Take two thousand men with you to complement the Strike Force."

"By the time we get to the northern plains of Avonsdale with as many of the thousands that we can find,"

Theod said, "we will need vastly more than the Strike Force and two thousand men to protect them. Will you ride to meet us and bring a force of some few thousands?"

"Ah .. . sire?"

They looked about, surprised. Jannymire Goldman, Master of the Guilds of Carlon, was standing in the door.

"Sire? Sir Duke?" Goldman walked into the room, ignoring the looks of mild surprise on the faces before him. "Sir Duke? I believe I may be able to aid you."

"I have no room for a trading coterie, Goldman," Theod said.

Goldman bit down his temper. Over the past weeks he'd seen his beloved country reduced to tatters, his people in disarray and, worse, the extensive network of contacts he held across Tencendor virtually useless.

But not yet dead.

"Nevertheless, my lord," Goldman said, "I a.s.sume you will have need of rapid transport?"

317.

Theod stopped. "Transport?"

"How do you propose to reach those stranded in the north, sir Duke?"

Theod glanced at DareWing, then back to Goldman. "How would you propose to reach them, Goldman?"

"Sir Duke, there are two score merchant ships waiting in the ports of Nordmuth, Ysbadd and Pirates Town."

Unnoticed, Zared lowered his face into a hand. Why hadn't he thought of those ships!

"You would want to sail up the Nordra?" Theod said. "That would be c.u.mbersome at best. That many ships could not hope to navigate the Nordra safely at once, so it would take several relays of ships, and each relay would require some two weeks for the return trip. The men from the first two relays who had been disembarked in eastern Aldeni would be vulnerable to attack while they waited for the rest of the force to catch up. And after all of this, you could still only set us down ten days' ride away from the Murkle Mountains. It would be quicker to walk north to the Mountains."

"Not the Nordra. The Andeis Sea. Straight to the Murkle Mountains."

Zared looked up, wondering if hope did still exist.

DareWing drew in a sharp breath. "How long to get a force to the Murkle Mountains from Nordmuth?" the Strike Leader asked.

"Six days."

Theod stared at Goldman, thinking it would take him at least three weeks, if not four, to ride that far north.

"When can those ships be ready to sail?" he asked.

"We've had them ready for weeks, sir Duke," Goldman said. "I owed it to the Acharites to have some form of escape at hand."

Zared winced. "If you find the twenty thousand," he said, "you could sail many of them straight south for Coroleas. Carlon certainly cannot hold that many, and I profess myself 318 .

rather sick of waiting for Drago's Sanctuary to emerge from the grey sorceries that hang about us.

Goldman, how many could your fleet hold?"

"Twenty thousand, sire."

Everyone in the room relaxed. The Andeis would be horribly treacherous this time of year, and normally would never be considered, but better the threat of a sea storm than the maddening dangers of the plains of Tencendor.

Zared rose. "Good, Master Goldman. Again Achar owes you its thanks. Theod. I wish you every last remaining speck of luck in this land of ours."

Theod nodded, took Zared's hand, then turned for the door.

"Theod." Zared's soft voice halted him. "Theod, I hope you find Gwendylyr and your two boys safe and well." Theod nodded again, and then he, DareWing and Goldman were gone, and Zared sank down into his chair.

WolfStar sat in pitch blackness in an ancient conduit deep within the waterways. His fingers idly stroked the warm skin of the girl child in his lap, his wings drooped behind him, his eyes stared unfocused into the dark.

His thoughts consumed him.

Where were the Demons now? Well on their way to the Lake of Life, no doubt, but not close enough for WolfStar's liking. He'd arrived at this site close to the chambers beneath the Lake many days ago - and now he must needs wait, wait, wait for the Demons to take their own sweet time traversing the plains above.

More than anything WolfStar itched to throw the girl into the next power trap and infuse her body with breath and another spurt of growth, but he couldn't find the ancient site without the Demons to show the way.

And so now here he must linger. And hope that he could escape the Demons' attention at the Lake of Life as easily as he had at Cauldron Lake.

WolfStar's fingers continued to stroke the warmth of the child. Back and forth, back and forth, but driven by impatience now, rather than love.

In WolfStar's constantly shifting, plotting mind, Niah had become a tool rather than an object of love or even of desire.

His eyes sharpened, and he grinned into the darkness.

34.Poor, Useless Fool Drago was drowsing, lulled by the rhythmic swaying of Belaguez's gait, when the shadow swept over his face. His eyes jerked open instantly, and he drew his breath sharply in horror.

His slid a hand down to where Faraday's hands were clasped loosely about his waist.

She was heavy against his back, fully asleep, and unaware of the danger.

"Faraday!" he whispered fiercely.

She stirred.

"Faraday..."

"Mmm?"

"Whatever happens next, take my lead. Do you hear me? Take my lead!"

"But-"

"Where's the lizard?"

"Against my back. Why?"

"Make sure your cloak is covering him, and pray to the G.o.ds he doesn't move!"

"But-"

Faraday broke off as she saw what was circling down from the sky. "Oh, dear G.o.ds!" she whispered.

Drago's hand tightened briefly about hers. "Just follow my lead, Faraday, please."

321.

There was no time to say more. Belaguez sighed and halted, stopped by the dozen or so Hawkchilds now crouched in a semi-circle across the snow-swept path.

Belaguez's head drooped, his eyes closed, and he was asleep within a heartbeat.

The central Hawkchild, a small, black-eyed boy, took several hops forward and spoke with whispery accusation. "You were dead. We ate of your flesh. Why do you now walk, Drago?"

Drago gave a high-pitched giggle, as if nervous - which, in truth, was a reaction he did not have to feign.

"I don't know ... I felt the ... Questors ... tear me apart, use me for the leap . . . and then I woke up in the Star Gate Chamber."

The Hawkchild tilted his head to one side, and regarded Drago silently. Drago suddenly realised that everything it saw and heard was being relayed directly back to the Demons.

"You were a sack of bones," it said, and its head tilted back the other way.

Drago arranged his face into a sullen expression. "They said they would give me back my Icarii power, and they didn't."

The semi-circle of Hawkchilds edged closer, whispering, their heads tilting as one, first to this side, and then to that.

Several of them were flexing their hands at the tips of their wings. "Who is that with you?" one asked.

"This?" Drago shrugged disinterestedly. "A woman. She keeps me warm at night. I have not thought to ask her name."

He sighed. "She is not StarLaughter, but at least she is not dead."

"You wander unsheltered through the barren plains, Drago. How is it that you keep your minds?"

"I have no idea how I have kept my mind. As for her, well, she lost hers a hundred leagues to the south. I mean, look at her!"

The Hawkchilds peered closely at Faraday's face.

*322.

It was slack-jawed and vacant. A thin drool of saliva hung from lower lip to chin. Her eyes were closed.

Not even Faraday could have hidden either the fear or the intelligence in them.

One of the Hawkchilds stepped closer and lifted one of its wings. The fingers of the hand at its tip ran down Faraday's face. One of the hardest things Faraday had ever had to do in her life, as hard as keeping her sanity while wrapped in Gorgrael's talons, was to keep her face slack and relaxed at that moment.

"Do you want her?" Drago asked. "She's useful enough at night, but a bother to feed and keep moderately clean."

The Hawkchild lifted its wing and stroked Faraday's face again. Its head tilted curiously to one side, and a pink tongue glistened momentarily in its beak.

"You can have her if you want," Drago said, "although I'd have the bother of finding another one."

The Hawkchild switched its gaze to him, and it suddenly snarled. "You should be dead."

"Don't kill me!" Drago gibbered. "Don't kill me!"

The Hawkchild drew back its wings, and its head began a long, low sweeping movement . . . back and forth . . . back and forth ... as if seeking the best spot to attack first.

The others drew closer until Belaguez - still contentedly asleep - was completely ringed by rustling, whispering black-feathered Hawkchilds.

"Take her!" Drago screamed, and grabbed Faraday's arm as if he meant to hurl her from the horse. "Take her, but not me." The Hawkchilds drew closer.

"Take her! Take her! Please, please don't kill me!"

"The poor, useless fool," StarLaughter said. "Perhaps we should kill him and have done with it. Although ...".

"Although?" Sheol said, arching an eyebrow at her.

"It might be fun to play with him a little," StarLaughter said, and grinned. "And her."

323.

"I don't know that we should -" Rox began, and then every one of the Demons swivelled south-west and snarled.

"The magicians!" Barzula cried. "I can feel them."

StarLaughter watched her companions, puzzled .. . and then they thought to share with her what they saw and felt. Far away, somewhere just south of the Western Ranges, stood two white-clad figures staring north-east towards the Demons.

Power radiated off them in concentric ripples.

"Destroy them!" Sheol cried, and she was not meaning Faraday and Drago.

Drago didn't know what else he could do. He'd hoped to fool the Hawkchilds, and the Demons, into just letting himself and Faraday go (what else could he do?) with his act, but it wasn't working.

The Hawkchilds were drawing their net about the horse, their beaks snapping, their hands reaching, and then, just as Drago thought he'd have to try and defend them both with his staff . .. they leapt into the air, circled once, then sped south.

As they disappeared, he relaxed. "Faraday?"

"What did you mean," she hissed, "by asking, 'Do you want her'? What would you have done if they'd said, 'Why, yes, thank you'?"

"Faraday," he said, "I honestly have no idea."

When the .Hawkchilds, by dint of effort, and a good deal of power lent them by the Demons, arrived at the spot where the magicians had spied their way north-east, all they found was a herd of deranged cattle with two white donkeys running in their midst.

Hissing with disappointment, the Hawkchilds veered east, and then further south, trying to find the elusive magicians.