We all watched as the black thing circled and landed behind the high walls of the courtyard. It barely fit. Even as we prepared, insofar as we could, we could see its wing joints above the walls.

"The Winds and the Lady help us all," I muttered.

Varien stood at my side and put his arm around my shoulders. "They will, surely," he said.

"I'm glad you think so," murmured Rella. "In my experience tbey tend to stay well out of such things."

Varien gazed unblinking at the distant creature. 'The Wind of Change has blown over us, the Wind of Shaping we have been part of," he said quietly. "This is the Unknown, kadreshi. It is the hardest to bear."

"You Gedri keep away from the lake," said Idai's mindvoice in our heads. "It begins. Keep well back. We will fight the better for not having you to worry over."

Speaking of worrying. "Varien, before Idai brought us, did you hear—" I began.

Then I heard him again, Marik, my father. His thoughts spilled into my mind. I tried to shut him out, but no matter what I did his voice was there. Goddess, it was terrible.

When Marik didn't follow me, I raised the alarm. His castle, after all, his people. "Your master is missing. His mind is not stable, he has not been well, help me find him, there are dragons out there!"

The presence of the dragons had not escaped the denizens of Castle Gundar. They were petrified, and only Marik's reassurance stood between them and panic. They were desperate to get him back.

I was seriously annoyed with Marik. Of all times to develop an independent mind! No, I was not amused at all. Fortunately one of his old family retainers came forward—one Mistress Kiri—and told me that as a child he used to be fond of the hills, and when he went missing they would always find him in a certain place.

I was impatient. Waiting in the main courtyard of the castle, I called up a Messenger Rikti and sent to the Demonlord.

'Tour future has escaped into the mountains," I said without preamble.

"My future lies where I choose, demon-spit. What are you on about?"

"I have a soul here, ready to join with you and make you less dependent on my power," I said. "But the current owner has escaped."

"Why are you telling me this, fool? To expose your weakness before I have a chance to find it out myself?'

"Don't waste time. Legend calls you Demonlord, with power over every Raksha ever spawned."

"Only the Lord of the Last Hell does not owe me homage," it said smugly.

"Then send me a winged Raksha to fetch me your soul carrier," I demanded.

"Why should I use my power to assist you, little demon-spit?" it asked haughtily.

"I will waste no more time in debate," I growled. With a thought I was in the realm of the spirit, where Healers see all things in metaphor. There soared the Demonlord like a vast highflying hawk. A tethered hawk. The line was woven of all the binding spells I had cast about him: it was interwoven with cruel spikes, poised upon his back to cut him to the bone should he disobey me, and the line led to my hand. I had made the binding tight and true: he could not shake it off, try though he might. I grasped my hand about the tether and pulled. Hard.

The spikes of the bargain he had agreed to were driven into bis flesh. He screamed, and with my real ears I heard a distant dragon roar. It was good.

"Bound to me, in bonds unbreakable. Do as I bid you or suffer more," I commanded.

"I am not a demon, fool!" it cried.

I pulled the binding leash again.

"I don't give a damn what you think you are. Do my bidding as was agreed, or suffer the True Death."

It laughed, even in its pain. "You cannot threaten me with that! My life is as safe as ever it was."

"Your life is in your heart, which you bear even now within your form."

It laughed again. "Fool! Do you think the power of the Distant Heart is in its physical location? There is only one creature in all the world and time that can inflict the True Death upon me. It is the stricture to the spell, and you know it not."

I smiled as I pulled the binding tighter. "Fool, thrice fool and damned! I know exactly what is required, and I have her under my hand: she who, when cut, bleeds both Kantri and Gedri blood."

The Demonlord reeled, in the realm of the spirit. Luckily my mind was closed to him, at least enough that he could not see that I did not physically have her by me. Enough that I knew the stricture and had a demonline to her. I knew I could take her when I needed her, and that is all he would see in my mind.

"If you are done with your posturing, send me a Raksha to bear to me my prey," I growled at him. He cursed and spat and writhed in the bindings, prophesying my sudden demise—and sent me a Raksha.

"Fetch Marik," I told it. "He will be in these hills. A man, running away from this place."

"Too many Kantri!" it cried. I'd never seen a Raksha terrified. Interesting, but I had no time for this.

"Then fly low and find him swiftly," I retorted. "Go!"

It flapped up to the wall, looked about, and took off towards the southeast.

I stood alone in the courtyard, drew my poniard, and waited.

Height. Must get higher, so I can see and not be seen. I can't shake the feeling that Lanen is right behind me, but I've looked back ten times and she is not there. My mind is playing tricks.

My mind. How did I get to this place? I was steadily gaining wealth, I was doing well as a merchant, then Berys came along and I made that damned Farseer and my life was ruined. I'd never have been as rich as I am, but who knows, Marik, you might have lived longer, eh?

There is no pursuit. Hells! I'm not as young as I was, I can't run up the side of a mountain without catching my breath. Damn— but I've come a long way up, he'll have a job finding me—what's that over the castle—oh, Hells.

It's the sodding dragon. It's too big to be alive, nothing that big should be able to move. It's circling to land, it's—

Damn it what's that something s got hold of me

it's a demon NO NO Let me go damn you let go of me oh Hells we're flying!

It's taking me back. I just came all that way I got away I was nearly away it's taking me BACK—to Berys, Berys is standing there in my courtyard smiling, and the dragon is waiting.

I'm struggling against the demon but I can't get away, the second it drops me one of Berys's own guards holds me, I kick I fight to get free but it's done—

Oh, shit.

A second of pain, a deep thrust with a knife like a terrible needle—the sight of it sticking out of my chest is surprising, my heart stumbles and stops—thought flies away, it's like a dream my mind is loosed my body drops away I'm free at last...

Gahhhh!

I was dead. I know it. Dead, just now. A terrible, eternal, burning moment of pain, and then freedom. No more agony, no madness, no fear. No self. It was—comforting.

But Berys has dragged me back, half healed. Hells, the agony! I cannot breathe, my chest is on fire—and Berys is calling my name. I ignore him, but am forced to open my eyes. He is standing above me, smiling.

"Ah, Marik, welcome back," he says happily. I struggle, I long to leap up and throttle him, but I cannot move. "Just in time. Here is your soul mate. I hope you like him."

Something huge has fallen to earth behind me, with a great commotion and a gust of hot air. The Black Dragon. The Demon-lord. It is so near I can see its eyes, but I cannot focus for more than an instant, the pain is everywhere. I cry out with it but nothing happens. I force myself to look at the creature, take my mind off the searing agony in my body.

Close to like this, it seems to be no more than a thin shell over something that flows horribly beneath the surface, ever changing. And it is hot, a haze rises from it, it bleeds heat like a hundred days of summer violendy crushed into one, scorching heat streams from it, merciless, more cruel than death.