But there was nothing sorcerous about Sepwin's voice, only about those to whom he spoke, those who waited among the boulders in the clearing that surrounded the castle. With teeth and tongue he made the soft chirruping sound that would attract the attention of those magical spiders. They would signal to Cray, far off in Spinweb, and he would run to the web room to listen.

Sepwin whispered so softly that a mortal standing more than an arm's length away would not have been able to make out the words, but he knew Cray would hear: "I haven't found it yet. I'd say it wasn't here at all, but there's a possibility that it's disguised somehow, so I'll keep searching. Meanwhile, I've discov-ered that Everand is missing his left ear. If you can find it, I know it has an important story to tell, per-haps even the location of the soul. The lady Helaine can help you. Good luck."

He expected no answer, no sign that he had been heard. The clearing around the castle was as silent as the forest, as silent as the yard behind him. He turned away from the embrasure and sauntered down the banquette to the stairway. He yawned. There was cooking to be done in the morning, and another sur-reptitious examination of certain areas of the castle. He wondered if the soul could be concealed inside a turnip, perhaps, and buried in the root cellar beneath the servants' quarters. It was a possibility worth look-ing into.

* * * "How are we going to find this ear?" Cray said to the lady Helaine. Gildrum had flown him to her cave as soon as they heard Sepwin's message. "Surely it's long decayed by now, or eaten by some wild animal or maggots or some such."

The lady Helaine smiled at him. "We must presume that such is not the case. We must consider how a man might lose an ear, and what might happen to it afterward."

"It was lost in a fight, I suppose. Cut off by some enemy's sword or knife."

"Sorcerers rarely take part in hand-to-hand combat, Cray."

"Rarely, but not never. Perhaps it was when he was an apprentice."

The lady Helaine shrugged. "Perhaps. And perhaps ... his enemy still has it. As a memento."

"A grisly memento!"

"No more so than the horns of a deer, I think." She turned to Gildrum. "This is a sorcerer's ear, my friend. Surely your fellow demons will know where it is, if it does still exist."

Gildrum laughed. "I'll ask among them. I'll wager that none of them has ever been asked about an ear before."

"One can never be sure of such things," she said.

Cray looked long at her after Gildrum was gone. She sat by the pool, her fingers trailing in the water; she seemed to be gazing at her own reflection in the dark water, but Cray knew better. "What do you see?"

"Sorcery. For you and Feldar and this quest, always sorcery."

"You have some suspicion about the ear, haven't you?"

"Feldar knows a significant thing when he sees it."

"More than that."

She did not raise her eyes from the pool. "I have lived long, Cray, and seen many things in that time.

Where sorcery is concerned, I never assume I know all there is to be known. I'll keep my suspicions to myself for now."

"My lady, that's hardly fair. Here we are trying to help Aliza and you are keeping secrets ... "

She laughed softly. "Oh, Cray, you are so young. If you had been a sorcerer half as long as I have been a Seer, you would have your own suspicions and no need at all for mine." She stood, drying her hand on the skirt of her gown. "Come, let's have a cup of wine to help us sleep, and perhaps in the morning Gildrum will have returned with news. And if not, the pool tells me that a petitioner will arrive shortly after dawn, a king's second son come to ask what fate lies before him-he will help to pass the time."

Cray nodded. "I could use a cup of wine." He followed her to the kitchen, where she poured goblets of pale white wine for both of them. Cray drained half of his at a draft. "Poor Feldar," he said, lookingdown into the remainder. "As a servant he probably doesn't drink much wine in Everand's castle."

"He'll survive that privation," said the lady He-laine, sipping delicately at her own cup. "I'm sure he still remembers the days before he ever tasted wine."

Cray sighed. "It seems like he's been there so long. And still he hasn't found it."

"Who knows what magical hiding places a clever sorcerer might devise? You must be patient, Cray."

He folded both his hands about his cup. "Sometimes I think my days of patience are long gone."

"A sign of youth," said the Seer. "The blood flows fast, and you think everything else must match it. But you have lives and lives ahead of you, Cray. Time enough for anything, for everything. We who are old should be the impatient ones, for we know how little is left, and how much must be squeezed into that time. But we are too tired for impatience; our blood runs too slow for it."

He looked at her face, at the fine network of crepy wrinkles that patterned it, at the brows and lashes so pale and sparse that they were almost invisible, at the eyes that seemed slowly to have lost their color over the years he had known her. She would never tell her age, and so he did not know if she were merely old as ordinary mortals were or if her span had been increased by sorcery and she were living in the final years, decades, centuries of some greater time. He had offered to lengthen her life himself, and she had gently rejected the offer. Sometimes he wondered if she had done so because sorcery had already worked to its limits upon her or because she simply did not wish to live beyond her natural term.

Or ... had she seen her own death in the pool and chosen not to struggle against that fate? How much time, he won-dered, did she really have left?

"Do you miss Feldar very much?" he asked.

"Yes."

"I'm sorry. Somehow he seemed so confident, I didn't think it would take this long."

"It was his choice."

"Can you tell-does the pool tell you yet if he'll return safely?"

"The quest is far from over, Cray. Very far."

He slept that night in Sepwin's bed, but he dreamed of Aliza in her palace of crystal.

It was afternoon when Gildrum returned. The king's son had long since departed, and Cray and the lady Helaine had eaten their midday meal from the gold plates he had brought in payment for his future.

"Every time I think I understand your kind, I dis-cover some fresh marvel to amaze me," the demon said, taking its human form behind Cray's chair.

Cray turned to face him, one arm over the back of the chair. "Did you find some trace of the ear?"

"I did. I found a demon who saw it no longer ago than yesterday." "Where?"

Gildrum chuckled softly. "It's a piece of jewelry, of sorts, hanging on a golden chain about the neck of a sorcerer."

"Jewelry?"

"By sorcery, he has preserved it as soft and flexible, and even as warm, as the day it was cut off Everand's head. My informant, an Ice demon, particularly com-mented on its warmth."

"The demon is this sorcerer's slave?"

"Yes, though it spends most of its time in Ice. From it I learned that although the sorcerer, one Taranol, has a great many demons of Fire, Air, and Water, none ofthem has enough leisure to spend time in the demon realm. Apparently, he has very little use for Ice demons. Which, I would guess, is why he sold Regneniel to Everand."

"Sold? I've never heard of a sorcerer selling a demon."

"Nor had I, before this. But sell he did, and the price of that sale was Everand's ear."

Cray shook his head. "Why would this Taranol want Everand's ear?"

"That, the demon could not tell me."

"The ear is the man," said the lady Helaine. "As long as it lives, it is a part of him, and obviously Taranol has maintained its life with his sorcery. Thus he holds it hostage, to prevent the one who bought the demon from ever raising a hand against him. As Everand can harm Aliza through her living soul, so can Taranol harm Everand through his living ear."

"A careful man, this Taranol," said Gildrum. "He must have known how weak Everand was-it seems to be common knowledge among those who have heard of the man-yet wished to protect himself just in case that weakness gave way to something more formidable."

"I would never give another person such power over myself," said Cray.

"I suppose he thought he had a good reason for it."

"An Ice demon? I can't even imagine why he would do it for a Fire demon!"

"Perhaps the ear will tell us," said the Seer. "It will certainly speak to me of the time before his appren-ticeship, and if he is as weak as you have said, it may tell more than that. Feldar seems to think it will."

"But how can we get it?" asked Gildrum. "Taranol wears it constantly. And he never goes out of his castle without a retinue of demons. I don't see any way we could steal it except to overwhelm them all with sheer numbers, and that would mean a full-scale battle. Do you want a war with this Taranol over an ear?"

"No battle. No war," said Cray. "I don't want to steal it at all. I just want to borrow it." * * *

They met in a forest clearing, some days' travel, by ordinary means, from Taranol's residence. Cray stood on one side of the clearing, Gildrum and Elrelet with him in their demon forms. Taranol entered from the opposite side, an entourage so numerous accompany-ing him, of Fire and Air and Water demons, that had they been courtiers Cray would have guessed the man a king. He was very short, this Taranol, and very fat, and he did not walk but was carried on a couch of cloud. He was smooth-shaven, his garments immacu-lately clean and richly ornamented with golden thread and the plumes of rare birds, and his short fingers were heavy laden with rings and flashing stones. The ear seemed a grotesque and incongruous bauble against his silk-draped torso.

Cray stepped forward and bowed deeply. "Lord Taranol, I thank you for so graciously accepting my invitation."

Taranol spoke softly to the demon nearest his shoul-der, was silent during an equally soft reply, and then laughed, the thick folds of flesh beneath his chin quiv-ering with that laughter. "Well, young Master Cray, I was intrigued by your request, and by your little gift as well. I am willing to listen if you can continue to be so persuasive."

By Gildrum, Cray had sent the sorcerer a miniature tree made of gold. It was as tall as a man's knee and would not grow taller, being a dead thing, fashioned in his workshop rather than sown in the garden, but when the slightest breeze stirred its burnished leaves, they rang against each other like the sweetest bells.

Cray said, "Lord Taranol, I see by your garments that you are one who appreciates fine needlecraft."

The man inclined his head in agreement.

"Now, I happen to be acquainted with one of the greatest practitioners of needlecraft alive today, and to demonstrate just a fraction of her skill to you, I have this modest footstool, which I made and which she decorated expressly for you." He stretched a hand out to Gildrum, and from the depths of its flame, the demon produced the stool that Cray had grown from the darkest ebony and that his mother had cushioned with her finest embroidery. The cushion was black velvet, its perimeter studded with gold, a proud, spread-winged bird worked in crimson silk upon its center. Cray took the stool from Gildrum and held it out to Taranol with both hands.

The sorcerer gestured to one of his demons, who floated forward to receive the gift and to display it to its master. "A pretty piece of work," said Taranol. "I will be pleased to have it in my home."

"In addition to these trifles," said Cray, "I offer a bed coverlet of cloth of gold backed by plush, which I guarantee is as warm as any five woolen blankets." Elrelet brought this item out of its cloudiness and, with Gildrum's and Cray's help, spread it out to catch the sunlight. Cray and Gildrum had made it, drawing the gold into thread as fine as silk and weaving it with sheerest linen under Delivev's direction. The rich am-ethyst of the plush showed through the glittering sur-face as through a fine mist.

Taranol's eyes glittered almost as brightly as the cloth. "You tempt me strongly, Master Cray," he said, one plump hand moving to cover the ear, to press it against his chest. "All of this for the half day's loan of a piece of rubbish."

"Do you consider it rubbish, Lord Taranol, and yet wear it at your throat every day of your life?"

Taranol laughed a low, sardonic laugh. "I wear it because one can never tell when one might need thesmallest piece of rubbish. Everand is a fool, and fools can be dangerous. Now tell me-why do you want it?"

"A Seer has told me it has information I need, about his life and motives."

"His life is wretched and his motives are obvious. The man wants to be what he cannot be. What more do you need to know?"

"Among other things, why he chose to buy an Ice demon."

"I can tell you that, Master Cray. He bought because he could not conjure, and he bought an Ice demon because I would not sell him any other kind. I am not a fool. As it was, I gave him more power than he deserved."

"He gave you considerable power in exchange."

Taranol held the ear out toward Cray. "This? This is nothing. Oh, power over him-yes, I have that. But power over nothing is still nothing. The exchange was all to his advantage. I had no use for the Ice demon."

"So I see from your hands," said Cray. "Even a fool must know that you are a powerful sorcerer indeed.

I would think, therefore, that you had no need for the ear. Surely you could defend yourself against him, whatever he might become, with all your other power."

Taranol shrugged. "Probably true. But I dislike fight-ing. This keeps Everand from even thinking of attack-ing me. He doesn't like me, you know. Some years ago, when he was looking for a master to take his granddaughter as apprentice, he asked me, and I refused. A child of his line apprenticed to me-how absurd. So I take no chances on any unpleasantness from him. With this ear in my hands, I could control his entire existence. I could make him so dizzy that he would fall down and vomit his innards out. He'd have a very difficult time doing anything at all under those circumstances. He knows this, of course, and he fears me. But he also knows that I won't use the ear if he does not give me cause." He smiled broadly. "You know, if I do loan you the ear, you won't be able to use it against him."

"I had not intended to."

"But you are looking for some kind of hold over him. You think the ear can tell you how best to find one."

Cray hesitated. "I cannot deny that such a thing might have its uses."

"Perhaps you and his granddaughter are plotting something against the old man?"

"I and his granddaughter?"

Taranol laughed that low, sardonic laugh again. "You needn't pretend that you don't know her, Master Cray. I assure you, I'm aware of your journey through Ice. And I know a great deal more about you than that. These demons don't spend all of their time carrying me about."

Cray inclined his head. "I can appreciate your wish to know as much as possible about me before traffick-ing with me. But believe me, Everand's granddaughter and I are not plotting against him in any way. I merely wish to understand the man better, for my own per-sonal reasons." Taranol interlocked his fingers over the ear. "Well, I would never want to pry into your personal reasons, Master Cray. Still, you want this thing from me, and I am loath to part with it even for an afternoon, in spite of all these lovely persuasions you have given me. On the other hand, I know from my demons that you are no weakling where sorcery is concerned, and that although you wear no rings, you do command the ser-vices of a number of powerful demons. I understand that you are not a man to cross."

"I have a few friends among the demon races," Cray admitted. "I don't command them, but they do me favors now and then. I know they wouldn't wish any harm to come to me."

"Of course not. So perhaps we can reach a compro-mise of sorts-I will loan you the ear for an afternoon, but I really cannot allow it out of my sight. Therefore, either you will do whatever it is you want to do with it here in this clearing, or I and my demons will accom-pany you to do it where you wish."

"It can't be done here," said Cray. "And your de-mons would crowd the place where it must be done until we humans could not breathe."

"Oh, they are quite skilled at making themselves small and unobtrusive. I think we can manage without suffocating."

Cray folded his arms across his chest. "Very well. If that is your only condition, I will not dispute it.

Which way do you choose to go-through Air or Fire?"

Taranol's lips twisted slightly in an expression of distaste. "Must we go through the demon realm?"

"I know no other route."

"Oh, Air, then. It's the least unpleasant of the lot."

With one hand, Cray indicated Elrelet. "This demon will show you the way. I shall meet you there."

"You won't travel with us?"

"No, I have preparations to make. I won't be long." He bowed a farewell, and Gildrum took him up and lifted him into the sky.

Once they were in his own world, the Fire demon said, "He may look fat and slothful, but you'd be wise not to underestimate his intellect."