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CHAPTER 13

      AT DUSK they entered a densely wooded area.

      "Where did these trees come from," Zex wondered. "We should be in open country now."

      To the others he growled, "Stay together."

      Steel only shrugged, but Hasty caught the unease in the Berach's voice, and he crowded closer to Hearth and Ember. Even Ware, who had grown up in the pine forests of the north, had an odd sense of foreboding.

      For a few minutes they tramped forward through intense darkness. Then Zex took a sudden, stumbling step forward and they were in the middle of a clearing. Ware, who was right behind him, could look over the Berach's shoulder, and see a bright campfire burning. A solitary man was seated beside it.

      The man looked up. "Good evening travelers."

      "And a good one to you," Zex answered gruffly. "We never saw your fire through the trees."

      "You travel late."

      "We do," Zex answered. "I notice that you're alone. Have you no companions? Honest men seek company these days."

      "So do false ones," the stranger returned blandly. "And it's sometimes hard to tell one from the other."

      Zex frowned. "Can you tell us how far it is to the nearest town?"

      "No, I don't stop in towns. The inns there are full of soldiers, and I avoid armed men whenever I can."

      "No harm in that," said Steel, coming from behind Zex and into the firelight.

      The stranger looked up and gave her a smile that lighted his thin face. "Why not stop here tonight? I judge that you've traveled far. And your friend is right when he says there's safety in numbers."

      Steel went over to the fire and began warming her hands. "We'd be glad to."

      "Wait a bit," Zex growled in her ear, "We don't know anything about this fellow."

      The man must have had keen hearing, for he said quickly, "You've no cause to fear me. Indeed, I'll even serve you if I can. What do you seek: Knowledge? Magical charms? A potion to inspire love? Spells to ward off danger?"

      Zex frowned. "Are you a conjurer, then?"

      "Indeed I am. A mountebank, a charlatan, a wizard, a magician," the stranger answered in a soft, mocking tone, "With a dragon up every sleeve."

      As if offering to prove his skill, he got up, threw back his cloak, and came lightly around the fire to where Ware was standing with Hasty and Ember. "Young men: shall I ensorcel a sweetheart for you — it's my specialty. Charm up three pretty girls for the price of two?"

      He turned to Hearth with a fine court bow. "Or perhaps you'd like me to foretell the future? That's easy; since you don't know it yet, my guesses are as good as yours. And if you pay me well enough, I'll undertake the difficult work of altering the past."

      "Hard to change the past. You'd need an army of magic-makers," Hearth answered, her eyes amused.

      "One clever head is better than an army." The stranger's thin face creased all over, and he offered Hearth his hand. "Come, I invite you again to join me. I'm lonely tonight, and I'd be grateful for your company."

      Hearth returned his smile, and accepting his gloved hand she seated herself beside him.

      As they dropped their packs and sat down to toast their cold feet, Ware stared curiously at their host. The stranger was not as prosperous as he seemed. The fingertips of his fine gloves had all been darned, and although his boots were polished to a high shine, the soles were patched and scarred. Those boots had walked long miles, and they were not made for such wear.

      Moreover, although the magician moved like a young man, it was only his thinness and briskness that fooled the eyes. At close range, his face was crossed with a thousand fine lines, and there was wariness behind his knowing smile. "You're come far?" he said to Steel.

      "We have," she nodded, "But I think we're not as far from home as you are."

      "Me? My home is everywhere. And nowhere."

      She grinned. "Perhaps. But I'd take you for a desert man. You're from Ezzeen, aren't you?"

      "A Snake?" Zex cried, and they all stopped talking and stared, for an Avianni might live out a lifetime without ever meeting one of the reclusive Serpent People.

      The magician looked thoughtful. "Ezzeen? What makes you think that, young . . . person?" And although his voice was as gentle as ever, it seemed to Ware that something about him grew harder.

      Steel, however, noticed no change, and she answered fearlessly, "I saw one of your countrymen a few weeks ago, and your way of speaking is like his. Your looks are much the same, too."

      "Whom did you see?" The Ezzeman's eyes reflected the fire like candles, and he made a odd, quelling motion with his hand toward Ware and the others, as if to silence them.

      It might have been mere weariness, or the warmth of the fire, but as soon as the stranger made that silencing gesture, Ware felt a deep lassitude creep over him. His alertness lessened, and he no longer had any desire to speak or to interfere with what went on. He was content to watch and listen.

      "His name was Adov," Steel answered. "From the clan Erim-Ess. The grandson, he said, of the Speaker of the Serpent's Council. He'd come for a private meeting with the — the . . ."

      She shrugged without finishing her sentence, unwilling to name as king the man she always referred to as the Usurper. "It was at a royal audience," she finished shortly.

      The magician's face softened. "Adov of Erim-Ess? I knew him long ago . . . in another lifetime, almost. What is he like now?"

      "Thin and dark, with a noble, arrogant look about him. Angry, but not blustering. He had on a robe of reddish cloth, shot through with gold threads. On his forehead he had a circlet of gold, and on his hand a great topaz ring inlaid with a golden Serpent."

      "The seal Erim-Ess, his father's house," the Ezzeman murmured. ". . . And you said the grandfather is First Speaker now? Ahhh. He always wanted that."

      Then he roused himself and said briskly, "Go on."

      "They met in the throne room. It must have been about dusk, because beyond their voices I had could hear the changing of the guard outside the walls."

      Seeing her profile between the firelight and the darkness, Ware thought, "Oh, Steel, you've been to far places and spoken with kings! While I've done nothing in my life. Nothing." He was overwhelmed by a grief he could not put a name to.

      "What did Adov and the king say to each other," the Ezzeman prompted.

      "Adov said — he said, 'Your Majesty . . .'" Steel had been answering with greater and greater reluctance. Now she shrugged and turned her face away. "Oh, I don't know. They weren't together very long. And it was nothing of consequence. Anyway, I don't remember it."

      The magician frowned and for a second time he made that odd, silencing gesture. At that, it seemed to Ware that a light sprang up all around Steel, illuminating her, while at the same time a curtain of dark air sank around himself and the others.

      "Tell me what they said," the magician repeated in a voice that would not be denied.

      Steel shuddered, her eyes closed, and her face became as still as if she slept. When she spoke again, her tone was icy: "Your audacity surprises me. You Ezzemen rarely dare the way into our capital."

      Ware looked up in amazement. That wasn't Steel's voice, but another crueler, more masculine one. She had not only repeated Dur's words, but mimicked his voice as well.

      "What did Adov reply?"

      Steel answered in a cool and hissing accent, "Your armies have crossed our borders, Avianni King. Call them home or you'll suffer for it."

      The Usurper grinned. "And who will make me suffer? You? My venom overmatches yours, little Serpent-man. And when I bite, you'll be the ones to suffer and not I!"

      "How dare you . . . !"

      "How dare I?" The response was vicious. "How dare you come here and threaten me. My armies go where I send them. And when I give the word, they'll eat your desert cities up. Just as I can eat you — any time I choose!"

      The stranger drew in his breath with an audible hiss. "He said that to an Erim-Ess! What did Adov do to him?"

      "Nothing." Steel shook her head dreamily. "As he spoke, the Usurper leaned over and touched Adov on the face, and Adov flinched back as if he'd been burnt. They stared at each other for a minute, and the Usurper began to laugh. Then he reached out again, almost teasingly, as if he was going to touch Adov a second time. But the Ezzeman cringed away before Dur could reach him, and he put his hand to his face and ran out of the throne room without another word."

      The stranger was incredulous. "The King laughed at him, and he ran away?"

      "Yes, he was afraid. And The Usurper knew it, too, because he kept on laughing long after Adov was gone. He likes it when people fear him."

      For several minutes, the stranger looked silently into the fire, evidently thinking over what Steel had told him.

      During this time, Ware never felt the need to shift his position or to speak. His eyes looked at what they fell on, which happened to be Steel, who was directly in his line of vision. She remained erect with her eyes shut. Zex, who sat next to Steel was also motionless, not even blinking. Ware felt no surprise at any of this, he only noticed it.

      At last the stranger looked up. "One more question, Lady. How did you happen to be in the king's throne room to see and hear all this?"

      "I was a prisoner."

      "Then how are you here?"

      A long pause. "I escaped and flew away."

      "Flew away?" The Ezzeman regarded her for a moment, then gave a gentle laugh. "Well, pretty bird, you've given me a lot to think of. And if you were clever enough to escape a king whose power can frighten one of the Erim-Ess, then you deserve to remain free. Therefore, after you've slept a while, I will release you."

      With a gesture of command, he added, "I release you all: sleep and then be free."

      As soon as the magician said the word 'Sleep,' Steel pulled her cloak around her and lay down beside the fire, fast asleep. Hasty slumped down with his head against Steel's boot, snoring. Hearth lay down with her cheek against her arm. Zex, too, was asleep, and so was Ember.

      "Then it wasn't his voice," Ware thought in surprise, looking at the deaf youth. "Ember couldn't have been touched by anything that was said aloud. How strange . . . I thought it was his voice that held us."

      Then he realized that in spite of the magician's words, he, himself, was wide awake. He felt very calm and pleasant, but he was not in the least drowsy.

      The magician got up and put more wood on the fire, which sprang up brighter and warmer than before. In its light, Ware saw for the first time a sort of closed cart, or wagon, whose apple-green painted sides were clearly visible in the firelight. Why hadn't he noticed it before?

      He also realized that someone was speaking from inside the cart. Having recognized this, he began to think that the same voice had joined in the questions the stranger had been asking Steel. Only . . . the voice had been almost too faint for Ware to hear it.

      He concentrated, feeling more wide-awake all the time. Now that he knew the voice was there, he could make out the words quite easily. It said, "I want to look at them, Itok."

      The end of the wagon was hinged to form a wide door. The Ezzeman unfolded three low steps, stepped up, and opened it.

      Through the doorway, Ware saw a long narrow room, cushioned to form a great, creamy bed. Within it, a slender figure stretched at ease, swathed in a glittering cloth that entirely covered its head and body.

      The delicate head turned as she gazed first at one then at another. "Who would have thought that any of their kind could be a threat to us."

      Her voice was sweet as a musical instrument, but you had to be ready or you'd miss it. The veil moved as the woman's hand lifted to point at Zex. "Tell me more about this dangerous king. Speak."

      Without waking, the Berach sat up and said, "The present king, Dur, took the Crown of Avianne from King Hawk by force and magic, some seventeen years ago. Avianne has been at war with its neighbors ever since. King Dur rules harshly. His courtiers and servants often disappear without a trace, and it's rumored that he can kill with a touch. Both he and King Hawk were nephews of the previous king, and as all the members of the Avianni royal house have some degree of the Gift of Firstking, it's thought that . . ."

      "Enough!" she cried. And Zex lay down and slept again.

      "Can't use that one," she murmured. "Clever enough in his way, but too full of blood. Mmm . . . which of these others?"

      The magician sat down in the doorway of the cart. "Why interfere at all, Dearest? The Essens can protect themselves, and they're not our people any longer."

      "Don't be a fool, Itok. The whole future is my concern."

      "Hmf. Forgive the fool for speaking. Unlike the all-wise Serpent's daughter, I'm not responsible for any futures but our own," he returned, with an edge in his voice.

      "Interfere? Serpent's daughter?" Ware said to himself. "What's this Ezzeman up to?"

      The veiled head turned as sharply as if he'd spoken aloud. "Itok," cried the silent voice, "One of them's awake."

      The Ezzeman leaped up to stare at the men and women who lay beside the fire.

      "That one." she said sharply. Itok's eyes flew to Ware, and he immediately felt a soft pressure against his thoughts. Sleep began closing over him like water.

      "How could you have missed him?"

      Already half-asleep, Ware was pleased to discover that he could still hear clearly, even though he was no longer concentrating on her voice.

      Preoccupied, Itok answered, "No matter. I have him . . . now!"

      But Itok was mistaken. As the magician exerted more and more pressure on Ware's mind, a kind of wakeful resistance rose within the young man to counter it.

      At first, he made no conscious effort to oppose the Ezzeman. Rather, it was as if some stubborn center of himself was unwilling to yield to any outside force. Then Ware noticed that this intractable element was located behind a sort of door, deep in his mind. This mental door had always stood slightly ajar, and he perceived that Itok was making an effort to press it shut.

      Seeing this, Ware started consciously to resist. And as he did so, that inward door began to open still more. And then it opened wider still.

      As their silent contest went on and Ware exerted himself more and more, his ability to resist grew stronger. Moreover, his awareness of everything around him sharpened. He could see that the surrounding grove of trees, which until now had seemed perfectly solid, was actually composed of some filmy substance, like smoke — mere illusion. And the fire, which was real, was guarded all around with some misty force that concealed it from anyone who passed.

      The veiled woman was watching his struggle with Itok, and with his new awareness Ware could tell she was interested in its outcome. This put him on his mettle, and after a little more effort he was able to say aloud, through gritted teeth, "No, Itok, you don't . . . have . . . me."

      Immediately, the pressure ceased, and Itok, who was now panting, gasped out, "He heard us!"

      The sound of the Ezzeman's voice brought with it an entirely new discovery: during this whole encounter, none of them had spoken aloud. "I've been hearing your thoughts," Ware cried out, astonished.

      At this, the veiled woman began to laugh. "Hush, pretty one, don't shout at me. But come closer."

      Emboldened by his victory, Ware approached the cart. And at her gesture of invitation, he seated himself on the highest step, right in her doorway. Although he was close enough to touch her, it was still hard to see her face through the gauzy veil.

      "Now . . . you can hear Ess-Issa?" The silent voice sounded as if she were speaking to a small child.

      Aloud: "Yes."

      "Hush. Must I tell you again? Answer without speaking."

      He tried merely thinking the word: "Yes."

      "Very good. You learn quickly . . . for a bakersboy." As she leaned toward him, Ware could see her great eyes shining beneath the veil. "Let us observe the courtesies. I will tell you that in the past few moments I have already learned a good deal about you: You are a native of this barbarous land. You love that girl there, and you follow her to your destiny, which is more dangerous and distant than you dream."

      "And in answer to your unvoiced question, I am Ess-Issa, the Serpent's Daughter of Ezzeen — a being wholly different from yourself. This gentleman with me is called Itok. And by your standards, he is a noble and learned man. He is also — hmm, let me see — my guardian." Once more she sounded amused.

      From behind Ware, Itok muttered painfully, "Surely I deserve more than that."

      Ess-Issa gave him a glance. "Well . . . yes. He is also my companion, and sometimes . . . more. But his life is not easy, Bakersboy, for anyone who serves the Serpent's Daughter must give up at least as much as he receives . . ."

      Itok uttered a wordless sound, but Ware could not read the message that passed between those two. He saw something grim there, and something sad, and he caught a glimpse of something that looked like stars, seen at a close range.

      Ess-Issa gave Ware a glance. "Ah, you saw that?"

      "Some of it."

      She leaned closer. "A clever child. Perhaps a useful one."

      "He's not a child," Itok said sharply. "You're toying with him, Ess-Issa. Or else you're toying with me!"

      "Perhaps. And whichever it is . . . poor Itok." The musical voice had no pity in it, and the Ezzeman got up abruptly and went away, muttering something about sticks for the fire.

      Sensing that the magician was in pain, and that Ess-Issa had deliberately driven him away, Ware cried roughly, "What's going on? What do you want with us."

      "Ah, he asks for knowledge." She slid her hand from under the veil and extended it toward him. An odd hand, Ware thought. It was too narrow, and the skin of it seemed to glisten with a light of its own. "You may touch me."

      He took the odd, long hand in his own, and . . . Oh! It was as if he'd grasped a burning coal! Pain rippled from hand to shoulder, and he would have jerked away, but she held him fast. When she spoke, her voice resounded through his very flesh, burning him more terribly than her touch: "Now you feel the nature of the Serpent's Daughter. Taste her Gift. Don't draw away . . . great power is hard-won."

      As her words flowed over his mind, Ware experienced an almost physical tug toward her. He stared, unable to tear his eyes away from the shimmering white figure as slowly, slowly, she lifted the veil from her face . . . .

      Strange she was, but beautiful . . . long, heavy-lidded green eyes, pale pink lips, a small straight nose, and on her high, arched forehead was the mark of a sleeping eye. "Look upon Ess-Issa, Little One. Will you not suffer a little pain to taste the lips of the Serpent's Daughter?"

      That soundless, caressing voice was all around him. "Ess-Issa calls you, Bakersboy. Come, kiss me, if you're brave enough." She was teasing him, he knew. Testing his strength. In the grip of the pain that still coursed through his hand and arm, the sight of that silent, voluptuous mouth made him feel weak. Her words resounded in his mind: "Steal one kiss of agony, and I will give you bliss for it. In one blinding moment, I can show your future painted, a future we can alter at my whim. I can grant you wishes you could not dream of. Come with me if you can. If you dare. Join with Ess-Issa, daughter of the Eternal Serpent."

      He was falling into her eyes. She was invading his mind, pouring over it a promise of power, knowledge, and delight.

      "Ess-Issa!" A voice from the other side of the fire cried aloud in torment.

      The drowning, green glance wavered. "Itok . . ." Her eyes slid away from Ware. "Itok, you ask too much fidelity. I must do what I was meant to do."

      Itok came close behind Ware. "No, Dearest. Whatever you plan, whatever you need — use me!"

      She gazed at the Ezzeman for a moment. Then, with a very human sigh, she released Ware's hand and dropped the veil across her face again. And the spell was broken.

      Leaning back against the cushions, she murmured. "I don't want this for you, Itok. It will be terrible, perhaps fatal work. You cannot endure it."

      "Never mind that, I won't share you. Not while I live."

      The veiled head moved. "Then . . . it shall be as you wish."

      The Ezzeman pushed past Ware, who moved aside to let him pass. Once inside the cart, Itok began arranging the cushions around her. Then he turned abruptly and shut the door, closing Ware out.

      From inside the cart, Ware heard her murmur sorrowfully, "But what will I do when you're gone, Itok?"

      "Dearest, I'll be with you a long time yet."

      After that, there was only silence.

      Ware looked at the closed door; then he went back to the fire. Hasty turned over and stopped snoring. Steel sighed in her sleep. Nothing further happened. The fire burned lower, and neither Itok nor the voice returned.

      He unrolled his pack and got out his quilt. Noticing that his companions were sleeping without cover, he went for more wood and fed the fire. Let them rest warm, too, he thought grimly.

      Steel's sleeping face was turned to the fire, her lashes dark against her pale skin. There was a scratch across her chin, and her long hair was escaping from its braid in untidy tendrils across her cheek. She looked very little and thin in his cast-off clothes.

      He spread his own quilt over her and then lay down beside Hearth and closed his eyes.

      Later, however, as he slept, a voice appeared in his dreams like the ghost of his breath on a frosty morning.

      "There will be another time . . . Bakersboy."

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