The wolf paced and turned in the great cavern, below the Face, before the frozen forms of the other beasts and the men. He slipped out only briefly to find something to eat, unable to go too great a distance from the lair, and a part of his mind always kept watch upon the entrance. He made his kill quickly and took it back with him into the grotto. He lay before the shadowy forms of the other hosts, crunching bones. Beyond this, there was only silence.

When he rose again, his movements were less rapid and they continued to slow, as did his heartbeat and his breathing.

Finally, he was barely stirring, and at last he came to a halt. His eyes grew glazed. He became totally immobile.

Slowly then, a serpent uncoiled itself upon a ledge near the place of the Face. It twisted its way down the rough, rocky wall, tongue darting, eyes bright. It slithered across the floor. It fell upon the remains of the wolf's meal and consumed them.

It mounted the wall again, exploring ledge after ledge, entering each cranny and crack, eating any insects it came upon. Tongue darting, it tested every stirring of the air.

Hours passed, its movements slowed. At length, it stopped within a night-dark crevice.

The big cat awakened and stretched. She went to regard the still and expressionless Face high upon the wall. She patrolled the cavern. She left briefly to feed, as the wolf had done, returned and grew stiff as she licked her rectum, one leg high overhead.

A man awakened. He cursed, drew his blade and inspected it, sheathed it. He began to pace. After a time, he spoke to the Face. It never replied, but he was not misled. He could feel the intelligence, the power within it. The sightless eyes seemed to follow him wherever he went.

At last his words trailed off and he became a part of the scenery.

The Harpy awakened and uttered a cry and a curse. She flapped in quick patrol about the cavern, defecating profusely, imaginatively.

Then she considered the Face and grew silent. She went to feed at the remains of the cat's meal.

All were as one before the Face.

Pol turned toward the doorway. An unnaturally-cast shadow covered the large figure of the man who stood there. As soon as Pol's gaze fell upon him, that one moved forward and entered the chamber. The shadow went away.

Pol stared. The man wore a yellow cloak, darker garments beneath it. He was blue-eyed, with sandy hair white at the temples. His features were rugged, his expression almost open, almost honest. He smiled. He had a shiny, capped tooth.

"There is a lesson there for you, lad," he said, and Pol recognized the voice. "He had you, but he allowed himself to be distracted. I lifted an old spell, to give you an opening, to see what you would do." He shook his head. "You shouldn't have allowed yourself to be distracted, also. You should have struck instantly, not stood gawking. A better man could have killed you in that interval--would have."

"But the distraction itself might have represented a threat," Pol replied.

"If a building is falling on you, you don't concern yourself with the horn of an approaching car. You deal with the most immediate peril first. That's survival. You were good, but you hesitated. That can be fetal."

"Car? Who the hell are you, anyway?"

"You know my name."

"Henry Spier?"

The man smiled again.

"So much for introductions."

From somewhere, he produced a black cigarette holder, screwed a cigarette into it and raised it to his lips. Smoke drifted upward from it before it reached his mouth. He puffed upon it and looked about the chamber.

"Things seem to have worked themselves out just about as I'd calculated them," he observed.

He reached beneath his cloak and produced the statuette Pol had hidden in the tunnel.

"You found it. ..."

"Of course."

Henry Spier walked past him and placed the figure at the second point from the right in the diagram upon the floor.

"Six to go," he commented as he straightened and turned.

"That is the first cigarette I've seen in this world," Pol said.

"A man of perception may choose his pleasures from many places," Spier replied. "I'll be happy to teach you all about them later. But now we have some important business to conclude."

"My dreams," Pol said. "You released me from what I might call the first series, that night on the trail ..."

Spier nodded.

"...But then there were more--set in the same world, but very different."

Again Spier nodded, and the smoke curled above his head.

"Since you were being propagandized in the first instance," he stated, "I felt it only fair that you should be granted a somewhat fuller picture when the opposition had its opportunity."

"I must confess that the fuller picture was not entirely comprehensible to me."

"It would be surprising if it were," said Spier, "since it was an alien and vastly older civilization that you viewed. What is far more important, though, is whether or not you found it attractive."

Spier's eyes suddenly met with his own and Pol looked away.

"I found it--fascinating," he said, and when he looked back he saw that Spier was smiling again.

"Excellent," the man replied. "I believe that finds us in basic agreement as to values. What say you produce the other six Keys now and we be about our business?"

Pol looked about the chamber. He gestured.

"You cautioned me against inattention and distraction. What of these?"

"My power would have to be broken for these three to awaken," he said. "It would require a faltering of my will, and I doubt the sufficiency of anything I propose doing now to work that end."

Pol shook his head and turned away. He regarded the still form of Taisa upon the block of dark stone.

"Your gaze follows the direction of your thoughts, I see."

"Does this thing really require a human sacrifice?"

"Yes. So be of good cheer that you now have a choice. We can save the girl for your later pleasure and use Ryle, who would be most happy to kill you if it would serve his ends."

"What of--my brother?"

"He would not go along with our plans. Ryle has warped his thinking. I suggest you permit me to banish him, perhaps to the world where you yourself grew up."

"He is a sorcerer. He may find his way back."

"It will be a simple enough matter to inflict a loss of memory."

"That could be land of rough."

"His treatment of you was somewhat less than exemplary."

"But as you said, Ryle influenced him."

"Who cares what the reason may be? I am only willing to spare him at all because he is your brother."

"Say that I give you what you want. What assurance have I that I will be of any use to you afterwards?"

"There will be massive changes, and I cannot control an entire world by myself. There are not that many Mad-wands about. I would not dispense with any of them unnecessarily. And you, of course, will always hold a special place, because of this assistance."

"I see," Pol said.

"Do you really? Are you aware what will come to pass in this world when the Gate is opened?"

"I think so. Or at least I have my suspicions."

"It will become our plum. With the power at our disposal, we will be gods of the new world."

Pol's eyes moved toward the Gate, where some trick of the light made the figure of the nailed bird seem to jerk forward.

"Supposing I said 'no'?" he asked.

"That could cause us both considerable inconvenience. But what possible reason could you have for not agreeing?"

"I don't like being pressured into things, whether it's by you or Ryle or the statuettes themselves. I've been manipulated ever since I set foot in this world, and I'm tired of it."