"And if he has it for his own evil reasons," added Sepwin, "then you wouldn't want to make him suspicious."

"You're not going to try to get it back, are you?" she asked, looking from Cray's face to Sepwin's.

"You would have to find some way to violate the spell around his castle to do that, and that would be a terrible insult to him. There is a spell around his castle ... ?"

"Yes," said Gildrum. "He knows that much sorcery."

"Then I ask you not to take on this quest of yours. I don't want the soul. You would be gaining his enmity for no purpose."

"The enmity of such a man amounts to very little," said Gildrum.

"He dislikes you enough, Cray," said Aliza. "Don't give him another reason."

"I care nothing for his likes or dislikes," Cray told her. "But for your sake, I would not incur his anger.

He is capable of anger, is he not?"

"Oh, yes. How else do you think I know what it is?"

"Very well, then. I respect your wishes."

"Then I shall respect yours." Touching the jewel, she spoke Regneniel's name softly.

"I have a farewell gift for you," Cray said.

"Not another gift-you've given me too many already."

"One can never give too many gifts." He held his hand out, palm up. It was empty, but only for a moment. From his sleeve crawled a spider no larger than a lentil, a short-legged brown mite marked by transverse white stripes.

Aliza smiled slightly. "Ah, one of your tiny spies."

"You'll be able to call to me by touching any strand of its web with a finger and speaking my name. Just remember that it takes me a little time to reach the web chamber from my workshop. But I promise that if you call, I'll answer."

"There are no insects in my palace for it to eat."

"I'm sure Regneniel would have no trouble catching one or two flies in the human realm every few days."

"Yes, I'm sure that could be managed. But how shall I carry this ... creature? Or have you a tiny cage all ready?"

Cray grinned. "No need for any cage. It will ride, without moving, wherever I place it. Your shoulder,your sleeve, even your finger. The choice is yours. And to settle it in its new home, you have only to brush it very gently against some hard surface, and it will cling there and begin to spin."

"Very well," said Aliza. "My sleeve will do. Right there." She pointed to a spot just below her elbow, and once Cray had set the spider there it was frozen, like a single dark bead upon the fabric.

Abruptly, as if it were stepping through a doorway in the solid rock of the cave wall, Regneniel material-ized half a dozen paces behind Aliza. "My lady," it said.

"Oh," said Aliza, her hand flying to her mouth, "I shouldn't have summoned him inside. I meant no in-sult by calling my demon into your home, believe me, lady. It won't happen again."

"Demons have been here before," said the Seer. "But it is a bit startling when they don't use the entrance like everyone else."

"We shall always use the entrance in future, I promise."

"I'm glad to hear that you intend to return."

Aliza gazed at her questioningly. "Why glad?"

"Because, child, I like you. I like people. I couldn't be a Seer if I didn't. But most people come to me once in their lives and never again. It's good to know that a familiar, and charming, face will be back sometime. And thank you for the beautiful gift. We have gold and jewels aplenty here, but it is rare that someone thinks to give me something made with his own skills. I doubt I could buy as fine a bowl anywhere."

"It's nothing," said Aliza.

"Nothing to you, perhaps. But I shall treasure it."

Aliza's lips parted, as if she were about to say something further, then she lifted a hand in farewell instead, to the Seer, to Sepwin, to Gildrum, to Cray. Then she gestured sharply to her demon, and it followed her to the tunnel that led to the mouth of the cave and the snow-covered path beyond.

Cray followed her into the daylight, but he said nothing, just waved as the Ice demon encircled its mistress's waist with one elongated arm. The two of them vanished.

Inside once more, he found the others still by the pool.

"I never thought the quest would end so abruptly," said Sepwin. "That's a strange young woman the mir-ror found you, my friend, who doesn't want to have anything to do with love. And yet she seems to like you well enough."

Cray asked the lady Helaine, "What did you see in her future, O Seer?"

"Great danger."

"And?"

"And you. Did you really think otherwise?" He shook his head. "The quest is far from ended, Feldar."

"How not?" said his friend. "You told her you would respect her wishes, and she doesn't wish you to go on the quest."

"And I shall not. I shall not go to her grandfather's castle in search of her soul. But you shall. O Feldar Sepwin with the two mismated eyes, you shall enter her grandfather's service with the rest of the crippled, the deformed, and the ugly. Oh, he'll love you, Feldar, I'm sure of it."

Sepwin smiled.

Chapter 10.

Standing outside Everand's castle, Feldar Sepwin was not impressed with the place. He had seen castles just as large and sprawling, but none in such a poor state of repair that were still inhabited. The walls were jagged with missing stonework, and where the gaps bit deepest into them, wooden beams bridged the open spaces. Atop the battlements were only a few stubby towers, irregularly placed, tall enough to hide a man from outside eyes, but only just; Sepwin could see places where there had been more of them, once. The roof of the inner keep, which should have been visible over the top of the wall from any reasonable distance was not. The gate, which sealed the castle from the world of ordinary mortals, was of thick logs bound together by rope, with tapered points uppermost, like a row of fangs; above them, the arch that had formerly roofed that entry was mostly gone, only its lowest stones still flanking the opening, standing above the crenelations like twin sentries.

The only aspect of those walls that was truly intact, Sepwin knew, was the spell that encased them, like a jacket of steel. He could feel it there, pervading stone and wood, rigid and unyielding. No demon could pass that barrier unless Everand willed it, no sorcerer, no ordinary mortal. Weak and ineffectual Aliza's grandfather might be, but he knew how to cast one spell at least, and to cast it properly.

Sepwin went to the gate, which was closed, and, cupping his hands around his mouth, shouted, "Ho the castle of my lord Everand!" He had to call three more times before someone appeared at the top of the wall, leaning out between the crenelations to look down at him.

"Who would you be?" asked the man, a stocky, dark-haired fellow with a large puckered scar twisting one side of his face into a permanent sneer.

"A wanderer in search of employment," replied Sepwin. To bolster that impression, he was wearing a travel-stained tunic and a threadbare cloak, and his boots had holes in them. "I was told at the village that there was some to be had here for one like myself."

"And what would you be like that that might be true?" inquired the disfigured man.

"Folk say my eyes are the ugliest in the world. That is a condition of employment here, is it not-ugliness?"

"One of them. But I see nothing ugly about your eyes."

"If you were a bit closer to me, you'd see well enough." The man peered down at him for another moment, then said, "Wait there."

Shortly, the heavy gate eased open just the width of a man's body, and the scarred fellow stepped into the gap. From there, both his hands clutching one of the ropes that bound the upright logs, he eyed Sepwin suspiciously. "We've never had anyoneask to serve here before."

"It's difficult for me to find work," said Sepwin. "Or even hospitality, as I'm sure you can understand."

The man squinted into Sepwin's face. "There are worse things in the world than eyes of two different colors, stranger. Far worse."

"Some would disagree with you. I've been hounded out of villages, beaten, and stoned. I've been accused of the vilest sorcery, of making cows sicken and crops fail. All because of these eyes."

"Sorcery?" The man laughed dryly. "If you were a sorcerer, you'd never have been beaten. Sorcerers don't have to fear ordinary folk."

"You're not afraid of me, then?"

"Why should I be? I have a sorcerer for a master, and he'll protect me from the evil eye. Whichever eye it is." He laughed again.

"At first they were afraid at the village," said Sepwin.

"Yes," said the man, bobbing his head. "They are afraid of everything there."

"But after I talked with some of them awhile, they thought it would be a good thing if I came here. They told me that I could take the place of one of the men who serves here and send him home. His name is Demas."

"Ah, you must have spoken to his mother."

"It was an old woman who first made the suggestion."

"Yes, she never wanted to send him here at all, but my lord needed another man. Yes, you might take his place; you look strong. Those eyes don't tax your strength, do they?"

Sepwin shook his head.

"Well, you must wait here for now. I can't let you in without my lord's approval. But he might approve.

You look strong, and Demas, poor Demas is not." He disappeared inside, swinging the gate shut behind him.

Sepwin strolled a few leisurely paces away. Beneath his well-worn boots, the bare ground all about the castle was soft and yielding, though not quite mud. The back of winter had been broken, and now only scattered patches of snow remained to be melted by the warming sun. It was decent weather for traveling, believable weather for traveling the ten days from the village to Everand's castle, and Sepwin looked dirty enough to have made that journey, though actually Gildrum had carried him almost the whole distance. He sat down on a boulder that lay near the path to the gate. It was a broad, deep-buried boulder, one of several that were the only blemishes on the earth around the castle. Such boulders were common enough in the forest, but here, uncloaked by trees or grass, they seemed like strange sentinels, keeping watch on Everand's walls. Sepwin had passed several of them in his circuit of the place, and at each he had let a few spiders fall from his sleeve. The very boulder on which he rested harbored two or three of the mites, and though he did not try to look for them, he knew they were busy spinning their webs so that Cray could watch those walls as if he were sitting before them.

The gate opened once more, and Sepwin sprang to his feet and trotted to it. The man who greeted him this time was tall and gaunt and pale-bearded, and though he wore a robe of plain brown homespun like any village elder, Sepwin knew from his imperious gaze that this was Everand the sorcerer. Sepwin bowed deeply.

"So you wish work," said the sorcerer. "We have work here for mortal hands. And in return for that work, a roof over your head, a bed of straw, food and clothing. Does that attract you?"

"My lord is most generous," said Sepwin. "I have not had such an excellent offer in many years."

"I have never seen anyone with eyes like yours," said Everand.

"We seem to be very rare, my lord. I have never met another."

"I wonder why you were not killed at birth."

Sepwin bowed again. "My lord, that is a question I cannot answer."

Everand studied him for a long moment. "You must know," he said at last, "that once these walls embrace you, you will be totally within my power. You will not be able to leave unless I will it. And if you give me cause, I can strike you dead at any time without the aid of sword or spear."

"I have no wish to give you any such cause, my lord. I am a simple man, with a great desire to fill my empty belly, nothing more. It is not easy for one like me to find a place where he is accepted, and once I have found it, I would not willingly leave."

"Come in then," said Everand, and he stepped back through the gate.

Sepwin smiled and entered. He felt the magical barrier as he stepped through it, like some invisible fog that penetrated his clothing and even his flesh with a damp chill. Like all such spells, it enveloped the castle in a secrecy impenetrable to any Seer outside the walls. But now Sepwin was inside, and for the length of his stay that barrier would allow him to use his power within its circumference while it sealed the rest of the human realm away from him.

"Yltra will show you where to sleep," said the sor-cerer, indicating the man with the scarred face.

"Demas will show you his duties, and when you have learned them, he may go back to the village."

Yltra bowed low before the sorcerer, and Cray imi-tated him, saying, "Thank you again, my lord," and Everand walked away from them.

Save for a few simple wooden huts built against one of the walls and the small, squat keep itself, the inte-rior of the castle was quite open, a broad expanse of hard-packed earth. Near the huts, a low fence and some scanty remains of beans and lettuce showed that part of it had been cultivated as a kitchengarden. The rest was as flat and empty as if it had been trampled by thousands of feet. As Yltra guided him toward one of the huts, Sepwin saw that Everand was entering the keep.

"This is Demas," Yltra said. "Today it is his turn to cook."

The hut was a kitchen, very warm, with a broad hearth built hard against the stone wall-built, it seemed, of fragments of the same stone that formed the walls themselves. In the hearth, a side of venison was spit-ted over the flames, and three large pots rested on trivets set among them. Moving from pot to pot, stirring with a long-handled wooden spoon, was a boy of twelve or thirteen years. He turned his sooty, sweaty face to Sepwin and Yltra as they entered.

"Not ready yet," he said. "You'll have to wait." Then, as his eyes lit upon Sepwin for the first time, he let the spoon go and wiped at his forehead with the back of one arm. His other arm, exposed by his sleeveless smock, was too short, shriveled and curled tight against his chest. "Who are you?" he said.

Sepwin inclined his head. "Your replacement. Feldar Sepwin at your service."

"Replacement?"

"Yes, your mother wants you to come home, and I have offered to stay here in your stead."

The boy looked to Yltra. "Ishe mad?"

The scarred man shrugged. "Be thankful that he's come. You have only to teach him your duties and then go. The master has said it, and if I were you I would hurry before he changes his mind."

The boy's eyes were wide and wary. "Shouldn't someone else go? I haven't been here very long. Surely one of the others, or you, Yltra, it ought to be your turn."

"Your mother asked for you," said the scarred man. "No one asked for any of us." He glanced at Sepwin. "Did they?"

Sepwin shook his head. "Just the old woman."

"There, you see. No one wants any of us. You're a lucky boy, Demas. Your mother still remembers rock-ing you to sleep in her arms."

"Do you know anything of cooking?" asked the boy.