If I Pay Thee Not In Gold

• Chapter 13

In the morning, there were vague prints of unidentifiable creatures all around their stockade, and the giant plants were still there, unchanged. The huge leaf garden was still so dense that Xylina could not see more than a cubit or two into it, and was still refusing to disclose its secrets. "I don't like this," Xylina said, frowning at the "spinach-forest" (or whatever it was), as the men packed up their belongings and stowed them in the wagons. "There's no way to tell what's in there. There could be anything, monsters or mansions, or things we can't even recognize."

The men looked tired this morning, as if they had not slept well. Of course the myriad strange noises coming from beyond their rock-stockade could have accounted for that. But she had the feeling that there had been many eyes peering into the darkness last night, thinking about Kyle, tossing restlessly, agonizing over their first casualty. Xylina had not slept well herself; she kept starting up at every shriek or scream, every howl and bark, expecting monsters to come swarming over her rock palisade at any moment. Wondering if there had been anything she could have done to prevent the tragedy. She had wished more than ever for the comfort of close company, and wondered whether Ware was similarly discomfited.

"I agree with you about this place," Faro replied, running a hand through his hair. "I agree entirely. This is the best place for an ambush I've ever seen. I wish there was some way to mow the stuff down."

Ware led his stallion up beside them, the handsome beast picking its way carefully across the stones of the "rock garden" territory, his hooves making little clicking sounds against the rocks and thudding dully into the sand-pockets.

Faro turned to the demon as he got within speaking distance. "I don't suppose you recognize this, do you?" he asked, without hope. "Have you or any of your people seen this kind of territory before?"

Ware stared at the forest for a moment, then nodded, slowly. "Actually, I do recognize this place," he said. "Although it wasn't here at this spot the last time I passed this way-it was growing up against the border where the Sylvan Thorn-Wall is now. If this kind of growth is the same thing I remember, we should have some warning before anything attacks us. As I recall, the creatures here are large and cumbersome, and they make a great deal of noise." But the longer Ware spoke, the less certain he sounded.

"But I also remember what you told us yesterday; that these things can change a lot, even from year to year," Xylina replied cautiously. "I don't think we can trust anything, not even old memories, or things that look safe." She shook her head. "I think we should assume that we can assume nothing. We should figure that this is nothing like the place you knew, and go from there."

Ware nodded, agreeing with her; so did Faro. She turned back to look at the growth. It really did look like some kind of giant vegetable patch. What kind of menace could be lurking in there? Giant rabbits?

For a moment that seemed hysterically funny, until she remembered that when things grew that large, even herbivores, they could be just as dangerous as any carnivore. And an animal that looked like an herbivore might not be one.

A rabbit the size of an elephant could easily bite the head off a man. And the fur, proportionally thick, could defend it against arrows and even spears to some extent. Suddenly the idea of giant rabbits was no longer so funny.

There appeared to be a road, or the remains of one, passing into the foliage a little to the right of their camp.

That would be the only place the wagons would be able to pass-but a road meant a place where humans had been; if there were any bandits about, they would know that the place for ambush was the road. If there were any predators big enough to take down a man, they might have learned the same thing.

Still, if they were to have the wagons with them there would be little choice. "It looks to me as if we should go in there," she said, pointing. "What do you think the proper order of march should be?"

"Divide the men equally," Faro replied. "Half in front of the wagons, and half behind. Ware to take the foremost position, myself the rearmost, and you in the middle. Ware has some magics that are likely to be useful if we're attacked, and he is an expert marksman on a trained horse. I'm a trained fighter. That takes care of two vulnerable positions."

She raised an eyebrow. "That hardly seems fair," she retorted. "You're putting me-"

"No, I'm not," Faro said, completely seriously. "If there are bandits, they'll strike at the weak middle-or what they think is the weak middle. You'll be guarding the wagons from attack from the side. We won't be able to see a damned thing in that muck. If you take a hit in the middle of the train, Ware and I won't know it until you've already engaged. There's just too much damned green stuff; it's going to block our view. In fact, I'm not certain I would be able to find my way through this garbage without going in circles."

"Which is where I come in," Ware picked up smoothly. He smiled at Xylina. "Faro and I discussed this in Sylva when he pointed out he was just trusting to the road, and had no way of knowing if we were going in die right direction. We have a compass with us, and I know how to use it. We also have other navigational aids, and I can use them, as well. We simply haven't needed them until now, but I knew that eventually we would. So I made certain we had them, and that I could use them."

"Well, that's good, because I can't," Xylina replied, just a little irritated. Why hadn't he mentioned this before? Had he planned all along on trotting this little prize out, taking his bow, and waiting for the applause? She would much rather have had a chance to learn to use these things herself. "And I think you'd better start teaching us. What if you got swallowed by a giant snake or something?"

Ware had the audacity to laugh. She stared at him, a little affronted. "You're quite right," he said, agreeably. "I am not in danger of getting swallowed; I would simply dematerialize and walk out. But I have been remiss; I should have been instructing you and Faro all along. And since I have begun this so late, I think the first lesson should be this very moment."

He removed the compass and the other instruments from his saddlebags, and proceeded to instruct them in the use of all of them. There were instruments to take a direction from the angle of the sun, others to do the same from the stars, and charts and maps of all kinds. Soon she was immersed in calculations and complex geometries. The compass was easy enough, but Xylina despaired at ever mastering the astrolabe and the other complex instruments, although Faro seemed to grasp the way of dealing with them at once.

Finally, she decided that she had learned all that she would for the moment. There were other things she could do that would be more profitable. She left the two of them conferring over readings, content for the moment to leave their navigation in the hands of Faro and the demon. She had another potential situation to deal with.

Yesterday they had experienced their first casualty. Kyle was dead, and there would be no bringing him back. The threat to this expedition was now no longer an abstract notion, but a reality. Men who had been cheerful and cavalier about the danger were not laughing this morning. Now they knew, viscerally, that they could die, that they could be hurt. Now this was no longer a game, a pleasure trip, an entertaining trek through strange lands.

They had been talking, quietly, of the rewards they expected to enjoy at the end of this quest. She had heard them, and Faro had reported more of the same. Rewards seemed of little import now, when the cost of the attack had been a life. They must be having second and third thoughts by now, after a long and perhaps sleepless night.

Now her position as leader was at its most precarious. The men might be tempted to desert, and she was in no position to try to stop them. She was not part of an army, and she was the only commander this group had. The cost of attempted desertion was death, under normal circumstances. This was not "normal." There was no point in killing a deserter; that would only create bad feelings and resentment, and might even cause desertions. Actually, in these circumstances, the terrain might cause the deserters to die anyway. No, she had to somehow make it clear to the men that they were all in this situation together, and that their safety lay in loyalty to one another and trust in her ability to lead them.

She was not entirely certain how to do this-but making Faro into a friend had certainly worked to cement his loyalty. Perhaps it would work with the others. It was time to give over some of those affectations of the Mazonite mistress; time to make it clear that she had the welfare of her men as much in mind as her own-and to make it clear that she took every casualty personally.

She decided to talk with Hazard, the young man who had conducted the funeral service last night. He was already well-disposed towards her, according to Faro; he had hopes of attracting her attention or getting a high commendation from her when they returned. The other men seemed to like him, so with luck they would not see her singling Hazard out as "playing favorites." There was that business of the little ritual he had conducted as well; that implied a certain level of unofficial authority over the others. He would be a good man to start with.

And she must stop thinking of them as "only slaves."

They were not "only" anything. They were all the men, all the reinforcements she would have. They were important. She needed them.They did not necessarily need her.

The men were packing the wagons and cleaning up the site. As luck would have it, Hazard was the one saddling her mule for her.

Well, that seemed like a good omen, she thought. As if the fates just confirmed her choice. She smiled as she approached him, but he averted his eyes and quickly bowed his head, keeping his eyes down submissively. That was proper slave etiquette, though Faro never averted his eyes from hers, but had always met her gaze squarely. She suddenly found the aversion unnecessary and annoying.

"Hazard, I would like to talk to you," she said, and he glanced up quickly to assess her expression before looking quickly down again. She chuckled; it was forced, but she doubted he could tell that. "Hazard, you don't have to look at your feet when we speak. In fact, I'd really rather you didn't. This place is full of traps and danger, and if there's something coming up behind me to eat us, you won't know if you keep staring at the ground. Since I suspect you'd rather not be eaten, and I know I'd rather not, why don't you dispense with formalities from now on?"

The young man raised his eyes, cautiously, and smiled a little when he saw that she meant what she had said. "That is quite true, Mistress Xylina," he said. "And it is a sensible thing to do, really. So long as I have your permission to be so bold-"

"Everyone has my permission, from this moment on," she told him firmly. "I'd much rather that you all be practical. And while we're at it, let's just forget all the other protocols as well, shall we? There's no one out here to see or be offended; there's no one out here to report you for 'insubordinate behavior.' Even if there was, it would be me they'd have to report to, and it will be me who will be making a report on you all when this is over. I am not going to be offended if-oh, just as an example-you were to knock me to the ground to keep something from swooping down on me! In fact, I will probably be very grateful. Just behave the way Faro does. That will be the easiest, all the way around."

She wasn't sure how he felt about this; she couldn't read him the way she could read Faro and Ware. But at least he kept his eyes raised, and he didn't seem overtly disturbed at the idea of abandoning "proper" demeanor. Was there a hint of approval? Was there a touch of wary humor? She thought perhaps that there was. She would find out more, in a little while.

"I'm going to be riding the middle today," she said, before he could take his place in the ranks and escape her. "I would like you to stay beside me, and watch the left while I guard the right."

"If you wish, mistress," he said immediately. He couldn't have said anything else, of course. He was the slave; her word was law. Still, she hoped he didn't think her craven for taking the middle position. She didn't want these men to regard her as a coward; that would undermine her authority. Her authority must come from strength and from their admiration, not from custom and habit, or they would not believe in her or obey her orders when they thought their lives were at risk.

But Hazard was about to surprise her. He cast a sideways glance at the "forest," and immediately returned his gaze to her. "There will be no safe position in the column in growth like that, will there, mistress?" he said shrewdly. "I know that if I were a bandit, I would let the foreguard pass and attack the middle. And if I were a monster-well, who can tell what a monster will do? Were you planning on guarding the provision-wagon? If there is an attack to the middle, it will probably come there. The scent of the food in the wagon could draw a predator."

She nodded, slowly, pleased with his quick intelligence. "Yes, I thought so too, and I was planning on riding beside the food-wagon. In fact, why don't you pick two other men to stay right with the wagon along with us? That way we can have one on each corner." She smiled. "I'm sure the driver will appreciate the extra guards."

"Yes, Mistress Xylina," he said, "I will do so at once." And there was no doubt that he looked faintly disappointed. For a moment, she could not imagine why he would be disappointed. As he went off to choose the other two guards, she realized the reason.

He thought he was going to have her all to himself; she felt embarrassed amusement. He thought he was going to have a chance to attract her attention, and perhaps attract more than just her attention. Ah, well. Perhaps it was better to get that misunderstanding over with quickly! Such attentions as poor Hazard was hoping for would likely cost her more in respect than it would ever gain. She let him go off by himself, and busied herself with rechecking the saddle on her mule. Better to spare him any discomfit; better to let him think she had not guessed what his hopes and motives had been.

When the group formed up, at the opening under the plants that signaled the beginning of the road through them, she took her place at the right front corner of the provision-wagon, and Hazard took the left. To the rear were two of the older men, career guards who had been trained to fight all of their lives. They were good choices for this position; of all of the men, it was the ones who had seen combat before who had been the least shaken by Kyle's death. One of the men Hazard had chosen was a man called Gurt, the other, a bearded fellow, Jan. The driver of the provision-wagon was Horn, the cook, and he seemed very glad to see them all. He was no kind of fighter, and he had seemed very disturbed after Kyle's death.

With Ware in the lead, the expedition crossed the last of the rock-waste, and plunged into the green gloom of the "forest." Faro had been right; the leaves tended to sway over the primitive road, and the road itself wound around them, so that once the entire train was inside the area, she found she could not see either the front or the rear of the cavalcade.

It was, in fact, quite dark under those leaves after the brilliant and unshaded sunlight of the rock-waste. Xylina was not entirely certain what to make of the plants they traveled beneath. She could not imagine how they remained standing. They were nothing more than a cluster of immensely long leaves, each as wide as her mule, but very narrow in proportion to the length, and standing cubits above her head. The clumps of leaves, six or seven to a cluster, were joined only at their bases. Fat roots plunged from that joining straight into the ground. There seemed to be no support for the plants except for a thick central rib, which hardly seemed strong enough to bear the weight of the enormous leaves. The ground underneath was entirely devoid of growth except for a few pale fungi; it was not possible to see the earth, however, for the remains of dead leaves piled up beneath the plants. Xylina would have been surprised to see anything growing here, actually; there wasn't enough light under these plants to grow much of anything. Even a fern would have had a hard time subsisting here. Odd: this place actually looked as if it had been planted and then left to itself.

The road, or at least the remains of one, continued on under and through the plants. That made it a bit easier for the wagons; the plants didn't seem to care for what was left of the roadway, and did not grow up through it. There was plenty of room for the wagons to pass between them so long as they stayed on the road.

Once they had passed a few lengths into the depths of the forest, it was impossible to see the area that they had just left; Xylina looked back once or twice, and could see nothing, not even the hint of sunlight. They could have been in another world entirely. And there was a whole new set of noises under these trees: creaks and chirps, squeaks and chatterings. Xylina took a certain amount of comfort in the fact that none of these sounds was terribly loud. She hoped this meant that whatever produced them was not terribly big.

Though something didn't have to be large to kill; yesterday had proved that. She must not assume that if something was small, it was harmless. She must not assume anything. That thought led to another, and questioning Hazard about his burial rite might be a good place to start a dialogue with him. "Hazard?" she said, prompting the young man to jump just a little in startlement. "If you don't mind answering, how did you come to know what to do for Kyle yesterday? I did not wish to simply leave him-but I had never heard that the-the men had special burial customs." She had almost said, "the slaves" and had stopped herself just in time.

He gave her a very strange look, but replied slowly, "I am not surprised, mistress. Few of the Mazonites pay our customs much heed. It was-something I was trained in by my father. These things are passed from father to son, whenever possible. And when they are not, the man who is trained finds a likely boy in the household and trains him. More than one, if the first boy is taken away from the household. In that way, there is one Rite-Holder in every household, so that the proper rites may be observed."

That answer seemed to imply that there was more to this than just a simple rite or two; it seemed to imply an entire religion. She said nothing, however. It seemed to be almost a secret, and she did not wish to make him think she was trying to force his secrets from him. "What do you generally ask to be reborn as?" she asked impulsively. "I mean, you probably never even heard of the Pacha before you all came on this expedition. So what do you usually ask for at home, as a rebirth?"

It was not Hazard who answered, but the cook, who knew her better than the others. "Simple enough, mistress," Horn said, with a crooked grin. "A girl. Which of us would not rather be reborn as a girl?"

"Ah." She nodded, and the others seemed relieved that she was not offended. "I can understand that."

Jan snorted, just a little. "Oh, there are some pampered pretties who like their soft lives; they generally ask for the same rebirth as what they enjoyed. But not all of us are born with pretty faces and winning ways. And some of us that are-well, Kyle found out the hard way that a pretty face don't always stay pretty forever. Then-" Jan coughed. "Then, well, life don't stay soft."

That was a good opening for a change of subject. "I was very sorry about Kyle, yesterday," she said, and hoped that she sounded as if she meant it. "I never dreamed those purple things were alive. I wish there had been some way to know what was dangerous...."

She let her voice trail off for a moment, then cleared her throat. "This is a very strange place we are entering. Ware says that it is full of wild magic, and that we should expect nothing and be wary of everything. Well, we just had that proved to us, I suppose. But it is hard to be alert all the time."

"What's a demon doin' with us, mistress?" asked the other man behind her, Gurt. "What's a demon doin' outside of the court? Is the Queen's word gonna hold him out here? I've heard they were pretty nasty customers before the Mazonite Queens made 'em behave. What's to stop him from kicking over the traces now?"

Now that was a very good question, and one she hadn't considered. Not that it mattered, because what Ware wanted was something the Queen's word had nothing to do with. He would not endanger them, because he had sworn his word to her that he would protect them, and she knew, somehow, that he was an honorable creature. She didn't care to announce that Ware also wanted to possess Xylina herself, and knew that any dishonor on his part would immediately destroy any chance of that. But still, she could see how the men might be nervous about the demon. She could only imagine the kinds of stories they'd heard about his kind.

"Ware knows how to find the thing that we're hunting," she said, choosing her words with care. "He knows where it is, and how to get at it. The Queen trusts him, so I suppose her word must hold him even outside Mazonia."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that Hazard looked dubious, as if he feared these were not good enough reasons to trust a demon. She thought quickly, trying to find a reason they would believe among all the ones she did not want to tell anyone else. "He also wishes to keep me very safe, because-because I owe him a great deal of gold."

She heard Gurt trying to stifle a chuckle at that, and turned in her saddle to grin at him. "Oh, go ahead and laugh! I don't mind! If it hadn't gotten me in such trouble, this could be very funny, and I fully expect one day to be able to laugh at my dilemma myself!" Carefully, she gave the men an edited version of her misfortunes, leaving out the fact that the crown had guaranteed her debt, and leaving out Ware's other "offer" entirely. "So you see, if he's to be repaid in gold or in silver he must keep me safe, and in order to keep me safe he will have to do his best to keep you safe. That was why the Queen ordered him to come along-but I do think that even if she had not ordered him to come, he would have done so anyway. He would not want me to escape him before his debt was paid."

All of that was entirely true. It simply was not the whole truth.

"Now that's a reason I can understand," Gurt declared roundly. "Everyone knows how the demons feel about good gold. Always after more of it. Trading and selling, training and bargaining with the freedmen-even going outside the kingdom to get it."

"Well, they can't exactly live on air, can they?" Horn demanded. "Even a demon's got to eat! And if he's got to eat, he might as well eat good. They live forever; living forever shackled would be just plain stupid! With their magic and all..." He coughed. "Well, it stands to reason they want to live good and they got the means."

Not like us. Horn didn't say it, but Xylina almost heard it. The demons, who looked so human, had all the privileges human men did not. And all because the men had no magic.

"Old Ware's all right," said Jan, who had a deeper voice than the others. "Never has high-and-mighty ways. Never puts up a fuss about not having his fancy house to live in. Puts up with the same things we do. He does-well, he never fusses about our-ah-entertainment."

Hazard again cast a sideways look at her, as if to see whether she understood that oblique reference to the paw women and their purpose-and whether she was offended by it. She simply nodded. "I'm glad to hear that," she said, striving not to blush. "I will never know whether he is doing as the Queen asked him to in that way unless you tell me. You are all doing your duty, and you deserve everything you are entitled to. But unless you say something to me about the things I cannot oversee-well, it will be like the little girl who did not speak until her nurse salted her honey-cake-I will have to assume that you do not speak because everything has been fine until now."

Horn grinned at the old joke-or possibly, at her acceptance of the situation. Hazard looked a little embarrassed. She could not see the other two without turning, but she had the feeling that they approved. "Everything is still just fine, Mistress Xylina," Horn said forthrightly. "Hazard or me will tell Faro or you if it ain't."

"Good. In fact," she continued, "if there is something you are entitled to that I have somehow missed, I would like you to tell Faro. If you have any ideas that might bear trying, tell him as well. This is new territory for all of us, and anything that might help us defend ourselves should be tried. I have no prejudice against trying something new, and I can see you are all intelligent men."

She glanced at the two she could see out of the corner of her eye. Horn was nodding with pleased satisfaction; he had worked with her during the "Pacha entertainments," and she suspected that she had just confirmed the opinion he had formed of her then. Hazard looked quite stunned.

Good. Now they saw her as a person, not just as "the mistress." It was going to be harder to desert a reasonable person than an icon, someone who did not seem quite real to them, someone who did not have their welfare at heart.

"You know, Horn, we must have fed several thousand Pacha back there, and yet I hardly know anything about you," she said, after a moment. "Where did you ever learn to cook so well? I can't imagine how you make dried peas and old leather turn into such wonderful stews."

Horn was only too happy to talk, and she was only too happy to listen. Horn's words, and those of the other three men, gave her a window on their world. Faro had given her a glimpse of that world, but only a glimpse. This was a broader, wider view, not filtered through the educated caution of a scribe. And she suspected that it was a view very few other Mazonites ever had.

She learned how the boys were segregated early in their lives, left to be educated-or not-by other slaves, some not even their fathers. How what happened to these children was largely a matter of chance. If the fates smiled upon them, they remained with their fathers and their families, growing up as part of a household, and given nearly the same education as their favored sisters. Then, when they grew to manhood, they would find themselves noticed by a young woman and bartered off to her as her chosen husband, earning their families an agreed-upon spousal-price. But if the fates were not kind, if they were not part of a small family or the offspring of a "marriage," they would find themselves sent off to a nursery until the age of five, with one slave to simply tend to the needs of thirty small boys and boy-babies. Then they would be appraised and tested, their aptitudes determined-and sent off to be trained. Once trained, at the age of fifteen or thereabouts, they went on the auction-block. There would be little chance for a family or to better their lot. They were, simply, property. No different from a horse or a mule.

And even if the fates were kind at first, that did not mean they would continue to turn a smiling face. Kyle had learned that, being discarded for the sake of a younger, handsomer man. There was another of Kyle's ilk with them, a man called Marie, who marched just behind Ware.

The other men of this expedition were of the second class, the sons of harem slaves with little or no chance at a better fate. They felt, for the most part, that they were at least fortunate that they had not been sold off as common laborers. Such a mind-numbing fate was the worst thing that could happen to a slave. Save, perhaps, being condemned to the arena as a gladiator. All of them looked up to Faro as a survivor of that experience. And she had the feeling that her act of inadvertent mercy in saving him from death had also begun the work of earning their respect.

When they halted at noon for a quick meal, she felt that she had a good start on her goal, to make herself their leader by loyalty rather than by default.

It was in the late afternoon that the first of the monsters appeared.

These were singularly peaceful "monsters," and they seemed to take no notice of the humans on the road below them.

The first of them appeared floating through the leaves, pushing them apart, and gliding between them. The entire caravan froze in place, as the creature's snout appeared above them, shoving the fronds aside. Xylina's heart was in her throat, and the men around her grew pale with fear. The thing was about the size of one of the wagons, patterned in brilliant scarlet and gold chevrons, and shaped roughly like a teardrop. It floated majestically above them, about halfway between them and the tops of the leaves, with no sign of anything supporting it.

And no sign that it noticed them.

As they watched it drifting above them, they held their breaths, hoping that it would continue to ignore them. Its round black eyes remained fixed on the fronds around it, however; it stopped once or twice to nibble off a nodule-like growth on the ribs of one of the leaves, but otherwise paid no attention to anything about it.

After a long wait, it drifted further off into the leaves, and was lost to sight.

Xylina let out her breath, and color returned to the faces around her. After a moment to be sure that the monster was not going to return, the caravan started off again. They had not gone very far, however, when several more of these floating creatures appeared. All were brightly colored, patterned regularly in blue and green, red and yellow, orange and black. They varied in shape from long, pipe-like forms to round, ball-like creatures. They did not seem to have heads as such; their faces were built into one end of their bodies, with their eyes so positioned that they could not look directly at something but could see only what one or the other eye was aimed at. They had no kind of a nose that Xylina could see, and their mouths varied from a slit that could readily have encompassed one of the mules to tiny round holes hardly larger than her fist. None of them paid any attention at all to the figures so far below them.

The troupe had frozen in place again, but they still did not seem to attract the attention of the monsters. The creatures continued to drift lazily above. Several of them, however, were capable of very quick movement. When one of the mules brayed loudly out of sheer nervousness, the three turquoise-blue monsters currently above the road suddenly sprang into startled life and darted into the protection of the leaves so quickly Xylina could not believe it.

After more than a dozen of these monsters had passed by with no incident, Xylina relaxed. She was not surprised when, shortly after that, Ware started the column moving again.

The monsters continued to appear above them, and now that they were in motion, these strange creatures began to pay them a little more attention. It seemed to be completely benign, simply curious attention. The beasts drifted downward to hover over the road for a few moments, twisting to one side or another to peer down at them with a bright eye. After a time, their curiosity seemed to be satisfied, and they moved up and away again.

Perhaps the party did not look edible, Xylina thought. That was encouraging, actually.

More variations appeared: round creatures covered with spines, slender ones with huge, gauzy draperies trailing from them, flat ones with appendages like fans. All of them were brilliantly colored, and all of them showed either simple curiosity or complete indifference to the travelers.

Now Xylina caught sight of something new on the ground on either side of the road. These were enormous black mound-like objects, covered with spines as long as the wagons. At first, she thought that they were some kind of growths, like the spiny objects back in the "rock garden" area-but then she saw one moving.

It crawled like a snail, although she could see no way for it to do so, unless, perhaps, there were feet of some kind hidden under the bottom spines; the spines waved restlessly in all directions as it crawled, but it did not seem to see them-or, for that matter, to see anything at all. It bumped into the base of one of the plants even as she watched, and lurched its way around the plant by continuing to bump into it, before resuming its journey across open ground.

It finally came to rest just beside the road. Recalling the lesson of the purple "tree," she was very loathe to take her men by it.

Fortunately, that was a decision she did not have to make. One of the yellow and red beasts drifted into view above, and turned to peer down at them. It saw the spine-creature-and its behavior changed completely. It turned from a graceful, gentle beast to a predatory killer.

It dived down out of the fronds, like a falcon stooping on prey. It attacked the spine-creature aggressively, biting at the spines and snapping them off. In a moment, it had been joined by three more of its kind that appeared as if by magic, and together they attacked the spine-creature without mercy, as it waved its spines at them in a futile gesture of self-defense. Soon they had denuded the entire top of the creature, and were attacking the outer skin of the beast. Once they had begun that part of their attack, it was soon over. The outer skin was broken, and the three monsters devoured the creature as quickly as a child would eat a sweet fruit, diving down to snatch away mouthfuls of flesh until there was nothing left but an empty shell and the broken spines. Then they transformed again into the peaceful creatures they had been. They rose into the tops of the leaves, and drifted away, sated and replete.

Cautiously, the caravan drew near the remains. It was hard to believe that such a large animal had been reduced to fragments so quickly. Hazard stepped forward to pick up one of the broken spines and hefted it in his hand, a thoughtful look upon his face.

The piece he held was as long as his arm, and ended in a wicked point. It was hollow, and Xylina wondered if a shaft could not be fitted to it, giving them a kind of spear. In the hands of a thinking creature it could be much more effective than it had been on its original owner.

Evidently Hazard had the same notion. "Our own weapons are the only ones of their kind, mistress," he said to Xylina. "It would not be a bad thing if we could use these materials that we have at hand, and save our old weapons as much as we may. These, we could afford to lose, I think. They might make good arrows, or throwing spears."

Xylina nodded. "Let us stop long enough to gather as many of these spines as we can," she told the others, raising her voice so that it carried to the rest of the men. "Put them in the weapons-wagon; we can figure out what we can do with them when we stop for the night. Keep anything that looks useful-and take care with the points. They might be envenomed."

Soon the poor creature had been completely denuded of its ineffective defenses, and the end of the wagon had been heaped with broken and whole spines. Only when they had gathered everything that looked worth salvaging did they move on.

But the attack on the spine-creature served to remind them that they were far more vulnerable than it had been, in many ways. They had been rather cavalier until now, since the floating monsters did not appear hostile. Now they were on the alert; ready in case the benign creatures suddenly decided they did look edible.

And that proved to be their salvation.

The plants had begun to thin, but there were other things, neither plant nor animal, but an odd amalgam of both, taking their places. These were mound-like creatures covered with waving tentacles, about the size of the spine-creatures, but rooted to one spot. They seemed delicate, vulnerable, far more helpless than the spine-creatures. The tentacle-creatures were pastel in color rather than the bright colors of the floating monsters, and that reinforced their look of delicacy, but a quick demonstration proved that they were deadly.

One of the spine-creatures bumbled out into the open again, and the brightly colored floating monsters saw it. Several of them dived upon it to begin picking it apart, and one of them ventured too near to one of the tentacle-beasts. In fact, it brushed against two or three of the gently waving arms.

Immediately, the tentacles shot out to touch the monster. That was all they did, but the beast froze; then shuddered as if it had been struck a terrible blow, and uttered a strange, thin cry. At the sound of that cry, the others of its kind fled, leaving behind their prey and their fellow. The spine-creature, left alone, bumbled off into cover. The floating monster seemed trapped by the gently caressing tentacles.

The monster thrashed, strongly at first, but gradually weakening. The tentacles continued to hold it as it writhed, weakly, then stopped moving altogether. The tentacle-beast reached out again with more of its tentacles, and wrapped the silent form in a close embrace, then drew it towards the center of the beast. There it sank into the mass of tentacles, and disappeared. Presumably to be eaten.

Xylina stared at the tentacle-beasts, and tried to measure their proximity to the road by eye. One or two of them were too close for her comfort. The tentacles moved too much; some of them would reach near enough to the road that they could have touched the men or the animals.

"Mistress, I don't think those creatures can actually see anything," Hazard ventured after a moment. "They seem to be as blind as the spiny-beasts. I think that you would probably have to touch one of their limbs before they knew you were there; that would be when they knew to attack."

Faro had urged his mount up beside hers while the young fighter was talking, and he grunted agreement. "That's exactly what I was going to say," he told them both. "They can't see us, and they can't move. So as long as we don't touch those things-"

"Look!" cried Hazard. He pointed at another of the tentacle-beasts. "There is someone in there!"

Xylina blinked, and rubbed her eyes to clear them, then looked again. There was something hiding shyly in the tentacles of the beast; her eyes were not deceiving her, nor were Hazard's. "It's not someone," she said, "It's something."

It was something about the size of a child, bipedal and upright, and peering out at them with huge green eyes, and covered with golden fur. It hid well within the tentacles, and did not seem to be taking any harm from them. The closest thing she could compare it to was a lemur, for it had very long arms, but that did not seem to keep it from walking erect. It was surely not human, for it wore no clothing and carried no weapons, and it had a sharply pointed muzzle like a fox.

"Should we try to capture it, mistress?" one called Barad asked eagerly. "We could keep it with the dogs! It would make a fine beast for the Queen's menagerie!"

But Xylina noticed that he looked from the lemur to Ware and back again, and she suspected that he had other things in mind than catching it for the menagerie. She had a vague notion of what he might be thinking of-that this two-legged beast might be worth considerable as a freak in a black-market show. Certainly it would be different.

The notion made her uneasy. This creature-it was a wild thing, and she could imagine how frightened it would be. Perhaps it was intelligent. That would be worse.

Xylina shook her head. "No," she replied slowly. "No, let it be. If we disturb the tentacle-beast, it will probably sting us. How would we capture the lemur without coming to harm ourselves? The lemur is doing us no harm, and there is no point in risking ourselves to catch it. We should let it alone. We don't know how to care for it, even if we could capture it, and it would probably die if we took it away from here." Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Ware nodding in approval.

"Let us simply pass these creatures as quietly as we can," she continued. "I think if we are very careful, we can get by them without mishap." She looked down the road, and frowned a little. "It will be night soon. I would prefer not to make a camp anywhere near them-and I would like to find a place to camp with some running water nearby."

The wagons edged past the tentacle-beasts carefully; the mules sweated with fear, but fortunately did not balk, though they must have sensed their danger. It did not help that the tentacles groped constantly; the sightless movement was unnerving at best, and brought danger a mere finger-length away at worst. It was horrible to remember that the tentacles could stretch, and that if the beast knew a man or a wagon was there, they would stretch out to give him one of those deadly caresses. And the wagons could not be driven off the roadway; they would sink into the soft ground at the side of the road.

One of the dogs could not bear the waving tentacles, and finally broke the leash holding it in the wagon, fleeing and howling with fear. Unfortunately, its mindless panic sent it blundering right into another of the tentacle beasts, and if there had been any doubt in the mens' minds about whether those tentacles would be effective on them, the dog's instant demise cleared that doubt immediately.

The poor beast let out a terrified shriek as the first tentacle brushed it; the dog howled in pain as more tentacles joined the first. Then it gurgled as it thrashed convulsively as the tentacles continued to hold it in that deadly embrace. It died quickly after the last convulsion ended; it was carried into the middle of the tentacle-creature, and vanished like the monster had, into an unseen maw.

None of the men wished to go lemur-hunting after that.

As nightfall approached, they finally came upon a clear spring welling up from a rocky outcropping in a relatively clear spot. The plants had thinned to the point that sunlight reached the ground, and the resultant light allowed other things to flourish among them, things that looked more like the plants and bushes Xylina knew from Mazonia. Some of them bore what looked to be fruits and berries, but in colors and shapes that none of them recognized. Although fresh fruit would have been very welcome, there was nothing that Xylina recognized as edible, and she really did not want to experiment with her men's lives. So instead, she directed them to empty and refill all the water containers, set up her palisade of stones, and ordered Horn to prepare a meal with the dried and preserved provisions, and the conjured stuffs she provided for the purpose of flavorings. It seemed cruel to subject them to bland provender in the sight of what might have been fresh food, when simple conjuration could add to the flavor of their meal.

Their defenses seemed secure, as secure as she could make them. They had held until now. But she was not easy in her mind. They had already seen that some creatures about here could fly-and how could anyone predict what would appear at night? A stone palisade would prove little defense against monsters capable of dropping down out of the air.

For that matter, there was no telling if something capable of climbing the palisade was not out there.

She wondered, as the men set up camp, if she should keep her fears to herself. Perhaps she was being too cautious. It would do no good to agitate the men with her imagined beasts. But on the other hand, it would be stupid not to alert them to the possibilities of attack from above. Not just stupid-insanely suicidal. She had no right to risk their lives because she was afraid she might sound foolish.

So as they gathered to share supper, she also shared her fears for the night. She opened up the possibility of floating and flying carnivores, or creatures large enough to climb over their defenses. She reminded them of the sand-burrower. It did not make for a cheerful meal.

"If any of you have any ideas of how we can defend ourselves from attack from above or below, I would like to hear them," she said when she had finished. "I had thought of creating a metal mesh across the top of the palisade, but the problem with that is that it would be too large to support itself. The only other mesh I made like that needed to cover a much smaller area, and was supported quite evenly on all sides. Besides, some of these beasts have tentacles long and thin enough to reach through such a mesh, unless I made the holes between it very fine, and that would make it even heavier. A metal plate with holes in it might serve, but these monsters might be able to lift it, for I have no way of anchoring it to the stones. And in any case, that much metal would surely attract lightning if we were to have a storm tonight."

Hazard stroked his beardless chin in thought. "If such a construction were to fall, it would surely crush us," he pointed out. "I am not certain that I would like a conjuration of that nature suspended over my head all night long."

"And I am not certain I would, either," Xylina agreed. "That is the problem with such things; I can't fasten them to the rock walls that I have created, and if there is a monster out there large enough to shift it, it will fall on top of us all. If I create pillars in here to help support it, there will be very little room for us to move."

"What about an active defense?" Jan asked. "What if you made a lot of sharp poles thrusting upwards, like the spines on those spine-balls we saw?"

"The spines did not help those creatures much," she pointed out. "And if I planted them that closely together, there would again be no room for us."

"What of a solid wooden roof?" asked Faro.

"Fire," she replied succinctly. "And wood can be broken. Rock and the amalgam I made for the bridge are both heavier than metal. And there is another thing; making our palisade is very tiring for me. I could begin creating a large covering of metal mesh or wood or almost anything, but frankly I am certain I could not finish it."

It cost her something in pride to admit that, and from the surprise on the men's faces, it must have been the first time they had ever heard a Mazonite say that something was beyond her.

"You can create oil, can you not?" Barad asked.

She nodded. "Several barrels' worth, I believe."

"Then let us make torches and have a trench of oil about the inside of the palisade," Barad suggested. "If something seems to be coming over the wall, or attempting to fly down into our camp, we can set fire to the oil. I have never seen a wild beast that would willingly fly or climb into fire."

That seemed the best solution possible, and this was precisely what Xylina did.

As the last of the light died, they set their guards. There were twenty-nine of them altogether; they set watches of nine, ten, and ten. Ware would command the first watch, Xylina the second, and Faro the third. The rest drew lots for which watch they would take.

The first watch passed without incident, but midway through the second watch, Xylina's fears of an attack from above were realized.

The first watch had noted strange lights that passed overhead, but they did not seem to portend anything, and they did not descend far enough down that anyone could see what they were. Xylina guessed that they might represent some night-flying version of the floating monsters, creatures which carried lights like fireflies, or like the foxfire found in rotting stumps. They might even be lights like those that floated above swamps: false-lanterns, the Mazonites called them. All about them, the night remained peaceful. Xylina dozed through the first watch, waking from time to time as the men spoke with each other, but there was nothing to suggest that they were in any danger.

The sounds from outside the palisade, which had been suggestive of insects and small animals, suddenly changed midway through the second watch, however. Xylina had patrolled with the rest, listening carefully to the chirps and buzzes of insects, and the rustling noises that could be small animals disturbing foliage. She peered up at the floating lights-red and green and blue, some in patterns, some alone. Nothing threatened, and she began to feel very foolish.

Then the night grew suddenly quiet. Alerted, she strained her ears for some sign of what had come to prowl out there, for surely something had, and had disturbed the night-creatures enough to silence them. But Gurt heard the noises first-scraping sounds, but very loud, as if something was being dragged through the sand outside. As these sounds drew nearer, Xylina felt the hair on the back of her neck rising. Whatever was out there, it was heading for the palisade.

Then Xylina heard more of the sounds, coming from another direction-and Marie heard them as well, from his section of the palisade. The conclusion was inescapable. Whatever was out there, there were many of them, and they were all converging on the palisade!

Xylina sent Gurt around to wake the others, and lit her oil-soaked torch, going to stand beneath the wall with her sword in one hand and her torch in the other. Fear sent a chill hand walking down her spine, and her eyes burned with the strain of trying to see what was over the top of the wall. Would the wall stop it, whatever it was? Or could it fly or climb?

The scraping sounds reached the rock wall-and stopped for a moment. She thought then that it was over, that they were safe, but then the sounds resumed-and continued up the wall. Her heart pounded in her ears; her mouth tasted dry, and her knees trembled. Still, she stood her ground, standing at the foot of the palisade, waiting to see what was coming for them. She could not let the men see how frightened she was-or they might lose their own courage. She must hold fast, or they would not be able to. But she followed the sounds up the wall with her eyes- and so she was the first to see the new monsters as soon as they topped the rock of the palisade.

Something like a talon hooked over the edge of the rock; a second appeared beside the first, then the edge of something huge and saucer-like heaved up into the light from the torch. It was shiny, and there were many legs attached to it; a pair of faceted eyes, glittering like some malignant jewel, looked down at her in the torchlight. Beneath the eyes were sickle-shaped mandibles, sharp and as long as her arm, serrated on the inner edges. Another moment passed, and a second creature hauled itself up to stand on the palisade beside the first. More followed, until the rock walls were ringed with them.

The first thing she thought of was that they were some kind of horrid giant spider. But their limbs were armored, and besides those terrible mandibles that clicked menacingly, each of the monsters was armed with two huge pinchers, as large as Faro's torso, that they held just in front of their mouths. They were each as large as two horses put together; they glared down at her, their eyes reflecting a hundred tiny flames in the light from her torch, and one of them made a move to descend the wall, groping down for a foothold in the stone.

She acted before she thought, on pure reflex. She plunged her torch into the oil-filled trench, and leapt backwards as the flames exploded upward, licking hungrily at the wall.

The flames were not the only things roaring; the monsters let out angry sounds of their own as the flames lashed out toward them. Most of them retreated backwards, down the way they had come-but a few of the largest gathered their legs under themselves, and sprang at her, at the men, landing in the camp on the other side of the flaming barrier.

Afterwards, she could not recall anything clearly; only a horrible confusion of claws and blades clashing together, of Faro dousing one of the things with oil and setting it afire, so that it scuttled madly about the encampment, shrieking. Fire and reflected flame, screams of men and monsters-at one point she found herself fighting back-to-back with Gurt, Horn, and Barad, sweat pouring down her face and stinging her eyes, her body shaking with fear and fighting-frenzy. She conjured weapons for those who had lost theirs, calling up anything that happened to spring to mind-torches, staves of metal, fistfulls of fabric to cast over the eyes of the monsters to blind them for a precious moment. Someone called an alarm as the flames in the trench died; she conjured more oil to keep the trench burning. Faro backed three of the things into a corner, catching them between himself and the flames; she sprinted to his side and conjured more slabs of rock to topple onto the monsters to break their armored legs. Jan fell and one of the beasts grabbed his leg, trying to drag him away. She left the fighting circle to dash in and sever the joint of the claw holding him, then stood over him until two of the others came to drag him to cover. In the next instant, Barad was taken and torn apart by two of the beasts, then devoured before their eyes, the creatures stuffing still-twitching limbs into their greedy maws.

Ware took advantage of their preoccupation with feeding to slay them both, stabbing them with long poles topped with spines, up through their mouths. Horrid black ichor spurted from their mouths as they backed into the flames from the trench.

There was no time-no time-

In the next moment, she came between Gurt and another of the beasts, forcing it away from him, hacking at it with an arm that felt leaden and burned with fatigue. Ware got this one as well, tossing a swath of oil-soaked fabric over it from the rear and letting her back it into the fire from the trench so that it went up like the others, screaming and waving its pinchers in the air.

Faro seemed to be everywhere, stabbing at the creatures' eyes with improvised spears made of spines and tent-poles, snatching up an abandoned bow and shooting out their eyes. All of the fighting was lit with the hellish glare of the oil-fire, making it seem as if they fought demon-creatures in a nightmare.

Finally, just when she thought that she could not swing her blade again, she looked up in a momentary respite, after killing yet another of the beasts by hacking its legs off then stabbing it through the eyes-

-to see that the sky was turning lighter, and that the only creatures left within the palisade were all dead. It was over.

They had won.