"Go ahead," she said.

Setting his goblet on the table, he stripped off the shirt and tossed it to the center of that broad ebony expanse, where it lay in a limp heap. With the slightest movement of one finger, he made the shirt rise on its sleeves as on a pair of legs and walk toward Aliza. In front of her, it bent at newly defined knees and knelt, the body of the shirt leaning forward like a human torso, in a deep bow. Then it stood once more.

"I can animate an entire suit of clothes this way, and with buskins on the feet and a hood or a scarf where the head should be, no one would be able to tell, at a glance, that it was not a human being." Aliza reached out to touch the creature, to wrap her fingers about one of those hollow limbs and squeeze. Instead of crushing in her grip, the sleeve stood as solid as if an invisible arm were filling it. "So these are the kinds of servants you have in Spinweb," she said.

Cray nodded.

"Yet ... you seem to know a great deal about demons. If your sorcery does not require them, how did you happen to meet the ones you call your friends?"

The shirt walked back to Cray and collapsed into a pile that looked as though it had never been animate.

He slipped it back on. "I was apprenticed to a demon master once, and Gildrum belonged to him.

Working together for a number of years, we became very close. He was just like another human being, and warmer than some I had known. Through him, I met Elrelet and Leemin."

"Then Gildrum is a slave," said Aliza. "Doesn't that make your friendship somewhat ... difficult? I mean, what if you and the demon were doing something together and its master called it? It would have to go, perhaps leaving you in an uncomfortable situa-tion, or even a dangerous one."

"Gildrum's old master is dead," said Cray, "and he is free."

"He."

"Yes, I think of Gildrum ashe. He wears a human form most of the time these days. In fact, he lives at Spinweb that way."

"Lives at Spinweb?"

"Yes. My mother and I consider him part of our family."

"Oh," said Aliza. She fingered her wine goblet thoughtfully. "And the other two? Are they free as well?"

"Yes."

"But they could he enslaved at any time, any or all of the three. Perhaps even while you are here in Ice.

How would you get home if all three were snatched away from you? It seems a precarious sort of relationship to me, this friendship with demons."

Cray grinned at her. "Are you planning on a bit of ring making while I'm here? I thought you didn't need any more demons."

"Not I. But one can never tell what other sorcerers may be doing."

He picked up his goblet and drank from it, then eyed her over the rim. "Perhaps you're thinking of telling your grandfather their names so that he can try to claim them."

She shook her head. "Why should I do that? He has plenty of demons, and plenty of power to conjure as many more as he likes. He needs no help from me. But I was thinking of the foolishness of depending upon creatures that could be taken away and even used against you by some enemy. That would be an ironic reversal, would it not-your friends forced to harm you?" "It would if it were possible," he said. "But in this case it is not. Neither Gildrum nor Elrelet nor Leemin can ever be enslaved again. I have seen to it."

"Ah ... you are more cautious than I thought."

Cray emptied his goblet, then set it down. "I don't call it caution. But if you like, you can view it that way."

"How do you view it?"

He looked at her speculatively. He could not tell her the whole truth; no mortal stranger could be trusted with that. But he thought he could offer her a small piece of it. "While Gildrum was still a slave," he told her, "he met my mother and fell in love with her, and she with him. He wanted to be with her, of course, but as you so rightly pointed out, a slave has no control over his own life. And Gildrum's master kept him very busy. But after that master died, Gildrum was able to go to her, and I didn't want him to be taken away ever again. So I set him free."

"For which he owes you a great deal."

"He owes me nothing," Cray said firmly. "He has made my mother very happy."

"And the other two?" asked Aliza.

"I didn't wish to see my friends forced to do a master's bidding. Would you wish to be a slave?"

Her lips curved in a cool smile, the first smile he had seen upon her face. "I have been an apprentice,"

she said. "Is that so very different?"

He laughed, more at seeing her smile than at her words. "That depends on what sort of apprenticeship it is. Mine with the demon master was indeed little better than slavery in some respects. I did quite a lot of scrubbing and cleaning for him."

"And you had to study your lessons or face his anger. You couldn't stop to follow your own fancies."

"Well, I could have, but he probably would have thrown me out."

"For the time you were his apprentice, your life belonged to him," said Aliza, her expression serious once more, as if the smile had never touched it. "He taught you sorcery. He could as easily have taught you to conjure up your own death as to summon a demon. How would you have known the difference?

You were in his power completely."

"Yes," Cray admitted. "But only for a handful of years. Apprenticeship does end. Slavery can go on for centuries."

"A demon's life is far longer than that."

"Yet demons feel the passage of time just as we do."

Aliza gazed down into her goblet, where only a swallow or two of wine remained. For a moment she appeared to be contemplating that clear red fluid, and then she said, "Have you known many demons?" "My master had quite a number of them."

"Of all four kinds?"

"No, just Fire demons. But through Gildrum I have met some of the others as well."

"You think you understand them?"

"In a small way, yes. They are not really so differ-ent from mortals."

She raised her eyes to his, her cool, dark eyes. "I know only one demon. It serves me swiftly and without complaint. It instructs me in sorcery and answers my questions. But it has no desires, no fears, no ... individuality. It is not aperson. It is as inhuman as the crystalline creatures that hung your tapestry. I cannot conceive of a demon that is any more than that. Are the demons of Fire and Air and Water so different from those of Ice?"

"They vary," said Cray, "both individually and from one kind to another. The demons of Fire tend to be the most sensitive, or at least they show their feelings more than the others. Air demons are more light-hearted, gregarious, and talkative. Water demons are solemn and serious, almost pompous. And Ice demons-well, you described yours as inhuman, and I suppose that is close enough. They are aloof, cold, and soli-tary. And in some ways they hate slavery more than all the others-because it is such an intrusion on their privacy."

"My demon does not appear to be capable of ha-tred. It has no more emotion than this goblet." She held it up.

Cray shrugged. "It's a cold sort of hatred, my lady, but hatred nonetheless. Ice demons do not display their emotions. But they like freedom as well as the others do. Leemin was certainly willing to accept my offer of it."

"Leemin is only one demon."

"I've heard the same from more than one of them." He leaned toward her. "Can you really imagine that they accept slavery willingly? Why, a demon slave doesn't even receive the benefits that a human slave would. A demon has no need for food or shelter or clothing or protection from wild animals. A demon receives absolutely nothing of value in return for its services. Unless you consider the absence of punish-ment by its master to be some sort of gain." He shook his head. "I wouldn't want tobe either kind of slave, and so I can't keep either kind. I wouldn't be able to sleep at night, knowing I held thinking, feeling crea-tures prisoner. And so I practice a variety of sorcery that does not call for them."

She shifted her posture on the couch, as if all her muscles had become stiff through long sitting. She drained her goblet and set it on the table. "More wine?" she said.

"Yes, thank you. It's very good." He watched her fill both vessels. "Where does it come from?"

"A place called Maretia."

"I don't recognize the name. Where does it lie?"

"I wouldn't know. My demon fetches the wine." "Ah. Of course." He raised his goblet to his lips. Over its rim, he could see that she was studying him as he drank-studying him as if he were some strange and wonderful creature, not simply another mortal.

Cray could not remember ever studying another human being so intently. Perhaps he would do the same, he thought, if he had seen only one other-and that one infrequently-since he was five years old.

Finally, she said, "How can you compare demons to yourself, Cray Ormoru? You are as unlike my demon as I can imagine."

He smiled at her. "Their concerns are, generally, not the same as ours. But that doesn't mean I can't feel for them. Perhaps because I've known Gildrum so well, demons don't seem strange and inexplicable to me. No more so than other human beings, at any rate. Some ofthem, in fact, seem somewhat more strange and inexplicable."

Her eyes narrowed. "Are you perhaps speaking of me?"

"No, my lady, no. I don't think you're inexplicable. I think you have lived so long with an Ice demon as your only companion that you have come to resemble it somewhat. That doesn't seem strange at all."

"I? An Ice demon?"

"I meant no insult in the comparison, my lady. I simply meant that you are cool-tempered and aloof and you wish to be left alone. You wish freedom from all encumbrances."

She lowered her gaze. "My demon has never asked for freedom."

"They rarely ask," said Cray. "They know what the answer would be." He held his goblet up and contem-plated the translucent color of the contents. "How would you get wine, after all, without a demon?"

"I could compel mortals to bring it to me."

"Another kind of slavery."

She looked up at him defiantly. "And how would you propose I do it?"

He sipped his wine before answering, savored it. Maretia, he thought-he would have to remember that name. "You could barter for it, as my mother barters for things she cannot make. A goblet like this ... "

He turned it in his hands. "A goblet like this, so finely crafted, so clear and perfect, would be worth a great deal at any king's castle. Or didn't you realize that?"

"No," she said. "I didn't."

"With your powers, you could make any number of beautiful things and trade them for everything you need. A demon would be quite superfluous."

She frowned. "But I need the demon anyway. It is my tutor."

"Your apprenticeship will end someday. Perhaps you might think of letting it go then."

"Letting it go?" She clutched at the pendant. "I've had it for such a short time." Puzzled, Cray said, "Surely you don't consider the greater part of your life to be such a short time."

She shook her head. "It belonged to my grandfather until last year. He commanded it. He dictated exactly what it would teach me, what it would feed me, how it would clothe me. I could ask, but he was the one that decided whether I would receive or not. But a year ago he gave it to me, and now I am the demon master. But a year is a short time."

"I was a demon master for far less than that," said Cray.

"I am not you," she said in a clear, strong voice. "And my demon is not your Gildrum. Perhapshe did care about his freedom. Perhaps, for the sake of your friendship, you did set him free. But my demon and I are not friends; we are master and slave. And as long as it remains useful to me, we shall remain so."

Yes,he thought.You are very like an Ice demon. Cool-tempered and aloof and quite self-centered.

He inclined his head. "I would not presume, my lady, to dictate how you should use your powers. The demon is indeed yours, for as long as you wish. Such is the meaning of that gem."

She let it go abruptly, as if it were hot. "I worked long and hard at my studies to win this prize. I value it."

"I'm sure you do." Cray's eyes focused on the pen-dant. The narrow silvery band about the gem would be inscribed on its inner surface with the demon's name. White gold, he thought; white gold for an Ice demon. "It is unusual for one sorcerer to give a de-mon to another. Even parent to child or master to apprentice. Knowing that, I would have guessed your demon to be of little value, young, weak ... except that it built this palace." His gaze swept the crystalline walls, the light-drenched ceiling, and he wondered how many rooms lay beyond them, wondered if Aliza even knew, or if she had stopped counting long since. "Ice demons are not generally valued for their con-structive talents. They can make ice and pile blocks of it into any structure a sorcerer might want, but in the human realm, a palace of ice would be a poor dwelling at best. It would have to be maintained through the warm weather, which would surely keep more than one Ice demon too busy for any other work. And all year round it would be unpleasantly cold, forcing its master to walk about muffled up in furs; he wouldn't dare light any but the smallest fire, or else his own walls would drip on him." Cray waved to encompass the room and the entire building.

"Yet here in Ice you seem to have found solutions to all these problems. The walls are solid and dry, and yet the air is comfortably warm. How is that managed?"

Aliza lifted her goblet. "Is this made of ice?"

Cray considered his own. It was cool to the touch, but not too cool, and smooth as fine glass. "No. If it were ice, the heat of my hand would start melting it."

"But it is," said Aliza. "It and the whole of this palace are made of the substance of Ice itself, but purified and transformed, just as the Ice demons themselves are. You could never melt an Ice demon with the heat of your hand, or even with a charcoal fire."

Cray turned the goblet slowly. "But how could fro-zen water become something like this?"

"The world of Ice is far more complex than mere frozen water. It contains many substances, and they can be drawn out individually at need, by one who knows the proper methods."

"And you know the proper methods?" She inclined her head. "I am studying them, among other things. Someday, I shall be able to direct the growth of this building rather than merely watch it grow at its own random whim. I shall be able to obtain any materials I wish directly from Ice itself rather than from the substance of my palace. I shall be able to construct anything I like in Ice, even to reorganize its very structure."

"Those are high goals indeed," said Cray.

"Not too high for me."

"You will be able to manipulate Ice as an Ice demon could."

"Better," said Aliza.

Cray wondered if she understood where she aimed. She said she needed only one demon slave, yet if she gained so much power over Ice itself, she would have effective command of all of them. Their entire world would be her hostage. And no sorcery of his could set them free. The only way to do that would be ... to kill her.

He found himself frowning mightily, and he drank a deep draft of his wine to hide the expression from her. When he lowered the goblet at last, he had fixed a smile on his face, and though it felt unreal to him, he thought she would probably not be able to perceive that. "All of this from one demon," he murmured.

"The proper sort of demon," she said. "An old and experienced one, a powerful one. Not weak at all, you see."

"I see."

"It tells me I have much talent for this kind of study."

"And, of course, all the perseverance necessary."

"Of course."