising from the stove were glorious. Even Flangers, deeply withdrawn since she'd forced him to remit his life to her, had a gleam in his eye.

Irisis smiled inwardly. Food always served, if there'd been lack of it for long enough. 'Not long now. Why don't you set up the trestle?'

By the time that was done, dinner was ready. She gave one of her sauces a gentle stir. A shadow drifted down the hall, hesitated for a second outside the door, then went on. A minute later it came past again, glanced across to the stove and continued. Irisis pretended not to notice.

She served up the platters, and no one seemed to notice that an extra one contained some of the choicest portions. While everyone was sitting down, she took up the platter and slipped out the door. Irisis could not have said why, only that she was curious about the master of Fiz Gorgo.

It did not take long to find him, for Yggur sat at a big table in a room at the far end of the hall. He was reading and did not look up as she approached. The floater-gas generator sat on the table beside him, in pieces. There was a faint smell of liquorice in the air, and several slices of peeled root on a dish.

Irisis stood in front of the table, feeling more than a little foolish.

'What do you want?' he growled, still with his head in the book.

'I thought you might be hungry, Lord Yggur.'

At the sound of her voice his head snapped up and the book fell shut. 'Ah, the artisan,' he said. 'I am no lord, and outside this place I don't go by the name Yggur. The past is dead and I prefer it to stay that way.'

'You called me artisan. How do you know me, surr?'

'"He may be listening to our every word,"' he quoted. 'I know everything that goes on in my own realm. I presume your scrutator has sent you to cozen me?'

Irisis blushed, which she found embarrassing. 'Since you've overheard everything we said, surr, you would know I'm going against his direct orders. It's just that, well, you were so kind as to provide us with a roof for the night, and I wished to repay you in what small way I could.'

His lips twitched and Irisis felt as though he could read her mind, the bad as well as the good. In truth, she had no idea why she had done it, though it was not attraction to Yggur. She'd chosen her man and had no interest in any other.

'Very well. Put it on the table. Your own dinner will be getting cold.'

She bowed and turned to the door, feeling his eyes boring into her back and resisting the urge to run away. A disturbing man. And then, sitting down at the trestle with the others, she ate the entire glorious meal without tasting a thing.

They slept the sleep of the truly exhausted that night, and not even Flydd noticed when Yggur slipped into their chamber in the pre-dawn hours. Conjuring ghost light with his fingers, he inspected each in turn. His gaze lingered longest on three: the scrutator, Nish and Irisis. As he turned to go, Yggur almost stumbled over the little pilot, who lay by herself in her sleeping pouch, tossing and groaning. Bending down, he placed the glowing light to her temples, left and right. She rolled over onto her side and slept soundly, and Yggur withdrew.

They went to the machine at dawn and began to repair the tear in the airbag. 'Work slowly,' said Flydd. 'We don't want to leave today.'

Though they dawdled as much as they reasonably could, the airbag was repaired before midday. Inouye installed her controller and Flydd sent Nish to find Yggur and recover the floater-gas generator.

Nish went to the room at the end of the corridor where Yggur sat at the table, writing. The reassembled generator was at his right hand.

'Take it,' said Yggur, his nib looping across the page.

Nish reached out, rather gingerly, and lifted the heavy generator in both hands.

As he turned to go Yggur said, 'You are Cryl-Nish Hlar, weapons artificer, son of Jal-Nish Hlar. Your life is now at a crossroads. Women have been your weakness and you believe that lack of courage is mine.'

Nish flushed. 'I'm sorry, surr. Last night I was tired and hungry and afraid. Sometimes I speak without thinking.'

'Honest, at least,' Yggur said grudgingly. 'Put the generator down for a moment. Cryl-Nish, why have you come here?'

Nish sat it on the table and rubbed his aching arms. 'Scrutator Flydd brought us, surr. I don't know his reasons, though he's looking for help and can't find it anywhere else.'

'Not surprising, since he's a renegade who has been cast out and condemned.'

'The scrutators are fools, surr, who cannot -'