'Never,' murmured Nizharu, but sweat beaded his lip.

Next came the tricky bit. Everything depended on whether the commander wanted tokeep the mere existence of the scroll a secret. Now he knew Aye-Gophlan had it,it was open to him to summon his men and march down to the guardhouse and searchit floor to rooftree, for - according to what Jarveena said, at any rate - AyeGophlan was far too cautious to leave it overnight in the custody of a merescribe. He would return on his next duty-free day, the day after tomorrow or theday after that, depending on which of his fellow officers he could exchangewith.

But Melilot had deduced that if the scroll were so important that Nizharu keptit by him even when undertaking a mundane tour of inspection, it must be veryprivate indeed. He was, apparently, correct. Nizharu listened with closeattention, and many nods to the alternative plan of action.

For a consideration, Melilot was prepared to furnish a false translationdesigned to jar Aye-Gophlan into doing something for which Nizharu could safelyarrest him, without it ever being known that he had enjoyed temporary possessionof a scroll which by ' rights should have remained in the commander's hands. Lethim only specify the terms, and it would be as good as done.

When she - whom Nizharu still believed a he, for which she was profoundly glad finished talking, the commander pondered a while. At length he started to smile,though it never reached his eyes, and in firm clear terms expressed hisconditions for entering into a compact along the lines Melilot proposed. Hecapped all by handing over two gold coins, of a type she did not recognize, witha promise that he would have her (his) hide if they did not both reach Melilot,and a large silver token of the kind used at Ilsig for himself.

Then he instructed a soldier she had not met to escort her to the gate andacross Governor's Walk. But she gave the man the slip as soon as they were clearof the palace grounds and rushed towards the back entry, via Silk Corner.

Melilot being rich, he could afford locks on his doors; he had given her a heavybronze key which she had concealed in her writing case. She fumbled it into thelock, but before she could turn it the door swung wide and she stepped forwardas though impelled by another person's will.

This was the street - or rather alley. This was the door with its overhangingporch. Outside everything was right.

But inside everything was absolutely, utterly, unqualifiedly wrong.

4

Jarveena wanted to cry out, but found herself unable to draw enough breath. Avast sluggishness took possession other muscles, as though she were descendinginto glue. Taking one more step, she knew, would tire her to the point ofexhaustion; accordingly she concentrated merely on looking about her, and withinseconds was wishing that she hadn't.

A wan, greyish light suffused the place. It showed her high stone walls oneither side, a stone-flagged floor underfoot, but nothing above except driftingmist that sometimes took on an eerie pale colour: pinkish, bluish, or the sicklyphosphorescent shade of dying fish. Before her was nothing but a long table,immensely and ridiculously long, such that one might seat a full company ofsoldiers at it.

A shiver tried to crawl down her spine, but failed thanks to the weird paralysisthat gripped her. For what she was seeing matched in every respect thedescriptions, uttered in a whisper, which she had heard of the home of EnasYorl. In all the land there were but three Great Wizards, powerful enough not tocare that their true names were noised abroad: one was at Ranke and served theneeds of the court; one was at Ilsig and accounted the most skilful; the third,by reason of some scandal, made do with the slim pickings at Sanctuary, and thatwas Enas Yorl.

But how could he be here? His palace was on - or, more exactly, below - PrytanisStreet, where the city petered out to the south-east of Temple Avenue.

Except...

The thought burgeoned from memory and she fought against it, and failed. Someonehad once explained to her: Except when it is somewhere else.

Abruptly it was as though the table shrank, and from an immense distance itsfarther end drew close and along with it a high-backed, throne-like chair inwhich sat a curious personage. He was arrayed in an enormously full, manylayered cloak of some dull brown stuff, and wore a high-crowned hat whose broadbrim somehow Contrived to shadow his face against even the directionless greylight that obtained here.

But within that shadow two red gleams like embers showed, approximately where ahuman's eyes would be.

This individual held in his right hand a scroll, partly unrolled. and with hisleft he was tapping on the table. The proportions of his fingers were abnormal,and one or two of them seemed either to lack, or to be overprovided with,joints. One of his nails sparked luridly, but that ceased after a little.Raising his head, after a fashion, he spoke.

'A girl. Interesting. But one who has ... suffered. Was it punishment?'

It felt to Jarveena as though the gaze of those two dull red orbs couldpenetrate her flesh as well as her clothing. She could say nothing, but hadnothing to say.

'No,' pronounced the wizard - for surely it must be none other. He let thescroll drop on the table, and it formed itself into a tidy roll at once, whilehe rose and approached her. A gesture, as though to sketch her outline in theair, freed her from the lassitude that had hampered her limbs. But she had toomuch sense to break and run.

Whither?

'Do you know me?'

'I...' She licked dry lips. 'I think you may be Enas Yorl.'

'Fame at last,' the wizard said wryly. 'Do you know why you're here?'

'You ... Well, I guess you set a trap for me. I don't know why, unless it has todo with that scroll.'

'Hmm! A perceptive child!' Had he possessed eyebrows, one might have imaginedthe wizard raising them. And then at once: 'Forgive me. I should not have said"child". You are old in the ways of the world, if not in years. But after thefirst century, such patronizing remarks come easy to the tongue ...' He resumedhis chair, inviting Jarveena with a gesture to come closer. She was reluctant.

For when he rose to inspect her, he had been squat. Under the cloak he wasobviously thick-set, stocky, with a paunch. But by the time he regained hisseat, it was equally definite that he was thin, light-boned, and had oneshoulder higher than the other.

'You have noticed,' he said. His voice too had altered; it had been baritone,while now it was at the most flattering a countertenor. 'Victims ofcircumstance, you and I both. It was not I who set a trap for you. The scrolldid.'

'For me? But why?'

'I speak with imprecision. The trap was set not for you qua you. It was set forsomeone to whom it meant the death of another. I judge that you qualify, whetheror not you know it. Do you? Make a guess. Trust your imagination. Have you, forexample, recognized anybody who came to the city recently?'

Jarveena felt the blood drain from her cheeks. She folded her hands into fists.

'Sir, you are a great magician. I recognized someone tonight. Someone I neverdreamed of meeting again. Someone whose death I would gladly accomplish, exceptthat death is much too good for him.'

'Explain!' Enas Yorl leaned an elbow on the table, and rested his chin on hisfist ... except that neither the elbow, nor the chin, let alone the fist,properly corresponded to such appellations.