Perhaps oddest of all was that, though he was still among the same people as he had been among before, he felt alone for the first time since he had seen the sword glowing red-hot in the ruined temple.

He knew with crystalline clarity and utter certainty that he was himself again-and only himself-where he had been something else minutes earlier. He felt clean, and it was a very good feeling indeed.

He wondered how long it could last. The sword was supposed to be a link to the god Bheleu; whatever the Forgotten King might be, could he defy a god? Was it truly the god of destruction who had influenced Garth? If so, how long would it be before he reasserted his authority? Garth looked apprehensively at the sword's pommel.

The stone remained dead black. At last, somewhat reassured, Garth said, "I want to know how you are able to do such things. I apologize for the anger; as you obviously are aware, the sword has-had-a hold on me, and caused me to behave irrationally at times. However, it is not the sword, but my own will that forces me to insist upon an explanation before I give you these things I stole. What are you? What is it you hope to achieve?"

"You are troubled," the old man said, "because you have been told that I am the high priest of The God Whose Name Is Not Spoken and you do not want to aid one who serves Death."

"You do not deny it, then?"

The Forgotten King did not answer.

"You understand, then, why I am reluctant. I know that at least one of these objects has magical power-I would have said very great power, had I not seen you deal with it just now. I suspect that some of the others are also magical, though subtler. I know that you sent me on this errand in the hope of acquiring items necessary for some great feat you hope to perform, but you have consistently refused to tell me anything of the nature of this feat. Is it any surprise that, when I learned your identity, I feared that this purpose must be dire indeed? The tasks you have set me are hardly comforting; you asked me to bring you the basilisk from Mormoreth, the deadliest creature I have ever encountered in fact or legend, and to rob for you the altars of the dark gods. Everything would seem to indicate that you plan some truly ghastly act of mass death in the service of your god."

The old man sat silently for a moment, apparently considering this; as he did, Frima was distracted momentarily. Saram had crossed the room and now stood beside her.

"Do you mind if I join you?" he asked softly, indicating one of the other chairs at her table.

"No," she replied without thinking; then she added, "Garth might object, though"

"Oh, I don't think he will," Saram whispered. "Those two are too involved with each other to pay any attention to us." He seated himself across from the girl, and together they watched and listened as the Forgotten King answered.

"I care nothing for any god's service. I seek only to die."

After a brief pause, Garth answered, "I had suspected as much. I could see no use for a basilisk except to kill. When you swore you meant to harm no other, I guessed that you wanted it to slay yourself. Later, though, I doubted my conclusions, for you said that what you sought would have some great significance to the rest of the world, and the death of one old man did not seem to fit. I thought that you might perhaps be lying, that in fact you did want only to die, and that all your other claims were merely to entice me to aid you-but the Wise Women of Ordunin told me that if I served you, my name could live until the end of time, which did not fit such a hypothesis.

"Now, you say that you seek simply your own death; how can this have such mighty repercussions? How can my aiding you ensure my eternal fame? I do not understand. Further, you say that you care nothing for the gods, yet there was no mistaking the Dыsarran priest's description; you are the one he described as the high priest of the Final God."

"I was," the Forgotten King answered.

"Were? Have you forsaken the service of the deathgod?"

The old man did not answer.

Garth sat silently for a moment, then said slowly, "I think I begin to see. The Dыsarran said that it was in the nature of your service to the god of death that you, yourself, cannot die. You wish to die, though; you have lived more than four ages, he said, and now you grow weary. Yet you cannot die so long as you serve The God Whose Name Is Not Spoken. You have therefore forsaken your service-or sought to. You did not die when you met the gaze of the basilisk; your immortality is still strong. Death has not accepted you, the god has not accepted your renunciation of him."

The old man nodded very slightly.

"Then is it that you mean to force the gods to acknowledge your resignation, so that you may die? Do you intend to invoke the gods themselves?"

The Forgotten King did not answer.

"That must be it; you will bring The God Whose Name Is Not Spoken into our own world, so that you may end your pact with him. Such a conjuring would indeed be a feat worthy of eternal fame, a thing unequalled in history."

The yellow-robed figure shifted slightly. "Not `unequalled in history,' Garth. I did it once, when I first made my pact."

"I can see, too, how you could offer me immortality; I could be presented to the god as your replacement. Such an eternal life does not appeal to me."

The King shrugged.

"This conjuring-how is it to be done?"

"I have not said that I plan any such thing," the old man answered.

"You keep up your air of mystery, but what else can you intend? You do not deny it, do you?"

Again, the sagging shoulders rose and dropped.

Garth sat back and considered. His chair creaked beneath his weight. The Forgotten King would not confirm it, but his theory made sense; it hung together neatly and fit all the known facts, as well as the old man's previous statements. Why, then, did the King not admit it? There must be possible consequences that he thought would displease Garth and discourage any further aid. Such consequences must be fairly easy to discover, too; if they were in the least esoteric, it would be simple enough to keep Garth from learning of them.

He thought the matter over. Bringing The God Whose Name Is Not Spoken into the mortal realm-what would that entail? The god sometimes demanded human sacrifices; could that be it? It could, indeed. Further, the invocation itself surely would involve the speaking aloud of the unspeakable name, whatever it was-that was supposed to mean certain death. Obviously, it would not kill the Forgotten King, but what of those around him? What of Garth himself? What would the presence of personified Death do to the surrounding area?

He had no way of knowing what would be involved. Probably no one knew except the Forgotten King.

"What will happen to those around you, if you are successful in whatever magic you intend to perform in order that you may die?"

The old man shrugged once again.

"Do you mean that you do not know, or is it merely a matter of indifference to you?"

"I do not know exactly."

Garth paused, phrasing his next question carefully.

"Have you reason to believe that the magic which will permit you to die will also bring about other deaths?"

After a moment of silence, the King replied, "Yes."

"How many other deaths?"

"I don't know."

"One? A few? Many?"

"Many."

That was it, then; that was why the old man had been so reluctant to say what he was after. Furthermore, it was the reason Garth would not serve him any longer and would not turn over the booty he had brought from Dыsarra.

At least, that was what Garth told himself. Then he reconsidered and asked, "Is it possible that there might be some other way in which you could die, some way that would harm no one else?"