Cobalt
                         Prologue
    The leaves of the dyfrenin trees suddenly danced in 
the wind of a wild and exultant laughter.
    The Lady A'lkeli, who preferred to be called Lamara, 
lifted her arms and swayed slowly back and forth. Her 
lidless, lashless cobalt eyes gleamed with tears of 
release and love as they took in the dyfrenin trees, the 
algobi fruits, the soft, slanting blue and white sunlight. 
She thought she could feel the heat soaking into her skin 
and scales, infusing her with life and energy. She lowered 
her hands to her eyes, wiped away tears, and looked at 
them with a smile.
    And to be able to weep again, after so long in a form 
where she could not...
    The Runeworker slithered forward with one lash of her 
powerful tail, coming to the edge of a pool that gleamed 
up at her with opaline iridescence. By that, she knew it 
for ojashin, a liquid similar to water but making an even 
better mirror.
    And though she was eager for the first taste of the 
waters of her homeland, she wanted to see first what she 
looked like.
    The reflection peering back at her had the face she 
remembered, the face most Runeworkers had. The eyes shone 
a deep blue with ageless wisdom. The face itself seemed 
pushed forward, with a sharp chin and cheekbones, and 
there was a faint pebbling, as of scales, beneath the 
skin. Her "hair"- really linked strands of red-gold 
scales- fell lightly and easily around her shoulders. Her 
lipless mouth extended in a wide smile, and her forked 
tongue flickered out, one more expression of happiness.
    That was only as she had expected, though seeing that 
face again after a hundred years was wondrous enough. But 
what caught her was that she was only half as she 
remembered herself. From the waist down, she had the 
powerful coils of the snake she had been until just a few 
moments ago, banded in glimmering, brilliant patterns of 
scarlet and gold.
    Lamara shifted and swayed back and forth, absently 
running one hand over her waist, where skin joined scales. 
It would do, she decided at last. She had fairly ascended 
to the next level of power, and that meant that she had 
the right to look this way.
    Though it might surprise some people, when she 
appeared before them...
    Smiling wickedly, Lamara slid into the forest once 
more. This was not the brooding place it would become once 
night had fallen, or as close to true night as Lohtan ever 
got. Now, just after the double sunrise, it was a light 
and pleasant place full of life. Jeweled insects buzzed 
and fluttered around her, or alit on her bare shoulders 
for a moment before taking flight again. A bird called 
from somewhere in the undergrowth, a soft, melodious, 
repeated call that could quickly become irritating if one 
didn't take care.
    Not that Lamara minded. She was busy soaking up every 
sight and sound she could.
    Yet, even as she rejoiced in the wonders of her own 
world, she was looking for a quiet place where anything 
sentient was unlikely to disturb her. She found it at 
last, a softly sunken clearing abloom with the pink and 
green aljandrin flowers that most of her kind, and humans, 
were allergic to. Lamara arranged herself just so, tail 
coiled comfortably beneath and in front of her. Then she 
rested her hands on one coil and closed her eyes.
    The trick came back to her with almost no effort at 
all. Her mind reached out, calling, seeking. It was not 
like the telepathy of the world she had just come from. 
She was moving her consciousness briefly into another 
place, a plane higher than her own. The one she sought 
should feel her call and join her there.
    It was not long before she felt the fabric of the 
world tear and mend around her, and opened her eyes to 
find herself adrift in colored fog. In this world of the 
mind, she wore her more familiar two-legged form, clad in 
a familiar garment that fell from a cowl atop her head to 
a gown around her legs, all one piece. It drifted in an 
intangible wind, silky folds the color of the aljandrin 
flowers rippling.
    A figure soon appeared before her- like herself, two- 
legged. He wore the same garment she did, but seemed more 
upset about it, at least if the deep scarlet and blue 
colors of his attire were any indication.
    "Yes?"
    "Lord A'lernde," said Lamara, in the calmest voice she 
could muster. If what she suspected was true... "I have 
come back."
    "Yes? So?"
    "Are you not glad to see me?"
    "I do not know who you are."
    "The Lady Lamara A'lkeli Tyeje."
    There could be no mistaking the surprise in A'lernde's 
eyes, the flinch he made away from her, and the soft hiss 
that expressed his feelings, even here, more clearly than 
words could. Lamara hissed softly herself, but in 
amusement, not in concern.
    "Watch yourself, my lord."
    He was gone with no fanfare, and Lamara returned to 
herself, well-pleased. If she could only be assured that 
it would go that well when she stood before the A'l to the 
Rune...
    A scream rang through the forest, silencing the 
birdsong and causing the sensitive azure leaves of the 
dyfrenin trees to tremble and whisper indignantly.
    Lamara turned at once for the sound, hissing again, 
but this time in concern. She should have remembered....
    She only hoped he was not too angry.




                        Chapter 1
                           Loss
    "When loss cuts one, cast the loss back from mirrored 
walls."
    -Elwen Maxim, sometimes attributed to the Master of 
Sager, called the Mad Mage.

    Zar screamed again, and again. He knew he should stop. 
Who could say what lived and moved among these alien trees 
with their blue leaves and silvery-blue bark, or under the 
slanting shafts of incredibly warm sunlight? Something 
might hear him and come. He had had enough experience with 
certain predators of this world.
    But he could not seem to stop. Every time a bit of 
calm started to creep in again, the pain of his loss, the 
gaping hole within him, ached again, and he screamed. He 
was not sure what was worse, the pain itself or the 
feeling of helplessness.
    "Zar! Hush."
    The falcon Elwen turned, tears streaming from his 
eyes, to see Lamara writhing across the grass towards him. 
In his current state, he barely took notice of the fact 
that she was naked from the waist up, though at any other 
time the sight would have made him turn away, smooth and 
flat though her chest was. But now the thought was just 
one more log to add to the fire.
    Zar lifted one hand, which was long-nailed, in the 
manner of a falcon's claw. He stared at it, then reached 
over to rake it down his other arm. Pain exploded as the 
silver blood began to well from deep slashes. But he 
hadn't quite gotten the artery. He tried to do it again.
    Lamara's tail lashed out, catching his hand. "No," she 
said, gently but firmly. "Tell me what's wrong, Zar."
    That question brought the falcon Elwen somewhat back 
to normal, if only because he could turn some of the pain 
of his loss to anger, and focus it on her.
    "Wrong?" he spat. "You know very well what's wrong! 
You knew what would happen the minute we came to this 
damned world!" He stared around helplessly at the sky, 
which was so bright with sunlight that it didn't seem to 
have a color, looking in despair for some sign of the gate 
back to his own world. There was no sign, of course. Only 
Runeworkers could open gates from this side, just as only 
Elwens could open gates from Arcadia.
    Arcadia, where he had been whole, not a mere shadow of 
himself. He bit down on his lip to keep from crying out 
again.
    "Yes, Zar, I did know," murmured Lamara. Her tail 
dropped away from his arm, but she still watched him 
closely. "I thought that if I told you, you might not 
agree to come. And, after you were Runesworn, it didn't 
matter so much. I thought that, with that power, you could 
defend yourself. You can persuade people to leave you 
alone, after all, or know when they will strike; those 
were the Rune's gifts. I thought that, with them, it might 
not matter so much if-"
    "If I couldn't do anything else?" Zar's hands folded 
into claws, and he cast the next words at her with all the 
force he could, rage beating inside him like a vulture's 
wings. "My magic is gone."
    "I know."
    Part of his rage disappeared then, sucked into the 
well of implacable sorrow in her eyes. It was such an odd 
expression, he thought in a detached way. She was grieving 
for what she had done, true, but she was telling him that 
there was nothing that could be done about it. That came 
closer than anything else had to persuading him to accept 
it.
    But then the rage rose again, in a wave. A strangled 
cry of grief came from his lips, and he turned his face 
away. Without his magic, the ability to shapeshift and 
call wind, to speak to birds and curse an enemy, to farsee 
and to fly- especially to fly- he was nothing more than a 
dried husk. He was what a raisin was to a grape- not the 
fruit, sweet and whole, but the withered part, dry and 
disgusting.
    Once again, his claws went to work. He was barely 
aware that he was slashing himself steadily, mindlessly, 
trying for anything but life. He wanted to die with a 
strength of longing that frightened him. To fly into a 
realm where he could have his magic back again would be 
worth any price...
    "Zar!"
    Something cracked sharply across his face. Lamara, 
slapping him with hand or tail, trying to lure him back to 
life. Well, it wouldn't work! Zar turned his head away, 
dry heaving and sobbing at the same time, the deep, 
racking sobs of intolerable loss, intolerable grief.
    Fire suddenly glowed through the lids of his closed 
eyes, and pain that was not pain he had inflicted himself 
made him open those eyes.
    The red and gold bands of skin around his wrists, 
those bands that so perfectly echoed the colors of 
Lamara's scales and marked his swearing to the Rune, shone 
as if they were burning. They enclosed his arms like bands 
of molten metal, demanding an immediate reckoning. Zar 
groaned and looked around for water to thrust his hands 
into.
    But he couldn't see any. His vision was blurring, and 
he could not move even to one side or the other without 
swaying. He drew a deep breath of satisfaction and closed 
his eyes again. Perhaps he had cut an artery after all.
    Then the pain began to fade, distant and retreating in 
a few moments, gone altogether in a few more. Zar opened 
his eyes incredulously, already suspecting that he would 
see Lamara before him, fingers worked into a healing rune, 
glaring at him.
    Only the glare was right. The slashes in his arms were 
thinning silver lines because of the Rune-bands. Where the 
light and the pain like fire fell, the wounds closed and 
healed. There would be a mass of silvery scars there, Zar 
suspected, but no more than there already were from where 
he had cut himself to draw blood for the curses.
    Then it was done, and he sat there, staring at the 
expected mass of silvery lines. They encircled his arms 
like bracelets. 
    "Why?" he whispered.
    "Because the Rune takes care of Its own."
    Zar brought his head up sharply. Lamara swayed back 
and forth before him, her eyes reflecting a certain awe, 
and a compassion that was almost harder to deal with than 
anger or scorn.
    "The Rune will not allow you to commit suicide, Zar," 
said the Runeworker. "It takes care of Its own. You may 
not like what you have become in this world, but every 
Runesworn is needed. In Its name, will you agree to 
refrain from doing harm to yourself?"
    Zar shuddered convulsively, remembering the fire. Then 
he examined the ache inside himself, the absence of any 
magical power or ability but the two the Rune had given 
him.
    "I can't promise that," he whispered.
    Lamara glared again for a moment, then relented. "All 
right. I understand, Zar. You're used to thinking of 
yourself as a mage, even if you don't like the title. You 
want that back again, and not even as something unfairly 
taken from you. You want it as a starving human wants 
food, or a Runeworker peace from the Night. It's something 
so basic, so much a part of your life, that you have a 
right to take it for granted."
    Zar knelt there, staring up at her. She really does 
understand, one voice inside him said. And another 
shrilled betrayal: She didn't even warn me!
    "I'll come with you," he said at last, swallowing 
dryly and standing. His legs felt wobbly beneath him, and 
weariness dragged at him still, even after the magical 
healing. Along with the other, more active powers of his 
magic, he seemed to have lost the latent ones of Elwen 
endurance. "If only because I need a place to sleep and 
something to eat."
    "We'll get there soon," said Lamara carelessly, 
without saying where there might be, and turned to slither 
into the trees. Zar followed her, cautiously ducking 
beneath the overhanging branches of the trees. They drew 
back from him in turn, blue leaves rustling. It sounded 
almost like a disapproving murmur, he thought, and then 
cast that thought as a question to Lamara.
    "Yes," the Runeworker responded, smiling back at him. 
"The dyfrenin trees are sensitive to the emotions of 
sentient beings."
    Zar reached up a hand in cautious welcome. At once two 
or three branches descended to crowd each other for the 
space to nudge azure leaves into his palm. The touch was 
cool and faintly wet, like a drop of spring rain, and it 
tickled. Zar laughed aloud, forgetting for a moment about 
his magic. The dyfrenin trees promptly danced in delight, 
and one silvery branch brushed across his face.
    He brushed the branch aside to see Lamara glaring at 
him again, this time seemingly with less inclination to 
compassion and patience than before. 
    "Well? Are you going to stay here and play with the 
dyfronin, or are you going to follow me, so that we only 
have to spend one night out in this wilderness instead of 
the Rune knows how many?"
    Zar did speed up his steps, but only for a moment. 
Then he returned to the question he had been meaning to 
ask for a few minutes now. "Where are we going? Where do 
you think we can go, and where do you think we are?"
    "I don't know where we are."
    Zar halted and stared at her, then hissed, his hands 
flexing in the gesture he often used when he was angry. 
"Oh, that's just wonderful. We come into the middle of an 
utter wilderness, I trust you, and now you say that you 
have no idea where we are. That's just great. Why did you 
insist that we open the gate then? Why not wait until you 
thought that your world and mine were aligned, so that we 
were in a place that you recognized?"
    "It doesn't work that way." Lamara paused again, but 
only briefly, to gaze into a shimmering pool of- 
something. Zar was not going to call it water, not in this 
world, until he learned a bit more about what was possible 
and what wasn't. "Did you think that I do this so often 
that I could plan our arrival?"
    "I don't even have any idea how long you live, or how 
powerful you are," Zar told her. He wrapped his hands 
around his arms as coldness briefly touched him, and tried 
to raise his body temperature. Then he remembered that 
that was Elwen magic, too, and gave it up with a grimace. 
Then he saw that yet another tree, this one with spiny 
flowers and leaves that were even more silvery than the 
trunks of the dyfronin, was brushing against his arm. The 
cool touch had made him mistake it for the touch of a 
wind. He moved away, and turned his scowl at everything- 
the lack of magic, the tree, Lamara- back onto the 
Runeworker. "I thought you would know where on your world 
we were, at least. Surely Lohtan cannot be that vast."
    "Not so vast, no," Lamara agreed, her tail slowly 
calming. It had been lashing swiftly, a sign that he had 
come to recognize as signaling anger. "But there are many 
tracts of wilderness in the islands, left to the Night and 
the lesser creatures and things of that nature. We could 
be in any island. I would say that it's the A'lsahs Sea, 
because the dyfronin usually only grow there in such 
remarkable profusion, but beyond that, I can't be sure. 
I'm sorry," she said softly, when Zar continued to scowl 
at her.
    Zar looked away at last, around at the alien forest. 
The strange colors and the appearance of the plants only 
made him realize, more than ever, just how far he was from 
the world he had known all his life. "Well. Where are we 
going, then? Can you tell me that at least?"
    "Yes." Lamara's face softened a little. It was much 
easier to be sure of her emotions now that he could read 
her expressions. "I plan to go to the great city of 
Hewuener. That is the center of Runeworker civilization, 
or at least, insofar as we have what you think of a 
civilization. There, the A'l to the Rune lives. It will 
help me discover my enemy if anyone would."
    "You've talked about the A'l to the Rune before." Zar 
stepped away from the groping tree and over a glittering 
patch of undergrowth that looked more metallic than plant- 
like, as if it had been constructed rather than grown. 
"You said that you obey him- it, but I still don't really 
understand why. What right does it have to rule?"
    Lamara shrugged. "Because none of us really want to do 
it, I suppose. And because it is the repository of the 
Rune's power. That is what the title A'l means, you know: 
Heir. The Rune Itself has chosen it, which is one reason 
we refer to it as it. The Rune is the most important thing 
about the A'l. The Rune's power renders all distinctions 
such as gender unimportant."
    Zar nodded, and then leaped in startlement as his gaze 
fell on the pool that Lamara had passed a moment earlier. 
The shimmer of the surface was like nothing he had ever 
seen, except on oil. But this liquid was a clear, almost 
silvery color, not black, and it had none of the sickly 
smell he associated with oil. It just happened to be 
overlaid with shimmering rainbows.
    "Ojashin," said Lamara, almost in his ear. Zar looked 
up- for in this form, she was taller than he was- to see 
her tongue flickering in amusement as she studied him. 
"Pretty to look at, but I wouldn't recommend drinking it- 
unless you want your throat burned out and your brain 
poisoned."
    "Why?" Zar stared again at the surface of the pool. He 
thought it must tempt many people to touch it.
    "It's our world's analog to mercury, I suppose," said 
Lamara, without really seeming very interested. "It's 
poisonous, that's all I really know. That's always been 
the Lady A'lsaras's province, not mine. Now, come on. When 
we can see the sea, I'll have a better idea of where we 
are, and how to get us to Hewuener."
    Zar followed her slowly, glancing back at the ojashin 
often. It sparkled innocently in the sun, and looked like 
nothing so much as water scattered with alfar dust. He 
wondered if there were creatures that drank it, or fed on 
it, naturally, and if so, what kind of creatures they 
would be like. He shuddered at the thought, and looked 
away from the pool.
    To take his mind off that, he looked up as they passed 
through a clearing. The blue and white sunlight stabbed at 
his eyes, and he could already feel himself panting and 
sweating in his fairly heavy clothes. He wished he could 
still fly, to get into the upper airs, where he might at 
least get a cooling breeze.
    Starhell, he wished he could still fly at all, period.
    "What are the names of the suns?" he asked, to 
distract himself from the aching pain of loss and the more 
dangerous and frightening questions that seemed to 
accumulate in his mind.
    Lamara glanced back again, this time seeming mildly 
annoyed at being interrupted. She seemed to be tracking 
something through the wild, bizarre growth of this forest, 
although Zar had no idea what it could be. "My dear Zar, 
why should we need names for them? They are the suns, the 
Blue and the White. That's quite enough for any sensible 
person."
    Zar hissed under his breath. Here, in her own world, 
the arrogance that had been Lamara's defining feature when 
he first met her seemed to be reasserting itself. "Lamara, 
I only asked-"
    "I know why you asked. You want to learn as much about 
Lohtan as possible, because you are frightened of it. But 
you shouldn't be, Zar. This will be your world for a 
while, and you mustn't be afraid of it." Lamara spoke 
soothingly, as one would to a child.
    Zar let some of the anger that came from the deception 
he had not quite forgiven her for shine in his eyes. "I 
only asked because we have one sun, and we have named 
that." Uunul, which filled the sky with proper golden 
light, beautiful golden light, and which he might never 
see again. "I would consider any people who did not have 
names of some kind for their suns to be lacking in 
imagination."
    For a moment, their eyes met. Lamara's were haughty in 
the extreme, but Zar could sense her demeanor softening. 
Perhaps she was remembering that, but for this man, she 
wouldn't have gotten home at all.
    "I can give you the human names for them, if you want 
them," she offered at last.
    Zar nearly made a face- in his world, humans were the 
enemies of Elwens, and had waged a war lasting centuries 
against them before calming down. But, he thought 
suddenly, they felt more akin to him now than Lamara did 
at this moment. He even had some idea of how they must 
have felt, suddenly stumbling from one world into another, 
entirely new one.
    He nodded, once and quickly.
    "The blue one is Gimbolon," said Lamara, her voice 
very level and entirely neutral, this time as if she were 
giving the child a rather boring history lesson. "And the 
white one Marra."
    "Thank you."
    "I could give you the legends of them as well, if you 
would like-"
    "That will be enough."
    Lamara's cobalt eyes flared, but then she nodded very 
slightly and turned away again.
    Zar decided to ignore her for a while, and concentrate 
on the beauties of the forest around him. There were some 
too alien to appreciate, but many were like enough to the 
plants and animals of his homeland that he could make 
admiring noises, at the least, over them.
    There was one sad-faced animal that appeared suddenly 
from a clump of bushes and cantered towards them, its coat 
of shaggy white wool flapping around it. Zar wondered how 
it could be covered so under the light of the twin suns 
without sweating to death, but as it neared, he saw that 
the wool was more like silk, very loose and light, not 
really dense at all. It halted in front of him and sniffed 
his boots and hips very lightly, even though it was nearly 
as tall as he was at the shoulder and this meant it had to 
bend its head. Then it stared him in the face for a 
moment, and whirled to canter back into the undergrowth.
    Jeweled insects, or flyers of some kind- their wings 
reflected and refracted the sunlight so well that Zar 
could see no sign of their bodies in the blaze of light- 
followed them for some distance. They seemed especially 
attracted to Lamara, but they buzzed around him as well. 
Their noise was strangely pleasant to the ear, as if it 
had a faint melodic undertone that was not quite audible. 
Zar found himself smiling, and encouraging them to sit on 
his Rune-marked wrists- the only place they would alight- 
for as long as they cared to.
    There were the dyfrenin trees, of course, and those 
cheered Zar the most. The swayed and danced all around 
him, now and then brushing their leaves across his face or 
tossing their branches towards the sunlight as if they 
were rejoicing with him. They were the one piece of 
Lohtanian wildlife that Zar thought he would like to 
transplant to Arcadia.
    He knew so many people, himself included, who could 
use something like this...
    They broke free of the forest with startling 
abruptness. They stood on the edge of the island, 
apparently, by a sea with waters so perfectly blue and 
clear that Zar found his eyes tearing. The A'lsahs Sea, he 
guessed at once.
    Lamara nodded as if she had heard his thoughts, which 
she might have. She looked a little more relaxed now, he 
thought. At least, her tail had stopped twitching. "We 
should wait here until I can get a fix on the place that 
Hewuener is now, and transport us there," she explained to 
Zar.
    Zar was more than glad to sink into the soft grass- 
not really grass, but a sort of combination of grass and 
moss- but he could not help asking a question. "What do 
you mean, where Hewuener is now? Isn't it always in the 
same place?" Please don't tell me that that has changed, 
too, he prayed inside. Not the very physical laws that 
bind one place to another.
    But Lamara shook her head absently, her eyes fastened 
on the water of the Sea, apparently not hearing his 
prayer. "No. Hewuener is on the Circle, which shifts and 
turns at the whim of the A'l to the Rune. It is on the 
rim, of course, not in the center, for the center is 
sacred to the Rune, and only the most favored of us can go 
there. I must find out when it will rotate towards the 
A'lsahs, so that I can find out when it will be safe to 
use the runes to take us there." She bent down to gather 
some of the water in her hands and lift it to her lips, 
where she took a long drink.
    Zar watched her longingly, but did not dare try to 
ease his thirst with saltwater.
    "What's the matter?" Lamara asked when she noticed him 
sitting there. She scooped up another handful of water and 
held it out to him. "It's fresh."
    Zar looked at her incredulously, then sniffed. His 
sense of smell, at least, had not deserted him. He could 
smell the water, and it was indeed fresh and sweet. Still, 
he hesitated, old tales of the power that water might have 
in other places running through his mind.
    Wasn't there some kind of story that if one drank the 
water or ate the food of a magical place, one was ever 
after bound there?
    "Oh, drink," said Lamara impatiently, and held it out 
to him.
    Zar hesitated, then did so. The water slid down his 
throat in one cold swoop, so sweet that he immediately 
leaned over and drank more. Then he splashed his face with 
some, and he thought it left his skin cleaner than the 
finest scrubbing sand would.
    Lamara turned back to the water, and Zar reclined on 
the springy grass-stuff, ignoring the grumbling hunger in 
his belly. Even if he were now no more hardy than a human, 
that meant he could at least go a few more days before he 
had to eat. And he didn't think Lamara wanted to be 
disturbed right now.
    "That's it!" she said suddenly, and Zar opened his 
eyes again.
    "What is?"
    Lamara turned back to him, smiling, her tail tapping 
the ground. "The Circle will reach the point we need at 
noon tomorrow."
    Zar looked doubtfully up at the suns, marveling once 
again at the heat and clarity of their light. "How can you 
tell when it reaches noon here?"
    "Oh, I say that only because there's no better 
translation for it in your language," said Lamara, with a 
flip of her hand that seemed careless, the first 
meaningless move she had made since they arrived. "I'll 
know, believe me."
    Zar nodded uncertainly and lay back down. He still 
wasn't sure whether he should trust her, but it seemed 
that he didn't have much choice.
----------------------------------------------------------
    Zar awoke to a hand prodding him, and a fruit hitting 
his face. Spluttering, he sat up, and wiped the meat and 
juice off his cheeks, automatically catching the remains 
of the fruit as it dropped. The color of the skin was an 
unfamiliar mingling of purple and blue, one shading into 
the other like the coloring of a bruise. Zar tried to put 
the comparison out of his mind as he bit in. The taste was 
good enough, sweet but with a tang that stung his mouth 
like lemon.
    "Did you have to do that?"
    Lamara glanced absently up from the sea, where she was 
once again watching her reflection, as far as Zar could 
tell. "What? Oh. The runes catapulted it in, not me." She 
turned back to the sea as if nothing could be more 
interesting in the world.
    Zar examined the sunlight, trying to estimate how long 
he had slept, but then shook his head. The angle of the 
light might have changed a bit, but it was still too 
bright. He couldn't tell how much the suns had moved.
    He was finishing his second fruit, and looking around 
for a place where he might relieve himself without 
damaging the plants or getting them upset at him, when a 
wind seemed to pass through the dyfronin. Their leaves 
bobbed and dipped in agitation, and a hiss moved through 
them that did not seem all the product of the wind. Lamara 
jerked her head up at once, listening.
    Zar swallowed the last bite in his mouth and looked at 
her steadily. "What is it?"
    A terrified cry broke from an island a short distance 
away, as if in answer. The dyfronin there swayed as though 
something were about to uproot them, and then swung their 
branches away from a stumbling man.
    Human, Zar saw at once, and smelled. The stink of 
sweat and terror brought to him by a too-helpful breeze 
made him wrinkle his nose. It was followed fairly quickly 
by the sweet, coppery scent of crimson blood.
    The man stumbled to a halt at the water's brink, 
gasping for breath. He lifted his head, turning it toward 
them, and Zar saw that dozens of slashes, both large and 
small, marred his face. It was a wonder that he could 
still see, so copiously and quickly did the blood well 
from the cuts above his eyes.
    Zar was on his feet at once, spreading his wings. Then 
he remembered that he couldn't fly across the narrow 
channel separating the two islands, which once would have 
been just a hop for him, and stopped, hissing in 
frustration.
    Lamara's hands rose, and her fingers began to flicker 
through the precise, timed motions of runes. The human let 
out a sob of gladness and extended a trembling hand.
    "Thank you, thank you. Please help me. I think that my 
other people-"
    A roar sounded from the trees behind him, a sound that 
made the dyfrenin trees shudder and cower in on each 
other, if trees could cower. The human threw a terrified 
glance over his shoulder and started shouting for them to 
hurry.
    Zar looked over at Lamara, and to his astonishment saw 
her dropping her hands. Her face was quiet and empty.
    "What are you doing?"
    She looked at him with a kind of distant surprise. "I 
thought that man was Runesworn. I see now that he is not, 
and that means that I have no compulsion to help him." She 
looked back into the water, then reached up to adjust her 
scaly hair.
    Zar stared at her, then looked back at the man. The 
human was sobbing unashamedly now, cringing and clinging 
to the corner of the island he was on, obviously terrified 
of both the water and his unseen pursuer.
    Zar looked up, at the trees that were not dyfronin, 
and judged how hard they swayed, trying to ignore the 
sounds from so short a distance away. Then he once more 
eyed the distance across the channel. Perhaps twenty-five 
feet, perhaps a little more. He reached out and extended a 
sense of his own urgency and terror towards the nearest 
dyfrenin.
    The tree bent almost double, allowing him to climb 
into the supple upper branches.
    Lamara looked up at him in surprise, but said nothing. 
Perhaps she didn't think that he would really do it; 
perhaps she thought Elwens hated humans too much.
    Or perhaps she thought that, Runesworn, he should just 
ignore the man.
    Zar spread his wings, and gave the dyfrenin one more 
mental prod.
    The tree snapped upward, the branches swaying and 
dancing all about him. The incredible power launched Zar 
into the air. His open wings caught a hunt of the wind, 
and he flapped madly as he rose toward the apex of his 
impromptu leap.
    Most of falcon Elwen flight was magic, but not all. If 
he could just glide over to the man's side of the 
channel...
    He began to fall, all too soon. But the wind remained 
strong and steady, singing in his primaries, now and then 
jolting him towards the sky again. He was heavy, but the 
fall was a controlled one, a long swoop straight toward 
the human.
    The man looked up, then buried his head in his arms.
    Zar didn't blame him. He had seen no large winged 
predators in this world so far, and the sight of him must 
be at least as terrifying to the man as anything else. Or 
perhaps it was just general fear that made him react so to 
someone who was trying to help him.
    Either way, it didn't matter. Zar's wings snapped, and 
then he was over, landing beside the man just as his 
pursuer burst from the undergrowth. Zar staggered to 
absorb the shock, but kept one eye on the creature in 
horrified disbelief.
    It stood taller than he did, or at least the sleek, 
horse-like head on the end of the slender, swaying neck 
did. The body, that of a great hunting cat, was low-slung 
and probably not much bigger than a cougar's. But the 
glittering black wings that enfolded it, the neck, and the 
steam boiling from its mouth made the creature resemble 
some unholy conglomeration of horse, dragon, and hunting 
cat.
    The human shrieked beside him. Zar hardly cared. If he 
could only get a hold on those mad red eyes...
    He did, and the hunter stopped, confused. It rumbled a 
warning growl, and claws that glimmered like giant daggers 
folded and unfolded from one paw. The bubbling steam 
increased in frequency and heat. But it did not move, 
trapped by the power that the Rune had granted Zar. If he 
could only find his enemies' eyes, he could speak in a 
voice that was sure to persuade them there was some better 
course.
    "Go, brother." His skin crawled at speaking the title 
to an animal that was no natural animal- though perhaps it 
was, here- but he said it anyway, in a voice both firm and 
kindly. "There is no prey for you here, nothing that you 
need to survive."
    The creature, so black that it hurt his eyes to look 
at it, rumbled once more and sat back on its haunches. 
Zar's empathy told him that it was confused, sorely 
hungry, and on the verge of either obedience or a charge.
    "Go in peace, brother," Zar said, his eyes never 
leaving the red ones. Never even blinking; the Rune had 
granted him that much. "There is no food here."
    The creature uttered a huffing snarl, accompanied by a 
puff of steam, and then turned and bounded back into the 
forest. The dyfronin shuddered away from its passage, and 
then once again were still.
    Zar took a deep breath, gently recovering from his use 
of the Rune-magic, and then staggered as the human clapped 
him on the back.
    "Thank you," the man said, his hazel eyes glowing in 
the slanting sunlight. His coppery skin shone, too, with 
sweat, blood, and the sheen that comes from life won back 
from the edge of death. "You saved my life. Would you care 
to come and do what you can for the people of my duk'tun?"
    Zar, not having any idea of what a duk'tun was or what 
the man thought he might be able to do, was opening his 
mouth to politely refuse when a stormcloud of Runeworker 
fury descended on them. Zar staggered to his knees, hands 
defensively over his ears. Lamara's anger sounded to his 
empathy as a deafening siren.
    "How dare you!" It was impossible to tell from those 
words whether she was focusing on him or on the human, but 
it came clear with her next. "How dare you request the 
help of workers of the Rune, whom you know are forbidden 
from interfering with you lesser creatures!"
    Zar jumped back to his feet as soon as he could and 
hurried over to Lamara. She was berating the man for all 
she was worth, swelling in front of him, her tongue 
darting back and forth and her tail dancing like an 
agitated snake's. She had the magic to cross the water 
easily enough when she wished, an ironic part of Zar noted 
as he pushed forward to confront her.
    "Enough, Lamara."
    Her baleful eyes turned away from the human and upon 
him. For a moment, Zar would have sworn he could see a red 
glow in them, deep and strong and dangerous as the light 
in the eyes of the creature he had just turned away. "Why 
do you say that?"
    "In ignorance of the laws of this world and in good 
faith, I helped him," Zar replied, stepping between the 
Runeworker and the once-more-frightened human. "If you 
offer up any punishment, it should be me who takes it, not 
him."
    Lamara glared. The red light moved into the forefront 
of her eyes, overwhelming the blue, and though Zar had on 
occasion wished that she did not have blue eyes, he found 
the effect frightening. "He knew I was a Runeworker. He 
called to me for help anyway."
    "And is that a crime? He feared for his life, and he 
had reason to."
    "Rune magic is for creatures of the Rune alone, Zar. 
The Rune declared long ago that we were not to intervene 
in the affairs of those who were not Its children, and we 
have kept that vow."
    "Unless you need them," Zar muttered, remembering 
times when Lamara had healed him or others. "Or when it 
would look suspicious if you didn't use any magic. Isn't 
that so?"
    Lamara's face flushed, or seemed to. Blood rushed to 
her face, deepening the peachy color of her skin. "Don't 
you see? That was different. We were on Arcadia then, a 
wild world where the laws of the Rune are neither strong 
nor steady, and a different kind of magic holds sway. We 
are in Lohtan now, and you must promise to respect the 
laws of the Rune just as the rest of us do."
    "He saved my life!" the human interrupted. It occurred 
to Zar to wonder for the first time how the human could 
understand him. He spoke no tongue that the man knew, he 
was certain, but the human obviously understood- and his 
words were perfectly intelligible to Zar, as well. "I 
thought that your Rune stood for life, not death. In what 
way is saving a life evil?"
    Lamara stared at him, then turned away and slithered 
into the forest with a hiss. Zar hesitated, wondering if 
he should follow her or accompany this human to his 
duk'tun. 
    "I'm not much of a healer," he felt compelled to say.
    "My people will need to look at the one who saved my 
life," said the man in a strong voice. "They either do not 
need healing help or are beyond it, but they will take joy 
in the fact that the life of Awheneth Alol was not lost. 
And they will want to see the hero who saved him."
    Zar covered his embarrassment by studying the man, who 
was obviously some sort of leader for this duk'tun. He was 
taller than the humans Zar was used to dealing with, 
almost as tall as the Elwen, and ruddier. His hair shone 
with the sleek black of the hunter's fur, and his hazel 
eyes looked almost like an elf's in their depth of both 
serenity and welcome. He carried no weapons that Zar could 
see.
    Nor did he seem to be in pain, despite the scratches 
on his face. Come to think of it, Zar thought, staring at 
the scratches, those were too small to have been made by 
the claws of the beast he had saved Awheneth from. They 
had to have come from something else.
    Awheneth stopped to pluck a small plant that Zar had 
barely noticed hiding in the grass-moss at his feet. Like 
the similar hide-a-bloom of Arcadia, it had purple flowers 
and slightly spiky leaves. Awheneth smeared this casually 
on his cuts, by the simple expedient of crushing one of 
the leaves to a paste. Even as Zar watched, the cuts began 
to close, if not heal. They probably still pained the 
human quite badly, and would leave scars, but they did not 
bleed anymore.
    Awheneth cocked his head curiously as he observed 
Zar's reaction. "What is the matter? Have you never seen 
magic before?"
    Zar shook his eyes from the quickly closing cuts. "Not 
that, but I am not used to seeing it work so fast. And I 
thought that no powers but those of the Rune and the Night 
held sway here. I do not think that that plant is of 
either."
    "No," the man agreed. "There is no telling where some 
of the magic of Lohtan comes from- what did you say your 
name is?"
    "Zar Feathermaster," Zar said, deciding it could do no 
harm. The only Runeworker who knew of him, besides Lamara, 
and would have reason to be hostile, was probably far away 
in this Hewuener that Lamara had spoken of. Certainly he 
had no hidden enemies waiting here.
    Awheneth's eyes widened as he noticed the Rune-bands 
on Zar's wrist, as if for the first time. "But you are not 
from this world! And are you not to accompany your 
friend?" He turned to stare in the direction that Lamara 
had gone, as if Zar needed help in finding her.
    Zar took a deep breath, and decided that the decision 
he had made almost unconsciously would be the best one to 
follow. "I am confident that she can find me at any time. 
And I am eager to see this duk'tun of yours. May I come 
with you?"
    "Of course, Zar." The man's voice stumbled just a 
little on that unfamiliar combination of sounds, allowing 
the first trace of an accent into whatever mysterious 
magic let them understand each other. "But I fear that 
your companion will return for you. Perhaps she expected 
you to follow?"
    Zar closed his eyes and extended his empathy for a 
moment. It was a clumsy thing to rely on, after having 
farsight, which allowed him to see physical objects afar 
as well as detect sentient beings by their emotions. But 
it would have to do.
    And it allowed him to sense Lamara, at a distance and 
moving rapidly further away from them.
    "If she wants, I am sure that she will find me," he 
repeated, opening his eyes to see Awheneth balanced 
somewhere between eagerness and reserve. "In the meantime, 
I am in command of my own destiny."
    Alarm flared in the man's hazel eyes, and he made a 
gesture that Zar had seen some of the humans in his own 
world use when they wished to ward off evil fortune. 
"Please, do not speak that word!"
    "What word?" Zar could think of nothing that he would 
have said, certainly not one word, that would cause this 
friendly human to react so violently.
    "Destiny." Awheneth all but spat the word. "My people 
do not like the idea. We stand apart from all conflicts of 
Rune and Night, and we command ourselves. Destiny is a 
thing of the Rune and Its creatures. If you would be 
welcome in our duk'tun, then you must not speak of it."
    A smile widened across Zar's face, and he really 
relaxed for the first time since he had arrived in Lohtan. 
He could learn to like these people, if nothing else and 
no one else in this world. He really could.
    "I will not. I don't like the idea myself. So. May I  
still come with you?"
    "Of course!" Awheneth's smile flashed again as he 
stood up from the half-crouch he had taken at the mention 
of destiny, displaying white teeth as perfect as pearls. 
"We are always eager to welcome new arrivals to this 
land."
    So you can learn about potential threats, Zar thought 
dryly, for he recognized the full force of the charm the 
young man had turned upon him. It was designed to make him 
feel easy, to make him feel that these humans were no real 
threat, and he could take them if he needed. Actually, the 
reverse was true- probably.
    Zar wasn't really angry. He would have done the same 
thing in different circumstances, though with magic 
instead of charm, and if Awheneth Alol really was the 
leader of his duk'tun, it was only natural and right that 
he be concerned for the safety of his people and attempt 
to neutralize any threat.
    It isn't only that, accused a voice in the depths of 
Zar's mind, a voice he hadn't heard for a long time. It 
was a voice that had tormented him in the first days after 
his exile, when he had no ambition but to return to the 
home that haunted his sleep. You want a chance to forget 
your lost magic, to think about something other than the 
plans Lamara has for you and what you have lost by 
complying with those plans.
    Zar shrugged cheerfully to himself and fell in behind 
Awheneth, barely listening to the human's chatter. All 
right. He was probably being foolhardy in so easily 
trusting this strange human. But it was something else to 
think about.
    And he could use his Rune-magic, still. That comforted 
him, even though it should only have emphasized his loss. 
He would learn to survive in this world, or the loss would 
overwhelm and kill him. He thought that he could live with 
either option.
    He studied Awheneth with the resolve of one who has 
newly dedicated himself to survival. Besides the physical 
differences between Awheneth and the humans of Zar's 
world, there were differences that seemed part of the 
spirit. Awheneth wore little clothing- little more than a 
loincloth and a laced shirt, in fact- and that mostly 
light. That only made sense, in Lohtan's heat, but those 
clothes were also flowing, to allow for freedom of 
movement, and one might have expected them to catch on 
every stray twig or branch.
    They did not. Awheneth glided and shinnied through the 
forest almost as lightly as an Elwen. He appeared to move 
with the trees, even the dyfronin, as if he were a kind of 
dyfrenin himself, sensing the mood of the forest and 
mimicking it. Zar found that he was liking the man more 
and more every time he thought about it.
    That could be the charm, too, he warned himself, and 
began to listen to the stream of words.
    Awheneth was telling him about the duk'tun, and how it 
was run. People chose leaders when and as they liked, only 
rarely choosing unworthy ones. The only major difference 
seemed to be between those who served as diplomats- which 
Awheneth freely admitted he was- and those who 
concentrated on harvesting the magical plants of the land 
and farming. The duk'tun, except for the few like 
Awheneth, was mostly inward-looking.
    Zar thought he could live with that, as well. He 
envisioned a group of people so focused on their own 
affairs that they could not be persuaded even to pay 
attention to a stranger, unless he threatened them. Zar 
did not, so they should ignore him.
    That was the state of affairs that the duazad had long 
ago deemed most comfortable, both for himself and for 
other people.
    "What is the world you come from like?" Awheneth asked 
suddenly, seemingly without any other thought in his head 
than simple and idle curiosity.
    Zar answered with a wry smile, first, to let Awheneth 
know that he understood fully what the human was doing. He 
was rewarded not with a look of mock innocence and a 
protest, as he had more than half expected, but with an 
appraising look from the hazel eyes, and a slow nod, as if 
Awheneth had just set him in some new context and taken a 
fuller measure of him.
    "You are more than I thought, indeed. But to hear how 
much more, I must hear your tale."
    Zar spoke as slowly as he could, not sure how well the 
magically acquired common tongue they spoke would hold out  
in describing some of the things that Arcadia possessed. 
"Well, there are many peoples like me, scattered about, 
living in cities, forests, seas, deserts, mountains, or 
wherever suits their fancy most."
    "What are they called, these people?"
    "Elwens," Zar said, without a hesitation. It would 
only seem strange, and most likely the name of his race 
was not known here at all, save as a whisper of faint 
magic and rumor in another world.
    There was no flicker of recognition in Awheneth's 
eyes; he merely nodded and leaned back against a tree. 
"Please go on."
    Zar groped after words. He had never imagined that he 
would be left with this task someday. Trying to explain 
Arcadia and all its wondrous power and beauty was like 
explaining a song to someone who had been deaf from birth. 
How could he do it?
    Awheneth, though, seemed surprised but pleased at the 
magic he so haltingly described, at the vast jeweled 
cities, at the power of the various gods and goddesses 
that made Arcadia their home. He halted Zar only when the 
angle of the light had changed significantly, glancing 
about as alertly as a hunting cat.
    "We would not make my duk'tun tonight in any case," he 
said, when the Elwen began to apologize for having taken 
so much time. "I am only looking for shelter from the 
night. Though my people do not fear and mistrust it as the 
Runeworkers do, still, it calls out many predators who 
cannot abide the heat of Gimbolon and Marra."
    Zar nodded his understanding and extended his own 
empathy. He could feel the faint, stirring flickers of 
hunger in almost every direction, the emotions that were 
only rudimentary in animals, but that, added together, 
gave him the same sense that the more complex and complete 
emotions of a sentient being did. "I can guide you to a 
safe resting place," he offered, still feeling with his 
empathy as he took a step in the direction that seemed 
least dangerous.
    "That will not be necessary. I know where we will 
spend the night. I am only listening to insure that we 
will not run into trouble on the way."
    "You can feel emotions, too?" Zar asked in 
startlement. His Rune-bands let him feel Rune-magic at 
work, and he had detected none- not the slightest trace- 
from the human.
    "Not that," said Awheneth absently, and tilted his had 
back and closed his eyes. "My people can read the dyfronin 
if we stay still and quiet, and the behavior of the trees 
tells us that we can move in a certain direction, or that 
it would be dangerous to do so."
    Zar fell obediently silent, and watched the rustling 
trees himself. None of his Elwen sensitivity to the 
natural world remained, or he could sense what the trees 
were feeling, too. As it was, he had to rely on the 
movements of their leaves and on Awheneth's assumed 
expertise with them.
    The man's eyes opened at last, and he motioned for Zar 
to follow him.
    Zar did so, gliding through the woods with an agility 
that won him an approving nod from Awheneth and made him 
hope that not all of his Elwen magic had defected after 
all. Perhaps some remained. He could still move with grace 
and agility, and he could smell danger before it struck, 
if necessary.
    A sudden, terribly irritating smell came to him, and 
he sneezed. Awheneth glanced back at him in sympathy, and 
made a motion with his fingers, pointing in one direction. 
Zar turned his head to stare at pink and green flowers, 
the likes of which he had never seen.
    "Aljandrin flowers," said Awheneth in a low voice, a 
voice that would not travel more than six feet beyond the 
two of them. "They defend themselves from being plucked in 
this way."
    "And they provide a convenient hunting cover for 
predators?" Zar tilted his head as he waited for the man's 
response.
    "I have heard of such a thing, but only from the more 
intelligent creatures of the Night. Surely no ordinary 
animal would be able to overcome the smell and the 
irritation long enough to do so."
    Zar nodded; his eyes were already beginning to sting 
and water. Awheneth gestured that they should move on.
    But before they had gone more than three paces, Zar 
caught the human's arm. His nose and empathy had sensed 
wheat even Awheneth's magic apparently could not: the 
presence of some dangerous, deadly malevolence not too far 
away.
    The thing was most definitely of the Night. It exuded 
the same feeling to his empathy that the Nightwalkers on 
the Great Grasslands had, though this was more a general 
poison directed towards the whole world rather than a 
malice aimed specifically at him. The thing did not seem 
to be intelligent.
    For which, the stars be thanked. Zar knew already that 
he did not want to face this thing, would have been wary 
even if in command of all his magic. The creature was far 
more powerful than the dragon-cat he had turned away 
earlier. His Rune-given power would probably not be able 
to attack it.
    Awheneth, knowing nothing of the creature or the 
thoughts running through Zar's mind, cast him a curious 
glance, then looked up to the dyfronin. The blue-leaved 
trees stayed still, though. If they trembled, it was with 
no more than the passing breeze.
    Of course not, Zar thought. This creature was not 
sentient, and it was natural, native to this world. Even 
such evil would not affect the trees if they were used to 
it.
    "What-" Awheneth finally began.
    Zar quieted him with a glare, and then sank downward, 
drawing the coppery-skinned human with him. The clarity of 
the sunlight was fading, almost as if a blade were being 
pulled from a wound, and the heat was diminishing also. 
Looking up, Zar could see dusk flooding from the western 
horizon with incredible speed. Though the suns still did 
not appear to have changed position to him, he knew they 
were setting, and that they would leave something very 
different behind them.
    Already it was beginning. Creatures he had no names 
for, of lesser power than the one blundering its way 
towards them, were stirring. The darkness breathed and 
moved, glancing into hidden dens, overflooding the 
punishing light of the two suns. The Night was rising in 
force.
    He could see why Awheneth's people and Lamara's both 
feared it.
    Awheneth stirred at his side. "We should leave, now," 
he hissed beneath his breath.
    With a start, Zar realized he had not told his 
companion of the danger. "Something is hunting us," he 
breathed, shaking his head to forbid the idea all the 
while.
    Awheneth froze in astonishment, resting his hands on 
his knees. "Are you sure? Hunting us specifically, out of 
all the creatures in the forest?"
    Zar paused, then nodded hesitantly. Perhaps the Rune- 
power he carried, which could reveal certain truths about 
the Night, had warned him, or perhaps it was a flash of 
his insight. Either way, he was sure that this powerful 
being had been set on their trail.
    The sense of malevolence came closer and closer, until 
it drummed on his mental ears like Lamara's fury. It 
circled them, then paused by the aljandrin flowers as if 
enjoying their bitter, burning scent. Zar ignored the 
tears that threatened from the musk of those flowers, and 
peered between the long blades of silvery "grass" that 
they crouched behind. He could see nothing.
    But the deadliness and blackness in his mind suddenly 
soared, to a peak much like a shriek of triumph, and 
something turned towards him.
    The time for hiding was past. 
    Zar instinctively tried to take to the air, then 
cursed the wasted effort and shoved Awheneth forward. 
"Go!" he shouted, rising to his feet and turning to face 
the unseen presence.
    Awheneth shook his head and moved up to stand beside 
the Elwen. Zar gave him an incredulous look out of the 
corner of his eye.
    "I told you to leave! You don't know what you're 
facing!"
    "And you do?"
    That gave Zar pause, and then the creature was upon 
them.
    There was nothing so dramatic as a glare from glowing 
red eyes, or a taloned paw swiping at them, or even a 
cloud of darkness. The evil was suddenly all around them, 
thick and choking and deadly. Zar stumbled backwards, 
futilely putting a hand over his mouth, as if he was 
trying to keep out smoke instead of this far more deadly 
miasma. Awheneth's face paled to the color of milk, and he 
cast a desperate, appealing glance at the Elwen.
    Zar could not use his Rune-power with no eyes to focus 
on, though, and could only shake his head and await the 
death blow.
    But then the evil drew off a little, as if the 
creature had been satisfying its curiosity about them 
only, and took corporeal form for the first time. The 
creature that formed had four legs, but there the 
resemblance to ant animal that Zar had ever known ended. 
The covering it wore looked like silk and shimmered with 
the colors of the aljandrin flowers. Its head was narrow, 
tapering to a point like a sword, and its eyes glittered, 
changing color so fast that it was no use trying to get 
any kind of a handle on what hue they really were. It 
moved forward with a low and menacing snarl, one hand-like 
paw scraping at the earth.
    "What is it?" Zar breathed to Awheneth.
    "Some creature of the Night." Incredibly, the human's 
voice sounded calmer than it had when the evil surrounded 
him. Zar cast him another incredulity glance as he stepped 
forward and extended a hand to the beast.
    "Welcome, brother."
    Zar froze at the words, then looked at the Rune-bands 
on his wrists. They were glowing very faintly, and he 
could feel the magic of the Night. But it emanated from 
the beast alone!
    Was Awheneth an agent of the Night, or wasn't he? The 
Rune said e wasn't, but he had just proclaimed himself so!
    Zar looked up to see Awheneth smiling and nodding at 
the obviously confused beast. "That's right," he said, 
actually reaching out a hand to smooth one silky, bulky 
shoulder. "That's a good brother. Can you lead us to those 
of the Forest People who sent you?"
    The creature lowered its head and blew briefly on the 
human's face, then turned and walked into the forest. It 
paused under a still dyfrenin tree, glancing back over its 
shoulder like a dog.
    "Come," Awheneth bade Zar. "We have been offered even 
better shelter from the night."
    Zar stared at him, then deliberately lifted his hands, 
displaying the Runesworn markings. The creature made an 
angry, huffing noise, and once again swung back towards 
them. Its paw began the steady scrape again that reminded 
Zar of a bull about to charge.
    Awheneth laid a calming hand on its shoulder and 
glared at the falcon Elwen. "Do you have to upset him like 
that?"
    "What do you mean? He's of the Night, and I'm sworn to 
the Rune." His sentence was punctuated by a deep growl 
from the creature, apparently at the mention of the Rune. 
"Lamara's told me over and over again what the Night does 
to creatures of the Rune it catches. I'm not about to go 
anywhere with something like that."
    "It's not your fault that you chose your side before 
you knew everything, but it is if you continue to refuse 
knowledge," said Awheneth in an impatient voice. "He was 
sent by the Forest People, to guide us to a safe haven for 
the night."
    "He spoke to you?"
    "No. But I recognize him as a servant of the Forest 
People, and he wants us to follow. My people have always 
been on good terms with them. Should I fear for my life, 
do you think?"
    "Perhaps not. But perhaps I should fear for mine." Zar 
stiffened as the creature's glowing eyes focused on him 
again, and edged back.
    The creature whuffled and trotted towards the falcon 
Elwen. Zar stood still as it circled him, seeming to 
examine him intently. Then it lowered the pointed head and 
nudged him in the back with its sharp head. Zar took an 
unwilling step forward, still glancing back at the beast 
now and then.
    It made another impatient, whuffling sound, and butted 
again. Zar guessed he was to be herded along to their 
destination if he didn't cooperate.
    Gritting his teeth, the duazad began to walk. Almost 
at once, the aljandrin beast ran in front of him, to walk 
easily, with a kind of swinging gait, besides Awheneth.
    The human cast him a mild look out of his hazel eyes. 
"See how easy that was? Certainly far easier than you made 
it."
    "I wasn't sure if I should trust him," Zar muttered, 
still watching the creature of the Night. He had not 
forgotten how fast it moved, and how invisibly, and he 
supposed he would have to go along for now. But he would 
escape as soon as he could. "I'm still not sure that I 
can."
    Awheneth laughed lightly. "Trust me, then."
    Zar said nothing, but he was not so sure that he could 
do that, either.
----------------------------------------------------------
    They walked for what might have been several miles, or 
however distance was estimated here, further and further 
into the forest. Either this was a larger island than the 
one Zar and Lamara had crossed, or the forest was not 
precisely held in place by physical limits. Every time Zar 
thought they must break free, he saw more blue and silvery 
and green branches and trunks ahead.
    No. It was simply a large forest. That was all he 
would allow himself to think about. He got dizzy when he 
contemplated the higher levels of magical theory.
    The aljandrin beast and Awheneth never once slowed 
their pace, not even when they encountered more of the 
metallic silvery and crystal undergrowth. They simply 
walked right through, the undergrowth bouncing harmlessly 
off silky fur and bare skin alike. Zar followed gingerly, 
only to find that they did not cut him, either. Their 
dangerous appearance was just that, a deception, an 
illusion, probably meant to fool animals into not eating 
them.
    Zar thought he might have enjoyed this were he not, in 
essence, a prisoner. The jeweled flyers grew thicker and 
thicker, though these had wings that refracted darkness 
itself into a thousand glittering purples and blues, 
rather than reflecting light. They bobbed around the 
human's head, darting out in searching forays towards Zar 
and the beast but keeping close to home.
    And there was more fantastic wildlife- trees in colors 
Zar had never imagined could exist, bushes that bore fruit 
and flowers both at once, and creatures that looked so 
flimsy one push would break them.
    Zar was glad he had not lost his nightsight, either, 
or his sense of smell. Otherwise, he might have stumbled 
into any of a hundred horrid natural traps, and he didn't 
think either the intent human nor the aljandrin beast 
would have noticed. They would only notice if he tried to 
sneak away, or so he thought every time the creature 
turned to bare its teeth at him.
    They stopped at last, in a clearing ringed by dyfrenin 
trees with darkened bark and crystalline leaves, trees 
that did not move as Zar walked among them. He touched one 
cautiously, then shivered and snatched his hand away. It 
was cold, intensely so.
    The aljandrin beast looked placidly at the air for a 
long moment, then disappeared once more. Zar could feel 
the sense of malevolence snaking away westwards, this time 
apparently hunting for food. Strange, he thought, that he 
still felt it as malevolence even though the beast had not 
hurt them.
    "What do we do now?" he asked Awheneth, looking around 
for the presence of any kind of welcoming committee. There 
seemed to be nothing in sight but the open expanse of 
grass-moss and the corrupted dyfronin. 
    Awheneth's eyes shone as the eyes of the more sensible 
humans in Zar's world did when they were confronted with 
magic. It was obvious that he was in awe of this place, 
and did not fear it. Humans were like that, Zar thought 
with a brief and tantalizing feeling of familiarity. They 
couldn't wield magic themselves, and thus found more than 
a little wonder in watching others do so.
    "Rare is it that one of my people comes to a 
stronghold of the Forest People in this way," whispered 
the human. His voice tingled and shook, but as if he was 
trying to keep from bursting out in a shout of joy, rather 
than sobs of terror.
    Zar glanced at the black dyfronin out of the corner of 
his eye and shivered again. There was magic here, powerful 
magic. But he knew as well as any other that magic could 
be turned to evil purposes as well as good.
    Suddenly, something that looked like heavy crystal 
smoke poured into the clearing. Zar held his breath 
instinctively, but the gas did not surround them and choke 
the life from the two intruders. It formed a shimmering, 
translucent curtain between two trees on the far side of 
the clearing instead.
    From behind that curtain stepped a slender figure, 
essentially human in form, who paused and stood gazing at 
them.
    Zar had never looked upon such a one before, he was 
sure of it. The woman was tall, as slender as a reed, and 
had only flat skin where her breasts should have been. 
Still, he was sure she was female, perhaps because of the 
long pale hair that stirred and eddied around her. It was 
almost the same color as her skin, which revealed milky 
tracings of veins and arteries, or the curtain, which 
revealed glimpses of strange things beyond the clearing.
    Zar had never seen her or anyone like her before. But 
again familiarity reached out, this time touching him with 
fingers as still as the black dyfrenin's bark.
    "Welcome," the woman said, in a voice that shone with 
cold and crystal, and moved forward in a way that oddly 
lacked joint. Her eyes rested for only a moment on 
Awheneth before turning to Zar, but she seemingly spoke to 
both of them. "It is long since we have had you here."
    Awheneth knelt, still gazing at the woman in 
adoration, apparently not discomfited by her strange 
words. "Lady of the Forest-"
    "Please. We are in our sanctum." For a moment, her 
eyes took in Zar's wrists, but there was no telling what 
she thought of the Rune-bands, if anything. "You may call 
us by our proper name."
    Awheneth's hazel eyes lit, and he nodded. "Very well, 
then. My lady Nightwalker-"




                        Chapter 2
                     The Nightwalkers
    "When surprises come upon you, it is best to 
acknowledge them."
    -From Toa Tumblao Luster Tema, or The Book of Common 
Knowledge, author unknown.

    "You're a Nightwalker?"
    The mild eyes turned to his. Gray, those eyes, or 
silver, or the color of the stars that were even now 
beginning to peer down into the clearing. "That is the 
name given to us, yes."
    Zar shook his head slowly. He had encountered 
Nightwalkers on Arcadia, when they had come hunting Lamara 
and eventually declared war upon him as well. They were 
creatures so ugly that they kept the upper parts of their 
faces wrapped in bandages, for otherwise they would not 
have been able to pass among Elwens. They were 
hunchbacked, with black eyes like lopsided pentagons, 
clawed hands, and skin the color of sulfur that could kill 
any Elwen who touched it. A further deviation from this 
woman's cool composure and beauty could not be imagined.
    "I don't understand," he murmured.
    "What is there to understand?" Awheneth said, clearly 
incensed at being interrupted. "They are the people of the 
forests, the walkers of the Night. They have helped my 
people and I many times. They would never hurt us." He 
turned back to the Nightwalker woman, his face lit with a 
smile of perfect confidence and trust. "Would you?"
    "No. But a Runesworn is different." The Nightwalker 
looked at Zar's wrists.
    Zar started to thrust them defensively behind his 
back, then controlled the impulse and forced himself to 
hold his hands where she could see him. Slowly, he was 
accepting that this strange, fey woman was indeed one of 
the creatures he had named as enemies. After all, the 
bodies of the Runeworkers changed when they passed between 
the worlds, and he himself had lost his magic. Why should 
Nightwalkers be different?
    "You weren't really surprised," said the woman in that 
cold voice that held no music and yet was filled with 
distant melody. "You were only startled that we were so 
beautiful."
    Zar smiled wryly. "You are likely right, my lady." 
Muscles tensed beneath his tunic, flight muscles that were 
useless now, and muscles that would let him run or throw 
the knife he still carried at his belt. He could not 
forget that she was his enemy. "Elwens have often been 
seduced by beauty."
    "But not humans," Awheneth interjected. For the first 
time, his voice held the loud, braying note that Zar had 
heard from humans of Arcadia when they proclaimed their 
own superiority, spiritual and otherwise, over Elwens. "We 
know the truth of this one and her people, Zar. She would 
not hurt us," he repeated. "And she will not hurt you, if 
I ask it so." He looked back at the woman again, nodding 
slightly already, anticipating her agreement.
    The woman said nothing, only turned and gestured with 
one hand whose fingernails were indeed long, but no more 
claws than Zar's were. "I will lead you to a place where 
you may shelter from the night."
    But not the Night, Zar thought as he hesitated. 
Awheneth nudged him sharply, then stepped past her, 
through the crystalline curtain. That left the Elwen 
little choice but to follow.
    They passed in an instant from dusk to darkness. Zar's 
nightsight still functioned, filling the place with the 
auras that all things which existed had. But crowding 
around that was a thick and smothering magical blackness 
that his eyes could not pierce. Creatures moved in it who 
made his empathy scream. He could hear low sounds, 
satisfied chuckles and shrieks of pain mingled with 
melodic singing.
    He looked at Awheneth, but the human's ruddy face wore 
a dreamy smile, as if he did not hear the screams, only 
the laughter and the singing. Zar tensed immediately 
again, and looked at the Nightwalker.
    "What have you done to him?"
    Instead of answering- or perhaps it was an answer- the 
woman began to change before his eyes. The gray eyes 
faded, replaced by the lopsided black pentagons that Zar 
remembered. He jerked his eyes quickly away from them. 
Just staring at a Nightwalker's footprint was bad enough. 
He could imagine what their eyes would be like, and wished 
he couldn't.
    "I think we may speak more freely now," the 
Nightwalker said, and Zar started badly, for her voice was 
now filled with the unmistakable silvery accents of a land 
Elwen.
    "What have you done to him?" Zar repeated, not daring 
to catch her eyes, but calling up what force of the Rune 
he could. "I rescued him from one of your creatures 
already today. I'll not stand by to see him fed to 
another."
    The Nightwalker laughed, a sound like wind. "None of 
our pets hunt during the day, little Elwen. That was 
something else, a human folly and conceit. But there is no 
time to speak of that. Our master will not approve of our 
holding this human in suspended time for too long. Let us 
speak quickly."
    "What about?"
    The Nightwalker woman released the wind-sound again, 
but this time it sounded like the hiss of a gale, as if 
she were less than amused by his antics suddenly. "You are 
a servant of the Rune. Yet you have come into a heart of 
the Night's power. You think we have nothing to speak of?"
    "I think we do. But I was led here; I did not come of 
my own free will."
    "Yes, we know. But that does not mean we cannot do 
business." The woman paused for a long moment, as if 
waiting for him to say something, then went on when he 
didn't. "You were led here for a purpose. Our master has 
heard of your exploits in your wild world. He wishes to 
speak with you, to learn more of them."
    "What exploits?" Best to keep his answers as short as 
possible. Perhaps they would give up and let him go if 
they saw that he really didn't have any idea what they 
were talking about.
    "You destroyed a master."
    Zar's skin crawled, and the pinfeathers on his neck 
tried to stand on end. A darkreader. The master of these 
Nightwalkers was a darkreader. He should have known.
    "I do not know how I destroyed him. Merely speaking 
with me will do your master no good."
    The Nightwalker took a step toward him, another step 
that was horribly fluid and quick. For the first time, Zar 
flinched away from it. It reminded him not of Elwen grace, 
but of the strange, alien movements of some insect. "There 
is more than one kind of power, Zar Feathermaster. You may 
not be able to destroy a darkreader- for which we are 
grateful!- but surely the same techniques can be applied 
to other creatures."
    "I don't know what you mean."
    "You will. Will you talk to our master, or must we 
force it from you?"
    Remembered screams echoed in Zar's head, and he 
lowered his eyes. He did not think he could stand the same 
torment if it was applied to him. "I will speak with him, 
if I must."
    The Nightwalker nodded, and her eyes melted back to 
gray. Then she released Awheneth from her spell. The 
human's dreamy expression faded, replaced by awe as he 
looked around at the darkness.
    "This is not your sleeping place, of course. Merely a 
stop along the way." The woman raised her hands and 
gestured, a motion that Zar thought was made more to 
impress the human than for any practical reason. Magic of 
the Night, like Elwen magic, it seemed, could work by the 
will alone.
    The crystal smoke flowed in again, obscuring the 
scene, and then retreated. Zar found himself standing in a 
small room carved of white-flecked blue stone that 
shimmered and hummed with silent power. There were 
delicate carvings in the wall- or at least, they seemed to 
be carvings. They might really be floating just above it, 
caught half in the air and half in the stone. Zar thought 
he saw hints of that.
    "This is your place," said the Nightwalker woman, 
startling him. "I will return with our lord in a short 
while." She bowed, and stepped out of the room through 
another curtain that appeared and then disappeared as Zar 
stood gazing at it.
    "You are to speak to their lord?" Awheneth, already 
taking a comfortable, squatting seat on the rich green 
moss that carpeted the floor, gave him a look of mingled 
envy and awe. "You must be favored indeed! Few of the 
Night grant any such audience to servants of the Rune."
    "Exactly. That's why I'm nervous." Zar tried to 
imitate the human's squat for a moment, then gave up and 
sat down fully. "Tell me, Awheneth, why did you say that 
your people stand aside from the struggles of the Night 
and the Rune when that is obviously not the case?"
    The human's hazel eyes took sudden fire, the first 
sign of temper that Zar had seen him display. But his 
voice when he replied was mild. "We do not participate in 
the endless struggles the other peoples are locked in. The 
Forest People have chosen to aid us, to give us gifts, of 
their own free will. We are under no obligation to do 
anything in return."
    "No gift comes without a price," Zar pointed out. 
"They truly want you to do nothing?" He watched the 
human's face closely as he spoke, searching for some sign, 
some flicker of unease.
    There was nothing. Awheneth's flush, and thus his 
anger, only deepened, and he cast the word back in Zar's 
face with a hiss. "Nothing."
    Zar sat on his heels and studied the human. He 
appeared to be telling the truth. Of course, the Elwen 
couldn't know for sure. He suspected that the gift for 
detecting lies had been stripped from him as well as so 
many other things. But, no. He thought the human was 
telling the truth, that he really believed there was no 
price to pay for this.
    Awheneth rambled on, his cheeks flushed and his eyes 
hot and proud. "The Forest People have been our allies 
since Gimbolon rose! They know all the ways of the forests 
and of the Night. Many creatures who serve them also serve 
the Night, that is true, but there is nothing we can do 
about that. We accept it. They are not human. We cannot 
say that we understand them, and that means that we cannot 
judge them."
    Zar stared at him. "That's the most ridiculous thing I 
ever heard."
    "What do you mean?"
    "You cannot understand a-" That was when Zar 
discovered that their mysterious shared tongue had no word 
for "madman." He struggled with the concept for a silent 
moment, while Awheneth watched him in increasing 
bewilderment.
    "You cannot understand everyone," Zar chose at last. 
"Does that mean you cannot say their actions are wrong, if 
they are?"
    "That is different. Everyone I know and understand is 
human, Zar. Even you are very strange to me. I would not 
presume to judge the Nightwalkers, since I have never 
talked to one of them for any length of time. All you need 
know is that neither that woman nor her master intends us 
any harm. I could feel it if she did, from the gifts that 
the Nightwalkers themselves have given us."
    Zar ground his teeth in frustration, and tried to 
speak calmly and rationally. "Awheneth, I am not 
discounting the fact that they have aided you. I am simply 
questioning how pure their motives may be in this case. I 
serve the Rune, and you accompany me. They may feel they 
cannot afford mercy."
    "They are merciful," Awheneth asserted baldly.
    "I fought them on my own world. Powerful, evil, and 
dangerous creatures. How could they be so there, and yet 
so different here?"
    "I have heard tales of your world, I think, from both 
your lips and from stories that have come to the duk'tun 
since I was a child," Awheneth said. He edged very 
slightly away from Zar. "It is said to be a wild and 
dangerous place. Perhaps they were simply fighting for 
their survival. Have you ever considered that?"
    Zar only shook his head, and turned away. He had seen 
the Nightwalkers torture a mageborn child he had agreed to 
tutor. Nothing would convince him that the creatures were 
anything other than evil.
    Awheneth had his eyes closed and appeared to be 
meditating when next Zar looked at him. Zar sighed, folded 
his arms, and leaned back against the stone as he stared 
up at the ceiling, which was filled with the same shadowy 
shapes that were not carvings and yet not quite reliefs. 
The thrumming power of the stone comforted him somewhat, 
remind him of the rush of his lost magic through his heart 
and blood.
    Zar closed his eyes and fought back the loss that once 
again reared like a tidal wave, threatening to overpower 
his reason. He shoved it down, locking it deep inside 
himself. He might still regain his magic, but there was no 
way he could do that short of returning to Arcadia. Right 
now, he had to concentrate on how to survive through this.
    He opened his eyes again and thoughtfully studied the 
room. There seemed to be no way in or out. It was an oddly 
shaped place, the walls and ceiling curving in a way that 
reminded him of an egg. But whatever it truly was, only 
Nightwalkers could create doors to or from it, or perhaps 
only magic.
    Or could they?
    Zar sat up, his heart suddenly pounding with 
excitement. He cast a swift glance at his companion. 
Awheneth remained in place, now chewing steadily on what 
smelled like a wad of some plant. His voice rose and fell 
in soft, regular chanting.
    Just what Zar needed to cover his search for a way 
out.
    The falcon Elwen stood, leaned against the wall, and 
yawned loudly. The human still remained deeply involved in 
his meditation. Zar turned towards the wall, wings spread 
to shield Awheneth, if he should awaken, from the sight of 
Zar's probing, tapping fingers.
    All his Elwen senses, save for the psychic one, 
remained intact, and he heard hollowness clearly, even 
though the vibration with faint. A triumphant smile on his 
lips, Zar rapped once more on the place, then fell back, 
fixing it in his memory. Stray flecks that looked almost 
silver surrounded it in a distinctive circular pattern. 
Obvious now, except that he hadn't been looking for it 
before.
    There was probably nothing he could do now. Though the 
Nightwalker had already been gone longer than he had 
expected, he thought the darkreader could not be too long 
in arriving. And then he would have to talk to the 
creature, agree to its demands, and survive here, all 
without compromising his loyalty to the Rune...
    A hiss escaped his lips. Without quite realizing what 
he was doing, he lifted one hand and pressed the back of 
his color-covered wrist to the center of the circle.
    There was a soundless flash of light so bright that 
Zar listened for a long, stupefied moment, convinced there 
had to be thunder to accompany this lightning. Then, with 
a profound musical groan, the circle shuddered. The 
silvery flecks danced out, forming a much larger circle.
    And the section of blue stone bounded by those flecks 
simply- vanished. Zar was left staring at a neatly carved 
staircase that glimmered with green witchlight, for all 
the world like the swamp gas of Arcadia. The stone steps, 
all broad and wide enough for his feet, led downward in a 
sharply twisting spiral. Into another place, out of here.
    Zar took a deep breath.
    At that moment, cold malevolence sank into his bones. 
He knew what it meant, without a doubt. The darkreader was 
coming.
    Zar made his choice in that moment. He ducked through 
the portal, and began walking down the steps, his hands 
held out before him to provide him with what additional 
illumination they could.
    There was no sound behind him, but suddenly the faint 
light coming from the room was gone altogether. The only 
light that remained was the green glow, the shimmering 
Rune-fire slowly beginning to rise from Zar's hands to his 
desperate coaxing...
    And light reflected from the mirror.
    Zar had forgotten all about the mirror. Tucked so 
securely was it beneath his tunic, fastened to a 
glittering chain that was goddess-woven and thus unlikely 
to break, it hadn't bumped or jolted all day, and so it 
hadn't reminded him. Now he halted to pull it gingerly 
into the light.
    It flared almost at once with power, sending bright 
scarlet and golden light out to push at the darkness. The 
darkness did not move much, of course, and it revealed 
nothing but more steps almost directly beneath him, so 
steep was the staircase. Still, Zar took comfort in it. 
The mirror was born of Rune-fire, a message sent to 
another Runeworker that had unexpectedly taken form and 
shape in Zar's hands, and somehow bonded itself to him. To 
have it with him now was cheering.
    Caressing the carved frame, Zar began once again to 
descend.
    At some point, the darkness ceased to press so 
closely. Or, Zar thought as he listened carefully to the 
murmurs and small sounds around him, it was rather as if 
it were changing its nature. If he didn't know better, he 
would say that it was becoming a forest, filled with life.
    Then a branch brushed into his mouth, filling it with 
something like pine needles, and he realized his 
suspicions were correct.
    Pausing to spit out the mingled bitter and sweet 
needles, Zar listened. There was the merry song of running 
water from somewhere, a sound that seemingly came from 
both far below and high above. He could hear birds cooing 
and chirping to each other, and none of the uneasy, evil 
silence that marked the coming of any creature of the 
Night.
    He descended again, after a few moments, now more 
curious than apprehensive.
    Light was suddenly all around him, causing the Rune- 
fire to dim and die, though the green glow that lighted 
the staircase lingered all the way to the bottom. The 
steps wound to an end in the middle of a glade darker and 
yet more beautiful than any Zar had ever seen. Flowers 
that reminded him of the black roses of Arcadia twined on 
delicate, wine-red vines around trees whose darkness 
looked natural, not the result of corruption. The soft 
half-light that came from an unseen source lit the grass 
with sharp shadows. The stream that Zar had heard ran 
tinkling across the grass here. By following its course 
with his eyes, Zar could see that it feel in a series of 
steps from another ledge, giving the sound both above his 
head and below his feet that he had heard.
    Hesitantly, remembering the pool of ojashin, he 
stooped to drink. But this water did not shimmer so, and 
did not burn his throat. It tasted cool and sweet and 
fresh, in fact, and he eagerly drank more.
    "Who are you?"
    Zar whirled around, the mirror around his neck flaring 
with defensive power. He was not sure if it could be used 
as a weapon, but his own Rune-granted magic was making it 
act like one as he faced a stranger.
    The stranger hung back in shadows, so that Zar 
couldn't get a good look at him. But he had none of the 
musty smell of a Nightwalker, and the cowled garment he 
wore- with the cowl pulled tightly over his head- didn't 
seem to be the kind of thing a Nightwalker would wear. It 
was colored with cobalt, gold, and red- the colors of the 
Runeworkers, or so Zar believed. Cobalt for the eyes, red 
and gold for their scales.
    "Who are you?" the stranger repeated, stepping 
forward. His musical, resonant voice rang and whispered 
through the cavern.
    Zar paused a moment, to be sure that the sound of that 
voice was not attracting Nightwalkers, and then responded. 
"My name is Zar. I came to Lohtan recently, in the company 
of a Runeworker, the Lady A'lkeli." He remembered just in 
time to give Lamara her title. She preferred to be known 
by her name, but he doubted this Runeworker would think 
that little custom at all amusing. Runesworn were supposed 
to show respect to the children of the Rune.
    "And what are you doing here?"
    "I walked into this place without realizing what it 
was," said Zar, and his tongue sharpened before he 
realized what he was doing. He didn't really think the 
Runeworker had the right to question him, when he didn't 
have any more business being here than Zar did. "I thought 
it might be an escape from my enemies. I see that I was 
wrong."
    "The true Runesworn have nothing to fear from the 
Runeworkers." He came forward another few steps, and now 
Zar could see that he was two-legged, as Lamara might once 
have been. Beneath his cowl, the faint shadow of a pointed 
face like hers could be made out, but no distinguishing 
feature- which was, Zar supposed, the point. "But are you 
true to the Rune?"
    "I can think of more interesting and urgent things to 
talk about. What are you doing here, for example? Can you 
get me out?"
    The Runeworker again ignored him, slowly cocking his 
head as if deciding from what angle to regard Zar. Then he 
came forward a quick few steps, and reached for the mirror 
that now hung openly about Zar's neck.
    Zar flinched, but stood firm.
    The mirror blazed the moment the Runeworker's hand 
touched it, and fire flickering with extraordinary, 
magical speed through all the colors that fire could be- 
from red and hold and orange to blue and white- leaped 
from its surface. Zar heard the faint sizzling sound, and 
smelled the unmistakable odor of burning skin. But the 
Runeworker only slowly withdrew his hands, staring at the 
mirror with narrowed eyes.
    "Where did you get that?"
    Zar decided this was quite enough. He had been 
abandoned, scolded, herded, chased, and advised to wait, 
and he was damn sick and tired of it. This Runeworker 
wanted answers? He could go find them for himself. Zar 
didn't want to give information to people who, for all he 
knew, could be Lamara's enemies- and his own.
    "Figure it out yourself," he snapped, and turned away 
to follow the stream.
    Abruptly he couldn't move. As Lamara had done once, 
the Runeworker had apparently bound him in invisible 
chains. Zar twisted and struggled, but then the sense of 
pressure tightened, and he could do no more than blink his 
eyes and hiss beneath his breath.
    "Better," said the Runeworker languidly, walking 
around to stand in front of him. "You will address me with 
respect, do you understand?"
    The pressure loosened enough that Zar could move his 
head in affirmation. He spoke instead. "How am I supposed 
to do that if I cannot see your face?"
    The Runeworker froze for a moment, as still as the 
Elwen, and Zar had the impression that he had just said 
something entirely unexpected. But then he nodded, and 
reached up to remove the cowl with fingers as long and 
slender as Zar's own.
    The face thus revealed looked ancient, ageless, 
serene, with his eyes a paler blue than Lamara's and 
showing centuries of wisdom. Zar hissed anyway. There was 
something, perhaps in the faint twist of the pebbled skin 
about the lipless mouth, that he did not like. There was a 
line, a shadow that suggested cruelty...
    Then the impression vanished, and the Runeworker 
inclined his head a little. "Well? Now that you have seen 
me, do you think you could respect me?"
    "I'm not sure," said Zar bluntly, ignoring the 
dangerous narrowing of the eyes and tightening of the 
mouth. "I've encountered many unpleasant people and 
creatures since I arrived, but you're one of the worst. 
Why should I trust someone who treats me like a servant, 
and then ties me up?"
    "It was necessary. The Runeworkers are first among the 
children and servants of the Rune. Runesworn like yourself 
must never forget that."
    Zar merely rolled his eyes, a gesture that the 
Runeworker seemingly did not know how to interpret. After 
an uncertain pause, the interrogation began.
    "What brings you to a stronghold of the Nightwalkers?"
    "I didn't have much choice," said Zar dryly, forming a 
picture of the beast in his mind that combined its 
physical appearance and the dark power that surrounded it, 
and casting it at the Runeworker. The pale blue eyes 
narrowed again, and one slender hand began tapping a 
precise beat on a scaled cheek.
    "Go on."
    "They said that I was to speak to their master, a 
darkreader. I was waiting for him when the thought came to 
me that there might be another way out. I searched, and I 
found one."
    The Runeworker laughed without humor. It was the first 
time Zar had heard one laugh, and he shuddered. The sound 
reminded him of scales scraping rock.