The Wizard of Karres

CHAPTER 31

The Leewit woke, shivering and hungry. It was bad enough that it was cold, and dark, and that she was alone, but the thin rain that had started to fall seemed just too much to her. No one could hear her snuffle, so she did. But she wasn't going to stay out here in the rain. So she started trying to find a way off the roof of Castle Aloorn, that didn't involve going straight down a long, long way. As worn out and hungry as she was, she was afraid to try levitating even for a short distance, much less that great drop to the ground below. Levitation was a new klatha skill for the Leewit, and she still wasn't as good at it as her sister Goth.

The answer seemed to be to climb into a skylight. A different skylight.

The problem was that most of them seemed to be shut from the inside. It took her a long time to find one that wasn't. And then to climb in with her hands so cold they were almost numb.

Inside it was gloriously warm. The ledge up here wasn't as narrow and uncomfortable as the last one, but there was no point in staying on it. Carefully, the Leewit started climbing down. As usual, there were loads of shelves on the walls, full of glass and crystal. She had a very difficult time descending without kicking something off, especially since she was sorely tempted to smash everything in sight anyway. But the room she'd climbed into seemed to be empty, and it wouldn't be smart to make any noise.

When she finally reached the floor and looked around, dim light filtering from panels left the whole place a rather ghostly blue. Kind of eerie, in fact. But the Leewit decided that the place was as good as any to hide out. It was warm and dry, if nothing else, and there might just be some food somewhere.

"Maybe in one of those jars or bottles," she murmured to herself. "Clumping stuff has to be good for something."

* * *

"The night-rain has washed away the scent," growled Pul. "And I do not like being up here."

Pausert could see why. The roof of the castle sloped steeply, and the slope was treacherous in places. The thought of the Leewit wandering around up here in the dark made his blood run cold. Blessedly, the High Lord's guards hadn't found Pausert's worst fear, a small broken body on the ground far below. And they'd now searched everywhere she might have fallen, so apparently she hadn't.

The Leewit was just missing. She wasn't responding to their shouts, either. But there were any number of the chimneylike skylights and odd towers sprouting from the top of the castle.

"She could be hiding anywhere," said Goth tiredly, leaning against him. "When Hantis said those skylight things opened for ventilation, I was pretty happy. Now, I almost wish they didn't. The Leewit can get herself into impossible places."

Despite his simmering anger, the captain had to fight down a smile at the cross tone in Goth's voice. As if she never got into any such predicaments!

Hantis came across to them. "Come. We must go within. The High Lord Arvin will call a council and get everyone to help look for her. And, besides, you look all in. You both need food."

"You're pretty chummy with this High Lord Arvin now," said Goth, eyeing the Sprite. "He tried to kill all of us, remember?"

"It was a misunderstanding," said Hantis, quietly. "We fell over our mutual pride. I assumed too much. And High Lord Arvin did not send us to the Imnbriahn-des-sahrissa. That was his advisor, Lord Nalin."

"But that was the name of the boss of the little old guy who came to rescue us!"

"Yes." Hantis' eyes were cold. "The same Lord Nalin. Who also claimed that we were assassins from Delaron. In whose apartments Pul smelled Nanite exudates. While Arvin was unconscious, Lord Nalin ordered us executed as spies and murderers because that would help to fan the fires he's trying to start. When objections were raised in the council, Nalin sent his servant to free us and send us fleeing to Delaron. The High Lord is actually the only one who can pass the death sentence, so Arvin sent his guards for us. Only we'd escaped, which made us look guilty and Lord Nalin seem to have been correct. That was why I put us in the position of honorable prisoners."

"So what's all this got to do with the Leewit's kidnapping?" asked Goth.

"We don't know," admitted the Sprite woman. "Come. Let us eat and contemplate our next move. Good Sprite food may help me to think properly, anyway. I've had to reassess my ideas about history."

"Apparently so," said the captain wryly. "I thought you said that this Arvin was the greatest villain in your history?"

"It appears that history blamed the wrong person. It appears that the greatest villain in the history of Nartheby may be . . . me. Come. I will explain while we eat. The High Lord needs to marshal his soldiers. Nalin has gathered many adherents, some of whom may be Nanite controlled."

Down inside the castle, sitting at a construction of glass and silver on velvety upholstered translucent chairs, Pausert realized that the holding chambers they'd been put in were probably the Sprite equivalent of the cell he'd been put into on Pidoon. The food wasn't the usual breakfast fare for humans. The ice-crystal layers of sweet and tart and definitely alcoholic stuff wasn't anything Pausert had encountered. Neither, really, were the thin nutty-tasting pancakes and deep purple jelly. But they were very welcome, nonetheless, and they were certainly easier to digest than Hantis' explanations.

"Don't you see? The Nanites are doing precisely what they are trying to do in the Empire in our time: decapitate. At this stage, their numbers are probably very few. They take control of key individuals. Ones like Lord Nalin, whose position makes them powerful but whom few people really know well. The Nanites can take over the body of the victim, but the behavior and mannerisms change. So: the Nanites must either take over a whole group, which is difficult for them at this stage, or someone like Nalin. He has been away from Castle Aloorn for some twenty years, as a governor of one of the outlying dominions."

"You think this is what we're facing in the Empire too, then," said the captain, spooning the fragrant purple jelly onto yet another pancake. "So why are we trying to reach the Empress Hailie? She's a well-known recluse. The Empire only sees her twice a year. I would have thought that she would be the perfect Nanite victim. She still wields a lot of power."

"That would be correct, except that Hailie disappears. Between official engagements, the Empress goes . . . somewhere. She tours her Regency anonymously. She's been the unofficial friend of Karres for some years now. The best premote-teams on Karres predicted that the only chance of defeating the Nanite plague was to reach Hailie first, and provide her with information and protection. If necessary I am empowered to call for certain drastic steps."

Hantis looked grim. "I've never explained the details, Captain, but the plague wars were the worst episode in our history. High Lord Arvin destroyed any ship incoming to Nartheby—even when they appeared to be full of refugees."

She took a deep breath. "He was renowned for his brutal efficiency in disposing of enemies here on Nartheby. They were always incinerated, as were their homes. It was a technique he put to use against the Nanite-possessed in the later phases of the war, when we Sprites set out to destroy the Nanites."

"Is there any other way?"

"Not a really effective one, no," admitted Hantis. "Grik-dog venom affects all those in the host. But the environment they are found in should still burn. A colony of several thousand could be hiding behind a grain of sugar on the floor. But we did not know . . . I suppose—it makes sense, now—that it was always kept secret that Nanites had reached Nartheby's surface. I am afraid that Arvin did what was necessary, and shouldered the blame. He is a braver and better Sprite than I could ever be, but I must have been the one who told him it was the right method to use, and that it had to be done. He's young and scared; and, in truth, quite gentle. He wants nothing more than peace with his neighbors. He has to act the part of the arrogant High Lord to hide the fact."

The captain struggled to absorb it all. "So, this all happened in your history. Arvin, the shrimpy little Sprite, turned into what you thought of as a monster and dealt with the problem. Is that why the vatch brought you here?"

"No. I think vatches understand humans and time imperfectly. The vatch brought me here because Arvin was the worst thing in my mind. He is also an ancestor of mine. The vatch, I think, thought it would be funny if I killed him. Because then I would not have existed either. In which case, how could I have killed him?"

"Great Patham!" exclaimed Goth. "A sort of impossible loop. Stinking critter! It just wanted to see what would happen."

Hantis smiled. "Yes. Unfortunately, I don't know exactly what I did in history because records from that time are very poor. But if you want loops . . . well, I think the vatch outsmarted itself. An impossible loop is, after all, impossible. So it will be replaced by loops which aren't. Just to name one: I believe Pul is off fraternizing with High Lord Arvin's lady grik-dogs. The origin of grik-dogs with anti-Nanite venom and the ability to smell out Nanites comes from Arvin's breeding program, you know."

"You mean Pul's his own great-grandfather?" demanded Goth, laughing. "That's not exactly 'fraternizing.' "

Hantis nodded and smiled. "It's quite a bit further removed than that. But, yes."

"And Pul is the end product of a long breeding program. It does beg the question of where the first Nanite-killing grik-dog came from," said Pausert. "But right now I am more interested in finding the Leewit, and somehow getting back to our own mission and own Nanite fight."

"If we can get her back at all," said Hantis, biting her lip. "The gnyarl caught one of those who kidnapped her. A Sprite called Luwis who owned the apartment. Unfortunately, he won't be talking to anyone. But the Leewit definitely wasn't with him. They think the other two may have dodged back into the castle."

Captain Pausert rubbed his temples thoughtfully. "So they're still on the loose, the Nanites are here and can only be destroyed, with difficulty, and the Leewit is still missing."

He rose abruptly to his feet. "At least we've had a good breakfast. And I can still rell a hint of that blasted big vatch. If it would get closer . . ."

Goth stood up from the elegant table. "Old Nasty-Vatch has been caught before, I reckon. He's not going to come close enough, Captain. He's watching us from a distance."

"Then we'll have to go vatch hunting," said the captain grimly. "In the meantime, we have a Leewit hunt to organize."

Goth grinned. "Catching a vatch might be easier."

Her confidence cheered Pausert up. His worst fear, now that it was clear the Leewit hadn't fallen to her death, was that her abductors might have murdered her and hidden the body somewhere. But that dark thought was difficult to maintain in the presence of Goth. The girl had a way of projecting serenity, somehow.

As his greatest worry faded, a smaller one finally had the chance to push its way forward.

"Oh," said the captain guiltily. "We'd better ask our hosts to release old Vezzarn."

"Oops. Hadn't thought of that either, Captain," admitted Goth.

Pausert yawned. "Well, at least he got some sleep last night, even if I'll bet his breakfast wasn't as good as ours."

* * *

The Leewit, however, was enjoying a far more varied and even bigger breakfast. Moreover, she had two new . . . well, friends was the wrong word. Young Sprites who had the delusion that a fascinating new pet had wandered into their chambers. It could even talk! Far better than their dolls, although it was the oddest looking creature they'd ever seen. And it could play games and do all sorts of tricks!

They'd successfully hidden her from their nursebeast and their parents, so far. And then they'd raided the larder to see what their new pet would eat.

Now that the Leewit had a full stomach, she was beginning to think about how she could get out of here. And it was going to be less easy than just getting out of prison had been. It was not that the two little Sprites were cruel. Well, not on purpose. They were just a great deal stronger than humans of that size would be. Stronger than she was, for sure, and quite happy to tug at their new toy, now that they'd fed it. The worst part was when they insisted on dressing her in Sprite clothes.

They would be adamant that she wasn't going out of their sight, obviously.

"Look," said the Leewit in desperation, "Let's play cards."

"What's 'cards'?" demanded the two little Sprites, almost in unison.

So the Leewit had to fish out the Agandar's cards, have them peered at, and examined. Fortunately, she always carried them with her. The Leewit considered boredom the worst peril in the universe, but as long as you had cards you could always fend off the monster by playing solitaire.

"Hey! You can't eat them. You play with them. Here I'll show you. Do you know Snap? No of course you don't. Look, here, I'll deal them."

Their names turned out to be Lisol and Ta'himmin. Fortunately, they were quick to learn the rules of the game. Mostly, though, they just seemed to love the cards themselves. The Leewit had looked at the pictures on the cards, of course. But the Sprites noticed the tiniest details. They picked up the patterns around the edges, and Ta'himmin was scathing about the fact that each had an error.

"My father makes inlays," said the littler Sprite proudly. "His edge-patterns are always the same all the way around!"

"Play," said his sister. "The thing's cards are thing-made, little brother. 'Course they won't be as good as papa's."

The game was noisy, cheerful and did not manage to distract the Leewit from the fact that she had to somehow get out of here and rescue Goth and the captain. And old Vezzarn, Hantis and Pul, of course. At least, in the hooded Sprite cloak and tunic, she could pretend that she was a Sprite. Even if Lisol and Ta'himmin thought blond hair was hilarious, the Sprites couldn't see it under the hood.

* * *

The young High Lord Arvin had underestimated two things. First, the depth of support that Nalin had gathered around him. And secondly, just how effective Lord Nalin's spy network was.

There was no element of surprise on their side, when they marched up, with Pul in the lead, towards the wing that Lord Nalin had made his own. Actually, it was High Lord Arvin who walked into an ambush. The High Lord had been still-doubtful and had been beginning to question his own judgment. The small band of his guard that accompanied him were not really prepared to fight.

The firefight turned nasty almost immediately, as Nalin's team of ambushers had the advantage of a good solid barricade. Then Arvin stood up and traced a pattern on the air . . . and part of the barricade burst into flame and then fell into dust. Before the dust had settled Arvin's troops were sprinting forward, firing at their now unprotected and shocked foes.

"Push on hard and fast!" yelled the captain, without thinking that the High Lord's troops would not understand a word he said, or take orders from someone who had been a prisoner until the middle of the previous night. He ran forward and picked up one of the fallen Sprites' projectile weapons, trying to figure out just how it worked.

But Arvin, who had looked doubtful about the entire exercise a few moments before, was giving orders himself. He was only a shrimp-size Sprite, but he could do a giant-size job of bellowing, thought the captain.

Instead of chasing after Lord Nalin's fleeing loyalists, the guards began taking up defensive positions. One of them roughly hauled the captain down beside him. Pausert turned and was surprised to see the High Lord was striding back the way they'd come, accompanied by half a dozen of the guards.

"He has gone to raise the alarm," Hantis explained quietly. "To sound the Warcall of Aloorn. Only the High Lord himself can do that. History reached many inaccurate conclusions about Arvin: But one thing no one ever accused him of was personal cowardice. There will be more resistance ahead. Fierce fighting. We are too few for that. Arvin will be back soon, at the head of his soldiers. He had a reputation for remaining calm in battles, although he had a terrible temper. I see that much at least was true."

Things were relatively quiet for a time, with occasional probing shots coming from further up. Then they heard a horn blowing. A sort of wild tantivity which seemed to echo through the very material of the castle itself. The captain saw that Hantis' back straightened as it sounded. And then, within a moment, the attack came from the Nanites. There were several hundred of them firing on the handful of Arvin's guards that had been left to hold this place.

"What made them attack?" asked Goth.

"That was the Warcall of Aloorn," said Hantis. "The shutters have come down with it. Now, the enemy cannot flee the castle. Their only chance is to fight."

"Well, they're doing that all right." The captain looked speculatively at Goth. "I think I need to shield you again, child."

Goth looked speculatively back at him. "Sure, Captain. If you stand behind me."

Pausert suddenly had an idea. "Hantis. Are these men armed with some form of grenade?"

She nodded and pointed to things that looked like Indian clubs on the belt of the nearest guard.

"Could you 'port those, Goth? I'll shield you and you 'port those around the far corner up there."

Now Goth grinned. "Sure, Captain. You can even push me forward like a screen while I do it."

Pausert traced the klatha patterns with his mind. "I think we'll settle for just holding this place until Hantis' nasty ancestor gets back."

"He's not so bad, Captain. Pul likes hi . . ." Goth was in her shield. A grenade vanished from the guard's belt. Nothing happened.

"I think they have to be armed first," explained Hantis, speaking hastily to one of the guards. He took a Sprite-grenade off his belt and twisted the base, and held it up. It vanished from his grip. An explosion occurred further up the passage. The other Sprites began doing the same for Goth.

* * *

Deep in the castle, the Leewit was getting desperate to get out of her new quasi-captivity when a strange wild horn-call sounded, echoing through the walls. The Sprite children dropped the cards, and their green catlike eyes widened. "What's that?" asked the Leewit warily. There were distant clanging noises, now.

"The Warcall!" said Lisol, looking terrified. "It means the castle is being attacked."

"Great Patham!" said the Leewit, irritably collecting her precious cards and stowing them in a pocket. "Stupid clumping place—can't even play cards in peace. I think I'd better go, little 'uns."

"You can't," said Ta'himmin. "Shutters are down. We're all supposed to go to the Star-hall, now. With Mamma and Pappa if they are here or else with the nursebeast."

Sure enough, the nursebeast arrived. There was no time for the Leewit to hide, and besides there seemed little point. The creature looked about as dangerous as belly-button fluff. It was big, furry and distinctly cuddly. The two little Sprites flung themselves on it and clutched it.

"Come, Leewit," commanded Lisol. "We must go."

The huge fluffy beast didn't seem worried by an extra person in with its charges. It just fussed them towards the door, snuffling anxiously to itself.

Out in the passage, where she'd been trying to get for the last hour, the Leewit realized things were even more serious than she'd realized. The passage was occupied by several armed and nasty looking Sprites. "Get back! Get back into your chambers!" yelled one. Further down the passage something exploded.

But the nursebeast was determined to see her charges through to the right place, no matter what explosions happened or orders anyone gave. She hooted mournfully and ambled forward.

One of the Sprites shot her. The nursebeast squealed in surprise and pain.

The two little Sprites shrieked and clung to her.

"Get out of here!" yelled the shooter. "Go. Back to your chambers, before I shoot you too!"

A moment before the Leewit had been really frightened. Now she was just mad clear through. She didn't even think about which whistle to use. That one busted up machinery something awful.

And . . . that gun would never fire again. The Sprite who'd been holding it was hopping around, clutching his hand and hissing. "Quick," said the Leewit. "Hold my hands, you two. Let's get them under nursebeast and carry her back."

Scared, the two little ones did their best. But the big fluffy creature was heavy, and bleeding. And there were more Sprites coming. The Leewit whistled again.

* * *

Behind the remains of the barricade, Pausert heard a familiar high-pitched whistle. It was like having his ears pricked with a hot needle. And it was on the wrong side of the barricade! Then the second whistle . . .

The captain seemed to detect a terrible urgency in that whistle. He reached into himself, knowing there was desperate need and knowing that klatha power came not when you wanted it, but when you were ready for it. He pictured the Leewit in his mind: a little blond waif, her cold gray eyes staring at him, and began to weave the klatha pattern around her. She seemed larger than he'd envisaged, so he made space. He didn't want to accidentally cut pieces of the Leewit off, so he made the pattern include all that was alive. And then, pattern completed, he picked up his Sprite-rifle and began running forward. He was unaware that the rest of the little outpost had followed him, or that more Sprites were coming up behind that, led by a shrimp with attitude. All the captain knew was that he wasn't going to be stopped short of the Leewit. Goth's 'porting of grenades had kept heads down ahead of them.

Now, as Lord Nalin's cohorts put their heads up, they found themselves facing what seemed to be a wave of fury. Sprites are more klatha-sensitive than most humans. The creature running towards them, one of the survivors later said, seemed at least fifteen feet tall and as unstoppable as an avalanche. And they were already rattled by the exploding grenades that had appeared from nowhere.

Afterwards the captain admitted that he'd even forgotten to fire, while he was running forward.

Those behind him made up for it.

Lord Nalin's loyalists were not all Nanite-infected. Few of them were, actually. These were just foot soldiers following their lord's orders, who really didn't want to be there at all, fighting the High Lord. They turned and fled. Some of them fell over the barrier of the large cocoon shielding Leewit, two little Sprites and a huge furry beast of some kind. The beast was wounded and bleating plaintively.

The captain got there, and, as he stopped, Arvin's Sprites surged past. There were several hundred of them, and High Lord Arvin was in the van. So was Hantis, accompanied by Pul. A panting Vezzarn and two other Sprites he'd co-opted came up with a makeshift stretcher—and Goth, still in her own shield cocoon.

Catching his breath, the captain decided that the Leewit could wait until he'd liberated Goth. If he could lipread she was saying some pretty awful things, and he didn't know if the Sprites had soap anyway.

Calming himself slowly and deliberately, the captain retraced the pattern that shielded Goth.

"What did you leave me behind for, Captain?" she demanded as she bounced to her feet. "You agreed to stay behind me." It was one of the few times he'd ever seen Goth hopping mad. She even stamped her foot. "What's the point of me staying around until I'm marriageable age if you're going to do STUPID things like that!"

"Er," said Pausert. "The Leewit was in trouble."

Goth was not mollified. "The Leewit's always in trouble." Crossly, Goth glanced at her little sister. "I'd say leave her in there, out of trouble for a change. Save us all some grief. Except those two Sprites seem to want to get to the others that are in with her." She pointed to two anxious Sprites who were trying reach into the shield cocoon.

Pausert realized they were trying to get to the two small Sprites in there, and that the Leewit was signing frantically at him.

He took a deep breath and retraced that pattern too.

Instantly the passage was overwhelmed by yelling.

"Captain!" The Leewit tugged at his sleeve. "The nursebeast's been shot!" She dragged him towards the fluffy thing.

It was definitely bleeding and in pain. He knelt beside it and parted the rich fur, looking for the wound. "Give me the vibro-razor, Vezzarn. Let me just cut the fur clear, here."

He did, exposing the entry-wound. The beast turned its long neck to try and peer at it. Its beery-brown eyes had a look of entreaty that made Pausert feel terribly helpless. Goth and the Leewit were kneeling beside him. So, on the other side of the fluffy creature, were two small Sprites and what were apparently their parents. Sprite soldiers streamed around them as the captain felt around the wound cautiously, wishing he knew more about first aid and more about alien physiology. At a guess, the creature had a bullet lodged in its lung—if it was built like the creatures he was familiar with.

"The bullet will have to come out."

Goth took a deep breath. "I can do that, I think." She closed her eyes, briefly. "Here, Captain." She held out a bloody metal fragment.

"I think I can still the pain and stop the bleeding," said a voice from the Leewit's mouth. It didn't sound like the Leewit, but more like her older sister Maleen. Captain Pausert realized that the Leewit was calling up her sister's pattern to guide her through some piece of unfamiliar klatha. "But I'll need to borrow from you two."

"Sure," said Goth, gruffly. "So long as you fix it. I ought to give you a good thumping later, you idiot. The captain and I have been worried stiff about you. And you nearly got him killed."

"You and what clumping army?" the Leewit jibed. "Just 'cause you're sweet on him! Take more than a few silly Sprites to hurt the captain, anyway. Now help me with the nursebeast. We can fight later."

Goth smiled mistily at her sister. "Just you wait. Now, draw away. This is what they premoted you'd be good at one day."

"What must I do?" asked the captain.

"Just hold her shoulders. And when she needs your strength, let her have it."

"I'll do my best," he said, a bit uncertainly. He knew it wasn't physical strength she wanted.

The Leewit began to glow. Her hands, wrapped in the nursebeast's fur, looked like little torches of warm redness that seemed to be sinking into the animal. The captain felt himself being drawn on . . . and gave. The nursebeast gave an odd sort of hooting whinny and stuck a long pink wet tongue out and licked the little Sprites and the Leewit. Then the fluffy head sank down. The little Sprites gave unmistakably heartbroken cries.

The Leewit said something, tiredly. Even if they weren't human, there was no mistaking the incredulity on the faces of the Sprite parents. And hope on the faces of the little ones.

"I told them she's going to be all right now, with some rest. I think we did the trick, Captain. I could use some rest myself. Can you give us a hand to carry her into their home?"

And then the littlest witch hugged him fiercely, and so did Goth, and Captain Pausert, once of the Republic of Nikkeldepain, suddenly felt very good about the universe and his place in it.

Pausert took one side, Vezzarn and the male Sprite the other; joining hands, they lifted the fluffy thing and carried it down the passage, while the little Sprites, the Leewit and the mother rushed ahead and opened a door into what the captain presumed was the Sprites' apartment. They three carried the nursebeast into a small entirely soft-upholstered room and put it down.

"I guess I'll skip whopping her," said Goth. Her little sister had flopped onto a chair, with the small Sprites on either side. The Leewit looked tired and pale. "This time, anyway."

The Leewit beckoned. "Hey. I've asked them for some food."

"Better make it something we can eat on the run," said Goth. "We've got to catch up with Hantis before she does something silly. She's very taken up with this High Lord Arvin. And we've still got a job to do for Karres, getting her and Pul to the Imperial court before the Winter Carnival."

The Leewit sighed. "I guess. I'll just ask for a few of the meat-roll things, then. They're pretty good and we can eat those while we go."

There followed a high speed exchange in the Sprite language. The two little Sprites were still clinging onto the Leewit, from whom they had to be pried away by their parents.

"I said we'd see them and explain later. And thanks for the food," said the Leewit. "Phew. I hadn't realized what hard work it is not to be the youngest."

Once they got back into the corridor, it was easy to work out where to go. There was a steady stream of armed Sprites heading in one direction. Word must have gotten around, too, because no one tried to stop the human party. They ate as they walked. The captain found he was both ravenous and tired and was grateful to his professional beggar "niece." She must have done a fair job of cleaning out the Sprite family's pantry, as well as expropriating some of their children's clothes.

Nalin had apparently retreated into the upper reaches of the castle. As they got higher, it became apparent that they were catching up on the fighting, and that it had been fierce. Burned areas showed that the High Lord had been forced to make his own path forward. The air stank of smoke, fear, and the coppery smell of Sprite blood.

Captain Pausert began to wonder if he should perhaps have left Goth and the Leewit with the grateful Sprite family. But the Leewit reassured him. "They say it's all over. A small party cut their way out through the shutters and the rest are dead or captive. And the High Lord and the foreign Lady are still alive. Oh. And Pul bit someone."

Pul had indeed bitten someone. Lord Nalin had not been one of those who got away. The Sprites moved aside to allow the captain through to Hantis and the High Lord Arvin.

"They say you're a hero, Captain," said Hantis. Her brown face had sooty smudges and a shallow scratch on it. "That you charged the barricades alone."

"You know the captain thinks he has to look after us . . ." Goth's voice trailed off, and it was hardly surprising. Lord Nalin was on the ground in a circle of nervous Sprite-soldiers. He was jerking and twitching, and something that looked like gray dust was spilling out of him.

"Poisoned Nanites," said Hantis grimly.

"And the others? Was he the only one infected?" asked the captain, both fascinated and revolted.

"No. At least seven of them got away. They fled in the direction of Delaron." There was no expression in Hantis' voice. "We also have the infected but not yet controlled ones."

She patted High Lord Arvin on the shoulder. "High Lord, this one is safe. But we must deal with the others. We must sterilize their nest." She turned back to Pausert, Goth, the Leewit and Vezzarn. "Come. See what we're up against."

They went through into an adjoining room. This did not look like it was a home—even a war-smashed home—of the detail and decor-conscious Sprites. Instead the glass and bric-a-brac with which the Sprites filled every spare corner had been carelessly swept together. Glass, gold, silver, gems and crystal lay broken and jumbled in a trash pile.

On the floor lay some twenty-seven Sprites. Males. Females. Even a child. Their bodies convulsed every now and again. Their eyes were open . . . and empty.

* * *

Hantis saw how the High Lord started when he saw the infected ones.

Then he gave a cry of horror and would have run into the room, if Hantis had not restrained him. "You don't understand," he said frantically, trying to pull away from her hands. "Hantis, that is Neirion there! We must help her! We are betrothed."

"No, my Lord Arvin," said Hantis. "It is you who do not understand. That was your betrothed. Now she is just a crawling mass of Nanites."

"But we must get them out of her! We must."

"We can't. We have found no way of doing so. Not without killing the victim. Anyway, it is already too late." She spoke as gently as she could, knowing full well that it was this moment that had transformed the gentle young Arvin into Arvin Warmaker, who had half-destroyed Nartheby to save it. And been cursed by generations unborn for his goodness and greatness.

"You must destroy this with your klatha power. Destroy all of Lord Nalin's chambers. Sterilize everything with cleansing fire. It is the greatest—the only—mercy you can give to those infected."

Hantis saw the anguish in the young High Lord's face. "I can't!"

"High Lord Arvin. Unless you would see all Aloorn, and indeed all Nartheby like that, you must. Our dominions are already lost. Without you, we are, too." She paused. "And you do have the strength. Three thousand years later we still remember that you did."