If I Pay Thee Not In Gold

• Chapter 14

Xylina wiped a grimy hand across her brow, feeling grit mix with the sweat, and surveyed the rest of her exhausted crew. They would take what sleep they could, when morning drove the armored spiders away-but first they needed to drag the remains of the dead monsters out of their camp, and to dispose of their own dead. Altogether, they had managed to slay over twenty of the creatures; it was hard to tell exactly how many there had been, because so many of them had been burned. There were five more men gone now: four of the fighters and one of the three servants. Miraculously, all of the animals had survived the attack; she was still not certain how. Ware said that at one point he had seen the mules in a defensive circle with his stallion; that was all he could tell her.

It took them several hours to hitch the mules to the charred and dismembered bodies and drag them out of the gap Xylina created in the palisade. Sadly, the disposition of their own dead took far less time. They piled the bodies-or, more aptly, what was left of the bodies- onto an improvised pyre, and poured the last of the oil over them, while Hazard spoke the words in a voice harsh from smoke and shouting. Then Ware ignited the pyre, and they returned to the camp while the flames still burned. Xylina had just enough energy left to create another palisade stone-and she had to hold onto the tent-stake lest she collapse when she finished. Fortunately, both Faro and Ware were so tired that neither of them seemed to notice.

They slept the sleep of the utterly exhausted until noon, when the heat woke them. Xylina dispelled the palisade and tents, while the men broke down the camp.

They were following the road again within the hour, pushing the mules to put as much distance between them and where they had been attacked as they could. Between sunrise, which was when they had left the hacked-up bits of spider outside the palisade, and noon, which was when she had dissipated the stone, scavengers had already reduced the dead monsters to bits of tough armor and scattered claws.

They did their best to put as many leagues between them and the spiders as possible. Ware confided that he hoped they would come within another magic zone soon, but as night fell, and the land about them had not changed in any significant way, Xylina and the demon had to admit defeat. They had not escaped the danger region. Tonight there would likely be another such attack, and they were just as ill-prepared to meet it as the first time.

They were forced to halt in a place where the tentacle creatures were particularly thick on the ground, and that was not encouraging, either. It was very difficult to find a large enough space free of them to make any size camp at all. But that was not the worst of it.

When Xylina steeled herself to conjure another stone palisade, she realized that her efforts of last night, and perhaps lack of sleep, had seriously depleted her resources. This was a new experience for her; she must have overextended herself, magically, and would have to wait a few days for recovery. She could not conjure stone to give them protection. Even her efforts at conjuring oil for a trench were frighteningly difficult, and she very nearly fainted after the second barrelfull.

Ware approached. "You are magically exhausted," he murmured. "Faro and I hoped this would not be the case. We shall have to cover for you, lest the men think they lack protection."

So she had not fooled Ware or Faro. "Think?" she asked wanly.

Ware caught Faro's eye, and nodded. He approached as if just thinking of something. "Mistress," he said, loudly enough to be heard throughout, "it occurs to me that we have been depending too much on your magic. Last night we thought the stone and oil was sufficient, so we were caught by surprise when they weren't. We should assume more of the burden of defense ourselves, keeping your powers in reserve for ugly surprises."

The other men paused, then slowly nodded. They weren't lazy, and they wanted to survive. Last night had been brutal, but perhaps it would be better if Xylina used her magic only when their efforts failed. Faro directed them in the preparation of earthworks and wooden stakes, keeping them busy. "Build as close to the tentacles as you can," he said. "So that any intruders will brush them before reaching us." There was a mutter of almost humorous agreement.

Nevertheless, Xylina had to try to do her part. She decided that it was best to begin with the oil, rather than the palisade, for when she gathered her power, she felt disoriented and dizzy. The next barrel filled sluggishly, the oil flowing from a point between her hands much more slowly than she was used to-and it was not that the magic power was not available. She sensed the power waiting for her to call upon it-but she was the one lacking. She felt as if she had begun a long run directly after a marathon swim: her "muscles" were tired, and could not direct the power as she was used to. And the more she tried, the harder it became to control.

"Do not push yourself too hard," Ware said. "I have seen this before, on rare occasion. Too much exertion interferes with the recovery process."

She smiled at him, grateful for the understanding. At that moment she wanted to kiss him. An aspect of herself pondered that with bemusement: she was so fatigued that she was attracted to a demon. But she kept working.

As she finished the following barrel, she had a moment of disorientation-and then her sight went gray around the edges, her knees gave, and she swayed where she stood.

Ware caught her before she fell, and lowered her gently to the ground. There she sat, surrounded by the worried and frightened faces of her men, wondering if she had doomed them all. What was she going to do? They couldn't possibly survive another attack of the spiders without some kind of protection to keep some of the creatures out. The oil she had conjured would scarcely last an hour in a trench, and she was not certain that she could conjure more at this point.

Now it was not possible to conceal the fact that her magic was low. She saw recognition passing through the group. Yet there seemed to be as much sympathy as fear. They were concerned for her almost more than for themselves. She appreciated that tacit support. Some other group might have chosen that moment to rebel, realizing that the magic of the mistress could no longer stop them. But her efforts to treat them like human beings were now being rewarded; they were treating her like a human being. And so this moment of her devastation was, in its subtle way, also her success.

Ware looked around. "I had hoped this would not occur yet," he said to the group. "Mistress Xylina was doing so well. The problem is that though Mazonite magic works beyond Mazonia, it fades with distance. Thus her resources are not what they were before, or what they will be when we return. She will have to do less conjuring for now, so that her strength is not depleted."

Of course that was it! If Mazonite conjuration were strong everywhere, the other cultures would not have been able to maintain their independence. Xylina found that reassuring; she was not really weakening. It was part of the problem of far traveling. At least the men understood, now, and so did she.

But it was still her responsibility to protect this group. What could she do, without strong conjuration?

Outside the circle of concerned faces, she caught sight of other curious onlookers. The last sunlight gleamed on the huge emerald eyes of the lemurs, who peered at these invaders of their realm with unblinking gazes. This was the nearest she had ever seen them before. Perhaps the fact that they were all standing quietly had reassured the shy beasts. They had come to the very edge of the tentacle-beasts, and stood just within that charmed circle, watching the naked strangers avidly.

Charmed circle-the lemurs were weaponless, far more helpless than the intruders. Yet they were certainly surviving the night, with no palisades and no weapons. Could the tentacle beasts be protecting them?

"Ware, Faro," Xylina said urgently, as the latter brought her a cup of cool water and the former helped her to stand. "Look at the lemurs! They have no defenses, no weapons, no shells to protect them!They manage to avoid the spiders-could we do the same?"

"By hiding within the tentacle-beasts?" Ware asked, quickly seeing what she meant. "We could, if we could avoid the poison, or whatever it is that the beasts produce to kill with. I can't see any other way that the lemurs could be avoiding those spiders."

"I think their fur must protect them from the poison," she said thoughtfully. "The dog that died had such short hair it could not possibly have protected him; in fact, there was no fur to speak of on his belly or his paws. But look at the lemurs! Look, how thick their fur is, and how it covers every part of them, right up to the eyes, even the palms of their hands and the soles of their feet-"

"Then we should kill them and skin their fur, and wrap ourselves in it-" began Horn. But she shook her head, for that was no answer, and something in her rebelled at killing the gentle-seeming beasts.

"No, no, that won't serve," she told him. "Even if we were to kill the poor things, how would we retrieve the bodies? The bodies would certainly fall well within the reach of the tentacles. And I don't think we have time to kill and skin enough of them to cover us all. No, I have a better idea. Get all the clothing, every bit of it you all have, and armor as well-"

"Ah!" Faro cried, seeing what she was getting at. "You mean us to wrap up in our own clothing, to protect ourselves that way." He led the men and servants to the supply wagons, and shortly every one of them was muffled in every stitch of clothing he owned, turning them into motley bundles, looking like nothing so much as overstuffed dolls, stiff-limbed and awkward. But that would not matter, so long as they were protected.

Xylina surveyed them critically. "Not enough," she declared finally. "But this, I still have strength for."

And she began to conjure, producing length after length of thick, insulating fabric. Fabric was the very first thing she had learned to conjure, when she was small. Fabric took the very least of her own energies to produce.

It was hideous stuff; her weakness did not permit her to produce anything fine or attractive. The dull brown color and coarse "weave" said more about her state of exhaustion than she suspected any of them guessed. Not since her power of conjuration had first come to her had she created anything this crude. Any Mazonite worth her citizenship would laugh at this stuff; it was worse than bad, and the only thing it had to recommend it was the fact that she knew that, like silk, it was an insulator and probably proof against most contact poisons. Wrap a man in enough of this, and it would be as good as the lemurs' thick fur.

Crude it might be. But she could spin it out of the air in quantity, and spin she did. It was almost therapeutic, reverting to this primitive conjuration. Soon there was enough to muffle every man to the eyebrows in a thick cocoon of fabric, and all the animals as well.

The animals had worried her, until Ware came up with a solution. As the stories she had heard had hinted, the demons did have a kind of mesmerizing power. Ware used that one of his abilities on the animals, sending them into a trance in which they were three-quarters asleep and completely without fear.

One of the dogs was their test subject; they wrapped it in its swaddling-cloths of conjured fabric, laid it in one of the wagons, and backed the wagon carefully into the midst of one of the biggest tentacle-beasts.

The tentacles groped softly over the wagon, feeling each cranny and crevice blindly. As Xylina held her breath and the men watched with mingled fear and hope, the tentacles moved over the bundled body of the dog.

The dog slept on, oblivious. The tentacles completed their exploration of this new thing that had invaded, then the beast went back to waving them aimlessly in the air. The beast accepted the dog and wagon as it would a rock-or a lemur.

Hazard shouted with tired joy, and the rest joined him in a weak cheer.

"All right," Faro said, as if this were routine. "Let's get the wagons and the animals into the protection of these bigger beasts. Then get yourselves under cover-no more than three to a beast. We can't be sure how effective they are going to be. Hurry it up, now, the sun is setting! Those spiders are likely to be here any moment. If any of you are afraid, let Ware put you in a trance as well; that way you will not tear loose your protection, or be tempted to flee where the spiders may find you."

The men didn't need much urging. Ware put the rest of the dogs and the mules and his horse under his trances. The dogs he placed in the wagon beside the first. The mules and horse he led in himself, and got them to lie down. Then he layered yet more fabric over them as the tentacles groped him and animal with complete impartiality. He left them sleeping and looking like bundles of discarded laundry.

Then it was the turn of the rest. Walking stiffly in their swathings, each of them picked a tentacle beast and moved carefully into its groping embrace. The only exceptions were the three or four men who confessed to being too terrified of the tentacle beasts to remain awake. Those, Ware led in as he had the horse. He got them sitting and then entranced. He left them lying on their sides and snoring happily, oblivious to the tentacles waving over their heads. Xylina was sweating, and not from the heat of her wrappings, as she inched her way toward her chosen beast. She was afraid, too-but she felt that she could not confess it and retain the respect of the men. This was, perhaps, the hardest thing she had ever done. Not even facing Faro in the arena had taken this much nerve.

She paused, just inside the reach of the beast, and waited for it to kill her. But the tentacles passed over her, touching her with surprising gentleness, and finally leaving her alone. She remained where she was for a moment, gathering her nerve, but every heartbeat that passed with the beast leaving her in peace gave her a little more of her courage back. At length she made her way as far in as she could, finally finding a place where the tentacles seemed to meet. She lowered herself stiffly down on the ground beside the base of the beast, with her legs stuck out in front of her, like a doll. She was weary beyond words, and she knew that the men must be just as exhausted. Now they must wait and see if their guess was correct-that the spiders would avoid these beasts, and so leave the party unmolested.

She found that she could see through thin sections of the fabric. She maneuvered to get the best view.

The sunset was glorious, a kaleidoscope of reds and oranges, with swaths of purple near the zenith. The light, fresh breeze that sprang up as it vanished cooled her under all her coverings. She wondered when the first of the spiders would appear. Perversely, she did not want to wait. She would rather know if they were going to be safe, and know it immediately.

Movement at her side made her turn, expecting an attack of some other animal. But it was nothing of the kind.

One of the little golden-furred lemurs approached her cautiously, pushing aside the tentacles with its furred palms. She sensed that if she made any kind of sudden movement, she would frighten it, so she remained completely quiet. It seemed fascinated by her; its huge green eyes were fixed on hers, and the careful grace with which it moved rather surprised her. She had not expected the creatures to be so lithe.

It sidled up to her, and reached out to touch her wrappings, then snatched its hand back quickly, all the while watching her face. When she did not move, and only reacted by making soothing and encouraging nonsense sounds, it ventured another touch. Finally it came to squat beside her, examining her wrappings minutely, but taking extraordinary care not to dislodge them. She was impressed by its intelligence, for obviously it had made the connection between the wrappings and the fact that the tentacles had not harmed her.

"Yes," she told it softly. "Yes, that's right, little creature. I want only to share your home for the night, if you do not mind. I do not want to hurt you, or frighten you. If you will let me stay, I will do nothing to make you unhappy."

The lemur seemed encouraged by this, and settled down at her side, blinking sleepily as the stars came out. After a few moments, she watched it tuck its head down between its knees, and wrap its long arms around its ankles-then the faint sound of snoring told her that it had, without a doubt, gone to sleep, curled in a cat-like ball of fur.

She continued to watch for the spiders, but the confidence the lemur had shown gave her a great deal more heart. She could not imagine the shy and delicate creature dozing off like that, unless it knew it was completely safe.

The mystery of the floating lights was solved, at least; once the sun set, the lights began to appear, but soon descended to within a few cubits of the ground. The owners of the lights were, indeed, a nocturnal cousin of the floating beasts of the day. These were, perhaps, more fantastic in form; they had huge mouths, many of them, or no mouths at all, and long, trailing tendrils beneath them. Some did not even seem to have a head, for they had no mouths or eyes. In fact they looked like a more tenuous version of the tentacle-beasts, with a glowing spot in the very center of them.

Finally, after watching until her eyes ached, she saw the first of the spiders appear, clambering out to hunt beneath the light of the full moon.

It climbed out of the heart of one of the spinach-like plants-and she shuddered as she realized just how close they had been to the horrid monsters all along. And yet- there had been none of the spiders in the heart of the spinach-forest. Did they live only here? Or did competition within the forest preclude their reaching this fantastic size? There was no way of knowing, really. She was just grateful that none of her party had ever disturbed one of the plants during the day.

The spider stalked directly to one of the tentacle-beasts, the one, she thought, that held Faro, and stood just outside of the reach of the tentacles, its mandibles clacking together angrily. It seemed to know that he was there, and it wanted him. But it would not brave the tentacles to get him. At that, her heart rose. She had been right! The spiders were afraid of the tentacle-beasts.

It was joined by another-then more-but they would not venture near enough to the tentacle-beasts to come within reach of the deadly caresses. For now, they seemed to be concentrating on Faro's beast. It occurred to her that perhaps he was moving about, taunting and testing them, taking the danger on himself to prove whether the tentacle-beasts were the safe harbor they hoped.

"Fah! You'd just love to eat me, wouldn't you, ugly!" Faro's voice said cheerfully from somewhere near the center of the beast. "Well, why don't you come in and get me? I've even got a couple of friends here for your dessert!" He made a rude noise, and the spiders danced in rage.

"Faro?" she called, and the spiders swung their attention away, looking for the source of her voice. "Are you doing all right? Don't tease them too much! If you get them too angry, they might rush you!"

"I'm right and tight, little mistress!" he called back, with a laugh. "I don't think you need to worry; I don't think there's anything that could tempt the ugly things into coming within reach of these beasts-you should see the tentacles on this side, waving as if there's a high wind. I think the beasts can sense when there's a spider around, and they are hungry for spider!"

Well,that was certainly comforting! She relaxed a bit more.

"There's a couple of those lemur creatures in here with me," Faro continued. "Cute little things, and they keep trying to offer me fruit or something."

"Don't take it, Faro," Ware said, from somewhere off to Xylina's right. "You don't know what it is. What is fine for them might poison you; we know nothing about this land and what is in it."

"I'd figured that," Faro replied. "I just take it for a minute, then give it back, and that makes them happy." He raised his voice. "Men! I think we've proved we dare to sleep tonight! How about a roll-call before we do?"

One by one the men called out their names, all but the ones already sleeping. All of them were fine, and more than Faro and Xylina seemed to be sharing their accommodations with lemurs. They seemed to be charmed by the golden-furred animals, who had not molested them or interfered with them in any way. Now Xylina was glad that she had discouraged killing or capturing the gentle beasts.

She turned her attention to the weird wilderness about them, and was gladder than ever that they had found this strange sort of shelter. More creatures than just the spiders were appearing to prowl the night under the full moon. There were long things with too many legs to count, covered in jointed armor that shone under the moonlight. There were some things like giant scorpions the size of ponies in faceted shells that glittered like gemstones. Beetles even bigger than the spiders scuttled across the sand like huge moving hills. But all of these alarming monsters avoided the proximity of the tentacle-beasts, and at last even the spiders gave up waiting for the humans to emerge.

The floating animals descended again, and now she saw the reason for the trailing tentacles and huge mouths. Many a battle took place under the moon, as the tentacles snared a giant insect and the floating creature carried its prey up into the sky. Many a beetle was attracted to the light on the nose of a beast, only to be snatched by the huge, toothy mouth. Even the spiders were not immune; Xylina silently cheered on the floating animals as they seized unwary or too-slow spiders and carried them off.

When the last of the arachnids had prowled away, their claw-tips making that dragging sound she had noticed last night, she looked over at her lemur-companion. It was still sound asleep, and her eyelids were getting so heavy she thought that she might as well follow its example.

"Good night, little one," she said, reaching out to stroke its fur as it had stroked her wrappings. Then, curling up in a ball in the sand, and covering her eyes to protect them from groping tentacles, she let her exhaustion overcome her.

She woke at dawn, as the huge insects of the night before were retreating into their hiding places. And this was when she saw how the lemurs earned their safe homes.

Her companion of the night was already awake, and looking alertly about. It was watching the insects, measuringly, although she could not for a moment imagine why.

Then, after a moment, a much smaller spider came ambling by; a spider just a little larger than her mule in the body, although with the legs added it seemed much bigger. The lemur suddenly darted out of cover, before she could do more than cry out in alarm. Why was it doing this? It had no weapons-the spider could move incredibly quickly, as she had learned only too well yesterday. The poor lemur would be devoured before her very eyes!

The spider spotted the potential prey immediately; mandibles clicking in excitement, it turned and ran straight for the lemur. The golden-furred beast paused a moment while Xylina caught her breath; then, at the last possible instant, turned and ran for the safety of the tentacle-beast.

It stayed just barely out of reach of the spider, which redoubled its efforts to catch this tantalizing prey, scuttling across the sand as fast as it could run. And after a few moments, Xylina realized that the lemur was deliberately lagging, to stay out of reach, but only just out of reach, of the spider.

The lemur ran straight back to the shelter of its home. The spider, so intent on the prey that was so very near, ignored its danger until it was too late.

The lemur made a strange, shrilling sound-and the tentacle beast was galvanized.

Xylina ducked as the tentacles lashed out over her head like so many whips. They extended farther than she had guessed, and struck the spider in hundreds of places. The armor protected it everywhere but its eyes and die vulnerable joints, but with so many tentacles lashing out at it, there was no way it could avoid being struck in those places, again and again.

The lemur cowered within the shelter of the beast; the tentacles receded, quieted, and went back to their normal aimless waving. On the sand outside, the spider writhed in its death-throes, mandibles clashing, mouth drooling, legs waving in the air uncontrollably. The tentacle-beast had struck with good effect.

Finally the spider made its last shudder, and lay still.

The lemur got up, cautiously, and sidled up to the dead spider. It tossed a pebble or two at it-perhaps to see if it was really dead-but when it failed to react, the lemur rose and loped boldly over to it.

Then, while Xylina watched in astonishment, the lemur seized one leg and began tugging the dead spider towards its chosen beast.

But the spider was too heavy for the lemur. It gave up after a moment, and looked directly at her.

It couldn't want her to help-could it?

Evidently that was exactly what the lemur wanted, for when she did not move, it came over to her, reached down for her hand, and tugged at her, impatiently.

Well-why not? The lemur had accepted her as a friend with surprising readiness, perhaps on the assumption that she was merely another species of tentacle-beast residents. All of them would have this in common, earning their keep. It behooved her to play the expected role.

She obediently rose and took one leg while the lemur took another. It was not easy, moving in the stiff bundle of wrappings, but it could be done. And after all, she had shared the shelter; it only seemed right that she pay for that shelter. Together, she and the lemur brought the spider within tentacle-touching distance.

It took a moment for one of the aimlessly groping tentacles to connect with the dead spider, but the moment the beast had done so, every tentacle on that side of the beast lashed out, seized on the spider and began dragging it in towards the center of the beast. At that point, the lemur let go, and so did Xylina. The tentacle-beast quickly conveyed the dead spider to its hidden mouth.

Content now, the lemur turned its back on Xylina and retreated into the waving arms on the other side of the beast, and was soon lost to sight.

And she, in her turn, moved out of the reach of the beast to gather her men together. It had been a surprisingly good night.

They spent four more nights this way, sharing the shelter of the tentacle-beasts with the gentle lemurs. Two or three of the boldest men even imitated the lemurs, luring spiders and other predators into reach of the tentacle beasts. The men could not imitate the lemurs' shrill warning to their hosts that "dinner was coming," but they didn't need to; the lemurs themselves saw what they were doing and galvanized their hosts into the appropriate action. Xylina marveled over their reckless courage; they treated it as a game, as if they could not believe in their own vulnerability. Faro pointed out to her that it was all the younger men, and not the ones with any real experience. "They haven't yet learned they aren't immortal," he said wryly. "No matter what they've seen, the fact that they've survived so far makes them certain that the fates and luck are with them."

The more time Xylina spent with her men, learning all about them and their lives, the less able she was to justify her position as "mistress" over her "slaves." What had she done to deserve it, after all? She'd had no more training or schooling than they had; in Faro's case, she'd had less. She was younger than most of them. And what had they done to deserve their fate? That they were not female and full citizens was only an accident of birth. It was not fair....

She spent the next long night, alone but for a drowsing beast, thinking about these things before she fell asleep. There was nothing she had done on this quest that any of the men could not have done, save only a bit of conjuration. How could something like that give her the right to life and death over, not only these men, but any man in Mazonite hands? The word of a single citizen could send any man to the arena unless his mistress protested. Men could not hold property, carry weapons without a permit, defend themselves, or contradict the will of a citizen. Except, of course, within the Freedman's Quarter, and among other men. She could not speak for all men, of course; surely there were lazy slaves, and stupid, and men who needed the firm hand of a mistress to rule them, lest they get themselves into trouble. But the men of this mission deserved better.

She would free them if she could, she thought, as she looked back over her shoulder at them, marching stolidly into the unknown. But these men were not hers to free.

They belonged to the Queen, and several of them felt a very powerful sense of loyalty to their royal mistress. So, in a sense, did Xylina. She "belonged" to Adria, at least until the mission had been fulfilled, and her loyalty had been ensured by her own oaths. And by her honor. That above all must drive her forward. She could afford to indulge her doubts only after the mission was fulfilled.

There seemed no end to this particular realm; no mist-wall appeared on the horizon, and Xylina wondered if they were ever going find their way across this perilous place. But land began to change a little on the third night, the plants and creatures becoming larger and fewer; the third night in this realm, the tentacle-beasts no longer outnumbered the party. They had to share the protection of the house-sized creatures, and somehow Xylina wound up paired with the mules, Ware, and his stallion.

As night fell, she found that she was not in the least sleepy. The inevitable lemurs snored quietly nearby, but the continuing silence between herself and Ware began to feel very strained. Finally she decided to break it.

"Have you ever seen anything like the creatures here before, Ware?" she asked into the darkness.

"Both yes and no," the incubus replied, softly. "Yes, because I have seen beasts with these powers, and of this nature, but no, because the creatures I saw were no larger than the palm of your hand at best. And there was nothing magical about them, nor were they as deadly, except to things their own size."

She made a noncommittal sound, trying to think of a way to continue the conversation. Ware found one for her.

"It is very strange, how magic works across the many realms," he said, as the nocturnal versions of the floating beasts drifted into view. She wondered how the lights were made. It was quite remarkable how often the land-creatures were lured into striking range by those fascinating lights. "I have seen a number of realms, over the years. Including my own, for I am not a native of Mazonia, you know."

"No," she replied. "No, I had no idea-are there demons who are native to my kingdom?" The idea of a demon calling himself a "native" seemed absurd, but where else would they have come from? Had she ever heard where demons came from? If she had, she could not recall; they had simply been part of Mazonia, to be dealt with, but carefully, for they were dangerous. They were allowed most of the freedoms and privileges of a citizen, in exchange for the oaths they swore to the Queen, and that summed up all she had ever known about them, until crossing wits with Ware.

"No, I was born-yes, dear Xylina, we are born-in one of these places of wild magic. Most of us were, in fact-and most of us had no idea what our own nature was, until something revealed it to us. There have not been any demons born since the kingdom of Mazonia was founded, though. Perhaps the change that made your kingdom and conjuration possible ended the conditions that permitted the creation of my kind." He fell silent for a long time, but Xylina had the feeling that it was because he was thinking. "I know that I have told you that in many ways, we are not different from your kind, but I have not told you why we feel this way."

"That is true," she admitted. "And I thought you were mad to say something like that-that is, until we met the Sylvans."

"Ah, the Sylvans." He chuckled for a moment. "No, that is not what I meant. You see, most of us had at one point every reason to believe that we were of your kind. Humans born in the realms of wild magic can have so many things odd about them-everything from extra fingers to extra heads, and powers ranging from conjuration to wingless flight. There seemed no reason in my case to think that I was any different from the humans about me. I thought only that I had a particular talent for dematerialization and for entrancing. No one told me that these were things associated with demon-kind; perhaps no one knew. I thought I was no different from the rest of the folk I knew."

He fell silent again, and Xylina asked the obvious question. "How did you find out differently?"

"Ah," came the reply, "I fell in love, you see."

There was such a bitter sorrow in those few words that Xylina would have left it there. This was the first time Ware had allowed the conversation to drift into the area of the personal. She was not certain she wished to hear or know more. But Ware seemed now determined to continue.

"I fell in love with a human woman-and my nature became-obvious. I was appalled. Horrified. It was a very difficult time for me." He took a deep breath, and let it out in a sigh. She wanted to ask what he meant, but she felt she dared not. Let him reveal what he chose, she decided. If she overstepped the bounds, he might never tell her anything again.

She did not question why she wanted to know these things about him; it was more than simple, or even perverse, curiosity. It was almost as if she had to know.

"I am not a light-minded creature, Xylina," he said, after a moment. "I am not a philanderer. That was why it was so difficult for me. I honestly had not thought about this for a very long time, you know-it was a very painful period, and I often choose to forget it. But I was true to her for as long as she lived-"

"But you outlived her," Xylina was moved to say.

"By more years than you can reckon. I had not thought to find another woman like her." He chuckled dryly. "Then, as I gained in experience, I realized that like every first love, mine was somewhat callow. I would not care for her, if I met her today-though I cared for her deeply then. So then I thought that I would never encounter a woman who could match my somewhat demanding tastes. And for many, many years, I did not. I do not engage in liaisons for amusement, and so I remained without liaisons of any kind. Then, of course..."

He said nothing more, but Xylina knew him well enough by now to fill in what he did not say. He was as honor-bound in his way as she was in hers. He had certain rules-"playing the game," he called it-and he would not violate those rules for any reason.

What this confession meant, then, was that he was telling her something she had not even dreamed of. He had been in love with this unknown woman; presumably she had loved him in turn, never mind that he was a demon. He had said that he was not light of mind or heart; that he did not have affairs simply to assuage his lusts.

It followed, therefore, that not only did he desire Xylina, he was actually in love with her. Not the kind of "love" that a Mazonite male could offer to his mistress, a fawning kind of lap-dog emotion, but something astounding, the love of an equal for an equal.

She did not know what to say, and sat bundled up in her wrappings, trying to find some way to turn the conversation to something more comfortable.

In the end, it was Ware who did just that, telling her tales from his wanderings that almost made her forget what he had revealed. He had a knack for storytelling, and it did not hurt that his experiences of other times and places were fascinating. But when he stopped, out of courtesy, to let her sleep, she found her thoughts going back to his startling revelation.

And she fell asleep wondering just what she was going to do about it.

Finally, the mist-barrier in the distance signaled that they were about to reach a new region, and Xylina put all her speculations aside for the moment. As eager as she was to get out of this realm of giant insects and killing plants, she was reluctant to face a new set of dangers. Yet she had no choice-for the shard lay ahead.

But for once, when the expedition crossed the border, Ware gave a brief exclamation of mingled pleasure and apprehension. Xylina looked at him askance, for there was nothing in this stark landscape to give cause for such an exclamation.

"This is territory that I know," he said. "In fact-it is the same place where I was born. It has moved, of course; I did not expect to find it here-but I think we can be certain that it is the same."

Xylina wondered what it was that made him so certain; Ware himself had said that realms that looked familiar would often have changed in ways both unexpected and deadly. Still, she was not going to argue with him just now.

The land immediately in front of them was a hilly grassland, with never a sign of trees or bushes. The grasses were waist-high, and rippled in a brisk wind, green and silvery-grey. Yellow-gold, white, and pink flowers dotted the sea of grass, and closer to the ground many herbacious plants filled in among the tall, slender grass stems. There was nothing in sight but grass for as far as Xylina could see, but she did not trust her eyes. In land like this, entire villages could be hidden in a fold between the hills, and they would not know one was there until they stumbled on it.

That was, in essence, exactly what Ware told them. "The magic in this realm is confined to the people and their domesticated beasts, and not the plants or the wild things. There is much conflict in this realm; virtually every tiny enclave of humans is at war with every other enclave, and they trust outsiders no more than they would trust their familiar enemies. We are as much at peril here as we were among the beasts behind us. More."

Xylina nodded, slowly. "So, we must trust no one, and nothing, is that it?"

Ware nodded his agreement, and she sighed. "Well then-which way are we to go?"

Faro consulted the instruments that Ware had entrusted to him, and pointed off into the entirely trackless grassland. Xylina considered the lack of roads, and the supplies that they had left.

"Can the wagons go through this?" she asked Horn.

He considered the grass. "I think so," he replied. "Don't hold me to it, though. That stuff might get tangled up in the axles, and if we have to cut the wagons loose every couple of cubits, we might as well not have them."

"All right. Men," she said, projecting her voice so that it would carry to the rear of the column, "we're going to try taking the wagons across this, but if they can't make it through, we will have to leave them. If that happens, we will load all the beasts with as much as they can carry, and ourselves as well. Faro, Ware and I will march with you, in that case. But for now, we will try to keep them with us."

There were nods, and expressions of relief among the men. Xylina did not blame them; she was not looking forward to walking, with or without a pack.

There seemed nothing else to say, so without another word, Xylina led them off, her mule pushing through the grass as if he were swimming.