Besides, if he came sailing overhead aboard the Skyland, people would be less likely to think that the whole thing was one of Geste's stunts. They knew that the Skyler was not the sort of person who would volunteer to help out in one of the Trickster's schemes. And the fact that people were gathering in one place, in person, rather than just talking over long distances, would help drive home the seriousness of the matter. As a rule, face-to-face gatherings were reserved for pleasure, and problems were dealt with through the communications systems. A problem that got Geste aboard the Skyland would seem more real.

The Skyler was a skittish, suggestible person. A threat of the sort Thaddeus posed would rouse her to action far more readily than it would most of the others.

Furthermore, because of her elevated location and his own preference for setting his plans upon solid ground, she had been the subject of very few of Geste's pranks, and should therefore be more willing than most to trust him.

And finally, she was a good friend to Imp, and Imp was genuinely worried about her lover, Aulden the Technician-and with good reason. If Geste could not convince the Skyler by himself, he would ask Imp to intervene on his behalf.

That reminded him that he had not heard anything back from Imp. Well, he would call her back after he had spoken to the others.

“Get me the Skyler,” he said.

“You got it, boss."

An instant later the Skyler's familiar face appeared before him. She wore a worried expression, which was nothing unusual.

“Oh, Geste, it's you!” she said, her face brightening. “Thank heavens! Imp told me what's happening; what can I do to help?"

Geste smiled, then suppressed it. Imp had done the convincing for him.

“If you don't mind, I'd like to come aboard, and we can talk about it there. Should I come find you, or will you come find me, or shall we meet somewhere?"

“I'm headed for the Falls to pick up Imp; could you join us there?"

“Of course. I'd be glad to. See you there.” Geste signalled, and the Skyler's image vanished.

Things were looking up; he had Imp and the Skyler on his side now, at the very least. Thaddeus would not be able to take them all by surprise.

But Geste still had no idea at all how they could stop the would-be conqueror.

"…fell to the sand and waited to die.

"The next thing he knew strong hands were grasping him and lifting him up, and he found himself being laid across a wagon, a wagon that moved without any wheels or beasts to draw it. And when he could gather the strength, he looked around and saw that on either side of the wagon were three men, and they were all clad in flowing robes of white and gold, and they all marched on silently, not saying a word, and in perfect step.

"He marvelled at this, and wondered who could have found him, so far out in the desert, but then his weariness caught up to him and he fainted.

"When he awoke again he was in a tent, bright with the desert sun's light through the cloth; rugs covered the sands to make a floor, musicians played on pipes somewhere outside, and he lay upon a pile of embroidered cushions atop the rugs.

"Before him sat a richly-robed man, holding out a cup.

"He took the cup and sipped from it, and found that it held an invigorating liquor he had never tasted before. He drank deeply, and when the cup was empty he felt well enough to stand and bow politely to his host.

"The man waved for him to sit down. ‘I am Khalid,’ he said, ‘and you are my honored guest. Welcome to the Tents of Gold!’ He waved a hand, and for an instant the wanderer saw not a simple tent, but a vast banquet hall, where fountains poured forth bubbling streams, and beautiful women danced to the pipers’ music, and the tables groaned beneath the weight of a great feast.

"Then the tent was back, and Khalid said, ‘What is mine, is yours. You have but to ask…"

– from the tales of Atheron the Storyteller

Bredon awoke slowly, uncertain where he was and puzzled by the darkness.

He remembered going to sleep well after sunset, and he felt well-rested, so how could it still be dark? Had he slept clear through firstlight and into the midwake dark? He felt the soft fur coverlet under which he lay, and knew it was not one of his own furs; the texture was not quite anything he recognized. He did not smell the familiar scents of smoke and leather that filled his own tent; in fact, he did not smell anything. Nor did he hear anything; the sound of the wind in the grass was eerily absent.

He sat up.

Light sprang up, a soft golden glow, and he remembered.

He was in Arcade, the secret home of Geste the Trickster.

The golden light was localized; all he could see was his bed-which was now yellow, though he remembered it as blue-and a small open expanse of smooth, shining floor that looked yellow, but might have been white in a more ordinary light.

He hesitated, unsure what he should do. Wandering about unguided in a Power's hold could surely be dangerous.

“Is anyone there?” he called softly into the unsettling silence.

“Sure, kid, I'm here,” came the calm reply. “What can I do for you?"

Bredon recognized the voice as the invisible housekeeper, the one Geste had called “Gamesmaster."

“I don't know,” he said, speaking normally. “What am I supposed to do?"

“Whatever you like,” the intelligence replied. “The boss told me to take care of you, and he didn't set any rules. You can pretty much do as you please while you're here, at least as far as I'm concerned. I'm just supposed to see that you have what you need and don't get hurt."

That was reassuring, and Bredon relaxed a little. “Where is Geste?” he asked.

“He's gone out to the Skyland for a council of war. He wants to stop Thaddeus from screwing up anything, and to get Lady Sunlight back here for you while he's at it."

“Is there anything I can do to help?"

“Sorry, kid, but I doubt it. I figure you had best just wait here until the boss gets back-or gets killed, whichever it is."

Bredon was not sure whether Gamesmaster was joking in speaking of his master's death-after all, could a Power really die? Geste had said so, but Geste was a notorious liar.

Still, whether there was any genuine danger or not, Bredon could not shake the feeling that he was somehow responsible for involving Geste in something unpleasant. “I want to help, though,” he said. “There must be something I can do."

“I don't know what it could be. Look, kid, I know you mean well, but this is between the immortals. You haven't got the technology or the knowledge or the experience to be of any help, so far as I can see."

Bredon knew that was true, but he refused to accept it without argument. He had never enjoyed sitting by and watching while others acted, and he felt somehow responsible for Lady Sunlight. Besides, from a purely selfish point of view, anything he could do to help would also improve his chances of eventually bedding her. “Maybe I can learn,” he said. “Maybe I can see something the Trickster would miss, because I'm only a mortal, something that a Power wouldn't think of."

The intelligence hesitated, then replied, “I'm sorry, kid, but I just can't see it. Even if there is some little fact that you know that we don't that could be of use, how will we ever know it? You don't have the first idea what's really happening here."

“I know I don't, but I want to understand,” Bredon insisted. “I want to learn. Can you teach me?"

“Well, sure, I can,” Gamesmaster replied. “Of course I can teach you. But I don't know how much you can learn in time to do any good. I've got direct neural loading in a lot of fields, imprinting, we call it, but not for any of the basics that you'll need, because Geste and all the rest had all that centuries ago and weren't planning on having any kids on this planet. I'd need to teach you a lot of stuff with ordinary sight and sound."