Dance of Demons

Chapter 18

It had been all they could manage to remain where they stood. Either their own abilities or the power of the rings would normally have enabled Gellor and Leda to ascertain what was happening within the castle's great tower, but neither method availed. Just as the troubador grew so restless that he was about to disobey Gord and return to the interior of the fortress, his mind received his friend's urgent plea for energy:

". . send me the force held within your rings," Gord had telepathically demanded.

Even as Gellor concentrated, willing the energy that lay in the golden circlet to flow to Gord, the bard looked toward Leda. The dark elfs lovely face was also etched with furrows of concentration. She too had heard the message and was complying.

Neither was certain just what forces were contained in their respective rings, or how best to supply the dweomered energy to their comrade, but each did the utmost to serve as a conduit. Suddenly there was a visible flashing, a ray of force that sprang from each ring. These rays combined and shot into the castle's ever — darker mass with a sound like a triumphant chorus of celestial voices.

"I feel weak," Leda said, swaying on her feet.

Gellor supported the little elven girl with his arm. "It was the power of the rings," he said. "We succeeded in giving Gord whatever was held fast by these bands. Let us hope it was sufficient, for now I am as drained as you, Leda. I couldn't hold a sword now to defend myself against a stripling hobgoblin."

Though the enervation brought both sudden feebleness, the recovery came as quickly. In the space of a hundred heartbeats the two went from near debilitation to vigorousness again; and with the renewal of strength came a sense of new power and capacity.

"We succeeded!" Leda cried triumphantly. "Now we must return to Gord's side."

Gellor was again trying to pierce the veils that surrounded the grim citadel. The growing evil hampered that, and the sheathing of adamantite precluded penetration of the place in which the troubador knew his young comrade now fought Tharizdun. "Wait, Leda. Just wait a little yet. If there is no signal from him soon. " Just then there was a sudden darkening and heaviness quite unlike the slow insinuation of malign nature that the evil archfiend had caused in his reawakening. Gellor broke off to ask, "What invidious force is this?"

Leda couldn't mistake the presence. "It is the Lord of Entropy! He has come to undo our work. . "

"No need to be despondent, girl! Gord's quest is shared by us all, now. Don't we have three rings? Does he not obtain our help? Ask for our power?"

"Yes, but he now fights alone against two enemies."

"You said 'our' work and that is plainly true. We three fight together. Gord now faces Tharizdun and the entity alone because that is what he commanded. What course now, though? Can you sense any clue, Leda?"

She paused, concentrating. "No. There is. . nothing. I say that if we believe the situation altered, doubt Gord's capacity to handle it, we must perforce disobey his instructions. Let's rejoin him now!"

The troubador hesitated, weighing the prospects. "Wait. We must wait just a little yet."

"You wait if you wish, old man," Leda cried. "I can't stand here another moment while Gord fights those two all alone!"

He watched the dark elf step back into the fortress, torn between his own desire to follow her and what Gord had said. Then there came an all-pervasive laughter, as evil a sound of glee as the energy from the rings had been righteous. "Leda! Come back! The archfiend is free!" Shouting this, Gellor ran inside himself, seeking her inside the castle's now lightless confines. There came a sudden glow from just ahead, as if a wizard had cast enchanted light to counter the gloom. As if in response, soft illumination came from him too, the glow as golden as the light ahead was silvery. "Leda!" he cried again. "At least wait for me!"

"Hurry, then! I know the way to the keep," Leda shouted back Then she paused until the amberglowing Gellor was near. "There, down that hallway," the dark elven priestess said. "We must follow that to the corridor to the vaulted chamber beyond. The staircase — "

"Yes, yes. I recall," Gellor said puffing a little from the exertion and excitement. "I'll take the lead, for I have a sword. Stay close!" He and Leda had not gone half of the hall's distance, however, when an azure light filled its far end.

"What are you two doing in here?" Gord demanded as he ran toward the two. "This whole place is about to crumble. Rim for your lives!" He was up with than in an instant, shoving at their backs in order to speed them onward. "Out — we have to get out!"

Great hunks of sooty stone were raining down around the three as they shot out of the castle, gasping for breath. The bridgeway across the chasm was beginning to show signs of disintegration too, so there was no respite. They ran on, making their way across the perilously swaying span as the central tower rumbled into a thunderous crescendo of collapse. From that epicenter the destruction proceeded, until the outer curtain walls of the citadel began to fall into ruin. They had just cleared the bridge when it cracked and splintered, dropping away soundlessly into the bottomless space it had arched over. The once-bright quicksilver was now pitchy and brittle stuff of unguessable sort, it seemed, as they dragged each other onward, finally managing to clear the tall outwork as it too crashed into rubble.

They fell gasping at a place where the tumbling blocks of obsidian-hued stone rolled near as would breakers at the ocean's shore, their place Just beyond the farthest danger. "What happened?" Leda managed to get out. Then she looked at her love. "You're not badly hurt, are you?"

"The bastard! It was Entropy. He somehow managed to breach the prison. Tharizdun escaped then — just as I had him!"

"You were outfighting the Ultimate Evil?" Gellor's disbelief was very much in evidence despite the rasping voice that their recent flight forced from him.

"He is the Champion," Leda sniffed.

"He is right, Leda. Listen to the wisdom of our friend," Gord responded after drawing several deep breaths. "Never again will there be such an opportunity as I had just then. Tharizdun was newly awakened, muddled, only half what he will soon be. I could have — would have! — sent him into the void forever more had not the Lord of Entropy interfered."

"What will we do?"

"Gather our own resources and prepare for a second battle. There is no other option. If we sought to avoid it, Tharizdun would certainly come to seek us out. No, there is but one thing to do. Ready and then find that maggot before he has the opportunity to become fully prepared."

Gellor nodded somberly. "I must agree. It is the only course we have. How long before the darkest is able to draw into his being the full might of the netherspheres?"

"The demons will resist!" Leda interjected.

"Aye, that they will. Tharizdun will go into the pits of Hades first, absorb the powers there, then do likewise in the infernal regions. Demonium will be his last stop in the lower worlds, that is certain." Gord took a moment to quaff a small amount of elixir from a little flask he had drawn from his belt pouch. He offered it to his comrades, and both Leda and Gellor sipped. "Refreshing, isn't it? It is something which the wizard aichemist Keogh gave to me. …" He shook his head, dispelling whatever thoughts of the Lords of Balance were surfacing. "To the problem at hand. If all of the demons in the Abyss unite to combat Tharizdun, they could not hold out a moon's cycle. Never will those contentious ones join forces, so it will be less than a month. Then Tharizdun will have the force of demonic dweomer, too."

"You mean in a fortnight or so, the dreaded Evil will be fully revitalized?"

"No, Gellor. In fact, until he manages to slay me, the maggot will never gain his full strength!"

Leda was mystified at such an assertion. "What makes you say that, Gord? I too know a little of Tharizdun. and there is no abridgement of his evil because of the existence of a champion to oppose him."

Gord smiled a hard, mirthless grin. It was almost as if he were a panther growling at some other creature that dared to come too close. "The grublord was kind enough to give me a bit of his potential," he grated.

"Please be more specific, my young friend," the bard said softly. "We are part of this fight, no?"

"Yes." Gord agreed simply. Then he drew the bag that had been strapped over his shoulder and laid it down before them. Undoing the thongs that tied it shut, Gord reached in and pulled forth the skull by its flaxen hair. "Tharizdun neglected to consume the boy fully in his vampiric, cannibalistic feast. Until he gams this head from me and devours it, the darkest of maggots will not have full use of his own brain!"

His friends listened in horrified fascination as Gord proceeded to describe to them what Tharizdun had done and recreated for the view of his adversary. "He hoped to make me impotent by such a ghastly display. But I was able to resist, and then it was too late — he could find no opportunity to regain the grisly trophy he had flung at me." The Lords of Light, Gord said, must have made the boy as one would create a clone when Tharizdun was bound fast. That made Leda shudder. "No true reproduction of the darkest, though. The boy was an aging imp. He was the receptacle of those thoughts and forces that could not be submerged in comatose slumber when the greatest of the malevolent was confined." Of course, he surmised, the child-Tharizdun was neither smart nor strong enough to attempt any loosening of the bonds that held him and his progenitor fast in the castle's tower. "He was merely a boy who epitomized evil in childish form."

"Then what would have occurred had Tharizdun not. . not done as he did?" asked the elven girl in revulsion.

"Perhaps the boy would then have had the nourishment to mature, to become a true twin of Tharizdun, but neither would have been as strong as the original, even assuming that two such beings could agree to work in concert. The boy was Tharizdun only in the sense that it was a thing which held a portion of the darkest one's powers. Now had I slain Tharizdun and the boy survived, then perhaps …"

"We would have more time," Gellor ventured, "but the same end result"

"That seems plausible. But the actuality is otherwise, and we have a dual problem too. The Lord of Entropy now allies with the darkest."

There can only be one reason for that," Leda said angrily. "By that means the entity will hasten the end of all. Is there nothing which we can do to counter the alliance?"

"Surely. Gord, the deepest wickedness will never agree to share with the Lord of Entropy?" the bard observed. The alliance cannot survive a week."

"A sennight of eons. Gellor. Tharizdun lacks the faculty to reason properly in some narrow areas. Remember that Entropy will have no Joy in oppressing, not the least desire to rule Evil. The entity will only require certain actions on Tharizdun's part, mere triflings which will probably please the darkest. A slaughter here, destruction there, an end to some opposing drives — joy, hope, creativity. Then will the final steps move more swiftly. Tharizdun will rule supreme, but Lord Entropy will lurk ever closer, and soon thereafter will stillness come over endless nothing, and the realm of Entropy will be complete. Tharizdun's force will expire in a whimpering at the last."

"Let us give the head to Tharizdun then, for it will allow him to discover the entity's design." suggested Leda.

"Perhaps it would, but the selfishness of the most malign is so great that the result would likely not be as we would hope, and I — we — would then have no chance of defeating the maggot!"

"Do we have any hope of that now, Gord?"

"Gellor, I believe that we do. I have kept certain information from you, I now admit." When he observed the expressions on his friends' faces, Gord was apologetic. "Do not be hurt or offended — It was because the foe had to be kept ignorant. Besides, I am not sure that we can actually expect active help. I am also unsure of how useful aid will be if it is granted to us."

"I can accept your determination to keep your own counsel," Gellor said. "I have suspected something ever since our sojourn in the depths of demonium. You seemed to have inspiration, fresh direction, as it were, when we were there and you were sunk into introspection."

"That's all very well and good, you two," Leda said impatiently. "Please share the news with me. What allies do we have?"

Gord took her hand, gave her a kiss on her forehead. "Hush, girl. You and Gellor will know soon enough. We need to restore ourselves quickly now and move along. There is much travel to accomplish, and who can say what will lie in wait along the road?"

"What path do we follow, Gord?"

"First we seek the end of Law. If we attain that, we must go to the uttermost extreme of Tolerance."

"Order is anathema to my- "

"I know, Leda. Yet if you would share in this thing, then you must be willing to endure that."

"If I understand you aright, Gord," the troubador remarked, "then I too will not find the passage easy. Perhaps I miss the mark, but the second destination suggests some- "

"I suggest that we all refrain from further discourse, dear friends! Of all places, this is one which must see us no more. Are you both ready to begin again?"

They understood. Gellor said no more about where he thought they had to journey, and Leda asked no more, voiced no objections. It was a simple matter for them to walk out of the strange plane. Just as if the three were going along a material track they strode back down the mountainlike terrain and soon arrived at the verge where the Empyreal Sphere commenced.

"Now we will benefit further from these bands forged by Weal," Gord said confidently. "The rings will enable us to move quickly through the upper planes to reach the Sphere of Order. If we find an ally there, then will be time enough to regain our strength and repair the damage taken from this battle."

From the place of fire and hue they entered clear light, crossed the Celestial Sphere, then the sphere of creative energy. Many paths wended from there, but Gord directed their steps along the one of astral way, then into the aethereal, and finally the three tired wayfarers came to where the Realm of Regularity lay. In successively more trying stages they then trekked further. Beyond the frontiers of Regularity was the rigid place of Law, and that was but the province of Order. The strange and inflexible beings inhabiting those realms attempted to interfere with the three heroes, for not even Gellor was so structured in his ethos that his aura would pass unnoticed. Their inner strength, the force imbued in Gord and Gellor too, and the great dweomers still resting in the rings enabled them to pass unhindered.

"It is as if we suddenly became ethereal and those who seek to hinder remain in gross form," Leda noted admiringly after they bypassed a succession of ever greater and more hostilely inclined creatures.

She was nearly correct. They used the littleknown vestiges of other spheres to slip from such ones seeking to bar their progress. Here it was indeed the Aethereal that served, there Shadowrealm impinged, and too there was the ever-narrowing plane of Chance. At last their surroundings altered.

"We are?" Gellor inquired.

"At the extremity of all Order," Gord announced. "We now tread on the Realm of Uniformity, a wedgeshaped plane, my friends. We cannot fail to reach our goal here!"

Leda was filled with curiosity, but she would give neither of the men the satisfaction of asking. Gord knew, and Gellor seemed to be aware of their destination too. Very well, she would simply bide her time and await the arrival. She marched ahead with firmness of step and aloof air. Progress was made as easy by their rings as if the three wore the famed league-long striders whose every step carried the wearer fully three miles along. Gord set a pace that made them all have to save their strength and breath to sustain it. The confines of the sphere grew narrower, and that too compressed them somehow so it was exhausting work to progress. Ever more narrow grew the vista, and so too the difficulty experienced in forcing themselves to move ever onward. It was as if they traveled but time stood still.

"How much farther?" asked Gellor, and Gord saw that the bard was pallid and drawn from the strain of the passage. "I am sorry, comrade, but if there is yet a long way to go, I will have to rest — or you two will have to go on alone."

Leda, glad for the slowing of the pace, felt that she was likewise at the end of her endurance, but somehow she managed to say "I will help you along, dear bard, and Gord will lend me his arm. We three are not to be separated now!"

"Quite so, quite so," agreed a dry and ancient voice. A man of venerable appearance stood before them on a little hillock of sand.

"Ah, Chronos! We have found your abode at last!"

"And about time, too," the old fellow cackled. It was a merry and vigorous humor that belied his decrepit appearance.

In fact, Leda noted, much about the ancient man seemed contradictory. There were muscles there beneath the wrinkled and weatherbeaten skin, and Chronos's eyes were those of a young and inquisitive child, while his white hair and beard were as thick as any swain's thatch. "Chronos? You are. .?"

"Proctor Chronos, just as you thought when you truly looked at me," the strange fellow responded. "You are Leda, and he is Gellor," the master of the dimension of time said with a smile toward the oneeyed man beside Leda. "That's not news to you, though, is it, worthy troubador? No, of course not. You have more than ample ability to read my plain and homely aura, I'd say." He combed his long beard with his fingers, shaking his head sadly. "I know I am going on as would a dotard, but the assault of Entropy there in the high prison fairly addled me — wont recover from that for an age! No, that's a certainty. Won't lightly pass the offense off, either!"

"You aided me in the past-"

"No such thing!" Proctor Chronos contradicted quarrelsomely. "Past, present, future — all the same, don't you know? Think boy! You've been in Shadowrealm, haven't you? Of course, of course …" and he paused to gaze at Gellor and the dark elven girl as if seeking their affirmation. "Time is just the same in its form, so to speak. Flows along right back to where it came from in a loop! Don't let anyone fool you. It's as if there were but a single side, a single verge, so no matter where you go in the stream you're in the same place — sort of."

Gord smiled. "Your sagacity is of the ages of time, Proctor. You did lend me aid. . "

"Certainly. Helped you and that bard there so you could get the girl and those blamed Theorparts. Still in all, that didn't give the Lord of Entropy cause for the attack!"

Gellor was more than a little confused by that. "I crave your pardon for the seeming offense of this question, Proctor Chronos, but aren't you — that is. Time — and the Lord of Entropy one and the same, or closely related allies?"

"What? Never! Never, do you hear? If the entity ever gains his domain, why, there will be no time at all, none! Chronos and Entropy are at opposite ends. I measure events, put the proper and necessary limits and boundaries to things. In Entropy's kingdom there is nothing, stasis. How can time exist there? Can't, of course!" Then he peered closely at the grizzled troubador. "What savants have you studied under?"

Gellor looked abashed, and Leda had difficulty suppressing a giggle. Gord stepped in to rescue the situation. "When the Lord of Entropy brought his entire force to bear upon the adamantite sheathing of the prison which held the evillest one, then he was violating your precincts?"

"That is just so," Proctor Chronos agreed with a scowl at the thought of Entropy's temerity. "That thing forced a distortion of the stream of the weight of its entlre existence concentrated there. Think of it as a behemoth stepping into the stream and causing the soft bottom to sink. The fluidity of time drained into the depression, swirled and grew deep. It was so collected, in fact, that in other places the cosmos was without its measure for a. . a. . um. ." The fellow paused and scratched his head. "It brought an unaccounted-for interval!"

"Unthinkable!" Leda said.

"Unforgivable," Gellor concurred dryly.

"And so you now agree to assist us further, as I understand," Gord stated, directing the conversation back to where he had been trying to keep it.

"But of course, champion. That's why I sent you the message. You did receive it, didn't you?"

"No."

"That unmeasured jackanapes! Entropy slowing things again, is he? Well, we'll see about that. Come along! We must be moving along now. Time is not to be wasted, and it is high time to bring the culprit to an accounting!"

Proctor Chronos had no scythe as was usually depicted as his instrument. He employed neither a sand glass nor water clock nor even a candle. From inside his togalike garment the Master of Time brought forth a strange thing that was of globular form. First it showed a billion blazing motes, then it shifted to but a few specks that whirled in orbits around the larger mote in the center. As if annoyed at the sphere, Chronos gave it a shake, and it again changed to depict many translucent little orbs inside the greater one of itself, and the multihued balls overlapped and interposed one another in a most confusing manner. "Aaah, that's better," Proctor Chronos muttered, not at all confused by the sight of his device. He studied it for a few minutes, then shook it once more. It changed instantly into a ribbon of sandy stuff that seemed to flow without actually moving at all. The master of time whipped the length of that material around his waist as if it were a sash, gave one end a half-turn, and then placed it over the other. The two merged, and Proctor Chronos smiled, his eyes bright and lively with mirth. "Now we go to the House of Option."

"We do not move backward to change what Entropy did?" Gellor inquired with some concern.

"How often must I reiterate it? There is no forward nor back," Chronos said with some irritability evident. "Besides, I would be in violation of my own standards if I tried to change occurrences such as that which are of timely sort. It occurred, and that is that. Now come along!"

The ancient proctor stepped off with a lively step. The three heroes followed. Although it seemed as if they walked on a treadmill, for the sandy soil beneath their feet seemed unchanging, the scene around them changed and flowed swiftly. Every so many paces the appearance of the Master of Time altered as well. At first he grew younger, seeming to become a man of but seventy or so years, then but sixty. What caused the mutation was impossible to judge, for things all around sped past so swiftly that the three saw only a blur of color, heard a babble of sound occasionally, as well as smelled fleeting hints of varied odors, and that confused their senses greatly. Then Proctor Chronos began to grow. He thickened, shot up inches, then became quite fat, and finally the Master of Time was a giant who still stumped along heavily before Gord, Leda, and Gellor.

"He grows vaster still," Leda whispered in Gord's ear as they went on.

"It is because the region of the multiverse we now travel has a very intense concentration of time."

The bard couldn't help overhearing the exchange. He was somewhat uncertain of exactly what his young friend referred to. "A concentration? That is contrary to the concept of time, Gord. Time is a measure of equal or unequal intervals which record data, the lives of creatures, and so forth."

"That is so, but that does not contradict what I told Leda. Time is intense here because it is measured at fine and precise intervals as well as at irregular but important ones. It is concentrated too, meaning that there are many streams present," the young champion added with a touch of smugness.

"Stop that, Gord," Leda scolded. "You can behave as a sage might because you know our destination. If you had informed Gellor and me, then you wouldn't have the advantage. I believe you keep us in the dark to make just such points."

She was only jesting, but Gord cringed in mock suffering from the admonition. "Please, no more. I am contrite. Do take note, though, that on past occasions the wise and learned troubador has used similar opportunities to make me appear a — "

"Never mind, dear lady," Gellor said haughtily. "This former pupil — and he was a slow and thick one, let me tell you — merely shows off to demonstrate ability beyond his instructor's ken. His example is sufficient to allow the discerning mind a true and stark depiction of the relative merits of our widely diverse mental-"

"Gellor!" This time Leda was shaking her finger. "Now you are being the pedant, and insufferably so, too. What has gotten into you two?"

"I merely sought to lighten the mood," Gellor said sheepishly.

Gord was solemn again, after grinning at his friend's ranting. "We act so, my love, because the burden of what is before is too heavy to bear continuously."

"Oh … of course. I had almost forgotten about Tharizdun just now."

"Excellent," boomed the voice of Proctor Chronos. "I plan to see that time takes no note of that. . 'maggot,' as Champion Gord has named him.. soon now."

The Master of Time was standing before them, a veritable colossus of middling years and muscles that would have shamed the strongest of the titans. "Although Lady Tolerance and I do not always see eye to eye, as you human folk put it, she is a charming and wonderful hostess."

"We are not seeking entertainments," Gord snapped without thinking.

"No? Well, I remind you that she is also a most powerful- "

"That is enough from you, Chronos! The voice came from a female figure of similar build to the Master of Time. "I will speak for myself in my own domain, thank you." Then, as if to show she meant no offense, the lady took Proctor Chronos by his arm and led him into the formal garden that seemed to have simply appeared instantly before the group. "Come along. Champion Gord, Heroine Leda, and Hero Gellor. You are all most welcome visitors to the House of the Fifth Dimension."

The woman — being, correctly, although she appeared now as a giant human because it suited the situation — told the three that she was the ruler of Probability, the fifth dimension. "I observed what was likely to happen, and sent Chronos to your aid, Gord, when you and your comrades were there in.

"You did no such thing!" the Master of Time countered. "It was I who suggested that you allow a greater possibility of equivalence, and thus the compact of the exchange of the relic for the girl was negated."

"I thank you both," Gord said. "We are here for an important reason which is yet before us. Tharizdun now roams free in the cosmos. He gains strength, gathers power, and soon he will come to search me out for it seems I am the only obstacle between him and total subjugation of all things."

"We know that" Chronos said. "But Lord Entropy unbalanced the contest."

Lady Tolerance raised her hand. "Not quite so. The possibility of the entity doing that was there, and it occurred. It was interference, though, and too much so. Entropy has meddled in the whole affair far beyond the boundaries of plausibility. Thus you are here in my house, and thus can I give you some assistance."

"Will you then distill history so that no interference occurred?"

"No more than Chronos here would, no. I am Lady Tolerance, after all. I must allow all things, even those which are inimical to my very existence such as multiple probabilitles existing simultaneously. The Lord of Entropy is one such opposer, and the most deadly, I must add. Some imagine that old Chronos might be, but I spin out new lines and he busily marks and measures them. Probability and alternatives allow him to both be ever busy and persistent too."

"Exactly so, my lady. Time does dwindle away in some aspects of the multiverse, but this wise and generous one sustains new branches."

"Well, at least a mark and dIvide, allowing the new if the cause is sufficiently diverse to warrant another difference. Sometimes I simply allow an action to have effect only within the limited space allowed by the four lower dimensions, you know."

"Limited? You imply some lesser status, I think!" Chronos began to berate their hostess, and soon both were involved in a heated dispute. The matter was one of existence, with probability and time so intermixed that soon neither of these beings seemed able to untangle the mesh of their webs of argumentation. Time fostered probability in that given a sufficiently long interval anything, or almost anything, could and would occur. Chance, on the other hand, both measured and confined time. Did absolute uniformity negate chance and thus engender time? Only temporarily, for uniformity was subject to Entropy's assaults more readily than chaotic diversity. And so it went.

Although the three of them had seated themselves in the chairs that were in the garden of Lady Tolerance, it was disconcerting to witness the dispute, for as she argued the mistress of probability tended to emphasize her points by altering the setting. That included the garden and chairs too. "Aahemmm!" Gord finally coughed, sitting uncomfortably upon a six-legged stool that was at least seven feet high. "There is still the matter of Tharizdun. . "

Lady Tolerance uttered an exclamation of annoyance. It was directed at herself. Gord suddenly found himself sprawling in a vast sofa, his companions likewise seated, and the setting surrounding them was some weird and improbably futuristic one. Crystalclear glass walled them in, plants were everywhere in sight, being set into strange barrels and tubs, dweomered illumination sprang from milk-hued globes and metal-headed objects of serpentine form. Low tables of metal and glass, wicker furniture, malformed paintings, odd pottery in strange shapes serving as a curious touch.

"What place is this?" Gord inquired, almost voicing his concern that they might border on the realms of Tharizdun.

"It is one which is drawn from a distant parallel of chance, not time. Be assured it Is of the safest sort also. Do you like the style?"

"I must tell you. Lady Tolerance, that never have I seen such in all of my many travels. . "

"Thank you. Please be my guests for the time. Proctor Chronos and I must confer as to the nature of our involvement in the matter. You three need to restore yourselves, I know."

Time is ample here, for I confer it In abundance," Chronos told them as he arose to accompany the Mistress of Probability elsewhere. "It will seem but moments before we are back, but time and probability will serve to mend all of your hurts, revitalize you. Make use of it wisely!"

They left and Leda looked at Gord and Gellor, asking, "What have we gotten into?"

The only opportunity for survival, girl," the bard ventured, and the young champion next to him agreed.