The far wall of the room they had been peering into had suddenly vanished, revealing the chamber beyond. This was as large and empty as the outer room except for one thing-in its midst, looking small and fragile against the immensity of the place, stood the young woman. She hesitated just a moment, and then she began to walk toward Cray and his demons.

Cray watched silently as she came all the way to the wall and looked out through its transparency at his face. Her gaze was level, without surprise, without distaste, without welcome. She was an arm's length away, and he almost felt as though he were seeing her in the mirror again. His eyes met hers, and a shiver went through him.

"Hello," he said, not knowing if she could hear him, if his voice could carry through the material that separated them. He raised his demon-gloved hands to the clear smooth outer surface of her residence, press-ing against it gently as Elrelet kept him from floating away backward. "My name is Cray Ormoru, and I've come a very long way to make your acquaintance."

And then the transparent wall turned to air beneath his hands, and he pitched forward into that strange and wonderful building.

Chapter 4.

She had stepped aside and allowed him to fall at her feet. And he had indeedfallen; though he was still within the demon world of Ice, or so he thought, he had weight once more. And though Elrelet no longer wrapped him, for he had struck tile crystalline floor with his bare hands, with his unprotected knees, he felt no chill; the floor and the air around him were pleasantly warm. He glanced over one shoulder and saw, beyond the transparent wall, his three demon companions. He waved to them to show he was unharmed, and then he rose to his feet and faced the woman.

She was as tall as he, dressed all in white velvet, and at her throat was the white sapphire pendant. She looked him up and down, looked especially at his hands, and then she circled him with a slow step as he stood very still. At last she said, "Are you a sorcerer?" Her voice was low-pitched and soft, yet com-manding, the voice of one accustomed to obedience.

He smiled and made a small bow. "I am. Cray Ormoru of Castle Spinweb at your service, my lady." He gestured toward the demons beyond the wall. "And these are my companions, Gildrum of Fire, Elrelet of Air, and Leemin of this world. May they enter, too?"

She glanced at them for just a moment, then returned her gaze to him. "No," she said. "Do you live in Ice?"

"No, my lady. Spinweb lies in the human realm."

"But you use Ice for your travels." "This is the first time I've ever done so."

She tilted her head a bit, as if to see him from a fresh angle. "Ice can be a dangerous place for those not accustomed to it."

"So I surmised. But I was willing to face that danger in order to meet you."

A faint frown creased her pale brow. "And how do you know of me, Cray Ormoru of Spinweb? I know nothing of you."

He smiled again. "My lady, I know nearly nothing of you, too, and yet, in a way, I know you well. You could say, in fact, that you and I are old, old friends, though our acquaintance has been somewhat one-sided till now. I think I have a tale that will divert you; could we, perhaps, sit down while I tell it?"

She looked at him with that faint frown still cloud-ing her face, looked at him with eyes that were as dark and cool as a winter night, and at last she said, "Very well." Raising one hand to the level of her waist, she spread the fingers horizontally, palm downward. Im-mediately, a section of the floor rose up in a block behind her, smooth and silent, and then shards of the block broke free to thrust farther, till the whole had become a massive crystalline throne with broad arm-rests and a high back. She sat down on it, her spine very straight, her arms draped gracefully upon the rests. After a moment, she lifted one hand slightly to point to Cray's left, and only then did he realize that a second seat had risen there as silently as the first.

He sat. And then, looking at her as she waited for him to speak, he had to laugh softly. "I can scarcely believe that I'm finally seeing you, the real you, after all these years."

Her eyes narrowed. "The real me."

"Yes." He leaned back in his chair. "You see, some time ago, I was involved in the creation of a marvelous magical device." In some detail, he told her of the making of the mirror, of its popularity with ordinary mortals, of its initial emptiness for him and its ultimate revelation of herself as child, youth, adult.

He spoke of the frustration of being unable to find her and the triumph of identifying the gem at her throat.

"Once I knew where you lived, I couldn't stay away. I had only known you still and silent, as in a painted portrait. I had to see you move, to hear your voice. I couldn't let the mirror keep showing me a stranger forever."

She lifted one hand from the armrest of her chair, a languid gesture that ended at her mouth; she stroked her lower lip with one finger. "And now that you have found me?"

He grinned. "We will start where two strangers should, of course. I've given you my name. Perhaps now you'll tell me yours?"

She inclined her head slightly. "I am Aliza."

"And the name of this place?" He waved a hand to encompass the building.

"Must it have a name?"

"Most sorcerers name their homes."

"Why?" "Well ... " He shrugged. "To identify them. And to identify their inhabitants. When I introduce myself, I say I am Cray Ormoru of Spinweb, and so people know a great deal about me without my having to say more."

"Do they?" She stroked her lower lip again. "I have this information and it tells me nothing about you. As well call yourself X from Castle X for all it means to me."

"Many would recognize those names," he said. "Spinweb and its mistress, my mother, enjoy a certain fame in the human realm."

"Oh? As what?"

"As a place and a person of power. My mother is Delivev Ormoru, known as the Weaver. Perhaps you have heard of her tapestries. Sorcerers vie with each other to purchase them, and even kings have been known to gird up their courage and inquire about them."

Aliza shook her head. "Her name and work are not known to me. But then, I pay very little attention to the human realm."

Cray glanced about the chamber, at the bare crystalline surfaces on every side. "This place could benefit by a few tapestries." He envisioned one of his moth-er's prizes hanging nearby-perhaps a landscape of soft browns and greens, with an azure sky above, the whole lit by its own internal golden light, a sharp contrast to the bluish radiance that suffused the room. There was no sunshine in Aliza's residence; that was obvious from her pale complexion. He could bring it to her, in yarns of all sunny colors. "I could arrange very prompt delivery."

One of her dark eyebrows rose a trifle. "And what would I be required to give your mother as payment for a few of these much-sought-after tapestries?"

"Nothing," said Cray. "They would be my gift to you."

"You are very free with gifts to a stranger."

"I hope we will not remain strangers."

She gazed at him without speaking for a long mo-ment, her cool eyes searching his face, as if she could find answers to her questions without having to ask them. At last she said, "You believe that I am your heart's desire?"

He hesitated, then sighed softly. "To be perfectly honest, I don't know. Feldar says the mirror never lies.

Yet we've only just met. I thought ... perhaps ... we could be friends and let the rest go for now."

"I have no friends," she said.

"None?"

She shook her head. "I have no time for friends. My life is filled up by my studies."

He gestured toward the pendant at her throat. "But you seem to have at least one demon." "A demon is a slave, not a friend."

He shrugged. "I suppose the two could be consid-ered mutually exclusive. Yet a demon can be as good a friend as any mortal."

She fingered the pendant delicately. "I don't understand that." Then she glanced past Cray, toward the wall where Gildrum, Elrelet, and Leemin waited. "You consider those your friends?"

He decided to let the question of Leemin's status go for now. "I do."

She looked to Cray once more, to his hands, to the open collar of his shirt. "You wear no rings that I can see, no gems. How do you command them?"

"I don't. When they help me, they do so of their own free will, for friendship's sake, not because of any sorcerous compulsion." He leaned an elbow on the arm of his chair and rested his chin on his upraised fist. "But you must have one friend at least-Leemin told me another mortal has been seen with you from time to time."

"My grandfather," said Aliza. "I am his apprentice, and he comes here once a year to evaluate my progress."

"Once a year? That leaves a large number of days to be accounted for. What of your parents? Do you visit them?"

"My parents died when I was a child."

"And your other relatives ... ?"

"I have none."

"Ah." Cray eased back in his crystalline seat. "Well, many sorcerers are solitary, friendless creatures, living alone in their isolated castles. Living alone, truly, in spite of all the rings their hands can hold. I've met a number of them in my life, and it has always seemed to me that such an existence is a sad one.

You're very young to be sad, my lady Aliza."

She frowned. "I don't know what you mean. I'm quite content the way I am. I don't wish any disturbances."

"Yes, they often say that sort of thing. And by the time they're a century or two old, they have forgotten how to deal with other people. Sorcery has consumed them and they are no longer entirely ... human.

How unfortunate it would be if that happened to you."

"It hardly seems unfortunate to me. I have no desire to deal with other mortals."

Cray studied her pale, beautiful face. He saw inno-cence there, an innocent certainty, sheltered here in Ice, away from all outside influences. He asked her, "Is sorcery, then ... everything to you?"

"Yes. Of course."

"And this is what your grandfather has taught you." "He had no need to teach it to me. It was obvious."

"Was it?" Cray nodded slowly. "I suppose it must have been, from every word he said, every gesture he made. He is trapped already in that way of life, dried up, with all capacity for human feeling lost. He has apprenticed you only because it is proper for a sorcerer to apprentice his own flesh and blood, not because he loves you and wants the best for you. It probably pains him to visit you even once a year."

"Let it pain him then," Aliza said coolly, "as long as his teaching continues. I care nothing for his mo-tives. He is a powerful sorcerer and has chosen to apprentice me, and that is all that matters."

Cray said, "How long has it been, Aliza, since you spoke to another human being?"

"My grandfather was here-"

"Aside from him."

She hesitated. "I don't recall."

"A year? Two years?"

"Longer than that." She looked away from him, down, long lashes veiling her eyes. "I was five when my grandfather brought me here, and I have been here ever since. I have spoken with no other mortal but him in that time."

"Not since you were a child?" Cray said, wonder in his voice.

"There was no need for it. My demon fed and clothed me and taught the lessons my grandfather set, and he came once a year to see how well I was doing." She lifted her eyes to his once more, and there was defiance in them. "Other mortals would simply have intruded on my studies."

Softly, he said, "As I am doing now?"

Her lips made a thin line. "Yes, as you are doing now." She stood abruptly. "I don't have to justify my life to you, Cray Ormoru. And I don't have to speak to you any more."

He gazed up at her. "What sort of demon is it, my lady Aliza?"

Her hand went to the sapphire. "Ice."

He nodded. "A good match for the life you lead. The demons of Ice thrive on solitude. They hate dis-turbances. But a human being is not an Ice demon." He stood, too, and as there was barely an arm's length between them, he reached out to touch her arm. Before his outstretched fingers could make contact with the velvet of her sleeve, though, a barrier sprang up between the two of them, as crystalline and transpar-ent as the walls, the chairs, but thin as vellum. His knuckles banged against it, and he pulled his hand back in surprise. "Are you afraid to be touched by human flesh, my lady?"

She stared at him, unblinking. "I am afraid of noth-ing. I am mistress of this palace, and everything in it obeys my will. Everything."

Cray inclined his head. "I will obey, then, too. I would not cause you distress. But hear me, lady, and believe me. I have been a sorcerer longer than you have been alive, and I know the values of friendship. Ithink you need a friend."

"I think not."

"And I think that once you have experienced friendship, you will come to cherish it."

"And I think that you had best go home and ask your mirror for another heart's desire."

"I'm sorry if I have offended you."

"You have not offended me," she said. "I simply have no more time to spare for a visitor. As a sor-cerer, you know how much study still lies ahead of me. I wish to return to it now." She pointed past Cray's shoulder. "You can leave at the same place where you entered. Your friends are still waiting for you there."

"I had hoped to leave a friend behind, here."

"I have no need of friends," she said firmly.

He sighed. "As you will, my lady."

"Good-bye."

The wall was only a few paces away. Facing it, Cray reached out to that transparent surface and, for a moment, it was hard beneath his hands; then it melted away, and he felt the cold breath of Ice on his body. He shivered and took a step, and then, straddling the boundary between Aliza's home and Ice itself, he turned and smiled one last time at her. And as he smiled, he felt himself pushed away, outward, by something hard and transparent and irresistible-the wall, resolidify-ing itself. He was still watching her, still smiling, when she glided out of the room and the mirrored wall sprang up behind her.

Elrelet enveloped him with warmth. "What hap-pened?" it whispered.

Cray let himself float in the midst of Leemin's hol-low cylinder. "It didn't go well."

"We couldn't hear," said Gildrum, "but we thought the look on her face betrayed some ... lack of enthu-siasm for you."

"Something like that," said Cray. He folded his arms across his chest, feeling cold in spite of the de-mon, a deep, penetrating cold. "It's been a strange experience, my friends. My friends." He shook his head.

"Feldar criticized me once for seeking power for its own sake, for having nothing else in my life, and I scoffed at him. Now I see precisely that in Aliza, and it chills me more than Ice itself. What a terrible fate she's condemned herself to. And she doesn't even know that it's terrible. She doesn't have anything to compare it with."

"Is it really so terrible?" said Gildrum, "if she doesn't realize that it is?"