The god did not, nor did Hanse. Sparks were struck by a blow parried, and feetshifted and Vashanka was past and Hanse turning, unharmed.

The god came in with the arrogant precipi-tousness of a god set to slay a snottylittle mortal. In rushed his dark sword, to be caught and turned by a roundshield so that he was jarred by the impact and the snotty human's return strokenearly bit his leg. Still Vashanka did not leam, could not respect this wirylittle foeman in its untested mail, and again he struck, his shield still downfrom protecting his leg, and this time Hanse jerked his shield on impact so thatthe god's blade was directed aside, drawing Vas-hanka's arm and thus his bodythat way, and only the projections of his unorthodox, twisted body-armor savedhis neck from Hanse's edge. The god grunted as he was struck but un-wounded, andHanse showed him teeth, sidestepping, back-stepping, feinting with sword andthen with buckler and showing a preparedness that turned another godly attackinto a feint.

Vashanka had been taught respect.

They circled, each with his shield-side to the other, each staring above thearcing rim of the shield. Pacing, watching. Each a moving target and movingmenace. Arms slightly amove so that neither blade was still in that dead air.

Somewhere the moon moved in the sky and hourglasses were turned, while those twocircled and stared, paced and glared, paced and feinted as fighting men withrespect each for the other. Now and again steel hissed and sang and steel rangor wood boomed under the impact of swordblade on reinforced shield. Now andagain a man grunted, or a god. One swift awful flurry of strokes traded lefteach bruised under armor still intact.

How could Hanse knew that they fought so for an hour? Staying alive meantstaying alert; being alert meant having no time to think of time or of tiring.It was guard and parry, strike and cover, and pace to seek another opportunity.Silver twinkled as the sword-bitten winding on Hanse's sheath came loose anddangled.

How long was it, ere Vashanka was there no more but become a rock-leopard thatsnarled and sprang with awful talons extended-

-to be met by Hanse become bear; a big bear that caught the huge cat andsqueezed it in mid-leap, staggering back, feeling its claws as he shook it andhurled it from him to hit the ground, hard, and roll, snarling with a whiningnote, twisting, becoming a cobra.

Both were blooded now, and blood marked the hissing serpent that reared,striking-

It struck neither man nor bear, for neither was there, but a small ferociouscollection of teeth and fur and boneless speed that avoided the strike andpounced to clamp its teeth on a hated enemy-

But as soon as the mongoose had the cobra, the serpent swelled huge and thenhuger so that its tiny antagonist fell away. That still-growing cobra wasblooded again, however, and when it became horse with Vashanka atop or part ofit, it turned to canter away. And away, prancing easily over ugly shapes ofstone . . . only to wheel and come back at the gallop. Charging, hoovespounding, striking sparks off stone, bounding over twisted rock-formations atthe small shape who seemed gone all fearful, scurrying back and forth in itspath, then whirling and racing away, fleeing on a straight line easily overtaken...

The legs of that racing horse rushed into the long strip of leather Hanse hadjust bound in place for it, and it stumbled with a scream and flew through theair so that. Hanse, swerving, heard its mighty impact behuyd him. Then hewhirled and rushed back, shiald ready and sword up and back, gathering velocityfor the stroke to carry all.

He was forced to slow. A man-shape stood there waiting, a god in armor and helmbeaked in imitation of a bird of prey, shield up and ready, sword a dark silverof death ready in his fist. Shield took blow and shield took blow, but itsbottom edge was banged in to impact Hanse's body at the waist so that he groanedand half-doubled and staggered back, trying not to fall, but falling, sprawlingbackward, a grounded target ready for the death-stroke of a god he never shouldhave fought. His elbow banged into a snake-shape of ochreous rock and the swordleaped from it as if eager to flee.

Hanse had the ridiculous thought I knew I should never have done this as hetried to writhe and wriggle and watched death rushing at him with upraisedsword. Mignureal saved him, leaping in from the side with a screech. Hanse,flailing and groaning, trying to will himself onto his feet and yet despairingutterly, saw the vicious black-bladed stroke that cut her nearly in two almostprecisely at the waist.

Now it was a god's turn to show his teeth in feral smile worthy of the lowestbeast, and after spinning completely around from the exertion of destroying thatpoor pale-clad body, he came bounding again, sword rising for the second deathblow in seconds, and the absolutely desperate Hanse reverted: he thrust his lefthand up his tunic sleeve, half-rolling as he did to free his arm all the way,and hurled the long flat knife.

He watched its rush as he had never tracked a cast before, none of his thousandsand thousands of practice casts. The leaf of shining metal seemed to takeminutes, floating through eternity to reach the rushing oncoming god who, thoughracing toward Hanse, took as long to near. Lightning sundered the sky andthunder followed, but it was the voice of enraged, triumphant Vashanka, at thecharge.

"I CANNOT BE SLAIN BY WEAPONS OF YOUR PLANE, IDIOT, LITTLE THIEF, POOR DEMIMORTAL, INCONSEQUENTIAL INSEC-"

And then his charge met the knife's. The knife struck, beautifully and perfectlypoint-first, just under the adam's apple. Vashanka shrieked and the shriekburbled. That impossible plane of infinity came alive with blinding andcoruscating light.

... down in Sanctuary those up at dawn saw the late-rising moon vanish as thesky was hurled alight by heat lightning bright as day...

that surrounded Vashanka utterly, that was Vashanka, as his bellow of rage andpain was thunder and lightning. Pierced, he went flying backward as if bysmashing impact, and the wind of his passage was as the gale of a storm boomingin off the sea. And on he went, until he was so distant to the staring,squinting Hanse that he was tiny, and then that tiny Vashanka vanished.

Us appeared before Hanse then, radiant. His face was that of the statue in thedestroyed temple.

At that, Hanse wondered; he saw the radiance and yet dimly. Why was it darker;why was his god not all triumphant in pure lambence?

Why can't I move my damned head, damn it? "m the end," Ils said, "he was rightand yet not wise enough. He said true in that he cannot be slain by weapons ofthis plane. But the knife flew true, the mortal knife off its proper plane hereon the Plane of Infinity, and it struck him a killing blow, so that he began todie. But that was not possible. Thus a paradox existed. That is against thenature of things, Hanse, for the God of Gods who created all existence-aye, andwho created Me-that god is Reality. Since my cousin's son Vashanka could not beslain by weapons of your plane, this dimension, he could not die in this chamberof the House of Infinity that is the domain of Lord Reality."

Of course Hanse said, "I don't understand."

"Hmp! I am sure you don't! It's heady stuff for a god! Explanations for allthis won't be discovered by your kind for thousands of years, Son of Shadow.Suffice it to say that Vashanka is gone from here, and that meaning of 'here'is a broad one, indeed and in deed! Vashanka is gone from here because hecannot exist here, in this universe. He has been blown backward through awormhole in space, which is no easier for you to understand, eh? Accept thistruth, Hanse: Vashanka is ElseWhere. And though there is an infinity ofpossibilities, of dimensions or chambers, one is closed to him forever; usedup. That one-yours-is impossible to him and does not exist for him.