    




    260
    
    SILVERHAND
    
    NOth its fingers still clutching the sword hilt. 'The Duet
    need to improve their breeding program," Gwynne coolly
    remarked. 'These creatures are not as invulnerable as
    they look."
     Caeled gave her a glance of astonishment. It had never
    occurred to him that a woman could be such a fighter.
     His momentary lapse of concentration cost him. The
    maned monster flung itself on him and wrapped its
    forelegs arouncl Wis body. Its vAe b-reath ble-,v hotly mito
    his face as it tightened its embrace arouncl Caeled
    intending to crush him to death.
     The Bredi's strength was awesome but its reflexes were
    not as fast as his. Before it could hug tightly enough to kill
    him, Caeled squirmed free and dropped to his knees. He,~
    drove his metal hand between the creature's legs, caught
    flesh, and exerted all his force.
     The Bredi let out a deafening shriek and collapsed,;
     mouth gaping in agony. Caeled snatched his hand free of,
     the falling body and drove two silver fingers into the
     warrior's eyes and all the way to the brain.
       As the creature was dying the featureless Bre
     scuttled sideways towards Caeled, while the remaining
     saurians focussed their attention on the Stone Warrior.
       Each of them carried two daggers. The one directly
     front of her moved its weapons in tiny circles, endeavo
     ing to hold her attention while the other two came at hei
     from the sides. So, she observed for future reference, tC,
     saurians were at least intelligent enough to fight as a unit.
     The Bredi on her right moved first, striking out with its
     knives. Metal sparked off the arm she raised in defense.
     Gwynne immediately lunged to her left and crushed the
     chest of the Bredi there with the morningstar, then spun
     in a half circle, smashing the weapon into the face of
     saurian in the center.
       A hasty glance showed her that Caeled was out of
     way, so she rocked back, shifted her grip on
     morningstar, and swung it through its deadly art~ agwil,

    




    ere
    
    He
    ght
    
    sed,
    e of
     the
    
 redi
       9
       r.
   ctly in
    avor-
    at her
    ce, the
    a unit.
    with its
    fense.
    ed the
    
    of the
    on the
    c again,
    
    Morgan Llywelyn & Michael Scoff
    
    261
    
    this time finishing the destruction of the three Bredi in
    one great sweep. For good measure Gwynne stamped
    one stone foot on the nearest Bredi as it fell to the ground
    and listened with satisfaction to the snapping of its ribs.
     Meanwhile the thing with no face had edged closer to
    Caeled, separating him from the Stone Warrior by
    menacing him with a ripple-edged dagger crusted with
    gore. One glance told Caeled that if the wound it made
    did not kill him, the filth on the blade would. Nazariel had
    once explained the ancient belief that death and disease
    were carried by dirt, and subsequent reading in the Great
    Library had convinced Caeled he was right. The theory
    was no more bizarre than some of the other discoveries
    from the Elder Tim,--z
    
     Not being able to read the eyes of the Bredi who was
    about to attack him was a decided disadvantage, Caeled
    found. But Armadiel had taught him to interpret the
    subtle shifts of body weight and stance. When the Bredi
    gestured with his left hand but lunged with his right,
    Caeled ignored the distracting move and concentrated on
    the blade, bringing his left hand up, positioning it so the
    point of the dagger struck the center of his metal palm.
     The blade snapped.
     In the moment of indecision while the creature tried to
    understand what had happened, Caeled chopped its
    windpipe. At the same moment Gwynne struck the Bredi
    in the back with her morningstar, and the spine snapped
    with an audible crack.
    
     Gwynne glanced at Caeled's metal hand. "A useful
    weapon," she murmured.
     The Scholar rapped his human knuckles against her
              94
    
    stony lorearm. Ettective armor," he countered.
     I would trade it tomorrow for ordinary flesh."
     Caeled surveyed the silver hand. "So would I," he

    




    CHArTER fORTY-TWO
    
      Kichal moved through the remains of Baddalau
    slowly calling the Bred to order, dragging them away fror
    the last bloody scraps upon which they feasted, forcin
    them into some semblance of a formation in the Ceni
  Courtyard so he could take a head count. Cleanup work.,
      Kichal was one of the few humans, and officially M
      Commander, of the army of the Bred. Plucked froro
      lonely guard post by Sarel herself, he had spent thre
      nights in her bed ... and on the fourth morning,
    placed in charge of her army.
      He was almost certa ' in that was the sequence of eve
    but his recollection of the time before Sarel
    fragmentazy. Memories of his nights of passion with 0
    Empress of Barrow were vivid, however, and still had 6
    power to arouse him.
      Kichal knew he must have had a life before, but it ha
    faded like a bad dream. He rarely thought about it excil
    when he was very tired, or in the lethargy following battl
    Then faces and images meandered through his mini
    Some of them were surely people he had once known.
    and forgotten.
      Once when he was marching down the High Way i
    Barrow a woman came screaming out of the crowd u
    threw herself on him, calling him by a name he did n4
    recognize and purnmelling him with her fists.
      He flung her aside. Her head made a sickening som
    when it struck the stone gutter.

    




    Morgan Llywelyn & Michael Scott
    
    263
    
     After walking on a few paces, he looked back. A boy of
    ten or eleven cycles was crouched over her sprawled
    form, staring in his direction with eyes narrowed by hate.
    Kichal had shrugged at the time, indifferent to the
    emotions of small boys.
     But sometimes the faces of the woman and the boy,
    maddeningly familiar, came back to haunt his darkest
    hours.
     Kichal grabbed the ears of a boar-headed Bredi and
    pulled the warrior off the well-chewed remains of a corpse
    1~ing amid the shreds of his robe. The uneaten hand of the
    body still clutched a staff. The beast snarled at being
    dragged from its prey ... then cowered in submission when
    it looked into Kichars face.
     Sometimes the commander of the Bred wondered
    what his warriors saw when they looked at him. He had
    stared at his own face in mirrors but could see nothing out
    of the ordinary. He was handsome, or so Sarel had said.
    His features were those common to men of the Steppes:
    broad cheekbones, a sensuous mouth, a deep strong jaw.
    But he was taller and better proportioned than most of
    lis people. He wore his raven hair cropped close to his
    skull and went beardless in the Southern fashion.
     When Kichal stared at his eyes in the mirror he could
     not recall what color they had been originally. Now iris
     and pupil alike were blood-red.
    
    I in
    Ind
    not
    
    Ind.
    
     Is that what frightened his warriors?
     If so, he was glad, for he needed whatever power he
    could get to control the bestial army of the Bred.
     One by one his human officers joined him in the ruins
    of Baddalaur. Like him, their eyes betrayed the adjust-
    ments the Duet had made. Their eyes were milky and
    dead looking, however; only their commander had orbs of
    flame.
     "Report," he commanded harshly.
     'We lost sixty of the -Bred. We found corpses for
    
    fifty-two. Eight scouts are unaccounted for."

    




    264
    
    SILVERHAND
    
     "Does anyone survive here?"
     "None have survived."
      Kichal nodded. "Find the missing scouts," he said to
    one of the officers. "Take warriors whose sense of smell is
    highly developed. When you locate the missing, alive or
    dead, bring them back here. We will wait for you."
      While he waited, Kichal ordered the corpses of dead
    Bredi laid out in the Courtyard. As they were being
    collected the Commander wandered around the College.
      He felt he must surely know something about Bad-
    dalaur; the place was famous. But searching for the
    memories was like trying to hold water in a sieve.
    "Destroy it," Sarel had ordered, and Kichal had hastened
    to obey, never questioning. His task was made easier
    because the Duet had first directed Voids into this den
    of ... insurgents? Rebels?
      Why, he found himself wondering tardily, had it been
    necessary to destroy Baddalaur? What was here that was
    so dangerous?
      Kichal had been looking forward to a pitched battle; he
    wanted to match his troops against worthy opponents.
    Instead they had encountered monks who offered
    pathetically little resistance.
      Could it be that the brothers were sorcerers who had
    been plotting to overthrow the twins through magic?
     Pondering the mystery, Kichal rambled on.
     The Great Library lay in ruins. What the Void had
    
    taken had simply collapsed as a result of structu
    damage. He entered warily, sidestepping a fallen timbe
    then crouched on the floor to leaf through debris, loold
    for anything of value.
      His fingers touched sheets of kenaf ... no, not ken
    Paper. That was it, paper. He smiled to himself, pleased
    he had remembered the word. Paper, ancient
    priceless.
      Kichal stood up and looked around with renewe
    interest. This place had housed countless volumes; he h

    




    page.
    
    What did thev all mean?
    
    Moman Llvwelvn & Michael Scott
    
    265
    
    never imagined so many books in one place. All ruined now,
    but still . . . He shuffled his feet through tumbled
    manuscripts, flipping them over so he could stare down at
    the letters and sigils inscribed so painstakingly on page after
    
     I.Ake a feather from on high, a single sheet spiralled
    down through the air, planing on currents Kichal could
    not feel. He plucked it out of the air and held it to the
    light, frowning. For an instant the symbols on the page
    seemed to shift and shamen and he almost understood
    
    them; then they blurred back into gibberish.
    
    , With a sense of disappointment he could not explain,
    Kichal balled the paper in his fist and tossed it into a
    
    comer.
    
    When he examined the dead Kichal made a thorough
    
    investigation of their wounds. As part of his report to we
    Duet he must explain the type, nature, and severity of all
    injuries, and determine what weapons had done the
    damage. This information would be given to the Breeder
    to ensure that the next generation of the Bred would be
    
    more resistant.
    
     He was puzzled by several fatalities in which bones
    were not only broken but appeared to be mashed
    
    not
     ral
     er,
     ng
    
    naf.
    ased
    and
    
    ewed
    e had
    
    together. Incredibly powerful blows had hammered the
    slain Bredi, and Kichal could not identify the weapon
    capable of such damage. Some of the dead monks, those
    who had wom white robes, seemed to have attempted to
    use swords or knives but no blade he knew would -have
    
    inflicted the iniu es he was seeing.
    
    The next ~Zeneration of the Bred must be prepared to
    
    face the unknownA anon He would tell the twins.
    
     One of his human officers came running across the
    Courtyard toward him. 'We have found the missing
    
    scouts," he said breathlessly.
     "So? Where are they?"
    
    'We did not bring them back with us. We thought you

    





    




    266
    
    SILVERHAND
    
    had better come see them just as we found them;
    together, and farther on, the other six. Follow me
    shall take vou to them."
    
      Kichal read the signs of struggle on the distu
    earth.
      Two broken bolts from crossbows lay where they
    fallen. At first he thought they had missed their targets
    until he discovered that the tips were blunted as if the
    had struck some impenetrable object.
      One of the Bredi scouts lay a little farther on with
    look of horror frozen on its inhuman face. Clutched in it
    paw was an iron-tipped flail with metal stars wovenin
    the strips of leather. The stars were also blunted, some o
    the Y)oints broken off. No flesh adhered to the stars;
    
    had not struck skin, then.
      The second Bredi was lying almost on top
    companion. It had been killed by a massive blow to th,
    top of its head, but the wound that interested
    to its mouth.
      Most of the creature's teeth were missing.
    snapped off close to the gums, others broken and falle
    back into its throat.
      Kichal felt the faint, cold breath of an emotion he
    not experienced in the three cycles he had commande
    the Bred: fear.
      The condition of the remaining scouts added ano
    element to the puzzle. Although he felt the first two
    been killed by a single opponent, it appeared that
    working in unison had slain the six. There was evidence o
    two beings, one heavy enough to leave deep indentation
    in the damp soil of the riverbank, the other li& an
    quick, with dancing feet that hardly damaged a blade
    grass.
      TWO to kill six - and three of those six were the sauriai
    stock for whom Sarel had such high hopes. 'Th
    invincible," she had boasted.

    




    Morgan Llywelyn & Michaei Scott
    
    267
    
     They were dead, now.
     As he followed the corpses back to Baddalaur, Kichal
    wondered how he was going to report his discoveries to
    the Duet. Someone or something apparently had escaped
    the destruction of Baddalaur and had killed a number of
    the Bred along the way.
     Kichal felt the whisper of fear again; the twins had no
    tolerance for failure.
    
    ere
     n
    
    had
    ded
    
    ther
    had
    two
    ce of
      IIS
  and
      of
    
aurian
      are

    




    CHArTER fORTY-THRIE:E
    
     This was the ultimate passion.
      She had come close to it before with Lares yet neve
    felt the union to be absolute; there was always flesh an(
    bone in the way.
      Until Lares with his ceaseless questing discove
    another attribute of the Voids.
      The Voids existed in the physical world but could
    projected into the Aethyra. Building on this knowl d
    Lares speculated that it would be possible to move
    place to place through the Voids, as if through tunne
    His theory was as yet incomplete, but in forgotte
    manuscripts in the neglected libraries of Barrow he h
    uncovered fragmentary'evidence that the ancients h
    used the Voids in a similar fashion.
     Sarel wondered what it would be like to travel throu
    
    a Void in the Aethyra. AsIdng the question was le
    step in a process which inevitably led, for her,
    demanding the answer.
      First she experimented with prisoners and slaves, usil
    her own servants when these others were in shor:u'
    f
    Drugged wines and meats or poisoned per ume lul
    them into the deep sleep of unconsciousness in which
    spirit drifted from the body in search of dreams.
    would be waiting in the Aethyra to ensnare the u
    spirit and force it into a shape mimicIdng its fleshly she
    Then she pushed that shape into the Aethyra Void.

    




      5
    om
    els.
    en
    had
    had
    
     gh
     fir's,
    r. to
    
    using
       0
    
     the
    Sarel
     ary
     shell.
    
    Morgan Llywelyn & Michael Scott
    
    269
    
     Occasionally - though not always - the body would
    reappear in another place, though by that time it did not
    
    resemble human flesh.
    
     Gradually she had refined the process, spending
    considerable flesh and blood. When she felt confident
    enough she projected her strong spirit into the Aethyra
    Void, willing it to travel to various destinations. She did
    not, however, consider the process trustworthy enough to
    
    risk her own vulnerable flesh.
    
     She next expe mented with shitting her consciousness
    into the miniature Voids she had sown within the living
    bodies of her servants. initially some of their minds had
    disintegrated under the invasion, the brain unable to
    accept the intruder. But slowly, patiently, she had
    mastered the technioue.
    
     Now she possessed the ability to look through the eyes
    of others, to see what thev saw, to feel what thev felt. it
    
    wq,z flip "Ifimnfi- nizzinn f-bp "If-imnfP erience
    
    Kichal moved stiffly.
    He could feel Sarel within him. He could taste her
    
    i)erfumed IiDs feel the silken caress of her hair, the moist
    
    heat of her flesh
    
    She was part of him, looking through his eyes.
    
     He had made his report earlier, sent a peist message
    bearer soaring into the evening sky. His written observa-
    fions had been to a minimum, no more than a list of
    casualties and the comment that possibly two had
    
    escaped from Baddalaur.
     As he wrote the message he wondered, fleetingly, when
    md how he had learned to write. But he forgot the
    
    question a1most at once.
     Sarel entered him in the still hour before dawn, as he
    
    dia f in fba onrnmancl feanf c"rrr-%"-nrIprI 67 cnndn of'Picers

    




    
    Kichal awakened abruptly, intensely aware of her.
     Trembling, he threw a cloak over his shoulders.
    
    II

    




    270
    
    SILVERHAND
    
      She walked him from the tent and down to the field
    where the corpses of the dead Bredi awaited burning.
    Using Kichal's hands, Sarel examined each corpse care-
    fully. She even pressed his fingers into the wounds to
    measure their depth.
      Then she took him farther, to the river's edge where
    Caeled had emerged from the underground stream and
    met the Stone Warrior. She made Kichal's body kneel on
    the sodden earth and run the palms of his hands over:
    footprints and crushed grass, charting the ebb and flow
    the battle there.
      Her anger burned through him, white hot, ice cold. He
    cringed in agony.
      "Find these two, whoever they are," her voice thun e
    through his brain. "Bring them to me in Barrow, and b
    them alive. Alive!"
      Then the pain turned to pleasure as Sarel left Kichal
    shudderinj~r, on the riverbank.

    




    ~r
    )f
    
    ~e
    
    -d
    ag
    
    ial
    
    CHArTIER fORTY-fOVR
    
     'Will they follow?"
     'Tossibly," Gwynne replied, pitching her voice low.
    Sound carried in the clear air of the mountains. "When
    they find the warriors we killed they may decide to come
    after us. If it was their intention to destroy everyone in
    Baddalaur, I should not think they will want you to live."
     'They have to find me first," Caeled said shortly. He
    turned his concentration to the winding trackway, picking
    safe footing amid rocks and shale as he trotted forward,
    followed by the Stone Warrior.
     He knew where he was. He had run along this trackway
    every morning for the past six cycles, no matter what the
    weather. In the beginning the run had been agonizing: his
    lungs burning, his metal hand spoiling his balance. But
    Armadiel had insisted. "You must build up more stamina.
    Too much time spent in the I.Abrary makes you soft."
     So Caeled had ran until the pain became a pleasure
    and he completed the course in ever shorter time. At last
    Armadiel questioned if he was actually running the whole
    distance'to the head of the trail which led to a valley
    beloNv * Caeled had promptly challenged the Seeker to a
    race and left him far behind.
     There was no pleasure in the run now. Every step hurt,
     not with a physical pain but something far deeper, the
     wrenching bitterness of cowardice. I should have stayed
     in Baddalaur and fought to the end, Caeled told himself. I
     could have killed more of the Bred.

    




    272
    
    SILVERHAND
    
      And then? asked some layer of logic built into his brain
    by Nanri. Eventually they would have overwhelmed and
    killed you. That would truly be the end of all our hopes.
      Inside his sodden robe Caeled could feel the oilskin
    pouch that held his journal and Nanri's last message t6
    him. It lay against his skin, over his heart.
      When Gwynne's stone fingers touched his
    flinched automatically. She did not resent his reaction.
    
                                      shoulder he
    
    Even the Snowscalds, her friends and sisters-in-arms ' had,,
    been repelled by her touch.
     Caeled halted and Gwynne, with pointing finge
    directed his attention down the slope to their right,
    through a sparse scattering of trees to a small town on the
    bank of a river; the same stream, only farther down, that
    had bome him away from the College. Caeled had never
    ventured as far as the little community. He knew of
    occasion when Nazariel had treated a plague that Ze'
    through the population, taking every third person, an h
    also knew that the locals supplied fish and vegetables to
    the kitchens at Baddalaur, but he had never heard the
    place referred to as anything other than "the Town."
     Now as he gazed down from the hillside above, he
    wondered what had alerted the Stone Warrior. At
    glance he saw nothing more than a huddle of houses
    sheds protected by a palisade of pointed stakes design
    to keep casual predators out and livestock in.
      Then Caeled realized there was no sound.
     No short black cattle lowing, no curly-homed shee
    bleating.
      No human sounds either.
      He stiffened, recalling a similar silence.
      Where were the children? The women on the
                                             'hj
                                              0
    
    bank washing clothes, the men tilling the fields?
      No smoke curled up from cooking fires into the
                                           c-ked
    afternoon sky. The gates of the palisade gaped open: a sho j
    mouth. The track that led out ofthe village was churned to a
    of mud as if an army had passed through recently.

    




    Moroan Limelm & Michael Scott
    
    273
    
     Almost with a sense of relief, Caeled realized the Bred
    had come through the town.
    
    Standing beside him, Gwynne said, 7hey may ave
    
    guards behind a nominal garrison." Her breath
    
    blowing past his ear felt like stone dust.
     He started to suggest, 'We could go around . . . " when
    he realized that would mean crossing open ground. The
    townspeople had cleared the surrounding fields for
    farmland. If any of the Bred were lurking in the village, it
    would be too dangerous to approach them across fields
    with no cover.
    
     Then he noticed a few small boats moored at riverls
    edge a few hundred paces from the palisade. Boats that
    could carry them away from the vicinity of Baddalaur,
    leaving no trail for their enemies to follow. Glancing at
    Gwynne, he saw that she was looking in the same
    direction.
    
    eep
    
 river
     late
     asea
    
     He suggested, 'We could stay right here and wait for
    nightfall, then trv to to the boats under cover of darkness."
                get
     Had it been possible, GAynne would have given her
    head a negative shake. But the stiffened skin on her neck
    made such gestures awkward and she had schooled
    herself against them. Where her body was jointed she still
    had full mobility, but aside from her facial muscles, the
    lesser range of physical expression was lost to her.
    'Waiting here would waste too much time," she told
    Caeled. "Make it easier for pursuers to catch up with us."
    She narrowed her eyes and gazed thoughtfully at the
    town. 'We need to know if they have left some sort of
    mison behind - and if so, how large." Her teeth - still
    
    ivory, Caeled noted - flashed a surprising grin. "Only
    one wav to find out!" she said cheerfuRv. "Come on."
    
    The Bredi existed
    
     It had no concept of self or time, of past or present. It
    knew warmth and chill, hunj4er and thirst. And fear.
    
    Always fear.

    




    274
    
    SILVERHAND
    
     The female creature with amber hair - a creature like
    and yet unlike itself - filled the Bredi with terror. Th
    male creature with eyes of blood was also frighte
    though the Bredi did not know why. But the emotio
    were instinctive and powerful.
      The Bredi could also experience pleasure.
     The rapture of killing, of seizing smoothskins and.
    rending them with teeth and talons, lapping up hot saltl~
    blood, devouring still-quivering meat ...
      Fulfillment. Beyond the nagging physical hunger
    was always there - together with the fear - lay a
    of fulfillment that could only be achieved by
    the moment of extinguishing life in some other be
    Bredi felt a dim sense of having accomplished some
    very important.
     On a day when there was no killing its existen
    seemed futile and wasted.
     There were other creatures like itself. Their forms
    were different, but their skills and desires were identicaL.
    They lived to kill.
     They had killed many., . . before. Before was the tim
    before now. They had swooped down on a mass of
    smoothskins and feasted well. The others had g9n
    somewhere now, but this Bredi had been left behind
    a few like itself to stand guard. If any softskins happen
    by, the guards would be rewarded for their service
    havinv- the feast all to themselves.
    
     Wistfully the Bredi waited, fantasizing in its clou
    mind about tasty morsels. Salty eyes. Fat breasts. Ten
    livers.
      Instinct made it look up.
     Vision blurred briefly as its slit pupils adjusted-
    distance.
     Two softskins approaching. Yes. No? One had a s
    that did not look soft.
     The concept baffled the Bredi. A thing must be one or
    other It had no mental capacity to understand exceptions.

    




    Morgan Llywelyn & Michael Scott
    
    )y
    
    to
    
    ffie
    
    275
    
     Then the breeze blowing down from the mountains
    brought an unmistakable scent to the Bredi, who licked
    its scaly lips at the fragrance of flesh. The second being, at
    least, was edible.
     Dropping to all fours, the saurian Bredi slunk toward
    the two figures. Meanwhile the other Bredi guards began
    to emerge from their posts around the perimeter of the
    palisade, drawn by the odor of live meat.
    
    I When Caeled and Gwynne saw the first Bredi they
    rushed forward together without bothering to confer.
     Something rustled in the bushes clustered at the foot
    of the palisade. As she reached the nearest clump of
    shrubbery Gwynne's massive morningstar swept through
    the air and disappeared among the leaves. There was a
    thud, a howl, then the weapon emerged dripping blood
    from its spiked head.
     A Bredi leaped onto the Stone Warrior's back, talons
    raldng her leather jerkin. She tried to dislodge the
    creature but it clung tenaciously with legs and even its
    tafl, which it wrapped around her waist. The jaws opened
    beside Gwynne's neck.
     A veined frill lifted along the saurian's spine as the
    poison sacs on either side of its mouth prepared to pump
    their venom.
     But before the jaws could close, a metal hand seized
    the frill and ripped it from the creature's body to lay bare
    the backbone beneath. The Bredi gave an agonized
    squeal that broke off abruptly when Caeled chopped its
    spinal cord in two. As it slumped to the ground its
     comrades rushed to the attack.
      With momingstar and silver hand Caeled and the
     Stone Warrior battled back to back for a second time.
      They had killed two more Bredi when the remaining
     tbree hesitated as if becoming aware for the first time that
     they were in danger. But after a moment's pause broken
     only by the sound of harsh breathing, they lunged forward
    
    11

    




    276
    
    SILVERHAND
    
    again. An arcing sweep of the morningstar knocked one'
    aside. The other two appeared to think Caeled the easier
    target and went for him in unison.
      Within moments, the pair of saurians lay on
    ground. One still twitched spasmodically as the other die
    with a nauseous belching of internal gasses.
      Caeled and the Stone Warrior looked at one anothe
    'Well done," they said simultaneously; then laughed.
      The sound of her own laughter took Gwynne b~
    surprise. She could not remember the last time s
    laughed.
      With her foot she nudged the twitching body, turning it
    over. The thing was obviously dead, its movements
    mindless discharge of energy. "Some sort of big lizar
    she commented, "but not like any lizard I ever s
    before."
      "In Baddalaur there were creatures like apes
    wolves and werebeasts as well," Caeled told her.
    these . . . " he crouched to study the one that had belch
    gas. "These are perfect fighting machines."
      "Not so perfect," Gwynne pointed out. 'We killed
    them." She laid down the morningstar and stretched, NA4
    an effort, trying to ease her perpetual discomfort.
      Caeled cast a glance toward the Bredi Gwynne
    knocked to one side. The thing lay on its belly a f w
                                                                        'e p
    away, revealing scales like armor plate running the len
    of its back. The Stone Warrior's weapon had struck
    saurian on the side of the head, slamming against a
    skull studded with small horny protuberances.
      With grudging admiration Caeled remarked
    wouldn't take much to make creatures
    ble."
    
                                 like these in
    
      The Stone Warrior replied, "Perhaps. But right
    had better see if they have left anyone alive insid
      Cautiously, she and Caeled eased through th
    gateway. What they found confirmed Caele&s
    There were no living beings, only uneaten o

    




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    Morgan Llywelyn & Michael Scott
    
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    like refuse from a slaughterhouse upon the bloody earth.
     When they were certain none of the townspeople
    remained alive, Caeled gave Gwynne a weary smile. "Let's
    see if we can find a boat that will hold your weight and get
    out of here."
    
     Flat yellow sht-pupilled eyes snapped open.
     The Bredi tried to move, but there was no feeling
    below its neck. It lay and waited. There was nothing to do
    
    but wait
    
     Eventually - the creature had no real sense of time
    the blood-eyed softskin came and bent over it. Inside its
    skull the Bredi tried to shrink away, but when the softskin
    only stared without touching it the Bredi relaxed slightly.
     Terror attacked in full measure, however, when the
    creature realized the amber-haired female was somehow
    looking out of thThen there was pain; excruciating fire-wrapped knife-
                                  inside its head,
                                  commands that
    
    bladed pain! A crawling insect slithered
    forcing it to remember, hissing insistent
    dragged images into the forefront of its brain.
    
    The stoneskin.
    The softskin with the nwtal claw.
    
    TL_ L    .1 7- . &L
    
        Uut, , "IPP '19 W U, V'WUt1V'1.
     The memories came bubbling up and were taken
    direct from the saurian mind. Their taking was painful,
    the Bredi tried to cringe, but its muscles would not
    
    respond.
    
     When the blood-eyed one straightened up and walked
    away, at first there was only relief The Bredi stared out
    
    wi its warped vision, waiting.
    
    After a long time the dog-rats and carrion-spiders
    
    came.
    
    Z~

    




    CHArTER fORTY-fIVE
    
      'Where are we?" Gwynne grunted as they hauled
    boat out of the river and onto a bank of slippery red
      Caeled shook his head. "I'm not sure." He helped
    Stone Warrior drag the wooden boat up the slope
    concealing clump of bushes. "I do know we've co
    south," he added, trying in spite of his weariness.
    visualize a map of the Nations he had studied
    Baddalaur.
      Baddalaur was situated high in the Spine, the range
    mountains that ran the length of the Seven Nations.
    land to the south of ' the College consisted of sc
    woodlands and abandoned farm sites for the most p
    and was dotted with lakes and bisected by rivers.
    farther south, where the Spine gave way to ro'
    foothills, the Forest of Taesir sprawled across the cou
    side. The almost Anpenetrable blanket of trees
    interrupted only by the Brethan Mountains bordering
    Kingdom of Brethany.
      Having been carried south by the current for rn
    the day, Caeled was certain they had travelled a con
    able distance. At one point they had taken a left-hand
    in the river and almost immediately found therns
    swept into roiling rapids. The oars in the boat
    useless against the power of the water, and the wei
    the Stone Warrior unbalanced the craft. They could
    even hear each other shout above the roar of the
    it foamed through a series of increasingly narrow gu

    




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    ry-
     as
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     r-
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     s
     re
     of
     not
     er as
    es.
    
    Mofgan Llywelyn & Michael Scott
    
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     Caeled fully expected to die. Then, as the turbulence
    began to nauseate him, he almost hoped he would die
    He clung to the edge of the boat and gritted his teeth.
     Several times they were slammed against rocks in the
    riverbed, but instead of smashing to bits the boat was
    saved by its construction of willow wood and woven
    reeds. The materials absorbed the blow, allowing the
    vessel to shudder violently throughout its length but hold
    
    together.
    
     As the light faded from the sky the torrent broadened
    into a gently flowing river. Weary beyond measure,
    Caeled halfheartedly picked up an oar again, then turned
    toward the Stone Warrior. "I'm sick of moving water." he
    
    said.
    
    ,,And I.,,
    
    With one accord thev rowed toward the riverbank.
    
     No sooner did they reach the shallows than Gwynne
    heaved herself out of the boat and dragged the craft, with
    a protesting Caeled still in it, to the shore.
     "You had no need to do that," he said as he clambered
    
    out
    
    "I wanted to feel something solid under my feet -
    
     "But ... A ... you're very ... heavy. When you
    you leave deep indentations in the earth. If the water had
    been deep, could you swim?"
    
    Her green eyes glittered. "I doubt it ve ' seriously."
                                ly
    
    "Or float?"
    "Surely not."
    
    "You would have drowned, then! I could not pull you
    
     "And that did not, frighten you?"

    




     "No."
     Caeled nodded to himself, absorbing the information.
    This woman had no fear of death. Her story must be
    
    interesting indeed.
    
    They found themselves on a narrow striD of mossv
    
    ",

    




    1~ 1 .
    
    280
    
    SILVERHAND
    
    ground at the edge of woodland. Beyond the nearest trees
    was no glimpse of light, only a melting into deeper
    darkness.
      Caeled said, 'We must be close to the Forest of Taesir."
      "How close?" Gwynne wanted to know as she stood
    beside him, peering into the woods. She smelled of damp
    stone and cold earth. "Taesir is near my homeland, for I
    was born in Brethany. During cold winters the Gor Allta
    sometimes came out of the forest to raid our outlying
    Vill    S.11
      Caeled had begun to shiver as the evening air chilled
    his wet clothing. "I don't know exactly where we are, he
    said regretfully. "If we could see a recognizable mountain
    peak I might be able to tell you. Or tonight, if there are n
    clouds and we can see the stars, perhaps I shall have a
    better idea. I was taught in Baddalaur to find my way by
    the stars." He broke off suddenly as a vivid memory of old
    Nanri, patiently pointing out the various sentinels in the
    sky, overwhelmed him with grief
      To distract himself he asked Gwynne, "Did you ever
    see one of the Gor Allta? Is there really such a thing as 2A
    ape werebeast?"
      Gwynne stared somberly into the forest. "Oh they're
    real enough. My father had a hunting lodge on the frin gle
    of the Brethan Mountains. I would have been ten
    eleven cycles - when we last stayed there. On
    occasion a band of Gor Allta got into the stabl s and
    ten of our peris. The remaining two were so rrified I
    injured themselves beyond saving and had to be put
    down."
      Caeled shruggid. "Could it have been some i
                                      171
                                     e
                                     te
    
    else ... mountain lion? Bear?"
      "No," Gwynne said simply. She began to walk toward
    the trees.
      "Where are you going?"
      When she had to turn her entire body to look at him,
    Caeled realized she could not twist her head on her neck.

    




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    Morgan Llywelyn & Michael Scott
    
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    "Are you not hungry?"she asked.
     To his embarrassment, Caeled's stomach promptly
    rumbled an audible reply.
     The Stone Warrior turned back toward the woods.
     Caeled followed the woman through the bush. She
    moved with what he considered surprising swiftness, now
    that he had been forced to consider how heavy she must
    be. She paralleled the riverbank until she discovered what
    -she was looking for: a broad area of trampled mud where
    the forest animals came to the river's edge to drink.
     "Stay here," she said firmly.
     Caeled obeyed without question; she obviously knew
    what she was doing.
     As he watched from the edge of the trees Gm~ynne
    walked down onto the muddy verge. Crouching on her
    haunches, tucking her arms tight against her body, she
    abruptly took on the appearance of an outcropping of
    weathered stone.
     Caeled grinned with delight at the perfection of her
    camouflage. Even knowing she was there he could not
    see her.
     While the Stone Warrior waited immobile at the
    watering area, he looked for a more comfortable - and
    less visible - place to wait with her. Reaching over his
    head, he caught one of the lower branches of a
    needlefern tree and hauled himself up amid the graceful
    foliage.
      There was still enough lingering daylight to keep the
     needlefern from assuming its hunting posture, so it was
     safe enough. As Caeled settled on a sturdy branch with
     his back against the tree trunk, he recalled the last time
     he had climbed into a needlefern. That was the night
     Annadiel rescued him.
      He owed his mQre recent rescue to the Stone Warrior.
     Thanks to her he was still alive and able to climb another
     needlefern.
      In the green dusk of the tree Caeled wondered if it was

    




    282
    
    91LVRR~UND
    
    mere coincidence-or the hand of the gods.
      The Seekers of the Way had not encouraged
    practice of worshipping individual gods and goddesses."
    Baddalaur they had taught that the spirit, the dMne
    essence, existed within every man and woman. Many
    sought contact with that essence. Some came close. Only
    a few ever dared claim success however.
    
      Caele&s thoughts returned to the Seeker he knew best:
    Armadiel. With an effort he kept himself from recalling
    the last glimpse he had of the man in the wreckage of
    Baddalaur, and remembered instead the strength and
    dedication of his friend.
      Aside from the fact that both had rescued Cae
    Armadiel and Gwynne seemed to have nothing in
    common. The Seeker had been a very human being, kind
    beneath his gruff exterior and gentle when he thought n4 '
    one was looking. Gwynne was totally different. C~.",
    thought her as tough as her petrified skin, a warrior to
    stony fingertips, with no feminine softness and e
                                        v r'
    left of normal humanity. He saw no similarities bet'.
    her and Armadiel.
     Taking advantage of the first quiet moment in that
    and weary day, Caeled took the little bound book of his
    journal from its oilskin pouch and scribbled down his
    thoughts. But he was too tired to write much.
      This day Baddalaur died.
      This day I used my skills to kill.
      The Duet have cruelly, callously destroyed the
    men.
      I lost manyjriends today. Many I respected, afetv
    dear to me, two I loved.
      But in destroying Baddalaur, the twins sowed thes
    of their own destruction, for the location of the A
    was revealed to me.
      Once I had nothing, then Baddalaur gave me a
              Now I dedicate myfuture to the destruction ofthe tt)3''
                                     j
      I have gained a companion of sorts, a strange

    




    Morgan Llywelyn & Michael Scoff
    
    283
    
    woman who wears flesh of stone. We will travel together
    for a while, I think, although ...
     His writing was interrupted by a sudden movement
    below.
     As Caeled watched from the tree a fawn, big-eyed,
    delicately striped from ears to puffball tail, stepped from
    the undergrowth almost directly in front of the Stone
    Warrior. The creature did not seem to see her at all,
    though its moist nostrils dilated and sniffed the air.
      The Stone Warrior gave off no human scent.
     The fawn took a hesitant step toward the water. Faster
    than the eye could follow, Gwynne's arm shot out and an
    unyielding hand closed on the little animal's neck.
      Caeled heard the merciless breaking of bones.
     No similarities between her and Annadiel at all, he
    thought as he jumped down from the needlefern.
     Unwilling to light a fire as night closed around them,
    they ate the flesh raw, after first peeling back the skin and
    washing the meat in the river to clean it of blood.
     Gwynne was almost invisible in the darkness, but
    Caeled could bear her teeth tearing meat from bone with
    enthusiasm matched only by his own.
      It had been a long time since he last ate.
     When the edge was off their hunger, Gwynne broke
    the silence by saying, "You mean to kill the twins."
      "I am determined to destroy them," he replied.
      Her voice was hard. "And I am determined that nothing
     Al happen to them until they have restored me. Besides,
     Caele& Silverhand ... if the Duet are as powerful as you
     say, how can you possibly expect to defeat them?'
      Caeled started to answer, then hesitated.
       In the ruins, of Baddalaur it liadl seemecl simple
     enough. He had the location of the Arcana in his hand; all
     he had to do was find the actual artifacts and turn their
     poNver   t the twins.
       But =
       His instruction was incomplete. Nanri could not have

    




    284
    
    SILVERHAND
    
    told him exactly how to use the Arcana without reve
    that he knew their location, which the wily old Sch
    had not done until the end When it was too late to
    
    him anything more.
     And now even the Great Library that might have
    instructions hidden somewhere in its mvriad manuse
    
    chaos.
    
    was destroyed.
      It was left to Caeled to discover, on his own, how to
    the forces locked in the Arcana to reverse the proce~
    
      He felt as if a chill wind blew over him. His ear
    shivering returned and he pinched his nostrils shut I
    stifle a sneeze. For some reason he did not want
    Stone Warrior to think he was falling ill, shol
    weakness.
      'We might be enemies," Gwynne said very softly.
      'What? Why?" Caeled strained his eyes with
    attempt to see her in the darkness but she was on~ a
    vague shape, like a stone outcropping. Cold and h a
    unyielding. "Do you mean we could be enemies beca.
    want to kill the Duet while you need them alive to
    you? That's no reason f6r us to oppose one another,"
    said to the silent stone. "Better if we be allies.
      Gwynne made no reply.
      He had seen her fight, had watched her
    warriors of the Bred with arrogant ease. Suddenly he ha
    little doubt she would do the same thing to him if
    thought he stood in her way.
      Caeled gathered himself in the darkness, tensing
    muscles, flexing the joints in his metal hand.
      "Allies," said Gwynne's voice directly in front of him
      Caeled's mouth went dry. He had not heard her move.
      "Allies," she repeated. There was another silence. The
    she asked, "Can you give me your reasons for wanting
    kill the twins?"
      She had a habit of being so blunt she took him by
    surprise. "Because ... because the world must have o
    
    4,

    




   e
    s
    
    e  .n
     to
    
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    er
    
    Morgan Llywelyn & Michael Scott
    
    285
    
    and discipline," he replied as he had been taught. 'The
    Duet are out of control, they are destroying order and
    replacing it with chaos."
     Gwynne gave a derisive snort. 'That's no real reason. It
    comes from your head and not your gut. Tell me again:
    Why do you want to kill the twins?"
     Caeled was glad of the darkness so the woman could
    not see the confusion on his face. He had been trained as
    the Spoken One until he accepted his destiny without
    thought, but he had never been questioned in this way.
    He started to repeat the statement about chaos and order,
    then stopped. Listened to the words in his mind.
      Shook his head.
     No, that was not the reason. Not if he was honest with
    himself
     In spite of all the high ideals and lofty aspirations he
    had learned at Baddalaur, he was motivated by something
    much more powerful. A gut reason.
     It came down to a matter of personal vengeance, he
    thought grimly.
      'Well?" Gwymne insisted.
     'They killed my mother," Caeled replied in a voice
    stripped of emotion. He could not let himself feel. He
    was back in the room in Ward Point, watching the thing
    that had been his mother soaking into the straw of her
    pitiful bed.
      "Did you love her very much ... your mother?"
      He took a long time before answering. "Yes."
     Gwynne's breath hissed through her teeth. "I have
    worn this stone form for a long time, but I was not the
    only one to suffer. The Void that touched my skin and
    turned it hard took my family, my husband and chil-
    dren ... and even snatched my baby from my back as I
    tied to flee.
     "I was a long time coming to terms with what
    happened. TWinldng, it- & '6oyv~'Ue azz,:Aenk, a t-m-'ak Qk
     nature, I was forced to accept my loss at last because you

    




    r
    
    286
    
    SILVERHAND
    
    cannot endlessly rage against such things, they are
    mindless. So I decided to get on with my life and try to
    find a cure for my affliction.
      "Instead I found you, only to have you tell me the twins
    are controlling the Voids deliberately. How do you"
    suppose that makes me feel?"
      Caeled had steeled himself against his pain, but he had
    no defense against hers. He could only close his eyes.
      'We shall be allies," Gwynne continued. "rogether we
    will hunt down the Duet, you and 1, and avenge our loved
    ones. Perhaps if we have enough power we can force
    them to heal me before we destroy them. I assume you
    think you have sufficient power ... so what is it?"
      She was standing very close to him now. Caeled could
    smell her peculiar scent, could see her pale shape,,
    glimmering in the darkness. "Fhe Arcana," he repfied.'~,
    "The combined forces of the Arca-na are greater than the,'~',
    strength of the twins."
      She dismissed his words with
    "The Arcana is fable."
    
                              another derisive sno J4
    
      Caeled reached into his robe and produced the oilsldn
    pouch from which he took Nanri's precious sheet of
    kenaf. In the morning, when there was sufficient light to
    study the sigils in detail, he would take time to decipher
    the Elder script the Scholar had so proudly used. It wacA
    a strange way like a treat he was saving for himself. F
    now it was enough to hold the page in his silver fingers
    and run his fingers of flesh lightly, reverently, over
    surface.
      "You are wrong," he told Gwynne. His eyes blazed
    the darkness. 'The Arcana are real!"

    




    CHArTER fORTY-SIX
    
     These are the Arcana.
     The Staff and the Stone, the Cup and the Sword.
     Such images are merely artificial constructs serving as
    physical manifestations of that which has no form in the
    tangible world. When they were brought into this world
    their creators gave them these cloaking forms. Could they
    be seen as they really are, the experience would shatter
    human minds.
     Individually they are merely artifacts, but pair any two
    of them and an awesome force gathers. Bring all four
    together and the elements of earth and air, fire and water
    are brought into perfect harmony, setting up resonances
    sufficient to reshape worlds.
     With just one pair of the Arcana the holder is enabled
    to traverse the thirty levels of the Aethyra in the company
    of those whose essence has long since abandoned the
    physical world.
     Possessing but one pair of the Arcana, a person may
    assume any Aethyric form and wear it back into the
    physical world. Thus a man may take on the shape of a
    youth, a beast, a woman if he chooses.
     But should he join two pairs together the pattern thus
    formed will stabilize the very fabric of the Aethyra,
    creating order out of chaos, bringing forth light from
    darkness, altering space and time.
     Such is the power of the Arcana, and for this reason its
    four elements were separated after their construction.

    




    288
    
    SILVERHAND
    
    The secrets of their location were hidden by the Elders.
      Generations later men postulated the e2dstence of the
    Arcana and undertook to search for its components. IT
    time we know they found two: the Staff and the Stone.
      The hiding place of the Cup and the Sword a,~4
    discovery, but the possessor of the first two will have w
    he -needs to find them.
      The Staff and the Stone were secreted in the great an
    ancient city of Gor in the land of Taesir. The proudest (
    the Elders accompanied them to their resting place an
    subsequently devoted their lives to protecting and stU4
    ing the Arcana.
      But the power of one pair of the Arcana - a th
    power, a trickling power compared with that of d
    whole - altered the children of Gor. Imperceptibly
    first, then with shocking changes, normal beings we
    transformed into the bestial creatures now known as t
    Gor Allta.
      Their lineaments are vaguely similar to humanIdnd I
    they are not human; they are atavisms. They
    werebeasts.
     They are legend.
      And it is they who now guard the Staff and the Stoni
    the lost city of Gor in the Forests of Taesir.
                     translated and annotated by Na
                               Scholar of Baddal

    




    CHArTER fORTy_SEVE4 N
    
     jocylyn swore softly as candle grease spattered onto the
    tattered chart. In the gloom scores of eyes watched the
    man seated at the small folding table; only a few of those
    eyes looked human.
     "You're lost." The A7ords were a high-pitched yap.
     "I'm not," jocylyn snapped. "I'm never lost."
     A huge blond wolfhound rose on its hind legs and
    rested its forepaws on the table, regarding the chart with
    earnest, intelligent eyes. A child with identical brown eyes
    and white-gold hair stepped out of the shadows to put her
    hand on the animal's back. When the dog responded with
    a series of whines and growls the child nodded, then told
    jocylyn in a high-pitched voice, "Madran says you should
    turn the chart the other way around."
     In the shadows a dozen beings squealed and cackled
    their various versions of laughter.
     jocylyn's rupful. grin revealed gold teeth gleaming in a
    mouth surrounded by thick beard. "Taking orders from a
    dog now," he grumbled, but he turned the chart around
    and squinted at it afresh. A forefinger with an exceedingly
    black nail tapped a pictograrn of a tiny town. 'We left
    Neer two days ago . . . " He followed a twisting track
    eastward until it diverged. 'We came north along the
    Merchants Way. . . "
      The dog rumbled deep in his shaggy chest. As the child
     began to translate she smiled in amusement, baring a
     mouthful of teeth more canine than human.
    
    iml,

    




    I
    
    290
    
    SILVERHAND
    
      "Madran says you should have turned south to Brethany.
    The people there respect.circuses.-
      Jocylyn nodded. "He may be right, Pup. But it's too late
    now." His finger touched the edge of the Forest of Taesir.,
    cWepre here. Somewhere." He folded up the chart.
    "Tomorrow, my friends. We've had a long day and we're
    all tired; we'll decide what to do tomorrow." He stood up,
    automatically ducking his head in the low wagon. "Secure,
    everything for the night, draw the wagons into a circle
    We camp here."
      The dog whimpered, but before Pup could interp
    Jocylyn held up one hand. "I know, I know, M
    disagrees. But Madran doesn't own this circus, I do. And
    unless Madran can buy me out he takes his orders from
    me. Understood?"
      The dog growled once, then barked.
      "Madran says he wouldn't want to take over this mang'
    circus," Pup announced.
      Jocylyn shook his head as the dog and child disappeared
    into the night. One by one the others who had gathered in
    the Circus Master's wagon made their way outside, leavmij
    Jocylyn alone.
      The big man slumped into his sway-backed chair and
    picked up the chart again. Madran was right, of course,
    Coming east had been a mistake, coming north had been
    a disaster. Jocylyn's Circus of Wonders had made a
    good - though not spectacular - living on the west
    coast, travelling through Galloway, putting on a nightly
    show of magic and mystery. The beasts were always the
    best attraction: creatures from the four comers of the
    Nations, including Madran of the Madra Allta, a wered g
    and his almost-human daughter.
      They had toured the Southlands a few cycles ago )L
    enjoyed a great success ... until the unfortunate incide
    with Sioraf that had forced them to leave Karfondal.
      Ice-cold hands touched the sides of his cheeks and
    jumped. "Siorafl You startled me."

    




    Morgan Llywelyn & Michael Scott
    
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     "You were thinking of Karfondal," the young woman
    said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
     'Why do you say that? As far as I know you cant read
    minds."
     "I cannot," she agreed. Then she leaned forward, her
    rounded breasts pressing against the back of his head, and
    lifted his right hand off the chart. He had been tapping
    Karfondal with his index finger.
     Sioraf walked around the table and sat down on the
    opposite stool, facing jocylyn. Her eyes were a startlingly
    brilliant blue, but in the candlelight her pale face seemed
    disembodied, floating surrounded by a dark tumble of
    curls. She had developed a trick of keeping her lips drawn
    tightly over her teeth when she spoke. "I was not
    
    responsible for what happened in Karfondal.
     jocylyn reached-out and squeezed her hands. "I know
    that, daughter. You must not think of it again."
     'There's nothing stopping us going back," Sioraf replied.
    'We could retrace our steps and take the southern route. I
    simply won't appear as part of the circus. I can go about in
    disguise, I've done it often enough."
     'We could do that."
     "But we won't, I can tell from your voice. Why not?"
     jocylyn sighed. "Because the last promise I made your
     other was that I would always care for our child. The
     ds know I broke every other promise I made her; I'm
     termined to keep that one."
     "Then what will you do?"
     'Turn back to Galloway, I suppose. We don't have
    much choice. Do you know how much we've made over
    the past twenty days? Nothing. The last three towns were
    a disaster."
     "People around here are not interested in circuses or
     freak shows," said the pale girl.
     'They're'worse than not interested. I thought they
     were going to lynch us in that last wretched place. What is
     it they called us?"
    
    I

    




    292
    
    r
    
    SILVERHAND
    
      "Bred," Sioraf replied bitterly. "They accused us of
    being the Bred." Even the sound of the name chilled her.
    "Mat about Barrow?" she asked quickly to change the
    subject.
      The big man slumped in his chair. "I'm not sure. At
    first glance it would seem to be an obvious choice: a
    wealthy society, eager for entertainment and the more
    exotic the better. The Menagerie of the Seven Nations
    should be a great success with the children there: marsh
    lions, mantichores, merrow, dancing Simpan-sai ... and
    even though we do bill them as savage and dangerous to
    give people a thrill, the 're tame enough. Madran can
    y
    control them in his human form and they all obey Pup-"
      "Yet you don't want to go to Barrow," Sioraf said, again
    reading his voice. 'Why?"
      "There are no circuses on the east coast any more' " he
    pointed out. "And no travelling menageries either."
      ,,Is that not good for us?"
      'When I was a youth breaking into this business,"
    Jocylyn reminisced, "there were a dozen shows like ours
    travelling along the coast. Each one had its own specialty.
    I remember the Circus Rufus travelled only with Clan
    Allta. It claimed to have at least one example of every
    werecreature in the Nations. Others like Shore and
    Manns preferred jugglers and tumblers and skydancers.
      'Those were good times. We gathered at every Turn
    the Cycle Festival to barter skills and personnel. That was'
    how I met your mother, she was a star attraction with,
    Micaela's Zoo - the biggest and certainly the In
    successful of the travelling circuses. They had some of ~ '
    Clan Allta too - and a number of even more exoti'
    performers. Micaela was a southern princess, or so the,
    rumor went, who had run off to join a circus when she,'
    was still a child. I bought your mother in the morning and
    wed her in the afternoon. We shared the Communion of
    Blood for the first time that night." Jocylyn sighed, his
    eyes gazing past his daughter into some brighter world.

    




    1W
    
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    293
    
     Sioraf coughed to recapture his attention. His thoughts
    were increasingly inclined to wander. Was it old age?
    Looking at him, it was difficult to decide how old he was.
    Fifty cycles? Sixty? But he had shared blood with a
    vampir, thus drastically slowing the human aging process.
     jocylyn's eyes refocussed on his daughter. "Where was
    V~p
    
     'The disappearance of the circuses?"
     "Aye. Well, now A those shows are gone. At the last
    Turn of the Cycle Festival no one came."
     "How do you know . . . " Sioraf began, then forgot
    herself and grinned. Delicately curved, needle-sharp
    incisors gleamed. "So that's where you were!"
     jocylyn had gone off on his own for ten days last
    season. Looking for new attractions, he claimed. But he
    had brought none back.
     "I heard rumors," the Circus Master said slowly, "that
    the circuses had been rounded up and closed down. It
    was whispered that the owners, the entertainers, the
    animals, even th6se of the Clan Allta had been thrown
    into the dungeons of Barrow at the order of the Duet."
      Sioraf listened silentIv. her white hands folded on the
    
       dge of the table.
        'Terrible things are said to be taking place in Barrow,"
r he t?ld her. "The twins are supposed to have created a
       bestiary of their own that would rival that of the finest
       circus."
        "That's why you don't want us to go to Barrow, then.
       But if it's only a rumor . . . "
        "I don't want to confirm it the hard way, daughter,"
       jocylyn said decisively.
        There was a scratching outside, then Pup appeared in
       the doorway of the wagon. "Come quickJy! Madran has
       scented intruders watching us from the trees."
        jocylyn shoved back his chair and stood up, reaching
       for his cloak and crossbow. He swiftly fitted a bolt to the

    




    294
    
    SILVERHAND
    
      "Curse their eyes whoever they are. We may not have,
    any business, but I won't have my troupe harassed . . . or
    worse, he swore. Holding the bow down by his side, he
    stepped out into the circle of wagons.
      Sioraf followed him out but promptly melted into the
    shadows.
      'Vhere are they?" jocylyn whispered to Pup.
      The huge shaggy dog pressed against her side anal
    growled low in his throat.
      "In the trees over there, Pup told the Circus Master.'
    'Two of them. And neither are completely human," she
    added.

    




    HA"E'R fORTY-UGHT
    
    I!
    k
    
     Waves of scent had drawn them, the tang of sweaty
    human flesh mingled with the musky odors of beasts.
    Following the odors to their source, Caeled and Gwynne
    moved cautiously through the trees. It could be a
    village ... or it could be a Bredi hunting party.
     dilfs a caravan of sorts," Caeled said over his shoulder as
    he lay flat on damp earth in the undergrowth, peering
    through a screen of diolyn leaves. "Eight wagons in a
    circle around a campfire," he further reported. "But I
    don't see any people, I wonder where they are."
     Gwynne eased forward until she was crouched next to
    him. Her stony fingers parted leaves.
     "Ali. It's a circus."
     Caeled felt a leap of excitement. As a small boy he had
    once avidly followed a circus trundling down a nearby
    road, though he knew his mother would never have the
    price of admission. But he never forgot the thrill of seeing
    wagon after gaudy wagon carrying cages containing
    strange and exotic beasts. A beautiful darkhaired woman
    rode on the driver's seat of the lead wagon, and someone
    said she was the famous Princess Micaela.
     With all his heart the little boy had longed to go with
     them. For seasons afterward he dreamed of running off
     to join a circus.
      These shabby wagons, upon which only peeling flakes
     of paint remained, bore little resemblance to the glamor-
     ous procession that had lured him as a child.

    




    296
    
    SILVERHAND
    
      "There's nothing for us here," Gwynne decided. "Let's
    move on.
      Caeled scrambled to his feet and caught her arm.
    'Wait. If the Bred are hunting us, they will be looking for
    one or two individuals." He flashed a quick grin. "And you
                                          But if,
    
    must admit we're fairly conspicuous on our own.
    we were to travel with a group ... ?"
      Gwynne glanced toward the 'circus again. "Your pl
    has merit, I suppose." But she sounded dubious.
      At that moment a curious mix of human and beastfalk
    emerged from the largest wagon, chattering among
    themselves in a dozen different tongues. Foremost among
    them was a small blond girl accompanied by an enormous
    wolfhound with a coat the same white-gold as her hair.
      Caeled and Gwynne froze into immobility.
      The camp, which had seemed all but deserted, burst
    into raucous life. Two Simpan-sai, both recognizably
    female beneath their coarse fur, busied themselves
    building up the fire, using their long prehensile tails to
    carry more wood to the blaze. A squat bald man whose,
    head and face were tattooed in the swirling patterns of
    the Island Peoples set a plank across two barrels to form a
    table, upon which he began to chop vegetables.
      The thud of his knife brought a pair of marsh lions and
    their cubs out from one of the wagons. They gathered
    around the table, waiting for him to begin cutting up the
    meat which was brought to him by a mantichore.
      Caeled had never seen a mantichore. His breath
    
    caught in his throat.
      The little girl and the huge wolfhound gambo
    around the camp, moving ever closer to the perimeter.
      "It almost looks as if that big dog is delibe
    patrolling the place," Caeled whispered to Gwynne.
      "It might not be a good idea to come upon theii
    unexpectedly at night," the Stone Warrior replied. "Perhaps
    we would get a warmer welcome if we wait for sunrise."As
    she spoke, her eyes were fixed on the child. The girl wj;,

    




    she had survived.
    
    about ten cycles, a little older than baby Derfyl would be if
    
    Morgan Llywelyn & Michael Scott
    
    297
    
     The warrior's granitic hands closed into fists, rock
    grinding rock. She had not allowed herself to think of her
    children for a long time. In the beginning the pain of their
    loss had been almost too much to bear, worse than Silan's
    death, more agonizing than the pain of petrifying flesh.
    The Snowscalds had comforted hen there were few
    
    women among them who had not lost a child, either
    stillborn or through disease. The mountains were a harsh
    environment - though paradoxically, far more healthy
    than the slums of Barrow or Karfondal where one in
    every five children failed to live through their first cycle.
     But G,,Nynne had had her family, five healthy children
    as well as a loving husband. Her future had been assured.
    She and Silan expected to live to old age, watch their
    children find companions and have children of their own.
    Had not that always been the order of life?
    
     Gwynne cherish"ed a special memory from her early
    childhood, long before she was orphaned. During the
    latter days of every Cool Season, ten or twelve grandchil-
    dren would make the journey to her father's parents' villa
    on the coast to celebrate the Turn of the Cycle. There
    were games to play and races to run, and her grand-
    mother always baked a large cake with carved seeds
    hidden in it, each purporting to predict-some wonderful
    future for the finder.
      And at night, when the stars came out, the grandpar-
    ents sl)read blankets on the grass and they all lay on their
    backs , and watched the magic of the skv.
    
    S
    
    ,as
    
     She had wanted to create similar memories tor her own
    chAdren. That would never happen now. She felt the
    familiar stinpr at the back of her eves the burning at the
    
    base of her throat. But she knew she would not weep.
    
     The little girl was close now, very close, eyes huge and
    hniiid and of a sum sing darkness for so fair a child. The
    
    enormous dog trotted beside her, sniffing the air.

    




    AR
    
    298
    
    SILVERHAND
    
     When the dog gave a short sharp bark the girl stopped
    and looked at him as if he had spoken to her. Som
    message flashed between them, then girl and dog turn
    as one and ran across the camp to the largest caravan.
      G,,Nynne's warrior instincts shouted a silent warning.
     A bearded man lumbered down from the caravan
    the child and the dog at his heels.
      "He's carrying a weapon," muttered Caeled, tensmig.
      Gwynne strained for a better look. "Where?"
     "It's concealed under his cloak, but I can tell by the way
    he walks that he has one."
     The Stone Warrior said, 'We had better get out
    here, Caeled. This isn't a good idea after all."
    "No, wait. He's just being cautious, what do yo
    expect?"                                 v
     The huge dog crowded close to the man. The little gy
    was clutching a fistful of skin and hair on the nape of
    animal's neck. As they started toward the campfire
    troupe gathered around it looked up, startled, th
    rapidly dispersed into their own wagons.
     The man stopped almost directly in front of the
    where Gwynne and Caeled crouched. The dog st
    forward as if it would leap into the bushes and a
    Only the hand of the child seemed to hold it back.
     The man slung aside his cloak to reveal a crossb
    carried at his side. In one smooth move he raised the
    weapon and pointed it at the trees. "I know you're there."
    His was a trained voice, almost accentless. He sighted
    along the crossbow. "There are two of you; sh
    yourselves at once."
      The dog growled menacingly and crouched.
      Caeled was inching backward when he smelled
    musky odor of...
      He rolled over as one of the female Simpan-sai land
    on his chest, wrapping a tail tightly around his thro
    Almost simultaneously the second creature appe
    alongside and pinned his left arm to the ground.
                                  C7

    




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     Meanwhile a wraithlike figure flowed out of the trees
    to take a place beside his head. He caught one glimpse of
    a starkly beautiful young woman before she laid her hand
    across his face and pressed her long fingernails with the
    greatest delicacy against his eyes. Caeled froze, knowing
    that with the slightest movement she could blind him.
     Gwynne was puffing her morningstar from her belt
    when a ponderous weight struck her shoulders and forced
    her to the ground, face down in mud. The incisors of a
    marsh lion touched the back of her neck but did not press
    down. She held still, though there was little damage the
    big cat could do to her. But it was not trying to hurt her.
      It was merely holding her.
     Torches flared. Humans and beasts appeared again,
    crowding forward for a look at the captives.
     A high voice yapped, "It's all right, there are just the
    two of them."
     Jocylyn stepped through the bushes and looked down
    at Caeled and Gwynne, with his crossbow at the ready.
    'What have we here? Spies? We don't like spies. Do you
    know what we do to-spies? We feed them to our animals."
     He waited to let that sink in, then made a gesture with
      hand. Nothing happened. The blond-haired child
       pe             -sai released Caeled as the marsh
        d and the Simpan
     backed away from Gwynne. Lastly Caeled felt the
     Png, fingernails lift from his trembling eyelids.
     i Gwynne levered herself to her feet. She hated being
     ?inned to the earth like a tortoise on its back. 'We are not
     spies!" she said hotly. 'We were looking for employment."
     "Come out in the open where I can get a good look at
     you," the man replied.
     They followed him into the circle of firelight, where
     they were at once joined by his curious troupe. Ignoring
     Caeled, the bearded man looked the Stone Warrior up
     and down with professional inter~st, sucking on his teeth
     as he did so.
       "My my, aren't you a sight. What is that, stone?"
    
    In

    




    300
    
    SILVERHAND
    
     "Near enough," Gwynne replied. "Feel it." She held
    out an arm.
     Jocylyn attempted to pinch her flesh, then looked at
    her with renewed respect. Suddenly he swung his weapon
    so one end of the metal crossbow struck her forearm.
      Sparks flew.
     The motley audience squealed and jabbered.
     The bearded man raised his eyebrows. "I am Jocylyn,
    owner of this circus," he told Gwynne, "and I usually hire
                                           .1
    MY acts at the fairs. I don't expect to find them cowe
    in the woods."
     'We were not cowering," she retorted angrily. "I told
    you, we seek work."
     "Both of you? What does the young man do?" Jocylyn
    turned to Caeled. "You, strip down. Let's see if you ha
    an interesting deformity."
     "I'm not deformed," Caeled assured him. He had n
    intention of removing his clothes in front of
    strangers.
     "No? Then what use are you to me? It's freaks I n
    the moment, like your stony friend here."
     Gwynne spoke up. "Caeled has a metal hand
    incredibly powerful. Besides that he is strong, and skill
    in fighting. And he can read."
     Jocylyn lifted his heavy eyebrows still higher.
    Are you also versed in figures?"
      "Yes."
      "Let me see your hand."
     Caeled stretched out his left hand. Jocylyn t,04
    carefully, turning it to and fro in the light from the near
    campfire, examining its jointure with the wrist. "You,
    had this a long time."
      "Many cycles."
     Jocylyn bent over and pried a rock from the mud. e~
    tossed it to Caeled. "Show me just how strong you are."
     With his eyes fixed on the Circus Master's, Caeled
    his metal hand into a fist and crushed the rock to grit.
    
    I

    




    the pulverized stone trickle through his fingers, then
    opened and displayed the empty hand.
     The circus performers murmured; a couple applauded.
     I just might be able to find a place for both of you in
    my circus," Jocylyn said slowly, as if he still needed to be
    convinced.
     But Caeled read the hungry look in his eyes and knew
    there was no doubt.
     "A circus is like a family, however," Jocylyn said. He
    turned to gaze at the figures clustered around them. "My
    people here will have to approve you. What say you," he
    asked, "do we have room for a Woman of Stone and the
    Nations' Strongest Man?
     The question was answered by grunts, barks, squeals of
    assent. One human woman shook her head and the
    mantichore said nothing.
      Joclyn grinned. 'That's settled, then. Now it's time for
    
    Morgan Llywelyn & Michael Scott
    
    301
    
    food; food and introductions. You know my name, I want
    Ito know yours, and all about you. You can tell me while
    you eat - I assume you are hungry?"
     As Gwynne and Caeled were led away, Sioraf crouched
    beside Madran, the Madra AlIta. Pup stood close to her
    father, listening intently to his whines. "Father smells
    blood on them, he says.*
     Sioraf's pointed tongue darted across her lips. She too
    had smelled the blood ... and it had been a long time
    since she last fed.
      Her eyes followed Caeled's back.
    
    I

    




    CHArTER fORTY-NINE
    
     Of the twenty-five men and women gathered in
    Council Chamber, no more than five had served un
    the twins' father. Only their unswerving loyalty to
    Duet had ensured their survival as they had
    friends and family disappear one by one, some accuse
    treachery, others succumbing to a series of myste
    illnesses, stillThe newer members of the Council had been h
                                      t T
    picked by the twins. None were from i he
    Families, the noble class of Barrow. The newcom
    included minor merchants, a circus owner whose ci
    had been disbanded, a couple of warriors who n
    made officer rank, several petty criminals and a pros-
    from the wharves.
     No one knew why such a curious mix had
    selected for such high position. But in Los-Lorcan's ti
    less than a third of the Council could be described as
    to him. In his children's reign, the entire group W,
    determinedly devoted.
     "Baddalaur is no more, Lares announced to them
    satisfaction as he strode around the room. He radiated
    almost palpable energy. Earlier he had slain four men
    part I of an experiment aimed, at freeing their life forces
    that he could absorb them into himself
     Three had died quickly; the fourth had met a p
    longed and agonizing death which had the effect
    releasing a veritable torrent of power. To Lares' delight

    




    0
    
    f
    e
    
    Morgan Llywelyn & Michael Scott
    
    303
    
    had been able to draw almost all of this into himself
    before it dissipated. He could feel it now, sparking
    through his body, headier than wine.
      The experiment would continue.
     "A combination of Voids and the Bred have destroyed
    what might have proved a serious challenge to our rule,"
    Sarel was saying. While her restless brother paced, she
    lounged at ease in a chair with the long silken sleeves of
    her gown dangling over the arms. "It was only a matter of
    time until those stiff-necked monks rebelled against us.
    Celibate old fools, they are better off dead. They had no
    appreciation of true creative energy."
      She caught Lares' eye and gave him a radiant smile.
     "Did anyone escape?" a wizened diamond merchant
    asked . His eyes flicked nervously from one twin to the
    other. He had not wanted this position, but no one
    refused the D~tet. How he wished his natural volubility
    did not betray him at these meetings.
      Lares paused. 'Why?"
      "I ... I just wondered."
      "None!"
     "Our minions performed with gratifying efficiency,
     claimed Sarel. "Especially the saurian members of the
     Bred. We have been speaking to the Breeder about
     concentrating our program on this particular type and
     phasing out the more mammalian warriors."
     "lo now we must plan our next move," Lares snapped,
     moving away from the diamond merchant, much to that
     man's relief "You all thought you were chosen ran-
     domlv... "
       "But you were not," Sarel concluded. "Each of you has
     had some particular experience of the Seven Nations and
     the regions that lie beyond. You, Nun," she went on,
     addressing the empty-eyed prostitute, "once sailed with
     the Island Corsairs and know every inch of coastline
     where their bases are hidden.
       "Obrie," she said to a rat-faced forger, "you were once a
    
    mo
    
    =7

    




    304
    
    SILVERHAND
    
    cartographer in Karfondal. You and Nun can provide
    with the detailed maps we need."
      Lares took up the commentary. 'We intend to takeo
    army into every comer of the Nations and beyond;
    mean to extend the reign of the Duet to the ends of the
    earth. You have seen for yourselves the slow disintegra-
    tion of the world we know. Crops are failing, plants are
    blighted and deformed, animals are losing their
    People everywhere are increasingly unhappy with th
    life and lot. All this we will change!"
      He walked around to stand behind his sister and re
    his hands on her shoulders. "Nothing can stand in o'
    way," he predicted.
      As the council members cheered their approval, a strt
    beam of sunlight slanting through a window flashed
    silver bracelet on the prostitute' s arm,
      Silver. Sarel's lips tightened over her teeth.
    Lares' fingers bit into her shoulders she knew he
    thinking the same thought.
      Sarel reached up and placed her hands over
    brother's. "It will be all right," she said softly, for his ear'
    alone. "In a day, two at the most, I shall have
    Silverhand. And he will be a long time dying."

    




    CHArTER fWTY
    
     Firelight gleamed on the Circus Master's gold teeth
    and the single gold ring in one of his ears as, smiling with
    satisfaction, he surveyed the ruins of his meal. He tilted
    the wooden bowl to his lips and swallowed what remained
    of the stew. When the last gobbet of cooling fat was gone,
    he set the bowl down and looked across at Caeled.
     The young man had eaten less than half of the greasy
    stew, but the stony woman had devoured hers and then
    helped herself to Caeled's. jocylyn wondered what could
    be the connection between the two. He had spent a
    lifetime watching people, and prided himself that one
    glance of a line of customers waiting to buy tickets was
    enough for him to read their characters. He could tell
    those willing to believe anything from the sceptics who
    must be convinced. He knew in a moment who had come
    to ooh and aah at the wild beasts and which ones would
    head straight for the freak show. Looking at a couple, he
    would make an infallible decision as to whether or not the
    man would be interested in slipping away to a little tent
    on the side to see something ... unusual ... without his
    wife.
     But these two had so far baffled jocylyn. Were they
    relatives? No, they were too aware of one another to be
    relatives, Lovers, then. No, they kept a subtle distance
    between themselves at all times and did not seek each
    other's eyes. They might have been strangers.
      But they were not. Of that much he was certain.

    




    306              SILVERHAND
    
    he gave. He was dressed
    
    Jocylyn leaned back, moving his head out of the light SA
    they would not be aware he was watching them.     J
     The woman was fascinating. Her peculiar hide did not
    repel him, he had once exhibited a woman with serpent's
    scales who brought in a lot of money. And hirsute fe;n4s
    were common among circuses. But beneath the top 14YA
    of skin such women were the same as any other.
     The one who called herself Gwynne, however, Z
    different. Jocylyn wondered just how deep the petrific
    tion went. It did not appear to be superficial; he re
    the sparks he had struck from her arm, as if it werec:tO
    to the bone.
      Yet she could move; her joints worked. She had
    degree of lower facial mobility, and when she
    mouth to eat he glimpsed normal pink tissue       ~d
    she look like under her clothes? If he could get her
                                           de
                                            'e
    pose naked she might be a spectacular attraction in e
    The Living Statue. Sucking grease from his finge
    Jocylyn considered the possibilities with growing enthusi-
    asm.
      Then he turned his attention to Caeled.
     The young man was easier to read and paradoxic
    more of a mystery.- The hand was a curious d
    Beautifully crafted with skiffs beyond Jocylyn's co
    hension, it was so integrated into Caeled's body that It
    become a real part of him and hardly detracted fro',
    overall appearance. A young man of eighteen or nine
    cycles, he could be the son of a wealthy merchant or
    one of the minor nobility. His posture was proud, his
    well-nourished, his eyes clear and confident.
     But his flesh and blood hand had an unusual callous
    formation on the outer edge, and another between th*
                                           He
                                           s ne,
    
                                      opened t r
                                      s. What
    
    and forefinger. Furthermore the muscling of his chOst,
    and arms suggested hard Caeled's clothes were also at odds with the impression
                          peasant in a simple hen
                          tunic and trousers, and coarsely made sandals. Jocylyn

    




    Morgan Llywelyn & Michael Scott
    
    307
    
    had no way of knowing these garments had been stolen
    for him by Gwynne, the clothing from a washing line and
    the sandals from a cottage doorstep.
     The last puzzle involved Caeled's st&ess. While the
    stone woman seemed to be constantly in motion, restlessly
    shifting her body as if she could never get comfortable, her
    young companion sat as still as stone. His dark eyes fixed on
    
    e: dancing flames; no expression crossed his face. It was he
    ho might have been a statue.
    
     Was he a mystic of some sort? Jocylyn wondered.
     Although he appeared to be lost in a trance, Caeled
    was fully aware o the Circus Master's scrutiny. He could
    feel the man's eyes roving over his face and form, just as
    he could smell the color of the firelight and taste the
    shape of the food he had eaten. The monks at Baddalaur
    had amplified his already keen senses and given him
    exercises to stimulate alternative pathways for them as
    part of his preparation for the day he was to become a
    Seeker,
     Ignoring Jocylyn, he began directing his senses out-
    ward, seeking. A few paces away was the huge blond
    woffhound. With an effort Caeled repressed a shudder.
    Something about the beast filled him with an inexplicable
    fear.
     His questing senses moved on to linger, briefly, on the
    little girl who slumbered beside the great dog. Her head
    was pillowed trustingly on his shaggy side.
     Beyond the rim of the firelight other members of the
    circus were preparing for the night. Caeled recognized
    the soft chatter of the Simpan-sai and the guttural cough
    of some big cat in a cage. Voices called to one another. A
    massively tattooed man strode naked past the campfire
    balancing a bucket of water on his head. A horse snorted
    on the picket line. Wagons creaked as their occupants
    moved around inside them.
      But Caeled could not find the young woman.
      He had caught only a glimpse of her before she
    
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    SILVERHAND
    
    pressed her fingernails against his eyes. Afterwards there
    had been no opportunity to speak to her, and now he
    could not locate her at all.
      He remembered her scent, though, a delicate ivory, - I
    fragrance like white petals in moonlight.
      "Who made your hand, young man?" jocylyn asked
    abruptly.
      Caeled raised his head, his mind still on Sioraf.
    "Nazariel the Senior Healer, in the Healing Chapel of
    Baddalaur."
      "You're not serious!" jocylyn was impressed. Perhaps
    the hand was Old Metal, then. Only the monks at
    Baddalaur had access to such lost arts. If the Circus
    Master's surmise was correct, Caeled was carrying a king's
    ransom on the end of his arm.
      "Why did you need an artificial hand?"
      "I was bitten by a Madra Allta. To save me from the
    werecurse, my hand was removed and this one created
    for me."
      jocylyn chuckled. "Hear that, Madran?" The huge
    blond wolfhound pricked its ears. "He'd rather chop off
    his hand than turn into a Madra Allta like you!"
      The dog replied with a series of yips that sounded
    suspiciously like laughter.
      Fighting.back the ghost of an old nightmare, Caeled
    turned his head to gaze again at the dog. His stomach
    clenched into a knot.
      In the moons after he lost his hand he had awakened
    many times, sweating and shaking, from a dream in which
    a weredog was slowly consuming his entire body.
      "Madran is a born Madra Allta," the Circus Master said
    proudly. "He takes the canine form at night, but 0
    powerful enough to assume human form by day- Th'i
    child is his daughter, Pup, the offspring of a human
    mother. Pup translates for us when Madran is in h#
    canine form."
      Horrified but curiously fascinated, Caeled stared at the

    




    pair of them. Father and daughter? Astonishing. But
    anything might happen in a world where natural order
    was breaking down. ~
     He did not want to think about weredogs. "I saw a girl,"
    he said to Jocylyn, trying to change the subject. "A very
    
    Morgan Llywelyn & Michael Scott
    
    slender girl . . . "
    
    309
    
     And suddenly she was there. He heard her fragrance
    and smelled her beauty an instant before she appeared
    like a wraith behind the Circus Master.
     In the firelight her eyes were the same astonishing blue
    Caeled. remembered.
     "My daughter Sioraf," said Jocylyn.
     "Caeled Silverhand," the young man replied, holding
    her eyes with his. "And this is Gwynne." Without breaking
    contact he gestured toward the Stone Warrior.
     Gwynne gave a noncommittal grunt.
     So far, Jocylyn noted, she had vouchsafed no informa-
    tion about herself at all.
     Could it be there was a price on her head? Their
    heads? Would taking them put his circus at risk?
     Still looking at Sioraf, Caeled inquired, 'Where are you
    going with the circus?"
     "Karfondall" Jocylyn replied in a snap decision.
     "I'd be quick about it if I were you. No menagerie is
    safe in this region. The Duet seized the last circus in
    Barrow not too long ago and ... A ... dispersed it."
     Jocylyn tensed. "Do you know the details? If you were
    in Baddalaur. . . "
     Caeled interrupted before he could be questioned
    about Baddalaur. Perhaps it was not prudent to mention
    the College, or his connection with it. "I was on the road,
    it was just something I heard in passing. The travelling
     show of the Princess Micaela was confiscated by the
     Duet's guards and its personnel charged with sedition."
     He recalled the pain he had felt at the news. On that
     occasion too he had remembered his long ago glimpse of
     circus life, and wondered what turns his life might have

    




    310
    
    SILVERHAND
    
    taken if he had simply trotted off behind, MicaeWt~
    wagons.
     jocylyn drew in his breath with a hiss. "Princess
    Micaela. That dear, intrepid woman. I don't believe for a
    moment that she would commit such a
    happened to her, do you know?"
      'There was a rumor that she was
    
                                     crime. W]*t
    
                                                           tortured,
    whatever happened, I do believe she was eventually made
    a member of the Council of Barrow. As for her company
    and her animals, no one will say for sure exactly what
    became of them."
     "It looks as if yours may be the last circus in the Sev
    Nations," Gwynne drawled, finally breaking her sil
    "The twins have eliminated all your competition.
                                            en
                                             T
    might give you a new name for your troupe. How a 0
    'The Last Circus'?"
     jocylyn stood up, belched, combed through his be
    with his fingers. "I don't like the sound of it. Too
    Bad luck. And there's enough of that already.
    
    I
    
    I ~
    
     "It's late and we're all tired. My daughter will fin some
    blankets for you and you can sleep under one of
    wagons for now. We'll talk some more tomorrow. 11
    going to bed and I suggest you do the same."
    
     The scent of ivory and moonlight woke Caeled. He
    still with his eyes closed, absorbing his surroun
    through his senses.
     She was close to him, no more than a few paces aw4
    He could not hear the fibers of leather or taste the bi
    tang of metal; she was not armed.
      Caeled sat up in one smooth motion, startling Sior
     She sat cross-legged beside the smoldering remains
    the fire. Only a light shift shielded her boay from
                                           nj's
                                           I
    night air, but she did not seem to notice the cold.
    Wrapping a blanket around his shoulders, Cael I
    crawled out from under the wagon and went over to h.
    She watched in silence as he sat down beside b 111,

    




    4
    
    Morgan Llywelyn & Michael Scott
    
    311
    
    Without thinking, he reached into the embers with his
    metal hand and stirred them back to warm life.
     'What are you?" Sioraf asked softly. Her lovely face was
    grave in the firelight.
     Caeled shrugged. "A man. . .
     "A man with a silver hand. A man who's been to
    Baddalaur. And the woman? What of her?"
     "I met her while on a journey and we agreed to travel
    together." It was not the whole truth, but it was the truth.
     Her face was like a pale oval of moonlight. Her lips
    were very red. Caeled could not tear his eyes away.
     "I smelled blood on you," Sioraf stated flatly.
     Caeled knew he had washed thoroughly, not once but
    several times, since his last encounter with the Bred.
    Perhaps there was still blood on the Stone Warrior,
    though. It might have seeped into the fissures in her skin.
     How could this young woman detect anything so
    subtle?
     The safest he, he recalled reading, was the one nearest
    the truth. 'We were attacked by beasts in the mountains,
    some sort of huge lizard creatures. But how could you
    tell? You must have a fine sense of smell."
     Sioraf's red lips curved into a smile of incredible
    sweetness that made Caeled's heart lurch. Then the smile
    widened, and he saw her needlelike incisors.
      "I am a vampir," she said simply.
     Only his training prevented him from reacting. He had
    read about vampin in the library in Baddalaur, in texts
    describing them as long-extinct relicts: of an Elder race.
      Sioraf was not extinct. In that moment she seemed the
     most real being Caeled had ever seen.
      "Some of the Elder races possessed the ability to pass
     blood from one body to another," Nanri had explained. "For
     that purpose they had special fangs. But they have been
     gone so long we have no need to concern ourselves with
     them. Vampiri are a forgotten curiosity, nothing more."
       A vampir sat beside Caeled, smiling at him.

    




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    SILVERHAND
    
      Suddenly he very much wished his old Master were
    there to see.
   'Why are you smiling?7~
       was thinking of an old friend."
      "A woman?" Sioraf asked quickly.
      "No."
      "Ah."
    
      "An old man who once told me vampiri were extinct."
      Sioraf's laughter bubbled up unbidden. 'There is
    something about you, Caeled Silverhand. But my instinc
    warn me ...
      "If you are a vampir, I am the one who should
    cautious." Caeled was struggling to remember what he
    had read about vampiri. They had supplemented norm~
    food with fresh blood in order to survive; it was one of the
    peculiarities of their race.
      "I am not dangerous to you," Sioraf replied.
      He wondered if he could believe her.
      "But I fear you are to me. To us. To my father and
    circus. Strange people who appear with no explanatioll
    have a way of bringing bad luck with them."  I
      "That's the second time tonight someone has spoken of
    luck."
      'We are performers and all performers are super
                                            It
    tious. We expect the worst because life teaches us to do
    
    so.77
    
      "My life has taught me the same," Caeled confided,
    "though I'm no performer."
      'Then what do you do?"
      He did not know how to answer. At last, and
    lamely, he said, "I study. I'm ... a scholar."
      "And you make a living that way? just by studying?" 1,
      Sioraf sounded astonished, and now that he thod
    about it, Caeled realized why. Outside of the Co
    could not possibly support himself merely by being
    scholar. At a loss for an answer, he shrugged. "I may,d
    something else," he said vaguely.      A

    




    Morgan Llywelyn & Michael Scott
    
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     When she got to her feet, her thin shift molded itself
    most disturbingly to her body. "I think I would prefer if
    you left us, you and your companion," Sioraf said. "I do
    not dislike your company, I just ... something about you
    frightens me."
     "Something about you frightens me," he responded
    with total honesty.
     She gazed down at him with shadowed eyes. "If you
    remain and bring misfortune upon my father, I shall have
    to U you." Drawing back her foot, Sioraf kicked the fire
    into a shower of sparks.
     Caeled drew back hastily. When he looked up again,
    she was gone.
     Later that night, Caeled dreamed.
     A naked woman, pale, silver-skinned, nipples like dark
    coins on her high round breasts, came to him and
    crouched over him. He tried to wake up but the weight of
    her gaze pushed him back into drowsy helplessness.
    Taldng his right hand, she pressed his palm to her breast.
    The s1dn was cool and smooth. His wondering fingers
    cupped the tender roundness, but she lifted them away
    and held the hand to her mouth.
     He felt the touch of her lips on his palm. Then she bit
    into the soft pad at the base of his thumb with a bite so
    delicate he could hardly feel it, no more than the nip of a
    finyinsect.
     Golden warmth flooded through his veins.
     The dream faded. Caeled sank into a deep, untroubled
    sleep.
    
    I
    
    i

    




    CHArTER fIfTY-ONE
    
      It came upon the spoor by accident.
      It was scouring the forest, hunting. Twice recently it
    had killed: a female softskin bathing in a pool, then an
    aged male gathering roots. It had gulped down thel
    tenderest morsels before pressing on, seeking that which
    was the true object of its hunt.
      The two who had killed some of its fellows.
      Thinking of their deed filled it with a cold heat that W
    not anger, but more cruel than anger. A targeted desire to
    rend and rake with claws, to savage and dismembe
                                         r
      The red eye had given it, orders. The red eye ha~ been'
    connected in some way to the female with amber hair.
    Her essence shimmered through the red eye, a tangible
    haze that frightened the Bredi beyond bearing. Under
    her influence the red eye sent many of its kind along the
    riverbank, searching. Hunting the two softskins who had
    slain their fellows. They must be found and
    Terrible things would be done to Bredi who failed.
      Terrible things.
      It cowered under the thought.
      The Bredi knew it had failed in spite of the MOO
    diligent searching. It must return to take its punishme'im,
    there was no escape. The amber hair could find
    anywhere.
      It was slinking back the way it had come when
    flaringTracing the scent through the forest was easy. Ar
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    Bredi had been designed to differentiate between many
    smells and follow one to the exclusion of all else.
    Ponderous folds of flesh depending from its cheeks and
    jowls trapped scent rising from the earth and funnelled it
    to the eager nostrils.
     As it followed the trail, it came upon the remains of a
    forest creature whose skull had been shattered. Part of it
    had been eaten by the two the' Bredi sought; their smell
    lingered on what was left of the dead thing.
     Tracking them deeper into the forest, the Bredi
    became aware, without curiosity, of other, stranger smells.
    Somewhere nearby were beasts it had never encoun-
    tered *
      But they did not matter.
     Nothing mattered now but finding its prey and
    escaping the punishment of the red eye and the amber
    hair.
     Lashing its muscular tail from side to side, the great
    saurian slithered down the forest path, grumbling deep in
    its throat with eagerness.
     At dawn it came to a place of struggle where the two it
    sought had recently been. The earth was crushed and
    flattened, branches were snapped, leaves torn off.
      But no blood had been spilled.
     The Bredi paused and lifted its head. A slender forked
     tongue tasted the air.
      Where were they?
      Escaped? Or captured?
     It had to find out. It moved forward again, through the
     trees.
    
   I Pup was dancing through the long grass at the edge of
    the forest with her face turned to the sky, waiting for the
    sun to come up. She loved catching the first rays of Nusaon her face. Then she would throw back her head and
           mouth and bay at the sun just as her father
           bayed at the moon.

    




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    SILVERHAND
    
      it was one of her favorite games.
     The wind was warm and damp this morning. She
    enjoyed its fresh sweetness as it flowed through the
    forest. Pup was tired of sea salt and desert sand, and she
    hated the stink of towns.
      The forest was her favorite place.
     Nusas peered over the rim of the earth to see who was
    waiting to greet him. Pup threw back her head and spread
    her arms wide, dancing in the long grass, inviting him to
    lift himself higher.
      The Bredi attacked.
     She managed a single scream before the huge lizard
    grabbed her.
     it had anticipated an easy kill, but the small softs
    moved with uncanny swiftness, responding not with th
    mindless panic of prey but with the fury of a predator.
    The child bared her teeth and emitted a deep growl such
    as no softskin should utter, and went for the saurian's eyes
    with clawing fingers.
     The Bredi swung its massive head aside just in time.
    But it returned instantly to the attack, reaching for the
    child with scaly forearms.
     Pup's second scream was so shrill it hurt the ears of the
    Bredi. The creature lunged forward, determined to bite
    off her head and stop the clamor. It saw her eyes gl J
    fear ... then, unbelievably, she smiled.
     The Bredi never felt the blow that shattered its sp
    As gray death descended, the last thing it saw was a,~
    shining silver hand reaching past it, toward the child.

    




    CHArTER flfrY-TWO
    
     "I've been with the circus all my life," Jocylyn said,
     cautiously turning the creature over with a mighty heave
     of his foot, "but I've never seen anything like this before."
     The Circus Master looked around at his assembled
     troupe. "Have any of you?"
     The tattooed man knelt beside the dead Bredi, holding
     himself in readiness to leap up and run if it moved. When
     he was convinced it would never move again he closed his
     eyes for a moment. Tattooed eyes appeared on his
     eyelids, so he seemed to be still staring at the creature.
     With his two forefinizers he tapped his closed eyelids.
     Jocylyn understood the gesture. "Let me see no evil,"
     the big man murmured. 'What is it, Moi? You've seen
     such things before? Where, on the Islands?"
     The tattooed man nodded. "On the Islands, yes. There
     were creatures like this, but they were small. Smaller than
     Pup." He looked up to smile at the child now cradled
     safely in the arms of a massively built man with hair as
     blond as her own.
     (They arefomori," the tattooed man explained. "Flesh-
     eating lizards. On the Islands the bigger ones are
     sometimes trained as sentinels, like hounds. They are
     intelligent in their own way but inclined to be vicious. I've
     never seen one anywhere near the size of fl-As thing,
       though." He touched the dead Bredi's face with a
    t tentative finger. "And see here: the jaw is more developed
    K11
    J~ than any normal lizard. And it has hands almost like a

    




    318
    
    SILVERHAND
    
    man's, except the thumb is curved and has a claw like a
    spur. I am baffled, jocylyn," he concluded, standing up
    again and brushing his hands together as if to brush away
    the touch of the dead creature.
     The Circus Master turned to Caeled. "You know what
    this is, though, don't you? I can see it in your eyes."
      "One of the Bred," Caeled replied.
     At the mention of the Bred several of the company
    drew in their breath sharply.
     Caeled noticed, but went on. "The Bred are warriors
    developed by the Duet. This is just one of the many
    different forms they take, all horrible. They are strong,
    deadly, though not invincible. They can bleed and die and
    are susceptible to cold, though most seem impervious to
    heat. Some are almost blind in sunlight, but have
    excellent vision in the dark. Others exude an oily sweat
    that will bum. Most of them stink."
     -~Vhat is it doing here?" Jocylyn demanded to know.
    His heavy eyebrows were drawn together over his nose
    into a ferocious scowl.
     Gwynne stepped forward,, allowing her stone elbow to
    brush Caeled's side as if by accident, but hard enough to
    hurt. Seeing this confirmed Jocylyn's suspicions. The
    creature had not come upon the camp by accident. These
    two were to blame for its presence and they knew it.
     "The warriors of the Bred are all over the Nations
    now," Gwynne said calmly. "You might find them any~-
    where; I narrowly avoided a large company of them in thei
    mountains."
     To Jocylyn's annoyance he could not tell if
    lying. The muscles of her lower face were appare
    quite mobile, but those around her eyes had stiffened to-
    an extent sufficieht to prevent any involuntary, telltoe
    twitches. She possessed a truly stony stare and one he
    could not read.
      "Maybe this one was following you," he suggested.
      The performers murmured among themselves.

    




    Morgan Llywelyn & Michael Scoff
    
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    99maybe they brought it to us deliberately," said a female
    acrobat who doubled as cook for the circus. I can't say as
    I like the look of either one of this pair, if you want my
     . .    PP
    opinion.
     Gwynne sidestepped, putting enough distance between
    herself and Caeled to allow her to use the morningstar
    without hitting him. The movement was swift and
    instinctive.
     From her father's arms, Pup glanced meaningfully at
    the two Simpan-sai. Although no word was spoken, they
    turned and ran into the trees and scampered into the
    branches. Birds erupted squawking with alarm.
     Before the Stone Warrior could do anything that might
    forever alienate them from the circus, Caeled said
    quickly, "The Bredi might have followed our track here,
    but more likely it was trailing you. Gwynne gives off no
    human scent, and I have long made it a habit to bathe
    twice a day. Your wagons, your beasts and performers,
    however, emit enough odors to draw a pack of wolves,
    never mind one of the Bred."
     "Still," Jocylyn replied with a gold-toothed smile, "we
    could kill you just to be sure."
     Caeled was not certain he was joking. "You could try,"
    he said. The silver hand clenched as if it had a mind of its
    
    own.
     A deep voice growled, "There's no need for that: I
    believe them."
     "Madran," Jocylyn snapped, "stay out of this."
     The big man carrying Pup stepped up beside the
    Circus Master. He stood a head taller than Jocylyn, and
    he moved with the assured muscularity of a superb
    athlete. Only a hint of his canine self showed in the jut of
    Madran's jaw and the angle of his cheekbones - and the
    shaggy blond hair drawn back and tied with a leather
    thong at the nape of his neck. Still carrying Pup in the
    crook f  arm, he put his other hand on Caeled's

    




    ill
    
    320              SILVERHAND
    
      The young man flinched in spite of himself.
      'This one saved Pup," boomed Madran's deep voice. "I
    am indebted to him."
      'Well I don't owe him anything," whined the cook.
    "He's done nothing for me, and I think he's connected
    with that ... that dead thing there in some way. People
    have accused us of being the Bred, you know. It's
    horrible. I don't want anything to do with any of them,
    and that includes these two!"
      "Let Pup find out the truth," said Madran. "You kn
    that no one has ever been able to make her believe a he."
      Caeled glanced at GNynne. Her face was expression-
    less, her thoughts hidden behind a stone wall. If they
    were attacked she had already decided to kill jocylyn and
    Madran first.
      The Madra Allta still had his hand on Caeled's
    shoulder. "If you have told the truth, you have nothing to
    
      "I have told the truth," Caeled replied. He was
    agonizingly aware of the weredog's touch, and relieved
    when Madran stepped away from him and set his
    daughter on her feet.
      Caeled bent his knees until his face was on a level with
    hers. "Give me your hands," the child said.
      Caeled placed both flesh and metal on her out-
    stretched palms. She stared down at them for a moment,
    then dropped the silver one and closed both her hands
    tightly around the other.
      "Are you allied with the Bred in any way?" Madrar
    asked above their heads.
      Caeled looked into Pup's wide eyes and smiled.
    he said.
      She met his gaze with a luminous look that
    his soul. Then she turned toward jocylyn. "He's te
    
    fear."
    
    truth," she reported.
      Madran growled, 'That's good enough for m
    about,you, Circus Master? Are vou with us, or not?"

    




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     At that moment the two Simpan-sai ran up, chattering
    softly.
     ,There's no one in the trees and they don't see anyone
    else approaching," Pup translated.
     "All right," jocylyn conceded, trying to regain control
    of the situation. "Have it your way this time." Without
    Madran and Pup as his star attractions he did not have
    much of a draw and he knew it. "Strike camp."
     Madran scooped up the limp body of the Bredi as if it
    weighed no more than Pup and slung it over his broad
    shoulder. "I'll dump this in the river." He glanced at
    Caeled,"Walk with me awhile."
    
     Madran inhaled deeply as they stepped among the
    trees. "You're right, I can smell the camp. When you're
    part of it, you don't notice the smells."
     Caeled remained silent, unsure how to respond.
    Merely being so close to a Madra Allta made him
    nervous, in spite of the man's apparent friendliness
    toward him.
     I meant what I said. You saved my daughtees life. I am
    indebted to you."
     I think you have already discharged your debt,"
    Caeled replied. 'Things could have tumed nasty back
    there."
     Madran nodded gravely. 'They would have killed you
    to protect themselves. Circus folk are a clannish lot and
    suspicious of any outsider. They're all freaks . . . " He
    caught Caeled's smile and interpreted it correctly. I am
    not a freak. I am a Madra Allta of the Clan Allta," he said
    proudly.
      Then his tone changed, darkened. "But my daughter is
    a freak. I fell in love with a human woman ... and she,
    may the gods be merciful to her spirit, fell in love with
    me. " The big man ducked beneath a low branch. "We fled
    Amorica when our relationship became known. There are
    stnet -laws forbidding mating between an Allta and a

    




    322
    
    SILVERHAND
    
    human. But we loved each other, we had no patience with
    laws."
      The river glinted through the trees. When they
    reached the bank, Madran dumped his burden uncere-
    moniously, then scooped up mud and ground it deep into
    the fatal wound. 'This will make it look as if the creature
    had a fatal fall," he told Caeled. "Perhaps from that cliff
    on the other side of the river."
      Together the two of them rolled the big saurian into
    the water. Its white belly showed for a moment as it
    turned lazily on the current, then it was swept away.
      Madran resumed talking as if he had never stopped.
    "There were good reasons for that law," he told Caeled. "I
    know it now; I know it every time I look at my daughter."
    There was a deep sadness in his voice that touched
    Caeled in spite of himself.
      "But Pup is a beautiful little girl," he told Madran.
      "Aye, she is. She is almost a true human. She c,,n
    take the beast shape, though she wants to with all e
    heart, I know. She is forever caught between two form
    being; that is her tragedy."
      "And your mate?" Caeled asked. 'What of her,
    human you loved?"
      "Pup, my beautiful daughter, bit and clawed her way
    out of her mother's womb like a wild beast breaking out of.
    a trap. My love died of her injury while making me
    promise to take good care of her killer." Madran's deep
    voice sank deeper until Caeled forgot what he was and
    felt only his pain.                       I
      Human and Madra Allta walked on together,
    his own thoughts.
    
      They were halfway back to the camp when they he
    the screams.
    
    a

    




    I
    
    CHArTER fIfTY-THREE
    
     They discovered the body of one of the Simpan-sai
    first. Strangled with its own tail, it had been thrust into
    the bushes. Its sister lay curled into a ball close by, the
    small skull crushed.
    
     Madran began to growl as they raced toward the camp,
    a guttural roar of accelerating menace. GI at him
    out of the corner of his eye, Caeled saw the =s of his
    face rippling like clay softening in the sun. Coarse hair
    sprouted along the line of his cheekbones. His bared
    fangs gleamed.
     A wounded Bredi warrior - as canine as the Madra
    Allta - staggered onto the trail before them. It cocked its
    shaggy head to look dully at Madran, as if wondering if he
    was one of its own kind. In that moment Madran lunged
    for its throat.
     The Bredi died without a sound.
     Caeled dragged Madran off the creature. For an
    instant the werebeast's eyes blazed irrationally. Then, as
    he recognized his companion, the savage light faded.
     "Listen," Caeled commanded.
     Madran's features were almost totally canine now, with
    a long blood-soaked muzzle, although he retained his
    human body. Like most of the true AlIta, he could control
    the were-change. "I don't hear anything," he said in a
    rasping growl as he forced human words from a bestial
    throat.
     "Neither do 1, not now. That's what worries me."

    




    324
    
    SILVERHAND
    
     Madran kicked the body of the Bredi out of his
    "There were thirty performers in the circus
     ,'And Gwynne," Caeled reminded him.
     They broke into a run again. They were at the oute 'r
    perimeter of the camp when they found another d!
    Bredi dangling from the branches of a tree, turning
    slowly, a loop of vines knotted securely around its neck.
     Caeled felt a hollowness in his belly. The forest was too
    quiet. The screams they had heard earlier - human
    screams - had carried a note of absolute terror. And thev
    
    had ended too suddenly.
      With preternaturally alert senses he sought a reassu
    ing hum of insect life, a whisper of bird wings, any smeH
    or feel or taste of normal activity. But the forest was as stiR
    as death.
     "Madran, wait... " he warned.
     Too late - the Madra AlIta had already pushed apart
    the screen of leaves and branches and stepped out into
    the clearing where the caravans formed a circle around
    the smoldering campfire.
     A groan of anguish was wrung from him.
     The circus was devastated. After an appallingly brief,
    baffle bodies lay everywhere; few were intact.
     The Bred were still crouched over their victims,
    feeding.
     A score of heads raised to look at the Madra Allta. With
    a roar, he charged them. He killed two of the e 'n
    before they could even get to their feet, ripping the Zroayt
    from one and then hurling himself on the next without
    stopping for breath.
     All control was lost to emotion as Madran flowed
    through his ARta shapes, alternately man and dog,,*nd
    terri~ing amalgam, his form as fluid as tears and as savage
    as rage. When his jaws were not locked onto one of the
    Bredi, he flung back his head and filled the forest with
    howls of absolute despair.
    
    Caeled had been about to follow him into the

    




    Morgan Llywelyn & Michael Scott
    
    325
    
    when a glimpse of movement among the trees to his left
    sent him into a baffle crouch instead. His metal hand
    clenched into a fist.
     Sioraf was standing half concealed among the trees,
    her eyes turned toward the scene in the clearing. In her
    right hand was a ripple-edged dagger. Her dark curls
    were wildly tangled, her clothing half ripped from her.
    Claw marks scored her throat and the upper part of her
    breasts.
    
     No sooner did she appear than Gwynne materialized
    few paces to the right as if rising from solid earth
    Looking at Caeled, the Stone Warrior put a finger ove
    
    her lips to signal silence.
     She moved to Caeled's side. They watched together
    through a screen of leaves as Madran was being driven
    
    back and surrounded bv the band of Bredi.
    
    Gwynne abruptly turned away.
    Caeled caught her arm. 'Where are you going?" he
    
    whispered.
     She puffed free. "Y"ile they're busy with him we can
    get away.
       ut Madran
    
      s as good as dead," GAynne hissed, "and I don't want
    to join him. Those creatures have us seriously outnum-
        I
    
    bered.'
    
     "I'll not walk away and leave Madran.
     "He is Madra Allta," replied Gwynne coldly. "A werebeast,
    noth~nv, more. Let the Bred have him."
    
     "Abandon him to them and you're no better than they
    are!"
    
     They glared at each other as a silent battle of wills
    raged. Then Caeled, breathing hard to control his anger,
    
    tumed back toward Madran.
    
     Twelve of the saurian Bredi had penned the Madra
    AlIta against the circus supply wagon. They were jabbing
    at him with spears and tridents, playing with him as
    cruelly as cats with a bird Only Madran's reflexes kept

    




    ~i !
    
    I
    
    326
    
    SILVERHAND
    
    them from impaling him, although he had already
    received a number of minor wounds. He continued to
    shape-shift, howling with a ravening rage that was
    terrifying to hear. In a hand which was sometimes a
    clawed paw he held a sickle torn from its holder on the
    side of the wagon. The curved blade dripped ore.
      Caeled caught a whiff of copper and bitter Erbs.
      'What will you do?" asked a soft voice. "How can we
    fight so many?"
      Sioraf stood beside him now. She seemed to radiate not
    human warmth, but an intense cold.
      "Fire," Caeled replied with sudden inspiration. "If wrepi
    could throw burning branches into their midst. . . "
      "It might distract them long enough for Madran
    escape!" Sioraf finished the thought for him.
      "He doesn't want to escape," insisted the S
    Warrior. "Can't you see? The Allta blood lust grips him
    he's out of control. He just wants to M and IdU."
      "You cannot blame him," said Sioraf, pointing to
    bundle of rags on the far side of the dying campfire.
      After a moment Caeled recognized the bloo-Istain
    garments - and knew whose body they contain
    "Pup," he whispered.
      Sioraf nodded sadly. "Madran cannot rest while
    killers live."
      41 grieve with him," said Caeled. "So much pain
    much death. And now this child ...
      'They are nothing to you!" Gwynne broke in, her
    hard. 'They weren't even human. Think of yourself and
    forget about them, it's the only way to survive."
                                           tone
    
                                           voi
    
      Caeled deliberately turned away from her, then dartd(
    from the concealment of the bushes. He kept his eye
    averted from the pathetic bundle lying beyond the fire a
    he seized a smoldering branch and whipped it back
    forth until it burst into flame aizain. Then he - - I
    
    torch into the midst of the Bred.
     The blazing brand struck one of the creatures full I

    




    s
        17W
    
    d
    
    Morgan Llywelyn & Michael Scott
    
    327
    
    the face, igniting the oily sweat exuding from its pores.
    Flames raced the length of its body in an eyeblink. With a
    shrill screech, the burning saurian lumbered sideways,
    crashed into another Bredi, clutched at it, dragged it
    down. They collapsed together to die in flames.
     Four Bredi left Madran and ran with surprising speed
    toward Caeled. He tossed another burning branch at
    them but it fell short. One of the creatures unexpectedly
    leaped the last two strides, landing on top of Caeled with
    a bonejarring thud.
     He managed to strike it once, delivering a blow with
    his metal hand that shattered the bones above its;eyes and
    drove slivers into its brain. The dying Bredi pinned
    Caeled to the earth with its body. While he was struggling
    to free himself the others were upon him. He fought back
    as best he could, but felt them crowding over him;
    smelled their hate, heard their hunger. He was dimly
    aware that the rest of their party had come to join them,
    closing in for the kill.
      So now it ends, Caeled told himself. So soon....
     The young man's lips twisted in a bitter smile. The
    Seekers were wrong. He was not the Spoken One after
    
     Hot blood spattered across his face. He flinched
    automatically, closing his eyes so he would not see the
    face of death.
     When he realized the weight had lifted from his chest
    he opened them again in surprise to find himself still
    ahve.
     A dead saurian lay beside him. Gwynne reached down
    and extended a hand to help him up. The bulbous end of
    her morningstar was clotted wid- blood and saurian
    scales, and as Caeled rose groggily to his feet he saw
    Sioraf wiping the edge of her dagger clean on what
    remained of her skirt.
    
    RI
    
    There were eight remaining Bredi. Gwynne accounted

    




    328
    
    SILVERHAND
    
    for three, fatally bashing them with her morningstar while
    they were unable to claw through her invulnerable hide.
    Madran, bleeding but still wild with rage, killed two more
    with fangs and sickle. Caeled cut down another two with
    single blows of the silver hand, using techniques Armadiel
    had taught him which he had never expected to need.
    Sioraf flowed up behind the last of the Bredi as it raised a
    lizardlike arm to strike Caeled from behind, and drove
    her long dagger through the armpit and into its heart.
      Silence descended on the forest again, broken only by
    the harsh, ragged breathing of the living.
      They looked at one another dazedly. Gwynne, who b* I
    moved her bulk with a warrior's speed at the height of the
    battle, was paying for it now. Her heart hammered as if it
    would burst, her lungs worked like bellows. But she hid
    her discomfort behind a stony expression.
     With an effort, Madran stabilized his shifting form and'
    ran to his dead child. What appeared to be a human man
    crouched over Pup, stroking the small body with a entle
    tentative hand. Then he threw back his head and e!-littej
    a howl of grief that was not human at all, a ululation that
    made the hair rise on the back of Caeledls neck and filled
    Siorafs eyes with tears.                 I ~I
     Only the Stone Warrior remained impassive.
     At last the four survivors began burying their dead.

    




    CHArTIER fIfTY-fOVR
    
     "An entire troop!" Lares repeated with incredulous
    anger. He swept an arm along the shelf, hurling books
    and charts to the ground. 'Twenty of the Bred!-
     Sarel stood in front of her brother, forcing him to look
    into her eyes. Then she moved until her body was pressed
    against his, so he felt her nakedness through the
    diaphanous cloth of her gown. Her body was the comfort
    she offered him as she urged, "Be calm, MY brother, calm.
    Whatever has happened,- there is nothing we cannot
    handle."
     Lares allowed his head to rest on his sister's shoulder.
    Frustration seethed and bubbled inside him. The Bred
    were meant to be invincible, the ultimate warriors. Many
    inferior early creations had been destroyed during the
    initial trials, but those were acceptable losses incurred in
    development. Suddenly losing twenty of the best, how-
    ever ...
     "What happened?" Sarel wanted to know. She cupped
    her hand around the back of his skull and ran it soothingly
    downward, stroking his neck with circular motions of her
    thumb and forefinger.
     "A raiding party was on the trail of the two who
    escaped from Baddalaur. They followed them downriver,
    close to the Forest of Taesir, but there they lost them.
    Scouts were sent into the fringes of the forest ahead of a
    troop of twenty of our best warriors.
            disappeared," he concluded bleakly.

    




    330
    
    SILVERHAND
    
      "Could they have wandered into marshland and
    drowned?"
      "There is none," Lares told her. I sent Kichal hims
    in search of them and he brought me a detailed report of
    the area, but no living Bredi."
      "Ajid?" Sarel asked, although she could read the
    answer from the tension in her brother's bodv.
    
      "Kichal found the remains of an encampment
    circus - and our troop. Their bodies had been maul
    and chewed by animals, but he could see that we
    had done most of the killing. Weapons such as men c
      'The same wounds as before?"
      'The same. Except two Bredi were burned b
    recognition."
      'The natural body oils of the saurian type bum
    Sarel commented. 'We shall have to speak to the Breeder
    about making modifications. What else did Kichal re-
    port?"
      'There were piles of rocks scattered around the edge
    the camp. Kichal had them pulled apart. They proved
    be caims over graves which contained humans
    non-humans who must have been with the circus."
      Lares paused. He wrapped his arms around his si
    and squeezed her tightly. "You realize what this mean'?"
      She nodded slowly. "Of course. The Bred are no
    invincible after all, and there are those who know th
    now." As she spoke an unwanted image of a silver han
    drifted across her mind.
      Lares felt her stiffen in his embrace. 1"at are
    going to do?" he asked her.
      "Find those who killed our Bred," Sarel said si
    "Find them and kill them."
      "But how are we going to find them?"  'V
      'Through the Aethyra."

    




    CHArTIER fIfTY-fIVE
    
     They took shelter on a mud flat in the river. Huddled
    beneath the massive, drooping leaves of an abnormally
    large water-vine, they sat in silence and watched a driving
    rain whip the surface of the river to froth.
     There was heavier rain higher in the mountains. A
    flood, perhaps. The water pouring downstream was
    brown and dirty beneath its crest of foam.
     No one spoke. There was nothing to say. Only Gwynne
    eventually tried to sleep, but then her dreams were
    troubled. Her children came back to haunt her - though
    not her husband, never Silan. Collum, Marik, Nole,
    Bevan and baby De-fyl appeared in silent procession,
    their faces calm as death masks but their eyes accusing, as
    if she was to be blamed for having survived.
     Then as she held her arms out to them they began to
    change. The childish foreheads became more sloping, the
    eyes narrowed to slits. Their horrified mother saw her
    chAdren transmogrified into the Bred.
     In her sleep the Stone Warrior twitched and moaned.
    One hand clenched into a fist, relaxed, clenched again.
    Behind her closed eyes her eyeballs rolled painfully, for
    their natural lubricity was gradually drying up as the
    relentless petrification process continued.
      Within her skull, Gwynne's mind was also changing.
     Desires altered, plans were reformed. Emotions faded
     to be replaced by new and stronger feelings.
      Her loss became a stone in her heart, weighing more

    




    332
    
    SILVERHAND
    
    heavily than any need for herself. The stone commanded
      She opened her eyes.
      The expression in them had changed.
      A decision was made.
      She would slay the Duet. What good would it do her to
    force them to cure her strange disease? The children
    would still be lost to her, the grief would be as intense.
      Only one thing might ease that pain. Avenging
    
    dead.
      Personally. Not Caeled, but the Stone Warrior must b
    the one to strike them down. Nothing less would suffice.
      And for that she would need the Arcana.  J
      She would allow Caeled to lead her to the Areana,
    since he was the one with directions. Then she would
    demand he give the ancient tools of power to her. There
    was a chance he would refuse, of course. But if he did
      It would be unfortunate. But her need to avenge her
    family took precedence over everything else.
      And Caeled was not as strong as she was. She could
    him if she must. Kill him without hesitation as what
    left of her heart finally turned to stone.   I
                                               I
      Madran was not sitting upright but curled into a bd 1
    with arms and legs gathered against his body. Though ' A
    was awake he kept his eyes closed to shut out the view,
    the river. In the turbulent current an occasional tree h
    spun past, looking like the upraised arm of a dr
    figure.
      Or a murdered figure.
      No matter how hard he tried, Madran could not shut
    
    out the image of Pup seared on his brain.
      At least she had died quickly; he had that sp
    consolation. She could not possibly have survived
    horrific iniuries for more than a heartbeat.
    
      But how terrible that brief moment must have been
    her!
      The big man ground his teeth together His hands C101"

    




    Morgan Llywelyn & Michael Scott
    
    333
    
 convulsively, the nails piercing unnoticed the flesh ofhis palms.
     The Bred had done terrible things to the child he had
     sworn to protect. Sworn, with all the superhuman
     devotion of which he was capable, to the only creature he
     had ever loved.
     The Bred were controlled by the Duet.
     They must be punished.
     They would be punished.
     Deep in his throat, the man who was not a man began
    to growl.
    
     Sioraf had seen many dead in her short life. In
    childhood she had taken sustenance from the bodies of
    the dead who were to be found in the back streets of any
    large town. Their congealing blood was distasteful and
    unsatis~ing, but at least it kept her alive. As she grew and
    her body ripened it became possible to entice living
    men - and women - and take what she needed from
    them. Hot sweet blood, flowing through the throat like
    velvet, bringing a glow to her pale flesh.
     She had tried not to be greedy, taking only a little blood
    at a time. The bites of her tiny, needle-sharp teeth usually
    went unnoticed in the throes of passion. Then one night
    she had gone too far and taken too much from a plump
    merchant in Bhopal, only to have him die in her embrace.
     She would never '.-Ilorget the curious mixture of fear and
    satisfaction she experienced, the sudden realization of the
    power she possessed.
    
    ir
    
     After that there were other deaths, but they had little
    effect on her. They were simply the cost of her own
    survival. She was even able to look upon the ravaged body
    of her father and gauge with an experienced eye the
    depth of his wounds and the probable cause of death.
     For the first time, her sense of detachment disturbed
    her. Was she becoming ... so unhuman? What of the
    future? Would the Sioraf she knew fade away, leaving a
    monster behind?
    
    --Am
    
    ~jj
    1 1 MW

    




    334
    
    SILVERHAND
    
      Suddenly she, who had never been frightened, s
    ered with fear. Fear of herself.
      There was another fear, also. Without the circus as
    protection, as camouflage, the life expectancy of her
    u
    was limited. Sooner or later her identity wor Idt
    discovered. Ordinary people would hunt her down.
    was not immortal; vampiri could be slain and their d
    were usualiv horrible.
    
      She needed protection such as jocylyn had given
    Someone who loved her enough to give her a drink
    his own warm veins when she could find no other prey.
    Someone strong and confident, who would not
    threatened by her existence but be willing to share.
      From such a person she would never take enougi
    kill, not as long as he kept her safe. But to be willing to
    that he would have to love her.
      And who would love a vampir?
      She turned her vividly blue eyes toward Caeled.
    Someone like him, perhaps; a man with a blemish of his
    own might be more tolerant of hers. He did not love her.
    yet. But Sioraf was an expert in making men love her.
    
      Caeled stared into the river, using techniques he h
    been taught in Baddalaur to cleanse his mind of the s"ce
    he had recently witnessed. But he could not build
    against the emotions of others. He was acutely conscious of
    Madran's pain. The Madra Alltds grief spread ou a~rd
    him in concentric circles that seemed to penetraZe
    own flesh.
      For many cycles he had believed the Allta n
    than bestial brutes who lived only to kill and
    had actually accompanied Armadiel on a hunt through Ae
    mountains for a Madra Allta reported to be lurking along
    the trail leading to the Town. During three days' searc~
    they had found plenty of evidence of a large wild &'
    roaming the area, but no proof that it was a werebeast. ~ I
      Caeled had been disappointed. He had want4,

    




    desperately, to find a Madra AlIta and kill it with his silvei
    hand, a nicely symmetrical vengeance. Though they never
    found the creature thev souaht, his desire for revenve had
    
     When Caeled first met Madran he felt the old fear, the
    sick fear that welled u13 in the Dit of his stomach and
    
     Then he had watched as Madran buried the body of his
    daughter. Until then he never knew that beasts could weep.
     Now he hurt for the Madra Allta.
    
     The sensation and its implications surprised him, but
    there were more immediate matters to consider. Deci-
    
     During the cycles he spent in Baddalaur he had been
    trained for one purpose: finding the Arcana and using
    them against the Duet. Reimposing order on a chaotic
    world. No one asked him if he desired this destinv it lunq
    
     As time passed, however, he had begun to suspect the
    location of the Arcana might never be discovered. At first
    he felt disappointment, but as he grew older and the
    adventurous dreams of childhood faded he began actually
    looking forward to a placid existence as a Scholar. He
    would spend his days expanding his knowledge, losing
    himself in tales of the Elder Times. He would not even
                                       He told
    
    seek promotion to the brotherhood of Seekers
    himself he had seen enouvh of the outside world
    
    He told himself a quiet life would be comfortable
    Then chaos intervened.
    
    ironic smile. If the Bre~
    attacked addalaur- if Nanri had not been Onin
    
    the secret location of the Arcana mipbt never have beer
    
    101MG anQ 111S 11te WOUICI have Droceeded as he imaj ned.
    
    Everything would have remained unchan ed
    
    Caeled knew the location of two of th

    




    336
    
    SILVERHAND
    
    Arcana. And when he found them, they would lead him to
    the other two.
      His fingers stole to the leather pouch that carried
    precious information. The Staff and the Stone were
    secreted in the great and ancient city of Gor in the land
    Taesir
      - The young man stroked the pouch, considering
    tricks played by fate.
      Was it fate that brought him to the edge of the
    of Taesir?
      Now there were decisions to be made. He could
    his destiny and turn away, head south to Karfondal, o
    west into Galloway, or maybe east to the Barbarian I
    But then what?
      The Bred would remain, the Duet would remain, e
    Nations would sink into a chaotic abyss characterize Y
    the dissolution of natural order. The plants, the ve
    animals, were already giving evidence of a hideous
    regression. Everything humankind had built would'be
    lost. The people would retreat further and further into
    ignorance and barbarism until they were less than human.
      And the chaos would not be limited to the Seven
    Nations. Reports brought to Baddalaur had indicated that
    the world beyond was similarly caught up in a cycle of
    destruction. If the twins had access to the Aethyra an4
    were working through it, their influence was boundless.
      The young man shook his head. Such total, uncamig
    destruction was unacceptable. Pictures flashed thro "
                                            UP
    his mind: the horrors of the Voids, the stinking pools o
    filth that had been people, the rampaging Bredi warii
    ors there had to be an alternative future.
      There would be, if he could defeat the Duet. His
    be a futile attempt; the Arcana could be long go
    twins could prove too powerful ... but at least he ckuld
    
    try. Must try.
      Caeled smiled again, grimly.
      Perhaps there was no escaping destiny after all.

    




    CHArTER fIfTY-SIX
    
     'We're being watched," said Madran as he fell into step
    beside Caeled. I feel eyes staring at the back of my
    neck."
     "Ever since we entered the forest," Caeled affirmed.
     'The Bred?"
     The young man shook his head. "I donpt think so. These
    smell ... different. Almost human."
     "Your nose is almost as keen as mine, apparently," said
    Madran with new respect. The big Madra Allta pulled his
    jerkin tighter around his shoulders and shivered, though
    it was not cold. His hand tightened on the hilt of the
    sickle he carried with him constantly now, still crusted
    with Bredi gore. 'These -are ancient forests. Who knows
    what survives in them?"
     Caeled looked around with a sense of wonder.
    Heart of the World," he murmured.
      Madran glanced sharply at him.
     "The Heart of the World," Caeled repeated, "that's
    what the Forest of Taesir is called on the ancient maps
    and charts. The Elders ruled from the city of Gor. When
    their world died the city was lost and this mighty forest
    grew out of the ruins, nourished by the bodies of a million
    dead.,,
     As far as the eye could see, nut-bearing goldwoods rose
     in their thousands, straight as spears. They sprouted no
     branches until they reached ten man-heights, at which
     point horizontal claw-like limbs encircled the boles of the

    




    338
    
    SILVERHAND
    
    trees. Like the bark, the pointed leaves were the color of
    old gold. Although the matted canopy they formed
    prevented much light from reaching the forest floor, an
    occasional slanting sunbeam shot a momentary radiance
    through the gloom.
      Clustered around the roots of the trees were parasitic
    plants. Their thick tendrils climbed up the goldwoods,
    lacing the trunks with a clinging network of bruise-purple
    stems. On the largest trees these veins could be seen to
    pulse in a regular rhythm.
      Sioraf darted away from her companions to stand in a
    sudden sunbeam. With her arms wide and head thrown
    back, she bathed in the light as if trying to draw the heat
    of distant Nusas into her cold vampir flesh.
      She looks like a child, Caeled thought with surprise. A
    beautiful child, lost and alone and seeking comfort. "I
      Madran brought his thoughts sharply back. "Are you
    sure you can find what you're seeking in this place?"
      "No," Caeled replied, "I'm not at all sure. But I have to
    try."
      -What will you do if your quest is successful?"
      "Use the objects I find to destroy the twins."
      "And what then?"
      Caeled turned to look at him. "I don't know,"
    admitted. "I hadn't thought that far, ahead."
    Like a shadow, Sioraf slipped in next to Caeled. "Bea~s
    in the trees," she whispered. "Many creatures."   J
      The young man gazed into her luminous blue eyes. ffi
    dream of her was still startlingly vivid. "Are they
    Sioraf?"
      Her lips parted; her nostils flared. "Hummldnd..
    human," she replied, confirming Caele&s own impressions.
      Gwynne, who was forging ahead of the trio, halted
    abruptly and raised her hand. In the green twilight of the
    forest her body appeared to be solid stone. As the oters
    approached she knelt stiffly on the trail. 'What do you 4,011
    she asked over her shoulderMorgan Llywelyn & Michael Scott
                          i
    
    A
    
    Le
    
    339
    
     Dropping down beside her, Caeled peered along the
    twisting pathway. "Nothing in particular. Trees, vines.
    What am I loo~dng for?"
     'What did they teach you in that college?" she
    snapped. 'Tell him, Madran. I should think you noticed
    almost before I did."
     The Madra Allta crouche'-d beside Caeled and pointed
    at the ground with a long black fingernail. "Look at the
    pattern of leaves."
     As Caeled examined the trail Sioraf leaned over them,
    frowning slightly. "It's just a fall of leaves covering the
    path," she said.
     "Not quite," Madran replied. "Look behind you."
     Caeled looked over his shoulder. 'There are a lot less
    leaves on the track behind us," he observed. Turning
    again to the scattering of leaves before him, he realized
    they were not a random scattering, but a very thorough
    effort to cover ... to cover... He found a stone beside
    the path and tossed it onto the center of the trackway.
     The rock broke through the covering of leaves and
    went on falling. An opening yawned in the trail, revealing
    a stake-lined pit cleverly camouflaged beneath the fah-
    
 Madran grinned, baring his canine incisors. "The hole
     covered with a piece of leather, which in turn was
     covered with earth and leaves." He crept forward on all
     fours and gazed down into the pit. "Those stakes are
     newly sharpened. The wood is white and freshly cut."
     The others clustered around him.
     "Is this a man-trap?" Sioraf wondered.
     "Not really," Madran told her. "It's too shallow." He
    stood up and stared off into the forest. 'This trap was
    meant for smaller game. If we assume that the creatures
    in the trees built the pit . . . "
     " - . . they are intelligent," Caeled finished for him.
    ".~ncl they eat meat."
     .Pwynne worked her stiff shoulders, muscles grinding

    




    340              SILVERHAND
    
    V'ke old, stone. "I'Ley-re begin-Wing to get on my nerves
    whatever they are."
                 11
      "They~re close, said Sioraf.
      'C'now close? I-low can you t&?"
      The vampir sniffed. "I can smell warm blood." Her
    voice fell to a breathy whisper. "There's one in the tree
    beside you. It's in the branches directly above your head."
      The Stone Warrior tensed. Then without warning she
    lunged for the tree, hitting it solidly with her shoulder.
    The massive blow sent a shudder through the goldwood
    Some of its roots pulled loose from the soft earth. -,I
      The woman recoiled from the blow, sprawling 0111the
    ground while leaves and nuts began to rain down oul
    As she lay on her back Gwynne raised her legs and
    her feet against the tree again and again. Wood cre
    protest. Then, with a slow grinding, the ancient tree
    sideways. Roots erupte(l from the grouna,
      iutAeky at empty air as t3aelft   in
      a Mumexk, *~e-a 1Q"Wxe&. 11-1 Qxla~e& kQ1
      ffiun(ler ffiat eclioecl ffirough. ffie iorest, crusl-~ng,
    
    dozen smaller trees as it fell.
      Only Madran heard the high-pitched screarn th
    swallowed in the tremendous noise.
    
     "You fool!" Caeled raged, as Gwynne climbed s
    her Teet. --You've &ert(;d everytfiing'in -the 'tore
    we're here."
     "I assure you, they already knew." Brushin
    Caeled, the Stone Warrior faced the vampir. T
    smell blood now?"
      "I smell meat," Sioraf replied. She pointed
    length of the fallen tree. "Down there."
      Xs *iey approa&e& )&e Tigure,'~4-ng benelal&
    trunk, the forest burst into a cacophony of scree
    whistles and high-pitched ululations.
      Madran squinted into the leafy canopy hi
    "I've heard the Simpan-sai cry like that."
      Caeled crouched by the body on the ground.-

    




    re
    
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    )ast
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                        Morgan Llywelyn & Michael Scott  341
    
        T
    
    e
    r.
    
    the face and shoulders were intact, the remainder of the
    body had been crushed by the falling tree. It was that of a
    y?ung man not much older than himself The eyes were
    glazing; light brown eyes in a finely modelled, handsome
    face.
     As Caeled watched, the muscles of face and jaw began
    shifting beneath the skin, taking on a bestial appearance.
     "Madran," Caeled called softly. ,Look at this.,,
     The Madra Allta leaned over his shoulder to watch the
    transformation.
     The face was foreshortening. The eyes closed, sank
    into the skull. A mane of hair erupted from the scalp to
    encircle the features and conceal the thickening jaw.
     "Allta ... ?" Gwynne said uncertainly.
     Sioraf knelt by the man's head and touched one shm
    finger to the comer of the mouth, where a thread of
    blood was seeping into the beard. Raising her fingertip to
    her mouth, she licked it thoughtfully, closed her eyes,
    licked again. "Not human," she reported.
     Suddenly the changes began reversing. The features of
    a beast melted back ~i`nto the face of a handsome young
    man. Caeled and his companions glanced at one another
    in astonishment, but before they could comment another
    change took place and the bestial brow and jaw, the
    massive hair growth, reappeared.
     'When a man who has become one of the Clan Allta
    dies, he returns to his human form," said Madran. "When
    a true Allta dies, however, he takes on his animal form.
    What we are seeing here seems to be a creature caught
    between both. A new sort of Allta."
      "Is he dead yet?" Sioraf wanted to know.
     "Almost. His dying is certainly upsetting the forest,"
    commented Gwynne. "Just listen."
     The shrieks and screeches had risen to an unbearable
    pitch. At the same time, a rain of missiles began to fall,
    hurled from the trees. Hard nuts struck the four
     companions from all sides. Sioraf yelped as one hit her

    




    342
    
    SILVERHAND
    
    cheekbone hard enough to raise a bruise. Another
    shattered on the Stone Warrior's skull.
     "Now what?" cried Caeled, dodging. 'This is your fault ,
    Gwynne. Why did you have to knock down a tree?" He
    raised his arms to protect his face.
      A nut pinged off his metal hand.
     Gwynne told him, "Sometimes it's necessary to get a
    reaction. We could have walked all day with these things
    in the trees shadowing us, biding their time. Or we could
    do what we've done now: forced them into revealing
    themselves."
     "Let's get out of here," said Madran. as the pelting grew
    worse. He set off at a loping run. Caeled and Sioraf
    promptly followed.
     But Gwynne lingered behind. A rain of nuts could not
    harm her.
      She stepped close to a massive goldwood and
    upward until she caught sight of figures moving thro
    the tree tops. Vaguely manlike, they slithered down the
    vines and clustered around the broken body on the
    ground. The Stone Warrior squinted, but her sight was
    not as clear as it once was and she found it difficult to
    make out details.                       ugh
     The dark figures clustered around the fallen tree
    communicated with high-pitched, chittening noises. Tw
    seemed to be making gestures of some
    Gwynne heard a gasp followed by an aborted scream.
      After that, silence. Until her ears detected the
    
    sort. Thv'~
    
                                          unrm-.,.
      Gwynne turned away; she knew now what haunted twM
    upper levels of the trees.
      She set off after Caeled, Madran and Sioraf, following
    
    takeable sounds of animals feeding.
    
    their trail through the forest. Although she kept her eyes
    on the track, her ears were keenly aware of every souZI
    around her, listening for the first hint of chittering and
    screeching that would warn she was being pursued. i
     When she reached a fork in the trail she paused. The if

    




    :Ie
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    yes
    Md.
    Wd
    
    rhe
    
    Morgan Llywelyn & Michael Scott
    
    343
    
    ground was firm and not easily footprinted, but she
    detected traces of Madran's heavy tread going off to the
    left, down toward a scummy pool half-hidden in under-
    
    growth.
    
     Following the trail, Gwynne discovered the footprints
    of Caeled Sioraf and Madran in the soft mud at water's
    
    edge.
    
    There the trail ended.
    Gwynne found no footprints going away from the
    
    pond.
    
    None at all

    




    CHArTER fJfTY_SEVE4 N
    
      Against a seething maelstrom of colors, the two
    crows blazed with cold light.
      Higher and higher through the levels of the Aethyra
    they rose on the Timewinds, soaring above the emotional
    outpourings, the dreams and nightmares of the World
    Below.
      The twins could not remember the first time they hap
    entered the Lower Realms, consciously visiting the
    dreamscapes lesser beings could only reach through
    sleep. The earliest memories of the Duet went back to
    their first few moons in the flesh. Certainly by their third
    cycle, they were accomplished enough to have explored
    A the lower levels of the Aethyra.
     They were convinced, moreover, that they had visite
    the Middle Realms in the Time before Birth. Sare
    particular retained a vivid image of the Place of
    Memories. But unlike others who had access to
    Aethyra, they had never attempted to  e
    Timewinds and watch themselves in the Tim,=rre.
      Sarel and Lares believed that only Time Now
    
    tered. Always, Time Now.
      As the cycles had passed and their strength incre
    the desire to stretch their limits grew. Upon ente"Ift
    young adulthood they discovered the joys of sexua uni
    From this rapturous joining they learned to draw,,
    energy, allowing them to go higher and higher into Ce
    Aethyra until they gained access to the Realms of Powern

    




    Morgan Llywelyn & Michael Scott
    
    345
    
     In that trackless landscape of audible color, of fragrant
    shapes, of sounds made tangible, they had learned to
    interpret what was happening in the World Below by
    observing the layers of the Aethyra. Every action in the
    World Below caused a reaction somewhere within the
    Thirty Realms Above.
     The majority of events never penetrated above the
    lowest levels, where mundane feelings and experiences
    were reflected.
     But the more intense passions - undiluted hatred,
    uncontrolled lust, deepest love - managed to percolate
    through to the Fifth Realm and sometimes beyond. Most
    magical exercises involved sufficient power to move still
    higher. When the twins began drawing power from the
    Realms to fuel the Voids, the ripples spread throughout
    the Aethyra, disturbing dreams, tainting emotions, dis-
    torting the shapes and colors of the drearnscape so that all
    who ventured within, even the innocent in their slum-
    bers, were tormented.
     So far the Duet had never attempted the highest five of
    the thirty levels. Those Realms were shadowy regions
    where moved huge shapes beyond the knowing of mortal
    ken. According to legend, the gods themselves inhabited
    the Highest Realms. The twins insisted they did not
    believe in any gods other than themselves. But even Sarel
    had not dared enter the uppermost levels. Yet.
     Following the invisible tracery of power that shaped
    the topography of the lower Aethyra, they had flown
    westward toward Baddalaur, gradually climbing until the
    only landmarks were the explosions of color resulting
    from powerful emotions in the World Below.
    
             was marked by a pustulous yellow smear
    permeating a number of layers of the Aethyra. The deaths
    of so many men with powerful minds, some of them
    long-time travellers in the Aethyra, had left an ugly stain
    on the dreamscape that might never disappear. The

    




    346
    
    SILVERHAND
    
    hideous echoes of death and pain would attr ' act evil
    entities. Drawn by the foul discoloration, some would
    make their way into the World Below, giving the ruined
    College the reputation of being haunted. Many of the
    lesser forces - vile thoughts and malignant emotions
    made substantial in the Realm of the Unsubstantial -
    would remain in the Aethyra. But in the Aethyra,
    thoughts became words and words became flesh.
      As the twins approached the extinct volcano which had
    housed the College, Lares' form changed from that of a
    white crow into a gleaming man-shape of polished jet.
    Onyx eyes regarded the ruins impassively. "Such a waste'
    he commented. "They should have joined us."
      Sarel chose to assume a form of cut crystal, her
    brother's exact opposite. The female voice emanating,
    from the sparkling facets said, 'We gave them the choice,
    but Maseriel refused. If anyone is to blame, he is."
      Lares replied, "He was an arrogant fool. He thought her"i
    would find a way to destroy us, probably because he
    wanted our power for himself. But he's dead now. They're
    0 dead, the brotherhood ' who worshipped order."
      Not quite all, Sarel thought. But she did not speaW
    aloud. Acutely sensitive to her brother's emotions, she diAl
    not want to spoil his feeling of triumph.
      Lares drifted lower, jet turning to jade. His masculine
    form softened, curved, became feminine. Sarel held herself
    apart, allowing him peace to formulate his thoughts.
      Her brother's body shimmered, changed. She smiled to
    see that he was now her mirror image in every way.
      "The ultimate compliment," she told him.
      Together the now-identical pair examined the rents
    the Aethyra which the Voids had created. In the Ceutr~
    Courtyard there was a swirl of invisible activity as
    lowest of the layers attempted to heal itself.
      To one side was a black hole, a pinprick in the fabric
    
                                            1-)0-,
    the Aethyra which was all that remained of the largest ~,
    the Voids. Sarel noted its position; the hole would never ~

    




                 Morgan Llywelyn & Michael Scott   347
    
       close. If they ever again needed to create a Void in this
       region, it would be a simple matter to open the small hole
       and allow the dark energy they summoned to come
       flooding through.
       In the beginning she and Lares had been forced to
       move the Voids from location to location through the
       Aethyra. Then they had discovered that, once activated
       and allowed to feed, the Voids never totally disappeared.
       The Aethyra above the dungeons in Barrow was speckled
       with tiny black holes. Sarel sometimes speculated on what
       might happen if they ever flowed together ...
         "Come to me."
       Lares' voice drew her closer until they were almost one
       figure, not two. Sarel relaxed her own edges, letting
       herself flow into him. She knew it pleased him to have her
       thus, with no line of demarcation between them. Unable
       to tell where one left off and the other began.
       "Look," Lares commanded with a voice that might
       have been hers, or Ms.
         Two pair of eyes became one pair; stared; sought.
         The Aethyra shuddered sickeningly.
       After a moment of disorientation, Sarel realized they
       were seeing into the Realm of the Timewinds.
         As if viewed through a haze of smoke, the scene below
        ,U    and took on life. Or the memory of life.
    it - 1-9--d
        As the Duet watched, figures once again fought to the
        death. Bredi battled Seeker. Bursts of intense emotion
        exploded like flares, illuminating the scene with flashes of
        hot yellow and slashing red, pulsing moments of blue pain.
        Black blood lust, white light of death.
        "Only the higher consciousness leaves a clear sign," Lares
        reminded his sister as the dull, muddy emotions of the
        Bredi warriors faded to nothingness. The more intense
        auras generated by the Seekers and Scholars remained as
        afterimages when the men themselves were dead, but
        eventually they too began to disappear, absorbed into the
        fabric of the Aethyra.

    




    348
    
    SILVERHAND
    
      A burst of brilliance caught Sarel's attention. Delicately
    extricating herself from Lares, she traced pulsing prisms
    to a wounded Seeker in the doorway of a stone chamber,
    slashing the air with two swords. His image was so
    powerful it dimmed his opponent's to nothing, so he
    appeared to be fighting empty space.
      A line of blood slashed his forehead, a savage wound
    opened on his torso. He turned his head and called,
    mouth opening and closing.
      Sarel slipped farther from her brother, following the
    sound waves. As she moved into the stone chamber she
    recognized an anomaly in the Realm of the Timewinds.
    This level of transparent colors was bisected by an opaque
    white cone. The cone was a dead consciousness, but one
    powerful enough to sustain its integrity even in death.
      Sarel's curiosity quickened, leading her on toward the
    rear of the chamber.
      She saw him then.
      The Silverhand.
      A very young man, his emotions incandescent,
    crouched over the body of a dead Scholar. The white
    cone was emanating from the corpse.
      Around them, the air crackled.
      Enough light was cast by the white cone to illuminate
    the dead face. The lips were not moving, nor were words
    discernible, but Sarel felt their vibrations and knew thwq
    the Scholar was somehow speaking to the young man whff"
    bent over him.
      The Silverhand rose, crossed the chamber, bent,
    picked up something. He held a slipper; tore it apad.
    Sarel glimpsed a flat rectangular shape.
      "Brother?" she called silently to Lares.
      In an instant, she felt him with her. His warmth was at
    her back, his breath on her cheek. 'Watch closely," he,
    advised. "Do not lose sight of him whatever happens."
      Sarel stared at the face of the young man with the sfl-
    ver hand, but there was no need to memorize hi

    




    Morgan Llywelyn & Michael Scoff
    
    349
    
    features. She would never forget them.
     The Realm shifted; the Timewinds blew. Lares and
    Sarel followed the Silverhand as he was blown along
    time's pathway. There were glimpses of the young man
    each time his emotions flared ...
    
        fighting a Bredi ...
        falling down a well ...
     ... seized by a stone hand. .
      ... more battlinL7 a ainst the Bred. .
                 ~ 9
     Then for a while, nothing.
     'Where is he?" Sarel gritted. "How can he suppress his
    emotions so we cannot find him?"
     But the search was fruitless until the Duet turned
    southward on the Aethyra. Above the forest where the
    troop of the Bred had been lost, they caught glimpses of a
    familiar aura.
     "Silverhand!" Lares cried. "Down there!"
     But he was not alone. Mingled with his consciousness
    were traces from human and non-humans, a bewildering
    assortment of life forms. The familiar, angry hues of battle
    and killing.
     In the Realm of the Timewinds a Madra Allta threw
    back his head and emitted a howl of such human grief
    that the colors surged through five layers of the Aethyra.
     Then the auras faded. From the Aethyra, the twins
    sought to find them again but without emotions intense
    enough to mark their location, the Silverhand and his
    companions vanished.
    
     Later, much later, lying in one another's arms in the
    bedchamber in the Imperial Palace in Barrow, the Duet
    reviewed their experience.
     "The Silverhand is like a blight upon the rose," Sarel
    said angrily. "For many cycles he has been our enemy."
     'Was he Maseriel's tool?" Lares wondered. 'The
    Hieromonach's weapon?"
     "You remember that night ... ?"

    




    350
    
    SILVERHAND
    
      She felt Lares' nod as he recalled the night the
    silverhanded boy invaded their sanctuary.
      "In the Realm of the Timewinds I saw the dead Scholar
    communicate with him," Sarel continued. "He told the
    Silverhand where to find something, and while I watched,
    he... "
      "Such power!" Lares interrupted, unable to control
    himself. "Imagine a mere Scholar holding the spirit to tht
    body like that, after death! He must have been in terribl(
    pain, tugged this way and that way, yet his will power wa.-
    incredibly strong."
      "Strong enough to pass a message to the Silverhand,'
    Sarel continued.
      'What was it?"
      "I could not tell for certain because the object gave ol
    no emanations in the Aethyra. But by reflected light,
    appeared to be a page with writing on it."
      "A book?"
      'Just a single sheet. But obviously terribly important.'~
      "Important enough for the Scholar to delay his dying
    Lares said. 'What could possibly be that important J
    Baddalaur?"
      Sarel gasped,
      '-Fhe Arcana!" they exclaimed simultaneously.
      Before dawn, while the terrified people of Barrc
    cowered behind bolted doors the largest army of the Bri
    ever assembled was marching through the city's desert,
    streets, on its way to the Forest of Taesir.

    




    CHArTER FIfTY-EIGHT
    
     A high-pitched squeal brought Caeled suddenly awake.
    The squeal was cut short by the snap of brittle bones. He
    opened his eyes in time to see the convulsively kicking
    hindquarters of a dog-rat disappearing into the maw of a
    massive wolfhound.
     An old memory came flooding back - bloody fangs
    and snapping bones! He leaped to his feet with a cry of
    terror.
     The dog's shape lost cohesion, flowed into that of a big
    man,Mth shaggy white-blond hair.
     Caeled took a deep breath to calm his racing heart. For
    one moment he had been a boy again, attacked in a
    swamp by a Madra AlIta. He was a boy no longer yet the
    terror could still reach across the cycles and clutch him by
    the throat when he was least prepared. His left hand
    closed into a fist.
     'What happened to us?" he asked hoarsely. His lips felt
    numb. "I remember ... a sudden prickling on the back of
    my neck, a feeling of danger ... I crouched, ready to fight
    . . . then . . . then it's all blank. I must have lost
    consciousness."
     "I think we ran into a dense pocket of marsh gas by that
    pool ' " Madran replied. A thread of blood dribbled from
    the comer of his mouth and he wiped it away unthink-
    ingly. He was accustomed to people being afraid of him
    but the young man's reaction was more, much more. "I
     sensed danger just as you did," he told Caeled. "It was all

    




    352
    
    SILVERHAND
    
    around me and I tried to change into my Allta shape, but
    everything began to swim before my eyes. I saw Sioraf
    fall; I tried to get to you- it felt like something grabbed
    me. I fought back but there was a roaring in my ears and a
    buzzing in my head ... then I passed out too, I suppose."
      'What about Gwynne?"
      "The stone woman isn't with us. The last tirne
    remember seeing her is when those creatures in the trees
    began pelting us with nuts."
      "Sioraf?"
      "Still sleeping, but she seems to be all right."
      'Where are we?"
      "In a dungeon, that's all I can say for certain. A
    dungeon full of rats," Madran added unnecessari4'
    licking his lips.
      Sioraf lay a few paces beyond the Madra Allta. She
    slept on her side with her head pillowed on her arm. In
    the dim light she might have been any lovely young
    woman.
      Caeled crouched over her. Her breathing was harshv
    ragged; perhaps an effect of the marsh gas. He pre
    his fingers to her throat.
      Where he expected to find a pulse, none beat. Her
    was cold.
      Gripping her wdst, he tried again.
      No throb of life there either.
      When he lifted her eyelid with his thumb, he ww
    horrified to discover that her eyes had rolled back in hq
    head. Blank orbs like white marbles stared at him.
      "If I couldn't hear her breathing I would think she A
    dead,"he told Madran in a puzzled voice.
      "Vampiri are not quite like humankind," replied t1v
                                            S'l
    
                                            slCd
    
    Allta. Taking Caeled's right hand, he pressed it betweei
    Sioraf's breasts. "A vampir's heart is larger than a humau i
    and many chambered. Situated here, in the center of ti
    chest, it is well-protected behind the ribs and a bony plat
    peculiar to their race."
    
    I

    




    Morgan Llywelyn & Michael Scott
    
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     Now Caeled detected the steady beat of Sioraf's heart.
    He was also suddenly, acutely aware of the softness of her
    breasts. He drew back his hand and turned his face away
    to hide his burning cheeks. He had never touched a
    woman in that way before. "Have you any idea where we
    
    are?" he asked Madran to cover his confusion.
    
     'Well, it was late atternoon when we encountered the
    gas. When I woke up it was as dark in here as the inside of
    a rock. Then suddenly light blazed through those slits
    near the ceiling, as if torches had been lit in the passage
    outside. So it must be night now. That means not enough
    time has passed for us to have been carried very far. We
    must still be close to our original location, whatever that
    
     The Allta's reasoning impressed Caeled. Aside from his
    eating habits, Madran was proving to be a valuable
    
    companion.
    
     The young man closed his eyes to concentrate on the
    charts he had studied at Baddalaur. After a moment he
    could see the maps as clearly as if they were spread out in
    front of him, but he recojznized no landmarks.
    
     Because there were none, he realized with dismay.
     There were no roads or settlements shown on any map
    depicting Taesir. The forest had an evil reputation; its vast
    reaches were usually illustrated as an undifferentiated
    
    mass of vegetation.
    
    They could be almost anyplace within it
    
     "If we are in a dungeon," he told Madran, "it is beneath
    some castle I've never heard of I don't recall anv castles
    
    in the Forest of Taesir."
    
     'Well, there must be one," the Madra Allta replied,
    "because we're under it. Could it be some remnant of the
    
    Elder Days?"
    
     "Possibly., Though I would have expected to see it on
    mar), the Elder sites are ... were . .
    
    . clear1v identified."
    
    "Unless this one wasn't meant to be found," suggested

    




    354
    
    SILVERHAND
    
      'That's it!" Caeled reached out with his right hand to
    feel the damp wall of their cell. Old stone, cold stone, the
    blocks perfectly fitted together without benefit of mortar.
    His questing palm moved along the wall to a square door
    coated with dust and grime. When he brushed away some
    of the dirt, metal rivets gleamed.
      Caeled turned to meet Madran's eyes. 'This is Elder
    work, all right," he said triumphantly.
      Such is the power of the Arcana ... the secrets of their
    location were hidden by the Elders ... the Staff and the
    Stone were secreted in the great and ancient city of Gor in
    the land of Taesir
      Madran's brown eyes gleamed. "Could this be the
    place you're searching for?"
      Caeled hesitated. "I don't think so.
      'A"y not?"
      9        >
    
    >1
    
      'Because we ve come to it too quickly."
      "Does everything have to be difficult? Perhaps
    gods were guiding you. The gods expect us to be slavishly
    devoted to them while they use us for idle amus
    and laugh at jokes we cannot understand. You and
    Sioraf - and that stone woman of yours, wherever she
    is - we are all picked up and thrown down at the whim
    of beings mightier than ourselves."
      "But I have a destiny!"                I -- "A
      Madran barked a laugh. "Destiny? What do you me
    by that?"
      Three days ago Caeled had been in Baddalaur; i
    influence was strong in his mind. 'The ordered pattern
    my life," he said stiffly.
      Madran laughed again, a harsh and mirthless so
    "Ordered pattern? If you think back honestly, I wager
    you'll find yourself in this dungeon as the end result
    countless unrelated incidents, cycle after cycle.
    you didn't expect, things that happened to you
                                       avis
                                       eme
                                      me an
    
                                           M
                                           un]
    
                                         eiult
                                         wJr
                                            0J
    any particular reason, they just happened. It's the same
    for all of us. Step by step our reactions to disorder in OVI
    
                                             1A

    




    Morgan Llywelyn & Michael Scott
    
    355
    
    lives brought us to this particular situation, but purely by
    accident. That isn't destiny. It's the gods, playing with us,"
    the Allta concluded bitterly. 'Watching to see what we
    do."
     Caeled clenched his fists. "I refuse to accept that my
    life is shaped by ... by accident and chaos! The Order is
    dedicated to the eradication of chaos and we ... we... "
     Unexpectedly, the grief and strain of the last few days
    rolled over the young man, exacting their toll. The
    strength to argue drained out of him. His shoulders
    slumped and he buried his face in his hands.
     "Everything seems to be falling apart," he said in a
    muffled voice. '"Y"at I thought was permanent and true
    has been swept away. The Order is . . . -
     "The Order is no more," Madran reminded him. "You
    told us yourself, Baddalaur is destroyed. Chaos reigns."
     Chaos reigns. The words seemed to echo in Caeled's
    head.
     Chaos. Random chance. The unforeseen and uncon-
    trollable.
      The enemy.
     The training so deeply instilled in him fought its way to
    the surface. Slowly, he lifted his head. The lines of his
    body grew taut; his jaw set in a grim line. "Not yet," he
    vowed. "Not while I'm alive."
     There was a stirring in the shadows. Wraithlike, Sioraf
    arose and came toward them. Caeled felt the cold
    radiating from her before she put her hand on his arm.
    'Someone's just outside," she warned in her husky
    whisper. "Someone's at the door."

    




    CHArTER fIfTY_NI4 NE
    
      Huddled beneath an exceptionally massive goldwood,
    Gwynne cursed the pelting rain. She could not feel its
    moisture on her skin, but the weather was making her
    bad mood worse. Gloom encased her like bitter fog.
      The rain had begun before sunset as a mist that
    gathered in the upper reaches of the trees, then gradu
    strengthened until it beat through the leaves, drenc
    the forest floor. It sounded like the tattoo of a thous
    drums and reverberated within the Stone Warrior's
    until she wanted to scream.
      Gwynne slammed her fist into the tree trun
    frustration. Whatever chance she had of finding
    others had vanished with nightfall and the storm.
      She had spent considerable time circling the po
    searching in vain for their footprints. She could not
    believe they had simply vanished into thin air . . . or
    walked into the tree-fringed pool and never come out
    again.
      Whatever happened to them must have been almo
    instantaneous, she decided; otherwise there would sur4
    be signs of a struggle. None of the three would hav
    surrendered easily.
      When the first drops of moisture fell, Gwynne's search
    had grown more desperate. Rain could wash
    footprints - if there were any. But as the drizzle
    into a deluge, she had at last found a clue.
      On the earth at the base of some goldwoods 9he

    




    Morgan Llywelyn & Michael Scoff
    
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    discovered tori shreds of fiber. With an effort, she tilted
    her head back and looked up. Dangling from a branch
    over her head was the broken end of a vine.
     The other end of the vine was part of the network in
    the trees.
     Bending over in spite of the protestations of her
    increasingly stiff body, Gmynne walked another slow
    circle around the pool with her gaze fixed on the ground,
    then widened her track into an outward spiral. East of the
    pool she found a second scattering of torn fibers with a
    single spear-shaped gold leaf tangled among them: a leaf
    from the high canopy of the forest.
     Gwynne crouched and picked up the leaf in clumsy
    fingers. It was fresh, with sap still oozing from its stem
    and tiny blue aphids scurrying along its underside.
     With a grunt of satisfaction the Stone Warrior looked
    up. Her eyes sought the dense mat of leaves far above.
    Vanished into thin air after all, she told herself. Carried
    into the treetops by those cannibalistic creatures we saw
    earlier.
      But how did they succeed in overpowering the three?
     She would continue the search as long as she could,
    but she began to despair of finding the missing trio alive.
     If Caeled is dead, she thought glumly, the secret of the
    Arcana is gone with him.
      Her body felt stiffer with every step she took.
     Suddenly she caught a whiff of an acrid odor strong
    enough to survive the rain. The foul effluvium made her
    gag and would have brought tears to her eyes if she were
    still capable of tears. Staring hard at the pool, she thought
    she detected a shimmering disturbance in the air above it.
      Marsh gas.
     Now she knew what had happened to Caeled and the
    Oth rs. She had reason to be thankful for her altered
     state; without her stone skin and changing metabolism
     she would probably be lying unconscious at the water's

    




    358
    
    SILVERHAND
    
      But she would not have suffered quite the same fate as-
    her companions.
      In the high mountains of the Spine, Gwynne had once
    led a rescue party into a collapsed mine shaft in search of,'
    four Snowscalds who had been seeking purple gems to,
    use for trade with the Gallowan merchants. When the
    rescue party broke through the barrier of stone and mud,
    they discovered the bodies of the women huddleo
    together.
      Gas trapped in the mine had killed them. When found,
    their bones were being gnawed by rats.
      The Stone Warrior smiled grimly at the memory.
    had little to fear from the creatures in the trees; anyu
    that tried to feed off her would find itself toothless.
      She had followed the trail of broken fibers until night
    closed in and the storm grew violent. Then a lead
    exhaustion overtook her. There was no point in tryingi-I
    go farther in the darkness, so she had taken shelter among
    the half-exposed roots of an incredibly large goldwood. Its
    canopy of leaves seemed to be turning most of the rain. 1,
    
      Gwynne awoke from a nightmare in which she
    trapped beneath a fallen tree while a creature
    blazing eyes tore at the few remaining fleshy parts of hei
    body - her mouth, tongue, eyes, her genitals
     At first she thought it was still raining. Then, as th~,'
    fragments of nightmare dispersed, she realized she was
    hearing the sound of leaves dripping. The storm itself had
    stopped.
      But the night remained, lightless and filled with danger.
      She need not fear carnivores but she was far .
    Her senses were dimming and her joints were
                                        aiger.
                                         tM
                                         ret
    ing to lock. She would not be able to survive in this
    much longer.
     Alone in the darkness,The last remnants of humanity would be lost to A
                                             I

    




    Morgan Llywelyn & Michael Scott
    
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    she would become a living statue. Deaf, dumb, blind,
    trapped in an immobile body ... but still aware, still
    sentient. Somehow she knew her brain would continue to
    live in its prison of stone.
     At times like this she allowed herself to plot the one
    infallible escape. She knew enough herbalism to concoct
    a poison that would be deadly even to her.
     But not yet; not while there was a chance Caeled still
    lived. She needed him to find the Arcana, but, alone in
    the dark, she could admit to herself that she cared what
    happened to him as well. She had lost so much and so
    many. The young man from Baddalaur was her last
    contact with humanity.
     With her back braced against the tree trunk the Stone
    Warrior shifted position, trying in vain to make herself
    comfortable. At least it was fairly dry among the roots of
    the immense goldwood.
     A brilliant red glow flashed somewhere deeper in the
    forest.
      Gwynne's eyes opened wide.
     The red light was joined by another, then another.
    Soon beams of blue and yellow and gold could be
    glimpsed through the trees.
      Marsh lights?
     Gwynne had heard of pockets of marsh gas igniting
    spontaneously, luring unwary travellers to their doom in
    deadly bogs.
     But these lights were too strong, too steady. And
    aside from the pool now far behind her, this was not
    marshy land, but a forest.
     Gwynne squinted, cursing silently. Her eyesight
    seemed to have grown worse since she lay down. Gazing
    toward the lights head-on, she could see little more than a
     colored blur. By turning her head, however, she found her
     peripheral vision was still clear. From the corner of her
     eye she could just glimpse distant shapes silhouetted
     against the lights ...

    




    360
    
    SILVERHAND
    
      ... shapes like buildings ...
      She heaved herself to her feet and tried to 'n'
                                      ru
      Instead she fell into a nightmare of icy water
    semiliquid mud. The storm had turned solid earth into,1
    viscous sea. She sank deeper with every step, fighting to
    pull her feet free as the mire sucked at them. Her weight
    worked against her. In places she sank to her knees,
    to her hips.
      Earlier she had contemplated ending her life' b
    faced with the possibility of drowning alone in mud s
    fought to survive. Somehow she dragged herself free
    went on, floundering, swearing, splashing, too stubbo
    give up.
      Eventually the ground grew firmer. The Stone Warriq
    clambered up a long incline and collapsed blindly at tM
    top, where she lay listening to the thud of her overtaZA
    heart.
      No wonder the cannibal creatures kept to the trej
    Only the fact that she had been sleeping press I ed againit
    huge goldwood had kept her from being swallowed uj
    before she knew what was happening. The roots of th
    great tree must absorb enough moisture to keep th
    ground in its immediate vicinity relatively solid.
      She realized why she had seen no large animals on th
    forest floor. If rain turned the earth of Teasir tA
    semiliquid, the environment was too inhospitable for th
    likes of wolves and striped bears.
      Too inhospitable for humankind as well, Gw4
    thought sourly. She could not stay where she was. WeMi
    levering her torso upward, she raised her head.
      And -found herself gazing down at a city.
      Nestledin the cup ofthe valleybelowwas avast stonecitai
                                            S
    
                                           rn
    
    containing numerous stepped layers of flat-roofed apartnei
    interspersed with clusters of bulbous domes. These don
    surmounted what appeared to be public buildings, fronting,
    paved plazas. Small domes sprouted from some of the laq
    
    ones like a form of exotic vegetation.

    




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     The city was a blaze of light. Light glowed from every
    window, while vast beams of color shone from apertures
    in the largest domes.
     Gwynne stared in astonishment.
     Even her dimming senses could detect the hum of
    activity the skirl of discordant music.
     Bending over as best she could to keep from being
    seen by any sentries, the Stone Warrior crept down the
    incline and approached the walls that curved to embrace
    the city. Only when she stood below them did she realize
    bow high they were. The flawlessly fitted stones were
    immense; the skills that shaped them had vanished with
    the Elders.
     Gwynne had been educated in her youth and received
    an additional, more practical education riding with the
    Snowscalds. She considered herself far more knowledge-
    able than many. But she had never suspected there might
    be, anywhere, an intact Elder city
      A city that was obviously inhabited!
     Following the walls around to the left, she came upon
    the middens. Huge pits were sunk in the ground, their
    contents still reeking in spite of the long slow process of
    fiquification.
     Gwynne paused to recall what she had once studied
    about the construction techniques of the Elders. Had
    they not built their cities with elaborate sewage systems
    for carr~4ng dissolved waste to the nearest river?
     The Stone Warrior was tuming away from the nearest
    pit when her foot struck something that rang like a hollow
     gourd. It rolled, rattling, out of the shadows. She stooped
  as quickly as she could to pick it up before anyone heard.
      In her hand was a human skull.
      A few shreds of flesh stiff clung to the bone.
    L Gwynne examined the skull with curiosity. It had been
     broken open deliberately: a gaping but clean-edged hole
     in the crown was too neat to be accidental. Putting the
     skuU down, she groped in the shadows and found another

    




    362
    
    SILVERHAND
    
    one. When she held it to the light it too had a precise hole
    in the top.
      Somewhere nearby were beasts with a taste for human
    flesh.
      Beasts with enough intelligence to drill holes in the top
    of the skull to extract the brain ... a prized delicacy,
    doubt.
      Stone or not, Gwynne suddenly felt queasy.

    




    CHArTERSIXTY
    
     Locks grated and the door slid back with a metallic,
    grinding sou n-d. Light blazed into the dungeon chamber.
    Then a shadow danced across the floor and wavered up
    the wall.
     Madran and Caeled moved apart, giving each other
    room to fight if necessary.
     Sioraf gathered herself into a narrow column with
    hands palm outward and claws curved.
     I am Bochar." The voice was light and unaccented, the
    voice of a youth who had not reached full manhood. He
    touched the wall beside the door. Strips in the ceiling
    flared brightly, washing the room in shadowless light.
    Sioraf hissed like a startled cat.
      I am Bochar," the newcomer repeated.
     He was beautiful: tall and long-boned, with finely
    modelled, almost feminine features, though the breadth
    of his shoulders and the line of his jaw were unmistakably
    male. Unblemished skin was several shades darker than
    his fair hair, which he wore pulled back from his face and
    knotted at the back of his neck. His clothing consisted of
    an elaborately wrapLied and folded rectangle of white
    fabric that covered torso but left his arms and legs
    
     I am Bochar," he announced a third time as he looked
    from Caeled to Madra. His eyes slid past Sioraf as if she
    were not there.
     I am Caeled. This is Madran ... and sioraP,

    




    364
    
    SILVERHAND
    
      With a smile Bochar acknowledged the two males but;
    continued to ignore their female companion. I have
    been sent to welcome you to the City," he told them.
      'A"at happened to us?" Caeled wanted to know. "One
    moment we were in the forest, then the next thing we
    knew... "
      I understand you were overcome by the noxious
    exudations of one of the dead pools to be found in the
    forest. You were lucky; if you had remained there any
    longer you would have died."
      "How did we get here?"
      "Fortunately, some of the People were passing and saw
    your plight," Bochar answered smoothly. 'They brought
    you to the City."
      'They saved us? Then why were we locked up?" Sioraf
    asked.
      As if she had not spoken, Bochar put a hand under
    Caeled's elbow and began to guide him toward the door.
    I have come to escort you to a banquet in your honor.
    We do not get many visitors in this part of the forest."
      'We were lost," Madran,intelected. "Creatures in the'
    trees were tracking us and we ran from them."
      Bochar bowed his head. 'We are familiar with those
    creatures. Their domain is the day and during daylight the
    entire forest is theirs. But at night they disappear so we
    are free to enjoy the City again." He gave Caeled's arm a
    gentle tug. "Come with me now. The celebration awaits,
    can you not hear the music?"
      The chillness of Sioraf touched Caeled's other arm, the
    one with the silver hand. "Be wary," she whispered in his
    ear. "He is not as he seems."
      "None of us are," Caeled murmured. But he toR
    Bochar, 'We shall be with you in a moment. just waitl
    outside for us, will you?-
      The youth hesitated, obviously unwilling. But he
                                              r
    
                                             ie
    
    could not refuse the request without seeming impolite,
    so he bowed and left the chamber.

    




    Morgan Llywelyn & Michael Scott
    
    S
    
    d
    it
    
    365
    
     No sooner had the door slid shut behind Bochar -
    though it had not, Caeled noted with relief, been
    locked - than Sioraf said, "He does not look at me nor
    respond to anything I say."
     "So I noticed." He glanced toward Madran. "Have you
    any idea why?"
     The big man shrugged. "I've heard of societies where
    women are considered little better than beasts. Sioraf
    may be invisible to him, according to his code. But she's
    right. Be wary." His nostrils twitched. "Something doesn't
    smell right."
     They found Bochar waiting for them in the corridor.
    The walls, floor and ceiling of the passageway were
    sheathed in Old Metal. The sheer extravagance took their
    breath away. Due to its rarity a small cube of Old Metal
    was worth a king's ransom, yet here the material was
    lavished on every surface.
     Strips of milky light ran the length of the corridor,
    though in places the lights were dead, leaving pools of
    shadow. In places too the floor was broken, revealing
    discolored pipes beneath. Elsewhere panels of metal had
    fallen off the walls to expose the rough stone.
     'This way," Bochar urged. 'The others are waiting for
    you." He set off down the passageway, beckoning them to
    follow him.
     Caeled took note of the youth's unusual way of walking.
    He moved fluidly, but with a peculiar rolling of his
    shoulders and a tendency to slide his feet rather than lift
    them. His head was thrust forward in a way that marred
    his graceful physique.
     'What is this place?" Caeled inquired as he followed
    him.
      ,The City."
      "Has it a name?"
     'The City." Bochar looked backbyswivelling his head on
    his neck without turning his body. The effect was unsettling.
      Sioraf's fingers tightened painfully on Caele&s arm.
    
    I
    
    I

    




    366
    
    is."
      Making an abrupt right hand turn, Bochar led them up
    a steep flight of metal stairs. Some of the steps were
    missing, revealing an understructure of rusting cogs and
    wheels.
      'This place is very old," Caeled observed, his voice
    echoing. 'With so much metal ... it has to be one of the
    Elder cities."
      Again Bochar turned his head at an unnatural angle.
    'This is the City. There are no other cities."
      'What about Sarafantis? Or Engless? Or Lowstone?"
      'There are no other cities," Bochar repeated irritably,
    his politeness slipping.
      "Let it be," Madran advised in a low voice.
      Caeled changed the subject. "Do the beasts in the treis
    trouble you?"
      Bochar's backward smile was chilling. "Never."
      At the top of the stairs a second person was waiting for
    them, a tall, regal woman who bore a strong resemblance
    to Bochar, although she seemed somewhat older. She was
    dressed identically. As they came up to her she turned
    without a word and walked off down another corridor.
      Her ait was identical to that of Bochar.
         9
      The youth shepherded his charges along in her wake.
      'Where are we going?" Madran asked him. d
      I told you - to the feast in your honor. You will tell us
    of your experiences in the world beyond TaesiL WVeW
    should like to hear some new stories."
      "And then?" Sioraf demanded. "After the feast,
    then?"
     J3ochar paid no attention.
      Caeled said in a firm voice, 'We want to know what
    happen after the feast."
     "After?"
     "Yes."
    
    SILVERHAND
    
    "Just the City?" Caeled persisted.
    'Why should we call it anything else? We know what i

    




    Morgan Llywelyn & Michael Scott
    
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     ,,it will be dawn."
     I know that. But what happens then?"
     'Why, we sleep, of course. The beasts come out during
    the day, so we sleep."
     A third figure stepped out of the shadows: male, older
    than Bochar, with fair hair tarnished by time. Otherwise
    his resemblance to Bochar and the woman was marked.
     He fell into step beside them without saying anything.
     'They carry no weapons," Sioraf whispered to Caeled,
    "and wear no ornaments. What sort of people are they?"
     'They don't smell like people at all, not to me," Madran
    muttered. But before be could say more, their forward
    progress was interrupted by what looked like a blank wall.
     The older man struck the wall sharply with the palm of
    his hand.
     A seam opened down the center. The two halves of the
    wall slid back with a grating noise, revealing a chamber
    beyond.
     The room was crowded with the inhabitants of the
    City~ They had been making animated conversation and
    listening to harsh, discordant sounds played on battered
    instruments by a group at the far end of the chamber, but
    the noise ceased abruptly when Bochar appeared with his
    party. Heads turned as Caeled, Madran and Sioraf were
    ushered into the room. Making a cursory count, Caeled
    estimated there must be at least two hundred people
    there ... each one looking very much like all the others.
     But it was the room that took Caeled's breath away.
    The chamber was enormous. A huge dome served as a
    ceiling, fitted with transparent glass. Had the glass been
     clean, it would have been almost invisible. But it was
     smeared and speckled with bird droppings and some of
     the panes were broken.
      The floor was scarred, red-veined marble, gritty
     underfoot. Marble walls were stained with smoke and
     streaked with mud. There was an unpleasant, musky odor
    
    caused by so many bodies crowded together.
    oil,

    




    368
    
    SILVERHAND
    
      The crowd parted. Bochar led the way through their
    ranks to a huge, horseshoe-shaped table laid out with a
    mismatched selection of plates and utensils.
      In solitary splendor, an elderly man occupied a
    high-backed chair at the head of the table, facing the
    empty space in the center. Bochar guided his guests
    through the opening opposite, so they stood within the,
    ring.
      Madran felt his hackles rising. Sioraf was even paler
    than usual.
      Caeled appeared to be relaxed, drawing deep, slow
    breaths.
      The inhabitants of the City crowded around the table
    now, saying nothing, not touching the plates or cutlery.
    just standing. Watching.
      The silence was oppressive.
      Bochar stopped before the man in the chair. With an
    air of deference he relieved Madran of his sickle and
    Sioraf of her knife and laid them on the table. "You need
    no weapons here," he murmured. Then he bowed deeply,
    folding at the waist, his every gesture submissive. When,
    he straightened he said to Caeled, 'This is Panasen, Fir,
    Citizen of the City."
    
      The young man stepped forward and nodded politely,
    but with no trace of submission. "I am Caeled Silverhand,
    and these are MY friends, Sioraf and Madran."
      The man in the chair might have been Bochar'.
    grandfather. His age was hard to assess, though i
    forehead was heavily lined and deep grooves ran from his
    nostrils to the comers of his mouth. His eyes were very
    bright, however, as he looked from one to the other.
      "An Allta and a human," the old man said. Then his lip
    curled with contempt. "And a cursed one, a vampir.
    never thought to see their like again."
      'There are not many left in the Nations," Cae
    replied. He kept his voice calm.
      Panasen said, 'There will be one less, soon."

    




    CHArTER SIXTY-ONE
    
      The gates were unlocked and ajar, the hinges rusted
    open. Timber planks were rotted and stained with fungus.
      Keeping to the shadows, Gwynne scrutinized the
    entrance to the city. What sort of people left their gates
    open like this in a forest famed for its dangers? Only those
    who were absolutely confident of their own strength. Or
    those who were totally foolish - and fools never sur-
    vived. Gwynne slowly turned to look back toward thqj
    trees. Why did the creatures in the trees not raid the city?"
      Grunting with the effort; she crouched and ran her
    hand across the earth in front of the gate. Unmarked. No
    grooves left by cart wheels, no wagon ruts ... no tracks of
    any kind. Perhaps this particular gateway was unused?
      But if so, why was it open?
      She flattened herself as best she could against the walI
    and sidled around one of the open gates until she stood
    with her back pressed to the rusted hinge. Then she took-,
    a cautious step more and peered inside.
      The streets were deserted. Spiky rollerweeds had pile~
    in the comers; rotting leaves carpeted the ground.
      Yet lights burned in almost every window. And she
    could hear voices, many voices. They seemed to,"
    coming from one of the large domes.
    Holding her morningstar at the ready, Gwynne stepp
                                            7
    through the gate. She expected at the least a chalf(I
                                           10
    from an unseen guard, but there was nothing. No do
    opened, no light poured out into the street.

    




    Morgan Llywelyn & Michael Scott
    
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     Two quick strides brought her to the nearest window.
    Rubbing her hand across the grimy glass to clear it, she
    peered inside. The interior was an empty shell, filthy and
    long abandoned. A milky light poured from a strip set into
    the ceiling.
     The next building was also empty. Its light strip was
    pulling loose from the ceiling at one end but still
    managed to cast a white glow over the forlorn interior. A
    few bits of broken furniture were the only occupants.
     The third building was almost in darkness, the bright
    milky light within having faded to a dull, faintly pulsing
    ochre.
     The Stone Warrior moved swiftly down the streets,
    checking buildings at random, occasionally climbing up
    stone steps to a higher level and finding the apartments
    abandoned there as well. Most of them were lit, however,
    with the peculiar strips of cold fire. In some places it
    burned brightly, in others it seemed to be dying, fading
    from white to a sullen yellow.
     She was not unfamiliar with deserted towns. The
    Snowscalds told weird tales about the Ghost City in the
    High Spine. Within impenetrable, glasslike walls, lights
    came on and off of their own accord and sometimes
    music and voices drifted on the wind. The Ghost City was
    one of the minor wonders of the Western Coast and had
    long been a source of income for the Scalds, who
    demanded tribute from curious visitors who wanted to
    wander around its walls and speculate on what might he
    within.
      As Gwynne continued her exploration, the voices she
     was hearing grew louder. The streets widened into
     avenues hn~d`with huge containers that had once held
     trees or ornamental shrubs. Along these avenues the
     deserted apartments still bore traces of vividly colored
     paint, flaking now like patches of dead skin.
     The buildings were increasingly large and elaborate.
     Many had door and window frames of metal, and on

    




    372
    
    SILVERHAND
    
    some, traces of engraving could be seen. Once these
    streets and avenues had been paved with what appeared
    to be one seamless sheet of a stonelike substance, but
    now the paving was cracked and fissured. Viney tendrils
    burst through these openings and crawled across the
    streets, choking them with dense, unhealthy foliage.
      Square apertures along the edges of the streets
    indicated an underground drainage system, but the metal
    grills over them were clogged with dead vegetation and
    filth.
      Gwynne rounded a comer and stopped abruptly.
    Across a broad plaza, a high-domed building blazed with
    light. A thread of spiral stairs could be seen winding
    around the outside of the dome, climbing to its top where
    some sort of platform stood. Through broken windows
    came the sound of human voices mingled with dissonant
    noise that might have been intended for music.
      Moving cautiously, Gwynne circled the building look-
    ing for a way in. The dome was set in what had once been'
    a carefully tended parkland but was now an overgrown
    tangle of bushes and vines. Paved walkways leading from
    the plaza ended in impenetrable screens of thom.
      The only entrance she found was a narrow path crudely
    hacked through the undergrowth. She was about to follow
    it when a new sound reached her ears. Above the chatte _1~
    and discordant music from inside she heard something
    primal, animalistic. Nearby, but not emanating from the
    dome.
      The Stone Warrior froze in a fighting stance.
      Was it an animal?
      But she had seen no animals since entering the city,
    Not even dog-rats or flying devils.
      The sounds she was hearing were definitely animal i
    nature, however. Leaving the dome, she set abotAN,
    tracking them to their source.            it
      Within the ruined park was a small circular structure
    walled with broken trellises. The roof had long since

    




    r
    
    Morgan Llywelyn & Michael Scott
    
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    Collapsed to be replaced by a great vine that stretched
    from one supportinq villar to another, concealing what-
                  ~ X
    ever was making the noises inside.
     Gwynne pushed the leafy screen aside and looked in.
     As she did so, she recognized the sounds.
     Her teeth flashed in a rare smile.
     Light from the dome revealed two figures lying
    coupled together, their bodies moving rhythmically. The
    sounds they made were moans and shrieks of passion, and
    for a moment Gwynne felt a surge of envy.
     On the morning before the Void took him, Silan had
    made love to her.
     There had been no one else since. Nor was there likely to
    be, thought the Stone Warrior. Not now. Not ever again.
     She was swept with sudden uncontrollable rage.
     Heedless of everything but the fury boiling through
    her, Gwynne battered her way through splintering trel-
    lises and into the ruined structure. The couple separated
    with a shout and lay staring at her.
     Light poured in through the opening Gwynne had
    torn. She could see the pair very clearly now. They were
    young, fair, beautiful, with unblemished skins flushed by
    lovern ng.
     Their faces were almost identical.
     Perhaps they were siblings. Such unions were no
    longer unheard of; the Duet themselves were reputed to
    have such a relationship.
     As they lay on the ground and stared at Gwynne the
    couple made no effort to cover their nakedness. They did
    not even seem repelled by her appearance. Their gaze
    was vacuous, uncomprehending.
     "Can you understand me?"
     The male nodded.
     I am looking for a man with a hand of silver." She held
     up her left hand and closed it into a fist. "And a big man
     Mth thick blond hair, and a pale sIdnned, brown-haired
     woman. Have you seen them?"

    




    i
    
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    SILVERHAND
    
      Suddenly the female smiled, revealing tiny white teeth
    like a row of seeds. "They were brought for the feast."
    Her voice was clear and pure.
      "Brought where?"
      "From the forest to the City."
      "Where in the City?"
      They stared at her blankly.
      She jerked her head toward the domed building. "In
    therer
      The female nodded.
      'Why?" Gwynne asked. 'Who brought them here?"
      'The Treeselves," said the woman. Her eyes
    opaque, devoid of curiosity.
      G,Nynne was frustrated by their attitude. Were they
    drunk, or drugged? 1"y?" she repeated.
      "For the Cityselves."
      'The Treeselves brought three people from the forest
    to the Cityselves?"
      Another nod.
      "And the Cityselves are holdin
      The man frowned as if s
    "Holding a feast!" he cried.- Ignoring the Stone Warrioi~
    he caught the woman's hand and pulled her to her feet.'
    He was tugging her toward the opening when Gwynne,
    stepped in front of them, blocking their way.
      They gazed at her as if surprised to find she was stifl
    there.
      "I want you to take me to my fliends," she said firmly.
      The man frowned and tried to shove past her. "We
    must go," he insisted, "or the best parts will be taken."
      The sound of voices and music emanating from the
    dome stopped suddenly.
      The male became almost frantic. "Now! We must go
    now or they will be all gone!"
      A horrible suspicion struck the Stone Warrior.
      'Who will be all gone?"
      "The three strangers," the female said. She
    
    g a feast in their honor?'
    uddenly understanding.

    




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    mcongruously. 'The fresh meat the Treeselves brought.
    One of them is young and tender. One is an AlIta, they
    say. I've never tasted Allta meat before . . .
     She licked her lips; her red, moist lips.
     Gwynne's stone hands seized their two heads and
    slammed their skulls together. She beat one against the
    other until bone shattered and pulpy brain matter
    exploded over hen Then she dropped the bodies and
    strode over them on her way out.
     She did not feel the vines; when she reached the
    banier of thorns she did not feel them either. She was
    only aware of the bitter taste in her mouth.
     Cannibals.

    




    CHArTER SIXTY-TWO
    
      Caele&s metal hand shot out, clamping around Bochar's
    slender neck. He pulled the young man back against his
    body like a shield. "I'll kill him," Caeled promised.
      He kept his eyes on Panasen but allowed his other
    senses to sweep the room, alert to the slightest reaction.
      It was Sioraf who moved first. She darted forward and
    grabbed for her knife and Madran's sickle. The old man
    moved more swiftly than Caeled would have thought
    possible. He seized the sickle before Sioraf could reach it
    and swung it toward her, hooking the front of her blouse.
    He gave a jerk and she stumbled forward. Panasen freed i~
    the blade and Swung it again, this time hooking it behind j
    the vampir's neck. The sharp blade tore her skin but there,-,,
    was no blood. He pulled, inexorably forcing Sioraf to
    clamber onto the table and then down beside him.
      "Let her go!" Caeled cried. He tightened his grip on
    Bochar's neck. In the absolute silence that gripped the~
    room
      the sound of crushing cartilage was clearly audible,
    Breath rasped in Bochar's damaged throat. He beg~n
    to thrash wildly. But Caeled continued to hold Bochar in
    spite of all the more slightly built man could do to
    himself free.
      Panasen's expression never changed. He did not even'
    look at Bochar. "I will let her go," he said coldly, "after you,
    and the Allta prostrate yourselves on the ground befor,0
    me.
      "Let her go now! Prove you are to be trusted, then

    




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         will bow down to you." Caeled was playing for time,
         aware of Madran stealthily moving around behind him.
         Perhaps together 
           Panasen said, "I do not want this vampir. Their flesh is
         foul and their blood brings madness. They are anathema
         to the Cityselves. So do not doubt my word, I shall be
         quite happy to release her. . .
           "And then cook us!" Madran barked.
           The old man's laugh was a phlegmy cough. 'We do not
         cook our meat."
           Madran was just behind Caeled now. Out of the comer
         Of his mouth he asked the Allta, "Can you reach him in
         beast form?"
           Madran growled a negative. "The change is swift but
         not that swift; he'd kill her before I could get to him."
           'Then what can we do?" the young man whispered
         urgently.
           "Surrender, fight or walk away," Madran told him. "But
    J    decide in a hurry, they're getting restless."
           Caeled risked a quick glance around. The Cityselves
         were drawing nearer; some had vaulted over the table.
         Many were armed with clubs or rocks which they must
         have brought with them, as if expecting this.
    
     ShaJ1 I make your decision tor youe" Panasen inquired
    almost pleasantly. In one lithe movement he grabbed
    Siorafs Imife from the table and tossed it to Bochar.
     Caele&s grip tightened spasmodically as Bochar
    snatched at the weapon. There was a brief but desperate
    struggle between them before the youth collapsed with a
    gurgle ... and Caeled discovered that Bochar had driven
    Siorafs knife into his own heart.
     Panasen laughed as if it were all a show being staged for his
    amusement. The Cityselves closed in. Caeled siru& out at the
    nearest man, driving his right -fist vAth A his trained skill into
    the center of the breastbone. The blow should have killed the
    man. Instead it only stunned him for a moment; he staggered,
    flAed his arms, then kept on coming.

    




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    SILVERHAND
    
      At the same time a grayv-haired woman threw herself
    onto her hands and knees and locked her teeth on
    Caele&s calf muscle. With a roar of pain, Caeled whirled
    and struck downward with his metal fist. He felt her skull
    cave in.
      The first man he had hit swung a wild blow that missed
    Caeled completely just as a young couple leaped at him in
    unison from the tabletop. He dropped to the ground and
    rolled, striking upward with fists and feet.
      His blows found their targets. Breath whooshed out of
    the pair and they collapsed together, whimpering.
      Meanwhile Madran surrendered himself to the
    change. Within moments his face became a bestial mask.
    The Cityselves drew back but he hurled himself at the
    nearest and began tearing out throats.
      Caeled vaulted across the table just as Panasen calmly
    drew the sickle blade across Sioraf's throat, opening a
    gaping wound. She shuddered; her eyes rolled up in her
    head.
      She was still in the act of falling when Caeledls metal fist
    struck at Panasen's face. ' Only the old man's extraordinary
    speed saved him. Caele&s fist punched through the back of
    his chair as Panasen dodged sideways. He tried to draw
    back his arm for another blow, only to find it caught fast.
      Suddenly Panasen was pressing the sickle against
    Caeled's own throat. "Your flesh will taste very sweet," he
    said.
    
      'Why didn't they kill us?" Caeled wondered aloud.
      I think they're saving us for something special,'
    Madran replied as together they lowered the limp body 6
    Sioraf onto the floor of their cell. Madran's forearms ~ver(
    bloody and one eye was swollen shut. His body wa
    battered, hair torn out in great clumps, bite mark
    everywhere. The big Madra Allta had savaged and bee,
    savaged.
      CWe underestimated those creatures," he told Caeled.

    




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     "Forget them for the moment," said the young man as
    he bent over the unconscious girl. 'A"at about Sioraf?"
     With tentative fingers he touched the hideous wound
    in her neck.
     'We all went for the throat ... back there . . . " Madran
    mused. But Caeled was not listening.
     "Sioraf?" he whispered. "Can you hear me?"
     There was no response.
     Madran licked the palm of his hand and held it before
    her face. "I can't feel any breath." Then he pressed his ear
    between her breasts and listened.
     'Well?" Caeled asked impatiently. He reached forward
    to put his hand where the Allta's head had just lain, but
    Madran drew him away.
     "I think her heart's still beating, Caeled, but it's better
    not to disturb her. Vampiri beal themselves."
     "Even when they're as badly wounded as she is?"
     Madran took a long second look at Siorafs tom neck.
    He realized there was not enough blood oozing from the
    wound, even for a vampir.
     He said as much to Caeled, adding, "If she doesn't get
    some sustenance soon she will die."
     "Sustenance?"
     "Blood," the Allta replied bluntly.
     Caeled felt instinctive repulsion. He had been raised
    on legends of the blood drinkers, the stealers of life, who
    crept into houses in the dead of night to drink the blood
    from newborn infants. Everyone knew that vampiri
    could infect others with their foul disease. When a varn-
    pir made a Get, they had total control over it, and when
    the Get made itself a Get, then the original vampir con-
    
    trolled both of them.
     Through such methods, it was claimed, vampiri
    sought to regain the great power they had once exerted
    in the Elder Times.
     They were not so numerous now, but still the objects
    of fear and loathing. The idea of exchanging blood with

    




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    SILVERHAND
    
    one - whether giving or receiving - made Caeled's
    stomach turn over.
      As if reading his mind, Madran told him, "No one
    would blame you for refusing. But I cannot give Sioraf my
    blood; I'm an Allta. The fluid that sustains me would be
    poison to her. Only human blood can help her." The big
    man paused. "If you do give her your blood, no one need
    ever know."
      "I would know," Caeled said grimly.
      An image flitted unbidden through his mind: Sioraf,
    dancing in a sunbeam.
      He swallowed hard and began rolling up his sleeve. His
    right sleeve. 'Will you do it for me?"
      "I've nothing to open the vein with."
      "Claw it open with your nails if you must. Do it quickly,
    before I change'my mind."
      Caeled briefly closed his eyes as the Allta tore into his
    wrist. Accepting without flinching was the most coura-
    geous act of his life.
      "Hold your arm here now," Madran commanded,
    moving Caeled'        her mouth. Warm blood
                  s arm over
    dripped between the varnpir's slightly parted lips. "Now
    above her throat. . . " Caeled's blood flowed into the open
    wound.
      Sioraf convulsed. Her mouth worked violently and she
    made sounds as if gasping for air. Her eyes opened ve
                                             ly
    wide, with the look of a terrified child.
      Then as Caeled watched incredulously, the torn flesh P'
    of her throat began to come together. Between one
    breath and the next the wound closed, leaving only a thin
    pink line to scar her pale skin. Then even that faded.
      She closed her eyes but her lips continued to work
    sucking air.
      Madran shifted Caeled's arm back to her mouth. She
    fastened on it voraciously. Caeled tried to pull away but
    Madran held him in place. "Be still now. She must feed."
      "She'll drain me drv!"

    




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     "She cannot, she's too weak. Besides, she could never
    draw all your life's blood from that one vein."
     '-fou seem to know a lot about varnpiri, Madran."
     The big man chuckled. "You pick up quite a bit of
    unusual knowledge in a lifetime spent with circuses "
    
     Siorafs deep blue eyes flickered open once more. The
    whites were stained by scores of tiny ruptured blood
    vessels. Liffiniz her hands, she -oressed Caeled's arm to her
    
    mouth and suckled it hungrily.
    
     Madran kept a close watch on how much she was
    taking. Soon he ulled Caeled's arm aw "I.Ack ur
    
    wound to stop the bleeding," he suggested.
     Caeled looked down at the vampir. She was beauti
    
    ful ... but her lins were red with his blood.
    
    He turned awav. sickened.
    
     He felt ... sullied. Yet the experience had not been
    unnleasant. T e touch of the vamnir's lins apainst his skin
    
    was curiously exciting. He knew he would think about
    
    it ... later.
    
    Cradling his right arm against his chest he asked
    
    Madran, "What do you expect will happen nowe
     "I expect I'll sleep," the Allta replied. "If you'll let me.
    And I suggest you do the same. Whatever happens   r97A
                                          we..
    
    A going to need our strength.
     "I wish I knew why they didn't kill us."
    
    I
    
    As he curled up on the floor, Madran replied, "Don't
    
    worry about it, Silverband. They will."
     Within moments be was snorinZ
    
     Unable to follow his example, Caeled leaned against
    the cell door, resting his forehead on its coolness. In a
    burst of frustration he hammered the door with his met-
    al fist. The sound boomed hollowly. To have come so
    far..
    
     ley fingers stroked his cheek. Sioraf flowed around
    him until she stood between his body and the door. She
    was as pale as ever but she had -wiped her lips clean, he
    was relieved to see

    




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    SILVERHAND
    
    When she smiled at Caeled, she was careful to ke )
    
    her teeth covered.
      "I owe you my life," she said in her feathery voice.
      "Don't thank me yet. Madran believes they're going to
    kill us any time now."
      "But we are not dead yet. You were, you said, trained in ii
    Baddalaur. The wisest men in all the Nations studied in
    Baddalaur. So were you not taught to think while you
    were there?"
      'What do you mean?" She was so close to him now"111,
    Caeled could smell the blood still on her breath. 'What I
    should I be thinking about - dying? Being torn apart and
    eaten by those ... those.... At least you don't have to
    worry about that, they won't eat you, according to
    Panasen."
      "No, they won't eat me. Those creatures retain the
    ancient fear of my kind. I suspect they mean to follow the
    old ways. They will cut me into pieces while I still live,
    then burn the pieces and pound the ashes to dust. If thq
    are very skilful they might keep me alive for days b)v
    cutting just a little bit at a time."
      Caeled reached past her and pounded the door 99
    in a frenzy. The sound echoed through the ruinje~d'
    building like a bell, solemn and sonorous.

    




    CHArTER SIXTY-THREE
    
     Kichal, Commander of the Bred, stood at the edr of
    the Forest of Taesir with his arms folded across his c est.
    When he turned his head his red eyes reflected the
    campfires of the enormous Bred army. Shadows caused
    by the leaping flames turned his face into a grotesque
    mask in which two fiery eyes blazed.
     He thought he heard a bell tolling and struined to
    hsten.
     Kichal was waiting.
     The Bred had refused to enter the ancient forest. The
    army comprised fifty companies, almost the entire Bred
    stock. They were primarily of the saurian type which the
    Breeder was now developing at a monstrously accelerated
    rate in hundreds of breeding stalls to keep up with the
    demands of the Duet, but there were also mammalian
    types which had shown particular tracking skills, creatures
    that bore a vague resemblance to bears and wolves.
     At late afternoon they had first sighted the forest. The
    trouble began immediately as a ripple of disquiet spread
    through the ranks. The saurians ceased to swarm forward,
    crushing everything in their path, and began a nervous,
    side-to-side skittexing their officers could not control. The
    mammalians halted and huddled together with others of
    their kind, darting frightened glances in the direction of
    the trees.
     Even the fine peri which Sarel had given Kichal reared
    and bucked, embarrassing him in front of his officers as

    




    384
    
    SILVERHAND
    
    he sought in vain to bring the animal under control. At
    last he had to dismount and lead it by the reins.
     At the edge of the forest, the stalled army milled
    around uncertainly. They forgot the discipline which had
    been painstakingly drilled into them. In the confusion
    scores of fights broke out, saurian tuming on mammalian
    in mindless savagery. Fifty Bredi were killed and another
    thirty so badly injured they were of no further use. Kichal
    had ordered them destroyed.
     Then he personally stalked through the ranks, usin hi
    metal-tipped flail and terrif~ing presence to
    order. Some of the Bredi snarled at him an
    challenged him with fang and claw, but in ti
    sullenly submitted.
     When they were quiet he pulled them back a distance
    from the forest. Almost immediately a dramatic change
    came over them as they reverted to their inbred
    obedience. The ranks reformed; the warriors docilely
    awaited his commands.
     As an experiment he sent his two most trusted
    scouts - one a huge sauri ' an and the other an immense
    bearlike creature - toward the forest. They advanced
    shoulder to shoulder and had reached the skirting
    undergrowth before they slowed, stopped; then turned
    on each other like total strangers venting an
    animosity.
      As Kichal watched, they tore each other apart.
      He had not repeated the experiment.
     Even now, standing as close as he dared to the e
    the forest, Kichal felt . . . strange. Uncertain. Im
    flashed through his mind, haunting images. Faces
    woman, a child, the woman lying in a street, murder in
    the child's eyes. He felt. .
     Images of a woman, old, gray-haired, an old man, and
    four others seated around a wooden table. A family at
    supper, breaking bread, drinking wine, laughing, talldrig.
    The faces were so familiar ... so familiar. Kichal felt ...

    




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      He felt the communion with Sarel.
     She flowed into his mind, flooding him with such
    overpowering sensation that he almost fell to his knees in
    worship. He could feel her creamy skin, smell the
    perfume of her flesh, hear the silken glide of her hair
    across her shoulders. His vision swam. Patterns danced
    erratically across his eyeballs. When they settled, Sarel
    was settled inside him: the ultimate communion.
     'The Bred will not enter the forest. It is almost as if
    they cannot." He said the words aloud although he knew
    Sarel could read his thoughts.
     "Show me." Her voice was rich and warm, employing
    the same tone she had used when she commanded him to
    love her.
     Kichal concentrated on the events of the afternoon: the
    disintegration of order throughout the ranks, the sponta-
    neous fights, the deaths of the two scouts.
     "In proximity to the Forest of Taesir, Bredi seem to
    revert to their animal natures," he reported. "If I should
    succeed in forcing them into the forest, we will lose them
    altogether."
     Kichal shuddered and gasped as Sarel abruptly aban-
    doned him, leaving him empty, hollow. Alone.
     Into his emptiness the faces returned. Familiar faces,
    one very like his own except it was much younger.
    Fragments of comprehension suddenly slotted together
    and for an instant - a single heartbeat - he hovered on
    the edge of understanding. Then the moment fled and
    Kichal turned away from the trees, red eyes blazing.
    
     "Nothing," Lares said finally, -sinking through the layers
    of the Aethyra to hover just above the Forest of Taesir. Its
    colors were a uniform dull yellow-green.
     Sarel flickered into her crystal shape beside him. "Look
    again, brother," she urged. 'What do you see?"
     Lares concentrated on the ancient forest, his own form
    s~ting as he looked. To the far right he eventually

    




    386
    
    SILVERHAND
    
    discovered the tiny sparks that were the Bred, with an
    occasional brighter aura surrounding one of the human
    officers.
      But to his left, there was nothing.
      Nothing.
      "No living creatures,~ he reported.
      "No birds or beasts, no humankind or Alltas, Sarel
    concluded. "Yet there must be something there. Some-
    thing extraordinary."
      "I've passed over this forest a hundred times and never,
    noticed anything unusual about it," Lares told her.
      "But The Bred refuse to go into it ... and Kichal was
    very troubled. Keep trying, help me solve the mystely."
      Lares' form shifted again as he directed his concentra-
    tion elsewhere. He was jet, he was jade; he lost substance
    altogether so that only a voice could be heard saying to his
    sister, "Look in the very heart of the forest. Do you notice
    anything peculiar?"
      Sarel joined in his intense concentration. From the
    Aethyra she was able to make out an endless expanse of
    
      g~04WONO-&
      center ... in their very center ...       matter wh
        She could not see into the center. No
      effort she made with the eyes of her Aethyral form, s
      found herself looking at an insubstantial blur.
        "I think something's blocking us," she said irritab
      'What could possibly have enough power to  H
      breath hissed. 'The Arcana!"
        Lares' form abruptly solidified. 'Tes! Of course,
      Arcanal That's why the Bredi are reverting to type.
      Arcana must be in the Forest of Taesir; its power
      negating ours." He reached for Sarel. "Come, we h
      work to do.2'
        "You have a plan?"
        'We are going to send the mightiest Void of all into
      forest, into the very heart of darkness!"

    




    CHArTFR SIXTY-fOVR
    
     Cacophony awakened them.
     Shrieks and howls rang through the dungeons, bringing
    Caeled and Madran to their feet at once. Sioraf groaned
    in a troubled sleep but did not wake. Caeled pressed an
    ear to the metal door, trying to find out what was going on
    outside. Madran stood in the center of the cell with his
    head cocked to one side and his moist brown eyes intent.
     'There are beasts out there " Caeled reDorted. "Those
    
    aren't human voices."
    
    'The creatures from the trees," Madran agreed.
    ,'Do vou think thev've attacked this Dlace?"
    
     Madran's nostrils flared. "I don't think they've attacked,
    actually - I don't hear anvone screaming, and that racket
    
    doesn't resemble war cries."
    
     "Bochar said the creatures in the trees claimed the
    forest during the day," Caeled recaUed. '-Mat must
    include this city as well. But if the ... what do they call
    themselves, the Cityselves? ... if they surrender the city
    to the creatures, where do they go until night falls again?"
     'Trobably lock themselves down here in the dungeons,"
    Madran guessed. "It's the safest place." The big Alta
    
    'cocked his head to the other side. 'The noise is fading.
    
     The last whoops died away and silence fell once more
    Overhead the milky lizrht flickered, then sputtered to
    
    glow. 'They've gone," Madran said. "Now
    
    "If it is daNNm, then the Cityselves have retired for the

    




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    SILVERHAND
    
    rest of the day. We can wait here for them to come for us
    or we can try to escape. But to do that . . . " Caeled
    tapped the door with a metal knuckle. "This door is solid;
    even my hand can't break through here."
      Madran reminded him, 'When Bochar took us to that
    domed chamber, the old man put his hand to the wall and
    something opened."
      Caeled promptly pressed the palm of his hand againsi
    the wall beside the door, but nothing happened.
      "Strange," said Madran. "It worked for Bochai
    friend."
      Caeled frowned. "I'm not sure Bochar and the othei
    know what they're doing," he told the Allta, "any moi
    than we do. I think they're imitating some ancient ritu
    they don't really understand."
      "An Elder ritual? Is this Gor, then?"
      "I have no doubt of it now," Caeled tapped the me
    door frame with his knuckles, listened, tapped aga
    "There's something here . . . -
      Madran stepped closer. "It sounds hollow."
      Caeled took one careful pace back from the door i
    planted his feet firmly. Locldng both hands into fi
    thumb atop the index finger, he drew a series of d
    breaths. Do not punch at the object, punch throug]
    beyond it, he could hear Armadiers patient voice exp]
    ing.
      Sometimes, when he realized that the Seeker an,
    the others were gone, he felt desperately alone.
      But he did not feel so alone with Madran beside
    and Sioraf sleeping nearby.
      He inhaled once more, then rammed his fists f6i
    as he exhaled.
      The strip of metal doorframe crumpled.
      He struck it again. With his third blow it broke
    and pulled loose from the wall.
      A spark crackled in the opening. Peering in,
    saw something that looked like metal worms twist

    




    Morgan Llywelyn & Michael Scott
    
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    through the wall. He started to reach in with his right
    hand and touch one when Madran caught his arm. 'Wait.
    Elder buildings have magical wards. I worked for a while
    with an Island circus whose owner lost all his eyesight
    when he tried to take apart an Elder artifact someone
    sold him. Metal worms that looked like those spat fire into
    his eyes and blinded him."
     Caeled lifted his left hand, flexing the fingers. 'This
    isn't so vulnerable," he said. Reaching into the hole, he
    wrapped his silvery index finger around one of the worms
    and pulled.
     I.Aghtning hurled him against the wall on the far side of
    the cell. Fire danced from his fingertips; smoke curled
    f
     01
    r rn his clothing.
      The air stank of old magic, scorched and metallic.
     The explosion woke Sioraf. In one swift bound she was
    crouched beside Caeled, her blue eyes wide with con-
    cern. "You must touch your hand to metal," she told him,
    "to allow the magic to drain from your body. My father
    taught me that," she added.
     Getting unsteadily to his feet, Caeled staggered to the
    door. With his silver hand he reached toward the Elder
    metal. A blue spark as vivid as Sioraf's eyes leaped from
    his fingertips to the door.
      It grated open.
     Caeled stared down at his hand. The silver was
    streaked and blackened.
     The Madra Allta bared his teeth in a smile. "Useful,
    that metal hand," he observed.
     "So I've discovered," replied Caeled. "At first I hated it.
    Every time I looked at it I was reminded of the past;
    bitter memories. Now I never think about it, it's become
    part of my body. In the last few days it's saved my life
    more than once."
     " Everything has its purpose," Madran told him. "Even
    a dog's tail." He grinned and winked one bright brown

    




    390
    
    SILVERHAND
    
      Caeled was startled to realize he had actually begun to
    like the big Allta though he had lost his hand to a similar
    weredog.
      Looking at Madran, he was tom between fear and
    fondness ... as with Sioraf.
    
      She stepped out into the metal corridor and drew a
    deep, questing breath. "I can smell blood." Sioraf
    pointed. 'This way."
      99maybe the Cityselves are holding other wounded
    prisoners," Caeled suggested.
      Madran looked dubious. I doubt if they keep prison-'
    ers alive - for long."
      They followed Sioraf down the corridor in the opposite
    direction to the one Bochar had led them. This stretch of
    passageway was in deep shadow for most of its length
    because the majority of lights in the ceiling had died.
    They passed a number of metal doors that seemed to be
    locked or rusted shut.
      But eventually they came to a section of corridor where
    one white light still burned, and a door was very slightly
    aj ar.
      Finger bones like desperate claws protruded through
    the gap.
      Caeled put an eye to the opening. He could dimly
    make out four skeletons in a small room. Three, an adult
    and two small children, were huddled together, while a
    second adult skeleton lay with its dead fingers jammed ig
    the doorwav. When Caeled touched the bones
    
    crumbled into powder.
      A thin cylinder of metal foil fell from the disintegrating
    fingers.
      Caeled's heart was thundering -as he carefully unrolled
    the foil. He had seen its like in Baddalaur: it was the kenaf
    of the ancients.
      Sioraf pressed close to his side. -~Vhat do you suppose
    happened here?"

    




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     'There is no odor of death," Madran commented.
    "Whatever it was, it happened a very long time ago."
     "Very long indeed," Caeled murmured as he began
    deciphering script from the ancient past. How Nanri
    would have thrilled to this discovery!
     As Caeled read a lump rose in his throat. 'These were
    Elders," he said, glancing back at the skeletons with a
    sense of wonder although they were human in form,
    unremarkable. But knowing who they had been invested
    them with glamor. "They were trapped in this room when
    the power went," he read slowly, stumbling over the
    archaic writing. 'The door opened just a crack, then
    locked in that position. In the days that followed no one
    came. Before they could starve to death, the man forced
    himself to strangle his wife and children. Then he died an
    agonizing death, without food or chink, accompanied only
    by the decaying bodies of those be loved."
      Caeled's eyes filled with tears.
     With one shm finger Sioraf lifted a single drop of
    moisture from his cheek. She carried it to her Bps and
    tasted it curiously. Ifty do you weep?"
      Caeled merely shook his head.
      'They are long dead, their pain is over," Sioraf told him.
     "I feel for them anyway. I can imagine what it must
    have been like for them - for him especially."
     "Ah, you are just being human," the vampir said in a
    dismissive voice. She turned abruptly and continued
    down the corridor.
     "Why is she angry with me?" Caeled asked Madran as
    they followed her.
      "She isn't angry. She's envious. Of your humanity~"
     Caeled was surprised by the Allta's insight. He was, he
    reahzed, continually expecting Madran to act like a beast.
    But he was not a beast, or not entirely.
     "Are you envious of my humanity?" Caeled wanted to
    know.
      'Not in the slightest, " was the honest reply. "I would hate to

    




    392              SILVERHAND
    
    be trapped in one frail form with just one set of senses."
     They found much fresher bodies at the end of the hall,
    in a domed room where another white light still survived.
    Metal floors and walls amplified the light to blinding.
    Caeled had to squint to be able to look at the naked man
    and woman laid side by side on a long table.
     Their youthful bodies were perfectly shaped, but their
    heads had been crushed beyond recognition.
      -Gwynne,- caeled said with con,,,iction.,This is her work,,
     Madran bent over the ruin of the woman's skull and
    sniffed. "You're right; her odor is on them. Like stone
    dust, almost. But not quite. Unmistakable, anyway.
      "Here!" cried Sioraf, following a trail of spattered bloo&-,~
    across the floor. The drops ceased at a blank wall.
     Caeled joined the vampir. He was about to tap on the
    wall when once more Madran stopped him. "Be careful
    until you know what's on the other side."
     "I do know," insisted Sioraf. "Blood. I am never
    mistaken about blood."
     Madran's nostrils quivered. "Nor I about meat. I think
    there's meat on the other side of this wall. But how do we
    get to it? This is the last room' on the corridor."
     Caeled thought back again to the previous day, and the
    old man opening a similar wall. But . . . he had not
    pressed his hand against the wall, Caeled suddenly
    recalled. He had slapped it. Sharply.
      Yes!
      Imitating the gesture, Caeled gave the blank surfadML"t
    smart slap with his right hand.
      Nothing happened. He moved down a little and tried again. if
    There was a sound of something ponderous and rusty creaking
    within the wall, then a seam opened down the middle.
      The three recoiled from the stench.
     The room beyond was an abattoir, its walls and floor
    unspeakably stained. Suppurating sacks leaked foul hq-
    uids. A torso that might have been human dangled frorn a
    hook set in the ceiling.

    




    Morgan Llywelyn & Michael Scott
    
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     Spreadeagled on a metal table were the gnawed
    remains of another body. The stomach cavity was open,
    organs and entrails missing, and the neck ended in a
    ragged stump, but from the knife buried in the chest
    Caeled recognized what had once been the beautiful
    youth known as Bochar.
     'This is where they prepare the meat for the feast,"
    Madran said. Unconsciously, the Allta drooled.
     Caeled felt his gorge rise in disgust.
     Sioraf paused beside Bochar's body and ran one index
    finger through the congealed blood pooled on the table.
    She tasted it, then spat. "Bitter! Unlike any blood I
    ever. . . " Catching the look of revulsion on Caeled's face,
    she said testily, I am what I am. Do not judge me.
    Humans have habits that are disgusting to me; I just don't
    comment on them."
     'What habits?" he asked in surprise.
     "Never mind."
     At the back of the abattoir was a narrow doorway
    leading into yet another corridor, low-ceilinged, darker,
    filthier. After a moment's hesitation, the trio entered. The
    way was littered with piles of excreta, rotting meat, and
    refuse so old it had disintegrated into a foul-smelling
    mud. Caeled pinched his nostAs shut to keep from
    smelling the fetid air. Breathing through his mouth, he
    muttered, 1"atever they are, they live like animals."
     'They live like humans," Madran retorted with icy
    scom. "Animals would be cleaner."
     They continued through a maze of corridors. The few
    remaining lights in the ceiling cast a leprous yellow glow.
    Somewhere in the distance water dripped incessantly.
     Caeled's skin had begun to prickle and bum.
     They came to a metal door halfway retreaded into the wall.
    FoIlowed by Madran, Caeled entered wx*, allowing his eyes
    a few moments to accustom themselves to the gloom.
     Then he saw a woman ... with a fur blanket twisted
    around herself'?

    




    394
    
    SILVERHAND
    
      He shook his head in disbelief He was looking at a
    dead human female lying wrapped in the arms of an
    equally dead beast.
      The creature resembled a Simpan-sai, but was bigger,
    the hair coarser, the features brutish. He formed an
    appalling contrast to the woman, who was as beautifid,~
    and delicately-featured as Bochar and his kin.
      The air was heavy with musk. Scratches and bite marld,
    scored the woman's breasts.
      At his shoulder Madran growled something and Caeled
    had a sudden image of the Allta mating with a human.
      Obscurely embarrassed, he backed out of the room.
      "So now we know," Madran said when they were in the
    corridor again. 'They've mated with the beasts in the
    trees. It's a perfect relationship; the beasts guard this
    place during the day, and the humans, as Bochar said,
    reclaim it at night. It's a partnership."
      It's disgusting, thought Caeled, but he could not say so.
    Not to Madran, who had loved his human woman.
      Sioraf, ahead of them as usual, called again and they
    hurried to join her. She stood in the doorway of a laige
    chamber where the lights still burned. "I've found
    Panasen," she announced.
      Her eyes were gleaming.
      The air in the room was thick with the cloying smell of
    sweet wine. Tossed on the pallet of straw that served as a
    bed were Siorafs knife and Madran's sickle.
      The First Citizen lay sprawled insensate across a met
    desk. He was quite drunk.
      Caeled rubbed furiously at his prickling flesh
    Madran crossed the room in two loping strides to snatch
    up the sickle and knife.                 * I
     That was when Caeled noticed the spear casualv,,
    propped against the wall in the comer.
      A slender metal shaft ended in a triangular head, its
    center ornamented with a disc of what appeared to be
    crystal, though surely crystal was too fragile to be used in

    




    Morgan Llywelyn & Michael Scott
    
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    a weapon. Hanging beside the spear was a small shield
    fashioned of greemish-gray stone studded with bosses
    incised in Elder script. The bosses were connected by a
    delicate metal tracery encircling a precisely shaped hole
    in the center.
     Caeled stared at the artifacts in amazement.
     He had never seen the Arcana before, yet he knew
    instinctively and beyond question - that he was looking
    upon two of the most powerful objects in the world.
     Yet here the), were in Panasen's chamber. And there
    was dried blood crusted on the head of the Spear.
     Suddenly Madran clamped his hands over his ears. He
    grimaced in pain. "That whine!" he cried. 'That high-
    pitched whine!"
     Caeled heard no whine, but his flesh was itching as if
    thousands of insects were crawling over the surface of his
    sIdn'
     He clawed at himself with desperate fingers. "It's the
    Arcana," he managed to gasp. 'The power of the Arcana!"
     Madran took his hands from his ears. The sound only
    he could hear made him wince. 'What did you say?"
     "I said, ifs the Arcana. I can't believe we've found them
    but here they are. The Spear and the Stone."
     Ignoring his itching, Caeled touched the shaft of the
    Spear with reverent fingers. At once a great surge of
    power flowed through him ...
      And at that moment the beasts attacked.
     Scores of hairy Treeselves burst through the doorway
    and swarmed over the trio, battering them in a frenzy.
    Caeled went down under a rain of blows, hearing Sioraf's
    scream and Madran's roar. Something hammered his
    forehead. His last thought before losing consciousness
    was to acknowledge the awful irony: he had found the
    Arcana only to lose them again. To have come so close ...
      So close ...

    




    CHArTER SIXTY-fIVE
    
     Their lovemaking built to a crescendo of tightly
    controlled passion. At the zenith of ecstasy, consciousness
    melded and fused. In that instant - that single instant -
    two truly became one.
     A pulse of incredible power thundered through the
    layers of the Aethyra, tearing holes in the fabric of time
    and space.
     A black spark ignited. In its core a cancerous red light
    blossomed ... and grew.
      In the Aethyra above the Forest of Thesir, the Void grew
    
      Her fist had been raised, about to pound through th e
    glass, when the Stone Warrior realized the bloody corpse
    being torn apart by the people within did not belong to
    Caeled. They were ripping open the belly of a more
    slightly built young man, with battered but still-beautiful
    features.
     As she stared through one of the few remaining panes
    of glass, Gwynne had watched identically beaufiK~
    blank-faced people rend one of their own.
     One of the men, older than the others, pushed his
    forward. The blood-smeared crowd parted to make way
    for him with curious cringing postures. Crouching over
    the torn corpse, the old man lifted something . the
    curved blade of a sickle briefly caught the light.
     Gwynne knew that sickle. The last time she saw it,
    Madran had been carrying it.

    




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     She leaned forward, straining to see better and cursing
    her disintegrating eyesight.
     In the chest of the corpse on the floor was a knife with
    a handle that looked suspiciously like the distinctive,
    leather-wrapped handle of Sioraf's ripple-edged knife.
     So they were here. Could they still be alive?
     As the Stone Warrior watched, the old man below used
    his sickle to slice the head from the dead body, then broke
    open the top of the skull and began to feed.
     CannibaL
     Other cannibals crowded close with gleaming, jealous
    eyes, lusting after the delicacy the old man was devouring.
     Beautiful cannibals.
     Eaters of Flesh.
     The Stone Warrior gave a grunt of revulsion.
     When Gwynne was a small child, the children's nurse
    in her parents' house had used the Eaters of Flesh as a
    threat to force her young charges to obey. The Eaters of
    Flesh, she claimed, were pirates from the Worldls Edge
    who provisioned themselves for long sea voyages with
    prisoners whom they put to work on shipboard, then
    ultimately ate.
     They particularly favored children, the nurse related.
    7enderer," was her explanation as she pinched a childish arm.
     The chfld-GAynne had often wakened screaming from
    nightmares in which corsairs climbed in through her
    bedroom window to capture and eat her.
     Once cannibalism had been virtually unknown in the
    Nations. But by the time she rode with the Snowscalds,
    there were an increasing number of stories about outlying
    villages where people turned cannibal when their live-
    stock died of unnamed diseases and their crops failed.
     There was a time when men would rather starve than
    eat their fellows, but like so many other taboos, this one
    had lost its power to terrify. The world was sinking into a
    morass of savagery where kill or be killed seemed the only
    remaining law.

    




    398
    
    SILVERHAND
    
      G,Aynne was not horrified by the eating habits of
    Madran, whom she did not consider human. As for Sioraf,
    the vampirl were a law unto themselves.
      But for humankind like herself - as she once had
    been - to turn cannibal, dismayed her as Caeled had
    been dismayed by the Madra Allta. Some things were too
    terrible.
      Caeled. His face flashed through her mind; his strong
    features, his clear dark eyes bright with intelligence. Not
    long ago she had calmly considered killing him if need be
    to gain her own ends. Now she was worried about him.
    Somehow he seemed the last remnant of something that
    had once been fine and clean, humankind as the gods
    intended them to be.
      But where was he?
      The cannibals inside must know.
      Her every instinct was to turn away and leave them to
    their repulsive feast, to push through the barrier of thorns
    embracing the dome and go as far and as fast as she could
    from this place.
      But she must stay. She mu ' st find Caeled.
      Stepping back from the window into the shadows, she
    watched the feast proceed. Men and women as beautiful
    as the others carried in great lumps of skinned meat,
    haunches and shoulders and racks of ribs, which they
    dumped unceremoniously on the table and even on the
    floor. The crowd attacked in a feeding frenzy. Some raw
    vegetables were provided, but for the most part the
    feasters dined on raw meat.
      Gwynne was thankful she could not see clearly enough I
    to tell if the bloody meat had originally come from~
    animals or humans.
      The men and women fought- over choice morsels
    cramming the food into their mouths with both hands.'
    When they had eaten their fill they openly relieved]
    themselves on the floor, then rutted enthusiastically or
    curled up and slept against the wall.     ~ i

    




    Morgan Llywelyn & Michael Scott
    
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     It had been a long time since anything had so moved
    the Stone Warrior to anger other than her own plight.
    But now she found herself trembling with rage. These
    debased creatures ... she who longed to regain her hu-
    manity was appalled at those who seemed so content to
    throw off humanity altogether and become worse than
    beasts.
     The Stone Warrior turned to look back through the
    tangled vegetation toward the small round hut where she
    had left two corpses. She had killed them without
    compunction ... like an animal. What did that make her?
    she asked herself for the first time.
    
     She had always been strong; circumstances had made
    her so. This foul affliction that covered her skin had made
    her cold and uncaring as well, but now she faced the fact
    that it was costing her the very things she prized most
    about humanity, the tenderness and love her family had
    engendered in her.
     Silan! she cried silently. My boys!
     Baby Derfyl. What infant would snuggle in her stony
    arms now?
     Resolve returned in a rush. She would become a
    woman again, she must.
     And to do that she had to find Caeled, the Arcana, the
    twins . . .
     When dawn paled the sky and the chamber abruptly
    emptied, Gwynne stepped through a broken pane and
    into the domed room. She would find Caeled, or his
    ecirpse. And she would wipe these cannibals from the
    earth before she left.
    
     She came to him as he lay wide-eyed on his pallet,
    staring up at the sky. Red streaks of light stained the east
    and were reflected in his eyes.
     Since Kichal entered the service of the Duet, he had
    never experienced the need to sleep.
     "Only the weak sleep," Sarel whispered approvingly,

    




    400
    
    SILVERHAND
    
    bending down to him. "And you are strong, so strong.
    have made you so."
      Kichal groaned with a mixture of pleasure and pain,
    agony nullified by rapture. Closing his eyes, he felt as if a
    naked human female lay the length of him, although he
    knew Sarel only visited him in her Aethyral form.
      Soft fingers seemed to touch his face, tracing the he"
    of his jaw. "Do you dream, Kichal? Do you still drearn?",
    she asked curiously.
      "Yes. No. I don't know, I don't remember. There are
    times when I see images, but I'm not sure'if these are my
    own memories or real dreams. The line between what is
    and what might be is lost."
      '-vVhen you have power," Sarel replied, "absolute
    power, there is no line. Everything is attainable. Now rise
    up, Kichal, and prepare your army. When the sun rises, a
    Void will devour the forest to clear a way for them. It wilI
    be the most powerful Void we have ever created, far
    larger than the one that destroyed Baddalaur. When the
    Void has done its work you can release the Bred. Order
    them to hunt. Any living thing they find is theirs. An
    when you have scoured this place, when it is purified,
    Lares and I will come. Prepare the way."
      "It will be done." Kichal shuddered as the woman le
    him. He opened his eyes and sat up. When he rubbed his,,"
    hand across his cheeks, he discovered that he
    weeping blood. Again.                   7;

    




    CHArTER SIXTY-SIX
    
     "Just you!" A smiling Cityself whose exquisite features
    were marred by an eye the color of alabaster, separated
    Caeled from the others using the jawbone of an enor-
    mous carnivore as a prod.
     Caeled glanced back toward Madran. and Sioraf. All
    three of them had been bound with red-veined vines
    when they were brought from their cell. They had lain
    there for a lengthy but indeterminate time, recovering
    from the battering they had received from the Treeselves.
     Now the trio were surrounded by armed Cityselves.
    Smiling with no warmth or meaning behind the expression,
    the people carried an assortment of stone, bone, and crude
    wooden weapons which they brandished from time to time.
     Ught from the interior of the dome washed over
    Caeled and his companions as they were herded through
    an opening in the thorn bushes and out into the night.
    Stars shone high above. A faint glow in the east heralded
    the false dawn.
     Caeled shouldered past the walleyed man to rejoin
    Madran and Sioraf, then fixed his unblinking gaze on the
    crowd surrounding them. The Cityselves were curiously
    unable to meet his eyes for long. They fell back a few
    paces, giving him space in which to say his good-byes.
     "Now it ends," Caeled told his companions. His voice
    was low with regret.
     Madran bared his teeth. "Not yet it doesn't. We're still
    breathing."

    




    SILV~_RHAND
    
      "You could escape," Caeled told the Madra Allta. "You
    could were-change and make a run for it. They might be
    so startled you could break through their circle and get
    out of this place."
     The big man shook his head. "No."
     "My not? Don't you want to live?"
      "Of course I want to live. But it isn't in me to leave
    those I . . . " Madran's jaws snapped shut.
      He pressed close to Caele&s shoulder until shaggy pale
    mane mingled with coarse black locks. "I won't go yet," he
    said. "I imagine it will only be you and Panasen atop the
    dome. If Sioraf and I can distract them, it might give you
    a chance."
      "But you are two, and they are many," Caeled
    protested.
     "I am a Madra Allta. . .
      "And I am vampir," Sioraf whispered. She reste('L her
    head on Caele&s other shoulder. "Give me some of your
    blood, give me some of your strength, and I will show
    them the power of the vampir."
      without hesitation, Caeled exposed his neck to her
    fangs. -rake it.,,
      Madran used his bulk to shield them from the eyes of
    the Cityselves. "Hurry," he urged, "before they get too
    
    suspicious."
      The vampir's bite was a feather touch, cool but
    sensuous. It sent an erotic tingling through Caele&s body.
    He felt a powerful sexual arousal as her pointed tongue
    began to lap with the greatest delicacy at the tiny wound
    she had opened in his neck. She was cold but he was
    warm; he was hot; he was vibrantly alive even though
    blood was seeping from him. Exhilaration ran through his.
    veins like tiny bubbles. He was swept with a heady sense
    of invulnerability.
      He wanted to laugh out loud.
      Sioraf withdrew her mouth from his neck. Then before
    he could respond, she kissed him on the mouth.

    




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    403
    
     The taste of his own blood was salty and metallic on
    her lips but the breath she breathed into his nostrils was,
    briefly, warm.
     "Enough wasting time! The First Citizen is waiting
    above." The man with the jawbone strode forward. His
    eyes roamed over Caeled's body appraisingly. "Lot of
    meat on you," he commented. "Go. The stairs are that
    way." They pushed through dense shrubbery.
     The metal stairway spiralled around the outside of the
    huge dome. Although the steps and rails seemed solid
    enough, the brackets affudng thern to the structure had
    rusted so the stairway creaked with every step.
     Caeled lifted his head and looked up. The stars were
    beginning to fade. Already the purple of the sky was
    
    giving way to violet.
     Would he live long enough, he wondered, to greet
    
    Nusas one last time?
    
     As a student in Baddalaur - could that have been only
    a few days ago? - one of his greatest pleasures had been
    to stand in the doorwav of his cell and watch the sun rise
    
    over the m of the extinct volcano.
    
     The jawbone prodded his spine. Caeled swayed. He
    had been too long without food. Madran bad eaten a
    dog-rat, and Sioraf had taken strength from his blood, but
    Caeled himself had nothinjz to sustain him but his own
    
    win.
    
    "Hurry. Soon it will be dawn."
    
     When Caeled paused to glance over his shoulder he
    was surprised to discover how high they had climbed.
    "I'm in no rush," he told his guard.
     "Soon it will be dawn," the white-eyed man repeated in
    a tense voice.
     'What happens then?"
     'Then the Treeselves come," the guard replied. "If we
    have not fed before they arrive, they will eat you
    themselves."He jabbed Caeled again with his prod.
    
    a

    




    404
    
    SILVERHAND
    
      "I'd hate to deprive you of your meal," the young man
    responded sarcastically. He resumed climbing.
      As he followed the spiral stairs around the great dome
    he was surreptitiously testing his bonds. Before the vines
    were twisted around his body he had drawn in a huge
    breath and held it, so that when he expelled all the air in
    his lungs his bindings would be loose. His wrists had been
    tightly lashed together, with particular attention paid to
    his metal hand, but the fingernail on his metal thumb had
    by now almost severed the vine twisted around his ri t
    hand. , gh
      "Hurry!" the Cityself urged, prodding him again.
      Caeled looked to the east. Most of the stars had
    vanished, only the brightest remained. Then while he was
    watching they suddenly shimmered as if a gauze veil had
    been drawn across them.
      He was almost at the top of the dome now. When he
    looked down he could make out something of the original
    outline of the city. Once it must have been very beautiful.
    An array of interlocking circles were joined by swirling
    spirals. There was something hauntingly familiar about
    the design ...
      Caeled stopped so abruptly the jawbone dug into his
    spine.
      The city of Gor had been laid out in the same pattern
    that once covered the floor of the Central Courtyard mi
    Baddalaur.
      Although most of the pattern was now obscured by vines
    and thorn bushes, or marred with collapsed buildings and
    broken paving, there was no mistake. As he gazed down in
    wonder, Caeled recalled how he used to feel when he stood
    on the volcano's rim and gazed down at the pattern in the
    courtyard far below; the sense that he could fall into the
    spiral and continue falling, on and on forever.
      In ancient folklore the spiral meant eternity.
      Caeled stepped onto the small circular platform
    the dome and prepared to meet his death.

    




    Morgan Llywelyn & Michael Scott
    
    405
    
     Life flowed out of the Aethyra. The pulsing spark grew,
    drawing energy from the Realms. Formed from the
    intense, cojoined sexual energy of the- Duet, it was now
    feeding on the life force that sustained the Aethyra,
    altering it, turning life into the antithesis of life, a deadly
    spiral of death and annihilation.
     The Void grew, spinning down through the violated
    layers of the Aethyra.
    
     Panasen touched Caeled's throat with the tip of the
    triangular Spearhead. '-fou should be honored," he said.
    "Only the best are brought here." Around his neck,
    Caeled observed, the Stone hung like a shield from
    leather cords. The strengthening light revealed tiny
    colored beads amid its engraved bosses and wire tracery.
     Caeled tried to back away from the point of the Spear.
    But the circular platform was less than one long pace
    across, and featureless save for a metal spike jutting from
    its center.
     "Your death will be painless," Panasen promised as he
    glanced toward the east in anticipation. '-vVhen the sun rises, in
    that moment before the Cityselves retire and the Treeselves
    arrive, I will kill you and make a feast of your soft brains." His
    mouth gaped in a parody of a smile that displayed toothless
    gums. I can show you no greater honor."
     "But I am not honored," Caeled yelled at him. He did
    not know he could be heard below, but if Madran and
    Sioraf were going to try something, they had better do it
    now. '"Where is the honor," he shouted, "in being killed
    and eaten like an animal, by an animal!"
     Panasen's grip tightened on the Spear. "I'll overlook
    your ignorance because you do not know us. You do not
    know our history. Ours is a great race. We can trace our
    lineage to the ancients, we are of Elder blood."
    . Caeled spat. "You he. The Elders were a proud and
    noble people."

    




    406
    
    SILVERHAND
    
      Panasen replied, IvVhen the gods moved upon the face
    of the earth, and there was light and the world ended, the
    City was one of the few places that survived. Beneath its
    domes in chambers of metal and stone our forefathers
    listened to the gods bellow above them. Only the Artifacts
    kept them safe from the gods' rage." He lifted the Spew
    slightly and with his other hand touched the Stone on his
    chest. 7he Shaft and the Badge worked their magic. Our
    race survived."
      '76 become cannibals. Abominations."
      'We survived!" Panasen cried. "Our ancestors ate
    whatever they had to in order to survive! And we live
    because of their courage; we carry on the glorious
    traditions of our forefathers."
      The shining face of Nusas peered over the Rim of the
    World.
      The Spear and Stone came to glittering, blazing life.
      And Panasen lunged.
    
    Jn

    




    I
    
    CHArTER SIXTY-SEVEIN
    
     Madran changed. In the instant before the first beam
    of sunlight lanced the sky, his form altered. Muscles
    rippled into new configurations, sinews knotted, bones
    ground together. The planes and angles of his face altered
    to reveal the wolfhound within.
    
     As his body changed, his bonds fell away from the n
    shape.
    
    It took a sinprle heartbeat
    
     The Madra. Allta threw back his head and howled.
     Before the transfon-nation was complete, however,
    Madran froze the process so he was part man and part
    beast, combining the strengths of both. Canine claws
    slashed at the nearest Cityself, tearing his shoulder. A
    man's fist crashed into another and sent him reeling
    backward to be impaled upon the wall of thorns.
     Another of the Cityselves rushed to the attack only to
    have Sioraf appear before him. She too was transformed,
    her beauty lost in a terrifying visage. The skin of her face
    pulled taut, revealing the skull beneath. A lifted hp bared
    vampiric fangs. Her red and pointed tongue thrust
    forward, hideously suggestive. The Cityself hesitated,
    appalled. Sioraf attacked with long-nailed hands hooked
    into claws and tore through his chest as if it were butter,
    
    pulling out the beating heart.
     Instead of running away at the sight, however, the
    other Cityselves closed in ... and began to change.

    




    408
    
    SILVERHAND
    
      Desperation lending him strength, Caeled burst his
    weakened bonds. Cycles of training in Baddalaur came
    into play as he tilted his body and allowed the head of the
    Spear to slide harmlessly past his chest. Throwing* himself
    down, he lashed out with his feet and kicked Panasen's
    legs from under him. The First Citizen fell with a crash
    onto the metal platform.
    
      The Spear rolled out of his hands.
      Caeled twisted to one side as the walleyed Cityself,
    with the jawbone still in his hands, lunged for him .
    then stopped in midstride as sunlight touched his face.
      The Cityself changed.
      His features sagged and softened into a new shape.
    Brow jutted; mouth widened; nose flattened. Coarse hair
    sprouted.
      Cityself became Treeself.
      With a howl the brute threw itself on Caeled. Long
    arms wrapped around him with inhuman strength as
    savage teeth snapped close to his face. The sickening
    breath of a carnivore washed over him.
      Caeled managed to thrust his metal hand into the
    creature's gaping mouth. He- closed his fingers on its
    lower jaw while he braced his other hand against its
    breastbone. Then with all the strength he possessed, he
    twisted.
    
      The jaw was torn from the Treeself. The brute's scream
    shrilled beyond human hearing. Caeled allowed it to
    stagger blindly away and tumble over the edge of the
    platform.
      Before the body hit the ground far below, Caeled ww,-,',]
    reaching for the Spear. Panasen got to it first.
      Then Panasen ... changed.
    
      With the coming of day, the Cityselves became
    Treeselves. Hundreds of large apes crowded in on the
    vampir and the Madra Allta. Madran was swift and savage, a
    human brain calculating every bestial movement, but a

    




    back
    
    Morgan Llywelyn & Michael Scott
    
    409
    
    blow that would have eviscerated a man only ripped
    
    through the flesh of his enemies' muscular bellipq
    
     Revitalized by Caele&s blood, Sioraf was fighting with
    equal speed and skill if not strength. But the pair were
    
    hopelessly outnumbered
    
     Blows rained down on them from all sides. The
    Treeselves seized stones, branches, whatever came to
    hand that could be used to club and destroy. Werebeast
    and vampir were harder to injure than humankind, but it
    was obvious that even their abilities would not be enough
    
    to save them for lonL7.
    
     As she stumbled back, Sioraf cast a last despairing
    glance upward, hoping to see Caeled atop the dome.
     Then a figure battered its way through the thorns to
    
    join the fight.
    
     Gwynne lifted her morningstar in both hands, laughing
    at the blows that thudded harmlessly off her stony hide.
    Then, screaming the battle cry of the Snowscalds she
    hurled herself into the midst of the Treeselves
    
    Panasen lunexed forward with the Snear- driving Caeled
    
     'Which is the beast form, human? This or the
    Cityselves?" Coming from his Treeself body, Panasens
    voice was a shrill screech. "Once we were human, but we
    became greater than mere man. We became the Gor
    
    Aflta. Ape and human, cleverest of all the werebeasts.
     Caeled danced lightly to his left. He was trying to
    maneuver Panasen around to face the sun. "Legend has it
    that the Arcana changed you," he said. "Generation after
    generation the power of the Arcana worked on you,
    turning you into monsters. Now vou live in filth no animal
    
    would tolerate in the ruins of former Plorv."
    
     With a roar of fury Panasen leaped forward. Caeled
    brushed the head of the,Spear aside with his metal hand.
    At the moment of contact a spark jumped from his fingers
    to the Spearhead, causinf4 a shock to run along his arm.

    




    410
    
    SILVERHAND
    
     The head of the Spear began to pulse with a rhythmic
    glow.
     The Gor Allta that had been Panasen swung the Spear
    in a broad are. Caeled dropped to one knee, punching his
    silver fist into Panasen's belly. But the Gor AlIta's
    muscular body absorbed the blow.
      Panasen staggered but did not drop the Spear.
     Driven to the very edge of the platform, he blinked
    into the rising sun, uttered a despairing cry and hurled
    the Spear at Caeled.
     Nusas blinded him so that he missed. Caeled's metal
    hand closed on the shaft in midair, catching and holding.
      He reversed the Spear in one smooth motion and'
    drove the head deep into one of the Gor Allta~s eyes,
    passing into the brain behind. There was not even time,"I
    for a cry of pain.
     The body tumbled sideways and fell. Caeled was stin
    clutching the Spear, but the Stone hung from its leather
    thongs around the dead neck.
     Panasen's body slid over the edge of the platform; then~
    the angle of incline sent it tumbling down.
      Caeled made a grab for it, but too late.
      He could only watch helplessly as the dead Gor Alta
    went slithering down the glassy curve of the dome,
    painting the surface with its blood. As C ' aeled started to
    run down the stairs, a flicker of movement at the comer
    of his vision arrested his attention.
      He turned and looked up.
      Nusas no longer claimed the sky.
     Overhead the air was rippling visibly around a circular
    black cloud. The cloud was spinning and falling, growing,
    larger with every moment. And the sour~A it 'was
    making ...
      ... the sound ...
      ... was terrifying familiar.
      Ward Point.
      Baddalaur.
    
    I

    




    Morgan Llywelyn & Michael Scott
    
    The White Scream, the voice of the Void.
    
    411
    
     Panasen's body struck the ground directly in front of
    Sioraf, spattering her with gore. As she jumped back,
    startled, a female Treeself attacked her. She fought off the
    female, feeling her strength ebb as she did so. She was
    wounded; she was losing precious blood.
     Sioraf turned back to the body of Panasen.
     She recognized the round stone shield, now throbbing
    with fiery pinpoints of light. In spite of her desperate
    situation, Sioraf smiled with satisfaction at the death of
    the First Citizen of Gor.
     When she stooped to touch the body her fingertips
    brushed the shield.
     At the moment of contact between her fingers and the
    Stone, Siorafs body convulsed. The vampiric cast was
    stripped from her features, leaving a young and beautiful
    woman.
     Her eyes rolled back in her head and she fell
    unconscious across Panasen's body.
     With a yowl of triumph a Treeself leapt onto her still
    form, but GAynne's morningstar promptly crushed life
    from the creature.
    
     The Void descended, growing, sucking life out of the
    atmosphere. Trees and bushes withered beneath its
    shadow. As it drew closer to the forest it began to uproot
    the trees and pull them into its vortex. Ancient goldwoods
    groaned in their dying. Parasitic veins ruptured to leak a
    enmson ichor.
    
    At the edge of the Forest of Taesir, Kichal released the
    
        Stone Warrior was drenched with blood, almost
    unrecognizable. Madran's fur was clotted with gore. But
    when Caeled reached the foot of the stairs and saw them,

    




    --111111111~
    
    412
    
    SILVERHAND
    
    he thought they had never looked better.
      He had no time to greet them, however. A Treeself
    bounded toward him. With a smooth turn of his wrist he
    impaled the creature on the point of the Spear, then saw
    its crystal ornamentation blaze even more brightly.
      Caeled shouted at Gwynne, 'There's a Void co
                                        nung.
      The Stone Warrior flung one hand to her mouth.
    'We have to get out of here!" she cried. Mention of the
    Void stripped her of courage.
      Madran stooped to lift the unconscious Sioraf from
    Panasen's corpse, and as he did so, Caeled reached
    forward with the Spear to prod the Stone free of the
    ruined body. He accidentally thrust the Spearhead mito
    the hole in the center of the Stone. When he raised the
     S  th Stone slid down the shaft            and locked into
    pFear . e
     ace with an audible click.
      The fireball that engulfed Caeled lasted less than a
    heartbeat, but it sent the surviving Treeselves screaming
    away.
      When Madran and Gwynne could see again, they
    discovered to their amazement that Caeled was
    undestroyed. But different. -
      He still held the Spear in his left fist. Blue snakes of
    light ran hissing along the shaft from the Spearhead to
    wrap around his silver hand.
      The face belonged to Caeled, but the posture had
    changed. He seemed taller, broader. The look in his eyes
    was that of someone gazing into far distances.
      When his gaze swung around to Gxynne and Mddran,
    however, his expression was very gentle.
      He spread his arms. "Come to me."
      The Void descended.

    




    CHArTER SIXTY-EIGHT
    
     The Void had devoured the ancient forest, creati
    swath of utter devastation in which ragged stump
    ancient trees jutted up from a soupy mire, soil
    stripped down to bedrock, stone was ground to pov
    Then, unsated, it swirled over the outskirts of the
    scouring the ancient walls of Gor. They ran like liquid
    flowed upward into the Void in long glutinuous stran
     Whirling on, the Void swept up the few sm-Aving Gor
    warping them through theirdual selves -human andbea
    before absorbing them into its core, where their
    screams gave way to an even more terrible silence.
     Then it touched the dome.
     The remaining glass exploded into slivers, but be
    the slivers reached the ground they turned to liquid,
    to sand.
     The Void moved on while what remained of the d
    collapsed inward, its metal skeleton crumbling into
    brown flakes.
     As he held the Spear aloft in his left hand, Caeled
    a barrier of cool blue light around himself and
    companions. Gwynne and Madran huddled close to
    with Sioraf in the Allta's arms.
     The Void rolled over them.
     The world became silent terrible
    
          In the heart of the Void there was nothing the five
    it senses could identify, neither darkness nor light, heat nor
    cold. No sound, no sensation.

    




    414
    
    SILVERHAND
    
      Yet the Void was not empty, It was brimming with a
    stupifying emotional desolation.
      Madran screamed but there was no sound. Gwynne
    shut her eyes, then opened them again only to discover
    that it made no difference.
      Blue light flared around them, suddenly visible,
    encircling them in an azure bubble.
      Within the bubble, Caeled laughed.
      He laughed as he might have done when he was a boy,
    playing at heroic games where he always won. Where
    triumph was sure and sweet. He laughed as if there was
    nothing in the world to fear.
      The first moment he touched the Spear he had felt
    intimations of its power. Wondrous possibilities had
    shimmered at the edge of his consciousness, fragments of
    knowledge, incomplete mosiacs, unfinished friezes. Then,
    when the Stone had locked in place on the shaft of the
    Spear, he felt his mind expand to encompass endless
    vistas, and for an instant - a single instant - he had
    almost known everything.
      Pain blossomed in his head. He felt as if his skull were
    being ripped apart. But suddenly he knew what he had to
    do. The necessary fragments of wisdom came together in
    his brain. Yet even as he was assimilating their message,
    the rest of his newfound knowledge was fading away like
    the remnants of a dream.
      He had no time to mourn the loss, he must destroy the
    destroyer!
      With the knowledge he retained, creating a shield of
    power was simplicity itself.
      So was destroying the Void.
      Caeled sent his questing consciousness into the core of
    emptiness, where the fire of lust that gave birth to the
    Void still burned. He traced its glow back along a pathway
    of passion ...
      And suddenly he was a small boy again, bursting
    uninvited into his mother's bedchamber, gazing with

    




    Morgan Llywelyn & Michael Scott
    
    shocked eves at a scene he could not understand.
    
    415
    
     But that was another place, another time. He was not
    seeing his mother and one of her lovers writhing upon the
    bed now - he was looking at Sarel and Lares, the dark
    heart of the Void.
     His left hand reached out and a bolt of blue fire
    sparked from his fingertips to lash across the woman's
    naked back, blistering her pale skin. She leaped off the
    man with a shriek of agony, whirled around; saw Caeled.
     "Silverhand!" Sarel screamed.
     Caeled struck at the twins again. Blue lightriing sizzled
    through the air to Lares, knocking him from the bed. He
    fell with a crash to the stone flags, all his weight landing
    on one bent knee and shattering the kneecap. A moment
    later his temple struck the corner of e bedstead,
    knocking him unconscious.
     The sudden sundering of the Duet broke their
    connection with the Void.
     Without a center it rapidly lost cohesion. A ravening
    tentacle whirled off on its own to feed upon the nearest
    life f s -which hap -ened to be the army of the Bred,
    - p
         9 across the ground the Void had so recently
    swept clean.
     In the instant before they were swallowed up, the
    disciplined troops turned into savage beasts. They had no
    dme to attack each other, the White Scream rang through
    their heads and they were no more.
     But the Void had taken its final victims. Spinning out of
    control, it began to collapse.
     An explosion of warped light bathed the Aethyra in
    acid fire. The atmosphere roiled with turbulence; thun-
    der boomed in the distance.
     The White Scream faded to a sigh as the great Void
    dissipated. In its wake only a fresh, clean wind blew across
    the land.
    Slowly, Sarel crawled from the bed to crouch over her
        nscious brother. Her skin was scored with blisters

    




    416
    
    SILVERHAND
    
    and the long weal of burnt flesh on her back would leave a
    terrible scar, but she felt none of this, all her suffering was
    for Lares. She had not imagined anything could injure
    him. Everything else was forgotten as she pressed her
    mouth to his and poured her breath into him.
      When she felt him stir at last, she raised her head, only
    to find herself confronting the shadomy form of a tall
    young man wreathed in blue fire; a young man whose
    grave eyes studied her as if reading the secrets of her soul.
      They stared at each other for a timeless moment in
    which the only sound either heard was the clean wind
    blowing.
      'We will meet again," she swore, gasping, "and next
    time I will kill you, Silverhand!"
      'We will meet again," Caeled promised grimly.

    




    EPILOGUI
    
     A riddle, is it not?
     Out of the ashes of the Forest of Taesir, a new forest
    growing. I saw the first green shoots pushing through the
    gray ash as we walked away.
     The City of Gor is gone, and in its place a lake now
    
    shimmers. A lovely lake of green glass.
     The Gor Allta are no more, and the Bred were almos
    
    totally destroyed by the Void the Duet made.
     A paradox. Out of evil, good can come.
    
     I have taken the first steps upon the road of my destiny.
    When exactly did I start out on this road? When we
    destroyed the Gor? Or was it when I met my companions
    whose help has brought me this far? Did my journey
    begin with the destruction of Baddalaur, or even earlier,
    on that terrible dqv in Ward Point when mv childhood
    
    ended? And my life began again.
    
     This much I know: my destiny is to restore order to
    this chaotic world. My teachers taught me that there
    must be order the survival of humankind denends
    
      owe it to my teachers, to Nanri and Armadiel and
    the others, to carry out their precepts. I must find the
    remaining two Arcana, destroy the Duet and make the
    world as it should be. This is my destiny ... and I have
    
    learned now that a man cannot escaDe his destinv.
    
     The Spear and the Stone have gifted me with
    knowledge and partial understanding. And if but two o
    the Arcana can do this what then will the Sword and
    
    the Cup make of me?
     Once I have the four together - will I still be a man?
    
    -from the Journal of Caeled Silverhann

    




       -7;-Z~ - -

       


    I
    
    i -A,"t

    





    





    





    





    




       I

       


    ABOUT THE AUTHORS
    
     MORGM
    LLYWELYN
    
     MORGAN LLYWELYN is the New York Times
    bestselling author of Lionof1reland, RedBranch,
    Bard, and eight other bestselling historical fanta-
    sies retelling the legends of Ireland. Among her
    many awards and honors are the Poetry in Prose
    Award for Bard, given by the University of Santi-
    ago in Spain and a place on the Review Celtique
    recommended reading list for Druids. Morgan
    Llywelyn and Michael Scott have been close
    friends for over a decade.
    
                                      NICIML
                                      SCOTT
    
     MICHAEL SCOTT is both an author of popular
    novels and an authority on the Celtic language
    and myths. His popular fiction includes a fantasy
    series based on Irish legend, Tales of the Bard,
    and adult horror novels based on Irish legend.
    Recently, he has published a series of bestselling
    historical novels under the pseudonym 'Anna
    Dillon." He is also the author of three definitive
    collections of Irish folklore, Irish Folk and Fairy
    Tales, Irish Myths and Legends and Irish Ghosts
    and Hauntings.
    
                           Illustration by Gary Ruddell
                           Cover design by Carol Russo
    
    FANTASY
    
                                   A BAEN BOOK
                         Distributed by Simon & Schuster
                           1230 Avenue of the Americas
                                New York, NY 10020
                                     
    
    




    3 2300 00329080 2
    
    PRAISE FOR MORGAN LLYWELYN
    
    LION Of IRELAND: "Mary Stewart has a worthy rival."- Baltimore Sun "A
    royal read..." -Washington Sun "One of my all-time favorite authors."
                                          -I ude Devereaux
    
    BARD:'A wonderful book."- Washington Post "Morgan Llywelyn has made Bard
    ring with Celtic spirit. Engrossing."            - Los Angeles Times
    
    RED BRANCH: "Powerful ... a lusty, poetic and legendary world...."- The New York
    Times Book Review "...completely absorbs you, making it a physical effort to put
    t e oo~ down and mentally wrestle yourself back to reality."- San Diego Union
    "High-colored and myth-soaked and allegorical ... In Red Branch, Ms. Llywelyn mas -
    terfully brings both sides of the Celtic coin to life."- The Baltimore Sun "Oneofthe
    most powerful stories I have everread .... triumphant .... The result is a total captivation
    of the reader into a landscape that is vivid, vital and victorious even in tragedy .....
                                          -Anne McCaffrey
    
    DRUIDS: "One of the finest historical novels of the decade..." -New Hampshire
     un  News'A riveting drama played against the unshakable progress of
    history..."                       - Birmingham News
    
    PRAISE FOR MICHAEL SCOTT
    
    FIRELORD: "Scott is the King of Fantasy in these isles."
    
    - Irish Times
    
    OCTOBER MOON. 'A compelling story. Scott is a master of the naturally unfolding
    mystery, and the tension never lets up."
    
    GAME: "Michael Scott deserves laurel wreaths.
    
    -Orson Scott Card, F&SF
    
    - Books Ireland
    
    ISBN 0-671-876
    