The Goblin Mirror

12

BEYOND THE ARCH WAS A TUMBLED RUIN, A WHOLE GREAT hall with hardly anything of it standing but the walls—a mysterious place, very old. Master Karoly said it was Hasel, but it was not at all what Yuri had heard regarding Hasel. Master Karoly rode behind them while Nikolai walked ahead with the bow in hand and he followed Nikolai—Zadny keeping right by him, sometimes crossing in front of him, sometimes trying to press up against his legs while he was walking.

It was hard to believe that these halls, open to the sky, had ever had a roof or held colors and voices. Nikolai had talked about wars and towers burning, they had seen the destruction at Tajny Straz, and seen the work of ghosts, but the spookiness about this place was unbearable—maybe, Yuri thought, that it had been dead longer or (he shuddered to think) that worse things had happened there. Constantly there was a hint of movement in the tail of one's eye. There was a chill in these stones that had nothing to do with early morning, and the echo any sound made lived on and on here, imitating voices, while they walked through what had been walls, and a horse went through what had been rooms, with a lonely clatter of hooves.

Yuri cast a glance over his shoulder, just to be sure—and something flitted in the edge of his vision. He felt a coldness at the back of his neck and swatted at it, but nothing was there. If he had been alone, he would have run for his life. But there was Nikolai, there was master Karoly, and he had to be brave. He had to figure master Karoly knew what he was doing and where he was leading them, and most of all that Tamas had gotten through here somehow—and if Tamas had gotten through, then he would.

He saw trees above the next wall, tall trees, and he looked to that as the end, the boundary where the ghosts tied to this place had to stop. He was ever so glad when they passed the farther gateway and leaf-strewn pavings gave way to earth.

"Keep together," Karoly said from behind him as they entered forest shade. "Nikolai, stay with us. This is no place to stray off. Believe me, master hunter."

Nikolai scowled and fell back to their pace. "I can't hear a damned thing with your clatter, master wizard. Ghosts are one thing—if it's goblins—"

"Not in this woods."

"Not in this woods," Nikolai echoed. And Yuri wished master Karoly would say more than that, too. "Not in this woods," Nikolai said again, and they walked, and the brush grew thicker. And darker with shadow. "Not in this woods, is it? Then what is in this woods, pray tell?"

"It's not always the same woods, master huntsman—and I don't know. It's not been the same woods since me mirror broke. By what Ylysse said—and that's all I know, the witches exist here, they spelled this place to protect them, and it did. Maybe for some it's random what woods you enter—but some of us—some of us some of them still have an interest in. I've brought Ysabel here."

A lady was walking far in front of them. A lady in black clothing. Yuri saw her of a sudden. And there was a shadowy figure of a man holding her hand.

"Thank the god," Karoly breathed. "Thank the god, she's leading us, and Pavel's sane. Don't lose sight of her."

She looked real enough. Yuri blinked as they walked, and blinked again, and the lady was still there, although one was not sure at times about the man.

They came to a sunlit spot and both of them faded, then came back again beyond it. Yuri wanted to tell that to the boys at home, if they would ever believe it. He forgot to be afraid, he was so fascinated by this going and coming.

Of a sudden he saw other figures standing in their path, and he looked back at master Karoly, wondering should they stop or not, but master Karoly kept riding, without a change of expression, and Nikolai walked on the other side. Yuri gave Zadny a pat on the head as Zadny pressed close to him, and kept walking toward what he was sure were other ghosts—women, ladies, queens they looked to be; and he drew deep breaths trying to be calm and not act the fool in what he was sure was a very serious meeting.

"Damn," he heard Nikolai mutter. "Are they real?"

"As real as death," Karoly said.

"The trolls—" Nikolai said. And they were there, behind a shaft of milky daylight, at least two of them, no. ...

"Three. There's three."

The lady in black kept walking, and so did her companion, slowly, slowly, dissolving in the light and reappearing faintly on its other side, while the trolls (three at least) sat like statues, like heraldic beasts, in the presence of the three queens.

Then the lady in black and her companion met with them, and turned and faced them as they came, with the man faint and gray behind her. Very solemnly they waited, until they had gotten into the daylight, with the trolls—one had to be Krukczy, Yuri was sure of it, but he dared not blurt out anything—it was too quiet, too dangerous.

"Karoly," one queen said.

And the lady in black: "Late, Karoly, damned late. Couldn't you hear me?"

"I came as quickly as I could," Karoly said, from Gracja's back. Zadny whined and wanted reassurance. Yuri ducked down and held his muzzle, for fear he would start barking-it was not the time for it, most assuredly not the time.

"I want their heads\" the lady said. "I want them to pay, Karoly."

"A matter of sovereignty," another said. "Do I know this boy, Karoly?"

"This is Yuri," Karoly said, and Yuri, feeling altogether too conspicuous, stood up, and made a respectful bow.

"And Nikolai," the same lady said. "Faithful Nikolai."

A wind began to blow, picking up leaves and rushing through the trees with a deep sigh.

The trolls leapt up and scattered, as Gracja backed and faced to the stinging gale—Zadny yelped and took out for the brush and Yuri grabbed for him, missed and grabbed a second time, afraid Zadny was going to disappear into the thicket forever.

"Yuri!" he heard Nikolai shout behind him. And: "Ka-roly, damn it!"

He made a frantic grab after the hound, sprawled full length in the leaves and scrambled up again with a glance over his shoulder.

But there was no sign of the ladies, no sign of Nikolai or Karoly and none of the trolls—it was just woods, just a lot of trees, and a leafy spot, and plain daylight.

He heard something coming across the leaves. He looked and saw Zadny waggling up to him, all humble and contrite, now that they were completely lost. He made a half-hearted snatch and caught Zadny's collar, knelt down by him to look around and try to get his bearings, and it was all just forest.

Zadny licked him on the ear, on the jaw. Damned dog, Nikolai would say. And he would not damn Zadny, but Zadny was not high in his favor at the moment.

That was stupid, he thought. Nikolai would call it stupid-losing himself for a dog, worrying everyone—making the ghosts angry at him. The woods did not feel as spooky as before, but there were ghosts. As real as death, master Karoly had said. As real as the fact he had had people with him, who were not widi him now—or he was not with them.

"Stop it!" he said to Zadny's whining and washing of his face. "Stop it! You've got us both lost, you understand that? Stupid dog."

Zadny ran a few paces off from him as he got up, and ran back to him, and ran away again in the same direction, the same way Zadny had done on the mountain.

"Is it Tamas?" he asked, suddenly realizing what Zadny's behavior might mean. "Is it Tamas you're following? Do you know where he is, boy?"

Zadny went a little further, and circled back and out as he followed, faster and fester. Zadny had his nose to the ground now—he was on a scent, there was no question of it, and whatever had happened to separate him from the others, following Zadny before had never brought him to harm. So he trusted him mis time.

A blast of dust in the eyes and a blink and there was nothing, no one, no sign of the boy or the dog—I knew it, Nikolai said to himself, casting about in every direction for something familiar. I knew it, I knew it, I should have had that dog for goblin bait. . .

"Yuri!" he shouted into the woods. "Karoly!" And furiously, desperately: "Krukczy, damn your hairy hide, find the boy!"

"Find the boy, is it?" said a quiet voice.

He spun about. It was the voice on the tower stairs. It was the voice out of his boyish nightmares, the voice drowned in thunder and in rain and sealed behind stone.

"And what about yourself, Nikolai?" the lady asked, drifting closer. Her hair was black. Her gown was black. "Have you no need to be found?"

He backed a pace without thinking about it, but she kept coming until she was as close to him as she had been that day. Wind stirred her gown and her silken sleeves and the dark veil of her hair. She was young and she was beautiful. And her eyes were bottomless.

"Faithful Nikolai. I asked you that day, were you faithful to Stani. And you said yes. Did you know then that was a promise?"

"I've never broken it," he said.

"You're here," she said. "Why?"

"For Stani's sons. For your grandsons." The ground rumbled underfoot. The wind began to blow. He flung up his arm to shield his eyes. "Witch, damn you, rescue the boys, can you do that?"

"But that's why I sent you, Nikolai."

"Sent me!"

"All those years ago. Yes. You climbed down from those stairs safe that night. You had a job to do for me. You've done part of it. But it's not done, Nikolai."

"Where's Yuri? What have you done with him?"

"Not I, Nikolai. Not I. All of us—the witches of the Wood, the goblins and their queen—and the young witch, Mirela. Tamas is my heir. Tamas ... is my heir. And Urzula was not my name."

"Ysabel," he recalled.

"Karoly told you that. Yes, Ysabel, once upon a time. But Urzula is good enough a name for my son to know. Goodbye, and fare exceedingly well, Nikolai."

The lady leaned forward, and rested ghostly hands on his shoulders. He felt the chill even through armor. And touched ghostly lips to his ever so gently.

"I wanted to do that," the ghost said with a wicked wink, and was gone, in a whirl of shadow and pallor, and silence. "One thing more you will do," the voice lingered to say.

"What?" he called after it.

But it was gone, into daylight and ordinary woods.

"Damn!" he cried. "Damn! Lady! What thing am I to do?"

In its silence he walked straight ahead. He could think of no better direction. And if there was a ghost in the world that had reason to guide him to the boys, he believed in this one.

But all he found when he had come over the second leaf-paved hill was a bony old man in a gray cloak on an unlikely shaggy pony.

"Where's Yuri?" he asked the ghost. But it was master Karoly who called out from the bottom of the hillside.

"I don't know. I hoped he was with you."

Nikolai slid down the hill on slick leaves, caught his balance under Gracja's startled nose and snagged the bridle for a look up at the old man. "Not hide nor hair. Only the lady. Your lady. Ladislaw's wife."

"Urzula ..."

"Urzula—Ysabel. You're the wizard, you knew what you were doing when you brought the boys here in the first place. Don't lie to me, Karoly! They're caught up in something you know about. She said Tamas was her heir. She said he's with Mirela. What in hell did she mean?"

"Oh, god."

"What did she mean, Karoly? You know, don't you, you damned well know!"

"She didn't say a thing about Tamas. She named Yuri, to me. But there's not a shred of magic in him, I couldn't find it in any of the boys and she never got a daughter—which she could have. Witches can do that."

"I don't doubt it," Nikolai said glumly.

"Deception I can understand. Her whole life was deception. Krukczy Straz was the only guard on that border. But, god save us ... Mirela? Are you sure that's what she said? That that's who Tamas is with?"

"The same name as you said. Mirela. I didn't forget it."

Karoly said nothing more. Karoly climbed down from the saddle, and Gracja shied and pulled at the reins, nervous about something, ears flicking one way and another. Nikolai held fast to the reins and paid his attention to master Karoly, who seemed to have sudden interest in the treetops, or the weather.

"Tamas isn't a boy to set in a hard situation," Nikolai protested. "Nice boy—but he hasn't the toughness—god, Yuri's more resourceful than he is, the boy's shown it. Why did she settle on Tamas?"

"It's not settling, master huntsman. You don't settle on being a wizard. It's what you're born."

"Then why didn't you see it?"

"You're not listening, master huntsman. Urzula may not have known. Magic has its ways of tricking everyone, most especially those next to it. I'd have bet on Yuri myself—but that's evidently not the way it is."

"Tamas can't shoot a deer. What in hell is he going to do with the goblins?"

"Come again?"

"I said—" God, he was of if looking at the trees again. "Are you listening to me?"

"Ask your question again."

The question eluded him. "About Mirela?" That was the important one. But Karoly did not look at him. "I asked how he was going to shoot the goblins if he couldn't shoot a deer."

"He has nothing against the deer."

For some reason that sent a chill down his back. He did not know why—except. . . except he was used to Tamas the way he was: not a bad boy, nor a coward, now that he thought of it, nor anything he knew exactly to fault the lad on. The fact was—he Jiked Tamas better than Bogdan: he suddenly realized that for the truth—that if he could get two of Stani's sons back, he knew which two he would prefer. God, that worried him.

"Magic will out. Magic will out, do you understand, even after years. That Ladislaw fell off his horse and that Stani existed and that Urzula had sons and not daughters—these are all beyond us; and a lot of it was beyond Urzula herself. —Listen to me, Nikolai. Don't give me that frown. Understand me. Urzula sacrificed everything and everyone on the altar of her purpose. I make no excuses for her. That is sorcery. That was the way she chose. But Tamas—"

"The boy is not a killer. He hasn't the heart to be a killer. I wouldn't make him shoot the deer, Karoly. I talked to him, I reasoned with him—but I wouldn't shame him and I wouldn't force him. The boy's—" Reasons deserted him. The boy's expression that day came back to haunt him, the promise to try—the absolute surety in his mind that Tamas was lying to please him, that ultimately Tamas had rather the shame than the kill and the arrow would most certainly miss.

Lord Sun save the boy, he thought in despair, and, still holding Gracja's rein, beckoned Karoly to get up again.

"We can't find him here. We've got to do something. We've got Tamas going lord Sun knows where, we've got a boy lost out there following a damn dog who's following Tamas, if it makes any sense at all where Yuri's gone."

"Tamas," Karoly said, suddenly paying complete attention. "Tamas. That would be it, wouldn't it? That's where he has gone. No question."

They rode a faint footpath along the flanks of the hills, among pines and massive rocks. In the low places between hills gray haze stung the nose and the eyes, and made Lwi and Skory blow and shake their heads in disgust—while in front of them and behind them, dark goblin figures moved at an untiring pace, figures that flitted in and out among the rocks and sometimes, now and again, vanished along different tracks, to rejoin the trail at some further winding. Tamas wondered where they went—whether scouting for human ambush, or simply taking shortcuts they knew, path is the horses could not climb.

But at one such meeting came other goblins, in plainer armor, and after three of their own party had talked with them a moment, one returned and brought Azdra'ik forward to talk to them, the lot of them with chin-rubbing and fist on hip and downcast looks and language.that, even when the chance breeze brought it to them, meant nothing but perplexity to a lad from Maggiar.

"Can you catch any of it?" he asked Ela. "Is it trouble?"

"Something about the way ahead," Ela said. "Something about a meeting, and horses."

He kept still in the chance that Ela could gather more of it.

"Something about the queen," she said. "Azdra'ik asked them something, I can't make it out. They say they don't know, they—"

Azdra'ik came back then in haste, passed ail the way back down the column to speak to them. "We have horses. Around the hill and on. Yours may not care for them. Keep clear."

"Goblin horses," Ela said, as Azdra'ik went further back.

Tamas glanced back uncomfortably, wondering what they were, and suddenly heard movement on the road around the bend. He turned his head a second time to look, and the goblins behind him were moving to the rocks.

What came was shadow, shaggy maned, black, with a swiftness and silence on the stony path that made him think for a moment both riders and beasts were illusory, creatures of the mirror—but Lwi shied over and snorted as half the riders passed in strange quiet, and Skory shied further, until the rocks and witchery stopped her. It was a rattle and scrape of claws the goblin horses made, leaving white scratches on the rocks where their feet had touched. Their riders stopped them and slid down, both at the head of the column and behind them—Azdra'ik's company made a quick exchange with them, while Tamas kept a tight grip on Lwi's reins and kept seeing this and that view of the road as Lwi spun and backed, the old hunter snorting and laying back his ears. He caught an impression of long-tufted tails, abundant feather from hocks to heels, and when one goblin horse nearest turned profile, it yawned at the bit and showed fangs more formidable than its rider's—that, and a disposition to snap at its fellows. Eyes obscured in forelock and mane, nostrils less horse than cat... Tamas kept a tight hold on the reins and patted Lwi's neck; called him good horse and honest horse, and wished him back in his stall in Maggiar, where he might come to some better end—these creatures might well eat ordinary horses, for what he or Lwi could know.

And it was not fan- that magic stilled honest fears, that first Skory and then Lwi quieted, and stood and sweated. Ela had done that, he was certain. "Good lad, good lad," Tamas said, patting Lwi and easing off on the bit, for the ease of the horse's mouth at least. "Just stay back, we won't put you near them."

The goblins began to move then, the ones that had brought the horses withdrawing up the hillside afoot, under what arrangement there was no guessing. It was only clear that their own party was going on and that the other band was staying— riders were behind them as well, and he no temptation to linger. Lwi jolted into a quicker pace, and Skory matched it, on the verge of bolting free.

"Watch her," Tamas said through his teeth, fearing not even magic would give Skory sanity, and all the while something kept saying to him, This is a mistake, Tamas. You have no place here, no earthly thing but breath in common with these creatures. And least of all believe ng'Saeich—

It began to be like a bad dream, their own horses too trail worn and weary now to keep the pace, and the goblin riders pressing them from behind, which distracted Lwi and made him lay back his ears and look askance. Worse, they entered a deep drift of stinging smoke, where the mountainside was afire—bright flame showed, and elsewhere the grass was blackened. Like the mountains, it was, like the descent to Krukczy Straz, like the way to ambush.

Smallish stout figures moved grayly through the smoke, pacing them on the hillside, figures that appeared and vanished like ghosts.

"Hobgoblins," Ela said. No rider before them had seemed to notice or remark them, and Tamas swung about in the saddle to see if the ones behind had seen.

But when he looked about again, there was not a one of the watchers on the hillside.

"I don't like this," he said. "I don't like this at all. —Don't touch it, Ela, don't."

Ela had her hand on the mirror below her collar, and cast a burning glance toward the goblins. "Those are the ones— those are the ones at Krukczy Straz."

"Get on!" he said. "They've looked us over. Let's close it up. Come on."

He put Lwi to a faster pace, and Ela kept with him, the goblins behind them following them or not, he was not sure until he cast an anxious glance over his shoulder and saw nothing behind him but gray haze and empty trail.

"Itra'hi," he said as they rode in among the riders ahead, and there were looks. Two and three and four riders reined back immediately and veered off to the rear before they even reached the foremost riders.

"Azdra'ik," he said to a goblin he passed in the haze.

"Gone," that one said. "Stay with us!"

"Gone after them?" He had not intended argument. It leapt out.

"Stay!" that one said sharply. Lwi and Skory were surrounded by goblin horses and he had his hands full with Lwi. He dared not break from the group and had nowhere to go if he should. Ela stayed beside him, clinging to the saddle, casting fearful looks behind, and with her hand reaching fitfully after the amulet she did not touch. Reassurance, he thought, the possibility of reinforcement ... overwhelming temptation: (Take it, from her, something said to him. She won't refrain. Something will happen and she'll resort to it, and that's fatal, that's death, Tamas ...)

But before the horses had run out their wind, before they had even cleared the area of the brushfire, goblin riders came up from behind them through the smoke, and Azdra'ik was with them, frowning and angry.

"Keep going," Azdra'ik said, but Lwi and Skory could not stand the faster pace, and fell farther and farther behind as they went, as the trail climbed up and up among rocks likely for ambush. Tamas was not sure whether all the riders in their party had come forward with Azdra'ik, leaving no rear guard. For all he could tell enemies might be chasing after them and their group might be in full rout.

But at the crest of the hill and above the smoke, the goblins abruptly stopped, their horses milling about in confusion and turning and snapping at each other in the way of their kind.

Lwi slowed to a walk. Tamas let him. Ela rode beside him in silence as then- winded horses climbed, up and up the loose earth that claws had scored before them. Something was wrong with the sky, that was—Tamas' first impression-some dreadful fire, far worse than the last, shadowing the eastern sky with a black pall of smoke.

But the higher they rode the darker it looked, until they came cautiously among the goblin riders and had a look over the ridge. The daylight stopped in the valley, simply stopped, and the rest was a wall of night, a division drawn in sun and shadow across the end of the valley, and across the hills. Looking into it, the sky was pitch black, the more stark for its touching the daylight where they were. Tamas blinked, and had an impulse to rub his eyes, although there was no wavering in the sight, no compromise with his outraged senses.

"Lord Sun," he breathed—but lord Sun did not rule yonder. Other powers did.

"Every day," Azdra'ik said, riding close to them, "it grows. Lately it has grown by valleys and hills. This is the queen's power advancing. This is what you attack, young witch, do you see it? Are you still confident, or will you retreat?"

"Retreat where?" Ela asked faintly. "Where could we go to escape this?"

"You might delay it. Go make young witches. Go make someone brave, or stronger, or wiser in choosing the hour."

Ela shot him a hard, pale-faced look. "It's mine."

God, Tamas thought in despair: it sounded like the old, the unrepentant Ela, Ela who could do anything, and they were done, if that was her whole answer.

"Ela," he said.

"He won't have what he wants," Ela said. "He can't make up for stealing it, the queen won't forgive him—"

"That's not what I want, young fool! I want this thing taken away from here!"

"For how long, ng'Saeich? For how long do you think you can go on hiding in the hills and looking for charity?"

"No charity!" Azdra'ik declared, clearly offended.

"I remember a night," Ela said, and Azdra'ik glared.

"It was the collection of a debt. A favor done. There was no charily, ng'Ysabela."

"Mistress fed you. Mistress said to me later that you were harmless. I didn't believe it. I still don't."

Azdra'ik swept a bow from the saddle. "I'm ever so gratified, young witch." And with a cold stare: "But what other judgments are you fit for? Lady Moon, wait at least for your own maturity!"

Ela shook her head and shook it a second time. "That," she said, gazing out toward the dark," is that waiting? Where is it going from here and how fast? Or is she content?"

The goblins murmured together; and Azdra'ik grimly nodded and slid down from the saddle. "Down and rest," he said, and said something to his people, some of whom rode back down the hill.

"Itra'hi," Azdra'iksaid. "Sniffing about us. If you don't make the point with them, they'll not take you seriously. And one cannot trust them. —Get down, get down, take a rest. Closer than this—there's no safety."

"Should have let the forest have them," the one nearest muttered, and Azdra'ik:

"Worse will have them. They already belong to her."

"How long a rest?" Tamas asked. There was not a bone of him that did not ache, as he slid down and his feet touched the ground.

Azdra'ik's hand landed unwelcomely on his shoulder, and he looked the goblin full in the face, expecting some foul trick; but Azdra'ik's grip had no force this time.

"As long a rest as the queen affords us," Azdra'ik said in a low voice. "As long as that comes no closer. Personally, I don't expect a dawn."

He stared at the goblin, wondering—too many things to keep collected. His exhausted thoughts scattered, and beneath them a crawling of the flesh insisted, Don't trust him, don't believe in him, don't take his reassurances.

"Mind," Azdra'ik said, "the young witch holds all our lives." He did not know what Azdra'ik expected him to say. But Azdra'ik had not let him go. "A dangerous business," Azdra'ik said in a low voice. "Affections for a sorceress."

"She isn't," he said. And he heard the other word then. Absurd. "And she doesn't. She hasn't. She won't. Ela hasn't a shred of romance."

"Her opponent is darkest sorcery." Azdra'ik lifted the unwelcome hand on his shoulder, on the way to sitting on the rock beside him. "Sorcery that has less romance than you can imagine. Ask your guest."

"I've no wish to ask her anything! God ... I want free of her!"

"She does devil you, then, does she?"

A breath. A difficult breath. Images and fears crowded him close. "Small freedom you won me."

"I bargained for your life, man. The bargain you made with the ghost was your own folly, and damn your prideful foolishness."

"I made no bargain with her!" But he thought of what he had done, paying the kiss the witch had asked, and of what he had been willing, then, to do. It was only from time to time and afterward that he had changed his mind and wanted his own life back.

"Listen. Long ago, long ago, man, when Ylena was in mortal flesh, she came to us. Granted, we have our moral faults—"

That was worth at least a bitter laugh.

"I say, our moral faults," Azdra'ik persisted. "Not far different from those of men. Among them contentiousness. And greed. And intolerance. We lost our place in the world— we were driven from it. If our queen took any means no matter how desperate to restore that to us, there were those who would do any work she required. Ask me tonight, when there's leisure for such things. But meanwhile—meanwhile . . . offer the young witch no choices, no distractions of your evidently potent charms—"

He started to object, but Azdra'ik's long-nailed finger lifted before his nose.

"Hear me," Azdra'ik said. "Hear me, or damn her and all of us. If the young witch with that fragment in her hands, with the queen at war with her, has one single thought of compromise, she will worse than die. If she spares a moment for interests other than her own, she will lose everything she has and might have, that is the war she was fitted to fight, that is the war she has undertaken, and that is the enemy she faces, do you comprehend? Sorcery cannot be half-hearted, it cannot think with a heart, it simply has to be the only answer she affords. If we are extremely fortunate, we may still be in possession of that fragment tomorrow and the sun may yet rise on this hill. But if you distract her young and eminently scatterable wits—"

Lwi was pulling at him at the other hand. Lwi jolted him with a butt of the head, one more irritance than he could abide in patience. "Her young and scatterable wits have outwitted you, m'lord goblin: she is where she chooses."

"Is she? Are you absolutely sure?"

Now that Azdra'ifc said it—-he was less so.

"There," Azdra'ik said, with a nod toward the horizon. "There is the most potent magic I know, that has moved events before now in the world. Whatever magic on this side and that may have done—the queen fences masterfully, feint and double feint and misdirect, press and provide the adversary the chance, do you see: the riposte and the waiting target, be it her heart, the queen has done everything on purpose. Disabuse yourself of all thoughts to the contrary."

"Are you her move—against the witches?"

"You might be. The young witch might be. You can't know. I can't. Even Ytresse betrayed her creator."

"The witch Ytresse."

"The witch Ytresse. My creation, the queen's . . . who's to know?"

"Your creation." Anger gathered out of that dark place in him, a muddle of desire and rage, regarding the creature that had its hand on him—he gave a shudder and knew at the same time it was the ghost, a woman's ghost, who had had a foolish, foolish knowledge of this creature. He could not move, he could hardly breathe collectedly.

"You might say," Azdra'ik said. "Surely Ylena remembers."

"Don't talk to her! Damn you, let me alone."

"So you understand what distraction can do to a witch. And how far this all reaches."

For a moment the sound of Azdra'ik's voice was faint to him. He gazed off into the darkness above the hills, and the valley where the fires of destruction still burned, faint pinpricks of red light in the darkness.

"That I'm here is no accident either," he said.

"This close to the queen's domains, nothing comes by accident. You—and I. Your assumption that you are not the queen's may be true—or false."

"I know whose I am," he said, with a sudden thought of gran, like a breath of free air. "I know who sent me."

"Who?" Azdra'ik asked, curiosity quick and alive in his glance, but Azdra'ik surely hoped for no truthful answer from him.

"Ask me tomorrow." He jerked his shoulder free. "My horse is tired. I have work to do."

"Man," Azdra'ik said, as he began to lead Lwi away. He looked back. "It's good advice," Azdra'ik said.

"I don't doubt it, m'lord goblin. I'll keep it in mind."

He led Lwi over to where Ela was trying to care for Skory. "Here," he said, "rest, I'll tend to them."

"What did he argue?" Ela asked.

"Nothing," he said. "Nothing I regard. Go sit down. They're making a camp here."

"The lake is yonder," Ela said, looking off toward the east. "The lake that the queen bargained for. That's where I have to go tomorrow."

"We both have to go there," he said, and said it not for loyalty, but in argument to what in him loathed and feared the thought. I have to, he thought. If magic brought me here, if gran was what they say, gran had something to do with this.

And would she have told me so much about this land, the way it was—for no reason? That wasn't like gran. That wouldn't be like her. Why did she tell us—if she was a witch— if we weren't someday to be here?

Bogdan and I—both of us—here.

Zadny kept just ahead, constantly just ahead—the hound might at least have trusted him after all this time together, Yuri thought, especially given he had made not a single try to stop him. But for mile after mile through this endless woods, Zadny skittered away from him like a wild thing. Twilight came, and he stumbled blind and exhausted through the brash, shouting "Zadny, Zadny!" and sometimes calling after master Karoly or Nikolai in the hope they might hear him and follow him.

But it was not until he had fallen on his face and lacked the strength to get up again that the wretch showed up and licked him in the face.

"It's too late for that," he said, and struck at Zadny with his arm. But Zadny was too quick for him, and lay down with his chin on his paws, out of reach, watching him until he could get his breath and stop his side aching and get up to his hands and knees.

Then Zadny ran again, disappearing through the brush.

"Dog!" he yelled, hoarse and furious. "Zadny!"

He scrambled after, catching his sleeves on brambles, tearing his hair and his face and hands as he dived through the twilit brush—and onto an open, rocky hillside, where a shaggy lump sat, holding Zadny in his arms.

"Krukczy!" he cried, sitting up and nursing a skinned knee. It was not fair, it was supposed to be Tamas that Zadny was following, it was supposed to be his brother, and it was not.

Then another troll appeared among the rocks. And another one. They shuffled out and squatted down next the first one, and Yuri stared in dismay.

"Krukczy?" he asked, wondering now which was which, and the one holding Zadny bobbed as if he agreed.

"Come find brothers," the troll said, "find brothers."

It was a riddle. It was powerful and it was scary and the presence of the others made him sure he did not understand trolls, but they were all the help he had in front of him, and he thought he even might know their names.

"Hasel?" he asked, and the second bowed. The third was harder. But he said, "Tajny?" and the third bobbed in trollish courtesy. So he did understand the nature of them. And Krukczy had found what he had come for, Yuri guessed, but he had not.

"You've found your brothers," he said, "but I haven't. Let Zadny go. He can find Tamas. I need him."

The trolls drew closer together, until they were like one lump.

"Dangerous," said the one he was sure was Krukczy, and the others nodded.

"Wicked queen," said the one that answered to Tajny. And Hasel, whose tower was only ruined stones, said:

"Wicked, wicked, wicked."

"Long time ago," said Krukczy, "long time even for us— the goblins go below."

"Long time ago," said Tajny, "long, comes magic back to the land. The queen bargained with the witches. Foolish witches."

"Foolish witches," said Hasel. "Foolish queen."

"Wanted the lake," Krukczy said.

"Now we go there," said Tajny. "Mistress is dead. We go there."

"Go find brothers," said Krukczy, and rose with Zadny in his shaggy arms. "Find brothers. Make the queen pay."

"I think we ought to find Nikolai and Karoly first," Yuri protested, unwilling for Krukczy to carry Zadny away, or lead him anywhere without their advice. "Karoly would know what to do."

"Not theirs to do," Krukczy said, already shambling away, and the other two got up silently and went after him,

"Wait!" Yuri called after them, afraid to make over much noise on this open hillside. He ran, got in front of Krukczy and tried to block his path. "It's not that much to wait—we can find them first."

"Not theirs to do," Tajny said, and Krukczy lumbered past him and the other two followed, relentless as a landslide.

What did one do? What was right to do? If he went back into the woods, master Karoly had said it, he had no idea where or when the forest might let him out again, or what he might meet in that shadow, alone.

Zadny, let down to walk, skipped and leaped and went with the trolls, a willing companion.

So he saw nothing wiser to do, himself.