61.patterns for control. In feet, elves taught men how to set the patterns for the wardstones. You'd better not let yourself look at any of the decoration that remains, just in case."

Paks felt herself flush with embarra.s.sment. She said nothing, but followed Macenion deeper into the complex of ruins, her hand on her sword.

Little remained but irregular mounds overgrown with gra.s.s and weeds. Here and there a bit of stone showed through, and a few doorways still stood wreathed in ivy. Although Paks could hear birdsong in the distance, the ruins themselves were quiet. No lizards sunned themselves on the mounds, to scuttle away as they pa.s.sed. No rabbits found shelter in the occasional briar. Macenion moved almost as carefully as Paks could have wished, pausing beside each mound before crossing the next open s.p.a.ce. As they went deeper into the complex, the silence grew more intense. The horses' hooves made no noise on the turf. Paks could not bring herself to speak. The breath caught in her throat, but she could not cough. At last Macenion raised his hand for a halt. When he turned to look at her, his face was paler, she thought, than it had been. He swallowed visibly, then spoke, his voice soft.

"We'll leave the horses here. They won't stray. They have gra.s.s, and there's a fountain ahead. Ill put a spell on them, as well."

Now that the silence had been broken, Paks found she could speak, though it was still an effort. "Have you found the way to what we're looking for?"

"Yes. I think so. Look there-" Macenion pointed out one of the mounds ahead, and Paks saw that under an overgrowth of ivy and flowering briar (flowering? she thought) it was almost intact: a curious round structure with columns on the outside and a bulbous roof. She could see, as well, the fountain that lay before it, a clear pool whose surface rippled as if in a breeze. "I've heard that such a building lay in the center of this place," Macenion went on. "From it, pa.s.sages lead to the vaults below and to other buildings. I m sure that the being we are to help is trapped somewhere below; this is the surest way down.'

62.Paks frowned. "If so, it's surely known to others, as well. To the enemy of that being, for instance. I'd rather not go in by such a public entrance."

"Scaredr Macenion's face twisted in a sneer. He glanced at her sword, then back at her face.

Paks fought back an angry retort. "No," she said quietly. "Not any more scared than you, with your pate face. But you brought a soldier along for a soldier's skills, and I learned in my first campaign that you don't go in the door that the enemy expects. Not if you want to live to have your share of the loot."f Macenion flushed in his turn, and scowled. "Well, that s the only way down that I know how to find. Besides, in my dream, this was shown as the way."

"Did your dream show both of us going in that way?"

"How else?"

"You hadn't thought we might need a rear guardr "What for?"

"What for?" Paks glared at Macenion. "Haven't you any experience? Suppose that whatever-it-is, that evil tiling, has its own way to the surface, it could come after us, and attack from the rear, or trap us underground."

"Oh, I'm sure it wouldn t-couldn't-"

"Like you were sure about the other things? No, Macenion, I'm not going down there without knowing a little more about it. Surely your magrc can show you something, or guard the way behind us.'

Macenion looked thoughtful. "If you insist, I suppose I can think of something. It might be better, after SM-" He burrowed into his tunic, then gave Paks a sharp look. "You can walk around a bit--look for another entrance-"

"I wish you'd quit worrying. I'm not another magician, and I couldn't use anything I might see."rt Macenion drew himself up. "It's a matter of principle.

Paks snorted, but moved away. She decided to take the packs off Star and see if there was anything she might want to take underground. Macenion, she noticed, hadn't thought of that. As she went through their gear, she wondered again what she was doing following such a person. She did not like the thought of going undergrouncf, in a unknown .

63.place against unknown dangers, at all. Especially with someone like Macenion. Perhaps with a squad of the Duke's Company, but a single half-elf? But a scene from her dream recurred: after victorious combat, she was receiving the homage of those who had asked her help-she was given a new weapon, of exquisite workmanship, and a suit of magical armor. Honor-glory-her reputation made as a fighter. She shook her head, driving the vision away. A chance for glory, Stammel had always said, was a chance to be killed unpleasantly. Still-she had left the Company to seek adventure and fame and a chance to fight for such causes as now lay before her. Could she miss the chance? She piled on one side the things she thought would be useful, and made the rest into a small bundle.

"Well need something to light the way," said Macenion suddenly^ "Whatever the elves used may not be working, and I don't want to use magical light until it's needed." He was going through his own pack. "This should do. This oil-these candles-and yes, I can set a spell at our backs that will keep out any trouble-at least give us warning. We probably won't be that long, but I suppose we should take water and some food."

"How about the fountain? Is it safe?"

"I should think so. Try it." Macenion held out his water bottle to Paks. She frowned.

"If it's elvish, you try it first."

"What a brave warrior! Very well, then." Macenion dipped his bottle in the fountain pool. Nothing happened. "You see? Just water."

"Good." Paks, too, filled her water bottle from the fountain pool, then bent to drink directly from it. The water was cold and had a feint mineral tang. Although the water seemed perfectly clear, she could not see the bottom of the pool. Somehow, after drinking, she no longer considered not following Macenion under the ruins.

Macenion led the way through a tangle of ivy into the building. From within, Paks could see that the original domed roof had been pierced by a number of skylights, each with an ornamental molding around it. The interior 64.walls were still covered with inlay of many-colored stones that formed a dazzling array of designs. Hie floor was a mosaic of cool grays and soft greens, rounded pebbles that looked like those in any mountain stream, but chosen carefully to match in size and shape.

"Here it is," said Macenion, pointing to a circle of darker stones laid in the center of the room.

"Whatr Macenion looked smug. "The door-the way in."

"That?"

"Yes." He drew out a short black rod; Paks looked down, more frightened than she cared to admit. Some-tiling sizzled, and she looked quickly at die circle: it was gone. A hole in the floor revealed a spiral stair. Dust lay thick on the stone steps.

Paks took a deep breath. "Do you think we're the first to come this way? The first to be asked for help?"

"I don't know. Probably not. Only a magician could find this way down, you know. Perhaps others couldn't find a way to help and went away. You stay here a moment, while I take a quick look down." Macenion set a careful foot on the first step. Nothing happened. He went down several more, bending to look beneath the floor. Pafo looked out the way they had come in, half expecting some monster to appear on their trail, but there was nothing. As she watched, Macenton's horse moved past die opening to drink at the fountain; she heard it sucking the water up. When she looked back at the hole in the floor, Macenion was coming back up. "Just below, the ceiling's much higher, we won't have any problem. And I don't see that any-thing's disturbed the dust. The only thing is, the stair is only one person wide-"

Paks suppressed a last shudder of doubt about the wisdom of this whole project, and grinned at him. "I suppose you'd like the fighter to go in front, eh? Well, I can't see behind myself; I'd just as soon know who's at my back." She drew her sword as she spoke. "But 111 have this out, just in case. What about tight? Must I carry a candle or torch?"

65."No-o-" said Macenion, climbing out of her way onto die floor. "There's light."

]AVhat sort of light?"

/'I'm not sure. It may be the same the elves used. But it's easily light enough to see."

"What if it goes out? You'd best keep some sort of flame alight, Macenion."

Why should it go out if it's lasted this long? Oh, all right-' he answered her look of disgust. "But you're so suspicious."

MI'm alive," said Paks, "and I intend to stay that way."

"As a fighter, an adventurer?"

"Some do," said Paks, starting down the stairs. "And from what I hear, those that do stay suspicious. Magicians, too."

The stair dropped steeply, and curved to the right, back under die floor. Paks found that she did not have to duck at all; when she thought about it, she remembered that elves were, in general, taller than humans. Light filled the stairwell as far as she could see, a gentle, white light with no apparent source. She looked back once, to see the deep scuffing footprints she had made in the dust. Macenion was just in sight, several steps higher. After what she judged was die first half-turn, the steps were not so steep. She could move more easily now, and, of course, anything coming up could do so as well. She glanced back again, for Macenion, and thought of the spefl he had promised to put at their backs.

"What did you do up there?" she asked softly, nodding upward.

"It's open," he said. "If I'd closed it, and anything happened to me, you couldn't get out that way. But I put a spell on the opening that should repel anything from outside trying to get in. And just in case, I put another spell on it to give us an alarm if something does go through."

All that sounded impressive to Paksenarrion. She hoped it would work. "Do you know how far this goes down?'

"No. It should open into a wide hall at die bottom, though."

66.Paks went on. The mysterious light bothered her. The silence bothered her. She felt her hand grow sweaty on her sword hilt, and that bothered her. Nothing had happened; no danger appeared, and yet her breath came short, just as if she were a recruit in her first battle. She concentrated on the construction of the stair: pale gray stone underfoot, and slightly darker gray stone on the walls and vaulted ceiling. The stair treads were ribbed, under the dust, and when she reached to feel the walls, she found that they were lightly incised with an intricate design. Remembering Macenion's warning, she took her fingers off the wall. She looked back over her shoulder again. Macenion, too, had one hand on the wall; when he met her eyes he smiled at her.

"It's decoration and information both," he said. "I can read some of it, though I'd have to stand here a long time to figure it out. But for those who lived here, it would be a way of telling how far they had come, though that's not what it says, exactly." He moved his hand along the section of wall nearest him. "This, for example, is part of an old song: The Long Ride of Torre.' Do you know it?"

Paks nodded. "If that's the same Torre as Torre's Necklace."

"Of course. Do you know the story?"

"Yes." Paks turned again and kept stepping down. The dust seemed no thicker, and with no changes in light or silence, she had a hard time figuring out how for they had come. At last she saw an opening ahead, rather man a curving wall. As she came to the last step, and waited for Macenion to close in behind her, she could see a s.p.a.ce of dusty stone paving, and nothing else. Although it was light beyond the opening, any walls were too far away to show.

"Now this, I believe, was the winterhall," said Macenion, peering past her. "Go on, Paksenarrion."

"And have whatever's waiting beside the door take my head off? Let's be careful." Paks unslung her small shield and reached for Macenion's walking staff.

He jerked it away. "What?"

Paks sighed. "Remember what I just said about doorways? Better a piece of wood than my neck."

67."Oh, all right." Macenion handed over his staff grumpily. Paks tied the shield quickly to one end, and stuck it through the door. Nothing happened. She pulled it back, handed Macenion his staff, tightened the shield on her arm, and slipped quickly through the doorway, putting her back to the wall beside it.

She was in a large bare hall, lit by the same mysterious means as the stair. It stretched away on either side of the doorway she'd come through for twice the distance of its width. No furniture remained, and dust covered the broad floor. Macenion came through after her, and looked up. Pafcs followed his gaze. Far overhead the arched ceiling was formed into intricate branches and vaults, a tracery of stone such as Pales had never seen. Between ribs of dark stone, patterns of smaller colored ones gave almost the effect of a forest overhead.

"That's-beautiful-" she whispered, hardly aware of speaking.

t For once, Macenion did not take a superior tone. "It's- I've never seen the like myself. I knew this was once the seat of the High King, but I never imagined-" He took a few steps out into the hall, and looked at his footprints. "Certainly this has not been disturbed for many years- perhaps not since they left."

Paks had noticed, at the right end of the hall, a darker alcove. "What's that?"

"That should lead to other pa.s.sages. But I can't understand why there are no signs at all." Macenion stopped and shook his head. "We won't find out anything by standing here. Let me think-"

Paks scanned the walls again. At the left end of the hall was a dais, four steps up from the main level, and at the back of it an arched doorway. Two heavily patterned bronze doors closed the opening. Across from her, on the other long wall, were four doorways, also closed with heavy doors. At the right end, no doors showed save the alcove, if that was, as Macenion said, an opening.

"Do you know where any of these doors lead?" she asked.

"The door on the dais leads to the royal apartments. The 68.others-no, blast it, I can't remember. We'll have to look and see."

"Would the doors be locked?"

"I doubt it. They may be spelled, though. Luckily I have ways of handling that. Perhaps we should start with the royal apartments. We might find something worthwhile there."

Paks felt a twinge. "We're here to help that trapped thing, first. I don't think treasure hunters would be lucky here."

"I was thinking we might find something that would help us free the spirit, Paksenarrion. It wasn't just greed."

Paks was not convinced. She turned from one side to the other, trying to feel which way to go. Was that a pull toward the right end? Or the door directly across from her? And if it was, did it come from the one they wanted to help or from the enemy? She shook her head, as if to clear it, and watched Macenion approach the royal doors. A feeling of wrongness grew stronger. He reached the foot of the dais.

"Macenion! No!" She surprised herself as much as him with her shout.

He whirled to face her. "What?"

"Don't go that way." She was utterly certain of danger. She moved quickly to his side, and lowered her voice. "That's wrong; I'm sure of it. If you go up there, well-"

"Paksenarrion, you're no seer. I a.s.sure you that we may very well find, in the royal apartments, clues to what sort of spirit may be locked here. We'll certainly find information about the layout of the underground pa.s.sages."

"That may be, but if you open that door, Macenion, you'll wish you hadn't."

He looked at her closely. "Have you had some sort of message? From a-a G.o.d, or something like that?"

"I don't know. But I know you shouldn't go that way. And I may not be a seer, Macenion, but I have had warning feelings before, and they've been true."

"A fighter?" He arched his brows.

"Yes, a fighter! By the G.o.ds, Macenion, carrying a sword .

69.in my hand doesn't mean I don't carry sense between my ears. If a warning comes, I heed it."

"I wish you'd told me before about your extra abilities. It comes hard to believe in them now, when I've never seen them." He gave her a superior smile. "Very well, then . . . since you're so sure. We'll wander about down here with no other guidance than your intuition. Perhaps you're turning into a paladin or something."

Paks glared at him, angry enough to strike, but relieved that he had turned away from the dais. Macenion looked around the hall.

"Which door would you suggest, since you don't like my choice?"

"What about that alcove?" asked Paks. "Or the center doors on the long side there?"

Macenion shrugged. "It doesn't matter to me. Why not the alcove? It's as far as possible from those you rear." Paks flushed but held her peace as they walked the length of the hall.

The alcove was deeper than it looked; the light was deceptive. Within it were two doors, both bronze. One had a design on it that reminded Paks of a tree; the other was covered with interlacement bands that enclosed many-pointed stars. Macenion looked at her. "Do you have any feelings about either of these? My own preference would be for the stars; stars are sacred to elves."

Paks felt, in feet, a stubborn desire to use the door with the tree, but she felt no special menace from the other one. With Macenion grinning at her in such a smug way, she didn't want to press a mere preference. "That will do. I don't have anything against it, anyway." When Macenion simply stood there, she asked sharply, "Aren't you going to open it?"

"As soon as I figure out how. It's locked, spell-locked-if you laid a hand on it, you'd be flat on your back. I'm surprised your intuition didn't tell you that."

Paks wondered herself, and thought that if her intuition worked on bigger things, they'd better pay attention to it. She said nothing, however, and as Macenion stood in 70.apparent thought, she turned to keep watch on the rest of the room.

When she looked the length of the room toward the dais, she thought she saw a feint glow around the doors there. She looked at the other doors in the room. They looked the same. When she looked back at the dais, the glow was more definite. It had an irregular shape, and seemed to be coming from the joint between the doors-as if it were seeping through.

"Macenion!"

"What now?!" He turned to her angrily. Paks pointed toward the dais. "I don't see-by the G.o.ds! What's that?"

"I don't know. I don't like it. Did you step up on the dais?"

"No. You yelled, and I-I may just have touched the lower step with my foot-"

"I hope not. It's brighter, now."

"So I see. I wonder if it's-by Orphin, I'd better get this spell correct."

"What is it?"

"Not now! Just watch. Tell me if it gets more than halfway down the hall."

"But what can I do to hold it back?"