In his mailed hand he held a gleaming, wicked knife. A kitchen knife.

The girl hiccupped in terror, and almost choked on a sob that wrenched up from deep within her.

Drago could hear Faraday screaming, but he could not see her, and he could not free himself from the dream, nor could he move to aid her.

The black armoured man stepped to the girl's side - Run, run, run! Drago screamed at her, but she was so stricken with terror she could not move.

- and seized the girl's glossy brown curls in his left hand, . 190 *

jerking her head back to expose the slim whiteness of her throat.

Then the knife slashed through the air, and all Drago could see and taste and feel was the thick redness of life pouring forth from the girl's throat, and - He jerked awake, sitting upright and staring about wildly. Beside him Faraday was screaming in her sleep, throwing herself from side to side, her hands reaching up and groping uselessly into the air above her.

Drago heaved in a great breath, orientating himself out of the dream, and turned to Faraday. He lifted a hand, intending to wake her from the nightmare, when her eyes flew open. She stared at Drago, and then, before he could stop her, she leapt to her feet, dived through the tent flap, and ran outside.

Into the terror of the night.

"No/" Drago screamed and, without any thought, ran after her.

He felt the cold fingers of the Demonic terror intrude into his mind as soon as he left the safety of the tent.

Faraday was a pale shape struggling on the ground several paces away, the wind whipping her hair about, her hands groping at the ground about her.

She was screaming uncontrollably.

Drago knew that madness was only an instant away, and he knew it had already claimed Faraday, but all he could think of was that he had to reach her, that somehow he needed to be with her before he lost his own mind completely.

The cold fingers dug deeper and more agonisingly into his mind, and Drago screamed and threw himself on Faraday's struggling body.

In her fright and horror she instinctively hit him, and Drago caught at her hands, rolling himself atop her and pinning her hands down to the ground.

"Faraday!" he yelled above the storm of madness about them. "Faraday, it is only me! Drago! Please, be still, please ... please ..."

191.

She ceased to struggle and stared at his face a handspan above hers, and suddenly Drago realised that he stared into the eyes of a woman who was terrified beyond measure . . .

. . . but sane.

"Faraday?" he whispered. "Faraday?"

The cold fingers of terror continued to probe at his mind, but Drago slowly realised that although they probed and probed - and stung horribly in that probing - they could not enter.

His mind was still his.

As was Faraday's.

"Why?" she whispered. "Why are we safe?"

He laughed softly, not caring that the fingers still pushed and prodded at his mind, but revelling in his - and her - strange immunity.

The Demons could not touch them.

"I don't know," he whispered back. "And I do not particularly care why."

At that moment, staring into each other's eyes, both forgot the girl and her terrified cries for help, as they forgot the winds of terror howling about them and the thick tendrils of grey miasma that clung to their clothes and hair.

Very, very slowly Drago lowered his head and kissed Faraday.

She closed her eyes, accepting his kiss, and then from nowhere came the memory of Drago swearing that nothing, nothing, was to get in the way of his determination to save the land, and from that memory her mind leapt back forty years to the moment when Axis stood before her in Gorgrael's chamber and lifted not a finger to save her so that he, too, might save Tencendor.

She twisted her head away.

"No!"

Drago did not protest. He lifted himself from her and stood, holding a hand to help her rise.

Reluctantly she accepted his aid.

192 "Why?" she repeated. "Why aren't we mad?"

Drago stared about him. The night landscape seemed to be in the grips of a fatal insanity.

The air itself was alive, twisting and writhing and roping under the Demon Rox's influence. A small rabbit, caught outside its burrow, was winding and contorting in a dance of madness, chewing at its own paws and dribbling thick saliva down the matted fur of its chest. Somewhere a dog howled and screamed, and then gurgled into quietness.

And yet here he and Faraday stood, their minds aching from the insistent probing of the Demon, and yet safe.

Why?

Why?

Slowly Drago turned his face to the east.

Far away Rox turned and stared across the western Skarabost Plains. There was something wrong. Something . ..

different.

He sent his senses reeling out across the land.

There! A man and a woman, standing close together in the night, their minds invulnerable.

The man was staring at him, as if he could somehow see him so far to the east.

Who? Who?

Why? Why? Why?

Slowly Rox turned his eyes back to his east. There the StarSon was, walking into the dark trap, so who was this to the west? Who? Who?

Why?

He sent a message screaming through the night to the Hawkchilds: It seems we have a stray magician or two to the west. Find them. Find out why they can resist us. And then kill them.

193.

22.Arrival at the Minaret Peaks They arrived in Arcen by late afternoon the next day. The mayor greeted them enthusiastically, begging for news, hope, anything ...

"I am sorry," StarDrifter said. "We know little, but what we do we would be happy to share. Perhaps over dinner ...?"

The mayor apologised, embarra.s.sed at his lack of civility, and bustled StarDrifter and Zenith into his townhouse. His servants laid out a good meal, and the mayor and his wife were pleasant and entertaining conversationalists, but StarDrifter and Zenith spent the time far more aware of each other than of the mayor.

"You must be tired!" the mayor eventually declared, as his guests lapsed once more into silence. He clapped his hands. "Let my servants show you to your rooms."

They had separate but adjoining rooms, and Zenith was not surprised to hear the gentle knock at her door after an hour.

"Come in," she called softly.

"I missed you," StarDrifter said as he closed the door behind him. "Even the feather bed is not enough compensation for the lack of your company."

Zenith smiled awkwardly. This was so strange, so uncomfortable. She felt as if he thought she should just invite him straight into her bed, she knew that was what he wanted, and maybe she should do that, but - * 194.

"I just came to say goodnight, Zenith," StarDrifter said, watching the play of emotions over her face.

She nodded, relaxed, then smiled. "Goodnight, StarDrifter."

Then, suddenly bold, she walked up to him, put her hands on his chest - his skin was so warm! - and kissed his mouth softly. She leaned back slightly, but she did not step back, and she did not take her hands from his chest.

Feeling certain that the time for hesitancy was past, StarDrifter slid his hands into her hair, pulled her close, and kissed her again. She tensed slightly, but did not pull back, and so StarDrifter held her tight against his body, and let both hands and mouth grow bolder.

More than anything else Zenith wanted to be able to accept StarDrifter as a lover - it was why she'd been bold enough to kiss him - but now she fought to keep still as unwelcome images tumbled through her mind. StarDrifter gently chiding her when she was a child, and holding on to her chubby arms as she learned to walk. WolfStar's harsh kisses, the sc.r.a.pe of teeth and rasp of tongue against her neck. StarDrifter rescuing her from the cliff face, and telling her he'd always be there to catch her. WolfStar's repulsive rape, feeling him force himself inside her body - She pulled back.

"I won't hurt you," StarDrifter said. "I won't."

"I know," she whispered, feeling even more the failure. "I know you won't. . . but..."

"But?"

"But it just doesn't feel right," she said.

StarDrifter reached out a hand and stroked her cheek. "I can wait," he said, planted an undemanding kiss on her forehead, and walked from the room.

Zenith stared at the door, then turned and looked at the bed.

A tear slowly ran down one cheek.

195.

Two days later, Zenith and StarDrifter arrived at the colonnades and spires of the Icarii city nestled in the forests and ridges of the Minaret Peaks.

What they found shocked them.

To avoid the deadly miasma of the Demons, they'd had to approach via the forest paths rather than drop down from the sky - the infinitely more preferable way for any Icarii to approach the city. They initially a.s.sumed that the sense of gloom they experienced as they approached was due to their restricted flight underneath the trees. But the instant they'd alighted before the entrance to the Talon's palace they had to rea.s.sess their initial a.s.sumption.

"Why is it so dark?" Zenith said, drawing her wings in close against her back and hugging her arms about her.

StarDrifter hesitated before answering.

"I should have expected this," he murmured, and Zenith looked at him.

"Expected what? Why?"

In answer StarDrifter took her by the elbow and led her under the great pink stone archway. A long corridor stretched before them, and Zenith frowned. In previous visits she remembered this corridor as glowing with soft light, and pleasantly warm.

Now rank torches sputtered fitfully down its length, and chill air swept out to envelop them.

The corridor was empty of all life. Where the guards? Where the always hovering servants ready to provide a welcome for unexpected guests?

StarDrifter stood and stared, and felt an inexpressible sadness sweep over him. He knew what was wrong, but because he hadn't thought through the full implications of the Demons' effects on the daily lives of the Icarii, he'd not been prepared for this sight.

"StarDrifter?" Zenith said, and he turned and half-smiled rea.s.suringly at her. She was unsure, and nervous, and StarDrifter's heart went out to her. He ran his hand softly 196'.

along her arm and gently disengaged one of her hands from her tightly-crossed arms and cradled it in his own.

"There has always been so much we took for granted," he said. "So much."

He sighed and looked back down the corridor. "Why no light? No warmth? Because for thousands of years the Icarii have relied on their Enchanters to weave light and warmth from the Star Dance."

"Oh," Zenith said, and then shivered. "This place feels like a tomb."

"It might well become one," StarDrifter said. "Come, let us find a friendly face."

As they walked through the outer corridors and halls, StarDrifter contemplated the potential ruin of Icarii life with sadness and, he was surprised to realise, more than a little cynicism. For too long, perhaps, no Icarii had ever soiled his or her hands with agricultural pursuits, for had they not always had Enchanters who could coax the most delicious of foods into existence with merely a breath of Song? No Icarii had ever chopped wood, nor lugged it about the corridors of Talon Spike or their Minaret Peaks, nor had they spent their mornings choking as they cleaned out their ash-filled hearths; always there had been enchantment to provide them with clean glowing braziers. No Icarii had ever scorched his or her hand on a hot pot, or a wayward candle, or cursed the hours spent peeling vegetables in a cold kitchen. Their lives had been spent in pleasurable pursuits, whether physical sports and games, challenging intellectual conundrums or the ever-appealing pursuit of love.

Now enchantment had disappeared from their lives, and the Icarii were obviously finding it hard to cope with the most simple demands of daily life.

As they walked down the cold corridor, StarDrifter's thoughts drifted from the Icarii's ever-appealing pursuit of love to his own problems with Zenith. He glanced at her walking quiet at his side. Since Arcen, StarDrifter had been 197.

careful not to scare Zenith by pushing her on the issue of their relationship. He hadn't realised how badly Zenith had been scarred by WolfStar's rape, but now that he did know, StarDrifter was determined to give Zenith the time and s.p.a.ce she needed. She loved him, she'd admitted that, and there was no Axis lurking in the wings to steal this woman from him, and so, somewhat uncharacteristically, StarDrifter was prepared to bide his time.

His thoughts meandered, wondering what it would be like when Zenith finally did come to his bed . . .

"Watch where you're going!" a hoa.r.s.e, unknown voice cried.

Zenith gave a sharp cry of surprise and wrenched StarDrifter to one side.

StarDrifter blinked, concentrated on the moment rather than the wishful, and then his eyes widened in surprise.

He and Zenith had rounded a bend in the corridor to meet a group of four Avar and a male and female Icarii, all six now staring angrily at StarDrifter. There was an overturned basket and a dozen pieces of halo fruit scattered over the floor, and StarDrifter realised the group had been in the midst of an acrimonious argument over the possession of the crop of fruit the Icarii pair had obviously plucked from the Minstrelsea forest.