The other nodded. 'In the flesh, the all too mutable flesh. I do hope my cursestrikes again soon. Almost any shape would be better than this. I hate beingoverweight. I'm a eunuch, too. The times I've been a woman were better thanthis.'

'I'm sorry, sir,' Cappen took care to say. Though he could not rid himself ofthe spell laid on him, Enas Yorl was a powerful thaumaturge, no mereprestidigitator.

'At least I've not been arbitrarily displaced. You can't imagine how annoying itis, suddenly to find oneself elsewhere, perhaps miles away. I was able to comehere in proper wise, in my litter. Faugh, how can anyone voluntarily set shoesto these open sewers they call streets in the Maze?' The wine arrived. 'Best wespeak fast and to the point, young man, that we may finish and I get home beforethe next contretemps.'

Enas Yorl sipped and made a face. 'I've been swindled,' he whined. 'This isbarely drinkable, if that.'

'Maybe your present palate is at fault, sir,' Cappen suggested. He did not addthat the tongue definitely had a bad case of logorrhea. It was an almostphysical torture to sit stalled, but he had better humour the mage.

'Yes, quite probably. Nothing has tasted good since - Well. To business. Onhearing that One-Thumb was inquiring about last night's incident, I sent forthcertain investigators of my own. You will understand that I've been trying tofind out as much as I can.' Enas Yorl drew a sign in the air. 'Purelyprecautionary. I have no desire whatsoever to cross the Powers concerned inthis.'

A wintry tingle went through Cappen. 'You know who they are, what it's about?'His tone wavered.

Enas Yorl wagged a finger. 'Not so hasty, boy, not so hasty. My latestinformation was of a seemingly unsuccessful interview you had with Illyra theseeress. I also learned you were now in this hostel and close to its landlord.Obviously you are involved. I must know why, how, how much - everything.'

'Then you'll help - sir?'

A headshake made chin and jowls wobble. 'Absolutely not. I told you I want nopart of this. But in exchange for whatever data you possess, I am willing toexplicate as far as I am able, and to advise you. Be warned: my advice willdoubtless be that you drop the matter and perhaps leave town.'

And doubtless he would be right, Cappen thought. It simply happened to becounsel that was impossible for a lover to follow ... unless - 0 kindly gods ofCaronne, no, no! - unless Danlis was dead.

The whole story spilled out of him, quickened and deepened by keen questions. Atthe end, he sat breathless while Enas Yorl nodded.

'Yes, that appears to confirm what I suspected,' the mage said most softly. Hestared past the minstrel, into shadows that loomed and flickered. Buzz of talk,clink of drinking ware, occasional gust of laughter among customers seemedremoter than the moon.

'What was it?' broke from Cappen.

'A sikkintair, a Flying Knife. It can have been nothing else.'

'A-what?' -

Enas focused on his companion. 'The monster that took the women,' he explained.'Sikkintairs are an attribute of Ils. A pair of sculptures on the grand stairwayof his temple represent them.'

'Oh, yes, I've seen those, but never thought -'

'No, you're not a votary of any gods they have here. Myself, when I got word ofthe abduction, I sent my familiars scuttling about and cast spells of inquiry. Ireceived indications ... I can't describe them to you, who lack arcane lore. Iestablished that the very fabric of space had been troubled. Vibrations had notquite damped out as yet, and were centred on the temple of Ils. You may, if youwish a crude analogy, visualize a water surface and the waves, fading to ripplesand finally to naught, when a diver has passed through.'

Enas Yorl drank more in a gulp than was his wont. 'Civilization was old in Ilsigwhen Ranke was still a barbarian village,' he said, as though to himself; hisgaze had drifted away again, towards darkness. 'Its myths depicted the home ofthe gods as being outside the world - not above, not below, but outside.Philosophers of a later, more rationalistic era elaborated this into a theory ofparallel universes. My own researches - you will understand that my conditionhas made me especially interested in the theory of dimensions, the subtleraspects of geometry - my own researches have demonstrated the .possibility oftransference between these different spaces.

'As another analogy, consider a pack of cards. One is inhabited by a king, oneby a knight, one by a deuce, et cetera. Ordinarily none of the figures can leavethe plane on which it exists. If, however, a very thin piece of absorbentmaterial soaked in a unique kind of solvent were laid between two cards, thedyes that form them could pass through: retaining their configuration, I trust.Actually, of course, this is a less than ideal comparison, for the transferenceis accomplished through a particular contortion of the continuum -'

Cappen could endure no more pedantry. He crashed his tankard down on the tableand shouted, 'By all the hells of all the cults, will you get to the point?'

Men stared from adjacent seats, decided no fight was about to erupt, and wentback to their interests. These included negotiations with street-walkers who,lanterns in hand, had come in looking for trade.

Enas Yorl smiled. 'I forgive your outburst, under the circumstances,' he said.'I too am occasionally young.

'Very well. Given the foregoing data, including yours, the infrastructure ofevents seems reasonably evident. You are aware of the conflict over a proposednew temple, which is to outdo that of Ils and Shipri. I do not maintain that thegod has taken a direct hand. I certainly hope he feels that would be beneath hisdignity; a theomachy would not be good for us, to understate the case atrifle. But he may have inspired a few of his more fanatical priests toaction. He may have revealed to them, in dreams or vision, the means wherebythey could cross to the next world and there make the sikkintairs do theirbidding. I hypothesize that the Lady Rosanda - and, to be sure, hercoadjutrix, your inamorata - are incarcerated in that world. The templeis too full of priests, deacons, acolytes, and lay people for hiding thewife of a magnate. However, the gate need not be recognizable as such.'

Cappen controlled himself with an inward shudder and made his trained voicecasual: 'What might it look like, sir?'

'Oh, probably a scroll, taken from a coffer where it had long lain forgotten,and now unrolled - yes, I should think in the sanctum, to draw power from thesacred objects and to be seen by as few persons as possible who are not in theconspiracy -' Enas Yorl came out of his abstraction. 'Beware! I deduce yourthought. Choke it before it kills you.'

Cappen ran sandy tongue over leathery lips. 'What ... should we ... expect tohappen, sir?'

'That is an interesting question,' Enas Yorl said. 'I can but conjecture. Yet Iam well acquainted with the temple hierarchy and - I don't think the Archpriestis privy to the matter. He's too aged and weak. On the other hand, this is quitein the style of Hazroah, the High Flamen. Moreover, of late he has in effecttaken over the governance of the temple from his nominal superior. He's bold,ruthless - should have been a soldier - Well, putting myself in his skin, I'llpredict that he'll let Molin stew a while, then cautiously open negotiations - ahint at first, and always a claim that this is the will of Ils.

'None but the Emperor can cancel an undertaking for the Imperial deities.Persuading him will take much time and pressure. Molin is a Rankan aristocrat ofthe old school; he will be torn between his duty to his gods, his state, and hiswife. But I suspect that eventually he can be worn down to the point where heagrees that it is, in truth, bad policy to exalt Savankala and Sabellia in acity whose tutelaries they have never been. He in his turn can influence theEmperor as desired.'