"Give me your sword," she demanded.

He handed her the Enlibar blade. Illyra stared at it a while then ran her palmsalong the flat and touched the edge tenderly with her fingertips. She set themetal on her table and sat motionless for so long that Walegrin began to fearfor her. He had started for the door when her eyes widened and she called hisname.

"The future has been clouded since I gave birth, Walegrin, but your future is asthe fog to the sun.

"Steel belongs to no man but to itself alone- this steel even more so. It reeksof gods and magic, places the S'danzo do not see. But unless your betrayers workthrough the gods they will have no power over you. There is intrigue, treacherybut none of it will harm you or the steel."

"What of the men of Ranke? Have they forgotten me? When I go north-"

"You will not go north," she said, taking hold of the sword again.

"'Lyra, I'm going north with my men and the swords."

"You will not go north."

"That's nonsense."

Illyra put the sword on the table again. "It is the clearest thing I've seen ina week, Walegrin. You will not go north; you will not leave Sanctuary."

"Then you cannot say no harm will come to me. What of the spy we trapped thismorning. The stranger who got away. Do you see him?"

"No-he can mean nothing to you, but I'll try my cards." She picked up the deck,took his hand and pressed it against the cards."Perhaps your future is distinctfrom the steel. Make three piles then turn over the top card of each."

He placed the three piles where she pointed and flipped over the cards. Thefirst showed two men dueling. Though blood dripped from their blades neitherseemed injured. It was a card Walegrin had seen before. The second wasunfamiliar and damaged by water running through the colors. It seemed to show agreat mass of ships on the open sea. The third card showed an armored hand

clutching a sword-hill that changed to flame halfway up the blade. Withoutthinking Walegrin moved to touch the flame. Illyra's fingers closed over his andrestrained him.

"Your first: the Two of Ores: steel. It means many things, but for you it issimply this steel itself. But you already know this.

'"Your second: this is the Seven of Ships, or it was the Seven of Ships. It wasthe fishing fleet, but ithas become something else." She squeezed his hand."Here is all danger and opportunity. Not even the gods see this card as we seeit now. The Seven of Ships sails out of the future; it sails for Sanctuary andnothing will be the same. Remember it!" she commanded and overturned the cardagain. "We were not meant to see what the gods have not yet seen.

"Your third is not a sword, though you thought it was. It is the Lance ofFlames-the Oriflamme: leader's card. Coming with steel and the revealed futureit places you in the vanguard. It is not a card for a man who believes inS'danzo curses."

"Don't speak in riddles, Illyra."

"It is simple. You are not cursed by the S'danzo-if you ever were. You have beenmarked by the gods; but remember what we say about the gods: it is all the samewhether they curse or favor you. Since the birth of my children this is thefirst future which is not clouded. I see a huge fleet sailing for Sanctuary-andI see the Oriflamme. I will not interpret what I see."

"The men in Ranke will not reach me and Balustrus will not sell me?"

The S'danzo woman laughed as she gathered her cards. "Raise your eyes, Walegrin.It doesn't matter. Ranke is to the north and you're not going north. The steel,the fleet and the ori-flamme are right here."

"I do not understand."

The incense had burned down. Sunlight came in through the roped-off door. Illyraemerged from the aura of mystery to be herself again. "You are the only one whocan understand, Walegrin," she told him. "I'm too tired, now. It doesn't reallymatter; I don't feel your doom- and I've felt doom often enough since themercenaries started coming. Who knows. Maybe you aren't the one who understands.Things happen to you, around you, and you just muddle through. Tell Dubro I'llsee no-one else today when you leave."

She stood up and went behind a curtain. He heard her lie down; he left quietly.Thrusherwas helping Dubro with a wheelrim, but both men stopped when they sawhim.

"She wishes to be left alone the rest of the day," he said.

"Then you best begone from here."

Walegrin headed out from the awning without argument. Thrusher joined him.

"Well, what did you leam?"

"She told me that we will not go north and that a great fleet is headed forSanctuary."

Thrusher stopped short. "She's mad," he exclaimed.

"I don't think so, but I don't understand either. In the meantime we'll followour original plans. We'll come back to the city tonight and speak to the menyou've found. There should be twenty-five swords finished by now-if therearen't, we'll cut our losses and leave with what we've got. I want to be out ofhere by sunrise."

6

The light in the tiny, upper room was provided by two foul-smelling candles. Aman stood uncomfortably in the center of the room, the only place where he couldstand without striking his head on the rough-hewn beams. Walegrin, deep withinthe comer shadows, fired questions at him.

"You say you can use a sword-do you fight in skirmish or battle?"

"Both. Before I came to Sanctuary, two years back, I lived a time at Valtostin.We fought the citizens by night and the Tostin tribes by day. I've killed twentymen in a single day, and I've got the scars to prove it."

Walegrin didn't doubt him. The man had the look of a seasoned fighter, not abrawler. Thrusher had seen him single-handedly subdue a pair of rowdies withoutundue injury or commotion. "But you left Valtostin?"

The man shifted his weight nervously. "Women-a woman.""And you came to Sanctuary to forget?" Walegrin suggested.

"There's always work for such as me; especially in a city like this."

"So you found work here, but not with the garrison. What did you do?"

"I guarded the property of a merchant..."

Walegrin did not need to hear the rest of the explanation; he'd heard it oftenenough. It was as if the surviving hawkmasks had settled on a single excuse fortheir past involvement with Jubal. In a way there was truth in it; Jubal's tradewasn't fundamentally different from the activities of a legitimate merchantespecially here in Sanctuary.

"You know what I'm offering?" Walegrin asked flatly when the man had fallensilent. "Why come to me when Tempus needs Stepsons?"__

"I'd die before I served hint."

That too was the expected response. Walegrin emerged from the shadows to embracehis new man. "Well, die you might, Cubert. We quarter in a villa to the north oftown. A sign says 'Sighing Trees,' if you read Wriggle. Otherwise you'll know itby the smell. We're with Balustrus, metal-master, for one more night."

Cubert knew the name and did not flinch at the sound of it. Perhaps he did nothave the abhor-ence of magic and near-magic that most mercenaries had. Or he wassimply a good soldier and accepted his lot with resignation. Thrusher emerged toopen the door.

"Was that the last?" Walegrin asked when they were alone again.

"The best, anyway. There's one more, another hawkmask, and-" Thrusher paused, "a woman."

Walegrin's sigh made the candles flicker. "Very well-send her in."

It was not the custom of the army, even here in the hinterlands, to consider awoman fit for anything but cooking and fornicating. Jubal's rejection of thistime-honored attitude was, to Walegrin, far more outrageous than any of hisother activities. Unfortunately, with the Stepsons changing the face of theDownwind side of town, Walegrin was forced to consider these distaff aberationsif he was to leave town with a dozen men-soldiers-swords, whatever, in hiscommand.